#she is back to being a lead in her own show!!

[starmapz]

what you know - ch14: trials || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 23.4k.

❦ a/n ; this serves as a bit of a part 2 to the previous chapter and picks up right where the previous one left off! sorry for the wild word count LOL. i'll see you at the bottom!

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

Sitting in your passenger’s seat, Sukuna finds himself missing his old beat-up car. It clicked if you turned the axle too far and rattled at every stop light. One of the brake lights flickered but never quite went out. It was barely street legal, but it got him from one place to another.

It got his dad to appointments and hospitals. That was what mattered the most.

There was a certain sense of freedom that came along with having a car that Sukuna can’t help but feel he’s lacking now. Still, it’s not so bad being your passenger.

Although the ride is mostly silent apart from your music quietly playing, he finds himself able to sort through his thoughts while staring out the window. It’s not a particularly long ride, but it gives him the chance he needed to come to terms with the dirty game that Kaori is playing with this lawsuit.

Clearly she’ll stop at nothing to tear Sukuna’s life to shreds and take his brothers from him if it’s the last thing she does. Him and his lawyer just need to find an angle that lets them win without pulling dirty tricks like she is. The last thing Sukuna needs are more fees or even charges on his record.

He still can’t figure out Kaori’s angle, either. She isn’t on social media as far as he can tell, her name doesn’t pop up online. She doesn’t want the kids for the money obviously and he can’t wrap his head around the idea of her actually wanting her own kids.

Which is fucked.

His fingers tap on his thigh as he contemplates how this all stems back to one moment.

He wonders how different his life could have been had he not gone looking for Kaori at his grandfather’s funeral. Maybe even Choso and Yuji’s fates could have been different.

The car comes to a halt in a quaint strip mall parking lot, with only another car or two in the lot alongside yours. Sukuna blinks  as he glances around. He vaguely recognizes the area from when you’d first spent time together working on your project at your apartment.

It feels like a lifetime ago now that you listened to The Eagles on vinyl while working on your research project.

Getting out of the car, you stretch your arms up above your head. “I hope it’s good,” you comment, casting him a glance as you lead the way up to a plain door with the restaurant logo across the front. Sukuna hums in agreement.

Within the small shop, there’s a cozy and homely warmth that surrounds you, the smell of broth wafting through the air. The lighting is soft and warm with slats of vertical wood separating each small booth along a wall with ivy green paint beneath the wood. A couple of decorative lanterns adorn stylized chandeliers in each booth, and a counter with stools runs along the farthest wall.

A waitress approaches you both and kindly asks whether you’d prefer a booth or the bar. Sukuna gives you a nudge to let you decide, and the waitress leads the way to a small booth in the very back of the restaurant. The atmosphere is welcoming, though the booth provides enough privacy that you can comfortably converse with one another.

“This place is so cute,” you comment as you both shrug your coats off. You’d almost forgotten how painfully overdressed you are as you look down at your white blouse, which is equally as unfortunate. You’ll just have to be careful not to spill.

Across from you, Sukuna hums as he pulls at the knot of his tie before slipping it off and unceremoniously shoving it in his suit pocket. He can’t say he particularly cares about whether it has wrinkles or not. After all, the next time he wears it will be-

Shit. He’s not sure he’s ready to think about that, yet. After all, they need the house study back before they can prepare. He has time. He can relax and enjoy his time with you.

He needs to live in the moment and try not to think about the dull future that plagues his mind. He needs to let himself relax for the first time in what feels like months.

To keep yourself from watching the painfully attractive way that Sukuna pulls at his tie and undoes the first couple of buttons on his shirt, you busy yourself with the menu. “The tonkatsu sounds good,” you comment.

Rubbing his eye with the back of his knuckle, Sukuna finally picks up the menu, holding it back far enough to see it without squinting as he searches for what you’re talking about. “Sounds good,” he agrees quietly, casting a glance over the menu to stare at you as he struggles to find common ground to chat with you. It’s not like his curt answers are helping, but the small talk you’re spouting to fill the dead air isn’t doing either of you any favors.

Clearing his throat, he sets down the menu. “I’ll just get the gyoza.”

Flipping back a page to take a look at the item on the menu, you eye him suspiciously. “Sukuna, that’s the cheapest thing on the menu and it only comes with three. Get what you want,” you urge, finding it hard to contain your smile as he glowers when you see right through him.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll get the curry ramen.”

“Good,” you hum, pleased.

As both menus are set down, the waitress returns to take your order before you find yourself staring at the soy sauce left at the end of the table. The dead air sitting stagnant between you burns at your skin, lapping like flames against the balance between you. Where once there was easy conversation, a void has been left in its place. Prior to your fight, there was rarely a moment where neither of you knew what to say. Even the silence was usually warm and inviting, but the trepidation left in the wake of uncertainty here doesn’t speak to what once was.

In an effort to fill the silence, Sukuna mutters out a question before he has a chance to think.

“How’s the conspiracy theorist prof been?”

Mild amusement pulls at the corner of your lips. “We had a whole class where we discussed the death of Edgar Allen Poe,” you chuckle as you lean over the table.

Blowing a breath of air out of his nose in a wry laugh, Sukuna leans his chin on his hand, his elbow bent over the table. “What’d she land on?”

“Rabies,” you shrug.

He hums. “More plausible than some of her other theories.”

“I still think it’s more likely to be-”

“Alcoholism.”

“- alcoholism.”

Sukuna’s lips quirk up at the corners as familiarity finally finds its place back within the void, filling it out just a little bit. You giggle as he finishes your sentence in the same moment that you do. “It’s the only cause that has any footing!” You insist happily, beginning to go over the ways that you claim it ‘just makes sense’.

Sukuna’s muscles relax as he listens to you, chiming in occasionally to offer his opinion or add in something his dad had once mentioned on the subject. His tongue glides across his lower lip as he watches the way your lips move as you speak, your eyes crinkling at the corner each time you giggle. He’s only pulled from his stupor when the food arrives.

A large bowl with chopsticks and a spoon is placed in front of each of you, the steam of the warm broth billowing in the air between you. Your mouth waters at the smell alone as you thank the waitress and pick up the chopsticks. Sukuna follows suit, taking a bite of some noodles.

“Everything you hoped for?” He gruffs between bites.

“Um-” you hesitate, “yeah, it’s good!”

“But?”

“It’s a bit salty,” you pout.

“It’s ramen.”

Your brow furrows, playfully offended at his dry tone, as though you don’t know that. “It’s saltier than I usually get, is what I mean,” you retort, raising your brow playfully.

His eyes flicker between your bowls before he pushes his towards you. “Try mine,” he insists.

Your lips purse, giving in without complaint. His food has a bit more of a kick to it and considerably less salt, but the flavor is downright divine. Your brow raises, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you like it more.

Smirking, Sukuna pulls your bowl towards him, exchanging the dishes. “Keep it.”

“What? Are you sure? I really don’t-”

Sukuna takes a bite of your ramen and nods.

Your hands hesitate in the air, still not quite sure what to make of the switch. Sukuna’s never been one to particularly care what he’s eating, but this strikes you as just plain sweet. “Really, it wasn’t that salty-”

“Princess,” Sukuna sets his chopsticks down, finishing his bite of noodles, “eat your damn food.”

You shoot him one last hesitant glance before relenting. Your brow knits together, a shy smile finding its way to your lips. “Thanks,” you murmur as your cheeks heat up. Surely from the heat of the soup.

Surely.

Before you can insist on swapping food again or something else Sukuna would consider foolish, he brings up a new topic, something that’s been nagging at him since he realized how much of a dumbass he’s been, and continues to be. 

“How’s Toji?”

He’d seen and heard from Uraume fairly frequently, though he continued to keep them in the dark about the lawsuit. Every day that goes by, thoughts consume him about whether or not that’s the right option, and every day he struggles to find a reason why he continues to keep it a secret from them.

The truth is that he’s a coward. He can’t bring himself to tell them because it’s been so long that he fears they’ll find a reason to walk out of his life. Though his feelings surrounding Uraume differ greatly from those that involve you, he’s not sure how well he could manage without them either. He’s so deep in the hole he’s dug for himself with this lawsuit that he’s not sure he could blame them if they blew up at him for his spineless decision. Hell, he’d let Uraume dig the hole deeper for him and bury him alive if they so pleased.

Maybe Uraume and Toji could even tap their shovels together in a ‘cheers’ of sorts with the amount of secrets Sukuna’s kept from them both.

“He’s okay,” you shrug. “He asked me about you.”

Sukuna pauses, noodles dangling from his chopsticks as though he didn’t expect that in your reply.

“He was pretty upset,” you continue, hoping to share enough to help them mend their friendship while respecting Toji’s boundaries. Though you’ve grown closer to Sukuna’s childhood friend over the past couple of months, he’s definitely more of Satoru’s friend. You certainly don’t know him well enough to be confident recounting his exact words to Sukuna.

Setting his chopsticks back in the bowl, Sukuna stares down at his scattered reflection on the surface of the soup. “Shit,” he mutters simply, letting the silence linger.

Finishing up your bite, you tilt your head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why didn’t you tell him? You two were best friends, weren’t you?”

Sukuna leans back in his booth, crossing his arms over his chest. The shoulders of his suit jacket crease as the sleeves pull taut and accentuate his muscles. “Dunno. We just didn’t talk about shit like that, and…” he shrugs, finding your gaze with no definitive reasoning to offer.

You frown, Toji’s reaction coming to mind when you’d parroted that exact phrase to him a couple of months ago. ‘That was his excuse?’ Over the course of two months, you’d thought maybe Sukuna’s response might change just as the man himself has. “Don’t you think he would have wanted to know?”

“‘Course he would’ve,” Sukuna agrees, shrugging. “I guess I just didn’t think about it,” he shrugs again, searching for some sort of reasonable answer where there is none. He just didn’t tell Toji. He didn’t want to be around Toji and he didn’t want to talk to Toji. There’s no grand reason why, Toji never did anything to upset Sukuna. The simple fact of the matter is that Sukuna had so much on his plate, that all reason fell to the wayside. It was never Toji’s fault, and had it not been Toji, it would have been someone else. Sukuna didn’t want to be around people at the time.

Sensing that you aren’t getting anywhere with this conversation, you bring up another question that’s been plaguing your mind since Sukuna brought it up at the case conference. You pray it doesn’t piss him off for one reason or another but he’s been more reasonable lately so you don’t feel like you need to step on eggshells around him as much. “Hey, Kuna? Um-” You pause, setting your chopsticks down. “Where did you find Kaori at your grandpa’s funeral?” You query, watching the way his eyes snap to you at the mere mention of the question.

His jaw clenches as he sits up, fiddling with the bottle of soy that sits between you. He stares at it like it’s done a disservice to his family, huffing as he explains in the simplest terms what had happened. “I was a kid, like fourteen or some shit. Kaori was…” he raises his hand, motioning at nothing in particular as he searches for words. “She was fine. She never really cared to be involved with my life, n’ my dad kept things pretty quiet between ‘em until she got pregnant and he proposed.”

He takes a moment, huffing at nothing in particular as he pulls his hand back from the soy sauce, his fingers curling into a fist. “Found her with her fucking-” Sukuna cuts himself off as his voice cracks, his expression hardening as anger courses through his veins at the mere thought of his step-mother. It’s been so long since he’s crossed paths with the thought of what he’d discovered that afternoon. He’d almost forgotten just how vividly his mind can still conjure that image, bringing with it the disgust and self-reproach he’d longed to forget for so many years.

You don’t hesitate for a moment to reach across the table, settling your hand over his fist the moment his distress becomes apparent. With one simple movement, you seem to dissolve the void between you. The uneasy silence tapers off as things become familiar once more.

He’s not sure he’ll ever grow accustomed to your kindness. How is he meant to convince himself that he’s allowed to be selfish, to take, when he has so little to give in return?

Yet even as guilt festers in his stomach and he scowls down at the place where your hands join, he still lets his fingers relax, flipping his hand upright to gently rub his thumb across the second joint of each of your fingers. Your skin is warm, soothing the chilling sensation of the memory.

Re-centering himself, Sukuna’s chest rises and falls in a heavy sigh. “I found her tongue-fucking my uncle in some corner,” he hisses, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Your lips part in shock, the realization settling slowly as your stupor morphs to revulsion. Putting together his words from the case conference earlier, you blink in further surprise. “You didn’t tell your dad?”

Sukuna’s fingers glide through yours suddenly, his much larger hand finding a place around yours as he clasps your hands together, your fingers intertwined. Your gaze shoots to your entangled hands, unable to make heads or tails of the action as heat rises from the back of your neck to the tips of your ears. You can blame the soup all you want, but you know the truth.

You’re used to Sukuna seeking comfort within you, but there’s something deeper to this. Something you don’t know how to explore with the man, and something you don’t dare bring up as he’s opening up to you.

It doesn’t matter how fast your heart hammers in your chest, or the way that blood pumps loudly behind your ears. The mixed signals, the confusing push and pull that seems to go hand-in-hand with the brute across from you, none of that matters with the air heavy with the weight of a confession long kept behind bars, never shared with a soul.

Even Toji doesn’t know, of that you’re certain.

So, you swallow hard and put your focus into his expression, something akin to guilt, averting your attention away from the warmth of his hand as best as you can.

“I couldn’t,” he admits, a look of disdain clouding his vision. “Kaori was fine for the first few years that I knew her. She was a good enough mom to Cho and sometimes me when she wanted to be,” he shrugs, a bitter snarl tugging at his lips. “Funny. She had us all fooled.”

You nod slowly, just to tell Sukuna you’re listening.

“The week before my grandpa died, we had freshman year finals. I fucked up-” he breathes, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. “Failed all four in my last semester. Wasn’t doin’ anything important, I was just bein’ a dumbass.” He shrugs, his grip on your hand tightening. “They were gonna hold me back n’ I didn’t wanna be apart from Toji or my friends, so him and I broke in.”

“To the school?”

He shoots you a look that you recognize. One that says obviously, though he keeps his mouth shut, continuing without answering your question. Now’s not exactly the time to be teasing you over what’s just your way of showing you’re listening.

“The plan was fucking stupid from the start. Thought we could change my grades without my dad or the school knowing. Dunno, I was a kid. It made sense to us back then.” He scoffs at his own ill thought-out plan. “I got arrested. Made sure Toji got away, didn’t want his family goin’ off on him so I covered for him,” he shrugs. “They had to call a guardian, so I gave ‘em Kaori’s number.”

Your head tilts and even in the midst of the heavy air, Sukuna wants to scoff at the way his blood pumps faster. “Weren’t you close to your dad? Why not call him?”

Sukuna nods slowly in acknowledgement. “We were close, yeah, but he was a teacher and I was smart, got good grades n’ shit. He was the type who didn’t really get mad, just disappointed, which was worse than whatever I thought Kaori would do.”

“What did she do?”

“Nothing,” he sighs, leaning his chin on the ball of his free hand over the table. “I never got charged, and she bribed the school into passing me, actually. It was cool of her at the time.”

Your lips purse as you listen intently. It’s a lot to take in, though you did always picture Sukuna and Toji being the type to pull a stunt like that given that you know about Sukuna’s days trying not to get caught with an incriminating can of spray paint.

“So, you didn’t tell him because she did you a favor?” You confirm with a furrowed brow. Favor or not, you’re not sure you could keep a secret like that from your parents.

But neither could Sukuna. “Fuck no,” Sukuna chuckles dryly, tensing his jaw. “I went to tell him the moment I saw her. It woulda been cruel to tell him at the funeral, but I thought it was worse to keep it from him.”

You nod intently.

“That-” His teeth are gritted as he cuts himself off, choosing his words wisely around you.

Though honestly, she’s deserving of the title he clearly wants to give her.

“She fucking blackmailed me,” he hisses. “Chased after me n’ told me she’d have the school charge me and fucking fail me,” he growls, the crease between his brows so harsh that you almost think he might give himself a headache.

Pulling his hand away from your grip, he leans back in the booth once more, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “The fuck was I supposed to do, fail? I was terrified of disappointing my dad,” he shrugs. “I got my shit together the next year, but christ, she fucking played me. I didn’t know how my record worked back then either, getting charged with a crime when you’re fourteen or some shit feels like the end of the damn world.”

In a rare moment of genuine vulnerability, a look of innocence settles in his eyes, fleeting. You often forget just how young Sukuna was when his life got turned sideways. Even his teenage years sent him through a turmoil you can’t begin to imagine. With all his rough edges and hardened lines, it’s easy to forget that the man in front of you has a soft inside so full of a genuine love for his family and even for life. That flame got taken from him bit by bit before he ever got the chance to nurture it, stuck quelling his own desires in order to make ends meet.

Though he pulled away from your hand, you find his foot beneath the table with yours, gently nudging it. “You didn’t tell him after she left?”

He uselessly throws his hands up in a shrug, his tired expression increasingly obvious in the warm overhead light of the ramen shop. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him. I think…” he trails off, inhaling sharply, “at some point I realized he was gonna die, and I didn’t want him to think his wife didn’t love him at the end.”

Your lips part, jaw hanging slightly ajar at the weight of his confession. His sorrow grips your stomach, twisting it as your expression falls. “I’m so sorry, Kuna.”

He eyes you for a moment, choosing not to reply.

The silence stretches on, your hand remaining where he left it on the table when he leaned back. A part of you wishes he would take it again so that you can offer him silent comfort, pushing down the lingering yearning that comes with such a tender action. His mind seems to be elsewhere though, his eyes glazed as he stares distantly at the decorated wall beside him.

Letting the moment linger, you find yourself pulling your hand back to stir your nearly forgotten soup. It’s still mildly steaming thankfully, which you’re grateful for given the cold weather. Less fortunately, your stomach wrenches at the thought of eating under the weight of Sukuna’s admission hanging heavy in the air.

“Do you think you could bring that up at the trial?” You query quietly. Although the judge had shut it down today, it does have pertinent information about Kaori’s character.

He shakes his head. “Nah, it doesn’t look good on either of us. I shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place, was just pissed,” he grumbles, scratching his jaw. With a deep sigh, he returns to his soup as well, taking small sips of the broth in an effort to not let the food go to waste, though he’s equally as uneasy as you are.

“Was she like that a lot? Blackmailing you and… stuff?” You wave your chopsticks through the air as you both pick at your food.

“Somethin’ like that. She just stopped pretending to give a shit, I guess,” he shrugs. “Wasn’t just me, either. Choso too,” he sighs, his brow tugging into a scowl. “Mother of the year,” he grumbles with a dramatic wave of his chopsticks in mock celebration.

If anything, it only leaves you with more questions about why she’d want the kids. Sukuna makes it sound like she didn’t care back then, what could have changed now? Of course, there’s the possibility that Sukuna could be wrong, but it seems unlikely given Kaori’s track record and her behavior earlier. The lies she’d told under oath at the courthouse may have slipped past the judge, but you saw through her.

The way she looked at you, as though you were a pawn in some game sends a shiver up your spine.

Nudging his foot as he sips a spoonful of broth, you catch his attention again. “Is she always so… ” You trail off, coming to the realization that you don’t know exactly how to describe the way Kaori acts.

He hums questioningly. “What, fake?” He asks, watching as you raise your spoon to your lips.

“Yeah, like…” You pause, holding your spoon out in front of you. “I don’t know, too sweet and caring?”

Sukuna scoffs, a hint of amusement skirting the edges of his tone. “Since the funeral, yeah.”

Poking the inside of your cheek in thought, you contemplate whether any details from Sukuna’s past could be used in the trial, but Kaori or her lawyer always seemed to have some well thought-out refute for every time Sukuna attempted to bring up her track record.

It’s almost strange, in a way, to think about how easily the judge seemed to decline any objections from Sukuna’s lawyer.

Nudging your foot to bring you back to the present, Sukuna gruffs out a “hey,” catching you off-guard. As your body jolts in surprise, your spoon tilts and the broth spills across the front of your painfully white blouse, the warmth seeping through the material. The squeak of shock that you let out sends concern rippling through Sukuna’s entire being like lightning.

“Shit,” he breathes, standing abruptly and offering napkins as he averts his gaze from the outline of your bra that’s now startlingly obvious. His gaze rounds the table as though in search of something that might fix the situation. “Fuck, did it burn you?”

Blinking as the initial shock passes, you shake your head. “Oh- um, no! No, it’s just warm.” And thank god for that, had you not waited a bit before eating, this likely would have been a hell of a lot worse. Reaching for the napkins Sukuna offers, you dab at the stain, chewing on your lip at how glaringly obvious it is, and even worse, how see-through your blouse is. You consider putting on your winter coat, but between the warm soup and heated building, that just might melt you.

Great.

Coming to the same conclusion that you have, Sukuna slips out of his suit jacket without thinking, wordlessly handing it over to you. Gratefully taking it from him, your cheeks heat up once more at the sight of his jacket draped over you. You can’t help but giggle at the way it absolutely dwarfs you in size. The sound of your laughter puts the man across from you at ease.

Between how painfully cute you look giggling in his suit jacket and the smile he has to physically fight off at the sight of you adorned in his clothes, Sukuna finds himself able to take a seat, leaning on his elbows with his hands clasped in front of his mouth.

He’d be lying if he said blood wasn’t flowing south too.

A thought crosses his mind. Something that he’s been running from, but he sets it aside. He shouldn’t even be considering the implications behind his heart’s pounding or the smile he finds himself chewing on his own cheek to fight off as he hides behind his hands. What he needs to focus on right now is your well-being.

At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself as he keeps running from that familiar thought. He knows it’s cowardly, but he’s not sure he’s in the right state of mind to face it.

“You alright, princess?” He asks from behind his hands, composing himself.

“Hm? Yeah, don’t worry! It wasn’t hot. Sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” you reply with a small smile, unbothered.

Your friend hums from across the table. “You have an unhealthy relationship with hot liquids.”

Your brow furrows as you hold his jacket around you to prevent the see-through patch from being visible. “Since when?” You can’t recall another time you’ve spilled around him. 

“The oil,” he reminds you.

Your lips purse as you scour your memory, brow shooting up as the image of an employee passing you with a bucket of oil passes through your mind. The feeling of Sukuna’s arm effortlessly holding you off the ground sends an equal amount of heat through your cheeks as the embarrassment of the near-incident itself. “Oh yeah,” you murmur, quickly scowling to deflect his accusation. “That was so long ago!”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, no longer hiding his smirk now that he’s fallen into familiar territory with you. “Ya still needed to be rescued, though,” he pokes fun at you.

Groaning playfully, you give him a light kick to the shin under the table, causing his smirk to shift into a full-on grin as he chuckles at your expense. “You’re such a dick!” You insist.

“Mm, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.”

Rolling your eyes, you return to your ramen, careful not to spill, lest you get teased further.

Though the more you think about it as you catch glimpses of Sukuna’s mild and easy smile as he eats, maybe you wouldn’t mind making a fool of yourself if it means he’s in a good headspace. Especially given the day he’s already had, there’s satisfaction to be found in seeing Sukuna laugh.

The real Sukuna.

The one that makes your stomach flutter and your heart flip.

It hurts in a way that you’re not quite prepared for, a way that’s painfully lonely in spite of being across from the person that you never quite stopped loving.

Bittersweet, you keep the tone light as easy conversation settles between you once more. Even if you hold onto your cautious inhibitions, there’s relaxation to be found in the shared warmth. “Toji told me you used to do a lot of graffiti.”

He scoffs, amused. “Been a while, but yeah.”

“He said you used to tag all the basketball courts you hung out at.”

Humming, Sukuna nods as he slurps up a noodle. “Mhm. Courts, tunnels, n’ old trains.”

“So what did you usually tag things as? Like, your name?”

Sukuna’s content smile falters, a pale pink shade dusting his cheeks. “Somethin’ like that.”

A grin slowly spreads across your lip. “Is it embarrassing?” You ask, leaning in. He glances up at you, pointedly taking another bite to avoid your interrogation. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. You know I named myself ‘Flower’ in Animal Crossing.”

His brow raises. “Weren’t you like five when you played that shit?” He retorts.

“Yeah, but…” you trail off with a shrug. “Come on, please Kuna?”

And when you tilt your head like that, your eyes gleaming like he’s a masterpiece to behold, who is he to say no?

With a drawn out sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “The King,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes shut to avoid your judgement. And for good reason as you fail miserably at fighting your grin.

When you don’t reply, he finally peeks an eye open, regretting it immediately when you break, a fit of giggles taking over.

Clicking his tongue, he rolls his eyes dramatically. “It’s not that bad,” he grumbles.

“It’s not, it’s not!” You insist between giggles, coughing in an effort to cover them as he stares at you in disdain. “It’s just… so you.”

“The fuck does that mean?” He gruffs.

“Just-” you pause, covering your lips as if he won’t be able to tell you’re still struggling not to laugh. “- I don’t know! It’s just exactly what I’d expect from you.”

“Then what’s so funny about it?” He scoffs, glowering across the table.

“Kuna,” you stare at him expectantly, as though he should just know. “Come on, you were- what? Sixteen? When you came up with that, right?” You query, met with a hum of agreement. “It’s just- it’s cute!” You insist as Sukuna continues to scowl at you. “It’s just- funny to picture a little Sukuna who thought he was really cool for that.”

His brow twitches, his hardened expression cracking. Of course Sukuna thought he was cool. He couldn’t just be ‘King’ either, no, he had to be The King. He snorts at the thought, bringing a hand up to cover his face as he chuckles. Your giggles turn into a full blown outburst of laughter that’s even contagious for Sukuna as he finds himself hunched over the table at the thought of a time long past.

Your shared laughter is musical, filling the air with a fondness that’s been missing from your lives for so long you both thought it was lost. Each moment spent basking in it, you find yourself slowly letting your guard down just a little bit more.

“I wish I could have seen one of your tags,” you grin, eyes crinkling at the corners in delight. “I guess it was a long time ago though.”

His tongue runs along his lower lip, teeth digging into the flesh to stop himself from smiling and giving away his secret.

“No way.”

He stares at the wall, his cheeks now painted in a pale rose as he leans on his elbow. His hand muffles his words as he attempts to cover his smile with it. “I think there’s one that’s still there.”

“Sorry, what’s that?” You tease.

Shooting you a knowing look from his peripherals, he makes a show of huffing. “You heard me, princess.”

“Where is it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismisses.

“Come on, please?”

“No,” he grumbles behind his hand, turning to face you finally as if in a challenge.

“I’ll ask Choso.”

His confidence falters as the gears visibly turn in his mind. He actually can’t remember if Choso knows, but there’s a very real possibility that he does. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the model brother and Choso was there for a decent chunk of his time spray painting random alleys and trains. Choso was just happy to be there with his brother, unaware of the criminality of his older brother’s actions.

With a sigh, he drags his hand over his face in defeat. “Y’know the skate park two stops past work?”

“I think so.”

“I figured out how to tag the ceiling under the bridge, it’s probably still there.”

“Oh my god, we have to go after work sometime,” you gasp in delight.

He opens his mouth to say no, but the words die in his throat at the sight of you grinning with stars in your eyes. This is the most normal things have been with you in the past couple of months, and now you’re the one asking to hang out. Not out of pity or to help his brothers. Not for work, or school. Blowing a puff of air from his nose, he relents. “Yeah, alright. If that’s what you want,” he grumbles, though even for all his grumbling, the warm look in his eyes says otherwise.

That same warmth spreads to his chest as you beam at him with a triumphant ‘yesss!’, one hand clutching your spoon as you return to your soup while the other holds his suit jacket over yourself. It drapes over your body like a dress, it's so long. The shoulders of the jacket droop, your form nowhere near as broad as his, yet somehow you make it look intentional. As though his jacket belongs to you and it always has.

His bowl of ramen sits empty as he finds his attention drawn to you. As you finish what’s left of your soup, his mind wanders. The reality he’s been running from seems to draw closer, seeping into the edges of his mind with each passing moment.

But along with it comes a guilt that settles like stones in his stomach.

“You’re still bein’ too nice to me,” he blurts out.

When you meet his gaze with a raised brow, you shake your head. “Is that a bad thing?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question, your kind way of telling him that you want to be nice, but self-sabotage is his closest friend. “You’ve always been too nice to me. After all the shit I pulled, you’re still-” he just shakes his head, his gaze drawn to the small remaining pool of soup at the bottom of his bowl. In the depths of the dish, he finds his reflection staring back at him once more, distorting each time either of you shuffle or knock the table.

With each distortion of his own picture, he finds himself frowning. It makes him look older, somehow. As though he’s grown weathered and worn. It’s been so long since he lost himself that each glance at a mirror serves as a reminder of the missing pieces of himself, fracturing in the ripples of the soup beneath him.

Maybe that’s why he clings so desperately to you and his brothers. You carry pieces of him that he recognizes, while he’s nothing more than a shadow of what once was.

“Kuna,” you scold lightly as you recognize the look in his eyes, giving his foot a nudge and capturing his sharp gaze. “Stop it.”

You know you don’t need to elaborate, he understands. He knows the multitude of meanings behind your words. The guilt boiling at the pit of his stomach isn’t so easily swayed, though. “Just thought you’d learned your lesson.”

You laugh lightly, humoring him. “Oh, I did,” you affirm. His brow raises, the distance in his eyes clearing just enough to find intrigue in his gaze. “If you’re a dick on purpose again, I’m not sticking around to be treated like that,” you smirk, your tone too warm for the words that slip past your lips.

Amused at both your choice of words and your confidence, Sukuna snorts. “Good,” he hums, shoving his bowl aside in hopes that his dreary thoughts will go along with it. “Keep it that way. The confidence looks good on you, princess.” No matter the circumstances he finds himself in, he knows he wouldn’t- couldn’t- dare to say such outright hurtful things to you again.

Heat rises up your neck like a wildfire, averting your eyes in an effort to fend it off. Luckily, the waitress returns to the table and shields you from Sukuna teasing your shyness as you ask for the bill. She returns a moment later and lets you know to pay at the front.

“Ready?” You hum, bracing your hands on the bench. When Sukuna nods, you push yourself out of the seat, brushing down Sukuna’s suit jacket before handing it back to him with a sweet ‘thank you’ as you throw your winter coat over your stained blouse.

Heading to the front of the shop, you pull out your card as the waitress prepares the keypad, but before you can move a muscle, Sukuna slots his card into the reader.

“Sukuna, what? No-” you reach out in an attempt to pull his card away. “I told you I’d pay. Ah-!” An involuntary squeak leaves you as Sukuna pulls your hand away from his card and uses a strong arm around your shoulders to slot you against him, holding you away from the machine. Even as you claw at his bicep and struggle against him in a fit of giggles and protests to let you go, he effortlessly holds you in place.

It’s such an obvious display of his muscles and you’re painfully sure he can feel the heat radiating from your skin given how close his arm is to your collar and neck. And really, how are you not supposed to think about his stupidly buff arm when the veins are right in your vision?

Asshole.

When he finally releases his grip and you stumble forward, fixing him with a pout, he just smirks at you.

“I was gonna pay!” You insist.

He shrugs. “Ramen won’t break the bank. It’s worth it for you.”

Any protests die in your throat as all you can do is blink at him. Your lips purse, his words settling in your mind.

Had he just said that it’s worth it, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it, it’s the way he specified that it’s worth it for you. Sukuna returns to his business like it’s nothing, tucking his card into his wallet and shoving his hands in his pockets, but it takes you a moment to follow after him as he pushes back out into the cold.

The brisk air hardly even hits you. Sure, it’s gotten a bit warmer, but that’s not what you’re focused on when the intonation behind Sukuna’s words only leaves you shocked, and worse, confused. You know your friendship with him runs deeper than most that he bothers to foster and you hold a place within his life that he’s willing to fight for, but this strikes you in a way that your usual banter and nudges don’t.

It brings you back to the way you’d been stunned when he intertwined your fingers in a way that felt so real.

You remember his rejection all too well, and yet… Now you’re not so sure how he feels. Maybe you’re reading into things too much, maybe this is all part of him earning your trust back, but your racing heart wants to think otherwise.

Maybe it’s all just a sick delusion.

Swallowing hard, you push aside your thoughts as you crawl back into your shell, the sudden realization of something altogether confusing leaving you scared. “Do you need a ride?”

“Nah,” Sukuna replies, the face of stoicism. He digs into his pocket, setting a cigarette between his lips. “Gonna walk to the kids’ school n’ wait. It’ll give me some time to think,” he gruffs, his voice muffled from the cigarette. His lighter clicks as it ignites, the ashen edge of the cigarette glowing like a firefly.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“See ya, princess.”

–

The office is quiet come Tuesday. Even Yuki only stole about ten minutes of your time, mostly to complain about the fact that she’s still not done with Baby Whale, and she’s absolutely sick of it.

And really, who can blame her?

Finishing up your work, you send it over to Yuki for review and approval, met with an immediate pout from her as your email pops up in her inbox right away. With an innocent smile, you’re just about to offer to take something off her plate since you’re a bit ahead of schedule when Maya pings you with a request to come see her.

Excusing yourself, you make your way over to her office with dread twisting your gut.

She likely just has a question, but there’s something stressful about being summoned to your boss’ office no matter the occasion.

Or maybe that’s just how your brain works, finding worries in the least likely of places.

Knocking, you push into Maya’s office with a polite smile, casting a glance to the side at the sight of Sukuna manspreading in a chair across from Maya’s desk with his arms crossed over his chest. Your eyes fall to his forearms, the veins protruding over rippling muscles with his sleeves pushed up. God, he’s distracting.

His aloof stare falls flickers to you before he fixes his attention on Maya again.

“Hey,” she greets, sitting up and clasping her hands professionally. Something about the momentous air in the room doesn’t settle your nerves as she addresses you. “Sorry, Sukuna and I were just finishing up his one-month review,” she explains as she hands him some paperwork. You can’t make out how it went based on either of their expressions. “While I have him here, I figured I’d call you in as well. The client pushed the due date forward on Lee’s Adventure. How far along are the edits and cover? They want them by tomorrow but I don’t want to push either of you,” she explains.

“I finalized the edits this morning, Yuki just needs to review. I can take some of her work to balance her workload,” you offer.

“Gimme an hour and the cover’s done,” Sukuna replies mildly.

“You two are lifesavers, thank you,” she sighs in relief. “I swear, as soon as we finish this, I’m done with this agent,” she grumbles. “Send me the cloud file once it’s uploaded, Sukuna. I’ll wait for Yuki and let her know you’ll take something from her.”

Once dismissed, you stretch your arms overhead as you make your way out into the main office. The moment Sukuna shuts Maya’s door, he turns towards you. “Coffee?”

Huh, you hadn’t even realized he didn’t bring you one today. “Don’t you need to work on the cover?”

“I finished it last night,” he dismisses with a smirk. “Come get coffee with me.”

You can’t help the bubbly laughter that comes with the realization of why he asked for an hour, nodding. You both make pit stops at your offices before making your way out the front door. The snow has mostly cleared and it’s finally warm enough to be in a spring jacket rather than a winter one. With the weather finally easing up, it’s nice to be outside again. No breath billowing out in front of you as your ears and the tips of your fingers freeze, just a light breeze that rustles your hair.

There’s a shop only a couple of blocks from the office that you’ve only tried once when you got to work a bit early that you had enjoyed. It’s not Sukuna’s usual choice, but his order is about as simple as it gets, so surely it can’t be too bad no matter where he goes.

“You go first,” he urges as you arrive, letting you tell the cashier what you’d like. He steps forward and requests a black coffee, playfully shoving you aside in the process because he knows you well enough to know you were about to try to pay.

“You have to let me pay for something,” you groan in mock disdain.

He shrugs, not even offering any words.

Sighing, you shake your head. “Thanks, Kuna.”

He hums in acknowledgement, handing your drink over as it slides across the counter.

Once his arrives, he leads the way to a table and slides down in the chair, taking a sip of his coffee. He sighs at the familiar taste, grateful to finally get some caffeine in his system to keep him awake.

“So, how’d your review go?” You ask, taking slow sips of your warm drink.

“Pretty good,” he nods, glancing off to the side in thought. He seems tired again, though given that you both thought the trial was last Thursday, the kids probably did too, which really would only extend Sukuna’s troubles. “I guess the fucker who thought you were his personal assistant complained, but other than that she seemed pretty happy.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes. “Reggie’s the worst. He’s so full of himself.”

Yawning, your friend shrugs again. “Whatever. She didn’t really seem like she cared that he complained.”

“That’s good at least. I don’t think anyone really likes him, so-”

You cut yourself off as Sukuna begins digging in his pocket abruptly, scowling at his vibrating phone as he processes the name on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

From your perspective, he continues to glower at nothing in particular as he listens to whoever’s on the other line. He hums or grunts in reply, though he doesn’t offer much for insight until something seems to catch his attention.

“What?” He growls, hackles raised as he’s suddenly sitting upright. “It shouldn’t be ready for weeks.”

More silence as Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, tousling it. “The f-” he cuts himself off, adjusting his phrasing, “what does it say, anyway?”

You take a sip of your coffee, trying to give him privacy, but it’s hard when you left your phone at the office and have no distraction beyond your surroundings.

He sighs heavily, waving his hand uselessly through the air in exasperation. “Gotta be kidding me, of course it does.”

Huffing as he continues to listen to the caller, his frustrations quickly explode into full-blown fury. “How? You said we shoulda had fuckin’ weeks, how is that fucking possible?” He barks.

Your eyes widen at the sudden change in tone. The tattooed man casts a glance around the cafe before abruptly standing and pushing out the door to continue his conversation outside. Choosing to give him privacy, you stay in your seat, watching with concern as he throws his hands in the air in disbelief from outside the window. It takes a few minutes before he hangs up and dumps his phone into his pocket. He throws his head back, dragging his hands over his face and remaining there for a good minute before swinging the cafe door back open with enough vigor that it meets the wall behind it.

Sukuna plops down in the chair across from you, picking up the coffee he’d left on the table and downing it in one go. Your brow raises as you regard him with concern.

Before you can voice your concern, Sukuna speaks up. “What’re you doing tomorrow morning?” He asks tersely, his gaze fixated on the paper cup in his grasp that he’s struggling not to crush in his own bout of irritation.

“Um-” you hesitate, scouring your mind for anything important. “Just classes, why?”

“The fuckin’ trial’s tomorrow.”

You recoil in horror, eyes wide. “What? How?”

“Fuckin’ Kaori,” he hisses. “Fucking snake put an urgent push on the date and I guess it only needs twenty four hours’ notice,” he growls, the cup in his hand fracturing under the weight of his hold. He sets it down on the table before whatever liquid’s left in the paper cup drips onto his gray slacks. “Can’t believe they’re letting her get away with this shit.”

“Wouldn’t she need, like, evidence or something to make it urgent?” You shake your head quizzically, trying to make sense of the sudden weight placed on Sukuna. It had only been a handful of days since he’d come to terms with the fact that he had more time and now the rug is being pulled out from under him as fast as it had been laid out.

Sukuna shakes his head and shrugs at once. “I don’t fuckin’ know.” His tone is disdainful as he harshly rubs his hands over his face. “She paid for a rush on the house study and it should have been done in a few weeks instead of months, not a few fuckin’ days,” he snaps, not directed at anyone in particular.

“You don’t think…” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip as you bring up something that’s been gnawing at you.

“Yeah, I do fucking think this shit is rigged,” he finishes your thought, pushing a hand through his salmon locks. He exhales heavily, eyes alight. “Fuck, I just told the kids things were okay and now I’m a fucking liar, and she’s fuckin’ cheating somehow, I- I don’t-” his anger and anxiety begin to blur, the lines separating them beginning to converge as his leg bounces beneath the table.

The fire in his eyes is quickly extinguished by fear as he considers what his next twenty four hours will look like.

You can’t watch despair take over without stepping in. Reaching across the table, you offer your hand. “I’ll be there. Class doesn’t matter. What time?”

He turns his attention to you, his eyes flickering between your face and your outstretched hand. “Ten thirty,” he grumbles, cautiously reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Thanks, princess.”

With a sympathetic smile, you nod.

“Shit, I gotta…” he trails off, inhaling sharply. “I gotta get home n’ meet with the lawyer,” he mumbles, his day immediately cut short by none other than Kaori.

Squeezing his hand reassuringly, you capture his attention again. “Do you want some tea or something before you leave?” You offer, recalling how fast he downed his coffee.

Sukuna nods hesitantly. “Another coffee would be nice,” he mumbles, standing before you can move. “I can get it, though.”

“Let me get you this,” you plead as you push to your feet.

He takes a moment to examine the determined gleam in your eyes before giving in. “Sure.”

With a new cup of coffee in hand shortly afterwards, he thanks you quietly as you begin the short and tense walk back to work. The morning had seemed so easy barely a half hour ago, and now you can’t help but think that you took that sensation for granted.

Silence follows you as you let yourselves back into the building, quietly following Sukuna to his office while you stand in the doorway as he begins packing up.

“Don’t forget to send that cover to Maya,” you remind him.

He mutters a curse under his breath, the dark circles under his eyes painfully apparent as he pulls his laptop back out and quickly sends the files over to your boss.

Once he’s finished packing up, his coffee in-hand, you stop him before the door with a hand on his forearm. He regards you with a look that breathes only exhaustion.

“It’ll be okay,” you reassure him.

Despite the swirling anger and anxiety living within the crimson oceans of his irises, something stronger breaks through when he steels himself as he replies. “I know. I won’t let her fuckin’ win.”

You offer a smile, grateful for the resolve that he continues to nurture despite his own doubts. His brothers need him, and he’ll play the role he needs to in order to win the trial, no matter how much he feels as though he’s at his wit’s end. You can only pray he holds himself above water long enough to keep himself from drowning.

“Good luck, Kuna.”

He examines your expression for a moment, simply nodding as he pulls away from your grasp and slips out the front door without a word.

–

Your stomach churns uncomfortably as you stare in the mirror. It’s funny, the way you’d felt so prepared for this day for so long, but now that it’s here, it sits like a molten lava in your stomach. It churns and sears at your insides, unsettling you to your very core. If this is how you’re feeling as a bystander, you can only imagine the way Sukuna’s feeling right now.

They’re not your family, not your brothers, but they’re dear to you. All three of them.

Running your hands down the front of your black pencil skirt, you nod to yourself in the mirror. Fiddling with the sleeve of your (now stain-free) white blouse, you gather your keys and throw on a nice coat and professional plain black heels.

Even the thought of listening to music doesn’t seem right on the drive to the courthouse. Your mind is filled with trepidation, your finger tapping idly at the leather steering wheel as you opt for silence on the way there.

The world around you seems to hold its breath as you step out of your vehicle, your heels landing on fresh pavement. The birds overhead are silent, although a pair of crows eye you from their perch atop a tree. The air is suffocating, and you long for the relief that the end of this hearing will surely bring.

Your gaze falls on the large wooden doors at the front of the familiar stone building with flags at either side. The sheer size alone is imposing enough as is, but the cool and smooth exterior of the monotonous building does no favors to ease your stress. You would almost think they want you to be nervous upon arrival.

Pushing through the doors, you’re reminded that the inside is no better. After making it through security, there are very few windows, the artificial overhead lighting beating down on you as though it’s passing its own judgement. A large reception desk sits at the center of the room, alongside a pair of hallways on either end of the lobby. Evaluating the vaguely familiar room, you find the person you’re searching for fairly easily, his hair standing out in the waiting crowd with Ms. Harte sitting silently beside him.

The click of your heels alerts Sukuna to your presence before you take a seat beside him. He’s dressed to the nines, but you don’t have the luxury of appreciating just how good he looks given the gravity of the situation. When he lifts his head, you find yourself frowning regardless. His eyes are little more than an endless sea of doubts, stress, fears, and misery. There’s a distance glazed over his eyes that suggests he’s not all there right now, hanging on by a thread.

He’s worn so thin that even the sight of you doesn’t ease any of the thoughts running through his mind. He’s gone over the case so many times with his lawyer in the past twenty four hours that he’s not sure he even can be any more prepared, yet he still finds himself feeling vastly underprepared. The short notice in particular claws at the very flesh of his being, as though Kaori is personally taunting him.

“Hey.” Your voice is soft as you offer him a smile, but your nerves are evident in the twitch of your brow. His pupils slide slowly from your face down to your wrist, where he can faintly see the red and purple twine bracelets hidden beneath your semi-translucent sleeve. You may be here in part to support him, which he appreciates more than you could ever know, but he knows the gravity of this situation affects you too, given how much you adore his little brothers.

He almost regrets ever dragging you into this part of his life. The only reason he can even dare to put the word ‘almost’ in that thought is because if he ever dared to express that, you’d chew him out. He thinks he’d let you without so much as batting an eye either, because he needs you.

“Sukuna?” You softly call out to him and his gaze finally raises from your wrist once more to meet your eyes. He examines you for a moment, his finger twitching as he longs to reach out. He longs for the comfort the warmth of your soft skin brings him, but his own self-doubt plagues him down as though he’s wading through mud. He barely has enough strength to keep himself afloat, let alone to dare ask for something.

He knows he’s made leaps and bounds of progress in your relationship over the last few weeks, but as he braves the fog of his mind, he can’t seem to make sense of the lines that separate you anymore. He can’t bear the thought of overstepping.

As is, there’s already a risk he loses his brothers. He can’t lose you, too.

Not again.

Clearing his throat, he gruffly pushes out a reply. “Hey.”

Your brow furrows, “Do you need some water?” You offer, sure you can find somewhere to get him some.

He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m fine.”

You both know well that it’s a lie. Neither of you are fine.

The dejected tone he speaks in doesn’t do him any favors, either. To think this is the same man you met so many months ago almost seems like a joke. Usually so full of pride and bravado, the world has stomped out every last flame that once made up the stubborn brute. He seems almost like a shell of his former self.

It’s strange, when you consider what you’d just told Shoko last week, that Sukuna seems more like himself. The more you think about it, now you’re not so sure. It’s as though his own life is beating him down into a person that you wonder if he even recognizes.

Your heart twists at the thought that somewhere along the line, the man sitting beside you lost himself.

He lost you, he lost himself, and now he’s at risk of losing what’s left of his world.

It only makes you more furious with his step-mother. You don’t see her or her lawyer on this side of the waiting room, and thank god for that. The look of control she always bears makes your skin crawl.

“How are Choso and Yuji?” You keep your voice low as you check in on your friend and his brothers.

Sukuna sighs quietly. “Uraume’s with ‘em. Couldn’t get them to go to school. When I told ‘em what was going on, Choso…” He just shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

“He shut down?”

Sukuna hums in thought. “No, I think he’s tryin’ to listen to you.” He shuffles in his seat, sitting up. Tugging at his collar and tie uncomfortably, he cracks his neck. “I just dunno what to do. He’s outside my door tryin’ to talk every few minutes, but I-” With a shrug, he shakes his head again. He knows you get him. He doesn’t need to tell you that he doesn’t have a way with words, you know.

“He just needs you to be there for him. You don’t have to say anything.”

The crimson of his eyes seems to swirl with doubts as he examines you, but he finds it in himself to nod, slumping back in the chair once more.

“How’d the house study turn out?” You query, hoping that will at least help his case.

Shakily sighing, he tilts his head in a ‘so-so’ manner. “No issues with the house,” he states, his gaze fixated on an empty chair in front of him. “But they looked at the kids’ mental health as well, and Yu’s went fine but Cho…” he shakes his head with a sigh, knowing he doesn’t need to spell it out for you. “Good news is they gave us a record of what both kids said and asked ‘em both about me and Kaori.”’

“That should help,” you agree, thankful that even if Choso is too young to testify, at least the kids’ opinions are taken into account to some degree.

“Yeah…” He agrees, though he doesn’t seem to share your optimism, his gaze still painfully distant with the weight of his ambivalence.

Unable to keep his mind on-track for a conversation, he inhales sharply as the tense silence of the courthouse surrounds you both. The closer the time strikes to ten thirty, the more the air seems claustrophobic despite the high ceilings and large, open lobby. With each second that passes, Sukuna finds his leg bouncing quicker, his mind racing faster, and his heart damn-near pounding right out of his chest.

Every muscle in his body is rife with tension, and his chest could implode at any second given the burden that claws at his lungs. He can only sit with his hands clasped in his lap, acting as though the taste in his mouth isn’t so vile that he could wretch.

Quietly drowning, he doesn’t dare to even cast you a glance. As though every mistake he’s ever made with his brothers isn’t already crashing through his mind like a wave, he can’t bear to consider the ones he’s made with you.

But you’ve always been too sweet to him.

In a silent show of support, your fingers glide across the skin of his clasped hands, settling atop them. You run your thumb gently over his knuckles, the warmth of your skin soothing the frigid water that threatens his lungs. The sympathy on your features would frustrate him if you were anyone else, but from you, it doesn’t taste so bitter.

He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes. His leg gradually stops bouncing as your thumb continues to softly brush his skin. He casts you a grateful glance despite his silence, too afraid of ruining the moment and losing the one thing keeping him sane.

It’s funny, really. Or maybe funny isn’t the right word. But Sukuna remembers a time where nothing scared him. He remembers being the type of kid who would dive headfirst into a fist fight with someone bigger than him just because they bumped into him.

He’d even gotten off lucky once when he’d thrown a punch at some rich kid tattling on him for skateboarding in a park where it was prohibited, but he’d narrowly missed and slammed his fist into the wall. Why is that lucky? Because the money Jin had to spend fixing Sukuna’s fist is nothing compared to the money he could have spent on a worthless lawsuit. That was also one of the first times Sukuna had ever experienced the true shame in being at the center of Jin’s disappointment.

It’s also the single moment in his life that decided that he would call Kaori rather than Jin when he was arrested.

But Sukuna’s world has flipped on its head, and that’s not who he is anymore. He doesn’t have the luxury of throwing reckless punches at the wall.

He needs to be better, for his brothers. He wants to be better and build a world where they can have what Sukuna couldn’t.

He casts you a glance. You’re part of that world, too, though he struggles to identify what role it is that you play.

“Case number 2493, Sukuna versus Itadori.”

Sukuna’s head whips up to face a man in a full suit standing at the edge of the waiting area with a woman dressed equally as pristinely at his side. He recognizes them as the bailiff and court clerk, ready to lead the way to the family courtroom and staring expectantly at the waiting crowd.

Ms. Harte gets to her feet, leading the way with a confident gait. She greets the court clerk and bailiff with a professional smile while waiting on Sukuna who’s much slower to get to his feet. He pulls his hands away from you, brushing his suit down and adjusting his tie. He loosens it slightly, but the choking feeling he’s experiencing isn’t the tie at all.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he glances back over the chair as though he might be forgetting something, before following after the lawyer. Although your nerves are more subtle than Sukuna’s, you find yourself following his lead, brushing down your outfit as though your presence has any bearing on the case.

From the opposite side of the waiting room comes Kaori in a flawlessly fitted suit and pencil skirt with a new obvious display of wealth sparkling in the overhead light as it dangles from her neck with matching earrings to boot. Her confidence is picturesque with not a single hair out of place. Her lawyer, Mr. Cahn, stands as proudly as ever beside her in a navy suit, equally as prepared as she seems.

You’ve only seen her once before, for such a brief period of time as she drove Sukuna through hoops in an effort to take her children from him, and yet were this not a courthouse, you would have words for her. Choice words. You didn’t know back then the lengths she was willing to go through to ruin Sukuna’s life, and now you can only wonder what more is in store.

You’re not one to raise your voice, nor start fights, but she’s caused so much needless pain and suffering to those three brothers, that you find yourself wanting a fight. You can only imagine how Sukuna feels about her as you catch a glimpse of the daggers he’s sending her way.

She’s lucky his lawyer warned him to stay on the judge’s good side this time around.

In your mind, she’s the textbook definition of a monster, so her kind and somewhat sympathetic smile cast in Sukuna’s direction as she approaches immediately strikes you as fake. Much like every other nicety she’s thrown his way over the past week.

Sukuna’s hands ball into fists at his sides as the clerk ushers your parties to a courtroom simply labeled as ‘four’. The clerk pushes his way into the small room, helping both parties get situated at separate tables before the judge’s bench as he and the bailiff take their own seats.

The room is smaller than what you’ve seen in the movies. There’s very little room to move around and apart from the flags that hang at the door, the small room is painted only in dull and somewhat dark tones of cream and walnut. There’s still no windows, the sterile overhead lights being the only source of light and painfully so. The artificial feeling of the room does no favors for your nerves.

The clerk leads you to the small section of gallery seating behind Sukuna as the only viewer of the case, though you suppose that family law likely doesn’t get many spectators, so it figures that you’re alone. Still, the uncomfortable chair doesn’t add any layer of comfort.

Both lawyers quietly discuss the case with their clients while awaiting the arrival of the judge. Ms. Harte emphasizes courtroom rules to Sukuna before quickly going over the points she expects Kaori to use given the documents that had been provided by the opposing lawyer during their latest disclosure of evidence and the case conference last week. Among the evidence is a variety of photos, school records, and much to Sukuna’s dismay, evidence of every transgression plaguing his troubled childhood.

Every. Single. One.

His lawyer had assured him she didn’t see this being an issue given how old most of the documents are, but he’s still little more than a hulking mass of tension, while the opposing party on the opposite side of the room is the picture of confidence. That serves to make you more nervous, but Sukuna’s been the kids’ guardian for so long that there’s no way he can lose.

The door to the courtroom creaks open as a tall man in a gray suit enters the room. As Sukuna recognizes that the trial is about to begin, he inhales deeply, casting aside as many of his doubts as he can to present himself as one thing: determined.

For a moment, you even think you see a glimpse of the confident bravado Sukuna once wore back when you first met. It may be a mask he wears to keep up the appearance of his resolve, but a sliver of that mask bears a resemblance to the Sukuna you recognize.

He can do this.

The bailiff stands at the entrance to the room, straightening as she presents the judge. “Please rise. The Honorable Judge Martinez is now presiding.”

The judge runs a hand through his graying hair, which seems as though it may have been black once, as he takes a seat at the head of the room. His calm and authoritative emerald eyes slide across the room, taking in the scene before him and lingering a moment too long on Sukuna for your comfort. You can only hope he isn’t judging Sukuna’s ability to parent his brothers by his appearance.

That presumes anything but a fair trial, and given that Sukuna already suspects some sort of foul play on Kaori’s end, that doesn’t bode well for him.

Everything about this experience seems to differ from your expectations, as though everything you’ve seen in movies and TV isn’t quite right. Or maybe that only applies to family court, you can’t be sure.

The judge pulls a pair of glasses from his pocket, setting them on the bridge of his nose as he reads a brief summary of the case before him. As he wasn’t present during the case conference, all evidence will be new to him, which works in Sukuna’s favor as well given his outburst towards Kaori.

“Please be seated,” comes the bailiff’s instructions. Crossing your legs, you bite your lip as the hearing begins.

Judge Martinez addresses the room.  “The court is now in session. We are here to address case 2493, Itadori versus Sukuna, for custody over the children Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori. This is in regards to social file number 34785-98. I will be directing this case myself.”

Sukuna’s stomach flips in dread. Coming up on four years of taking care of them on his own and it all led to this. He wants to spew curses at his step-mother, to chew her up and spit her out wounded and bleeding, but he doesn’t dare break his calm facade. As far as anyone in this room needs to know, he’s a picturesque guardian to his brothers.

“Ms. Itadori, as the applicant in this case, we will open with your counsel’s statement.”

Kaori’s lawyer rises, bowing to the judge. He runs a hand through his well-kempt beard before beginning. “Thank you, Your Honor. My name is Richard Cahn and I will be representing the applicant, Ms. Kaori Itadori. My client is applying for full custody of these children as the biological mother of Yuji Itadori and Choso Itadori. Due to unfortunate circumstances regarding her health, Ms. Itadori was unable to care for the children after the passing of her husband, Jin Itadori, however she has since fully recovered and is now capable of providing for the children.” Her lawyer pauses, casting a glance at Sukuna, who keeps his eyes straight ahead in an effort not to break. “We acknowledge the important role Mr. Sukuna has played in their lives as their half-brother, however his actions have demonstrated that he is still young and not fit to take care of two children at this time.”

Judge Martinez nods in acknowledgement to the opposing party, motioning to Ms. Harte on Sukuna’s side. “I would like to hear from the counsel for the respondent.”

Sukuna’s lawyer stands, and you’re grateful for her confidence, because you’re struggling to share it. At least Sukuna is keeping up his confidence. Ms. Harte introduces herself in the same manner as Mr. Cahn, before beginning her statement.

“Your Honor, my client, Mr. Ryomen Sukuna, is the older half-brother of Yuji Itadori and Choso Itadori and they have been in his legal care for the past three and a half years. Mr. Sukuna has raised them since Mr. Itadori fell ill and you will find that he has successfully provided stability, a safe home, and a positive environment for them over the years. While we acknowledge Ms. Itadori’s blood-relation to the children, they have shown an overall preference for their older brother, and I would like to ask that you consider what is in their best interest for this case.”

The judge nods upon hearing both opening statements. He scans the legal paperwork beneath his hands before rattling off a series of legal rules to the room. He goes over the procedures for the hearing, making a point that he would not like either party interrupting, and that he will direct the conversation. He explains that he will begin with the applicant, to have the respondent act as such- a responder.

After ensuring his instructions are clear, he allows the bailiff to call the first witness to the stand, Kaori herself. Sukuna had inquired about having you be a witness, but his attorney advised against it as your relationship with one another wasn’t set in stone or easy to describe and could serve as a detriment against an opposition like Kaori. As such, both parties had disclosed that their only witnesses would be the two guardians themselves.

There’s no witness stand for Kaori to move to in the small family courtroom, so she simply gets to her feet. Politely clasping her hands, she takes a vow to tell the truth, swearing herself in, and bows to the judge.

With Kaori now prepared to answer questions, her lawyer rounds the table to stand closer to the judge as he presents himself to the grander room. “Ms. Itadori, please explain the reasoning behind your inability to take guardianship of your children upon your husband’s passing.”

With a nod, Kaori smiles politely. “When my husband passed away, I had recently taken a job overseas to help provide for our family. It was a difficult decision to leave, however I felt it was for the best to prepare for our future. I was made aware that my husband was sick after my departure and we spoke daily, however I didn’t receive any notice that he had passed away for quite some time. I tried to reach out, but never heard back.”

Sukuna’s nails dig into his palms beneath the table at the blatant lie, but he does everything he can to keep his expression neutral. At the end of the day it’s her word against his, he can’t afford to tarnish the judge’s view of him.

“I had booked a flight back when I didn’t hear back after a couple of days, but I became quite ill out of nowhere. Um-” She pauses, her mask of confidence slipping for just a moment as she glances down at the table before her. “Here are my medical records and the flight ticket receipts.”

Her lawyer takes the documents, presenting them to the judge, who lays the paperwork out before him. He scans them briefly, motioning with his hand. “Please continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I only recovered late last year, otherwise I would have started this process much earlier. I love my children and I regret missing such a large portion of their lives.”

Mr. Cahn nods in approval at her testimony. “Please testify to the statement made that Mr. Sukuna is unfit for guardianship.”

Kaori nods, clearing her throat. “Of course. My step-son didn’t reach out when my husband passed away, and I was distraught to find that he had taken custody of my own children after learning of my husband’s passing. I helped raise Mr. Sukuna since he was nine years old, but he always caused problems. I have school records as evidence of his poor grades and misdemeanors.”

Her lawyer passes the documents along to the judge as she continues

“And here’s a photo Ryomen took with my son Choso which shows him trespassing in a train yard committing property damage. Not only is this inappropriate behaviour, but my son is very impressionable and this unacceptable.” She clasps her hands in front of herself, keeping up her responsible and caring appearance. “How is Mr. Sukuna meant to be trusted as a guardian, when he has demonstrated his poor abilities to care for my children as a babysitter?”

Sukuna’s mask of neutrality begins to break as he’s just about ready to pull his own hair out. A fucking selfie from when he was sixteen. Come the fuck on. Although he’s already seen all of her evidence, it’s hard not to be irritated with the woman when she’d held onto his records all these years later. He’s certain she did it for no other reason than to hold them over his head if she ever needed to.

“I’m aware these are older, however I don’t believe his behavior has changed. Before serving him with this case, I was going to talk to him about discussing this in a more civil manner, however I didn’t feel safe leaving my kids with him when I found him smoking outside of his apartment with someone while my kids were alone upstairs.”

Sukuna shuffles in his seat, but he can’t recall whatever Kaori is talking about. It’s not like he would have left them for long, he was right outside. If he were to guess, he was likely with Uraume if he was smoking with someone and it was before the lawsuit. It probably wasn’t you.

Kaori glances back down over the evidence on the table in front of her. “I would also like to bring attention to Mr. Sukuna’s employment. His lawyer provided us with his records, and he was working two jobs, while also attending college. This is irresponsible for my children’s well-being and wouldn’t allow him any time to be home with them. He would need to leave them in the care of other people, or even alone, rather than being with them himself.”

The worst part about this trial for Sukuna as he’s forced to sit in silence, is not being able to scream from the top of his lungs that at least he was there at all. Kaori can claim she was sick all she would like and Sukuna can’t refute that, but he sees through it.

“For those reasons, I would like to suggest that full custody is returned to me, as their mother. My husband and I have prepared rooms for both boys and we have the money and time to provide for them.”

Sukuna’s head whips towards Kaori, scanning her left hand. Sure enough, a rock as extravagant as the necklace she’s flaunting sits around her ring finger. Husband? Since when? That hadn’t been in any of the documents that had been provided to Sukuna and Ms. Harte. How had she had the time to get married if she was supposedly so sick?

He swallows hard, staring at the table in front of him. Surely the judge can see the holes in her logic just as Sukuna can.

Does she really just hate Sukuna that much that she can’t bear the thought of having a conversation with him to solve this?

That’s a useless thought, though. After everything that’s happened with her, Sukuna wouldn’t have handed over custody. It’s not what his brothers want, and he can see now more than ever that this isn’t in their best interest. He’s been trying to convince himself for months now that he’s a good guardian, but for the first time it’s glaringly obvious. Kaori is lying through her teeth, even after taking an oath, but Sukuna can’t refute any of her lies, he has no proof of anything.

Every word from Kaori is coldly calculated to take Sukuna down and his gut twists with each lie she tells.

He can’t figure out for the life of him what her angle is, either. What does she want them for? She clearly didn’t want them to begin with, so what the hell changed?

And worse still are Sukuna’s fears that Kaori is somehow manipulating the outcome of the trial. He needs to put his faith in the system, but it’s not easy when he has to watch her lie so outlandishly with such confidence, only to receive a nod from the judge.

Before her lawyer can speak, Kaori chimes in one last time, tilting her head towards Sukuna as she feigns motherly love for her step-son. “I appreciate everything Mr. Sukuna has done for my children, however he’s young, he has no support, and he has no experience raising children. Mr. Sukuna has always struggled with his emotions, as documented by his school records, and I don’t believe he can provide the emotional support my children require, particularly Choso.”

Emotional support. There it is. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? Like she knows just how to hit him where it hurts.

The weight on Sukuna’s chest bears down harder on him as she points out his shortcomings. He knows. He knows. Fuck, he knows. But it’s still better than what she can offer. It takes every ounce of Sukuna’s concentration to keep reminding himself of that. He won’t deny that he’s young and inexperienced in raising children. He won’t deny that he was horribly ill-prepared at first.

But he was there. He wasn’t perfect, he still isn’t. But he was there and that has to count for something.

“Ms. Itadori, can you comment on the urgency of this case?” Mr. Cahn pushes.

“Absolutely. We pushed for a rush of the house study due to my concerns for my oldest son’s mental well-being which that study confirmed, however upon being on the receiving end of my step-son’s behavioral issues last week during and following the case conference, I felt that it was important to place an urgent rush on this trial.” She grimaces as though this is some sort of grave and unfortunate ordeal for her.

Her lawyer nods in approval once again, all lines from both people in their party clearly rehearsed to a T. “That is all, Your Honor.”

The judge motions to Ms. Harte accordingly. “Thank you, Ms. Itadori. I would like to invite the respondent’s attorney to cross-examine the witness.”

Ms. Harte stands, confidently rounding the tables. Her heels click across the hardwood floor as she finds a place before Kaori. “Ms. Itadori,” she begins, “you claim that my client did not reach out upon your husband’s death, can you comment on the records that I provided your party detailing his efforts to reach out?”

“May I see these records?” The judge chimes in.

“Of course, Your Honor,” Ms. Harte agrees, handing over the paperwork.

“I do see here that Ryomen reached out, however none of my contact information here is right. I had moved recently and swapped to company-owned devices when I received a promotion at my job,” Kaori confidently explains. Her drawl carries an air of arrogance, as though nothing could possibly break her air-tight testimony.

“How could that be? Why would your step-son not have your proper contact information?”

“As I mentioned previously, Ryomen has a record of delinquency and I didn’t feel it was appropriate to step in and police how my husband chose to parent him,” she explains with ease. “We communicated very rarely after I left, and I didn’t have his number on-hand to reach out when Jin wasn’t replying.”

Sukuna’s lawyer pushes further. “Can you still say that you helped to raise Mr. Sukuna and know him well if you weren’t willing to step in as a parent?”

Kaori nods. “I did everything I could to appeal to Ryomen. I was there for every holiday, I took him to his driver’s test, and would take him shopping. My husband and I decided it was for the best that I tried to only create good memories with him since he wasn’t fond of me for a while. I believe for a while, he saw me as a threat to the attention he received from his father.”

Ms. Harte doesn’t so much as stutter as she continues to question Kaori. “If you weren’t willing to step in with Mr. Sukuna, why should the court believe you’ll do so with Choso and Yuji Itadori?”

“Those are my children. I’m comfortable parenting them how I believe is best, and I know their needs well.” she attests, her form straightening. “My children need their mother.”

Ms. Harte shakes her head. “Can you say that you know their needs well when the house study details not only that neither child remembers you, but also that their preference is for my client’s guardianship?”

The judge flips through the documents submitted to the court laid out in front of him, nodding in acknowledgement once he’s skimmed the children’s statements.

Yet Kaori always seems prepared. “I acknowledge that they were both young when I took a position overseas, and I have reason to believe that the preference towards Ryomen that they have stated is purely for that reason. Given the opportunity, I know they would thrive in my care,” she states confidently. “They’ve only chosen Mr. Sukuna as they don’t know what it means to be outside of his care.”

Sukuna’s lawyer mentally resets as Kaori rebounds easily. Addressing the room as a whole as she continues. “In addition, I would like to request that the documents provided by the applying party regarding my client’s educational misdemeanors be disregarded, as nothing is dated within the last four years.”

The judge regards Sukuna quietly for a moment before nodding. “Sustained.”

Ms. Harte bows politely. “Thank you, Your Honor. Additionally, I would like to ask that claims of Mr. Sukuna being seen outside of his apartment are disregarded as hearsay, as my client does not recall this.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up, taking a stand. “I would like to ask that the court considers that a guardianship case is primarily hearsay, especially in circumstances where the children are too young to testify. Would Mr. Sukuna’s claim that he doesn’t recall this moment not be equally considered hearsay?”

The judge takes a moment to consider this, before clasping his hands together. “I agree. Your request is overruled,” he addresses Ms. Harte. Sukuna rolls his shoulders in his seat, crossing his arms to mask his irritation.

It’s not like there haven’t been small wins and pushes in Sukuna’s favor, but the cards seem to fall ever in Kaori’s favor, no matter how hard Ms. Harte and Sukuna fight.

“Very well, Your Honor,” Ms. Harte relents, clearly frustrated by this outcome. “In any case, I would like to ask that Ms. Itadori provides further information on this claim.”

“Of course,” Kaori smiles easily. “I arrived from overseas on September 4th, and went to visit my step-son on the sixth in the evening, which is when I witnessed him smoking with someone.”

“Do you have any evidence the children were home at the time?” Ms. Harte queries.

Kaori hesitates for a moment, the first crack in her confidence that sends a wave of relief through both you and Sukuna. “No, but I have no reason to believe they were somewhere else either.”

Ms. Harte nods, moving along. “You mentioned that you and your husband will be able to provide for the children. If you were unable to reach your phone due to illness, when did you have time to be married after your husband Jin’s passing while ill?”

Kaori cracks once more, hesitation crossing her features for the briefest of moments. “We met prior to Jin’s passing, and he supported me through my grief and sickness. Our ceremony was days before I returned to see my children in September and our honeymoon has yet to happen. Everything has happened very quickly,” she explains.

Sukuna sits upright in his seat, blinking at the realization that while she may not have admitted it, there’s no fucking way she didn’t cheat on Jin. Again. Sukuna grits his teeth hard, the pressure in his jaw tightening until he’s physically holding back a snarl. Sukuna can live with the ways she wronged him, but to smite Jin in his final days? He wants nothing more than to put her in her place.

But all he can do is sit in silence while Ms. Harte moves along, Kaori’s response is too sound to question further. “Ms. Itadori, you claim that Mr. Sukuna’s work schedule wouldn’t give him much time to be with the kids, however as outlined in the documents provided to your lawyer, you can see that Sukuna has recently taken a new position to allow himself more time with them.”

Kaori shoots a glance at the paperwork in front of her, nodding. “I see that, however his resume doesn’t give me confidence that he’s able to keep that job. He doesn’t seem to hold onto anything for much longer than a year, and that same document says that he recently dropped out of college.”

Unperturbed, Sukuna’s lawyer presses. “He put the children first over his own desires. Does that not show a dedication to these kids?”

Kaori considers this for a moment, casting a glance at her lawyer, though he nods confidently as though they’ve gone over the possibility of this coming up. You wonder if she’s even speaking in her own words, or if everything is a premeditated response, practiced. “It does, however I’m concerned for his ability to provide for my sons if he’s unable to hold a job or schooling. By dropping out, he’s also limited his career options,” she points out. “He doesn’t seem to have the qualifications for his current position, either.”

Sukuna stiffens at the mention of college, his leg inadvertently bouncing again under the table. He’s not sure if it ever stopped shaking, really, or if he’s just now noticing it again.

“There are more ways than just school to climb within the workforce nowadays, Ms. Itadori. Additionally, my client has proven more than capable of providing for the children financially by any means necessary. He’s shown his willingness and dedication to them through his actions,and has never once been unable to pay rent, keep food on the table. I do hope that the court will consider that money isn’t everything.” She turns to face the judge, politely bowing. “That is all, Your Honor.”

Ms. Harte returns to her seat beside Sukuna, where he’s waiting with white knuckles as he braces himself on the arms of his chair, preparing to testify.

The bailiff thanks Kaori, willing her to sit. She then turns her attention to Sukuna, giving him the opportunity to testify as well.

Sukuna turns to his lawyer briefly for assurance, before he pushes to his feet. Rolling his shoulders and smoothing down his suit, he takes the same oath of truthfulness as Kaori. He prays that neither the judge, nor the opposing party can hear the shaky breath he takes before Ms. Harte pushes him to begin his statement.

“Your Honor, Ms Harte,” Sukuna addresses the judge and his lawyer as he begins, hesitantly shifting from foot to foot as he stares down at his hands. Clearing his throat, his chest remains tight, his voice low as he speaks. “I- uh- I’ve been taking care of my brothers since my dad died. I got us an apartment, started workin’ and have letters from my employers to show my work ethic,” he pauses to hand these to his lawyer, “and I found a babysitter my brothers like.”

Sukuna’s gaze shifts up to the judge as the letters are passed along, straightening as he feels the scrutinizing glares of his step-mother and her lawyer in his peripherals. His own voice sounds unfamiliar to him as he tries to match the formal tone of the courtroom.

“I taught myself how to cook their favorite foods, I read to ‘em,” he wracks his brain for more details. “Learned how to change diapers, and I make sure they stay in school.” He sighs quietly as he scowls down at the table before him in thought. Every hardship and distant memory of the difficulty of teaching oneself to take care of children seems to weigh him down as he recounts each and every way he taught himself to step up.

He may have been forced into this life, but in every lifetime he’d do it over again if it means his brothers are happy.

Steeling himself, he fixes the judge with a determined gaze. “I stepped up. I did what I had to when I couldn’t reach their mom, and I’m still here. My little brothers are happy, they got food on the table, a roof over their heads, n’ they’re in school with friends. I’ll do anything for my brothers, and I’ve always been there for them, even when their mother wasn’t, no matter how much that affected them.” Sukuna finishes his statement, making a point of dragging down Kaori without being disrespectful in an effort to make a point about Kaori’s disingenuity.

Turning his expectant stare towards Kaori and her lawyer, he keeps his head up and gaze certain. The minute shake in his hands is well-hidden by the determination that keeps him looking at ease.

There was a time where his confidence wouldn’t be so thinly veiled. Shit, if he was testifying on any other subject, he’s sure he would be the picture of confidence itself, unperturbed by the goings on around him. It’s dejecting to know that he’s been reduced to a shadow of his former self by the very same woman who Sukuna knows openly rejected her own children’s calls.

The woman who wouldn’t step up and be a mother to him is now the woman tearing him down through legal means rather than having a conversation.

She’s selfish.

She’s a coward and an asshole and it pisses Sukuna off to no end to know what he’s become because of her. He hardly recognizes himself.

It’s strange. The person he sees in the reflection of the judge’s glasses doesn’t feel like him. He’s accustomed to the dark circles and pale reflection he sees, but the anxiety and doubt that cloud his vision taints his perspective of himself.

Sukuna is confident. He’s sure of himself. He’s brash, bold, and egotistical. He’s a hothead and a bit too quick on the draw to jump to conclusions. He’s smart, cunning, and hard-working, but under all those layers is a man who cares very much about those dear to him.

But the man who stares back at him is scared. In fact, he can’t see any of the qualities that seem to make him Sukuna aside from a set of tattoos that his father sighed at when he saw them.

He considers for a moment your presence behind him as well, and the version of himself he’s trying to be. He strives to be better. For you, for his brothers, and even for himself.

But the real difference between his step-mother and you is that you still want the version of Sukuna you saw before his step-mother tore him to shreds. You still want his confidence, his boldness, even his ego. You like his sharp-tongue and cunning remarks, and you’re willing to work through his emotions with him when he gets a little bit too impetuous for his own good. You’re even willing to help him through the unfamiliar territory that amounts to what he’s become after Kaori’s meddling.

You only ever ask him to treat you with the respect you give him. You want him to be himself, while being conscious of others.

Ms. Harte nods, shooting Sukuna a kind smile of reassurance before falling easily back into her role. “Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Can you provide further information on how you reached out to Ms. Itadori upon your father’s passing?”

Sukuna swallows the lump in his throat at the mention of a time he still can hardly bear to think about without guilt, shame, and grief washing over him. “Yeah. Got her number from Jin’s phone and tried his and my phone to call her, I had lawyers calling and writing, we sent letters from Choso and I, and emails to any contacts I could find.”

“Did your lawyers attempt any other method of contact?”

Sukuna nods. “Yeah, they pulled a-” he pauses, brow furrowing in thought. “A land title, I think, to try to find her new address, but nothing came up.”

Ms. Harte nods. “Thank you. Can you confirm you had no knowledge of Ms. Itadori’s illness prior to this case?”

“I didn’t,” Sukuna gruffs in confirmation, shooting a glare at Kaori as he still doesn’t believe her for a second.

“Can you attest to your connection with the children?”

Sukuna nods slowly. “Choso n’ I have been through a lot and I’ll always be there for him. I taught him how to cook and he wants to be a chef when he grows up, he even wants to take classes when he’s older,” Sukuna explains, inhaling sharply. “I’ve been there for all of Yuji’s firsts. First words, first steps, that was all me. He’s like my own kid n’ I know how to raise him and what he needs just fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Can you speak to your work ethic, please?”

“Mhm,” he hums, taking a moment to mentally reset. “I worked two jobs ‘til I was able to find one that pays well enough for less hours. I did what needed to be done while I got my footing and now I’m stable and spend almost every night with my brothers.”

“Do you believe that having a babysitter affected your ability to care for your brothers?” Ms. Harte queries.

Sukuna’s thankful for this portion of the questioning, as this is all rehearsed. “No. They like their babysitter a lot and I still spend all my free time with ‘em.”

Whether he’s talking about you or the kind woman across the hall you can’t be entirely certain, but you get the feeling it’s you. Even in the midst of the stressful trial, you find a minute smile pulling at the corners of your lips at the thought.

“Can you speak to the matter documented in the case conference last week in which Ms. Itadori states that you lashed out?”

Sukuna shuts his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to keep himself composed. “It’s been an emotional time, I don’t want to lose the kids.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. No further questions,” Ms. Harte nods, bowing to the judge as she takes a seat. With Mr. Cahn taking her place, Sukuna feels a chill run up his spine at his hardened disposition.

“Mr. Sukuna, would you not agree that it’s important for the kids to have a motherly figure in their life?”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “They have lots of good influences in their life other than their mother.”

“Do you believe you’re one of them?”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow slightly as he blows a breath out through his nose. If he weren’t in a courtroom, he’d have choice words for the man in the navy suit. “I do.”

Mr. Cahn presses harder, sensing Sukuna’s mounting frustration. “Would you not consider your nicotine addiction to be a detriment to the children’s health and your ability to uphold a positive influence in their lives?”

It takes everything in him to keep his tone neutral as he replies. “I don’t smoke around the kids.”

Unfortunately, Sukuna doesn’t realize the angle that he gives the man across from him. “So you admit that what Ms. Itadori saw when she intended to visit her children could be a possibility?”

Sukuna’s brow furrows, casting a glance at his lawyer who shoots him a signal to simply tell the truth, whatever he believes that to be. “I usually smoke on the balcony. I don’t like leaving my brothers alone,” he decides after a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Kaori’s lawyer examines his expression as though reading him like a book, moving along. “You claim that you had to teach yourself to cook for them and learn their preferences, were you aware of the needs of children when you became their guardian?”

Sukuna shifts. His patience for this man is on thin ice. As is, he hates that he’s sharing his life with a group of strangers, his step-mother included, but to be grilled over his decisions and abilities is downright insulting. He may be a shadow of his former self, but he’s competent and he won’t let Kaori take that away from him.

“I looked after Choso when my dad was still around, so I knew a bit. I had some growing to do when I took over, but I figured sh- things out,” he replies, crossing his bulky arms over his chest.

“But wouldn’t you agree that their mother is better suited for the position of their guardian? Her ability to care for them is borne into her instincts as a mother.”

“No,” Sukuna replies immediately, his lip curling as he snarls his response. Momentarily forgetting to hold his tongue, he barks angrily, “maybe if she ever reached out or tried to be a mother to them I’d change my mind, but she was gone for four years without a word.”

“Mr. Sukuna,” the bailiff warns in an authoritative voice.

Sukuna shoots the bailiff a sharp glare, physically biting his tongue to prevent himself from speaking out.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’d like to remind you of my client’s illness. She was bedridden for a majority of the years you speak of, unable to even sit up, let alone use a phone. On top of that, she spoke to her husband and Choso weekly at a minimum before Mr. Itadori passed. She attempted to call his phone, but you never picked up.”

Sukuna mutters an inaudible ‘whatever’ under his breath, fixing the lawyer with his harsh stare. Of course he didn’t pick up the unknown numbers calling his dad’s phone while he was grieving. That was the last thing he needed.

Chewing on your lip, you pray Sukuna can keep his frustrations under control. Given Kaori’s urgency to push the trial forward and her statements against his attitude, you can only guess he’s hurting his argument.

“Moving along, how do you balance your full-time position with taking care of the children?”

“I work while they’re in school,” he answers easily.

“And do you make enough to support them with that position alone?”

Sukuna nods slowly, lacking total conviction. “I pick up the occasional shift at an autoshop if I need to, but it’s enough.”

“And would you not agree that this allows you less time to ensure that the children are taken care of and that their needs are met?”

“Their needs,” Sukuna barely keeps his tone neutral, his teeth grit. “Are met. They have a good babysitter who they love. They’re happy.”

Ms. Harte casts a glance up at him, her expression unreadable. The judge may keep a straight face through the conversation, however you can practically see the way he’s passing silent discernment over the burly man each time he struggles to keep himself in check.

“Mr. Sukuna, a house study took place last week, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Detailed in the documents provided to the court,” he gestures towards the broader room, “it mentions that Choso Itadori is not only quiet, but seems as though he’s struggling emotionally. Have you been unable to meet his emotional needs?”

Sukuna swallows hard.

Time after time after time, it always seems to come back to the ways in which Sukuna has failed Choso. As though his own guilt isn’t enough, even those around him seem desperate to choke his failures out of him.

How the fuck is he meant to answer? ‘No, I haven’t been able to’? What good will that do him? How the hell is he intended to deflect the question without lying, the one thing his lawyer drilled into his head over the past couple of months?

Sukuna purses his lips, searching desperately for anything to appease a court. He’d been specifically advised against mentioning you due to your complicated relationship, could he take credit for the ways you’d gotten his little brother to come out of his shell?

Unfortunately for him, Kaori’s lawyer is a vulture waiting to strike. He takes Sukuna’s drawn out silence as his opportunity to address the judge. “Mr. Sukuna does not possess the emotional maturity to provide for such young children. I would like to advise the court to consider Choso Itadori’s mental well-being and struggles when making decisions on their guardianship,” he advises without so much as a stutter.

Kaori’s lawyer takes a pause, staring down Sukuna as the older man feels he’s beginning to wear through Sukuna’s shell.

Clearing his throat, he addresses the judge once more. “While I recognize that Choso’s statement reads that he’s particularly fond of Sukuna’s care, I also want to point out that he’s young and impressionable. He has no frame of reference for any other care and it’s important to take into account the fact that he’s suffering under his current care.”

If he hadn’t already been shushed by the bailiff, Sukuna would have burst. He would have thrown down every way that Kaori failed not only his brothers in the past four years, but all the ways she’d failed him growing up.

He wants to lash out, scream about the school events he only attended to make his dad proud, only for neither of them to show up because she was too busy getting her nails done and forcing Jin to wait. He want to lay out the way she forgot about him at Toji’s place, instead opting to take Choso to a movie, or the way she chose not to attend his high school graduation in favor of a girls’ day with her friends.

It was one of the very last events his father ever got to attend before Sukuna became little more than his father’s personal ambulance as the brutish kid was forced to watch his father deteriorate- alone. Whatever energy Jin could muster was used up on taking care of Choso and Yuji in order to alleviate Sukuna of the duty.

If only Jin could see what had become of his family now.

Sukuna seethes with rage at the thought.

All these years and he’s never once thought to try to get his father’s phone records, bills, anything to prove that Jin wasn’t consistently speaking with Kaori. He’d never considered needing to keep receipts or records that would prove that the woman sitting on the opposite end of the courtroom from him isn’t what she claims.

But now every last detail of their lives is nothing more than hearsay. His word against hers.

It’s the word of an exhausted and scared older brother, against the formal documentation of an overly confident mother and her disgustingly expensive lawyer.

His hands ball into fists at his side as he flashes a snarl at the opposing lawyer. “I’m perfectly capable of providing for them. Including mentally,” he retorts, strained as he finally finds some form of footing.

“Your Honor, I would like to call an additional witness to the stand,” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up as though taking Sukuna’s words as an invitation to speak.

“Objection, Your Honor!” Ms. Harte roars as both her and Sukuna tense. “There were no additional witnesses previously disclosed to my client, we haven’t had the opportunity to prepare.”

Judge Martinez adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Can the counsel for the applying party provide some insight on why this witness was not previously disclosed to the respondent?”

“Your Honor, we were only made aware of concerns of Choso Itadori’s mental health upon receiving the house study, which we received yesterday morning. Upon review, we felt it was necessary to contact Choso’s school for further analysis of his mental health. We only received word back last night that his teacher would be able to testify.”

You can only sit and watch, your mouth agape in horror, as the judge replies. “Objection overruled. Given the short notice, I understand that there was no time to disclose the witness, so I will allow them to testify. I will allow a small break after the testimony to give the respondent time to prepare for the cross-examination.”

Sukuna’s rage may as well manifest in the form of smoke blowing out of his ears with how furious he clearly is. He takes a seat with a drawn out, frustrated sigh as he begrudgingly holds his tongue.

You want to cry out that this is Kaori’s fault to begin with, that Choso wasn’t always like this. You want to shake her by her shirt collar that probably costs more than your entire car and blame her for everything that’s happened to this poor family, but one word from you will surely have you thrown out of the room. The most you can do is shoot Sukuna a reassuring look when he casts a fearful glance at you.

Whether it eases him or not, you can’t tell.

The court is hushed, murmurs between each lawyer and their clients are the only thing that can be heard as the bailiff retrieves the newest witness. You recognize Choso’s teacher, who likely has no real idea what’s going on, and thinks this is what’s best for the little boy, as she makes her way to the side of the opposing party’s table. Her brown hair is done up in curls, her long skirt pleated from where she sat as she awaited her part in the trial.

The bailiff has her introduce herself as Ms. Donovan, Choso’s teacher of several years due to the shifts in the school system, and she takes an oath to tell the truth, before she’s allowed to give her testimony. Mr. Cahn pushes for her to give a broad statement.

She doesn’t seem entirely comfortable in the courtroom setting as she begins. “Choso Itadori has been a part of my class for the past few years, and I currently teach him with a class of twenty three other students. I’ve known him for about five years, and he’s been an absolute pleasure. He’s bright, and he seems to enjoy learning.”

Your heart warms as she praises him, however you dread the ‘but’ that you know comes next.

“However, I’m concerned for his well-being. He got really quiet out of the blue about four years ago, though I’m aware that’s when his father passed away. He came out of his shell bit by bit and began to excel in science and math, and made some good friends, but a couple of months ago, it happened again.”

She adjusts her blouse, sending a sympathetic glance at Sukuna, though he only feels betrayed. Of course, she doesn’t know the mess she’s entered into, but what the hell is he meant to do in response to this? He can only pray his lawyer is as good as Hiromi had mentioned.

No, he knows she’s good. He really needs to pray that the judge didn’t have his mind made up from the beginning. While real trials differ greatly from the scenes he’s accustomed to on television, one thing stands the same between both.

The system is flawed and favors the rich. It favors those with power, and if Sukuna’s being honest, he doesn’t know a damn thing about the capacity of Kaori’s wealth. She always brought money to the relationship with Jin that she worked for, but everything seems different now, and she covered her tracks well. Sukuna hadn’t been able to track down any information on her online despite the status she clearly has.

“I don’t think I’ve heard Choso say a word in the past couple of months,” Ms. Donovan continues. He doesn’t seem to pay attention anymore and his grades are slipping. I know he’s young and he has time, but I’m more concerned for his mental health. On top of that, his attendance was perfect until recently. There have been a couple of weeks this year where he hasn’t shown up at all,” she adds with a frown.

Fuck. That was meant to be a positive break for the kids, and now it’s ammunition against Sukuna’s own case.

“Lastly, Mr. Sukuna has been late to pick them up on multiple occasions. He’s usually only a few minutes late at most, however there was an occasion where he didn’t show up at all.”

“Thank you for addressing your concerns, Ms. Donovan. No further questions.” Kaori’s lawyer takes a seat with an overly pleased look on his face.

The judge leans back in his seat as he addresses the court room. “I’ll allow twenty minutes for discussion and break, before we resume.”

Ms. Harte sighs, running her hands over her face as she faces Sukuna. You can’t hear her words from the viewing area, though you can feel her exasperation.

“That certainly puts a wrench in our argument,” she sighs, tapping the table. “But we still have an angle. Choso’s behavior changed when he became aware of the lawsuit, correct?”

Sukuna, desperate for a break, a cigarette, anything, grunts. “Yeah.”

“Right. We use that, and advise that Kaori’s interference in the childrens’ lives is what’s negatively affecting his health,” she nods, remaining confident. Though Sukuna doesn’t share the same confidence as his mood shifts and fear dwells in the corner of his mind, he agrees with a small nod, putting his faith in her.

You can only shuffle uncomfortably in your seat as Sukuna and Ms. Harte prepare for the cross-examination. Their murmurs are the only sounds filling the silence that clings to your lungs like water, drowning you in uncertainty.

Casting a glance at Kaori, you can’t help but notice the way she confidently crosses her arms over her chest as she discusses details with her own lawyer with a goddamn smile. You wonder if the judge sees through her innocent and sweet grins just as you do, but you fear that hope is misplaced.

Just as you’re sure Ms. Harte and Sukuna suspect something, you can’t help but wonder if there’s manipulation of sorts going on behind the scenes. Everything feels skewed and even if the balance of the court is only off-kilter by a couple of degrees, it’s enough to catch your attention. But what can you do? There’s no way to prove your theory.

While you can understand the judge’s decision to allow an additional witness, something about the whole situation seems to play into the idea that something is wrong and the system is failing before your very eyes.

What’s Kaori’s angle here, anyway? You can understand being sick, but the details don’t add up given what you know about her. But that’s just it, she has an excuse for everything. It’s as though this is nothing more than a routine. Hell, even Ms. Donovan speaks with a practiced air of confidence that makes you wonder if her speech was equally as fake as Kaori’s. Her argument is painfully air-tight.

Is that all this is to Kaori, a game? Are her own children pawns in some scheme you can’t put your finger on? If her love for them is as fake as her love for Sukuna clearly is, then what does she gain out of this?

You can only hope to never be sure as the court returns and the bailiff announces that the hearing is back in session, allowing Sukuna’s counsel to begin the cross-examination.

“Ms. Donovan, good morning,” Ms. Harte stands, greeting the young woman. She returns the lawyer’s greeting with a genuinely sweet smile. “Can you confirm when Choso Itadori’s behaviour took a turn for the worst again?”

Chewing on her lip, the teacher takes a moment to consider the question. “It was early in January. The first week, I believe.”

“Thank you. Can you confirm that the change in his behaviour has been similar to how it was around four years ago?”

The teacher nods. “That’s right.”

“Your Honor, Choso Itadori’s mental health has taken a turn at two pivotal moments in his life. The first is when his father passed away, which coincides with a time where the child thought his mother had chosen not to return. Much like my client, he had no way of knowing his mother was ill,” she points out, pacing somewhat closer to Sukuna. “The first week of January is when Mr. Sukuna informed the children of this trial. He is raising them to be mature and responsible and did not believe that keeping information from them was wise. They’re smart children,” Ms. Harte points out.

Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief at how strong of an argument his lawyer makes in his favor.

“I would like to advise the court to take into consideration how a revelation of that gravity would affect a child. Each time that my client chose to keep the children back from school was in order to preserve their mental health. While school is important and Mr. Sukuna is well-aware of this himself, he puts an emphasis on taking breaks when necessary and teaching the children to manage their mental health.”

Turning to face the judge, Ms. Harte stands confidently in the center of the room.

“Ms. Itadori herself is responsible for Choso’s declining mental health, whether it was her intention or not,” she claims, leaving the possibility open-ended so as not to make accusations she can’t back up. “Mr. Sukuna has proven he is capable of nurturing Choso’s mental well-being, as detailed by Ms. Donovan. She confirmed that the child’s attitude improved over the months following his father’s passing, a time when only Sukuna was present in their lives. My client cares a great deal about the children and would not allow their health to deteriorate without taking the appropriate steps to care for them.” She bows. “No further questions.”

Judge Martinez directs his attention to the applicant party. “Does the counsel have any further questions?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Cahn adjusts his tie as he pushes to his feet. “Ms. Donovan, does the school offer the children any tools to manage their mental health?”

The teacher nods slowly. “We offer a limited range of programs to assist, but Choso hasn’t been receptive to anything.”

“Can you confirm whether the faculty has made any suggestions to Sukuna in order to manage Choso’s mental health?” Mr. Cahn pushes.

With a hum of thought, she clasps her hands as she replies. “When Choso’s grades began slipping, we suggested it may be worth having him evaluated by a mental health professional. I’m not sure if that happened.”

Sukuna stares at his hand as his grip on the arm of his seat tightens. He’d forgotten about that. She had mentioned it, but the thought had burrowed itself into the deep recesses of his mind and quite simply disappeared. He’d had so much on his mind, he’d figured he had time.

Constricting around his lungs, his guilt slices and claws into him once more, dragging the breath from his lungs.

“Thank you. Has Mr. Sukuna ever mentioned his reason for being late on multiple occasions?”

Ms. Donovan shakes her head, shrugging. “I don’t recall, sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Mr. Cahn moves along. “Have you witnessed Mr. Sukuna smoking around the children?”

“On occasion,” she replies without hesitation. “Never on school property, but usually right before class ends.” Sukuna grits his teeth. What bullshit that twenty minutes prior to class ending supposedly counts as smoking around his brothers.

“Thank you,” Kaori’s lawyer nods his head calmly. “One final question.”

“Do you have any reason to believe that Mr. Sukuna could be a negative influence on Choso Itadori?”

Ms. Donovan casts a glance at Sukuna. She seems to consider the question seriously. “I don’t think he’s a driving negative force in Choso’s life,” she replies. Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief a moment too soon as the teacher continues, “however, I think Choso would benefit greatly from more guided care. In the six years that I’ve been teaching, I’ve never seen a child as withdrawn as he’s become, and he shows no signs of improving.”

“Can you describe his behavior?”

Fiddling with her skirt, Ms. Donovan nods. “Of course. Choso seems to look right through everyone, and often when I think he’s paying attention, it’s not until I address him that he seems to tune in to what I’m saying.” She swallows, shaking her head as she continues. “He turns in homework without issue, but any in-class work goes unfinished. His tests don’t have any rhyme or reason behind what he writes or what options he chooses in multiple choice and he doesn’t show his work, either. I don’t think he’s reading the tests at all.”

Sukuna’s brow furrows as his shortcomings are laid bare for him. He knew Choso’s grades were slipping, but the homework he’d been doing seemed fine whenever Sukuna looked it over. Sure, Ms. Donovan had advised him that she’d like to meet, but he’d pushed her worries away given the gravity of the upcoming trial. He’d been under the impression that he would win, and everything would be fixed.

It’s not that he didn’t heed the teacher’s warning that Choso needed help, but he thought he understood what was going on with his little brother. He wasn’t aware just how deep the roots extended into the little boy’s life.

Failure after failure after failure.

How many times would he need to fail Choso before he learned his lesson?

He’s always known school is important, there’s a reason it took Sukuna so long to give up on college, but he didn’t realize just how much Choso’s behavior in school painted a picture of how Sukuna is as a parent.

The room feels claustrophobic as Sukuna continues to listen to the witness.

“At recess, he’s completely closed himself off from the other students. He eats alone in the classroom and won’t respond to me if I try to engage with him in conversation. He’s always been quiet, but he had a good group of friends. They’ve all expressed their worries to me, as well.”

He stopped talking to his friends? Shit, why is Sukuna even surprised? The kid stopped talking to his brothers. Still, his heart drops.

“On a couple of occasions that he did leave the class- which is rare-” she continues, “I caught a couple of children bullying him. I don’t tolerate that, and have punished them appropriately, but this is new as far as I’m aware. His behavior seems to be making him a target for teasing.”

Sukuna’s shoulders drop to his sides as he stares across the room in wide-eyed disbelief. Choso was being…? Why had he never mentioned it?

Of course Sukuna wants to do right by Yuji, but he carries a deep conviction to do right by Choso. The eldest of his little brothers may not look like him, but Choso is a very obvious product of Sukuna’s shortcomings.

He just didn’t realize how obvious.

Sukuna struggles to remember the last time Choso even smiled. His heart twists as the image he conjures in his mind of his little brother is adorned with a frown and eyes that speak of unspoken battles that Sukuna’s incapable of helping him through.

There was a time, so far into the past now that the tattooed man hardly remembers it anymore, where Choso was much closer in personality to Yuji than to Sukuna. He’d always been a bit more on the calm side than his youngest brother, but he was filled with a genuine curiosity for the world, his eyes so filled with light.

He can’t say for sure when that light dulled and eventually flickered out.

Sukuna’s not sure he ever really came to terms with the fact that at the root of this issue, he became a father at eighteen.

A father.

He’s not sure he really understands the meaning behind the term, in truth. He can’t be sure where the line falls between brother and father, unable to clearly define the roles. The brother in him wants to teach the kids bullying his little brother a lesson. The father in him, whatever part of him that is, is lost. What do you do when the kid you’ve raised is being bullied?

What’s Sukuna meant to do? There’s no handbook for this.

Would Kaori know how to deal with this?

Would Jin have known?

He wonders if Jin’s watching this unfold somewhere on the other side. If he’s as torn up about his fractured family as Sukuna is. How would he feel to know his oldest son dropped out of college and has amounted to nothing more than another bill on an expensive lawyer’s docket?

Sukuna’s guilt towards Jin is misplaced, though, when Choso is sitting back at home. He thinks his remorse regarding his mistakes with Choso set in before he ever really realized what role he’d been forced into playing. It lingered deep in the recesses of his mind, back when he still grappled heavily with his grief, but it wasn’t until he’d processed his situation that he realized just how fucked he’d been.

Choso was so young. Sukuna was so young. Eighteen is old enough to legally be a guardian, but not to drink. What kind of sick law is that? To have that responsibility thrust upon him with no other options left Sukuna as a horribly bitter man suffocating from the weight of the pressure. Rather than asking for help, he chose to drown his brother in his sorrows, to bring them both down.

But could you even call it a choice he made when the reality is that they were both just kids?

There’s no guide for this sort of shit. No YouTube videos, no ‘For Dummies’ book.

What would that even be called? ‘How to Become a Father to Your Little Brothers for Dummies’?

How many times would he need to remind himself that he acted so childish back then because he was a child? Hell, sometimes he thinks he still is. The weight of his immaturity bears down on him harshly when he remembers forgetting to pay taxes just a couple of years ago because March and April were never tax season to him.

They were the beginning of skateboarding season, of paint sticking to walls and basketball with Toji.

Only, Toji wasn’t there anymore.

He just forgot to pay.

The worst memory he carries with him from that time is one that keeps him up at night. Worse than when he snapped at Choso when Kaori didn’t reply, and worse than relying on a kid to help him make it through a house study.

He remembers staring at Choso with resentment, seeing only Kaori in his features. He remembers the discussions with lawyers quickly turning into arguments. Choso was always on the sidelines, listening in. Sukuna had no real regard for him at the time, too caught up in his own issues. He recalls yelling about how he didn’t ask for any of the responsibility, he didn’t ask to be looking after his brothers like this.

“I don’t want them, or any of this shit!”

His words echo in his mind, burrowing themselves into his very being like a parasite.

He shuts his eyes briefly. If only Choso could see him now. See how much this really means to Sukuna. Just once, he wants to do right by his little brother. He can’t erase the past, but he can make up for it with a better future. He can show Choso that his misgivings in the past were a product of the misdirected anger of a delinquent child.

Like every other time he’s stumbled through life and learned as he went, he’ll figure things out this time too. He’ll scare off the bullies with a glare as Choso’s brother, and let Choso know to tell him if it happens again as his parent.

He’ll figure it the fuck out.

He faces straight ahead, his face hardened with resolve.

“Ms. Donovan, did you make Mr. Sukuna aware of the bullying?”

She hesitates, casting a glance in his direction. “This development is recent and I haven’t had the opportunity to, no.”

“Would you say it’s safe to assume that Mr. Sukuna isn’t aware of what goes on with Choso at school?”

She hesitates once more, her face falling as she watches Sukuna from her peripherals. “... Yes.”

“Can you confirm whether or not you’ve attempted to get his attention around your concerns with Choso?”

She nods again. “Yes, I have.”

Sukuna’s resolve shatters before it has the chance to flourish. Even Choso’s teacher thinks Sukuna’s failing.

As much as he wants to say he stands on equal footing with Kaori, fear crawls up his spine and grips him by the throat.

Is he losing?

He can’t lose, by all accounts he’s been there, he’s the living and breathing proof of what it means to care for someone. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he’s made, he’s still learning. Maybe he is young, maybe he is inexperienced, maybe Choso needs more help than Sukuna’s been giving him, but he can figure that shit out.

It’s true that Sukuna didn’t ask for this responsibility. He didn’t want it. But he’ll fight for it. He’ll fiercely protect the family he recognizes now as the most important part of his life. The people who each hold pieces of him and make him who he is. Choso, and Yuji. His eyes trail back slowly to you, seated on the edge of your chair.

You look gorgeous. Even with your brow furrowed in concern and fear that mirrors his own, you look flawless. You hold a piece of him, too. A piece that he can’t bear to live without, for fear that he might completely fall apart.

He wants to scream from the top of his lungs that every person here is a damn fool if they believe any of Kaori’s words. He wants to list every single misdemeanor that she did that he could never tell his dad about. Yet, every single time he tries to lead the conversation in the direction that Kaori isn’t all she seems, they have some sort of concrete proof or evidence to say otherwise.

It’s fucked, and all Sukuna can do now is pray to whatever god will listen. His heart is in this and that should be what matters, because Kaori’s isn’t. If it’s obvious to him, it’s obvious to the judge. He has to cast aside his concerns of outside manipulation of the judge, because this is all he has.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

As the bailiff dismisses the final witness, the courtroom becomes deathly silent. It penetrates through Sukuna like a banshee, ringing loudly in his ears. As closing arguments finally begin and Mr. Cahn rises, his words are a blur to Sukuna. His, Ms. Harte’s. They’re all the same, reiterating the points they’ve gone over already and emphasizing the importance of this case. Mr. Cahn makes a point that there’s a reason a rush was placed on this case, as Choso can only be put through so much, but Ms. Harte easily refutes that once this case is over, Choso will find his footing in the world once more.

As Judge Martinez requests a moment to consider his notes before delivering a decision, the silence bears down further on Sukuna from all sides. It threatens to suffocate him, clawing at his insides as the taste of iron floods his mouth when he bites down on his tongue a bit too hard.

He’s kept his fears so well-masked over the course of the past hour that his body seems to burst as he feels his hands physically shivering in his lap. It’s not cold in the room, if anything the sweat rolling down his jaw from his temple should spell out just how warm the room really is. 

He’d spent so many days preparing for this moment, so many hours on the phone with telecommunications companies for phone logs, putting in extra work to get letters from his employers, and pulling files out from the darkest depths of closets to prove anything.

Had this been a couple of years ago, he’s not even sure if he could have managed to get the files. Not because he wouldn’t have cared or wanted to, but because the sight of his father’s obituary tucked among all his bills would have sent Sukuna spiralling. He’s come so far over the past few years, he can’t let it be for nothing.

How had it come to this, in the first place?

When would karma come for Kaori like it had so often haunted Sukuna?

His attention snaps to the judge as the man addresses the room again. “I have carefully read through all of the provided evidence. After considering this and the testimonies from witnesses of both parties, I have reached a decision that I believe is in the best interest of the children and their mental well-being.”

Their mental well-being? Sukuna’s heart drops. No.

“I would like to start by acknowledging how much love is clearly being put on display for these children. I can very clearly see that both parties care greatly for them. My greatest consideration today will be to ensure the long-standing welfare of the children and ensure they have what they need in order to flourish int he future.”

On the edge of his seat, Sukuna clings to the table with white knuckles. This can’t happen. He has to interrupt.

“With that in mind, the decision I have made today is one that I feel will allow the children to heal from any prior transgressions. Concerns on both sides have been noted, and I believe both parties today will be able to understand where my decision is coming from.”

Sukuna’s gaze whips towards Ms. Harte, whose expression is grave. She knows too. He has to say something. He has to-

“The applicant, as the biological mother of Choso and Yuji Itadori will be granted sole guardianship. While I understand the applicant placed a rush on this trial, I do not believe that Mr. Sukuna places the children in any immediate danger and as both their half-brother and prior guardian, he will retain visitation rights. To allow the children a safe and easy transition, this will be effective as of Monday next week.”

“No! She doesn’t fucking care!” Sukuna barks in a desperate plea, losing control as he finally stands.

The bailiff stands immediately. “Mr. Sukuna! Order, please,” she requests, matching his fervor with confidence.

With venomous intent, he opens his mouth, but Ms. Harte places a hand on his forearm to catch his attention. “Please sit, Sukuna. I’ll work through this with you.”

Surely she has cause for a retrial or an appeal or something, right? He has to put his belief in her and her abilities right now, because it might damn be all he has left.

As he takes a seat, his vision closes in on him. White from all edges, he shuts his eyes and rubs harshly at them. The ringing in his ears is overbearing, his throat closing up on him as he struggles to sit still.

The trial continues on without him as Ms. Harte makes decisions on his behalf for the handover of the children on Monday morning. Sukuna can’t make out a single word being said. It’s nothing more than jumbled and broken letters, gibberish in his mind.

He feared this outcome so heavily, yet it never seemed like it could be a possibility. What happened here that Kaori had gotten away with so much deception? Where had these supposed hospital records come from?

What kind of dumbass is this judge? Did Kaori pay him?

On paper, the case was always tough, but the more evidence he pulled up, the more it leaned in his favor. Yet with each piece of evidence he compiled, Kaori had something up her sleeve to throw the balance off.

Would he spend a lifetime wondering what went wrong?

Kaori would never let him visit no matter his rights, would he not see Choso for six years? Would it be thirteen years before he sees Yuji again? Surely not, his lawyer has to figure something out. He’ll drain every penny he has to make it happen. He can’t let this happen.

He can’t fail Choso again.

And yet, he already has.

You sniffle from behind Sukuna, though he doesn’t move, he doesn’t seem to hear it. You want just as badly as he surely does to reverse the decision, to fight more, fight harder if you can, but it’s to no avail. You’re at a complete and utter loss. Your head feels horribly light as the decision truly sets in.

The bailiff adjourns the court, advising an exit of the room.

Wiping tears from your eyes and inhaling sharply, you cling tightly to the bracelets that round your wrist, forced to watch in horror as Sukuna stands abruptly, stumbling out of his chair with the scraping of wood across the floor. He clutches at his chest, anger ablaze in his eyes as he slams out the door while Ms. Harte attempts to reach out to him.

Your lips part as you call after Sukuna as well, but he’s gone before it ever reaches him. Whether he’s going to throw his unsuspecting lighter into another wall or to gasp for air out in the cool morning, you can’t say for sure, but one thing’s for certain.

It took Kaori only one hour and twenty four minutes to rip whatever remained of your dear friend to pieces.

Another tear rolls down your cheek and you find yourself choking back a sob as you hide your face on the way out.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; forgive me :')

trust, i promise this series will have a happy ending <33 i'm a sucker for angst though and you guys are subject to my whims 🙂‍↕️ LMAO anyway regardless of the angst and devastation, i really hope everyone is still enjoying the series! ty all for sticking with me, there's still much more to come! i never could have anticipated how long this series would be but i'm super grateful to be able to share it with you all

shoutout again to all the lovely and amazing people who helped me with the legal drama as well, it's been a huge help! if you see any legal process errors, no you didn't ;)

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[shikaizer]

no hands. paigebueckers x reader

after constantly begging paige to let you be on top, she finally lets you, but she still made sure shes in control.

strap on. smut.

you’d been teasing paige about it for weeks “just once” you’d whisper against her lips “let me ride you.”

she’d always chuckle, brushing her fingers along your jaw “you say that like you’d be in control baby” she would hate the idea of you riding her, she hated that you would take control.

and every time, you’d pout, not just for show, but because the idea of being on top, taking the lead for once, stirred something deep inside you.

tonight, she gave in her eyes held that familiar fire, but her voice was soft when she laid back against the pillows “go ahead, then. show me what you got.”

your fingers trembled slightly as you straddled her hips, guided by the silicone curve of her strap, anchored to her with her favorite harness, the air between you was charged.

you lowered yourself onto her slowly, savoring the stretch, the way her eyes locked onto yours watching, reading every little gasp and twitch.

you set the pace, rocking your hips with tentative confidence, feeling yourself open up, heat building.

but paige wasn’t one to give up control entirely, she began to move beneath you, her hips thrusting up just enough to remind you she was still part of it, her hands found your thighs, gripping, grounding you.

“doing so good....” she murmured, voice low and hot against your neck as she sat up, her body pressing close to yours, making you feel her in every place possible “but dont think for a second im not still in charge”

you gasped, nails digging into her shoulders, lost in the rhythm in her, in the way you both gave and took, melted and collided.

maybe she let you ride her tonight, but paige still made sure you knew whos in control.

her hands slide up your sides, firm and possessive, then settle at your waist like she owns you, because in this moment, she absolutely does.

you try to keep the rhythm, keep riding her like you begged to, but she shifts her hips under you with purpose, a slow, deep thrust that punches the breath out of your lungs, then another, and another.

your on top, but its her pace “thought you wanted to be in control, baby” she teases, voice thick with lust and that unshakable confidence she wears like a second skin “but look at you,already falling apart.”

You try to protest some soft, desperate sound that might been her name, but her hips roll up again, catching you right where you need it, the strap hits that perfect spot inside, and your thighs shake from the intensity of it.

paige smirks, tilting her head as she watches you unravel “that feel good? you gonna come like this, huh? while I do all the work?”

your clinging to her now, arms around her neck, forehead against hers, your breath ragged, her pace picks up just enough, not rough, not fast, but intentional..

her fingers dig into your ass, holding you down as she thrusts up again, harder this time, you cry out, your body grinding down helplessly to meet her, she groans low in your ear, her breath hot.

“go on, ride me” she murmurs “but dont forget whos making you come.” and when it hits you sharp and overwhelming shes right there to hold you through it.

one arm around your waist, the other sliding up your back as she rocks you through the aftershocks, lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder.

paige doesnt need to be on top to be in control,and you wouldnt have it any other way.

masterlist.

🔖 — @addl0vee @tndaqlwifwy @mrsarnold @melpthatsme @bellaprintz25 @janaelalfysblunt @ellehoops @belsoulss @apbueckers @uwupaige @janaelalfysloml @paige05bby @azzisbueckers @paigeluvvr @giavonnii @taylynbueckers44 @jupitermoonbaby @shootingstarrrrr @dalilahissilly @luldejamleer @d7dream @gabbyygoo @bravemode

[vettelsvee]

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO + MAX VERSTAPPEN PLS

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO | Max Verstappen

⋆ PAIRING: Max Verstappen x Ex girlfriend actress Female!Reader ⋆ SUMMARY: After breaking up with Max, your boyfriend of three years, you decide to move forward and show people that you weren't the villain of your story ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it anon 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT ⋆ WARNINGS: Curse words ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2574 ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: Does university have me mentally draining? Yes. Did my doctor tell me to take a break since I'm on lots of medication and I didn't listen? Also yes ✨ Anyways, hope you like this one, and remember that I'd love to read your comments and feedback, and that reblogs are very much appreciated as well! Thank you so much, and enjoy your reading! <3 ↳ TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | CITY OF STARS F1 AU

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The worst part of the breakup wasn’t losing Max.

It was losing yourself.

Despite being a world-renowned actress with a thriving career long before you started dating the Dutchman, the last three years of your life had revolved around him. 

You weren’t just one of the most admired couples in the paddock, you were also Hollywood’s golden pair. The actress and the Formula 1 world champion, unstoppable together. Rumors of weddings and pregnancies swirled around your seemingly perfect (at least in the public eye) love story.

So when everything ended abruptly, without explanation from either of you to everyone, the world needed a villain.

The headlines spoke for themselves:

"Y/N Y/L/N DUMPS MAX VERSTAPPEN AFTER USING HIM FOR FAME" "DID Y/L/N EVER LOVE VERSTAPPEN?" "FORMULA 1’S GOLDEN BOY, BETRAYED"

The comments from people who once admired you were even worse. If the insults were harsh, the death threats were unbearable. Demands flooded in for you to issue a public apology for a “crime” you hadn’t committed, for nothing more than just a breakup that Max himself had initiated to focus on his career, as he told you and excused himself with. Every interview you gave was twisted, your words manipulated. And instead of staying silent, like your words, the press loudly proclaimed that you were the reason Verstappen's performance had declined last season.

Max knew about it all. After all, he’d been asked about it countless times during press conferences. Reporters bombarded him with headlines starring you both, turning your private lives into international gossip. Yet, all he did was smile politely and dismiss the questions as if they were mere inconveniences.

You had expected at least a call from him to find some way to put an end to it all. But when he never reached out, you decided to call him yourself. All you got was a voicemail telling you to try again later. And when you did, again and again, he ended up blocking your number, showing you how things actually were between you both.

You never got an answer. You never found out why he decided to ignore how the world was painting the woman he had supposedly loved.

That’s when you decided to stop waiting for an answer, a real and proper explanation. 

If they wanted a villain, you’d give them one.

You didn’t just delete your social media and vanish from the public eye, you also returned to the industry in full force, accepting a lead role in a film after years of turning projects down just to support Max race after race. A psychological thriller that intrigued you from the moment you read the script, because the character felt too familiar and close. A woman scorned, reborn from the ashes of her own destruction.

“She gave them everything, and now she’ll take it all back.”

That one line was enough to fuel your performance, turning it into a masterclass in acting. Your director praised you endlessly, your co-stars were in awe, and even the producers—one of whom had once been a key sponsor of Max—were captivated. You convinced them to join the project though you weren’t really sure if they ended up doing so out of pity or as a subtle jab at the driver who had severed ties with them at the peak of his career. 

Either way, the message was clear: a middle finger to the boy in a narrative where you were only ever relevant because of him.

Then came your real return to the public eye. Your rebirth.

The docile girl who once stayed quiet, who barely spoke to the press, who even put her acting career on hold. The girl who lived in Max Verstappen’s shadow, was gone.

Your first public appearance, where you began promoting the film that would mark your resurgence, was at the Cannes Film Festival. You walked the red carpet with a confidence you hadn't felt in years, perhaps ever. The camera flashes were relentless, but you smiled because you knew exactly what they had expected to see: a broken, shattered woman.

Instead, your thirst for revenge made sure you left an impression, one so striking that it became the talk of the town for days.

“Y/N Y/L/N: UNBOTHERED QUEEN OR A POISONOUS SNAKE?”

You couldn't help but smirk when you read the article. In fact, you couldn’t resist making it your first Instagram post in that new era.

“Let them talk,” you thought. Because in a few weeks, everything would become even more interesting.

You had known you’d see Max again the moment you received an invitation to a TAG Heuer event as part of your film’s promotion. Your agent had tried to find a way to decline, suggesting excuses convincing enough to avoid the inevitable encounter.

Your answer?

You told her to find the best designer in the industry to create a dress dripping in subtle, unmistakable messages. A dress that would make it clear just how much you had moved on.

And so, in the heart of Monaco, in a lavish mansion hosting the exclusive party, you finally saw him again.

To no one’s surprise, he was wearing the same suit he always chose for events like this. His hair was styled, though slightly tousled because you knew he hated looking too put-together. A champagne flute rested in his hand as he moved through the room, making conversation with the other guests, effortless as ever.

Then, just as he finished speaking with his team principal, Christian Horner, and his wife, he turned.

And his eyes met yours.

415 days.

That’s how long it had been since the last time he looked at you.

You couldn’t lie, it hit you like a punch to the gut. A searing, burning weight in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Especially when he began walking toward you slowly, deliberately.

And when you saw the flicker of emotion in his gaze, when you felt the sting of tears threatening your own eyes, you reminded yourself why you were there.

You thought of every headline they had written about you. The way the media had twisted your story, painted you as something you weren’t. The way your reputation had plummeted overnight, forcing you to rebuild yourself into someone new, someone unbreakable.

Most of all, you thought about the moment Max chose to cut you out of his life completely when all you ever wanted was just an explanation for the breakup.

Just for him to care enough to silence the world that had made your life a living hell.

That was the moment you realized you were ready to see Max again.

He, however, wasn’t ready to see you.

“Y/N. Long time no see.”

He stood in front of you, avoiding your gaze. His voice was rough, uncertain.

“Max,” you murmured, taking a sip of your champagne, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on your lips. “It’s been a while.”

He didn’t answer, and you didn’t bother to say anything else. Instead, you turned toward the balcony just a few steps away, where the view stretched across most of the principality. The city lights shimmered before you, captivating you, reminding you that this place had once been your safe haven, your refuge… The setting of dreams that never became reality, of a life you once envisioned but that crumbled before it could ever be built.

You tensed at the sound of footsteps behind you, but you didn’t turn around.

You knew it was Max. And you also knew you should have left. Should have walked away, let him drown in his guilt, let the weight of regret eat away at him.

But instead, you drank the last sip of champagne, carelessly let the empty glass slip from your fingers, watching as it shattered into tiny shards against the floor, then turned to face him.

“Are you just going to stand there looking at me like I’m the best thing you’ve ever seen in your fucking life, or are you going to say something that makes sense for once?”

He inhaled sharply. You knew you had hit where it hurt the most: his pride.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was low, but his frustration was unmistakable. “To play the vengeful ex? To prove something? To prove something to yourself?”

You let his words settle, rolling them over in your mind, searching for a reply that would cut just as deep.

“Prove something? To someone? To myself?” You tilted your head back and let out a hollow laugh. “That’s funny, Max, because I don’t think I’ve ever needed to prove anything to anyone, including you. Tell me, have I ever needed to prove anything to you?”

Yes, that you loved him with everything you had. And where had that gotten you?

“You’ve turned this into a game, into some kind of performance,” he said coldly, his blue eyes cutting into you like daggers.

“If you want to say so…” you smirked, voice laced with mockery, "Honestly, I wouldn't mind being the actress starring in your bad dreams but, between you and I… I think I already am."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. Max, however, wasn’t laughing. His irritation was growing, his anger simmering beneath the surface, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of unease at the way he was looking at you, clouded with something dark, something dangerous.

“A game? Seriously, Max?” You spoke again, stepping closer, fingers playing with the fabric of his tie. “Tell me, who was the one who started this game? Was it me, when I heard you say you wanted to focus on your career instead of a relationship? Was it your fans, when they decided I was the villain in our story? Was it when they painted me as the ruthless bitch who left you the moment I got the fame I wanted? Or was it when you stayed silent, letting them believe it, knowing damn well it was all a lie?”

Max flinched. He knew you were right, but his pride, his damn pride, kept him from admitting it.

“I never—”

“Oh, cut the bullshit,” you cut him off, turning away before spinning back to face him. “You never defended me. You let them say whatever the hell they wanted. You let them tear me apart while you laughed at their comments, dodged their questions… feeding into the rumors you knew weren’t true.”

“It wasn’t that simple—”

“No, Max, it really was that simple,” you shot back, raising your voice. “It was as simple as telling the truth. Or saying something, anything, really. Even a lie would’ve been better than leaving me to burn the way you did. You let them think I used you, that I never loved you, that I walked away without a second thought.”

“You did walk away, don’t act like you didn’t—”

You froze. You had heard that accusation before, over and over. But the way he said it now, the coldness in his tone, it was what finally made you snap.

“What the hell was I supposed to do, Max? Follow you around like some desperate puppy after you told me you wanted to focus on your career?” you shouted, not caring who might hear. “Stay with you while every headline called me a gold-digging whore? Let strangers tell me and truly believe that, if I had a career, it was only because of you?”

Your breath was coming faster now, your chest tightening with an anxiety you hadn’t felt in a long time, and you didn’t miss.

“Do you even know what it’s like, Max? To have your entire existence reduced to being someone’s girlfriend and the main character of a series of meaningless scandals?”

Max said nothing.

“You never had to explain yourself, Max. Never. If you won races, they praised you. If you lost, they still worshiped you. If you got into fights or disappeared for weeks, you were still Red Bull’s golden boy, still the one everyone adored. But me?” You shook your head, laughing bitterly. “I had to justify my own success… the success I had built long before you and I were ever a thing.”

“I never wanted that for you—”

“And yet, you let it happen.” Your voice softened, a hint of something almost like pity creeping in. “You let them destroy me just to keep yourself clean. I don’t know if it was your idea, your dad’s, or your PR team’s, and honestly, I don’t even care anymore. I don’t wish the same on you, Max, I really don’t… but I do wish you’d had to live through it, even just for a second, so you’d understand.”

“I…”

Max dragged a hand through his hair, restless. His eyes darted around, unable to meet yours, his whole body tense with unspoken words. And despite everything, despite all the pain, you knew one thing for certain: at the end of your reputation, you were truly feeling alive.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he finally admitted. “I didn’t know how to fix it. How to make it stop—”

“That’s the thing, Max,” you murmured, tilting your head. “You never had to fix anything. You just had to stand by me.”

The weight of those words settled between you both, heavy and inescapable.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You simply stood there, staring at each other, reliving every second, every memory, every moment you once thought would last forever.

Max thought about how much he wanted to go back to those moments. You simply smiled to yourself, knowing you had walked away from the person who had broken every single promise to protect you.

“Did you ever love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. A lump formed in your throat.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to remember everything…

The way you looked at him, and he at you, as if nothing else in the world existed. 

The way he held you in his arms every night before bed, only to do it again as you both drifted off to sleep.

The way you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, in front of everyone, after he won a race, a championship, feeling as if the world around you had vanished.

A year ago, even a few months ago, that question would have been easy to answer. But now?

You remembered how lonely you felt when the world turned against you. How Max seemed to disappear from the face of the earth, only to reappear on TV, in Formula 1, no longer as your ex-boyfriend but as a public figure you had once idolized enough to believe you belonged by his side.

“I don’t think that matters anymore.”

You didn’t say anything else. Wrapping your arms around yourself, seeking comfort, reassurance, trying to convince yourself you were doing the right thing.

"Goodbye, Max."

For the first time, as you walked away from Max Verstappen, you didn’t look back.

He felt lost. For the first time, he truly understood that he had lost the love of his life and regretted not doing anything to stop it.

But you? You simply smiled and kept walking, head held high, feeling better than ever because this time, for the first time ever, you had won.

And also, for the first time ever, you weren’t going to apologize for winning.

If you like my content, and would like to support me, you can do it here <3 Thank you so much for reading until the very end! <3

[hello-nichya-here]

Think I finally managed to understand why Azula not getting a redemption arc works in the show, but not in the comics (beyond the absurd ableism in the Yang stories that is).

Azula has become the classic case of a villain that keeps being brought back due to popularity despite clearly not belonging in the story anymore.

Her arc as a villain was completed in the show. She's been the backstabber, the relentless pursuer, and the cunning villain that wins through mindgames. She's been in charge, been under someone else's rule, joined forces with another villain, and had her enemies join forces against her.

She's been the villain that wins people through manipulation and/or charisma, or that full on threatens them into submission. She had henchmen that she used and threw away, and henchmen she cared about and was abandoned by. She was arrogant and power hungry, but also desperate for validation. She was the main villain's adored, loyal pet that was eventually kicked aside in the end.

She's been the lesser of two evils when compared to Ozai, and the worse of multiple evils when compared to Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee. She's been the villain that gets back up after a defeat post The Drill, the villain that wins (by corrupting one of the potential heroes, capturing a friend of the protagonist and KILLING said protagonist) in the Ba Sing Se arc, the villain that has both a satisfying AND tragic downfall in Boiling Rock and the finale, and the villain with hints of humanity that she refuses to embrace in The Headband, The Beach and the finale.

She had conflicts with people she had zero personal history with (Aang, Long Feng) leading to both physical and mental battles, and people she had a messy history with (her friends and Zuko) leading to super emotional scenes.

And finally, she's been the cold, calculating villain AND the villain that is a complete wreck mentally/emotionally - that last one only lasting for the finale because Azula's breakdown was not the CAUSE of her evil actions, it was the consequence of it. And said consequence made her be both the villain that is defeated by the heroes and the one that causes her own downfall.

Every single fucking thing that could have been done with her as villain has been done in the show already. Even Spirit Temple, the only comic that understood her character, couldn't do much beyond just repeat stuff we're already seen.

Azula refusing to accept anything she considers weakness or imperfection? We've see that in nearly every scene she was in.

Azula leading an evil squad? Literally what she did for 90% of her screentime on the show.

Azula losing said squad and refusing to take responsibility for it? Literally the Mai and Ty Lee arc, hence the two haunting her mind in that same comic. Only this time it happened MUCH faster because Azula no longer has all the political power she once had, so there's less consequences for crossing, so she's not as threatening to ANYONE.

Azula being pathetic and making a fool out of herself? The Beach exists.

Azula being obsessive to the point that it's almost laughable? Again, 90% of her screentime.

Azula having issues with her mom, desperately wanting love from her family, friends and a potential boyfriend? Again, The Beach exists and so does the finale.

The scene of her being confronted with a hallucination of an angry Zuko and shooting lightning at him? Literally a direct reference to the Last Agni Kai, which was the culmination of both of their arcs.

The ONLY thing that was new in that comic was the short moment in which Azula shows resentment towards her father for turning her into a copy of him, and that wasn't explored further not just because it's a stand-alone comic, but also because doing so would open the can of worms that is "Wait, if she's self-aware and processing trauma, that means she could learn her lesson and change" and since the writers clearly don't wanna go there, the scene is useless.

If the writers insist on keeping Azula an active threat in the story, they're setting themselves up for failure. Either they're gonna keep repeating storylines we've already seen with far less tension and with a villain that got a severe downgrade, essentially making Azula the Tom to their Jerry, or they're gonna pull a Yang and go "Make her crazier to make her scary again!" while ignoring that her days as a villain were cut BECAUSE she went insane, and now that here vil plans make no fucking sense anymore, the heroes just look stupid for not being able to defeat her.

Azula has nothing more to give to the story in the role of a villain, so she should either only appear in flashbacks or quick mentions of "she's being cared for, but it seems it's too little too late", or she should be redeemed to get a new role in the story, with new paths to explore. She just can't keep being put into the role of active threat, when we've all seen said threat was clearly neutralized already.

It. Does. Not. Work.

[applecidersturniolo]

in the elevator?

( nerve au.)

in which..biker!chris and stoner!reader do their first dare together..

you and chris stood in front of the store, the place looked expensive as hell, the type of building rich people bathed in.

chris had his phone clutched in his hand as he waited for the dare to come through.

steal a full outfit.

REWARD MAY VARY.

do you accept or decline this dare.

your eyebrows knitted as you looked over chris’ shoulder, your eyes flickering from his face back to his phone. “fuck does that mean? reward may vary” you questioned

chris licked his lips, “think it means that..whatever the outfit total is..that’s how much money we get” chris was processing his own words while he spoke, a smirk slowly spreads across his face, “you thinkin’ what i’m thinkin’, stoner?”

you smirked right back at him, “let’s ball out, biker.”

ACCEPT

you sucked in a breath as the two of you walked through the glass door, “jus’ follow my lead.” chris spoke walking in front of you, his phone stuffed in his back pocket, live streaming the whole thing.

“how may i help you two today?” the worker greeted, you gave the lady a soft smile, but god, she wasn’t impressed. it was evident that you and chris didn’t belong here but you had to push through, make her believe you belong.

“my uh..” chris glanced at you from behind his shoulder before turning back to the lady, “my girlfriend and i are going to a party tonight..we just need you to point us to the right section”

you could’ve choked on your spit right then and there, girlfriend?

the woman turned to look at you, looking at you up and down, before she had a moment to question chris slipped his hand around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

the woman cleared her throat, “right this way.”

your eyes flickered through the racks, $1000, $2000, $3000..all for some thin dresses that would barley cover your ass.

“find anythin’ yet?” chris questioned from behind you. you turned your head to see him adjusting his tie. he wore a black suit, a white button up, a long black tie, sleek black shoes, and if being fine was an accessory..he was wearing the most expensive version of it.

chris took in your features with a grin, “see sum you like, ma?” he teased

you put your tongue in your cheek and shrugged, “maybe i do.”

chris stepped closer to you, his eyes roaming through the racks along with you, “what ‘bout this one?” he spoke picking up the long black dress, a slit down the side, spaghetti straps, it was gorgeous. your hands made its way to the price tag, $1500.

chris smirked, “not like you gotta pay f’it,” his comment made you grin, you looked up at him, “c’mon. jus’ try it on.” he spoke shaking the hook in your face. you rolled your eyes and grabbed the fabric by the hanger and made your way to the dressing room. as you closed the curtain you could see chris’ feet on the opposite side, “what size shoe are you?” he questioned, “seven” you respond with a hum. chris nodded and made his way over to the shoe rack.

chris pulled out his phone and showed the livestream the shoe rack, the views and comments were going insane.

“a’ight, what shoes should i get her?” chris asked the watchers

def the steve maddens

nah those are too cheap^^

RED BOTTOMS

red bottoms!!

RED BOTTOMS‼️‼️

chris chuckled and grabbed the red bottomed heels, “red bottoms it is.” he huffed.

“sorry guys, can’t get caught” he muttered before shoving his phone back in his pocket, the live continued. he knew they had to speed things up before workers caught on and before it was too late to complete the dare. clocks were ticking.

chris made his way back over to the dressing room and slipped inside, his hand covering his eyes, causing you to gasp at his sudden entrance.

“chris what the-“ then you noticed the way he covered his eyes, the shoes in his hands. you quickly grabbed the shoes. “you can look, ‘m not naked” you chuckled as you sat on the bench. chris uncovered his eyes and blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light. adjusting to you, the way you looked in that dress, how it fit like it was meant for you, defining every curve.

you looked up at chris and chuckled, “see sum you like?” you mocked, “maybe i do.” he mocked back

chris noticed the way you fiddled with the straps of the heels, “lemme get it,” he offered, bending down on one knee, placing your foot on his thigh as he clasped the strap.

your breathing hitched at the sight, “uh..t-thanks” you muttered as he switched your feet to clasp the left one.

“don’t get all jittery on me now” chris smirked as he patted your leg, signaling you to move it before he stood up.

chris looked at his watch, “we gotta go,” he huffed, grabbing your hand, “chris my clothes-“

“leave ‘em” he muttered while basically dragging you out of the dressing room. chris pulled out his phone and faced the camera towards the two of you as you guys basically ran through the store, “dare comp-“

“HEY! that’s the nerve guy!” a teenager shouted, everyone’s heads seemed to turn in the store. the lady that greeted you guys earlier? yeah she was basically running at you like she was a D1 athlete. chris grabbed your hand and pulled you as you guys sprinted out of the store. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” you repeated.

“elevator, where the fuck is an elevator!” chris muttered, you turn your head, the worker still trailing behind you guys.

before you could turn your head chris grabbed your waist as you guys made a sharp right turn, throwing you guys into an open elevator.

your back hit the wall as chris repeatedly hit the close button. just as the blonde woman was about to stomp in the silver doors closed. a sigh of relief escaped the two of you as you tilted your head against the wall. chris pulled out his phone, he got yet another notification from nerve.

now strip.

do you accept or decline this dare.

REWARD: 700 DOLLARS EACH.

chris’ eyes widened. “what is it?” you muttered, your eyes locked with his as he turned his phone to face you.

“strip?” you repeated, your mouth gapped open, “in the elevator?”

chris slowly nodded, he bit his lip, his thumb hovering over the decline button.

“no.” you intrupped, “accept it.”

accept.

“this is fucked, this is so fucked.” you muttered as chris unzipped the back of your dress. his clothes already pooled at the floor of the elevator, leaving him in his underwear and socks. you felt the dress fall to your ankles, leaving you in your black lacey set. “lace huh?” chris smirked, “oh shut up” you whined and your arms crossed over your chest.

chris was about the say something before the elevator doors open, leaving you two studded, face to face with a elderly couple, the two of you practically naked. “hi.” the two of you awkwardly say in unison as you scrambled, picking up your articles of clothing and rushing out of the elevator.

as you ran you..you couldn’t stop laughing. “fuck are you laughing at? we are gonna get charged with like..public indecency or something” chris spoke whipping his head around to find a bathroom. “you don’t feel that?” you muttered as you glanced at him, “feel what!?” he exclaimed. “the rush.”

the two of you stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in head to toe stolen apparel.

you glanced at chris, who had the biggest, cockiest grin on his face, “what?” you spoke raising an eyebrow.

chris turned his phone, the bright screen facing you.

DARES COMPLETED.

$4000 NOW IN EACH NERVE ACCOUNT

divider creds: @bernardsbendystraws

TAGS: @sosasturns @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @sturnboos @angelic-sturniolos111 @babytomatoes21 @deadxrx @owenstar @obsessedwiththesturniolos

[azdoine]

John is hiding two Resurrection Beasts, not just one.

This was originally going to be a much longer and fancier argument, but I don’t have it in me to dress it up properly, so I’ll just pepe silvia this out

What impact does a Resurrection Beast actually have from within the River?

Answer: an apocalyptic and defining one.

I think we’re all on the same page at this point that Tamsyn Muir loves Foreshadowing Literally Every Plot Twist From As Early On As Is Physically Possible, so for posterity, here’s what Palamedes and Harrow first have to say about the River Bubble phenomenon in HTN:

“You cannot build in the River! It is a dimension of perpetual flux—defined space is nonsense here—you might as well try to wall off time with bricks and mortar.” “Yes. Sort of. But by our very presence in the River, we briefly exert space on non-space. Think of how, when you blow air into water, you make bubbles. The water can’t be where the air is. It’s like the air temporarily enforces its own rules over a localised area.” -HTN ch. 33

The given impossibility of carving lasting form into the River seemingly leads directly into some of the biggest open questions as of the end of NTN - i.e., what is the Tower, how is it related to John’s cosmic imperium, and how has it enabled him to wall off time with stone and mortar after all?

However, this is misdirection. While the River Bubbles created by the presence of Palamedes and Harrow clearly remain fleeting and unstable, NTN explicitly shows us the existence of entities capable of pushing back against the River with far more force.

Pyrrha said, “This is impossible. We should be flayed alive,” and Paul said, “Yeah.” Nona tried to explain. “The water doesn’t want to touch us, that’s all.” Crown was saying urgently, “Judith—stop, come back,” and Nona vaguely heard unbuckling; and then shadows fell over her, people standing behind her seat. The Captain’s voice was like old teeth. “He left them too long—you left them too long, my salt thing.” “You are here,” said Nona, finding talking was hard, that her voice sounded drowsy in her own ears. “Okay, good—the water really won’t touch us. I was worried about our back end [of our truck].” -NTN ch. 30

The possessed bodies of Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Judith Deuteros - both of whom now carry the spiritual influence of Resurrection Beasts in whole or in part - actively function to repel the waters of the River such that Nona worries about min-maxing the coverage of their reality fields. If a human’s presence exerts some space on non-space, the presence of a Resurrection Beast supercavitates against the water.

Kiriona is also extremely explicit that the Tower serves much the same cavitation-function in the space of the River, ameliorating the existence-sapping pull of the waters:

“The ride?” said Palamedes. “Wait. You mean you both dropped through the River? In that shuttle?” “Can’t be,” said Pyrrha, who was watching the Prince narrowly. “Not anymore. You’ve got a soul attached to you, kid … or part of one, at least. John would have had to go with you to stop it being stripped bare.” The corpse prince tilted her head to one side, like a curious bird. “You haven’t been in the River lately, have you?” she said. “What’s that meant to mean?” “Guess you’ll find out at some point,” said the Prince. -NTN ch. 25

Pyrrha sucked in her breath, and she said: “What the fuck is that?” “Told you so,” said Kiriona Gaia. As the megatruck spun around, the wide rippling grey waters resolved into something totally different. There was a big structure standing up out of the River—that water was the River, after all—a tall, cold cylinder of what was unmistakably stone. -NTN ch. 30

In other words, we don’t need to postulate a new category of power to explain the Tower: we can be fairly certain that it’s one of the world-body-layers of an as-yet-unidentified Resurrection Beast, for whom an anatomy shaped like a heaven-piercing tower would make it no more alien than the rest of its peers.

That being said, it’s not a difficult guess at this point to match the anatomy inside the River with the outward-facing creature in physical reality - the Tower’s aesthetics are strongly reminiscent of John the half-RB and his literary cant, but John has been active for ten thousand years, and there’s only one Resurrection Beast who starts waking up at the same time as the Tower rises.

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,    In her sepulchre there by the sea—    In her tomb by the sounding sea. -Annabel Lee

He said, I didn’t stick my thumb in my mouth. Had more sense than that. Fuck knows what would’ve happened if I tried to absorb you all the way; I probably would’ve burnt to death. But I needed a house to put you in, if I wasn’t going to put all of you in me… He said, From my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done. -John 1:20 (NTN)

Before I get to the question of the relationship between the Tower and the Devils, I want to emphasize the significance of this explanatory stance: the Tower’s existence, as a lynchpin nailed through the unreality of the River, is no different from the influence that Palamedes and Harrow are able to exert in their respective River bubbles.

That is, the Tower is larger, but not qualitatively unique. A RB’s force of repulsion against unreality is exactly akin to a human soul’s repulsion against unreality, and both of them give rise to their respective reality bubbles. “Pushing back on the water” is exactly the metaphor for existence in the River that Palamedes takes for granted, and which Nona and the Tower both exert effortlessly.

And here we have to take a step back and ask: just what in the River is really ‘natural’? Does the subjective reality of the River even have objective features to begin with?

“This is Canaan House,” you said. “Moment of death,” he agreed. You said, “The barrier begins where your line of sight ended. It’s derived from everything you saw.” He said, “And it doesn’t change … the sea is still. It looks like it’s moving, but it’s not—it’s like one of those holographic pictures where turning it up and down lets you see another part of the image. There is nothing here, and that nothing never changes.” -HTN ch. 33

In the dream, they were hiking up a big hill of brown, sun-blasted grass, crunching like paper beneath their feet. Below them the waters were rising, but they ascended without hurry, unpanicked by that bubbling, churning, brown morass… The clouds were strange, and in the far distance, a twister danced on the neon surface of the sea. -John 15:23 (NTN)

In the dream the waters kept rising. They started making a hut at the top of the hill. Bodies were bobbing up and down in the water. He was scared of that—he was always scared of the water—and he made the waters go away for a while, and he raised up some parts of the earth that had been covered by sea. -John 19:18 (NTN)

I would venture a guess that the answer is no - that the organizing metaphor of death as flood waters and rotting oceans is actually being imposed by the expectations and experiences of the undead Alecto, just as Harrow-the-Lyctor exerted a uncontrollable subconscious pull over the world of spirit.

Exactly how many Resurrection Beasts are there?

The first time TLT raises this question, it explicitly lampshades that there’s a loophole in the final accounting for this metric: it wants you to pay attention.

“How many revenants are there?” You prepared for an astronomical number. The Body raised its eyebrows when the Emperor Undying said, “Three. “There were nine. We called them by number. Over ten thousand years, we have managed to take out a grand total of five.” Before you could do anything—exclaim, or question his mathematics, which did not hold up even on first acquaintance—he did something dreadful. -HTN ch. 2

Five casualties plus three survivors is eight, one less than the given total of nine. With the benefit of hindsight from Nona or a little forward thinking from eagle-eyed first-time readers, we know that John is equivocating because he doesn’t want to talk about Alecto, who was neither alive nor dead at the time, and who obviously the missing ninth Resurrection Beast of the Earth.However, Nona gives us another accounting problem:

He said, I took you into myself and we became one. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. That started things going. Once you take down the sun, you’re cooking with gas, pardon the pun. I sliced through Venus, Mercury, Mars … by that point a couple of the tugs had already launched through the Kuiper. I had to kill Jupiter and Saturn in a fucking hurry. You and I went full fucking Hungry Caterpillar. We took Uranus … Neptune … crunched down Pluto … found every satellite and craft, reached in, crunched up all the humans, moved on. -John 1:20

John kills ten celestial bodies, not nine - nine planets, plus the Sun. TLT is very clear that stars are alive enough to slay and reanimate with necromancy, and thus that they should properly be alive enough to leave Revenants behind upon their violent thanergetic death.

Moreover, the metaphors and apologetics John clings to in this section - the ways in which he talks around his crimes against the Dominicus - are extremely loaded: he can’t stop himself from equivocating between Alecto and the Sun.

He said, You were screaming. I wanted you to stop, I wanted … I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire … or the sun.  I realised you were too much for me. This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take. He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you … I hid you in me. And when we were together … once the shaman had claimed the sun … I became God. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. -John 1:20

Augustine is certain that John can’t be drawing any power from Dominicus, and the rest of the story seems largely in agreement with his conclusions. However, John is clearly able to draw power from Alecto’s soul despite the fact that the First House is a corpse. If John were also supping on the dead soul of the sun in order to reanimate the sun’s corpse, that would be entirely compatible with the observed flow of energy from out of John and into the star of Dominicus, and it would resolve all uncertainty about his and Alecto’s absurd jump from Kardashev I to Kardashev II.

Then, the only missing planks of this wild hypothesis are: Why didn’t the Resurrection Beast of the sun flee the Dominicus system with the rest of the RBs? Where could John possibly be keeping a third keystone of his Perfect Lyctorhood? And, doesn’t this make the puzzle of John’s powers more complicated than it really needs to be?

Whence the Sun?

As for the first question, I believe John and Abigail both have their answers for this:

“The only sure way to banish a revenant is to destroy the physical anchor it inhabits before it can escape the shell. Inanimate objects can be destroyed; corpses too, if you remove the brain. But, Harrow, we have other problems on our hands,” said Abigail. -HTN ch. 49

You said, “So if you die, the Houses die with you. The star warming our system fails, and—becomes a gravitational well, as I understand it?” “Yes. A black hole, like the one that took out Cyrus,” he said. -HTN ch. 37

“It’s not that getting rid of the corpus wouldn’t be useful,” said the Emperor. “It would be. When Cyrus drew the corpus into a black hole, Ulysses said that it was the simplest thing in the world to dispose of the brain, that it fell into a dormant state, and he could bring it down to a stoma singlehanded…” -HTN ch. 36

When we see Harrow flip planets on-screen, the process of apopneumatic shock which blows the soul of the Beast from its corpse is not instantaneous. In other words, if a highly energetic system such as a star were to immediately die, its corpse might collapse or detonate faster than its soul could possibly escape through a thanergetic link to another vessel. The Resurrection Beast of the sun may literally be stillborn, severed from its own ties to undeath and left vulnerable for John to seize it - a vast and spiritual world-body lost somewhere within the afterlife.

And there is, in fact, another candidate for this entity - another ‘objective’ component of the underworld that we can map to the ruin of the sun, just as we can map the Tower and the entire aquatic River to Alecto.

“It is the mouth to Hell,” said God. He said, “A genuinely chaotic space—chaos in the meaning of the abyss as well as unfathomable … located at the bottom of the River. The Riverbed is studded with mouths that open at proximity of Resurrection Beasts, and no ghosts venture deeper than the bathyrhoic layer. Anyone who has entered a stoma has never returned.” -HTN ch. 36

Outside—another kilometre down, maybe—was the pale belly of the River, studded with rocky promontories. And right at the bottom—the water was churning. The station tilted forward, and I could see clearly. A hole had opened. It was big enough to swallow up the whole of Drearburh and have room to spare. It was a huge, hideous, dark expanse, and it had seething, weird edges; it took the lights pattering over them for me to see that the edges of the hole were enormous human teeth. Each one must’ve been six bodies high and two bodies wide, with the dainty scalloped edges of incisors. The teeth shivered and trembled, like the hole was slavering. And that hole had nothing in it; that hole was blacker than space, that hole was an eaten-away tunnel of reality. -HTN ch. 52

“They concoct their own vengeance,” said the Captain. “Their justice is not my justice. Their water is not my water. I came to help. I am made a mockery. The danger is upon you, and you do not even know … they are coming out of their tower, salt thing. There is a hole at the bottom of their tower. I will pull their teeth. I will make it blank for you.” -NTN ch. 27

A standard interpretation of Varun’s words is that the Tower itself is as a prison containing the Devils, and there’s a ‘hole’ in the sense of an aperture which now allows them to escape. Yes, but: the hole is specifically attributed to the bottom of the Tower because the spiritual embodiment of the black hole of Dominicus is spatially located at the base of the Tower. The hole is the Stoma, which Alecto has been placed to help seal and tap into - a Tower by definition rises up and over the bottom of the world.

We can say with some confidence, just on aesthetic grounds, that is an extremely strong connection between the Stoma and John’s power. The power of the Eighth House, which “sucks at the Stoma like a teat”, shares a shadow of the intensely oral, penetrating, incandescent burning glow of John’s transcendent necromancy:

As he faded, the pale Silas incandesced. He glowed with an irradiated shimmer, iridescent white, and the air began to taste of lightning. Gideon felt an internal tug, like a blanket being pulled off in the cold. It was a little bit like the sensation back in Response (which was, what, a thousand years ago?)—something deep inside her being prodded in its tender spot. But it also wasn’t, because it hurt like hell. It was like having a headache inside her teeth. -GTN ch. 17

Silas slammed his fists on the ground. The air was choked from Ianthe’s lungs. Her mouth and skin puckered and withered: she stopped, awkward, stiff, eyes bulging in surprise. The remnants of blood rose from the floor as pale smoke, trailing heavenward all around them. For a moment everything was blanched clean and luminously white. -GTN ch. 34

And God said, “Stop.” The world slowed down. You stopped, sitting upright in your chair: your bones somehow rigid and still, and your flesh chilly and rigid around those bones. The shrapnel spray from the Saint of Duty did not stop. But what remained of him stopped too, half man, half rupture—his prurient details hot and white, naked insides clothed with the sinus-drying burst of the power of God. -HTN ch. 25

I’m not sure that John has entered a full Lyctorhood arrangement with a second Resurrection Beast. However, I certainly believe that he’s constantly siphoning the RB of the sun, and that he’s permanently shaped Alecto to help him siphon and subjugate the sun, in much the same fashion that the Eighth House uses its own cavaliers to suck at the Stoma - yet incalculably vaster, for Alecto’s world-soul is both an impossibly vast channel and likely more suited to metabolizing the power of the sun than any other planetary Resurrection Beast.

Likewise, because he has no personal connection to the sun, I suspect John is using it not just as a punitive measure, but also as a proxy to extend his Lyctoral well - he can feed countless billions of people to the stillborn RB of the sun, dump smaller RBs inside, let them render down into an insane soul melange hive - teeming with demonic Heralds bursting to leap free through the first thanergetic link or solar convergence they can find - and capture the energies released by their lysis without having to devalue the meaning of the priceless relationship he thinks he shares with Alecto.

TL;DR - Hell is the ghost of a black hole, John is using Alecto to perform the Penrose Process on it

[concretejunglefm]

You know that one video of Noah taking a picture of fans? Could you do a one shot about that but y/n is his girlfriend and the fans are super excited to meet her as well and maybe one fan is holding a sign asking y/n to sign it so y/n asks Noah if she can go up to the fans. I'm not sure if I'm explaining this right but I just thought about it and thought it would be a cute fluffy type thing idk 😭.

enjoy nothing but pure fluff anon <3

As you exit the venue, you find yourself lingering behind Noah, enticed to shield yourself from the adoration of the fans who had patiently waited for them backstage. While you could have easily slipped away, you’re kept in your spot behind Noah, with his arm tucked behind him, hand holding yours, and your fingers intertwined.

Before he climbs into the minivan, he turns his attention to the crowd, snapping a photo of them with the disposable camera in his other hand. It’s the same camera he’s been using backstage for most of the day, capturing his own memories of their second visit to Australia, and your first.

Nicholas slips past you, banana tucked against his ear as he continues his long-standing joke of using the fruit as a phone. Meanwhile, Jolly breaks away from the group to distribute the remaining guitar picks among the fans, expressing his gratitude and engaging in a few words with them.

As you climb into the van, following Noah’s lead, you hear your name being called amidst a cacophony of voices. Turning your attention, you scan the small crowd of faces to find the one calling out to you. To your surprise, they’re holding up a sign with your name written on it.

You believed no one cared about you, being the girlfriend of a lead singer, despite being the sole lifeline that allows them a glimpse into his life, amidst baking posts and tour-related ones where you express your pride in him. You never flaunted your relationship with Noah; you were quite private about it. However, seeing a sign bearing your name made your heart flutter.

When you glance back at Noah, you notice a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are fixed on yours, radiating a gentle warmth that you had always noticed when he was gazing at you, even when you weren’t aware he was.

“Head over there, you have your own fan.” He nods his head, gesturing for you to approach the fan who was proudly displaying the makeshift sign in a small crowd of people, alongside other fans holding their own signs.

“Are you sure?” you murmur, noticing his head tilting and nudging you to walk over there.

As you approach, Noah guides you with a hand at your lower back, while Jolly calls you over.

“Hi,” you begin hesitantly, unsure of how to act in this situation.

You’ve encountered fans who’ve recognized you in the past, but they tend to jump in, making comments about Noah, the band or even requesting a photo when you’re seen with him. While it’s rare, it does happen, but Noah is polite enough to respect your privacy and politely decline. The only exception has been at music venues, after a show, or at festivals.

“Hi!” A girl around your age eagerly steps forward, restrained only by the barrier that had been erected to prevent fans from encroaching on the bands personal space. “I’m a huge fan. I absolutely adore all your baking videos.”

“Oh gosh! You watch those?” You shake your head with a soft laugh, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

You love baking, and while only a hobby, you take it seriously enough to document it on your Instagram, occasionally featuring moments of Noah’s playful antics, like him jumping in and stealing some of the mixture or a freshly baked good while they’re cooling.

“Would you mind?” she asks, holding out a sign and a Sharpie. As you get a closer look, you notice the decorative colored sprinkles and cupcakes around your name. For a moment, you’re speechless.

A gentle nudge from Noah brings you back to reality. His hand slips around onto your waist, giving you a soft yet possessive squeeze.

“So, you came to the show for her?” Noah asks, as you grab the sharpie and start scribbling your signature, wondering how any of the guys—or even celebrities—can possibly decide on a single one.

“Of course!”

You catch Noah’s mock offended gasp, quickly giggling in response. As you return the sharpie, you whisper a quiet thank you to the fan.

“How does it feel to be known as her boyfriend?” she asks.

You tilt your head slightly against the front of Noah’s shoulder as he draws you closer to him, your brow raising, as if waiting for him to respond.

“It feels pretty good.”

That makes you scoff and roll your eyes, playfully swatting at his chest with a hand. “Oh, please. I bet that hurt to say, ‘Mr. big egotistical rockstar’,” you quip, your tongue pressing between your front teeth as you scrunch your nose.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grins, and it melts your heart when you catch that familiar soft look in his eyes. “Why don’t you get a photo together?” he suggests, gently releasing you and guiding you towards your fan.

“Really?” you both reply in unison.

Noah pulls out his phone, Jolly reaching for the fan’s, as you move to stand as close to them as you can, awkwardly deciding how to pose. It was easier when you were backstage, working with Bryan, where he would snap numerous photos of you being silly, in between their usual takes.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much! The group chat won’t believe this!” She practically squeals as Jolly hands back her phone. You smile, offering your own gentle thanks, before feeling the gentle pull of Noah as you’re called back over to the minivan.

As the fans bid their farewells, you settle into your seat, gazing over the photo on Noah’s phone screen.

“Your very own fan. How does it feel?” Matt asks, leaning over the back of your seat to glance at the phone.

“Insane,” you exclaim, your bewilderment evident in your voice.

“You’re officially a part of the crew now, kid,” Matt says, ruffling your hair before he settles back down. You shake your head, laughing.

When you glance across to Noah, seated beside you, you notice his mischievous wink before his knee gently nudges yours across the narrow walkway, easily done due to his long legs.

It really did feel like you were part of the Bad Omens crew now.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @bloody-spades 

[phantomyre]

It was no use, now. Vincent knew Lucrecia was at the mercy of Jenova and Sephiroth, and he would be forced to watch… just as he had done in the past. Once again, he didn’t have a choice. And once again, it was per Lucrecia’s request… to stand by and watch Lucrecia suffer. What he would have given to be in her place. But this was what she had wanted. She wanted to understand Sephiroth, and refused to let Vincent put himself in further turmoil for her sake. It was all just a vicious cycle of protecting the other, yet still suffering in the end.

At Sephiroth’s initiation, Vincent could feel Lucrecia shudder. But he could also sense her will. Vincent could only speculate on what Sephiroth would do, or what he would show her. But all he did know was that it was his duty to uphold the promise. This was her decision. He had to allow her to be a mother as far as possible. And if it meant suffering at the hands of her son… A promise was a promise... The Lucrecia kneeling before him wasn’t the true Lucrecia. It was merely her conscience. The real Lucrecia had crumbled away long ago. And sooner or later, so would her memories. He couldn't afford to lose that, also. So long as Sephiroth existed, he would serve as a reminder for Vincent's failures. But he would also be the one memory of Lucrecia that had the ability to last for eternity. Thus, Vincent battled with his thoughts while Lucrecia’s own mental war was about to begin. The frail woman in white trembled as she felt her thoughts invaded; hearing her son’s voice in her head gave her a mixed sense of composure as well as horror. For as much as she had delve into the science of Jenova, she had yet to truly grasp the power that came from this alien being. And now she would experience it through her son… A series of horrific scenes began to take place, starting with the view of a helpless child… alone, cold, and sorely abused. The initial scene was already enough to send a dagger through Lucrecia’s chest, and she had to choke back the tears from what she saw. She stood up slowly, unable to take her eyes off of the innocent child with hair of silver, fresh warm tears streaming gently down her cheeks. Her voice cracked, finding it challenging to speak anything but his name. “Se… Sephiroth?” Her motherly tone slipped through. At that moment, she knew what was about to happen. She began to shake and made a step towards Sephiroth, but was immediately stopped when the scientists came in. As the lead Sephiroth away, Lucrecia followed, wanting badly to tear the scientists’ arms away from her son, but it was everything she could do to remind herself this was all just an illusion. A part of her wanted to not believe it. But she didn’t have to search deep to know this was all the truth. She recognized the people, the instruments of science, the room, and even the garments Sephiroth had to wear. “No… this can’t….” She couldn’t even finish her words, knowing this was all true. Just then, that dreaded familiar face came into view...Hojo. Lucrecia's fears were immediately replaced with hatred. She had been struggling to console herself all the while the scenes were playing, but there was no one there to guide or comfort her. Vincent was no where to be seen. Latex fingers reached for the instruments of torture, and Sephiroth’s tiny arms were strapped. It was too much for Lucrecia to bear any longer and she rushed forward in a fury of anger and horror for her son’s safety, hardly noticing the figment of Sephiroth’s shadow in that moment. “Let him go! Get away from my son!” Lucrecia screamed and attempted to attack one of the scientists strapping Sephiroth down, but ended up falling to the ground as the illusion vanished and moved to yet another angle, reminding Lucrecia that this was all just a vision. But this didn’t make Lucrecia stop. In her passion of anger and pain, she then lunged for Hojo, but something held her back. She started clawing and struggling. “I’ll kill you… I’ll kill you!” She collapsed to the ground once again on her knees, and that was when she heard Sephiroth’s voice. She briefly looked up, following his voice and finally taking note of his silhouette. Everything in her body wanted it all too stop. But if this truly was what Sephiroth… her son… had endured… she couldn’t turn away. “Sephiroth…” It was all she could say in response to his words, knowing full well this was merely the beginning of the most painful nightmares Sephiroth had endured. Growing silent, she accepted her fate, and awaited the unfolding of even more horrific scenes.

In its terrible glory, the Meteor could be seen tearing through the skies, causing even the clouds to scatter and break from the oncoming power that was Meteor-- guided by none other than the hand of a man who had been denied kindness. He was simply giving what the world had given him. Pain.

Lucrecia understood this. As disconnected as Sephiroth was from her, Lucrecia's heart was still knit with his, feeling his pain, and seeking to understand him, even if just a little bit. As much as Vincent understood the reasoning for Sephiroth's actions, he knew it wasn't the answer. After all, he too had locked himself away, endeavoring to suffer the nightmares as penance for his sins. However, it had only lengthened the days of Sephiroth's suffering. All the while Vincent allowed his torments to endure, a helpless boy was continuing to writhe in his own agony, brought upon him by the Ex-Turk's complacency. Now, that boy had become a man, and was imparting that same pain onto others. Pain only lead to more pain... an endless cycle of suffering. The distraught mother had met the ground, her tears watering the parched earth beneath her. Sephiroth spoke like a madman, enamored with the idea that the planet needed death.... or rather, salvation. Violence and morbidity was his solution. Like father like son... Lucrecia wept bitterly as the realization finally came pouring through. How wrong she had been to even think there could be an ounce of hope to regain her son. But what else did she have to lose? She had lost everything, including the will to live. She had failed in every capacity the day she entered Shinra. But at least... Vincent survived. She could no longer be there for Sephiroth. Her very existence was perhaps a blight to him. And one day, the planet would consume her, too. However... "It would have been for her." Vincent retorted at Sephiroth's comments. How could Lucrecia possibly live a normal life with her crime hanging over her? "Enough!" Lucrecia called out, her voice trembling from the emotions. Even though every ounce of him wanted to persist, the gunslinger held his peace and turned his face from Sephiroth. Moments later, Lucrecia spoke once again, keeping her head lowered in grief. "...He has the right of it," she almost whispered. "No matter what I've gone through... no matter what he chooses to do afterwards... the pain I feel will never amount to what he's had to endure." She then slowly looked up, her eyes directly landing on Vincent's. "Even you..." A frown creased over Vincent's brow. "All the pain I've put you through, and what I've taken from you... from you both..." Her hand rested on her chest, trembling, but firm. "This pain... I can bear it. I must. So please, Vincent..." Vincent's frown deepened, weighing her words and eventually causing him to break his gaze from her. He understood her request. It would be impossible for him to keep... had he not loved her. 'Shall I show you true suffering...?'

The words sent a chill down Lucrecia's spine. Her hand gripped the cloth at her chest, her other hand curling against the dying earth. She couldn't fathom what Sephiroth could have meant. But she had worked on Jenova's body all the same. ...What had they done to her son all those years? When Vincent heard Sephiroth's morbid threat, a shot of horror tore through him, creating a phantom pain. He may not have felt the exact pain Sephiroth had endured, but he was well acquainted with every type of physical cellular pain known to science. Hojo had ensured that much, having used him to test the limit of pain endurance. Lucrecia may have understood the science behind such things. But for her to endure the same torture...? He wouldn't wish it upon Hojo himself, let alone someone he loved. If Sephiroth truly intended to torment Lucrecia, what was to stop Vincent from lashing out at Sephiroth? Perhaps that was precisely Jenova's plan... to force him to break his promise, and in return, end Lucrecia's life. ...But to see her in agony... again... he'd rather have Hojo tear through his flesh a thousand different ways than to watch Lucrecia suffer. His clawed hand slightly curled at his side.

Remember... your promise...

[for-a-longlongtime]

WIP on Wednesday Thursday

Well, first of all, my WIP folder is currently looking like this:

But fuck it, we ball right?

I got tagged by @din-cognito and @avastrasposts this week, and @the-blind-assassin-12 and @lotusbxtch last week, so I've got some catching up to do! I've been all over the place working on different docs, so you're getting a few tidbits this week.

I've posted snippets of this before (and lo! a hozier title! I'm gonna have to change that though because the story ended up going differently than planned), and after it having been on hold for months, the pieces are coming together at last.

let me wrap my teeth around the world (working title) | Santiago x Frankie “You think we did the right thing there?” Santiago says, staring at the ceiling as he avoids Frankie's eyes. Unsure he really wants to hear the answer, because of how likely it is that he is the only person who can’t answer that with a decisive yes. Fish was the only one on their team - besides Tom - who'd had a family to take care of, who needed that money probably more than any of them did because of his pilot license being suspended. “I mean... Following his lead with the money.” No answer. The deafening silence lasts for much too long. Santi grimaces as he closes his eyes. Shit. Why did he even ask? He keeps fucking up like this.

Next we've got a WIP that I haven't worked on in a bit (it wanted to go on break, bummerrr) but that I'm hoping to pick up very soon.

Untitled | Reynaldo x Matthew It’s those large hands that draw Matt’s attention first.  That, and the golden chain partially but-not-quite hiding under that checkered golf shirt, glistening every now and then in the bright afternoon sun. It’s almost as bright as the gleam in Sophie’s eyes when she throws back a shot and listens to the older man introduce himself as Reynaldo. Matt is only vaguely aware of the prepared talk that the man launches into, a few words standing out, such as ‘exclusive members only’ and ‘the best golf club in all of Arizona’. Things that everybody wanted to hear, and that gave Sophie all the more opportunity to coo at the man how this was ‘one of the best premium golf clubs’ she’d ever been at. It probably isn’t all that premium though, considering the Scotts and Dale had been able to book this place on a budget. And truth be told, it’s still unclear to Matt why they are here on a ‘vow renewal bachelor staycation’, which seemed a contradiction on its own. Or even why Sophie showed up here, acting like one of the guys, just long enough until she found someone who was willing to give her the attention she was clearly looking for. He’d seen the pattern before, especially with the girls on the Kel-squad. None of that matters though, he tries to remind himself as they make their way up to the golf course. He’s simply glad to get away from Kelsey for a couple of days - not just for some peace and quiet, but also so he doesn’t have to wonder if she’s talking to Domingo every time she smiles at an incoming message on her phone.

Finally, this last one is still in the VERY early stages, but ngl... I'm excited. Thank you to the folks who encouraged me to keep going with it! This is hella out of my comfort zone but what the hell, that's where the fun is, right? This one is going to more filth than I'll probably be able to shove into an one shot... so it may end up becoming two or three parts. We'll see.

for glory (working title) | Harry Castillo Harry is speechless, shock painted over his features, and it takes him a moment to find his voice. "You wouldn't dare to," he finally manages to say, and what had previously been surprise in his eyes has now flipped into unmistakeable rage. "Mmm, is that so, Harry? What - you think I've got morals or something?"

EDIT: WAIT!! I forgot to add one final excerpt! This is from a yet to be decided chapter from Joel and Marcus Moreno' story. I spent way too much time trying to find the right face claim moments for them at different ages, and this is what I settled on for their mid-twenties:

Joel in his mid-twenties (a.k.a. Zach Wellison in Brothers & Sisters)

Marcus Moreno in his late twenties (a.k.a. looking like Comandante Veracruz from the Burn Notice movie).

Yes, I'm as shocked as y'all are about the latter, but I promise it'll make sense. As for the excerpt:

Untitled series | Joel Miller x Marcus Moreno Marcus folds his arms as he leans back against the wall, looking every bit the charismatic guy most people know him to be. But Joel has known him a long time and can see where the varnish has cracked, and the parts he so desperately tries to cover up.  "So you don't like it. How I look. You don't like me anymore," Marcus says after a moment, and there’s something about all that combativeness on display - as well as the bitter irony of those words - that hits Joel much harder than he was prepared for. He doesn’t have the same defense system that Marcus clearly is equipped with; the mask that he can put on and off so easily after years of practice. So he just shakes his head. "Think it's been too long since you've had someone push back against you, M." "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Joel tries to hide his sigh by drinking from his coffee, but the beverage has gone cold, the stale taste of it now bitter on his tongue in a way that feels oddly specific to this situation. "Don't pick a fight with me because you're unhappy, Marcus," he says softly.

I know a lot of y'all already posted a WIP Wednesday, so I'm just gonna link a couple of folks, no pressure as always (apologies if you've already made your weekly WIP update):

@perotovar @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem @qveerthe0ry

@letsgobarbs @gothcsz @milla-frenchy @guiltyasdave @oliveksmoked

@magpiepills @arcanefox207 @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @clubsoft

@romanarose @the-blind-assassin-12

[see-arcane]

Do you think a Carmilla adaptation set in the modern day could hypothetically work? I know that outside of the web series (which was doing its own thing) the ones that try to go for a more contemporary setting haven't been particularly good.

I guess the biggest hurdle with that would be coming up with a way for Millie to hang around at Laura's place because faking a car crash or something would just lead to her dad calling an ambulance.

The thing that made Carmilla's stranding with Laura and her household was a very particular set of environmental needs.

The household must be in a remote area, far from heavy human population. A small community is still needed for Carmilla to eventually feed on, but nothing very peopled or close.

Carmilla's crew needs to be convincing and non-suspicious when leaving Carmilla behind with strangers as they themselves move on for an ongoing period. They do this with zero contact made between them and Laura's dad, and with no names to investigate.

While extremely tricky, these factors aren't impossible to play with.

First, remoteness. A remoteness without the modern ability to, say, drive an ailing girl to aid or contact emergency services, et cetera. This location has to be in deep countryside or wilderness. Could be a home or a vacation place, assuming we're keeping Laura's dad well-off. Regardless, it's a spot chosen for its privacy and distance from people. I'd lean toward mountainous terrain for dual points of beauty and being just Real fucking difficult to maneuver on.

Next, "Why are you ditching your daughter with us??" This is the hardest bit in the 21st century. Everyone is plugged in. Everyone demands contact info. You couldn't bullshit a single survivalist hermit living in a cave into believing that you know not what these cellular devices are, good sir. You don't just show up in the middle of the night, chuck an adolescent at the porch and run. No, not even with theatre quality con job carriage/car crashes. Because emergency services are a thing and people would be on the phone/piling her in another, non-busted vehicle to get her to a hospital before you could finish acting out your script.

We need to pile up more elements.

Say, one involving inhospitable weather. Flash flood rain. A burying snowstorm that makes even a helicopter too dangerous to fly. Something that obstructs all travel and, ideally, really does crap out the phone and Internet service.

My thought: It shifts to a story taking place in winter, on a mountainside, with Carmilla no longer a poor ailing damsel act, but a simple visitor from some fancy holiday lodge. She and her family are vacationing up here and she is so terribly bored. Might she make friends ;) with Laura in the meantime? But what's this! Oh no! A snowstorm has dropped in and she can't possibly repeat her trek back home in such weather.

A crackling phone call is staged between her and her 'family' as it comes across in sputters and static that yes, yes, she's safe, Laura's dad insists, it's all fine, she can stay until conditions improve. The phone cuts out (from the family's side) and the Internet goes down. Cue the conditions being The Shining-level isolating. The girls make the best of it, of course. <3

Until the bodies start piling up.

ANYWAY

It wouldn't be the exact premise, no, because an exact translation of almost any period piece lit story can't be replicated in a modern era. Too much has changed, too many obstructions sit between the original story and its payoff. All that can be kept is the core of the narrative and whatever factors can either be translated or built upon to make the main ideas still function.

[frek-yuck-a]

Just a Jane Dickey hc (very ooc 😖)

I don't think there's a lot of people discussing Jane's relationship with Bill or giving any headcanons about it (at least to my knowledge) but I do so let's talk about that. (very self indulgent AHHAHAHA)

Warning; (very lengthy!!)

We all know about Jane's hatred towards Bill and how she really, really hates his guts. The implied reasoning or accepted reason on why is because he is a shitty person. But I can't help but want to think of another silly reason, that Jane actually used to tolerate her brother back then. That they used to have an 'ehh' relationship.

Like I could sort of imagine when bill was a little kid and he was urged (forced) to hold his baby sis when she was born. Bill was also a good boy back then (at least in that one panel), so I could also imagine he'd be an 'ok' brother to Jane, but they are never close. I could imagine that Bill never liked Jane as Jane never liked Bill. He'll keep his distance, showing little interest in Jane or whatever she's doing.

Like initially, Jane and Bill might have shared that superficial bond, common among siblings, where one holds the other for the sake of familial duty rather than genuine affection. Childhood is often filled with fleeting moments of connection, but as they grew, the differences in their personalities and values likely began to create a wedge between them.

Bill changed as he descended into a toxic asshole who lives off his comics and movies, using mommys money, along with his friends who aren't really his friends. It's already a given that Bill and Jane have an estranged relationship, was it about their parents? Or the fact Bill is being an asshole? I don't knew.

But I want to think that Jane, in some form of way, wanted to have a big brother there for her, to confide in her when needed, or generally to use. And you can't do that when you have a piece of shit brother now can you? I don't think this will be explicitly said but I think she longs for that connection with her brother, despite her not wanting to. She hates him of course, and she will definitely do anything in her power to kill him and his friends in a heartbeat :))

I think this could be a sort of grudge against her brother, and why she really hates him, there are times you want your family to be there for you, but sometimes what you want cannot become in fruition. There comes rage and the primal urge to just take control and get rid of the problem yourself. In Jane’s quest for agency, her anger pushes her to take control of her own narrative.

In a way, Jane wanted to be close to him and often sought his attention (well not outrightingly said, but you get the picture), but he resented it. She has feelings of resentment towards him for being selfish and shitty. I headcanon that Jane wants close family bonds, but she can't do it when her family is at least to the extent that it's neglectful to their emotional needs or wants, for example the fucking dog that Bill named in his interests but would leave it to the care of Jane.

It could represent both the emotional burden Jane carries and her longing for companionship. The dog is a living being that requires care and affection, but it's also an entity neglected by the very person who should be responsible for it, Bill. Paralleling Jane's own experiences, as she desires a loving brotherly connection but is consistently met with his disdain and selfishness.

Not leaving the parents role in the equation, They exhibited favoritism or ignored Jane's emotional needs, deepening her feelings of neglect. This overarching family dynamic might lead her to feel that she is the only one who cares about maintaining family ties, while Bill operates under the assumption that his actions are justified because of their parents support. Putting Jane in charge of caring for the dog, for instance, it symbolizes how she’s forced into caretaker roles while Bill shirks any responsibility. (Yes were placing gender roles in the equation, did I stutter?)

The tipping point tips where her initial desire for connection transforms into vehement hatred. The grief of unmet expectations, coupled with the impulse to protect oneself from her emotional damage, manifesting into rage, directed at her brother and the broader family dynamics that contributed to their estranged relationship.

The emotional turmoil for Jane is not just binary (love vs. hate) but rather a spectrum of conflicting feelings. On one hand, she despises the person Bill has become, selfish, lazy, and toxic. On the other, there’s a lingering sense of betrayal; he was supposed to be her protector, supporter, and confidant in moments of need. This internal conflict could lead Jane to experience cognitive dissonance, where her thoughts and feelings about Bill do not align. She might catch herself reminiscing about those rare moments when he was the attentive brother, only to feel more deeply hurt by the present reality.

Jane's hatred becomes a defense mechanism. By outwardly loathing Bill, she erects emotional barriers that shield her from the pain of longing for a relationship that can never be. It’s easier to exert anger toward a perceived enemy than to confront the underlying disappointment and sadness of what could have been.

So in basic summary, Jane’s hatred toward Bill is likely a reflection of her unmet emotional needs, feelings of betrayal, and the disenchantment stemming from hopes for a supportive sibling bond that never came to be. Where love is often overshadowed by disappointment, leaving anger as the more palpable emotion to grapple with.

But that's just a headcanon of course! ;P

(sorry if it doesn't flow well, I just wrote this in one sitting, I was thinking of opening up hcs requests, I think they are fun to write.)

[poeticallywriting]

「 ✦ Founding Titans ✦ 」 - Eren Jaeger x Reader One-Shot

⤷MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

╰ For a visual reprensentation of Eren Jaeger visit: Here

╰ For the "Founding Titans" music line-up in the one-shot (full 3 hour concert edition, in order) visit: Here

Y/n has been a fan of a rock band called “Founding Titans” since their debut. And finally, after several years, she would see them live with her two best friends. The band consisted of the drummer Reiner, guitarist Mikasa, bassists Zeke, and of course the lead singer Eren Jaeger… y/ns crush since the beginning of their career.

Eren had gorgeous eyes. The left is a stunning Peridot gem, and the right is a beautiful Citrine color. His skin tone was a stunning cool-neutral shade, while his hair was a beautiful chestnut color that went to his shoulders. His looks were only complimented by his voice, which was so unique that words couldn’t do it justice. Eren was also tall, and his tattoos set the look off. He was perfect.

Y/n turned her attention from the poster on her wall of the band and to the mirror that was long enough to show her body in full. The outfit finally felt complete after two hours of trying to get ready. It had to be perfect for tonight. The fishnets paired with her high-waisted skirt that stopped mid-thigh, her long-sleeve see-through mesh top with the black bra underneath, the boots she paired with the outfit, the chain belt that draped around her waist, and the black thin cardigan with the fur trim… it was perfection. Her makeup look was a smokey black eye with some cat eyeliner that was sharp enough to cut a bitch and a deep red lipstick. With her crimped hair, Y/N was ready. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the entrance door. It was her friend while the other honked the horn. Y/N hurried downstairs and flung the door open as she grabbed her bag from the rack.

“Hey there you sexy bitch! Come on!”

Y/N smiled with a laugh and hurried behind her friend to the car that had “Founding Titans” blasting over the radio loud enough to waken the neighborhood.

“Ah, I’m so excited! I can’t wait!  Can’t believe you guys did this as an early birthday gift!” “Girl… you should know by now that we would do something like this for you. You’re always there for us and everyone else. You put others' feelings before your own. You deserve this.”

Y/N felt tears form in her eyes, but she had to fan them away as they laughed, “I can't ruin my makeup, you guys!” She playfully reached into the front seat and gave them a gentle whack on the arm as the three laughed.

The ride there was a blast as they sang loudly to their hearts' content and played trivia over the band and the members. Of course Y/N won… they wouldn’t expect anything less from her. 

The time came to enter and get to their seat, only to Y/Ns surprise, her best friends got front row seating for the concert, “No way! We’re going to be this close up to the stage?” Y/Ns eyes were huge as she looked back and forth between her friends. But the friends couldn’t answer as the lights went off and the stage was illuminated. It sent everyone into a frenzy.

The room filled with cheers as a simple line was spoken, “Are you fuckers ready?!” From the vocalist Eren Jaeger. Seeing them come out onto the stage was like seeing a magical mythical creature for the first time in your life after being told it wasn’t real. They opened up with a big hit of theirs, but as they played, Eren noticed someone in the crowd who stuck out like a sore thumb… Y/N. She was gorgeous, ethereal, and breathtaking, another being from a different realm. His heterochromic eyes were locked onto her almost all night.  

Y/N was in a trance as she danced and sang along to the music, but her breath was taken fully away when they finished the concert up with “I Wanna Be Your Slave” and “Beggin.” The eye contact was so strong, and the way Eren moved and danced on stage… they might as well have been in bed together at that moment. There was nothing but pure desire for one another. It was so strong that other concert goers were observing the two in shock and most in jealousy.

Eren had seen many faces and people, yet Y/N stuck out. It was her aura and her beauty that called to him. Out of everyone on tour that he had seen or interacted with, she was the one. He wanted to meet her. He had to meet her.

Right as the band finished up, Eren knelt down to security and whispered in the big buff man's ear, and pointed to Y/N. The two spoke for a bit amongst each other before Eren got back up, “Thank you all for coming tonight and supporting us. Without you, there would be no us. Have a safe trip home and we fucking love you!” The crowd went wild as the band cleared off the stage.

As Y/N and her friends were about to leave the stadium, security stopped them and asked for Y/N, “Please follow me. You’re wanted in the back per request of Eren Jaeger himself.”

The friend group gave each other a look of shock and disbelief as Y/N was drug to the back. Was this real? Was this security guy an imposter? Would someone with bad intentions be waiting for her? Y/Ns heart raced in her chest with anxiety. Maybe she should lay off the true crime..?

Upon arriving at the back, Eren looked up and gave a small smirk as he headed toward Y/N. The male was much more handsome in person, even with all the sweat on him from the concert and a towel wrapped around his neck to cool down as he chugged a bottle of water. The images did Eren no justice, and neither did the interview videos.

“I couldn’t help but notice you in the crowd tonight. You look… absolutely beautiful.” Eren spoke softly in his deep and heavy German accent. ”I just had to get your name tonight.”

Y/N smiled as Eren spoke to her, in disbelief that this was happening. “It’s Y/N… and thank you. You look much more handsome in person than in any photos or video interviews you find online.” Y/N kind of nervously laughed, which earned a small laugh from Eren along with a contagious smile that would outshine the sun itself.

“Would you like to go to my dressing area? We could talk there if you’d like. I don’t want to keep your friends waiting on you too long now-”

“No! I mean… that would be great, Eren. They’re fine.” Y/N smiled as she followed Eren to his area.

“You can go ahead and sit down if you’d like,” Eren spoke as he shut the door behind them and took the towel off of his neck and wiped his forehead down.

“Oh, thank you.” Y/N sat on the comfortable sofa that was green but not like Eren’s eye.

“Here.” Eren handed Y/N a cold bottle of water as he sat down beside her on the sofa. “You must be thirsty after partying in the crowd tonight. I thought talking in here would be easier, it’s still really noisy in the back.”

Y/N laughed, which made Eren smile, “Yeah, actually I was thirsty. This is highly appreciated. And it was really loud back there… I could barely hear you compliment me.” With a twist of the cap, the water was no longer sealed and the feeling of cold water ran down the inside of Y/Ns throat. Eren couldn’t help but watch and look at the woman's throat in awe. Her skin looked so soft and smooth… despite both of them being sweaty, she also smelled good. Like a sweet pastry item that made his stomach want to growl.

“Everything okay?” Y/N asked as she put the lid back on the bottled water but soon noticed Eren looking over her face. Y/Ns cheeks blushed pink as her eyes also scanned over Eren's face slowly. That tension was back. Neither of them spoke any words as they stared at each other, just taking in the beauty and imperfections that made them human and perfect in their own ways.

Their faces were only a few inches away from one another as they grew closer together. “Eren…” Y/N whispered as their eyes looked at each other's lips and eyes. Suddenly, Eren closed the gap between them and sealed their lips together.  Y/N was surprised at first but soon melted into the kiss and gave the kiss back. The quiet dressing room was filled with soft kissing sounds and hums as their kissing got more intense by the second.

Eren’s hand roamed the sides of Y/Ns curves, earning a soft gasp against his lips from her. Oh, how he loved the sound already. It was true music to his ear. He hadn’t remembered the last time he had been with someone until now. His body responded in shivers as Y/N softly dragged her black nails up his back underneath his body-hugging fishnet top. He looked like his wardrobe was from 'Queen of the Damned' itself.

A heat started to pull at his lower region as he felt himself grow tight in his pants. And Y/N had began to throb beneath the belt as they madeout biting each others lip and tugging on them, sucking each others tongue, tongue wrestling, exploring each others mouths… together they made the perfect taste.

“Eren…” Y/N spoke as she gently pulled back for air, gasping softly. Both of them softly panted as their foreheads laid against one another. But that was soon put to a halt when Eren started to kiss along her jawline and down her neck. His hands ran up her legs as he bit on her neck and sucked in place leaving marks behind. The way Y/Ns body responded to his touch and actions only made him rock hard and crave more as he hummed against her skin.

Gently and slowly, Eren parted Y/Ns legs and settled between them on his knees. His hands cupped her hips as he pawed at her skin, and his breath lingered along her skin that was somewhat hidden under fishnet tights.

Y/N watched with lust-filled eyes as her hands ran through the beautiful, long chestnut brown locks of hair.  She never thribbed more in her life and wanted something so bad… She wanted this more than she ever wanted her ex-boyfriend. But soon shock waved across her as she gasped loudly out of surprise. Eren had pushed her skirt up and ripped the thighs at the crotch without warning.

Eren looked at her clothed pussy before licking over the wet underwear as his piercing eyes looked up to her. How he delighted in his tongue skills and how Y/Ns body moved in response to his tongue. A wicked grin appeared on his face before biting at the clothed clit area earning yet another moan from Y/N.

Y/n reached down from Eren's hair and began to slide her underwear to the side and hold it for Eren, whose eyes lit up. It was the prettiest pussy he had ever seen. The way it glistened from its wetness caused by him alone… he couldn’t wait to drive her over the edge. Without hesitation, Eren's tongue ice-cream licked slowly from the bottom to the top before starting to lick and flick his tongue on the soft button that would drive Y/N mad. 

Y/Ns body jolted as her legs rested over his shoulders and her eyes stated on him as he lapped up every inch of her and sucked on every right spot… her eyes shut in ecstasy, “oh.. .fuck.”

Eren pawed at her inner thighs before easing a finger into her wet hole that was ready for him. Slowly, he began to pump in and out of her, his finger curled to hit the perfect gummy spot inside of her body before adding another finger. The way Y/N throbbed around his fingers was cute, and how the juices made a little noise as he began to speed up… it was heaven as he watched Y/N spasm in her spot with her back arching as she gripped the back of the sofa. All in the mean time, Eren sucked on her clit and flicked it nack and forth with his tongue before giving it a gentle bite and kiss here and there. 

“You’re being such a good girl, Y/N.” His voice was raspy as he sped his fingers up to a dangerous pace. With a lick of his lips, Y/Ns juices were no longer on his lips, and instead, he slowly rose up, keeping his fingers in motion, and cupped Y/Ns chin. “Look at me, baby,” he calmly demanded.

Y/N looked to the brunette male as she moaned and writhed around in pleasure before he praised her again, “R…ren.. Please…” “Please what?” He teased. “Pl… please… I want you.” Her face was as hot as fire itself and as red as a strawberry.

With a grin Eren slowly stopped his fingers and slid them out with the contracting muscles. A trail of juice connected to his fingers before it broke. With no hesitation, Eren put his fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean with a hum.

“You taste good, baby girl.”

Y/Ns face had never been redder in her life as she sat there, panting from her orgasm.

Eren backed up and undid his pants slowly as a show. He allowed himself to spring free of the restricting fabric against his hard-on… what relief it was to be free.

“Stand up,” Eren demanded, and Y/N complied slowly as she shook softly in her knees. “Perfect…” Eren guided Y/N to face the vanity mirror and spread her legs from him. His hand pumped himself for a second as he admired her reflection. “You’re so beautiful…” Eren spoke before reaching down to make sure her underwear was to the side so he could align himself up to her pussy to rub against her wet and swollen folds from her arousal.

“You’re so plump,” Eren hissed out before slowly sliding inside Y/Ns hole that twitched for his length. Oh, how she slowly gasped, feeling Eren enter her body as her back arched enough to be comfortable with him. He sat still for a minute to give the woman time to adjust to his size before slowly beginning to stroke her walls.

Eren began to pick up the pace, causing Y/N to hold onto the edge of the vanity as she gasped and tried to rotate her hips with his movements for more friction. Swiftly, Eren reached up and grabbed Y/Ns hair like a ponytail to make her look at themselves in the mirror, “Look at how gorgeous you are… nnn…”

Y/N felt embarrassed yet excited as she reached back behind herself to put a hand on Eren’s hip, which began to speed up in motion. She moaned out more as her body began to grow weaker, “d-deeper, Ren… deeper-” she moaned out. Eren listened to her command as he went deeper. The sound of skin against skin filled the dressing room as the vanity began to rock with their bodies.

Right before they could reach their high, Eren slid out and turned her around only to sit Y/N on the edge of the vanity. Instinctively, Y/N put her legs around Eren and her hands behind her back to prop herself up as Eren lined his head up with her wet and glistening hot entrance from the friction before. This time, he carefully rammed himself inside her, earning a loud moan from Y/N as she launched her body against his, wrapping her arms around him.

There was no starting slow… Eren started this time off deep and fast as the slaps of skin against skin got louder and more frequent, “Ah.. fucking hell…” Eren whimpered in pleasure. His eyes watched Y/N and the way her body bounced and jiggled from the impact; it only made him more hot and bothered. Y//N was perfect in every way imaginable.  The way her cute and swollen wet cunt took his dick so perfectly was enough to make anyone pussy drunk. The way the walls fluttered around his cock was heaven.. .and the way she sang his name and moaned as her nails dug into his back rippoing his mesh shirt in the process… it was heaven.

Y/Ns toes curled as her head leaned back, her nails into Eren's skin, dragging up his back and leaving behind marks and some surface cuts that lightly bled with a small sting that Eren liked. “Eren!” She gave a final moan before reaching her high again and gasping as her body wiggled about in his hold. 

Eren only fastened up as he held onto her ass thightly as he burried up inside her for dear life as he chased his own high and fucked her through her high. And when he reached his… bliss was washed over him as he slowed down his pumping to ride them both down from the peak of their high. 

Y/N leaned against the mirror as her legs slid from around Eren’s waist as she panted and softly moaned from the aftermath, her head spinning. Both of them smiled at each other before blissfully laughing as Eren slowly slid out of her body, her cunt oozing with come. 

“That was fantastic,” they both said before laughing again.

“Here…” Eren backed up to get a bottle of room-temperature water that he had left out before the show (he was a fan of cold water to drink) and a clean rag. He had to clean her up, he couldn’t leave her a mess after he just abused her cunt. Y/N watched in awe as Eren took care of her afterward.

“Do you need a morning-after pill?” Eren asked as he looked up to her from her legs as he stood up.

“No, I have birth control-”

“I’ll give you the money for the morning-after pill to be safe. Unless you want to keep the risk of possible pregnancy.” Without hesitation, Eren reached for his wallet and pulled out some money for the morning-after pill. “Here, please take it. It takes two of us to do this. Or at least get a nice massage later. And some new tights.”

Y/N was in shock as she slowly took the money before he began to tidy up her clothes only to then kiss her forehead softly before getting himself dressed. “You’re serious?”

Eren looked back to the woman, confused, as he straightened his own clothes up. “Yeah, why? It’s just being responsible and taking accountability for what we did. I’m not letting you pay for it."

Y/Ns ex boyfriend had never paid for such an item or never cared for aftercare either. This was what being treated right was like? Even if just a one-time thing? This was beautiful and heart-warming and she would never forget the moment.

“Most guys wouldn’t do that. That’s why I asked if you were serious.”

“Well… I’m not most guys. You're not some body to toss to the side.” Eren spoke with a blink before slowly smiling. “Your makeup is messy…” Carefully, he got a tissue and began to clean the makeup up as Y/N still sat on the vanity. She couldn’t help but smile as her mind was still fogged over.

“Thank you, Eren-”

“Please, call me Ren… that was cute earlier.”  "Okay, Ren," Y/N smiled as she spoke again before their lips met again softly.

[lilylife2010]

Sunrise on the Reaping Analysis (Spoiler Alert)

Thanks to Suzanne Collins we finally have the backstory to our favorite Hunger Games mentor in the newly released prequel novel, Sunrise on the Reaping, not to mention additional trauma to add to our psyches. The brash, tortured and alcohol-dependent former survivor of The 50th Hunger Games, Haymitch Abernathy, faces insurmountable odds when he is “reaped” into the 2nd quarter quell. As per usual I warn there are spoilers ahead and if you have yet to read the novel I advise you to leave this post and don’t come back until you have. With that...let’s get started.

Haymitch Abernathy has long been one of my favorite characters from The Hunger Games series, partially due to the enigma of his personal tragedy. Previously, we only had a summarized version of his televised Games to go off of when, in preparation for their own, Katniss and Peeta watched the clips to gain knowledge on how a quarter quell proceeds. We also got a tidbit of information out of Haymitch when he mentions the Capital executing his family and girlfriend. Other than that all we know about Haymitch and his personal traumas, is he drinks a lot (like a lot), he sleeps with a knife, and he appears to have no one he loves or cares for until Peeta and Katniss come along.

In true Suzanne Collins fashion, we soon discovered Haymitch’s story was far more twisted and tragic than we first thought. Not only was Haymitch selected by a chance of poor luck in a botched reaping, but the televised Games, in which Katniss and Peeta observed Haymitch survive the 2nd quarter quell, was more or less a steaming, hot pot of bullshit. 

Sunrise on the Reaping also gives us some information on the Covey clan and what their status is at this point in the timeline as well as some background info on Katniss’ parents. We learn that Maude Ivory has passed away and that the Covey’s made a gravesite for their members deep in the woods. It’s unclear how Maude Ivory died and it is still unclear if Lucy Gray is actually confirmed dead (did the Covey find her body or did they just assume she passed over time?), though I like to think her fate is still a mystery in lieu of the poem. Personally, I like the idea of Lucy Gray being a ghostly presence haunting Snow and the Capital for their crimes and not knowing her fate gives her that mysterious, ethereal power.

Katniss’ parents are finally named, Burdock and Astrid, as well as confirmed to be Covey (at least Burdock is), although we still do not know through whom. My guess is still Maude Ivory, but I am not as positive as I once was. Regardless, it was great seeing a bit of Katniss’ history and where she comes from. Despite Burdock only ever being mentioned in the original series (and never by name), his absence in Katniss’ life, and the impact his death had on her and her family, allows him to feel very much like a character who once lived and breathed, so it was nice to see him living and breathing.

Lenore Dove is also introduced as a new member of the Covey clan, and Haymitch’s lost love, alongside his hardworking mother who reminds me of Hazel Hawthorne (Gale’s mother) and his younger brother Sid. Their tragic demise is what ultimately drives Haymitch deep into the bottom of a liquor bottle. This loss, coupled with the trauma of the Hunger Games and the subsequent isolation from the citizens of District 12, lead us to the Haymitch we know and love. And don’t forget, his pain multiplied each year as he mentored tribute after tribute for the next 23 years, only to have to return to his district each time in the company of children’s coffins.

Another character, while not necessarily new but expounded upon, is that of Maysilee Donner. She just may be the breakout star of the novel. This fan favorite showed us a different style of rebellion than we have seen before. With her lovely outfits, her many jewels, and her refusal to eat with her hands, Maysilee refuses to allow herself to act like the beast or animal the Capital treats her as. Throughout her stay in the Capital and her dwindling days in the arena she held onto her humanity with both hands and told anyone who tried to take it from her to kindly, f**k off. This is not to say that she wasn’t lethal or that she went into the Games utterly prepared to die. But rather she simply said that if she must die, she would do it with dignity. She had a kind of resilience and authenticity to her that could be biting at times yet a gentleness and selflessness in the way she handled the tokens of her fellow tributes that plainly showed how important holding onto your identity was to her. Like Peeta, she wasn’t going to play the game on anyone’s terms but her own, and she wanted to hold on to who she was.

Of the characters introduced and re-introduced in this novel, Plutarch Heavensbee continues to be the most mysterious character in my opinion. I would actually be highly interested in seeing another prequel novel centered around Plutarch. There is so much we don’t know about him. How and why did he become disillusioned with the Capital? How did he come to know of District 13’s survival? When did he become a Gamemaker? In what ways since Haymitch’s games (and perhaps before) has he attempted to aid the rebellion? How prominent are the anti-Capital citizens within the Capital walls? Seriously, there is so much we could learn from a novel centered around Plutarch that could amplify the theme of building up to the revolution in the original series. If Katniss was the fire that was catching, Haymitch the flint striker that helped ignite it, and Lucy Gray the song that inspired the flame, then Plutarch was the one who aired it across live television until the entire nation caught fire.

One thing the prequel novels have done best is show the audience how flammable the nation was long before Katniss’ birth. The districts have sparked before and even those in the Capital have attempted to fan the flames, but either the spark doesn’t quite catch or the fanning was too much for too little. Rebellions build over time, and oftentimes they need a combination of strategy and sheer luck. 

Therefore, it makes sense that when Katniss comes along not only does she have an unprecedented amount of good luck, but those who’ve been in the shadows trying to build the rebellion have perfected their strategies over time. Fate or not, Katniss could never have succeeded if not for the seeds that were planted from the inception of the Games. These stories eerily parallel the events of WWI and WWII. With a large part of the events leading to the beginning of the second world war having been planted at the end of the first. And the murder of innocent tributes in the Games parallels the genocide of innocent people due to a corrupt dictator with lofty and evil ideas about race and class and a civilization that grows silent or even buys into the propaganda.

This is why The Hunger Games series is not only so relevant to our society today but also blatantly terrifying as it is a reflection of our history. People often comment on how our society isn’t too far from being a civilization capable of creating such an atrocious event, but our history already proves we are more than capable of it. The Holocaust, slavery, the Roman gladiator sports. Our world has a terrible inclination to allow tyrants to rise while turning a blind eye to the oppression of the backbones they build their civilization on.

On the flip side, these books also show that our world can be saved by the greatest attributes humanity possesses. Compassion, love, courage, mercy, sacrifice. When people are subjected to horrifying injustices it is easy to want to cower or hide. It’s simpler to hate or choose vengeance or seek survival for yourself and the ones you love. Especially when you lose time and time again. Haymitch’s story is an example of this.

Initially, he is very much like Katniss and even Peeta. He shares Katniss’ spark, her protectiveness of the weak, and an independence striving to break free from the bondage of the Capital. He is not easily controlled and he wants to hold the Capital accountable for the deaths of his fellow tributes. In addition to these attributes, Haymitch is also shrewd and calculating like Peeta, with an ability to empathize with those who are different from him, and a talent for manipulating words or actions with ease to suit a specific purpose. It’s a beautiful way of showing that by saving Katniss and Peeta in a way Haymitch was saving himself, because he didn’t just lose his girlfriend and family, he lost who he was only to find it again in these two tributes. Haymitch’s story arc in this novel serves as a cautionary tale for Katniss, but his arc in the The Hunger Games trilogy is his redemption.

If you read this far you are absolute aces! Feel free to comment or share your thoughts. I love hearing others POV on these stories, especially as my circle of friends are lame and aren't into this series. 😑 Hope you enjoyed, thank you!

[rhyzist]

When is Enough, Enough?

I normally don’t get political on social media because it’s just asking for an all-out war between people who can’t even see past their own biases. But honestly? I can’t stay quiet anymore. I’m pissed. I’m beyond pissed. This administration, in just two months, has done more damage than I thought humanly possible. It’s like they’re on a mission to dismantle everything that made America remotely decent. It’s not just mistakes—they’re actively tearing down people’s lives, and it’s disgusting.

They’ve made brutal cuts to essential departments, slashed jobs left and right, and appointed a bunch of unqualified, power-hungry, incompetent idiots to lead the most critical aspects of our government. It’s like they went out of their way to find the most clueless misfits possible and handed them the keys to the country. And then they have the audacity to bring in a non-elected puppet to do whatever the hell he wants. How is this even legal? Who approved this circus of corruption and chaos?

And don't get me started on the tariff wars—with CANADA and MEXICO, of all countries! OUR ALLIES! The very countries we’ve always worked with and traded with, and now this administration thinks it’s a great idea to piss them off and start a fight? Brilliant. Just brilliant. They’re making enemies out of friends while cozying up to dictators and lunatics who couldn’t care less about us.

Oh, and now they want to take over the Gaza Strip? Annex Greenland and CANADA? Are they out of their damn minds? What the actual hell are they thinking? Do they think it’s some kind of imperial game where they can just lay claim to whatever the hell they want? What’s next? Declaring the moon as the 52nd state? This isn’t leadership—it’s lunacy.

And meanwhile, back home, legal immigrants—PEOPLE who came here the right way—are being thrown into what amounts to concentration camps at our southern border. They’re ripping families apart and shoving people into overcrowded, inhumane conditions while smugly claiming they’re “protecting the nation.” Protecting it from what? People looking for a better life?

The cost of living is still a nightmare. Remember all those promises to make groceries more affordable? Eggs are still insanely priced. Gas is through the roof. Nothing has improved, and they’re acting like it’s a victory parade. And to top it all off, they’re ignoring a MASSIVE security breach involving Signal texts that could be a national security disaster. No one is stepping up to address it. They’re too busy lining their pockets and power-tripping to give a damn.

And the press secretary? An absolute trainwreck. The most condescending, vile, and arrogant spokesperson I’ve ever seen. She treats journalists and the American people like garbage, and yet somehow, she’s still there, holding that position like it’s her birthright. Every time she opens her mouth, it’s just more lies and twisted narratives. It’s exhausting.

I genuinely don’t know how MAGA supporters can look at this mess and feel pride. I don’t know how they can stand by this madness while real, hardworking Americans are losing jobs, losing hope, losing everything they worked for. I watch videos of people breaking down because they can’t afford to put food on the table, and it breaks my heart. It makes me so damn angry because none of this had to happen. This administration isn’t fixing anything—they’re wrecking it all and pretending it’s progress.

I used to have hope. I used to think my vote meant something. I voted for Obama because he inspired me. I voted for Bernie because he gave me hope for change. I voted for Hillary because I didn’t want to see America go down this path. I voted for Biden because I thought he could stabilize things. I even voted for Harris, hoping for progress. But now? It feels like none of it mattered. It feels like this was rigged from the start, and we’re just puppets in someone else’s twisted show.

Elon Musk practically bought this administration for his own personal gain. That’s why he’s got this orange puppet wrapped around his finger, doing whatever the hell he wants. We’ve got 46 more months of this nightmare, and it feels like an eternity. We’re just watching America burn while the ones responsible throw gasoline on the flames.

And where are the Democrats? Where are the leaders who are supposed to fight back? Why isn’t anyone stepping up and speaking out with passion and purpose? Why aren’t they rallying people, pushing back with real force? Are they too scared, or do they just not care anymore? Because I’m not seeing any fire, any fight, any damn urgency from anyone who should be standing up for the people.

Every day, I wake up hoping to hear that someone finally did what needed to be done and took one for the team to eliminate the threat. Sometimes, I go back to sleep just hoping I’ll wake up to good news—news that maybe someone finally stopped this madness. Because at this point, it feels like nobody is going to save us.

I’m tired. I’m angry. I’m losing hope. The America I believed in is slipping away, and it’s being replaced by this cruel, corrupt machine that doesn’t care about the people it’s supposed to serve. And I’m done pretending it’s okay. I don’t see myself voting anymore because it’s all so rigged and pointless.

America is a goddamn dumpster fire right now, and our allies are stepping back, watching us implode while the orange man keeps pushing for more power, more control, even talking about a third term. Martial law? Probably coming. And when it does, maybe people will finally wake the hell up and see what’s been right in front of them this whole time.

I’m just exhausted from feeling helpless while everything good about this country gets ripped apart. I don’t know how to keep caring when every day feels like another blow to our sanity and our souls.

[casuallyanidiot]

Ok, first of your yandere stories are to DIE FOR. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAAAH! I'M SO GLAD I FOUND YOU.

and second of all, I can't get enough of that scummy asshat Danny(as fcked up as that is). My mind just makes up this what ifs scenarios and I just had to ask--

- you mentioned that Danny liked her for years now, assuming it went back all the way to their highschool years, and his pride of being seen with someone as her kept him from acting up, i was wondering WHAT IF someone (another yandere perhaps?) just suddenly appears and swoops(or attempts) to swoop her away? (kinda like a yandere!city boy v.s. yandere!farmboy AAAH)

- and with the main story with Daniel, what if some guy (a or THE yandere!city boy maybe) comes knocking in the [Last Name] house's doorstep, claiming that he was the one who did that to her that night and is planning to take full responsibility? What will Daniel do?

-AND finally, what if they're married right? And like yandere!city boy or maybe yandere!business man, takes an interest on her despite knowing she's already married?

Sorry, it's a lot, my mind just can't stop running right now 💀 , no pressure in answering of course! Just curious on what the scenarios would be if those were to happen and also again, I love your yandere stories and characters so much AHH and I haven't even read the rest yet! 💖💖

Having someone from outside of the community around who is interested in the reader would certainly shake things up. Compared to Danny, Yandere City Boy isn't well trusted by the town. It's not that he's bad or mistreated, but there's an air of mystery about him that people don't really like. No family background, nothing to base opinions off of... he's a black hole in terms of reputation.

A large part of Danny's control over the reader is the fact that she has no one to turn to, so if the Yandere City Boy shows up and suddenly starts pursuing her, it means that there's at least one avenue that she has to escape him.

Not only would Danny be jealous, but he'd be afraid of losing for the first time.

He'd be furious that someone besides himself even thought of Reader in that way. She's supposed to be his secret, his girl that he chases in his mind. All these years of hard work go out the window if some asshole city dweller who doesn't know his head from his ass goes and fucks it all up.

If yandere City boy tried to pursue the reader back in high school, then Danny would've acted sooner. He might inform your folks that some strange guy is sniffing around, or he might just go full throttle and try to get you to date him instead of some random guy who doesn't deserve you.

I think Danny would also feel surprisingly secure if he had already married reader when the Yandere City Boy turned up. Like, he's already gotten her so far under his control at that point that he doesn't even fathom that she could still dream of being away from him. I think he'd genuinely believe the reader loved him back, or at least appreciated the life he gave them enough to not leave. Of course, his arrogance could then lead to her actually getting stolen.

Danny would be the most livid if the City boy tried to claim that he was the one who got the reader pregnant. In Danny's eyes, he was the one who put in all that effort into finally catching you. I mean, it's perfect for him. You're in a tough spot, no one else believes you, and you have no one else to turn to but him. It's literally years of pining and desperation spun into one sinister plot that he's finally caught you in, and someone else is taking credit? No way. Not on his watch.

I think he'd try to spin it in a different way. Like, you said someone forced themselves on you right? Well if the City boy is claiming he's the father of your baby, then he must be the one who did such horrible things to you!

Danny would use his family's influence and money to make it so that your very own words would be twisted against the City boy, and the crime would be pinned on him instead. I think he'd really get his hands dirty in that scenario and try to get rid of his competition for certain. And hey, while he's locked away in jail, wouldn't it be terrible if something happened to him?

But yeah I think Danny would honestly respond to a rival differently based on how far along he was in his plan on obtaining the reader.

[congratufuckyoulations]

Something Sweet🍰

Sanji x reader, sanji x fem reader, idk lol

a/n: Now hear me out. I’m like at the end of punk hazard and they show the library basically. I thought nami was posed all cute and I was like imagine a fanfic where the reader is chillin in the library idk doing sum and like sanji just entertains his girl while she is relaxing. Idk it’s my first fanfic. I was faded writing this. Lowkey still am. Erm reader does smoke cigarettes so igs don’t read if you don’t smoke…… or condone it. ALSO LOWKEY KINDA LONG BUT NOT REALLY IDK IM NEW TO THIS also just pretend the windows can open BTW

Tw- smoking cigarettes , drugs mentioned?? Idk suggestive content

Also I do not promote smoking cigarettes even if I do partake in the Za. Two very different things but also like smoking is like attractive to me since I do as well and there’s HONESTLY NOT ENOUGH fanfics involving my mans cigarettes and like if I was there I would want a puff here and there yk like shit anyways give me a chance💔 anyways I just wanted a fanfic with smoking so I made one RELEASEEE ME

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

-when reading also just imagine these fan drawings too. Yummm the shirt. Also obsessed with this dam song like actually delish and I think it’s cutesy with the fanfic. Def not as long as the fanfic reading time but whateves. Enjoy 😛

It’s a bright afternoon in the New World. On these open oceans, the weather always changing so quickly. The straw hats learned to take advantage of the clear weather and cool breezes like today. The sun beams down on The sunny on this hot summer day.

The crew is all finding their way to cope with the intense sun rays beaming on them. The breeze barely being enough help to cool them off. Chopper lays on the deck sprawled out. His little chest rose up and down with the heat. Chopper couldn’t stand the sun and made it known that he was NOT born for the heat. Nami and Robin are not too far away taking advantage of the sunny day to relax and maybe even get a tan. Zoro working out somewhere mumbling something about how the heat makes the “workout” better. Luffy and Usopp doing who knows what. The rest of the crew is off doing what they know best which will probably lead to chaos soon. Most of them trying to relax on a beautiful day without a care in the world. Sanji soon erupts from the kitchen

“NAMI-SWANN, ROBINN-SWANNN I made y’all a refreshing drink for the most refreshing women I know”. His voice is loud and clear and can be heard across the deck. As the blonde comes spinning down the steps until he’s in front of the two lovely ladies. Robin thanked the chef sending him a smile before she looked back at her book in hand. The sudden burst from Sanji had caught the attention of a stray Luffy, Usopp, and Brook to appear. The three planning to get these refreshing drinks whether Sanji likes it or not. Sanji already yelling at the trio about how they can get their own in the kitchen.

“Hey Sanji, can you fetch Y/N she’s been in the library all morning. I wanted to talk about all the clothes we got from Fishman Island. We haven’t had the time with punk hazard and everything.” Nami speaks up. Lifting her sunglasses to look over at Sanji. Now this action usually would’ve sent Sanji into a full nosebleed. With the way, she looked in the sun. Making dead eye contact with him. Her classic teal bikini tied perfectly. Nami's pants were replaced with jean shorts to adjust to the weather. Her orange hair tied back into her signature high ponytail. But Sanji's mind was elsewhere. The thought of you now distracting him. How could he forget about you? Sanji thought back on this morning and how he didn’t see you at breakfast. His mind did not ever think to check the library. Now that he knew where you were thanks to Nami. He just had to go take you the drink. Sanji couldn’t help but let his mind wonder at how you would smile and thank him for the drink. Chills run up and down his spine.

Then he’s off in an instant with a beeline to the library. Ready to get that reaction he imagined. Walking towards the library entrance he smelt the familiar smoke from a cigarette. The smell wafting through the library hatch confirmed you were indeed in fact where Nami said you would be. Realizing that the ladder down to the library was about to make this a whole lot more difficult with the drink in hand. The cook thought to himself about how thirsty you must be. Feeling suddenly determined to deliver the drink. He worked his magic to get down the ladder without a single spill. Once off the ladder on his two feet, he turned around. His mind was quickly distracted from the ladder situation by the excitement of seeing the library lit up by the sunlight pooling through the windows. And you sat at the table in the middle of the room. Sanji felt himself smile and his back straightened out. His stomach doing flips. Sanji didn't even notice his heart rate quicken at the sight of you. Sanji stood by the ladder with the tray in hand admiring the girl in front of him. You had this way of making it hard for him to think straight. You were sat with your back to the door. Your left elbow leaning on the table as your right elbow also rests on the table with your cigarette in hand (like how Nami is sitting in the pic) you had a book opened in front of you with a couple of other ones stacked by you.

There you sat peering down at the book in front of you focused. Leftover smoke floats in the room from the previous cigarettes you smoked. The room was a little too smokey but nothing he couldn’t handle. The smoke danced beautifully in the air. The way it flowed often became a topic of admiration between you and Sanji during smoke sessions. Sanji approaches you after a second of admiring you. He knows it sounds creepy but he enjoyed watching you from afar. When you thought nobody was looking but he always was. Seeing how your face reacts to different situations. Or how you respond when put in random predicaments. He was completely captivated by you. He wanted to learn so much more about you. Even if that meant seeming like a creep for staring

“Mon Amour~, what are you doing in here all alone on such a hot day? Is it not too hot in here for you, my sweet?” Sanji speaks up as he approaches the table slowly. Passing up the books lining the shelves. The smell of the cigarette you hold becomes more intense the closer he approaches, but it’s all too familiar to Sanji for him to care.

At the sound of Sanji's voice, your focus is pulled away from the book in front of you. Your head turns and tilts to look up at Sanji as he stands by the table. Suddenly his heart is picking up again with how gorgeous you are. Now you aren’t all dressed up. This was better for Sanji. He’s seeing you in your relaxing around the boat loungewear. Today’s outfit includes a white tank top and some white and light blue striped shorts. Your slippers that you wore around the boat discarded under the table. Legs cross under the table trying to sit comfortably. It was a joy for Sanji to see the different outfits you wore. He liked to see what you would pull together and casually pull off. His eyes try not to travel anywhere too far. He can’t help but be taken aback by how relaxed you were just reading in the library on this hot day. The smoke in the room does not make the summer heat any more bearable.

“no Sanji I’m okay. I cracked the windows open for the breeze. also because of the smoke in here” you say as you tilt your head back down to the book to look at the poorly drawn picture of a cake in it.

“I see, I made everybody drinks since it’s so hot out today. Here’s yours my sweet~” Sanji coos as he places the tray on the table. Sanji sits down in the chair to the left of you. The way he slouches in the chair like he’s melting due to the heat catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Not wanting to look at him right away as if somebody was around to catch you staring. You instead look up from the book to the drink placed in the center of the table. Examining the drink before bringing it closer and taking a sip of the orange-flavored drink. Now allowing your eyes to travel to the left to see Sanji's head tilted back looking at the ceiling completely relaxed. You wonder if he had a hard day. It was pretty hot today and cooking anything in the heat seems like torture. Maybe not so much a drink but still. You wince at the thought of cooking soup on a hot day and the steam hitting your face. You shake your head clearing the horrid thought. Focusing your eyes back on the cook next to you. It was clear Sanji thought you would’ve been looking at the book instead of at him. The way he just sprawled himself out on the chair was enough to stare. He was sat with no care in the world. Your eyes widen slightly seeing the usually perfect posture chef slouched without a care in the world. It was a sight to see Sanji so relaxed. As if it was only him in the library. And this wasn’t a bad sight for you.

The way his classic blue button-up shirt had 2 buttons undone and his black tie was loose. The sweat dripping down his neck down into his shirt leaving the rest to your imagination. His blonde hair was a little damp. Some pieces sticking to his forehead. Hell Sanji looked a complete mess. But he was a work of art. Sanji from the start was attractive to you. Maybe it was his looks or the charm that came along with him. But You couldn’t place your finger on what it was about the chef. Was it the way he carried himself? Or How he cared for others? You didn’t know and at this moment you still don’t know. But god right now he looked breathtaking even when he was sweating all over the place. This whole interaction was cut short when you spoke up, remembering there was a conversation in place

“Thank you for the drink Sanji. I couldn’t imagine being in a kitchen during this heat. You're our savior~ ”

you tease, still letting the image of soup on a hot day replay in your mind. Sanji lets out a breathy laugh lifting his head to see your attention is still on the book. Not realizing you had just looked away only moments ago. But now you have the straw of the drink in your mouth. And the drink is no longer in the middle of the table. Instead, it’s sitting closer to you. Your attention is glued to the book. He couldn’t help but smile at how cute you looked with the straw in your mouth completely concentrated on whatever you were reading. Enjoying the drink HE made. Being here with you……in silence?

WAIT! What were you reading? What was so important in this book? Sanjis mind was up and quick to see what’s got your attention. His eyes traveled down to the book and leaning over a little closer to see you looking at a cookbook. A cookbook about cakes? Examining the page closer and seeing a recipe for a strawberry shortcake written inside. Sanji recalls the sweet treat being one of your favorite and most requested desserts from him.

He looks up at you with his curly eyebrows raised in confusion. Your head lifts to be met with his confused gaze. You let out a laugh at how confused the chef was. He looked like this was the biggest moment of his life. Like the world is ending if you don’t eat his food. God forbid somebody else cooks for you.

“Don’t worry Sanji I just wanted to learn how to make strawberry shortcake since it’s my favorite. I was writing down the ingredients but I guess I got carried away with other desserts as well. Besides, you know you’re the only chef in my heart~”

You let out a soft laugh taking a quick drag from the cigarette in your right hand. Soon the cigarette appeared closer in Sanji's vision. His eyes shifted down to the cigarette being handed over. A normal occurrence between the two since Y/N has joined the crew. The two bonded during late nights watching over the boat. Having many conversations over shared cigarettes. When times were stressful the two would just stick to their cigarettes. Both use the nicotine-filled sticks as a source of relief. Enjoying the company of somebody else who also smokes was always nice.

You spoke once again. Dragging Sanji away from the memories to the heat of the present day.

“I thought it would be nice to learn how to bake something. I never really took too much interest in cooking growing up so maybe it’s time to learn something” You wanted to learn how to make a strawberry shortcake? That’s why you were down here away from the others. He smiles at the thought of you cooking. The thought of you in his natural element is almost like a fever dream. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. Enjoying the sound of your crew members' laughter flowing through the windows (Probably at something Luffy did)The sunlight hitting your skin perfectly through the windows in the library. The sun shows your damp skin and the sweat dripping down the side of your neck. The drink has dropped halfway with you being dehydrated on such a hot day. Sanji brings the cigarette up to his mouth. Sanjis's heart skips a beat but he can’t show how happy he is to be sharing another one of a hundred indirect kisses with you. Sanji wondered if this wasn’t heaven then it was definitely a close second. As he blew out the smoke he passed the cigarette over. You happily accept taking another drag while looking toward the windows. Letting the smoke crawl its way down to your lungs. Admiring the view of the sea out the window

“Well if you’re so interested I would be honored to teach you princess~” Sanji mentions through the smoke flowing out of his mouth.

Your eyes find their way from the sea to his blue eyes. The two are not much different from each other. You smile as you blow the smoke off to the side. Doing your best to avoid the smoke getting in the blondes face. Not like the chef cares being all too familiar with the smoke.

“And I’d be honored if our amazing cook taught me as well. Honestly, it would be easier than doing it by book” you say taking another hit and standing up from the chair. Sanjis's head quickly tilts up watching your next move. The way you stand up with your left hand closing the book while your right has the cigarette in it. Your right hand is held at the level of your face for an easy hit of the cigarette. You stack the book on top of the others laid out on the table.

(Remember Sanji is sitting on the left chair and you were in namis spot. Use the pic as reference I tried my hardest💔)

You had pushed your chair back with your legs once you stood up. Which allowed you to easily slide by and make your way to the window on the left side of the library. Your hand glides along the back of Sanji's shoulders as you walk by causing the chair to spin. As Sanji spins around in the chair to face you at the window. He sees you looking down at the built-in couches by the window. You sit on the couch by the window. Your legs are tucked under you as you sit on your knees. Your arms cross on the window seal and you lean your head down onto them. You take a moment to look out the window and examine the ocean while it’s calm. Inhaling the smell of the salty ocean and the soft mist from the waves that crash against the sunny.

You glance back at Sanji seeing him still in the chair. Standing up from the cushion you make your way over to Sanji. Sanji tilts his head up as you get closer towering over his slouched frame. Watching you lean over the table to put the cigarette out on the ashtray. His legs spread open lazily as you welcome yourself to step between them. Sanji sits up with how close you get and can’t help his hands from meeting your hips. His face comes close to your chest looking directly into your eyes like you’re a god who blessed him.

Your hands find their way to the sides of his face. Cradling the cook's face and feeling the stubble he’s grown over the past two years. His hands find their way around your torso and soon you’re wrapped in his arms as you stand in front of him. You sit like this for a second. Both of y’all just enjoying each other’s touch. Letting it all sink in. Making sure it hits every bone in your body. Sanji knew this would end soon. Often knowing this might not ever go anywhere. And he was right as you slowly pulled away from the blonde. His arms loosen up and fall. Until you grab both of his hands swiftly and drag him backward to the window.

Oh, you wanted him to sit with you. You wanted him to stay even longer than he ever had. He just didn’t know that yet. Sanji let this gesture go straight to his head. The way you pulled him to stay. It made him feel so valued. The windows were decently small so when you sat on the right side of the couch and he sat on the left there was not much space between y’all.

It would seem so silly if anybody walked in and saw Sanji sitting on his knees with you in the same position. Especially on the built-in couch with both of you looking out the window. But it was also very cute. The two of you sitting so close on the corner of the couch just to look out the same window. Both sitting arms crossed on the window seal with your heads resting on them like y’all are both ready to nap in the odd position. Your head facing the left and his face to the right. Both directly looking at each other just smiling. Like two idiots who just did drugs for the first time

“Love, have I ever told you how breathtaking you are~” Sanji coos like always making you laugh. Of course, that’s what he says after a moment of silence. Never missing a moment to flatter a girl.

“Now I might’ve heard that a couple of times” you spoke pretending you weren’t affected by the comment. It was moments like this when you wanted you and Sanji to quit playing games. Maybe just get together. The two of you laugh at the response as Sanji props himself up on his elbow pulling the pack of cigarettes out from his pocket and pulling one out. It’s like he could read your mind.

You watch as the man next to you places the stick between his lips. Now smoking may not be good but Sanji made it look like the best thing ever. You watched as his left hand came up to cup the cigarette. Blocking the breeze that’s passing by. While he sparked his lighter with his right. The lighter soon caught flame and watching the smoke emerge from the front of the cigarette. As his right-hand drops to stuff the lighter into his pocket. The left pulls the cigarette out of his mouth you stare at him in awe. Such a simple act was captivating to you. You smiled at this side of Sanji. This was full authentic Sanji. Just him enjoying a cigarette. And with a beautiful lady at that.

“You know, I would be okay if I woke up to this,” you say out of the blue. Sanjis's head snaps to you. How is he supposed to react to you saying something like this? You both stare at each other for a second. Sanji was taken aback. Until he finally spoke up

“I would be okay waking up to you too” and with that, the both of you seemed to just go back to looking out the window. Like y’all understood each other completely and no other further explanation was needed. Sanjis's right hand with the cigarette appears in your vision as you stare out the window. Too lazy at the moment to want to grab it. You lean forward and take a drag while he holds it out for you. Pulling away from the cigarette inhaling the smoke and letting it float away to who knows where. You look back at Sanji.

“Would you take me seriously Sanji?”

You ask softly

“What do you mean, my love?”

Sanji questions. Hoping this will lead to something serious and not just some talking point. Of course, he took you seriously, but he prayed you meant this in a relationship way.

“You know like if we tried to give this a shot would I be taken seriously”

You explain. Your gaze back out the window too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. Only looking down at his hand when passing the cigarette back. Sanjis stares at you as you look out the window.

“Mon amour, of course, I will take you seriously. Honestly, this whole time I’ve been serious about being with you. I’ve just been waiting for you to let me take the opportunity” Sanji states taking a long drag after hoping the smoke will somehow drown out the feeling of how nervous he is right now. You turn your head to look at Sanji smiling at him. You take the cigarette back once again looking out the window and taking a hit.

“Well, here's your opportunity Mr. Prince” you tease as you glance to your left at him. You loved the nickname since the chef did act as charming as a prince would (I wonder why) and the nickname from from Alabasta seemed to stick as a tease for you at least. It was well-suited for somebody like Sanji.

He can't help but cheese at the name-calling. It was always so carefree with you and natural. Sanji craved every inch of that. As both of you are now again face to face giggling. His laugh falters as his right-hand finds your cheek and cups it.

“I promise you I will take full advantage of this opportunity and not mess up even once” Sanji declares. You laugh at the seriousness of the cook but you admire how serious somebody is willing to be for you.

“I’d like to see it~” you smile back at him. The two of you leaning in close. Faces only inches apart and you can both smell the cigarette on each other's breath.

“HAVE YOU SERIOUSLY BEEN FLIRTING WITH Y/N THIS WHOLE TIME SANJI” Nami screams as she hits Sanji over the head. A red bump forms on the cook's head. You two had got so carried away with each others company. Sanji forgot why he was even down here in the first place.

“Oh come on nami leave Sanji alone he was just with me” you reply while playfully wiggling your eyes and taking a hit to blow out the window. Sanji leaned over in your lap cradling his head. Recovering from the blow he took to his head.

“Yeah don’t think I’m not PISSED at you too. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE TRYING ON CLOTHES WITH ME THIS WHOLE TIME!” nami burst out her whole face turning bright red again. You swear you see fire in her eyes for a second. You lean back as she points her finger at you.

“Yeah yeah, so can we go try them on now then?”

Namis quick to straighten up her act going back to innocent, can do no harm, Nami.

“Of course Y/N let’s go I bought so many cute clothes from Fish Men Island” Nami squeals in excitement at the thought of a fashion show happening in her room.

“You didn't buy them nami. You scammed Pappug for like a whole store” Usopp corrects as his head pops down from the entrance of the library peeping in. Nami’s head snaps behind her. Soon she is off to chase after the boy who called out her tricks. You laugh at the sight of Nami rushing up the ladder to assault another one of your crewmates. You look back at Sanji who is also coming down from a laugh.

“Besides them. I promise you we will have an official dinner and everything. But for now my dear, you go and have fun with Nami I’ll have everything prepared when you’re done. How does that sound, my love~” Sanji coos once again. You can’t help but burst into a smile as you grab the blonde's face. Giving him a passionate kiss your hands traveling back into his hair pulling him closer. His hands grab your waist to stabilize you. As you practically threw yourself on top of him.

“Sanji, my love how will I refrain from falling in love too fast~” you tease once again while pulling away. Kissing the cook on both of his cheeks before landing a peck on his lips. Pulling away you stand up pulling him up with you.

“It’s always okay if you do, mon amour. I’ll take good care of you”

He says with his hands resting on your waist. Your back was to the table as you both stood facing each other. Remembering the books you laid out have to be put back up. You go to turn back and clean up the mess. But Sanji was there turning you to face the ladder instead. He’s now behind you guiding you to the ladder. His hands find their way to your lower back giving you a gentle push to walk toward the ladder.

“Don’t worry princess I’ll put the books away~” he whispers into your ear from behind. Making you turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. Hugging the blonde before you hang out with your

(girl😏)friends.

“And it’s gonna keep getting better than this? (😛)” you joke pulling away and turning to climb up the ladder

“Yes ma’am, it will all be worth it”

Sanji says from the side of the ladder. Watching you climb up the ladder making sure nothing magically happens to you. Thinking you already walked away. Sanji turned to walk back to the table. His attention on the books you had brought out durning the day: When you lay on your stomach by the hatch. Head leaning down into the hole that leads to the library.

“Bye Sanji~” you say while very obviously waving at him in a flirting manner. Like you had the biggest crush on him. He turns his head, his eyes catching your head leaning down into the hole. He laughs seeing you upside down and raises his hand returning the wave. Even though he was a flirt he couldn’t help but feel beat at his own game.

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The end yay. I wrote this in one night so bear with meeeeee uhm yay. They gave SANJI a cigarette for a reason and imma include it everytimeee