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peachdues · 7 months ago

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THE WIND AND MOON

PROLOGUE ♢ SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER

A/N: oh boy! The fic that started it all is back in progress (with a slight title change).

This will be a slightly canon-divergent AU, wherein Lunar Breathing is inherited and there's actually some power involved with the breathing techniques as a whole (as opposed to the styles just being nice sword movements with illustrations lmao).

Reader will be Sanemi's tsuguko for a time, and she will eventually become a Hashira. This is their story.

This will be a multi-part fic. Be warned: the Reader is a very morally gray character (but we love her for it).

@ghost-1-y thank you for reminding me of my love for this fic.

Massive CW: 18+, canon-typical violence, graphic violence, gore, child death, and implied S/A. Smut to come. MDNI.

Sanemi was there that day; the day she became part of the Corps.

The day her world ended.

It was fucking freezing that morning. The sky was a muted gray as snow drifted down from the heavens in wet, fat clumps. It had started sometime the previous night, and by the morning, the village had been covered in its thick blanket.

The carnage, however, was fresh, and so the snow was not white.

Only an hour had passed since the watery gray light of dawn bled into the sky from the east, when Sanemi’s crow swooped low over his head, tugging frantically at his hair. Beside him, the Flame Pillar ducked as his own crow joined the panic.

“Northeast! Northeast! Right at the base of the mountain! A horde of demons attacked the village!” They cried in tandem.

Not just one. A horde. A swarm of demons had descended upon a moderately populated merchant village, tearing it and its people to shreds.

Both the Wind and Flame Pillars furiously made their way northeast, one of the crows bleating that Tengen and Iguro were also en route. As they ran, the birds alternated in snaring what little information they had of the village, and what had prompted the attack.

It was because of her; or rather, her family.

The head of the village was a merchant known for his imports from the West. His success meant the village prospered as a whole, and it was popular for its numerous small shops and tea houses which lined the streets, always crowded with locals and travelers alike.

Demons had no use for money or exotic baubles; but Muzan Kibutsuji had a keen interest in obliterating Lunar Breathing from the world.

So he had.

The very merchant whose business prowess bolstered the local economy with his imports was directly descended from the clan which had created Lunar Breathing, Breath of Sun’s powerful, dark twin. The merchant was the youngest and only living relative of the aging head of the Lunar Clan, a retired Hashira who’d never taken a wife. But unlike the other breathing techniques, Lunar Breathing was an inherited talent, and without an heir, there would be no one to continue the great family’s legacy.

That burden was thus placed on the surviving eldest child of the merchant whose village both Sanemi and his comrade now rushed to.

There had been an elder son, Rengoku’s crow revealed, but he had died a few years prior from illness. And so, the merchant’s middle child was made the new heir, tasked with the mission of becoming a demon slayer so that she could continue on the Lunar Breathing tradition.

Her.

There was no word as to whether she had been present for the attack. Final Selection ended only a few days prior, and it was entirely possible that she either had been killed on the Mountain, or that she was still making her way back to the village, unaware that no one would be there to welcome her home.

There was certainly no greeting for the Pillars when they finally arrived at the mountain’s base. The village was eerily silent as Sanemi and Rengoku crossed over the small bridge abutting its ravine; still. Dawn had given way to a dark gray sky, and visibility was not ideal.

Not that it would’ve taken much effort to see the blood and gore that littered the village’s once lively streets.

“What on earth?” The Sound Pillar’s familiar voice broke the silence, as he and Iguro approached their comrades from the Eastern gate of the village. Behind them, trailed a group of nearly thirty Kakushi.

The Hashira slowly took in the nightmare around them, stunned into horrified silence as they beheld the level of destruction which had befallen the village just hours before.

“Kakushi. Spread out. Look for any survivors. They may be buried or hiding.” Rengoku’s voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard. “Shinuzagawa, we should make our way to the Lunar Merchant’s estate. We need to send word to the Clan head right away if-“

“You didn’t hear?” Iguro interjected. “The head of the Lunar House is dead.” Though the lower half of his face was covered, the anguish on the Serpent Pillar’s face was evident. “That’s where Uzui and I just came from. He was ripped to shreds.”

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, a toxic mixture of anger, guilt roiling in his gut. An entire clan — and entire village— had been decimated in a matter of hours, and no one had been able to protect them.

They hadn’t been able to protect them.

“Have we any word on the Lunar heir?” Rengoku asked quietly. Iguro and Uzui shook their heads. “Then she likely is lost, too.” The Flame Pillar turned back to Sanemi, his face a mirror of his own. “Let’s go.”

The snow and wind picked up just as the two swordsmen approached the Lunar Merchant’s manor, obscuring part of the wreckage before them. From the corner of his eye, Sanemi swore he spied movement out of the back corner of the estate, but when he turned to examine it, all was still.

Beflre he could inquire further, a sharp gasp to his right snapped his attention back to the Pillar at his side. But Rengoku was not looking at him; rather, he was staring directly ahead, right to the courtyard of the manor.

“Heavens above,” the Flame Hashira whispered.

Sanemi followed his gaze through what had been once-proud iron gates, though only half of it remained hinged. The other had been ripped from its stone setting, twisted by some unfathomable strength and thrown carelessly to the side. Just past the gate, Sanemi beheld a single, bloodied arm.

His heart dropped sickeningly to his stomach at what lay beyond it; for there was not an inch of ground that hadn’t been saturated with blood and bits of gore.

Chunks of flesh and torn limbs bearing harsh jagged teeth marks were strewn across the snowy garden. Broken glass and wood from the manor littered the ground, and the few walls that remained standing had been showered in a thick coat of crimson.

But the carnage did not end with the massacre on the courtyard. Sanemi forced himself to look upon the half-severed bodies of those who’d been stuck to the sloped roofing of the Manor, as though some demon had plucked fleeing humans from the yard to feast on them mid-air, adorning the handsome estate with a shower of bloodied entrails.

He did not notice the small group of Kakushi that had arrived at the Manor until he heard their gasps and cries of horror. Behind him, Sanemi heard one or two begin to retch, unable to stomach the carnage before them.

“Move!” Sanemi barked, his voice scratchy over the lump forming in his throat. “Fucking look for survivors! Anyone!”

A few paces ahead, Rengoku called up to the crows checking above. “Do you have a description of the heir?”

“She is around eighteen, Lord Rengoku!”

Not helpful, given that most of the bodies around them were unrecognizable. But it was something.

Rengoku turned back to Sanemi. “I will check inside the house. You!” Rengoku called to a small group of three Kakushi nearby, “With me!”

Sanemi continued to make his way through the debris and body parts in the courtyard, lifting stone and wood in hope that he might find someone — anyone — who had managed to hide. Yet that hope dimmed with every stone he turned, as he found only the scraps of the people who’d once called the Manor home.

He came across a large chunk of curved, chiseled stone that was half-embedded into the soft ground below. Grunting, Sanemi heaved the rock aside, thinking it was perhaps part of some fountain or statue.

His stomach lurched as the stone toppled heavily over. For there, crushed beneath the weight of the rock, was the small body of a child, severed completely at the torso. Her two halves lay next to one another, a ragged seam torn between the two as though pulled apart by force.

Sanemi felt the bile rise in his throat as his gaze fell upon the child’s face, utterly frozen in fear. Though death had snuffed out the light of life from her eyes, it had done nothing to conceal the terror she’d felt in her last moments, the girl’s mouth stretched wide, fixed in her final scream.

She was no older than ten.

He could not help it. Sanemi turned away from the grisly sight and vomited into the snow, every inch of him trembling. He wretched until his stomach was empty and his throat burned from the acid and strain of his dry-heaving.

With great effort, he managed to straighten, his breath short and choppy. But he forced his legs to carry him forward, though any hope that they would find the Lunar Heir or any survivor grew dimmer by the second.

Even as Hashira, Sanemi knew he’d never seen wreckage quite like this.

He neared the center of the courtyard, and halted before a large, circular stone inset that had been smashed to gravel, leaving only a single, large piece of rounded stone wall standing.

Found the fountain, Sanemi thought bitterly. Another sharp, icy gust of wind whipped its way through the courtyard, disturbing the little bit of snow that wasn’t packed down with the carnage. But the wind also stirred up something else, something dark and wispy.

Had the Wind Pillar’s lilac gaze been focused anywhere but that piece of stone, he would have missed it softly fluttering up before disappearing beneath the lip of the fountain.

Lips mashed into a tight line, Sanemi moved to examine the other side of the broken stone. As he did so, Rengoku reappeared on the outer steps of the engawa surrounding the Manor, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Shinazugawa, something is off. The demons’ presence is obvious, but the house looks like it was ransacked— jewels, silks, valuables, all strewn about. Some of it seems to be missing —“

“I found her.” Sanemi bit out, gruffly. “The heir.”

It was her hair, Sanemi realized. Her hair was what had been disturbed by the wind, a few strands having drifted up before settling back down upon the bloodied shoulder of the lifeless girl collapsed before the fountain.

Had there not been a thick spread of red-stained snow and earth beneath her, Sanemi almost would have thought she’d been sleeping. Her face was almost devoid of any injury, save for a few fresh scratches along her jaw and temple. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes tickling a soft, and unblemished cheek, as pale and smooth as the Moon. And there was a serenity to her expression, a calmness that posed a stark contrast to the chaos and horror which surrounded her.

The rest of her had not been left untouched. Sanemi noted that while she appeared to have maintained her limbs, her back was soaked in blood, no doubt the source of the large stain beneath her. Grimly, he noted that her blood still oozed from an unknown wound between her shoulders. Her left arm was stretched out before her, wrist bent at an unnatural angle, its skin mottled from a mixture of the cold and an attempt to bruise before her blood had ceased flowing in her veins.

Beneath the torn and bloodied haori around her shoulders, were a pair of pants and a fitted, long sleeved top which had clearly seen better days. Her clothes hosted various tears and stains, and she was so caked in blood and mud that it was difficult to further discern her body’s condition.

The crows had said the Lunar Heir was around eighteen years of age, but as Sanemi stared at her lifeless form, all he could think about was how small she looked; how young she’d been, when she lost her life to the brutality of demons.

The thought made his blood run cold.

“No doubt this is her,” Rengoku said heavily, nodding at wounds Sanemi had not noticed on her hands. Squinting, the Wind Pillar spied bruises and cuts in various stages of healing dotting her knuckles and fingers.

He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing.

“Final selection wounds,” the Flame Pillar confirmed. “She must have just returned from the mountain when the attack began. Perhaps she even stumbled into the middle of it.” Rengoku shook his head. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

It was well known that even if one survived final selection, they would likely descend the mountain with some degree of injury. Seven nights without access to shelter, food, or water was difficult enough, but the added danger of starving demons almost guaranteed that one would not emerge unscathed.

She must have been wounded, and severely enough to slow her return home by a few days. Even if she had the skill to hold her own against the swarm of demons that had attacked her village, whatever injuries she sustained during final selection likely sealed her fate.

Sanemi swore, looking over the last of the Lunar Breathing Clan, the acrid bite of guilt and pity seeping hotly into his veins. The poor girl survived the controlled horrors of final selection only to meet an even more grisly end at her home — where she was supposed to be safe.

Cruelty; utter cruelty, and a damn tragedy.

“She will get a Slayer’s burial, in the Master’s garden.” Rengoku declared firmly, raising his voice so the nearby Kakushi would hear. “She passed Final Selection; she’s one of us.”

“No,” Sanemi said, voice hoarse. “Bury her here with her family.” His eyes returned to the girl’s face, an inexplicable bitterness coating his tongue. “She fought to return to them; let her be with them.”

He lifted his eyes back up to the ochre gaze of the Flame Pillar. Rengoku stared at him for a long moment, before nodding, turning back to the Kakushi. “You heard Shinazugawa. Let’s give them all a proper burial.”

The Kakushi began to move, thorough and efficient even among the horror around them. Sanemi readied himself to assist, moving to stand when his eyes snagged on the girl’s torso, his gaze drawn to the sizeable swath of smooth skin that was exposed to the icy bite of the snow. His frown deepened as he took note of the odd way that her clothes sat around her exposed abdomen. The girl was half laid on her side, but the front of her shirt was bunched and twisted together, like it had been gathered and shoved out of the way.

His eyes lowered a fraction to the front of the girl’s pants. At first glance, all seemend normal, her trousers fitted at her hips, but that was precisely what caught his eye. The waistband on the girl’s pants slotted across her lower hips, not higher up on her waist as it should have been. One side was noticeably lower than the other, almost as though they’d nearly been tugged off.

Almost as if-

Sanemi felt the hairs on his body rise. Looking over the girl once more, he noted the suspicious lack of claw marks and bite marks to her body; the way that she seemed intact, compared to the bodies of her friends and family scattered in pieces around her.

And her blood — her blood appeared more fresh than what was caked in the snow around them, as though she’d been attacked right before the Corps arrived at the manor’s gate.

“Rengoku,” Sanemi said sharply, and the Flame Hashira was back at his side in an instant. Sanemi jutted his chin toward the girl’s body and Rengoku followed his gaze. He could see the gears turning in his comrade’s head, the owlish Slayer steadily taking note of the odd skew of her clothes and her lack of demon-like injuries.

“How many demons do you know that try to-,” Sanemi ground his teeth at the word that came to mind, his blood boiling hot. “Have their way with victims before eating them?”

“Not many,” Rengoku conceded darkly, a similar anger simmering in his eyes. “Though not unheard of. It is… rare. Most can’t resist their hunger.”

He fell silent for a moment, contemplating.

“Didn’t you say the house had looked ransacked?” Sanemi turned his gaze away from the girl and towards the broken doors of the manor.

Rengoku’s eyes widened. “Yes. As if someone came in and grabbed anything they could.”

Sanemi nodded. “Bandits. Probably heard about the attack and got excited to loot. Found a body that wasn’t completely torn apart by demons and tried to take advantage.”

Rather than bile, Sanemi felt anger, hot and lethal, threatening to spill out of him.

If he found them, they would receive no mercy, human or not.

Rengoku exhaled sharply through his nose, a weariness clouding over his features. “Though I don’t suppose we can really know for sure. There isn’t enough left of anyone else to compare.”

Rengoku clasped his hands in front of himself, and he closed his eyes, offering a small prayer for the girl. “Whatever happened to her, she’s gone now. Let us ensure she can rest.”

He turned to head back to where the Kakushi had begun digging graves for the deceased, leaving Sanemi alone once more.

He’d stared the spot where the girl’s body had lain long after a pair of Kakushi gently removed her to ready her for her burial, watching with hollow eyes and a hollow heart as the one of them — a female — tenderly brushed the girl’s hair from her face and straightened her haori. They’d crossed her arms over her middle and gingerly carried her to join the remains of her family.

Hers was the last of the graves to be prepared. The Kakushi were just beginning to pack the mud and snow over her body when one of them collapsed from exhaustion. The group resolved to take a small water break before finishing, and neither Shinazugawa nor Rengoku had the desire to object.

After all, digging nearly twenty graves was no easy task.

Both Hashira assisted with the effort, and their combined strength and stamina had streamlined the task considerably. While the Kakushi rested, Rengoku departed for the front gates to update Uzui and Iguro, who’d been dealing with the wreckage within the village, assisted by reinforcements of both Kakushi and lower rank slayers called in to assist with the clean up and burial.

In total, over two hundred graves were dug, and not a single survivor had been found.

It was a heavy day — perhaps one of the darkest in the Corp’s history, and its crowning poisoned jewel was the eradication of one of the oldest breathing styles.The news that there was one less defense against the demons was not a welcome one.

Sanemi had gone to the other side of the courtyard, away from the voices and graves and rising stink of death. Out of sight from any prying eyes, he found a tree and shoved his fist through it, clear to the other side. Splinters of bark exploded around his arm and bit into the skin around his knuckles and palm, but Sanemi could not find it in himself to care; he sought only to break through the silent numbness threatening to consume him.

Because he’d taken refuge on the other side of the courtyard, away from the new burial site, Sanemi did not see the hand and arm that shoved through the pile of earth resting atop the last grave. He did not see clawed fingers sinking into the mud and snow, desperately seeking purchase as the body attached to the arm hauled itself — herself — from beneath the earth, the remnants of her grave skittering to the side as she heaved her body out.

Sanemi did hear the terrified shriek of the Kakushi, and immediately he drew his sword. In the distance, he could hear Rengoku roaring orders at the terrified attendants, though he could not discern the specifics.

The Wind Pillar came into view of the gravesite right as the girl spilled out from the hole in the ground, using her bare hands to pull herself forward as the rest of her body remained limp.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a pious man; in fact, he considered himself rather skeptical of the idea of faith. If there were truly any gods out there, then Sanemi wanted nothing to do with them. They chose to let chaos and devastation run rampant. They chose to let demons exists.

But hell apparently had frozen over, and Sanemi found himself offering a prayer for the girl’s forgiveness as he prepared to behead her demonized form. He hoped she would understand; after all, she’d joined the Corps intending to rid of the world of the very thing she’d now become.

It was what he hoped one his his fellow Hashira would do for him, if he ever found himself in that situation.

As the Swordsman cocked his blade, ready to strike the crawling demon from behind, Rengoku cried out. “Shinazugawa, NO!”

Sanemi stuttered, his arm in mid-swing as he neared the demon’s neck. A flash of violet and white shot towards him, and a piercing shriek of metal tore through the sky as Uzui’s blade parried his, the force of the clash knocking him out of the air. A frustrated grunt echoed from his chest, and with great effort, Sanemi twisted mid-air to avoid falling flat on his ass, just barely managing to land swiftly on the balls of his feet.

“What the fuck,-“ His vicious snarl faltered at the expression on the Flame Hashira’s face, frozen and gaping. In that moment, Sanemi’s ears picked up on the faint thumping of a heart beating rapidly and unevenly below him. His nose suddenly burned with the strong scent of iron. The stench of blood so metallic that it could not have been anything but fresh.

Ears ringing, the Wind Pillar shoved past his stupefied comrades. Only when he was face to face with her did Sanemi finally understand why the Flame Pillar had been so desperate to stop his sword from hitting its mark.

The three Hashira were not looking at a newly turned and bloodthirsty demon. Instead, dragging her way across the bloodstained, muddied snow, was the Lunar Heir, deathly pale and trembling..

The girl whose death they feared doomed the Lunar Breathing House had clawed her way out from her grave with nothing but her hands and sheer will. She’d not been dead, after all.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes lifted to glare up at the one standing directly before her. Though she strained to raise her head more than half an inch, her silver eyes met Sanemi’s lavender gaze, and a violent chill shot up his spine as he beheld what simmered within them.

Defiance.

Pain.

Rage. So, so much rage, relentless and raw. And so very human.

She reached another quivering hand out before her to further drag herself away from her tomb. A thin sheen of sweat coated her pallid skin, and fresh crimson began to seep into the snow beneath her.

Sanemi’s eyes flit to the stain on her back, where fresh blood oozed from the deep wound.

She was panting, clearly fighting every urge in her body to give in, to let death beckon her back into its sweet embrace.

“I-I’m not dead!” She grit out in between shallow, uneven breaths, her jaw clenched tightly enough to crack her teeth.

The three Hashira remained dumb and silent for half a heartbeat before-

“What are you all standing there for?” Uzui bellowed. “Help her!”

The Kakushi sputtered into action, several of them crouching down around the girl to aid her.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, eyes screwed shut and her head bowed defensively over her hands as she clenched her fists into the earth. The Kakushi fell back, looking anxiously to the Pillars to await further orders, but even they were at a loss. After several, harsh breaths through her nose, the Lunar Heir turned her face up, her gaze clashing with Sanemi’s once more.

He recognized the fear in her eyes, visceral and deep. Whatever she’d experienced over the last few hours had overtaken all her senses. She had no logic, no ability to rationalize that she was among other humans, among comrades.

Instead, all that drove her now was the primal instinct to survive.

And to her, they were another threat.

She continued to try and crawl away from them, but her movements grew even shakier, more unstable, as the blood loss combined with her physical exhaustion. Rengoku caught his comrades’ eyes, waiting to confirm their next move.

A quick shared nod sent Sanemi stepping quietly into her blindspot. Swiftly, the Wind Pillar struck the pressure point on the back of the woman’s neck with his hand, and she crumpled against the ground, unconscious and still. Gingerly, Sanemi lifted her over his shoulder, mindful of the open wound on her back.

Once she was secured, the Hashira and their Kakushi began their frantic sprint toward the Butterfly Mansion.

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sukirichi · 4 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away. You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

“Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

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just-jordie-things · 9 months ago

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let the light in - ryomen sukuna

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 15.5k warnings: mentions of fighting and injuries, reader has a cursed technique but i don't describe it bc i'm lazy, she's actually pretty weak in this ngl i needed her to be a bit of a damsel in distress. sukuna is pretty out of character but he has to be. also sukuna can take control of yuji's body when he's asleep bc i decided so ok it's my first time writing for him so bare with me. summary: reincarnation!au with a twist. in every life sukuna finds you in, he has to remind you of who you once were- and who you once were to each other. it's a burden, but it's one he's carried for centuries and he wouldn't have it any other way. more info: slowburn enemies to ?? to lovers, sukuna is hopelessly in love with reader its very fun ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ ooh let the light in // at your back door yelling cause i wanna come in // ooh turn your light on // look at us, you and i back at it again ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Finding her in this life was the first thing on his mind as soon as his consciousness was manifested. Just like every era before this one, she’s always his first thought.

The second thought was- what the fuck?

In all of his centuries walking this earth, he’d never been quite out of body like this. As in, in a completely different body from his own. And much to his displeasure, he’d manifested inside of some brat jujutsu sorcerer that was a bit too strong for his own good. No worries, though, after they tracked down a few more of his cursed fingers he’d be able to take proper control and Itadori Yuji would cease to exist as soon as Sukuna regained his full strength.

So for some time, he played nice. Or, as nice as he could, that was. He sat back in his domain and waited. He’d never been one with a strong sense of patience- he may have been a man once but he was a curse now- but if it meant strengthening his chances in being reunited with her sooner, then he would play the long game. Besides, he could have some fun torturing the brat and his friends for a little while, right? No harm in some chaos and carnage along the way. He would need good stories to tell her when they were together again, anyways.

There were times where the brat began to wonder what it was Sukuna was doing there, quietly tucked into his domain. On the rare occasion that he didn’t rear his head into conversation with a nasty comment coming from a mouth materialized on his cheek or the back of his hand. Times passed where Yuji would cringe awaiting Sukuna’s inevitable filth, but instead he was gifted with silence from the curse inhabiting him. The young sorcerer could only assume that this meant he was doing something else- but what? What could he possibly occupy himself with while trapped in his own domain? Some days Yuji worried he was plotting something, but others he wondered if the King of Curses was just lost in thought. Did he daydream?

Sukuna wouldn’t call it that, but if anyone were able to catch him in the act, they’d know it was exactly that. All he could do with his time is imagine how he’d reunite with her in this life. It was one of his favorite parts of each new century or so, and after hundreds of lifetimes, there were plenty of memories to keep himself occupied with.

This time he knew he’d have to outdo himself, seeing as he was in an unfamiliar body, and he could only hope that she liked this one as much as the last. Perhaps the next time he took control of it he’d make sure everything was up to standard- he couldn’t have her rejecting him just because he was in some brat’s body this time. On the other hand, he knew her to be more playful and experimental than he was, so maybe she’d find a change in host exciting.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

To his delight, Sukuna is reunited with the great love of his life sooner than expected. To his great displeasure, it’s at exactly the wrong time.

He’d been irritated enough having his brat vessel tap out just because he couldn’t take on a measly little Special Grade. Of course, he wasn’t about to appease some righteous jujutsu sorcerer’s agenda by exorcizing the curse himself. But in the end, the curse disappointed him too, thinking that it could pick a fight with the King of Curses and come out of it alive.

Pride outweighed vengeance, and he found himself entertained with playing with the Special Grade. Playing, because of course it’s abilities were weak compared to real jujutsu, unlike the childish display the brat had put up first.

He’s so drawn in by his play fight with the curse that he’d completely missed her- that is until he’s using his Domain Expansion, and from the corner of one of his eyes he finally notices.

While it’s a shock that he’s managed to let the great love of his life go unnoticed, she isn’t exactly… conscious.

The special grade is sliced diced and forgotten, barely even a blip in Sukuna’s memory now once he recognizes the slumped over body on a pile of rubble a few hundred feet away. He’s delighted, ecstatic even. The bloodthirsty grin on his face is replaced by a beam of pure thrill. He’d previously thought it might take years to find her in this life, so to stumble across her now, after getting control of this body over a mere pest, was a real treat.

He approaches her limp body so quickly he’s practically teleported to her, and his beam begins to falter as he takes in her current state.

It’s not a matter of worry that she’s fairly beat up and knocked unconscious so hard there’s soft snores between heavy breaths, her mortal body working overtime to keep her alive at all- it was nothing a quick use of his Reverse Cursed Technique couldn’t fix.

The wince of disgust that contorts his features is directed solely at her attire.

Crisp black button up torn open to reveal the same shade of undershirt snugly fitting her underneath, paired with pants of the same material. He didn’t need to see the crest at the collar of her shirt to give him further context as to what she was up to in this century.

“Of course,” He utters through his snarl as he crouches down towards her, hands glowing as he promptly heals her wounds. She doesn’t awaken, her body growing even more exhausted after being put through the technique, but her muscles do appear to relax as she slumps further into the dirty ground. “You would be a sorcerer in this lifetime. Idiot,”

The cruel name falls from his lips with nothing but melted affection. No other person on this earth would be allowed to hear him speak this way and live to tell the tale. It was reserved only for her- and she wasn’t even awake to hear it now.

With steady hands Sukuna gathers her in his arms, trying to bend her into a more comfortable position. She doesn’t wince or complain when bruised limbs drag across broken slabs of concrete. If he wasn’t able to hear the steady beat of her heart, she would have easily been mistaken for dead already.

“A shitty reunion this time around, I’m afraid,”

Sukuna sighs before he sits fully on the ground. He’s not sure how much longer he’d be in control of this body, but any thoughts of fleeing to bring as much destruction to Tokyo is far from his mind. He wants nothing more than to sit here with his lover and hope that she’d wake back up before he’s dragged back into his domain.

With one arm wrapped under her shoulders to keep her limp body closely tucked to him, his free hand brushes the messy strands of hair away from her resting face. She looks peaceful, even though when she wakes she’d still carry the aches of her healed injuries. The tips of his fingers linger over her soft cheek as he admires her.

“Just as beautiful in this life as you were in every one before it, my love,” He murmurs, so quiet that even if she were conscious enough to hear it, she probably wouldn’t have.

He only gets a few moments of peace with her before he can feel a stir from inside of him, and he can faintly make out Yuji gaining his consciousness back. He snarls in his aggravation, wishing he could knock the brat out so he could get just a little more time with his long lost love, even if she wasn’t her usual lively self.

“Come, we have things to do” He tells her, before he pulls her closer and lifts her up.

He makes his way out of the destroyed building with leisure, knowing that the other sorcerer, Fushiguro, would be waiting outside for a fight. It wasn’t in his plans to end the kid’s life just yet, but with the reunion of his one true love coming prematurely, things might have to change. Oh well, he was flexible.

She fusses in his arms upon the lift, but even with her pinching brows and twitching eyelids, she never quite wakes up. Which was alright, they would have plenty of time to properly catch up in a bit. Sukuna had other things to handle first.

It would be some time still before she properly met the King of Curses face to face- in this life anyways- as shortly after his departure of the ruined building, he would have to set her aside to take care of a few of the weaker level shikigamis that the Fushiguro kid sent his way. After ripping the brat’s heart out of their shared chest, it would be a few weeks before things seemingly transitioned back to normal.

When (y/n) would finally come to in the infirmary a few hours after it all went down, Megumi would relay how the King of Curses had carried her out in his arms. She’d give him a bitter laugh, thinking he was trying to lighten the mood after the news of the death of their friend. But Megumi wasn’t usually very good at telling jokes, and after seeing his grave expression stay put, her face would fall.

“You’re serious?”

Megumi nods, the thin line of his lips unwavering.

(y/n) blinks a few times as she processes it slowly. She’s still not sure that she believes him, but she doesn’t have a reason not to either. If Gojo had told her this she’d have rolled her eyes, and maybe called him insensitive and unserious, but why would Megumi make something like that up?

“I don’t understand,” She tells him with a furrowed brow, and the way Megumi shrugs one shoulder unenthusiastically tells her he didn’t understand it any better than she did. “You’re telling me he saved me?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Megumi replies dryly. He should’ve known she’d ask him questions he clearly didn’t have the answers for, so he tried to provide her with what he did know so that maybe she wouldn’t torment him with more of her own questions. “But he brought you out, and set you down somewhere with your head propped up, and he didn’t try to attack you at all. At least, it looked like he didn’t”

Her tongue darts over the dryness of her bottom lip as her jaw hangs open at him. She doesn’t bother him with more useless questions, but that doesn’t mean the whole ordeal wasn’t plaguing her mind.

Something was very strange about that behavior. But with Yuji gone, she figured it was no use trying to decipher it all anyways. Maybe after some time when her grief wears off into something she could live with, she could forget about it completely.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With Yuji turning out to be alive and well, Sukuna’s plans shifted once more. He’d tortured him as best he could without the ability of taking control of the body, letting his friend be turned into a transfigured human, refusing to kill the spirit that called itself Mahito- as upsetting as it was to his brat vessel, Sukuna cared very little for such trivial events. In fact, if Yuji were to shut up about it, he probably could have forgotten completely. He only had one goal on his mind- to return to her again. Anything else was merely a stepping stone along the way.

Just as before, Sukuna spends most of his time in his domain without much noise. Except this time, Yuji starts to get an inkling of what he’s doing.

“It’s unbecoming and submissive of you to pretend to be dead,”

Sukuna taunts one day while Yuji’s working on his ‘training’ on Gojo’s couch while he invests himself with a romantic movie. His sudden appearance was a good test to his abilities, though, as the sleeping cursed puppet on Yuji’s lap doesn’t stir. It was safe to say that Yuji had gotten as used to sharing his body with the curse as he was going to get.

“What if your little sorcerer friends need you?” Sukuna chuckles. He quite enjoys the image of Fushiguro and the little red-headed girl struggling to keep up with mere Second Grade curses.

“They’re fine” Yuji replies casually, barely paying attention to the mouth on his face that wasn’t his. The movie was just getting good, after all.

“You think they can manage to hold their own?” Sukuna scoffs at the thought. “With half-assed cursed techniques like theirs?”

“Fushiguro and Kugisaki are the most cutthroat people I’ve ever known. Didn’t Fushiguro almost kick your ass?” Yuji mutters, more irritated than offended by Sukuna’s cruelty. “You’re just lucky you haven’t had to deal with (y/l/n)”

So is that what she was calling herself this time? Sukuna’s lips tilt into a smirk.

“She doesn’t seem like much to be afraid of,” The words themselves are harsh, but something in his tone changes. Enough that Yuji starts to lose focus on the television. “Last I saw her she was half dead. If it weren’t for me, she would have been dead-dead”

That finally catches Yuji’s full attention, and he misses the next few lines of the movie when he asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sukuna’s silent, thoughtfully so, as he tries to find just the right way to play his cards. Does he use his history with the brat’s friend as a scare tactic? Or does he keep that little fact to himself for a while longer? Either way, the longer he’s silent, the more Yuji begins to go stir crazy.

“Hey, you old curse!” He hollers suddenly, causing the cursed puppet in his lap to wake up and start to get aggressive. Yuji heaves as the tiny thing rears a heavy punch into his gut, but it doesn’t stop him from interrogating the curse inside of him. “What did you mean by that!?” He huffs out.

Sukuna chuckles, and just as quickly as he’d appeared on Yuuji’s cheek, he disappeared again, hiding away in his domain and entertaining himself with the sight of Yuji getting beat up by a little cursed teddy bear.

Perhaps he’d let the brat overthink for a little while longer, anxiety was a form of suffering after all, wasn’t it? At least watching the brat worry himself sick about it would provide him some amusement for the coming days. Until the sanction of his fake death is lifted, and he could go back to his goal of being reunited with his love.

(y/l/n). Her new surname rings in his head as he settles in his domain and lets his mind begin to wander again. As pretty as it was, he’d have to return it to the proper name. His name.

Yuji is attacked by Yaga’s cursed puppet a few more times that evening, but not due to the film changing his range of emotions. In fact, it was due to his complete lack of focus on the movie. All he could think about was what business Sukuna could possibly have with (y/n).

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When he makes his surprise reappearance for his friends, Yuji debates on pulling (y/n) aside and asking her about what Sukuna had mentioned. But for all he knew, he very well could have been toying with him, and ultimately he decided to enjoy what little time he had to catch up with his friends before they dove into the Exchange Event. It just didn’t seem worth bringing up at this time.

But for some reason, when she takes her seat as the Tokyo students begin their planning, Yuji’s compelled to sit beside her. It’s not an odd choice, it’s not out of character for him, she is his friend after all, but he’s quite aware of the way his feet move on their own accord to carry him to the empty seat beside her. Yuji knows his body, and he knows he wasn’t the one commanding it to do that.

It makes him gulp when he unceremoniously plops into the seat. (y/n) gives him a look, something crossed between confusion and amusement, but she brushes it off and doesn’t say a word as she shifts her focus back to Maki. Yuji tries to ignore it as well, a bit embarrassed about the whole display. Was that really Sukuna? He tried to clear his mind, too, it was quite important that he took in everything Maki was saying, but his mind is wrapped up in whatever game the King of Curses was playing right now.

And finally, when he thinks he’s heard enough of the game plan for the event, he feels it.

The slit under his right eye opens, the side facing (y/n). Yuji holds his breath, hoping that Sukuna doesn’t open his loud mouth and bark out something insulting, but he doesn’t. His mouth never materializes. He simply stares.

It’s almost worse.

A few minutes pass and no one seems to notice, as the attention of the room is still commanded by Maki. Except for Yuji himself, as he’d stopped listening to her altogether while he anxiously awaited whatever was to come next. What was he doing? He began to bounce his leg.

His throat closes up when he sees (y/n) turn her head out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t meet her gaze, even though she’s clearly staring at him- or Sukuna, he supposes- but she doesn’t speak up. She’s just as silent as the curse he’s hosting. Still, her gaze remains on the dark eye peeking out at her. If they weren’t in a room with all of their peers, Yuji would’ve broken his ignorant demeanor by now, but something inside him tells him to keep his mouth shut.

When the group disbanded for a quick lunch before the event officially started, (y/n) remained seated while the others filtered out, and when Yuji began to stand, she stopped him. All she’s done is reach a hand out, she barely even touches his arm, but it’s enough for him to stop in his tracks, and he stays put in his seat.

They don’t say anything until the room is empty, and even then, (y/n) chooses to speak quietly, almost under her breath.

“What the hell is going on with…” She pauses, her eyes flickering between Yuji’s and the ones below, before she raises her hand in a small gesture. “Him?” She mumbles it so low, afraid that saying his name would be enough to summon him, even though he’s so clearly already there before her.

“I don’t-”

Yuji starts, but before he could say anything- or think of anything to say- Sukuna’s mouth is materializing on his cheek. It’s an unsettling feeling on its own, but Yuji always felt a certain chill on his spine whenever he’d feel that mouth forming a smile.

“Just missed lookin’ at you, sweetheart”

Yuji’s face is sickly pale in a matter of seconds, the fear that settles over him tenses up all of his muscles, to the point they ache, and as much as he wants to remove himself (and Sukuna) from this situation, he’s frozen in place. Too stunned to say anything, too stunned to move, he just stands there helplessly as (y/n’s) wide eyes dart between both pairs on his face.

(y/n’s) reaction comes first, the shocked expression wearing off into something else. Yuji can’t place what it is- anger, disgust- but she loses the desire to keep the conversation quiet as reality settles over her.

“What!?” It comes out in a screech, but it’s just as quickly followed by absolute rambling. “What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is he talking about?” She awkwardly shifts her gaze between both sets of eyes, unsure and unfamiliar with how to communicate with the both of them.

“I- I don’t-”

Again, Yuji’s interrupted before he can come up with anything.

“We still have all the time in the world, for now you just keep your pretty little head focused on this game of yours, hm?”

Just like that, the fanged mouth is disappearing and Yuji’s cheek is returned to it’s normal state again.

(y/n) blinks, going silent again while her face is flushing with color. Now her eyes seem to focus on the lower, darker pair of eyes. It’s hard to gauge what Sukuna is thinking, or feeling. With only a narrowed set of eyes to go off of, not to mention he’s a reckless curse, he’s not a man, she doesn’t know what to make of the interaction.

But with the memory of what Megumi had told her, a dread begins to weigh down her chest. Whatever this behavior was about, it couldn’t mean anything could. It was unwanted attention, that was for sure. No matter how warm her face felt, or how nervous she suddenly was just being around Yuji.

Soon enough the eyes shut too, but even though it appears it’s only her and Yuji in the room, she can still feel Sukuna’s presence. She swallows the lump in her throat like it’s lead.

“Let’s just…” Her eyes flit away from the closed lids, meeting Yuji’s warm but worried gaze again. She’s not sure if it’s a comfort or not that he seems just as anxious as she feels. “Let’s just get through the Exchange Event first” She suggests.

She’s sure that this is the right choice of action. There was simply no time to dwell on Sukuna’s out of character behavior- then again she didn’t know him, she didn’t know what was in character, he was a curse!- not with all of their peers relying on them to secure the win for the Tokyo Prefecture.

Although she couldn’t deny her head wasn’t exactly in the game during the event. When she finds herself getting sloppy, taking hits she normally should have been able to dodge, she begins to curse the King of Curses himself. Surely this whole thing was an act, that was what he was best at, wasn’t it? Torture? Mind games? He was probably laughing it up in his domain watching her struggle so miserably at an event she couldn’t have been more prepared for.

When shit really hit the fan and curses and curse users reared their ugly heads in the middle of a semi-light hearted game, it dawned on her just how out of it she’d really become. Suddenly it didn’t matter how Mai shouldn’t have been able to get that shot at her shoulder- or how she should’ve seen Miwa’s Domain Expansion coming. There was no way she was going to let a curse like him get in her head and keep her from protecting her friends and herself from a real threat.

And once this attack in the middle of their event was taken care of and the scores were settled, she’d find a way to give the King of Curses a piece of her mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That time came sooner than expected, and it’s seemingly out of nowhere when he pays her a little visit.

Deep down she knows that she should be terrified when the King of Curses is at her door requesting her time for ‘a talk’ as he called it. A thousand questions should flood her mind, and after some time they’ll begin to register, slowly and one by one, far later than it’s appropriate to ask.

He’d gotten her alone, and this should terrify her further, she should feel like a lamb in the presence of a wolf- no- curse. But for some reason, when he enters the training room she’d been doing warm ups in, all she does is stare at him.

Sukuna knows that there’s no way she could have mistaken him for the brat, not with all of his markings, not with his vermillion eyes, not with the abundant amount of cursed energy he carried with him. Any other mortal would straighten up, freeze in place and stare at him in utter fear as they waited for whatever fate he bestowed upon them.

Not her.

Foolishly, he believes this is due to the lifetimes they’d spent together before this one. Even though he’s well aware of the rules of the courtship. He recalls many meetings before this one where he’d had to open her eyes to the Binding Vow that brought her back in every lifetime. Still, he naively held onto a hope that her lack of reaction to his presence now is because somewhere inside of her, she knows she doesn’t need to be afraid of him like the others.

(y/n’s) true feelings couldn’t have been farther from his assumptions. It may have been a moment of poor judgment, but the moment he’d materialized at that door, irritation overrode self preservation. It didn’t matter that the cursed energy he carried was so heavy it was palpable.

She took one look at the King of Curses and furrowed her brows like she was a child he’d wronged, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear for her life when she’s the first to speak.

“What the fuck are you doing out?”

Out, it’s a funny choice of word, isn’t it? Sukuna can’t help the chuckle of amusement. Did she mean out and about, casually roaming the sacred grounds, or could she have meant out due to his control over the brat’s body?

A frown settles on her lips when she sees he’s already enjoying himself. She should be wondering what he’s been up to before he came here, or when exactly it was he gained control over Yuji’s body.

“And what happened to-”

Before she could fully voice her worry for her friend, Sukuna’s waving a dismissive hand.

“The brat’s fine, not everything has to be about him, you know” He scolds her as if this was a conversation they’d had a hundred times before now. Her frown deepens.

“Forgive me for caring more about him than a curse like you” She scoffs back at him.

How was it that in every lifetime she had to have that same bad attitude? Of course eventually she’d always settle down and warm back up to him, century and century again. Some cases took days, others years, and Sukuna was starting to get a feeling that due to the circumstances they found themselves in this time around, this case could be the latter. He frowns at the thought.

He found her so quickly this time, why did she have to be so stubborn?

“Always such a brat, I can hardly tell the difference between you,” He replies.

The look of disgust on her face is washed away by mild surprise. Both from the soft and easy cadence of his usually rough and cruel voice, and from the realization that he probably should have killed her for talking back to him the way she did. Now she starts to wonder just how many buttons she can push before she sees the true side of the King of Curses.

Her brows pinch together as she watches him with calculations behind her eyes. Was this all a part of the act from before?

“How interesting could things have been if you’d swallowed the finger that day and not this brat, hm?” He muses, and he seems genuinely curious about it.

(y/n) can barely keep up with him, trying too hard to jump to conclusions before he’s revealed them. Then again, there might be nothing to understand at all- this was all a part of the mind games, wasn’t it? She makes a mental note to meet with Gojo about this. Sukuna must’ve had greater plans in mind that the strongest sorcerer should be looped in on. Even if so far… he hadn’t exactly done anything… just made her friendship with Yuji fairly awkward.

Sukuna hasn’t moved from the doorway. Her eyes sweep over him carefully as she wonders if this is purposeful. If his motive is to give her a false sense of safety.

“Humor me for a moment, (y/n)”

He sounds out her name like it’s an unfamiliar word, and for the first time since he’d appeared minutes prior, there’s a familiar hollow in her chest. At first she tags it as distress, but the way it lingers like a dull ache has her double guessing it’s cause.

“What?”

No should’ve been what came out of her mouth- if anything needed to be said at all. Would he let her leave if she tried? Would he punish her for it? However, despite every instinct begging to drag her in a different direction, she can’t help the intrigue she feels for him.

“What’re you doing here as a sorcerer?” He hums again with his question, eyes narrowing on her slightly as he takes account of her every reaction.

She’s holding her breath right now, it’s obvious in her tense jaw and unmoving chest. Not even a strand of hair waves in it’s place. Every part of her is so still, he could easily mistake it as her natural instinct to fear him as her natural predator. He knows this isn’t the case.

She opens her mouth to protest the question at first, but just as quickly, her jaw slacks, and she’s closing it softly as she sits on it a little more thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?”

It irks him to have a question answered with another question. This was another quirk of hers that she always had in the earlier stages of their reunion. Even with the grain of irritation, Sukuna still finds himself amused in the way that she truly is the same person in every lifetime. She may have different names, and occasionally a feature or two isn’t quite how he remembered it- and trust him, he remembered- but her soul remained pure, unfiltered, unchanging. She was always his.

“The last we spoke, you had quite the unshakable opinion about a society that breeds and boasts of it’s powerful children to protect them, only to leave them in neglect…” He trails off, scanning her features in the search of any flash of recognition. If anything, she’s only more confused. Her brows are furrowed and her lips have formed a pout which he deemed as her sign of defeat in trying to understand him. “Something about creating the things you fear. But it was quite some time ago, and I see you’ve so clearly changed your mind” He raises a hand, palm up as he lazily gestures to her.

(y/n’s) posture straightens up, partially out of her defensive nature, but mostly due to the seriousness in his tone. Logic tells her she shouldn’t be taking anything he says as truth, it would be foolish, and in the end probably deadly too.

But that intrigue hits her, ignites a tiny spark in her chest that has her longing to learn more. The intensity tells her that if he weren’t this curse, that perhaps if he was just a man, she might humor him in the way he was looking for.

If she began the what if game now, she feared she’d find herself justifying her continuation of this conversation.

“You must have me confused, then”

Her words are clear and concise without being loud.

“I haven’t confused you in any century before this one and I would never confuse you in the ones to come after,”

She tries to hide the surprise in her expression, but she knows she fails. Especially when Sukuna’s amusement in her reaction seems more genuine than before. He takes a step into the room, just a single one.

“Your brat friend is fine. He fell asleep. We have a sort of… deal,”

There is some comfort in his words, even if (y/n) is unsure about her trust in him, the words still hit her chest and her shoulders slowly begin to untense. She doesn’t question him, doesn’t make any comment at all. She supposes he’ll fill the silence eventually, and her assumption is correct.

“You and I have known each other for quite some time,” He continues. “Long ago, you made a Binding Vow to me. A vow that allowed your mortal body to be reborn in every lifetime, so that I may find you”

Her brows furrow, hardly believing this to be the truth. She’s supposed to believe a Binding Vow could hold the power to reincarnate her? A quiet scoff blows past her lips.

“Incredible,” She murmurs, but it’s clear her astonishment isn’t enthusiastic. It’s cynical. “What sort of entertainment do you really gain from this?”

She asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she dares a few steps forward. She’s not all that close to him, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter her distance from Sukuna, the radius of his danger could stretch for miles.

“You never believe me right away” He muses, his hands folding behind his back as he regards her curiously. It makes her feel like a specimen, like a wild animal he’s just stumbled upon, but she doesn’t shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

“Would you?”

It’s not the response he’s expecting, but his eyes light up with a flicker of excitement.

“Of course not,” He answers, his lips beginning to curl into a smile. It should send a chill down her spine, but she takes another step forward and tilts her chin up higher. So foolish, he thinks with an air of loveliness wrapped around it, don’t you see that the mere fact I let you live for behaving like this must mean there’s some truth in my words? Instead, he tells her “Yet, you fall every time”

“I fall for the trick?” She snaps, but her intrigue remains.

“You fall for me” He clarifies, a finality in his tone that has her shutting up, albeit momentarily.

No, she must’ve been right, it was all some grand trick. Some ridiculous, theatrical ploy he’d come up with just to deceive her. She’s not sure of the why yet- if he wanted to kill her, couldn’t he have done it already? If he wanted to torture her, couldn’t he have chained her up by now? She’s skeptical, but she would hate to admit that some part of her, deep, deep down, considers that he may not be lying to her.

Of course he must be lying, so she tries to shove that idea down.

“And why would I do such a thing like that?” She asks, her tone bored, but the wideness in her eyes as she awaited his answer didn’t go unnoticed.

Sukuna unfolded his hands in order to push them into the pockets of Yuji’s pants. His grievance in wearing a sorcerer’s uniform was obvious in the unsavory curl in his lips as he briefly glanced down at himself, but his attention returned to her just as quickly.

“A Binding Vow is a double sided contract,” He reminds her. “You entered it willingly,” He tilts his head at her as he watches her process this information, before he tells her the full truth. “In fact, you were the one who brought the idea to me, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that” She mutters out quickly, not thinking twice about the consequences of scolding the King of Curses.

“It’s true,” Sukuna shrugs his shoulders with a lazy drag. “I almost didn’t agree to it. But you’ve always been… convincing”

She’s not sure what he means, because the memories he’s recalling aren’t shared- if they’re real memories at all- and yet, she continues to lay her questions on thick.

“And why wouldn’t I choose to remember all of this then, hm? If I chose to be reborn, over and over, why wouldn’t I have wanted to remember?” She’s challenging him, and Sukuna’s enjoying it, even if it means that right now the distance she puts between them is further than before he’d found her due to her distrust in him.

History has repeated itself for thousands of years, but no event was as perfectly cyclical as she was to him. Time and time again he would find her, and in every lifetime, she’d been his.

“You wanted to,” He tells her. “The vow took a bit of a different turn than expected. See, your soul didn’t simply leap into a pre-existing person with each reincarnate. You were born again. Every part of your being, physical and… otherwise, was reborn. It actually makes it all the more difficult to find you, you know”

“Seems like a copout” She says, her expression unamused.

“Well go on then, what else do you want to ask me?”

“I have nothing,” She lies. “Because I’m not entertaining this any further”

“Fine, then,” To her surprise, Sukuna actually accepts her rejection- if you could call it that. “I’ll give the brat his body back. But you’ll know where to find me once you start to remember”

He leaves without a word, not even a mere wave, and it’s not until he’s gone that (y/n) wonders if she should be worried about him roaming the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, but nothing happens.

In fact it’s such a quiet night that the next morning everyone seems well rested and rejuvenated, all in good spirits and ready to take on the day. Everyone but her. And she can’t stop her eyes from shifting towards Yuji every thirty seconds, always double checking the slits under his eyes, as if one of these times she’d find them open and focused on her.

She can’t get the image of Sukuna lounging so casually in that training room. It’s hard when one of her closest friends shares his face, so even when she’s not anxious about seeing that second set of eyes, her heart still skips a beat when Yuji’s eyes catch hers and he smiles politely.

Naturally, that skip in her heart was due to her nerves, and had nothing to do with the contents of her discussion with the curse inside of him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sukuna gives (y/n) what he believes to be an abundant amount of time to let their past settle in. He wants her to process it all properly. He wants her to come to her senses and realize that there were no ulterior motives in his reveal.

He still makes the occasional crude comment from Yuji’s cheek, but while they’re ever directed at her, she finds her posture straightening and her eyes trained on the skin where he’s materialized, always waiting for him to direct something her way. He doesn’t. He hardly even looks at her- when she’s looking, that is. While inside of his domain and perfectly hidden by Itadori Yuji, Sukuna spends as much of his time staring at her while he can. Some days, there’s an intensity so strong that Yuji finds himself not-so-subtly staring at her too. Sukuna doesn’t like this- if he had things his way then no one would lay there eyes on what was his- but letting Yuji sneak glances here and there was a small price to pay in order to make sure the pair remain close enough that Sukuna’s still able to have some sense of nearness to her.

Due to this silent period on his part, (y/n) decides against bringing Gojo’s attention to the situation. While she knows it hasn’t just disappeared, because she just knows that it will be brought up again, she hopes that enough time passes that she can learn to brush it off as nonsense spewed from a bored curse.

It nags at her, despite her best efforts, she never allows herself to forget it completely. It crosses her mind every day, if not every minute she spends with Yuji. The way he stood, the way he spoke, it would play on a loop in her mind until she was sure it would drive her to the point of madness. It very well could have, already.

And one night, she decides to take the reins into her own hands, and she approaches it first.

After watching a partial movie in the common room, Megumi had long gone to bed and Nobara had crashed on a makeshift pile of blankets on the floor, (y/n) feels an anxiousness settle over her when she hears Yuji begin to snore and he, too, was just as knocked out as the rest of her friends.

She debates on it for a moment, her eyes sliding between the flickering television and the resting boy sitting beside her on the couch. Her index finger taps at an unkept pace against her knee, and she lets as many minutes pass as she could, just to be sure Yuji truly was asleep.

Then she turned her head fully, eyes focused on that mark under his face where Sukuna’s eyes were peacefully shut. Not sure of the inner workings on how the whole vessel thing worked, her only choice was to take a shot in the dark and hope it worked.

“I was going to tell Gojo about what you said, you know”

Her whisper is so soft, her voice cracks and gives on certain syllables. Even if he could hear her from in there, she wonders if he could have heard something so silently spoken.

Slowly, the eye opens, and it blinks a few times before it slides towards her. She wonders if he sleeps in there, or if every introduction light when he leaves his domain requires an adjustment.

And then, Yuij’s stirs, and (y/n) freezes up, watching as he twitches before his eyes begin to blink awake, as well. Fear spikes in her chest at the thought of getting caught talking to the curse inside of him while he slept.

But when his eyes fully open and an array of markings begin to paint across his features, she realizes it’s not Yuji. It’s just his body. There’s a certain guilt that follows her relief from this. In no situation should she feel pleased to see Sukuna over Yuji.

“Am I supposed to be threatened by this?” He asks slowly, in a low tone of voice that she can’t decide the cause of. Was he trying to be considerate of the sleeping sorcerer on the ground? Or was he just trying to be as menacing and mysterious as always?

He doesn’t lift his head from where Yuji had been dozed off against the couch cushion, neck craned at an angle that couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in for the entire night, but Sukuna’s not exactly looking out for the brat’s comfort. He could use a good crick in the neck or two.

“I don’t think there’s anything I could do to threaten you,” (y/n) replies honestly, the hush in her voice making her sound softer than she would’ve liked. She doesn’t need him thinking she’s warming up to being in his presence, after all. “But… would you kill me if I was?”

“What do you think?”

It comes out fast enough to be taken harshly, like he holds a disbelief in how idiotic she could be, but their conversation began with a whisper and it seems to be carried on that way. A lump forms in (y/n’s) throat as she holds eye contact with the darkened vermillion ones that stare back at hers.

The deep feeling she’d buried, the one that told her maybe she trusted him whether she liked it or not, sparked and caught light, burned just a little bit brighter, caused just enough smoke for her to give some of her attention to.

If he truly wanted to kill her, he had millions of chances to do so before now. So she concludes that his goal wasn’t to do so. Of course, this begs the question,

“What is it that you want, Sukuna?”

She’s much calmer than the last time they spoke, he notices. She’s nervous, but not tense, and not nearly as defensive. He’s not naive, he doesn’t mistake this for trust, but he is pleased in her change in attitude.

An idle smile curls on his lips as his fixed gaze softens with familiarity.

Just like every time before now, she always, eventually, came around to him. It was like her curiosity couldn’t keep her away, and her heart always won over her mind.

“I believe you already know the answer to that” He refrains from letting an old pet name fall from his tongue, a courtesy to her that he allows this once, just so she wouldn’t flee from her seat next to him.

She hums, letting the sort-of-answer sit on her mind for a moment. An unknown feeling gnaws at her- or at least, a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to.

“Why?” The word ghosts off of her lips, and even with the worried knot between her brows her eyes stay set on his. “Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Sukuna muses, his lower set of eyes rolling just slightly before he can help it. “It doesn’t have to be you- it just is. It’s always been you, and it always will be”

“Because of the Binding Vow?” She questions, and he blinks at her, processing what she meant, before his brows furrow just a little bit, and he shakes his head.

“The only clause to our vow is that you will always be reborn,” His tongue runs over his teeth as he tries to bite back the amusement he feels when realization dawns on her. “Everything after that comes from your own free will, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that” She snaps at him, but it’s a mumble, hardly audible, hardly threatening. Sukuna purses his lips.

“Like I said, you were the one who came up with the contract,” He huffs. “I would’ve never agreed to such a thing if you weren’t so persistent”

She perks up at that little comment, and suddenly turns in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her as she faces him. Sukuna’s barely moved at all, still slouched into the cushion in the position Yuji had fallen asleep in. His eyes follow her movements as she sets her elbow on the top of the furniture so she could prop her head in her hand. Her brows are drawn together again as she studies him.

“Then why tell me about it?” She blurts the question out.

“Because I’m the one burdened with the centuries of memories” He replies without missing a beat, voice dry and expression unreadable. He’s keeping it as neutral as possible, knowing her calculating eyes would see right through any sudden change, no matter how small.

“And you are?” She asks, and then in a softer voice, finishes the thought, “Burdened?”

Sukuna blinks, slowly, before letting his gaze wander the soft and curious look on her face. He fights the urge to smile at the loveliness of it all- the twitch in her nose, the small pout in her lip- he’s the King of Curses and there should be no force on this earth that weakens him the way her gentle gaze focused on him does. Even after all this time, she is his achilles heel, she is his greatest burden, and she is the only thing he could ever truly, completely, want.

“Yes,” His answer is quiet, and (y/n) lifts her head as she stares at him with her confusion. “There exists no stronger shackles a being could trap me with the way you have,”

Her face falls, and she’s silent for a long moment. With a dry throat and a mind too busy and overcrowded with thoughts, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. But that gnawing feeling was starting to make her chest ache, and the pounding of her heart in her ribcage was relentless.

“There’s no greater curse I could bear”

She hates the way he says these things so casually, without a strain in his expression or voice. She wonders if it’s because he’s done it so many times that it’s lost it’s value. Perhaps to him, this was just a part of the burden that was her existence, explaining these things to her was simply a chore that needed to be completed. She swallows a few times to ease the dryness of her throat.

“Does it get old?”

Sukuna smiles. It should trouble her- he knows that it unsettles Yuji- but if she feels unease it’s not shown.

“A thousand years of anything gets old,” He sighs, rolling his head over the cushion to stare up at the blank ceiling. “And I’d hate to admit the things that never get old”

It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous and foolish and naive, but she smiles.

“What doesn’t get old?” She asks, her curiosity blending with a sick sense of delight as she wonders just how many sides of Sukuna there really are.

He angles his head towards her again, narrowing his gaze as his lips twisted into a small smirk. It felt like his technique had the ability to see right through her- she wondered if he was really strong enough to do that.

“Last time we spoke, you said you wouldn’t entertain this,” He reminds her. “What’s changed?”

“Nothing,” She murmurs back without a moment of hesitation.

It’s the truth, and she has no reason to falsify an answer for him. Just as he had no reason to be so forward about their past. Even if she hadn’t gathered much, this conversation was much different from their last, and she felt as though she would walk away with this one overwhelmed by all of this new information. Her trust in him is precarious, and could easily be destroyed by one wrong move, but right now, she can’t see what reason she has not to take him at his word. It’s not as if he’s asking for anything in return, it’s not as if she won’t return to her dorm for the night and likely not see or speak to him again for some time. So, she supposed, what was the harm in entertaining the idea just a little?

“Nothing at all” She finishes the thought softly, before turning her attention back to the forgotten movie still playing across the room. It was nearing the end, and she’d missed enough of it to barely understand what was happening on screen now, but she didn’t have any more questions for the King of Curses tonight, and he kept quiet as she watched the movie.

To her surprise, Sukuna did sit and watch the movie. She’s not sure how much of it he actually listened or paid attention to, but it was clear that he had not given Yuji his body back, and was still very much alert and in control.

(y/n) doesn’t return to her dorm room until she finally sees Yuji asleep next to her, his face bare of any markings, and the extra eyelids under his eyes closed just as peaceful as his own.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

In the meantime, (y/n) didn’t feel so anxious around Yuji anymore, which they were both grateful for. Yuji wasn’t sure why the sudden chance came about, but he certainly wouldn’t complain. He was just glad to have his friend acting her usual self again.

He had no idea of the few chats she’d shared with the curse he hosted. While Sukuna wasn’t necessarily hiding his interest in her, he wasn’t forthright with the brat either. He didn’t need the kid interfering with what he was building on here. It was slow moving like a trail of molasses but Sukuna was more patient than most people gave him credit for. He could let a lot of things go.

Not this, however.

All of Gojo’s students had been sent on a seemingly standard assignment. Odd, unexplainable disappearances had been happening in a clearing in the middle of the woods, enough so to alert jujutsu society and send a few sorcerers to the scene to investigate.

Upon arrival, there was an undeniable heaviness in the air. The field that the group of four found themselves in didn’t stretch for miles, but it was no small clearing. It was a strange place for a curse to settle in and lure non-sorcerers towards. Curses often tucked themselves into hidden spots, within abandoned buildings or deep in the thick brush of the woods. Not a clearing of grass and wild daisies.

The entire situation was odd, it didn’t sit right in anyone’s mind as they went their separate ways to scour the area for any insight on what was happening here. It didn’t take long for something to turn up.

A curse that had to have been a First Grade, with a large, sharp toothed grin and gouged out eyes, materialized in the clearing’s center, and as soon as it clocked this evening’s prey as jujutsu sorcerers, it seemed to go into a mad state. (y/n’s) not sure if it possesses great speed or the ability to teleport when it’s suddenly before her. All she’s able to do in that amount of time is lift her weapon into an offensive position, she’s not even given the time to drive it forward in an attack before suddenly, she’s no longer on the ground.

She comes to mid air, just before she hits the ground and rolls a few times before her senses kick in and her hands brace themselves against the ground. She can faintly hear her friends calling for her in their shock, but it’s distant. Her head is spinning too fast for her to lift it to see just how far the curse had thrown her.

A few coughs erupt from her throat before she even tells her body to do so, brought on by the hit to her chest once she’s lifted herself up enough to relieve the pressure from the ground. Her arms are trembling from the adrenaline and a few drops of blood splatter from her mouth, but once she’s sat up enough, she drags the sleeve of her uniform over her mouth to dry the blood, and she finally gets a good look at where she is.

She’s been thrown clear out of the field, and she considers herself lucky that her body hadn’t been halted by a tree, and instead tumbled to the ground. Being thrown directly into one of the large oaks she’s surrounded by could’ve been fatal if she’d hit it just right, or at the very least she could’ve broken her ankle. With a rushed assessment she decides nothing feels broken, and therefore she can grab her weapon and-

Her weapon is nowhere near her. She scrambles to her feet, her breaths heavy and irregular as she searches around the grass, looking for the large blade she’d had in her hands less than a minute ago.

It had only been a minute, right? She hadn’t blacked out, had she?

Realizing there was no use wasting her time looking for a weapon now, she pushes herself to break into a sprint back towards the clearing. Her friends are blurry images moving about, trying to attack the larger blurry images that fends off their attacks with little struggle. She concludes this when she begins to hear the yelps and grunts of her fellow sorcerers, and yet the curse doesn’t seem to struggle at all.

Just when her vision begins to clear and she’s preparing herself to rejoin the fight with only her cursed technique and her fists, she sees the curse grab Megumi by the leg, and soon after he’s getting thrown into the air just as she did. His name is torn from her raw throat in an instant- but Megumi is more prepared to be airborne than she was, drawing his hands together to summon Nue to catch him.

Relief is short lived, and soon Megumi finds himself instructing Nue to catch Nobara and Yuji when shortly after, they’re being thrown as well. Nue’s a quick shikigami, but it’s only strong enough to carry one person at a time before it’s energy starts to deplete, and the curse keeps at it’s movements, chuckling the three of them into the air before they can land an attack on them on their decline. Yuji tries, using Black Flash on his descent in the hopes of striking it where it hurts, but the curse manages to catch him in a tight fist before chucking him again.

(y/n’s) still keeping an eye out for her weapon when she grows nearer to the fight, seeing as no one else’s techniques have caused any real damage yet, her cursed tool of a sword could be quite handy right about now.

She was hoping that with it’s attention focused on the other three, she could attack it from behind, and drive it more towards the clearing again. With how much movement and tossing it had done, it had driven them all deeper into the woods, which made it harder to land attacks, but had been good coverage for (y/n) to sneak up in her approach.

To her disadvantage, she hadn’t expected there to be a pair of large eyes on the back of it’s head. In the dark of the night she hadn’t noticed them until they’d opened and landed on her instantaneously. It must’ve sensed her sneaking around behind it.

She’s quicker in her movements this time, dodging it’s large hand before it could grab onto her, but it outsmarts her and snatches her up in the other. A yelp sounds from her when it squeezes harder than the last time, her air supply cut off just as she’d tried to take in a large breath, making her sputter and cough as it raised her in the air again. A sense of dread and failure washes over her when she realizes it’s going to throw her again. Whatever this curse’s deal was, it had a thing for throwing it’s victims around to torture them.

And torture it was- as this time when she’s launched into the air, it’s a clear throw over the trees. It’s harder than before, and faster. The cool air cuts over her face in sharp streams, bringing tears to her eyes before she could comprehend what would come of her fall. She could brace herself, but as she gets a watery glance at what’s below, she knows that shielding her face would provide no comfort to her fall.

Just past the cluster of oak trees is a steep overhang. Rock and the roots of old trees jutting out some thirty feet to the ground.

This is why her fall felt so long. A sharp gasp escapes her, and when her inhale gets caught in her throat, she wonders if this is the last breath she’ll ever take.

When she shuts her eyes to protect them from the harsh wind, a wetness spreads down her cheeks. In a last ditch effort at self preservation, her arms brace over her face, and she buries herself into them, not wanting to see the last thing that would break her fall. Hopefully she wouldn’t feel it, either.

Her jaw clenched tightly as her heart began to race faster, expecting the crash to come soon.

The sensation isn’t as expected. There is no slam against stone or cold ground that knocks the wind out of her. Instead something’s wrapped around her middle, and out of worry that the curse had grabbed her in order to throw her again, she withdraws her head from her arms in a jolt.

It’s not the curse that’s caught her mid-fall.

It’s Sukuna.

With one arm wrapped around her back and the other around her shoulders, his large hand braces the back of her head to keep her tucked close. They’re still falling, but the sensation feels different like this. It’s almost as if he’s carrying her to the ground, his posture as natural as it would be if he were standing there now.

Wide, watery eyes blink up at him in astonishment when she fully registers what was happening.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you, sweetheart”

If it weren’t for the rawness in her throat, she might’ve scolded him for the pet name, but her voice was taken away from her as soon as she’d been heaved into the sky a second time.

She doesn’t even process the way she’s gripping onto him until he lands on the ground, holding her up just a moment longer before carefully setting her on her feet. Her hands are holding onto the sleeves of Yuji’s uniform in fists so tight her knuckles are white, and her hands are trembling.

The others are nowhere in sight, or at least, she can’t see them right now. Her mind is so shaken up she doesn’t actually look. Her eyes don’t tear away from the stunning red of Sukuna’s once. She doesn’t even blink- hence the continued downpour of tears. From the wind and her acceptance of a brutal death, her emotions were slowly catching up to reality.

Her chest is heaving but there’s no relief in feeling like she’s caught her breath. Her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her ribs ache, but that very well could be the bruising from her previous fall setting in. Her mouth moves but it takes a few tries for any real words to come out, and when her voice does come back to her, she doesn’t say much.

“S- Sukuna-”

He silences her before she could even try to say something else. Prying her hands off of his arms and placing them at her sides, even though there’s still tremors in her muscles.

“I only have a minute,” He tells her, in a gravely serious tone that she’s never heard from him before. She blinks her wide eyes, leftover tears getting stuck on her lashes. “It’s been handled”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t get the chance to before his posture begins to weaken, followed by his eyelids twitching and the marks beginning to fade away.

Gasping, (y/n) surges forward, grabbing Yuji by the shoulders before he could stumble and fall. His eyes roll and blink a few times before he feels in control of his body again. Soon after his posture straightens, and then it’s Yuji who’s looking worriedly down at (y/n).

She’s close, very close. Her hands are gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. He can feel her panting against his chin as her worried eyes scan over his features.

Yuji’s disoriented, like maybe he’s just woken up from a dream, or maybe he’s just woken up inside of a dream, and he’s not exactly sure how to voice this concern. She makes it harder on him when one of her hands leaves his shoulder in order to reach for his cheek.

It’s so affectionate, the way she reaches for his face and presses her palm against it, that Yuji finds his skin heating up and a blush appearing over his cheeks before he could will himself not to. She’s never behaved this way with him before. He could only recall casual touches that occurred during training, or maybe a brush of her fingers when she handed him something, but nothing as intentional as this.

And she’s certainly never looked at him like that either. He can’t place his finger on it, but it makes his stomach churn to meet her eyes.

“Uh, (y/n)?” He mumbles out her name, and he finds himself doing a quick sweep of her, assessing her for a major injury. But she’s standing just fine, and he can’t see any blood. This had to be a head injury, right?

He asks himself that question once more then the pad of her thumb brushes under his eye. She faintly traces the incision of the closed eyelid just below his eyelashes. Yuji holds his breath, but he’s not sure who he’s doing it for. (y/n), whose eyes are glossing over as she’s gazing at the wrong eyes, which remained closed, or Sukuna, who Yuji was sure she was trying to reach to now.

And then she leans even closer, and the breath he’d been holding is forced out of him from the closing distance between them. Her hands remain where they are, on his shoulder with an iron grip and against his cheek with the gentleness of a butterfly landing there.

On instinct Yuji finds his eyes darting down to her lips, but he’s positive she’s not going to kiss him- right? She wouldn’t do such a thing on a whim, not like this, not now when they’ve barely completed their assignment. Not to mention their friends aren’t too far away- where are Nobara and Megumi anyways? Yuji’s thoughts are racing as fast as his heart as he struggles to figure out what to do as she grows nearer.

Before he has to come up with a decision, (y/n) stops, and Yuji swallows the lump in his throat out of relief that she wasn’t leaning in to kiss him. The ride home would have been so awkward.

“Thank you” She breathes out the words, her thumb stroking over the spot on his cheek one more time before she finally drops her hand, and she pulls away from Yuji completely.

He blinks at her in disbelief, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down, which it does the further she steps away.

“What happened?” He asks, louder than he means to, but when he finally collects his thoughts and processes what just happened, he can’t help but blurt out the question.

The pair begin to make their way back to the clearing, both realizing that the First Grade curse was gone, clearly exorcized with the amount of purple goo coating the surrounding plants and trees. They don’t discuss it right away, but they both have an inkling on how it was taken care of.

“Sukuna saved my life”

Yuji wants to ask more questions, but when he turns towards her to do so, he can tell that she’s not ready to talk about it. Her features had hardened, and she didn’t meet his eyes as they walked.

He knows he’s put off this conversation one too many times already… but once again he finds himself biting his tongue as they catch up with their other friends.

Something tells him that he’ll have to bring it up soon, though. Because the King of Curses wouldn’t save just anyone’s life twice- much less a sorcerer. And he has a gut feeling that (y/n) knows more than she’s letting on.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This time, it’s only a few days since the last assignment when (y/n) crosses paths with Sukuna again. Well, this time around, he came to her.

She’s just slid her bookmark between the pages she’d decided to pause on tonight when there’s a knock at her door. With a quiet huff- she was just about to go to sleep after all- but before she can call for her visitor to come in, the door slides open and he’s inviting himself right on.

“Yu-! Sukuna?”

The initial scolding tone she takes drops as soon as she realizes he’s not who she thought. Her voice softens around his name in a way that it shouldn’t, but that she can’t help. She sits up a little further in her bed, brows furrowing as he slides the door shut behind him.

“You can’t just walk in here”

“I knocked”

“Okay well… well you have to wait for me to actually invite you in” She mumbles out, only to be met with a scoff and a humorless chuckle. But when her frown deepens, he sighs.

“Fine, I’ll knock for longer next time” He grunts, before he begins to wander around her room. He glances over the few things littered on her desk- a picture frame of her and her friends, an open and neglected textbook, a pair of bracelets she’d forgotten to put away- he almost forgets why he’d come in to begin with.

“Um… did you need something?” (y/n) asks after a minute of him wandering around and eyeing all of her things.

“You’re freaking out the brat,” Sukuna says casually, picking up a little porcelain cat on her shelf. His eyes narrow as he turns the small thing around in his hands, as if trying to decipher it’s purpose. “He won’t stop asking about you now”

“What?” (y/n) pushes the covers off her lap, moving to the end of the bed to sit a little closer to him. It doesn’t matter if she’s quiet, it’s only the two of them in the room, but she feels a sudden need to lower her voice anyways. “What do you mean he’s freaking out?”

He turns to her then, the figurine still in his hands. The tiniest of smiles purses on her lips at how silly a tiny cat looks in his large and tattooed hands. Despite how easily he could crush it to dust, his hold on it is gentle.

“I just thought that you should be aware, you know, that eventually you’ll have to decide if you want to explain yourself to your friends or not”

Her stomach twists and turns into dozens of little knots. The King of Curses was stopping by her room late into the night just for this? She shouldn’t be surprised, because she knew his motives, but still, she blinked at him with wide eyes.

“You haven’t…?” The question trails off as she shakes her head at him, unsure of how to word it just right.

“I don’t like the idea of the brat knowing all of my business,” Sukuna hums, finally setting the cat back down on her shelf. “You’ve always had a knack for collecting useless things” He comments, and the words are harsh but his tone is nothing but amused.

“So… you think I should talk to Yuji?” She asks, and Sukuna lets his shoulders rise and fall in disinterest.

“If that’s what you want” He says, but it doesn’t feel considerate. (y/n) frowns.

“Don’t you think he’ll be… upset?”

“With you?”

She nods.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, the brat would only worry about you. Seeing as he despises me, and all”

“You don’t exactly make it easy to feel otherwise” (y/n) mumbles, and her words hang in the air for a few long moments. She’s not sure if she means the insinuation behind them or if it’s just a coincidence, but she doesn’t try to backtrack to explain herself.

“Yes, well, he certainly cares more for you than he does for me. Too much so. Some boundaries might do you some good, you know”

“Boundaries?”

“Yes, boundaries. He almost kissed you”

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head before her brows furrow and she scoffs in disbelief.

“What? What are you even talking about?”

Sukuna tucks his hands into his pockets, looking all the more out of place in her room at this hour.

“During your little gratitude session on your last assignment,” He says, his lips curling into a deep frown. “You got a bit too close and his brat-mind went a bit haywire. You don’t need to be so affectionate with him, you know. A plain thank you would have sufficed-”

“I wasn’t being affectionate with him,” She snaps back, and Sukuna raises a brow at the display. “I was thanking you, asshole. You pretty much saved my life?” She says it like she’s trying to jog his memory. “I wasn’t trying to make a move on Yuji, and I’m sure he knew that too. I don’t control his thoughts, he can think whatever he wants, doesn’t mean it’s happening”

Sukuna steps closer to where she sat before bending down to match her height. She’s still frowning, clearly annoyed with this interaction, but she had yet to ask him to leave, and he has a feeling she won’t.

“So if the brat had plucked up the nerve to make a move, you would’ve pushed him away?” He asks, and he’s smirking, almost as if he wants her to say otherwise. Her eyes narrow, not understanding what his mind games were getting at this time.

“Politely, yes,” She answers, shaking her head at him. “Why does this matter? Last I checked, in this lifetime, I’m not some cowering wife for you to boss around”

Sukuna laughs at that, genuinely laughs. He stands back up to his full height and throws his head back and cackles so loud that (y/n) can only pray Nobara doesn’t wake up from next door. She might not need to whisper to speak with him, but the walls weren’t exactly soundproof either.

“Sweetheart, you’ve never been a cowering wife,” He tells her once his laughter died down. “A wife, perhaps, but never some submissive weak minded mortal” He adds.

“So we have been married?”

She asks him with such peculiarity, and it makes him chuckle again. She sounds as though this has been the strangest thing he’s revealed thus far, and he can’t help but find humor in it.

“We have” He answers.

(y/n) shifts her position, pulling her legs towards her chest and staring up at him expectantly, waiting for a continuation that wouldn’t come. Sukuna merely stares at her with mild confusion.

“Well?” She asks, tilting her head forward. “Did we get married every time?”

He smirks.

“I’ve told you that you created a Binding Vow in order to be with me across centuries of eras. In the grand scheme of things, don’t you think marriage is a little… bleak?”

(y/n) shrugs a shoulder, resting her arms atop her knees as she gazes back at him curiously.

“It’s bleak in this lifetime,” She murmurs back. “Not to me, at least”

Sukuna hums, before shaking his head.

“You never change”

“Do I really?” She presses again. “For the last… thousand years… am I really the same?”

Sukuna ponders for a moment. This was a common question of hers, and each time, he struggled to answer it.

“You really want to know?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she pats her hand against the space on the bed next to her. Sukuna’s gaze shifts to it momentarily, before looking back at her. After a moment, he takes a seat.

“You are almost completely the same in every lifetime I’ve found you in,” He explains. “You’re always stubborn, you never make it easy. But you always… come around,” He turns to her. “Like now”

“You think I’m coming around?” She asks, a skeptical look in her eye that makes him smirk. He leans forward as though the next part he shares is a grave secret.

“You never want to admit it, but you always have a soft spot for me”

(y/n) raises a brow back at him in defiance.

“I think you’ve got that turned around,” She murmurs. “I think the King of Curses has a soft spot for me. And I think he’s making it everyone’s problem”

He chuckles quietly, his gaze sweeping over the gentle features of her face.

“I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory,” He tells her, raising a hand, and gently pressing the pad of his thumb against the center of her forehead. The sudden touch makes her freeze at first, but eventually she relaxes as the rest of his fingers lay in her hair. “I haven’t quite figured it out yet, I don’t know how it is that you’re never able to keep your memories,” He tilts his head as he ponders it for a moment, his eyes focused on where he’s touched her head. “But I think deep down, you know that you trust me”

(y/n) doesn’t have a witty comeback for that one. She’s still reeling from the warmth of his touch, and the weight of his words. But she feels obligated to say something when his gaze met hers again.

“I never said I believed you in all this, you know” She whispers weakly.

“You don’t believe me?” He murmurs back at her, his voice a low rumble as his hand starts to fall from her head. He doesn’t remove his touch, he lets the back of his finger trace along her temple, before slowly moving down her jaw. Sukuna doesn’t seem displeased in her words. If anything, he seems intrigued by them. “You know, you almost look the same in every life, too”

“I do?” She asks, just as his fingers fall still against her cheek.

Sukuna hums, and nods his head.

“The last I saw you, your hair was different,” He tells her. “It was longer, to about… here,” With his free hand, he gently touches her waist, and the way she tenses doesn’t go unnoticed. “You would wear it in all sorts of different styles. Pretty braids and… whatever our servants would desire to do that day,” Her eyes widen at his use of the word servants, but Sukuna glides over it. “But that was a few hundred years ago, of course. It would all be outdated now,” He drops his hand from her waist, but the other remains against her cheek, his touch ghosting over it. “Not that it wouldn’t still be exquisite”

Her eyes shift between his, trying to decipher the emotion they hold. She can’t tell if he’s amused or sorrowful. Was he disappointed that she couldn’t remember?

“This is why I’m the one who doesn’t believe you” He murmurs after a few beats pass.

(y/n’s) brows draw together just slightly, just enough to pinch the skin between them.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her voice betraying her as it shakes just a little.

“Because you look at me like that” He says, nodding at her slightly.

(y/n) blinks, doe eyes resembling the glass of the porcelain cat he’d just been mocking. Her lips are parted, formed in the smallest of pouts as she gazes up at him, that look unrelenting.

She tilts forward, her gaze flickering over his face leisurely, mapping out the black markings, and all the small details that make him so different from Yuji. The way he insists on pushing the bangs out of his face, the broader jaw, the sharper canine that she only notices when he laughs or smiles- which is quite rare. She’s admiring him so openly that Sukuna’s not sure what to do under such heavy surveillance, so he just sits there and allows her to stare.

But eventually, she sighs, and drops her legs from her chest before she crawls across her bed, moving to get under the covers again. Sukuna remains in his spot at the end, watching her without an expression as she settles into her pillow.

“Does it disturb Yuji’s rest when you take over like this?” She asks quietly as she presses her cheek into the soft comfort of her pillow.

No, the brat’s completely dozed off, that’s why he could take over like this. It’s what he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll be sure it doesn’t” He says as he stands, and walks around the bed, facing the side she’s just moved to. He crouches down to meet her eye level again, and (y/n) moves a little closer to the edge towards him.

“Okay, good,” She whispers.

She blames her exhaustion when she reaches out to him, the tips of her fingers barely prodding at the dark ink that follows the sharp curve of his jaw. Her eyes follow it as she traces it down to his chin, almost painfully slow. It takes every ounce of restraint for him not to lean into the touch.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Sukuna,” She murmurs, her fingers lingering on his chin, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I… I can’t…”

She can’t even say the words. She hardly wants to be thinking about them. But Sukuna knows her better than anyone who’s ever walked this earth, and he nods back at her in understanding before she could try to finish the thought.

“I’ve never expected anything of you,” He murmurs, before reaching up to pull her hand from his face, gently closing his fingers around her own as he moves it away. “You have been the greatest love of my life whether you’re able to remember or not,” He tells her, and she listens to him with her full attention. “And whether you believe me or not, you still will be,”

There’s the smallest of squeezes to her hand with his words, and a lump begins to build up in her throat.

“You can ask more questions another time, alright? You should get some sleep, sweetheart”

She gives him a faint nod, her eyes already feeling too heavy to keep open when she feels her blanket being dragged over her shoulders. Distantly, her mind registers that the King of Curses is tucking her into bed, but she’s too tired now to comment on it.

There’s another squeeze to her fingers, followed by a hesitation, and then the soft, unmistakable pair to two lips pressing against her knuckles. It’s not a lingering kiss, and it’s featherlight, over as soon as it began, and again, (y/n) keeps her eyes shut and doesn’t say anything.

Sukuna lays her hand down against her blanket with the gentleness of maneuvering a newborn. She hears him walking away towards her door.

“Goodnight, Sukuna”

It’s the softest call, but it’s enough to make him pause at the door and glance back at her. She still can’t look at him- she’s afraid she’ll burst into tears if she does, although she can’t quite explain the heavy emotion that’s bringing the tears to her eyes to begin with.

“Goodnight, my love”

It’s murmured so quickly before he’s hastily exiting her room that she could’ve missed it altogether, but she doesn’t. Her hand curls into her sheets as she pulls it close to her chest as she lets tonight’s conversation sink into her mind.

The truth was, she did trust him. She did believe him. And she was pretty sure this was the case for the entire time she’s known him. She’s pretty sure this was unavoidable.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everything’s blurry when she first comes to.

And everything hurts.

She tries to move, but it only results in a strangled whine being pulled from her throat as soon as she tries.

She’s on the ground. It’s covered in rubble. There’s glass pricking her arms- or maybe the gravel was just that sharp. There’s a warmth pooling under the side she’s laying on. Likely blood.

Another groan when she at least tries to get on her back in order to assess the bleeding wound on her left side, but just as she’s about to roll her body weight, she catches something in her vision.

Yuji?

He’s slumped over against a wall, and he looks no better than she feels. Covered in bruises and blood that may or may not be his own- whatever went down was ugly.

She blinks a few times to focus her vision a little better. She tries to call for him but her throat is raw and all that comes out is another whine. Either way, he’s clearly passed out and wouldn’t have responded. The fight must’ve taken everything out of him.

Oh, the fight, it slowly starts coming back to her in flashing images. That Blood Manipulation Guy. He was rough. She’s not sure how they got out of it alive- she’s not sure how they got to this point at all. Her mind’s still foggy and the only thing that’s easy to focus on is the shooting pains in her body.

That is, until there’s the sound of clicking heels and hushed, feminine voices. (y/n) hadn’t even realized her eyes had slipped shut again until those two appeared, and she peeks her eyes open to see two girls whispering between themselves as they crouch before Yuji’s body.

They look harmless enough, no older than her, and not to mention they look anxious. So nothing about her blurry assumptions about them triggered any warning flags.

That was, until they pulled out a bag of fingers. Unmistakable fingers.

She needs to get up now and she knows it. She pleads with her body to move, wishing the throbbing hot pain in her left leg would disappear just long enough for her to get to Yuji, to stop these girls from what they’re about to do.

It’s unclear how much time lapses before she notices a third figure at Yuji’s body. A curse. And he seems to have a few fingers of his own, too.

No, her voice cries, but it’s only in her head. You can’t do that.

She’s never felt so weak, her fingers barely twitching against the concrete when she’s trying to tell her body to get up. She’s sure that means none of the rest of her limbs are moving. She’s trapped there.

Her heart is pounding, her breaths are labored, dread consumes her so completely she’d throw up if there was anything left in her stomach.

It’s tough to count just how many fingers are shoved down Yuji’s throat before the curse is clamping his large hand over his mouth and forcing his head back in order to make the unconscious boy swallow every last one. With tears in her eyes she knows it’s more than what’s safe, and there’s a turmoil in her gut as she doesn’t know how to feel about what comes next.

With her heart pounding in her ears she can’t tell what exactly the fighting amongst the curse users and the curse himself was about, but suddenly only the cycloptic curse remains standing over Yuji’s body. He’s grunting and growling, still pushing the boy’s head back. (y/n) wonders if he’s swallowed all those fingers by now.

These three were idiots. But they were idiots stronger than her, and even if she’d had the strength to stop them, it would’ve been futile.

However, now, they hardly made her list of things to be afraid of in Shibuya.

The blood that’s pooled under Yuji’s body startles her- when did that get there? But after blinking a few times to clear her sight and focus just a fraction of a bit better, she realizes it’s not human blood at all, but that awful purple essence that leaves a stench behind.

“I’ll give you one second,” Comes the familiar voice that doesn’t belong to the body it erupts from. “Move”

In a flash, the small crowd around him is a good ten feet back. (y/n) could almost laugh if her throat wasn’t bloodied raw. They chose to wake him up with all those fingers, and now they’re visibly afraid of what they summoned themselves? They truly had no idea what they were in for now.

It only takes one glance towards her before Sukuna’s suddenly before her beaten form, crouching down to assess the damages.

“Now, which one of these insolent freaks did this to you?” He asks, tilting his head as his Reverse Cursed Technique took effect over her wounds with haste. “I’ll start there”

“N-none of them,” She stammers out, even though it’s the truth.

For the first time, she considers that she should be afraid of Sukuna. The other three are still trembling even from their distance, barely letting themselves breathe in his presence.

All she’s ever felt towards Sukuna is irritation, perhaps mild vexation, but mostly he just confused her. But now, she can feel the abundant amount of cursed energy wafting off of him, and despite his history in sparing her life and taking an interest in her, she briefly wonders if this is the moment he changes his mind.

The thought passes in a matter of seconds, when a pair of hands are gently aiding her in sitting upright. Even with his technique healing her wounds, there are still aches and pains that make her wince. Shards of glass falling from her skin as the healing tissue forces them out, bruises that still sting when she moves too quickly before their nasty colors disappear completely.

And Sukuna regards her with an expression she’s never seen before, but it makes her heart lurch in her chest. It’s concern. His brows are knotted, and his eyes are scanning over her repeatedly to make sure no injury was left on her body. This was followed by sizable hands mapping over her carefully just to double check.

She should be afraid, but she’s not.

In fact, as soon as those vermillion eyes return to hers, all she can feel is relief.

And she doesn’t think twice before she’s darting forward on achy knees, her arms wrapping around his neck and the rest of her body colliding into his so harsh it knocks the wind out of her for a moment, but she doesn’t mind panting to catch her breath again. She embraces Sukuna as tightly as she can, as though he’s the only savior she’s ever known, an angel painted in pure white rather than the corrupted being he truly was.

Sukuna has half a mind to grab her by the neck and remove her from him with a snarl about how her injuries were still healing, but instead he wraps an arm around her, his hand smoothing over the tattered back of her uniform.

She could only imagine what the three at the end of the corridor were thinking, watching the King of Curses embrace such a weak sorcerer.

“You understand now, don’t you sweetheart?” He asks her quietly, and she manages a small nod against his chest, before her hands tighten into fists at the red hood that lies between his shoulder blades. “It’s been a rough night, hasn’t it?” He muses, and when (y/n) doesn’t give him a response this time, he uses his free hand to pry her face away from his shirt, hooking her chin under his finger so that she’d meet his eyes.

Rough night didn’t even begin to cover what she’d been put through, what was she supposed to say?

“It’s alright now, my love, I’m here,”

Those words from him shouldn’t bring her the amount of comfort that they do. The tears in her eyes begin to drip down her cheeks. Sukuna’s smiling as he brushes them away, and despite her better judgment, she leans into the touch, seeking out even more comfort. He chuckles at the sight, but humors her as he cups the side of her face in his palm, cradling her head with the gentleness of holding a flower by it’s petals.

She won’t admit it, not now anyways, but she knows deep down that there is no force on this earth greater than the swell of love in her chest right now. It’s something she’s not sure should ever be voiced, but she has a feeling that Sukuna will find a way to draw it out of her anyways. Just as he’s made her trust him, just as he’s made her confide in him, he’s bound to find a way into drawing the confession out of her as well.

Perhaps it’s her own fault, too. Hiding the way a part of her believed everything he’s ever said to her, hiding the way it made her feel to know that she was so loved by a force so strong and unstoppable that he’d scour the earth after every lifetime in order to find her again.

I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory, he’d said. But I think deep down, you know that you trust me.

She stares at him now knowing all of this to be true, and Sukuna can almost see every thought in her dilated eyes, swallowed nearly whole by dark pupils as she clings to him now.

With a brush of his lips to the crown of her head, he makes her a promise that she’ll live through this horrid night yet.

She still holds onto him when he stands, and he lifts her up with ease, cradling her to his chest like she was merely a small and frightened child. The only unease she felt now was knowing what fates were in store for the three at the end of the hall, who Sukuna had set his sights on first.

“Now, let’s take this one on together, sweetheart, shall we?”

Her own fate was still unknown to her, but sealed in place long ago.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ cause i love to love to love to love you // i hate to hate to hate to hate you ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: thinkin about writing a snippet of their past live(s) or something. i wanted to add something like that to this fic but i wanted the reader to feel unsure if they really could trust him soooo it went a diff route. idk don't hold me to it. i'm just a girl.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna imagine #sukuna imagine #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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nightcolorz · 1 month ago

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always thinking about the development of abed and Brittas dynamic. Pov ur Britta and ur starting community collage and u meet a visibly autistic guy in ur Spanish one class and when ur introduced to him u can’t help but think of ur older brother who works with autistic kids and u wonder if ur capable of making positive change in someone’s life the way he does or if ur always going to fuck everything up like everyone says u do, and u befriend this autistic guy in ur Spanish class who realize as u soon become close friends rlly needs a type of daily support that he isn’t and has never been accommodated with and ur like wow, sad, what if I can be the support he needs, and obviously you can’t, bcus ur one person and also u know nothing about autism and also this random man from ur Spanish one class has an acute mission to push u into emotional despair bcus ur earnest desire to help him bcus of ur personal internal conflict combined with ur huge amount of ignorance reminds him of his mother and he wants to consciously emulate his relationship with her with u so that he can use footage of u to make a shitty art film about his childhood trauma and that’s when u realize that u aren’t ur brother and also are stupid asf to think that u can be like ur brother for ur adult friend who is low key having some form of psychotic episode but even still you’ve grown to love this autistic Man U met at ur Spanish one class and it breaks ur heart everyday that u will never be enough to meet his neglected emotional needs so u decide to become a psychology major so that maybe one day u will be adequate enough to do this right, bcus rlly u have a lot of unaddressed existential terror that the world is a cruel unjust place that u are too insignificant to do anything about and it fills the hole in ur heart a little to feel like u are making an impact in at least one vulnerable persons life, but ultimately ur an ignorant and self centered collage student and ur autistic friend from Spanish one loves to remind u that u are not enough and ur attempts to help him will only ever backfire or register to him as infantilizing condescension and as u try to therapize ur adult friend u become the one getting therapied as he turns every attempt of urs on its head so that now u are the one being confronted by ur own psychological problems which eventually come to a head when he comforts u about ur own failure while he’s having a hallucinatory psychotic episode prompted by his mom giving up on him where he tells u in song form that you are “broken” bcus u desperately want to help people but u lack the tools to make any positive change and u cry a whole lot about this bcus from now forward u are forced to reckon with the reality that u are not qualified to fix ur disabled friend bcus ur a psychology student in collage and he has autism and psychosis and childhood trauma and all u can rlly do about that is be a good friend and an adult about it and also accept that ur disabled friend is just as much of a person and an adult as you are and u cant violate his autonomy by using him as a tool for ur own self betterment and now u don’t use ur baby voice on him quite as much bcus you’ve learned that ur friend is going to psychologically torture the shit out of u if u try to be his mom so instead u set ur sights on being his collage friend who he can talk shit with and such and everyone’s just going to try their best

Then pov ur abed and ur like lol. Britta is Talking to me Like im five. What if I stop talking to her to emulate my childhood speech delay so that she’s forced to deal with the burden my mom did and she leaves me like everyone else does so I can make a movie about it. Oops she’s still here. Well, her romantic subplots would make rlly good sitcom storylines in the tv show that is my life. 🍜🍜🍜🍜🍜coolcoll

#If this is gibberish is cuz I’m awake in the middle of the night feverishly scratching the hives on my legs #abed nadir #britta perry #abed community #nbc community #community nbc #community

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criticallyinneedofadar · 1 month ago

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The Weight of the Weary

A/N: Gil-Gadaddy was calling my name. Alliance of Shadows is still on it's way! I just needed to appease the high king a little bit.

Pairing: Gil- Galad X Reader

Warnings: None

______________________________________________________________

Lindon shines brightest in the evening sun, the tree casting the city in its warm glow, its warm light spills into your private chambers where you and Gil-Galad sit together, savoring a rare moment of peace. He’s quiet, his posture stiff, and you can see the weight of his duties pressing down on him, even in this brief respite.

You watch him for a moment, studying the lines of tension etched into his brow. His mind is far away, no doubt torn between Elrond and Galadriel—two of the most important figures in his life, and two of the most stubborn. A soft smile tugs at your lips as you think of Galadriel, so full of fire and willfulness, almost like a daughter to you both, despite being much older than you both. You glance at Gil-galad, raising a playful eyebrow.

“You were a bit harsh on her today, you know,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Galadriel might act tough, but even she has her limits.”

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly anticipating your teasing admonishment. His lips curve into a faint smile, but it’s tempered by weariness. “I was not harsh, merely... firm,” he replies, though there’s a trace of doubt in his voice. “She needed to be reminded of her place.”

You chuckle softly. “She’s not a child, love. You can’t keep her reined in forever. Besides, she’s as much your family as I am. You don’t have to keep your guard up with her all the time.”

He leans back, his expression shifting from playful to weary, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as if to release some of the strain. “I feel stretched between them—between Elrond’s endless optimism and Galadriel’s relentless determination. It is like trying to balance two storms, each one pulling me in a different direction.”

You place a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you. “They both want what’s best, but they are different in how they go about it. They look to you because they trust your wisdom, your strength.” You pause, softening your tone. “But sometimes, I think you try too hard to keep them happy, to keep everyone in line.”

He sighs deeply, the sound of someone who has carried far too much for far too long. “I must. I am their king, their leader. If I falter, if I show weakness—”

“You’re not weak,” you interrupt gently, moving closer to him. “But you don’t have to carry all of this on your own.”

Gil-Galad looks at you, his deep eyes searching your face, as if he’s unsure how to accept that offer. He’s always been proud, always the one to shoulder the burdens of his people, his friends, and now you can see how that weight has begun to wear him down. Your heart aches for him, for the man who bears so much responsibility yet so rarely lets anyone see his vulnerability.

“You’re not alone in this,” you murmur, taking his hand in yours. “Let me help you, even if it’s just in moments like this. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your skin as he looks at you with a tenderness that’s usually hidden behind the mantle of kingship. “I forget, sometimes, that I don’t have to. With you, I never have to.”

You smile softly, leaning into him, resting your head against his shoulder. The warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breath, brings you a sense of peace you know he needs as much as you do.

“You’ve carried so much on your shoulders for so long,” you whisper. “Let me take some of the burden, if even for a little while. You’re my husband first and a king second. Lean on me as much as you lean on them.”

For a moment, the world outside fades away. There are no councils, no pressing decisions, no wars or power struggles. It’s just the two of you, bound together by love and trust. His hand rests against the small of your back as he pulls you closer, his voice low and filled with a gratitude that touches your heart.

“You are my greatest strength,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “With you beside me, I know I can bear whatever comes.”

You lift your head, gazing into his eyes. “And you will,” you reply, your voice full of conviction. “But not alone.”

He smiles then, a real smile that reaches his eyes, and you feel the tension begin to ease from his body as he leans into the comfort of your embrace. You urge him to sit down in front of you. As he does, you begin to brush through his long brown hair, a hum of contentment leaving your husband as he relaxes into your pampering. Allowing this moment of relief, however brief it may be.

#gil galad #gil gadaddy #the rings of power #gil galad x reader #gil galad x you #fanfiction #writing

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with-my-calamitous-love · 6 months ago

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THE SIGN ON YOUR HEART SAID ITS STILL RESERVED FOR ME

edward elric x f! reader

you remind edward how beautiful you think he is.

smut (ish), 18+, body worship, soft, lots of cuddling, mentions of insecurity and (edward’s) trauma, edward cries during sex lol

inspired by the alchemy

edward has a complicated relationship with love.

he knows he has people he loves, people he holds dear to him. he knows that there are people in his life he'd sacrifice an arm and a leg for, people he'd risk everything to feel their warmth. not all sacrifices came to fruition. but he knew he'd do it.

most around him underestimate the guilt he carries upon his shoulders. the guilt of failure, the guilt of knowing the truth. edward was wracked with the burden of knowledge- the knowledge that he might not be able to reverse his mistakes. its accepting love from others that edward struggles with the most.

edward feels his mothers love far in-between. he feels it when he shovels a warm, nostalgic bowl of stew into his mouth, wondering what exactly made milk of all ingredients taste so good. he feels it when he ties his golden locks into a woven braid, trying to replicate the way his mother's fingers would knit her own auburn locks. she made fixing her hair look like the northern lights. he felt the sensation of love, but more strongly, a burning firey passion as he remembers the embers that erupted from his childhood home. he remembers the orange glint against his brother's armor as he burns down his home and his past, swearing only to return when he is whole once again. edward feels the remnants of her love blow past him as he stares at the rolling green hills of resembool from the train window, heading towards the sunlight. he was never the religious type, but he sometimes thought that his mother was in the sun now, shining down on him and al.

edward feels guilt-laced love from his younger brother, alphonse. he still finds himself waking up in a cold sweat, hearing his younger self plead with the universe to give him his brother back. he'd sacrifice his arm, his soul, he'd give it free if it meant al’s life- and he did. edward tightens his fist as he remembers the day, not a shadow of a doubt in his mind that he'd sacrifice his arm over and over and over again to save his brothers soul. but the same fists that once burned with determination fall apart with grievance, as edward eyes shake with ghostly tears. is it his fault that al is trapped in a suit of armor? is his fault al lost his body? they should have taken me. he thinks. it would be sick for the truth universe to sacrifice his whole body, but taking away his dear younger brother was much more twisted. his eyes stare with promise at alphonse as he rests, promising his soul that he will restore what has been lost. his love for his brother ran deeper than the sea. edward's desire for his limbs back is placed on the backburner, putting alphonse back together is what allows edward to rest with a smile on his face.

edward isn't always sure how to feel your love.

he himself, feels incomplete. but with you, he feels liquid sun being poured into the crevices of the heart he bared to you and only you. beyond just his automail limbs, edward's body was scarred in and out. painful echoes of his past embedded into his skin. stories of loss, determination, and a want to feel complete lingers in his ribs as you kiss his skin, treating him like a delicate masterpiece. he isn't much sure of how to feel, or why he feels good. he was a man of science, a prodigy of alchemy, but your love was a encryption he could not decipher.

he always seems writhe when you touch him, your fingers running across his toned abdomen making him feel heaven-struck. he sighs your name, gold locks lazily thrown over his shoulders as his head dips into the nape of your neck. his metal arm pulls you closer to him, the cool metal contrasting with the searing warmth of your arousal. edward allows his lips to press against your collarbone, nipping at your skin reminding you of his presence. he may not have always accepted your love, but he sure as hell was going to make you feel his. all of it.

you rip a deep groan from his chest as your hands as you straddle his waist, your delicate fingers caressing where the metal met his scarred chest. "edward." your siren voice tears through the gasps and soft moans that filled his bedroom. "relax. its just me."

his golden eyes flicker up at yours, pulling his lips away from your skin. he made sure to leave loving-red marks right across your heart, as if he were writing his name in a special code reserved for you. his eyes are hazy and love-drunk, looking up at you like you're the only thing in this universe that matters. his arms, human and metal, strong and toned, hold you to his waist as if you would be ripped away from him at any moment.

"s-sorry." he heaves, his voice was deep and honeyed, eyes not breaking contact with your bare body for even a second. his voice was apologetic, but he couldn't hide the lust and hunger that formed in his chest and seeped out through his eyes. well, its not like he tried to hide it.

your hand moves up to caress his jawline, pressing your lips to his temple. "give in. let me love you." your voice is gentle, but you mean it as a desperate plea. loving edward was not an option; loving edward was an obligation. loving edward was as essential as the veins that pumped blood through your body. you wouldn't stop loving him, even if you wanted to.

edward's eyes screw shut. "only if you let me love you too."

your lips curve into a smile, and then into an O shape as edward presses his mouth to your chest, kissing your breasts with soft, fervent messages of love. his kisses sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, only growing more intense as he moves his arm up to cup your breast. he massages the tender flesh, treating you as if you were sacred. each one of his touches, his kisses, and his grasps was his way of giving his soul over to you. right now, edward felt as though it always belonged to you.

his golden eyes watch longingly as you throw your head back, taking the opportunity to kiss your neck. he gladly sinks his teeth in, as if leaving the seal of his love on your skin. edward loved you like it was breathing for him. he hoped that people would see your effervescent beauty, but more importantly the lovebites left on you, and know that edward elric was the one that marked them there. they spelled out 'mine' in a way only edward could decipher it.

your body is buzzing and hot with arousal. you feel the warm feeling start at your chest, slowly moving down your stomach and then to your core. edward hums satisfied against your skin, as if able to feel exactly what you feel right now. the pink tinge on his face suggests a linger of embarrassment. he had never showed this much of himself to anyone. it were as if kissing you and worshipping you distracted himself from his pains, allowing himself to esca[e in the shelter of your touch.

you run your fingers through his golden locks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as his lips press themself over and over again to your chest. he wants to feel you, all of you, and just you. if his attention wasn't tied to some old book on alchemy, then his mind riddled itself with trauma. his brain spent hours writing equations, deciphering codes, tying all his pains, regrets and wrongdoings into a messy puzzle of hurt. his mind was a labyrinth, a maze that not even he could escape from. you were his refuge, you were his safe place. he worries he's killing the mood by being so nervous, not able to look up at you as he's kissing your chest.

but as you sit atop his lap, kissing his head and whispering a melody of "i love you" and "you're doing so good" you tell him that its okay. that its okay to feel good, that its okay to trust, that its okay to be loved.

you place your hands on his chin and pull his head to face you. you take him in, all of him- his hazy, sunset eyes and his blonde hair messily thrown over his muscular shoulders like a golden waterfall. every contour of his muscles scream at you to love him stronger, the way the scars paint stories over his heart. there was no space left between you two. your skin on his, two souls colliding with one another.

"how do you feel?" your voice is just barely above a whisper, looking deep into his eyes with yours. he cant help but let his eyes wander down, watching the way you fit so perfectly on top of him. the way your breasts are covered in marks, his marks, the way your thighs spread to straddle him, he can feel your wetness on him, the heat of your love radiating just for him to bask in. its almost too much.

"good." edward breathes out, words failing him at this moment. but its enough for you. he is enough for you.

your hands make their way down to his shaft, stroking the length in your hands. edward bites his lip, head moving back as your hands work diligently to pleasure him. you kiss just below his ear, reminding him of your presence. "its okay." you coo.

he takes that as permission, allowing soft moans and grunts to escape his mouth. his voice is raspy yet heavenly, the vulnerability and trust manifesting as pleasure coursing through his veins. he sighs, never feeling this much pleasure in his entire life. slowly, you lower yourself onto his cock, sucking in a deep breath as you feel yourself stretch around him.

"fuck." edward hisses, feeling your warm, tight walls around his length. his grip around your waist tightens, as if still wishing to pull you in closer. you hands travel up to his shoulder blades, digging your nails into the his soft skin while you adjust to his size. the warmth is intoxicating for him, feeling tears bless his eyes at the overwhelming pleasure. he's so embarrassed, feeling a stray tear escape down his cheek. he doesn't think he deserves it. to feel this good, for his incomplete and ravaged body to be granted this much pleasure. for an angel to touch him after the taboos he's committed. edward knows equivalent exchange, and he knows that none of this is good is equivalent to all his wrongdoings.

but that's what love does sometimes, he concludes as you kiss the tear away from his cheek. you don't say a word, but rather you silently tell edward that its okay. fuck, he was starting to love being loved.

the tears cease to stop as you continue to grind on his length, the pleasure overtaking the both of you. your mind is blissfully blank, letting your body speak love to the crevice's of edward's soul. he watched as the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, like the tide of the ocean washing away any painful memories written in the sand. the bed was unmade, the sheets were crinkled, the clocks ticked s time that you two should have been sleeping, but none of it mattered now. the greatest moment of intimacy you and edward ever shared was not when he removed his clothes to bare skin. it was when he allowed you to see him at his lowest moment, letting you witnessed the most unloved parts of his body and his soul. as he slowly unraveled in front of you, feeling his orgasm slowly approach, he worried his imperfections may scare you off.

but you kiss him, kiss his lips so perfectly, you remind him that you'll love him anyway. you'll love him not in despite of his imperfections, but because of his imperfections. it was who he was- edward elric was everything you wanted love to be. and more.

edward tears a groan from his chest as he feels your wet walls clench around him tighter than ever before, unable to hold back his thick release. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, pulling you closer as if to hide. he wonders if it always felt that good.

"s-sorry. i did it to early, shit i-" he rambles, and you can't help but giggle. it was rare when you could witness him so vulnerable. you shush him, pecking his lips and reminding him that its okay.

"you were perfect, ed." you reassure him, your voice cutting through all his worries and doubts. thats all the permission he needs to pull you down onto the bed with him, laying you down on top of him. you know he doesn't like to sleep on his side because of the weight of his arm. he also didn't to be away from your warmth, not even for a moment. he reaches over, pulling the crinkled sheets over both your bodies. a warm hum escapes from his lips, his entire body feeling as blissfully sweet as honey.

"how do you feel?" he checked in with you, his hand travelling up to cup your chin. he studied you, a part of him still being unable to accept the fact that you're real.

"loved." you hum. edward's kissed lips curve into a soft smile at your words.

"good. i want you to feel my love. always." he reminds you as he kisses your temple. even if edward didn't always accept love from others, he'd be damned if he didn't give every ounce of his love to you.

"how do you feel?" you redirect, checking on him. his blonde eyes stare to the ceiling, the gear s in his brain pondering for a moment before pinpointing the right word.

"complete." he concludes, planting one last kiss to your head before letting the two of you drift off into sleep. edward felt complete with you.

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metalomagnetic · 2 months ago

Note

Any chance you can share an excerpt of the Harry/Sirius fic you have planned? 🥺

“That’s teenage years for you, kid; you’re always angry.”

Harry frowns. “You think that’s all there is to it?”

“Sure. I was that way, too.”

“Was?” Harry asks, and he’s finally smiling. A tiny thing, frail, but it’s a smile. “Seems like you’re still going through your teenage years, then.”

“Cheeky bastard.” Sirius swats him over the head, playfully.

The frail smile turns into a grin. There’s a mischievous side to Harry, buried deep under the trauma, the burden of being the Boy Who Lived.

Harry reaches for the bottle again. “Gross,” he shudders, making a face after he swallows. “Does it get better? The taste?”

“Eventually,” Sirius says, opening a second bottle, now that he relinquished the first to Harry. “You get used to it.”

He got Regulus drunk in this very room some twenty years before.

His mother sighs in his head. She sounds resigned.

“How about those?” Harry nods at the pack of cigarettes Mundungus snuggled in for Sirius. “Will you teach me?”

“Not much to teach,” Sirius says, giving Harry a fag, taking one for himself.

He lights them with his wand and tells Harry to breathe the smoke in.

Predictably, he chokes.

“Being a bad boy isn’t easy, Harry,” Sirius mocks.

“It’s disgusting,” Harry wheezes, still choking, but when he calms he tries again, to the same result.

By the time he finishes, Harry grows even paler, says he’s a bit dizzy.

How innocent he is; how young. Sirius remembers the first time he smoked, that dizziness Harry speaks of.

He was thirteen, and life was good, even if it didn’t feel like it. Now he wishes he could go back to those times.

Would you abandon us again? If you could go back, would you still betray us? the voices demand.

“I’ll teach you to ride a bike,” Sirius promises. “Next summer. I’ll buy one. Miss riding, anyway.”

“Drinking, smoking, riding bikes, moping around in corners, being angry- what else is on the requirement list for being a bad boy?”

“I don’t mope around,” Sirius argues. “And never in corners. I brood in full view of everyone.”

Harry laughs. It might be the whiskey, but there’s some colour returning to his face. He almost looks alive.

He’ll die, eventually. Everyone around you dies, brother.

Regulus was always a spoilsport.

“Alright, alright. Brooding, then. What else?”

“Fucking,” Sirius says, just to embarrass him, and it works like a charm. Harry goes red, instantly. “Can’t be a bad boy if you don’t fuck around.”

Harry looks away. He runs his fingers through his hair again, making it stick out more than usual. It still doesn’t remind him of James.

When James did it, there was intention behind it. He liked his hair like that, and he knew some girls liked it, too.

When Harry does it, there’s nothing intentional about it. It screams of insecurity, something that wasn’t in James’ vocabulary.

“Well,” Harry says, so red he’s turning purple. “You’ll have to teach me how to do that, too.”

A warning rings in Sirius’ head.

Don’t poke at it, his mother advises him. Leave it be, Sirius.

Sirius never listened to her, so he won’t start now.

“You know girls that won’t mind your godfather joining you for a bit of fun?” Sirius teases. “Why, Harry, you’re already running with a bad crowd in that case.” Harry snorts, gulps more whiskey. “I barely know any girls at all,” he mumbles. “But I’m sure no girl would say no to you; it’s more likely they’ll protest to me, really.”

“First lesson,” Sirius says. “No self-depreciating jokes. No poor-me attitude. No one finds that attractive.”

“Well, that’s who I am,” Harry snaps, that temper of his rearing its head for a second.

“Even so, you hide that shit if you want to pull birds. Pretend you’re confident, even when you aren’t.”

“That’s wrong, though. Misleading someone, lying-”

“Bad boys lie all the time.”

Harry huffs. He slumps back into the couch. “Forget it. I can’t be a bad boy.”

“It’s not for everyone,” Sirius agrees. “Plus, if you want to be really bad, you’d need to do some prison time. Not worth it, I assure you.”

“Being locked up in a cupboard doesn’t count?” Harry asks. “Did about ten years of that.”

#sirius black #harry potter

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lya-dustin · 4 months ago

Text

Kinslayer, Kingslayer, King

For @hoosbandewan

Aemond x Aegon’s wife! Laenor's daughter!reader(aka a black reader)

Cw: murder, fraticide, regicide, conspiracy, manipulation, infanticide(blood and cheese happened sorry), revenge, whatever murdering your husband is called. Some smut and knife play.

The reader came out rather evil and i love it

You play the dutiful wife all too well.

How could you not when you pretended to be the loyal daughter only to turn on the woman who birthed you for a crown?

Rhaenyra had deserved it, she killed your father to be with Daemon and then named your bastard brother heir over you, her only trueborn child and firstborn. Then there was what she allowed Daemon to do to your only child that night.

Aegon deserved it too, he never knew the woman he had and now he wouldn’t have you nor his crown either. Aegon who took everything for granted and then some more. He had taken you even if Aemond was the one you loved since you were children.

As far as you know, Aegon was the one who killed Rhaenys at Rook’s Rest.

Aemond will finally have what was owed to him.

“It looks better on you than it did, who would’ve thought Aegon’s head would be too small for such a burden.” You whisper as you light a candle to the Stranger.

Orwyle is too vigilant and good at his craft to allow the two of you the chance to finish the job, but nature will take its course soon enough. The moment he is dead, Aemond will seize the crown and you will be his in truth.

Once Aegon is dealt with and his mother put away to keep her from interfering with your glorious reign, you will rain fire and blood on your darling mother and her husband.

Jaehaerys had been killed by Daemon just as he once ordered the death of your father, Ser Laenor. Aemond wonders if Daemon knew the true parentage of the boy seeing he went after him in the first place. Perhaps the man did and that is why your sweet little son was beheaded in his sleep along with his nurse.

You want blood and to salt their wounds as they beg for mercy you will not give.

Aemond will give you another son, one who will not have Aegon named as his father, one that will be king after him. You have always wanted to name your son Aemon. A tribute to your grandmother, to your lineage, and most importantly a reminder that your claim was superior even to that of his dearly departed father.

Viserys and Aegon ruled because of the Great Council, but by tradition the throne should have passed to you had Rhaenys not been passed over for his father.

“Once your mourning period is over, we will be wed and crowned together. Grandsire should’ve have crowned you with him, those loyal to you would have come to our side and your mother left with no choice to surrender.” Aemond will keep this promise, he will not deny you what you are owed. Aegon had not cared about the insult to you, he never cared to respect you and keep his vows and always caved to their manipulative grandfather’s pressures.

Aemond was not weak like him, he rode the largest dragon, he was the true threat to your mother’s crumbling rule and his brother’s underserved crown.

His mother may hate him, but he had you. You who shared his drive and anger and loved him to his bones.

You forgave him for killing your brother, you understood it was an accident in his part, you will forgive him for killing Rhaenys to kill his brother.

“Six moons is too long, my love, I want to wed you now.” You kissed him with great passion, your loss had ignited a fire inside you so hot you no longer knew what to do with it. “I want a son; I need your seed to take once more. Daemon may have won the battle, but I will win this fucking war.”

“No, my darling, we will win this fucking war.” The Prince Regent does not deny you your desires and in the hour of the Wolf you threaten the handmaiden caring for Aegon that night to make his poppy milk strong enough to fell an elephant.

By morning you are a widow, by noon his mother is sent to Oldtown and by the end of the week the two of you are wedded and bedded.

You do not wear black or green, you wear red. Blood red and cut so low it was considered too scandalous for his pious mother. But no matter, those who speak against you will have to voice their complaints with your dragons, and your new husband was the most fearsome of the three.

The fear they have of the two of you keeps tongues from wagging, his mother looks horrified as you lick the dagger he feeds you the best of his plate like a brazen whore.

Alicent’s rule was over, yours had only just begun.

“A dragon cannot change it’s scales,” you use his own dagger to tease him, straddling him and riding him with a torturous pace.

“It is merely our nature.” The new king groans as the cold of the dagger trailing down his throat heightens his own pleasure. He wanted to take his time with you, but your wickedness knows no limits as you push him to the brink of madness.

Aemond is still lost in the haze of his climax, still sheathed inside you as he fills you with his seed, when his own dagger is stabbed into his black heart.

The last words he hears as he dies are, “Did you think I did not know who killed my grandmother, dear husband? Did you think I truly forgave you for killing my little brother and getting our baby boy murdered, sweet boy?

When i said I would win the war, i meant I, alone, would rule."

sequel: The Cruel

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x wife!reader #cw murder #ewan mitchell #hotd fanfic #aemond x black!reader

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suzukiblu · 7 months ago

Text

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! ( + non-chrono link for app users )

“Um, yeah,” Billy says, still internally cringing at himself. “Just–not just the bare minimum, I mean? Like–other things too. Books and games and snacks and . . . whatever you think’s fun, or whatever you want to learn about, or whatever.”

He’s definitely been in “homes” that didn’t give him things like that. He doesn’t want Lynn to feel like . . . a burden, or a problem, or just unimportant and unwanted like that, so . . . yeah, he’s definitely gonna get him things that aren’t just the bare minimum. As many of those things as he can, he thinks.

Batman gave them so much money, and that’s not even counting the stipend. Billy can definitely afford to give Lynn the kind of stuff none of his foster families wanted to give him. So, like–he’s gonna, obviously.

Of course he’s gonna.

Lynn ducks his head a little, then swallows uncomfortably. Billy resists the urge to nudge Tawky towards him again. He wonders if he could just, like . . . offer Lynn a hug, maybe? Maybe that’d be okay?

Or maybe it’d be weird and pushy, or maybe stupid, or maybe just make Lynn feel uncomfortable. They’ve never met before today and they’ve barely spent any time together at all, and Billy doesn’t want to be the type of foster parent who demands a relationship that just isn’t there, even if he’s . . . well, not really just a foster parent, he hopes. But those fosters just always made him feel like they were more interested in getting attention and looking good to strangers than anything about him.

He wants Lynn to feel like he’s interested in him–wants Lynn to know he’s interested in him, and cares about him, and isn’t gonna ignore him or hate him if he doesn’t follow some stupid script he’s got in his head of how he “should” be.

He definitely wants that.

“It’s okay if you don’t know what you think’s fun yet,” he tries, hoping he’s not assuming too much. “It’s probably kinda overwhelming, with, um . . . literally everything happening all at once and your whole life getting turned on its head, um . . . basically five minutes after it really started, so . . .”

“I was alive before I woke up,” Lynn says, a little stilted. “I–saw things. Learned things.”

“Things about yourself, or about how Cadmus wanted you to be?” Billy asks.

Lynn–pauses. Frowns.

“. . . um,” he says. “I . . . don’t know.”

Billy is pretty sure Cadmus just sucks, actually. Like. A lot.

“Okay,” he says. “Well, that’s okay too. You can take your time figuring it out. There’s no rush or anything.”

“Superman won’t like me if I don’t figure it out,” Lynn says, his frown deepening. “If I’m not–useful.”

. . . okay, Billy thinks. Cadmus really sucks, actually.

“Superman doesn’t care about people being useful,” he says firmly. “That’s like, the last thing Superman cares about. He just likes people for who they are.”

“. . . who I am is . . . fake, though,” Lynn says, his eyes slanting away. “It’s–programmed.”

“So?” Billy asks, reminding himself superheroes don’t burn down weird basement labs outside of extenuating circumstances. And anyway, the sidekicks already messed Cadmus up pretty bad as it was. “Lots of people get programmed. Red Tornado’s programmed, and he’s really nice. And Wonder Woman got made out of clay as a little kid, so she got, like, magic programming. Like, to be her ‘age’, you know?”

Lynn . . . blinks, slowly, and then glances back at him.

“You really think that?” he asks. Billy’s a little confused by the question. He doesn’t think it; he knows it.

“I mean, yeah?” he says. “I just mean–it doesn’t make you fake. That’s all. Especially ‘cuz you can, you know . . . learn stuff yourself, if you wanna. You don’t have to just stay the way you got taught to be.”

Lynn stares at him for a long, silent moment, then looks down at the table again.

“How long have you had–uh, Uncle Tawky?” he asks, abrupt and obviously trying to change the subject. That’s fine, Billy thinks; he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. And Lynn’s gotta learn how to do that kind of thing anyway, so it’s good practice for more complicated conversations, he figures.

“Since I was ten,” he says. “He came from India! I met him in Fawcett, though, and he’s been my best friend ever since! He’s really great. And a respectable gentleman, so you don’t need to be scared of him or anything. I mean, I don’t know if you’re scared of tigers or not? Because probably you’re tiger-proof? Like–normally, I mean. But yeah.”

“. . . I’m not scared of tigers,” Lynn says, looking a little bewildered, for some reason. Billy beams at him.

“Great!” he says happily. Tawky could probably hurt Lynn, since he’s magic too, but he obviously wouldn’t, so he’s just . . . not gonna draw attention to that right now, obviously. That wouldn’t make Lynn feel very safe, he’s pretty sure.

But Tawky could also probably stop Lynn if he got mind-controlled, so . . . maybe it would make him feel safer? Billy’s not sure, actually.

. . . hm. Yeah, he needs to figure that out.

“. . . you’ve really had him since you were ten?” Lynn asks, looking–hesitant, now. Billy doesn’t know why, but nods.

“Yup!” he says. “He’s the best.”

“. . . are you sure you want me to have him?” Lynn asks, still looking hesitant.

“Yeah!” Billy confirms cheerfully. “Tawky’s the best! He’ll protect you. And keep you from having bad dreams, too.” Tawky’s really good at eating nightmares, so yeah, Lynn won’t have to worry about bad dreams at all.

“Uh,” Lynn says, then very gingerly reaches over and picks up Tawky, and then sets him in his lap with a weird look on his face. He looks a little–emotional, maybe? At least for him, anyway. He’s not very expressive, so far. “Um. Okay.”

Billy just beams at him again. He’s really glad they like each other.

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says as he looks down at Tawky, voice a little abrupt again. “Um–Dad."

#cheshire #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

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cynosfunnyjokes · 2 years ago

Text

A Heart’s A Heavy Burden

Characters: Howl x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: None that I can think of.

Summary: Loving Howl Pendragon isn’t easy.

Word Count: 827

Summary: Not really edited or anything- I’m sure there’s mistakes all throughout but I wrote this while watching Howl’s Moving Castle for the umpteenth time lmao. No pronouns are used for the reader!

Apprenticing under Howl was such a joy- never was there a dull moment. He would brighten up the room with his smile- his laugh. It was so contagious that you and Markl couldn't fight the grins growing on your own faces.

Meeting Howl on its own was nothing but luck- you had found yourself in some trouble with the guards, their stupid remarks making you nothing but uncomfortable- and then poof, a stranger was there, whisking you away.

How strange that the random man was Howl himself- a well-known sorcerer and someone you looked up to. Of course, you nervously asked him to take you on as an apprentice, eagerly telling him about your interest in magic since you were young.

He simply laughed, smiling that bright smile everyone adored, and simply agreed to take you in.

All went well- he was a great teacher after all. Even with him being gone at random times throughout the day, you had Markl to spend time with to practice. And then there was Calcifer and his witty remarks. They never bothered you, simply jokingly throwing one back at him.

It didn't take long for feelings to grow for the mysterious sorcerer- everyone noticed it but Howl himself. Not that it was surprising.

Even Calfcifer noticed but never said about it, unlike Markl who made random remarks during the day in whispers, causing you to hide your face while the blush crept up to your ears.

Although one day, while cleaning up the firepit during the time Howl was away, Calficer clicked his tongue at you.

Raising an eyebrow, you turned your head to the burning ball of fire in front of you, silently asking him “what?”

“You really do love him, don't you?”

It was so sudden, it felt so random-

But that’s all he said. That's all he needed to say.

You were undeniably in love with Howl, and you could only hope the feelings were reciprocated. Maybe, just maybe they were.

All hope went down the drain the moment Sophie showed up. Suddenly, Howl wasn't around as much anymore- and when he was, he was with her.

It was always her. Sophie this, Sophie that.

Slowly, the feelings of sadness crept in, their sharp nails jabbing into your heart.

Is this what heartbreak felt like?

Eventually, you stopped leaving your room- opting to just study the days away instead of focusing on the pain residing in your heart.

Markl would stop by to check on you, dropping off food that would stay nothing but untouched, slowly growing cold as time passed.

Even though you appreciated Markl’s company, it didn't help that he often talked about Sophie- how cool she was. All this, all that.

It was all too much.

Howl never stopped in to talk- to check on you. Not that you expected him to. He was his own person who had his own things to do. He was a busy man after all. But still, you found yourself clinging to that hope- just to have it crushed.

Eventually, even Markl stopped popping in, choosing to set the food down on your table before retreating to Sophie.

It was fine. It was all fine. That's what you always told yourself.

But yet... Why did it hurt so much?

Pressing shaking hands against your tear-filled eyes, the only sound that could be heard was small sobs that you were trying oh so hard to muffle.

It was so unfair.

You wanted him to look at you like he does her. To experience the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, to feel his loving gaze.

But that would never happen.

There wasn't much point in staying there anymore- you refused to leave your room unless it was to quickly run to the bathroom, refused to even leave your bed unless it was necessary.

What was the point of staying there? Where the reminder of your unrequited love stayed?

It was raining outside, the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the window helping drown out any sounds that escaped you.

Bag in hand that was full of a few necessities and a small photo of you and Howl, you stopped to stare at Howl’s bedroom door for a minute.

Loving him hurt- but it wasn't something you regretted. If only things were different, maybe it would've been better. Such a false sense of hope.

Howl seemed happier with Sophie- even Calcifer and Markl were happier.

You weren't needed anymore.

So without a single thought, you turned on your heels and climbed out the hallway window to avoid Calcifer knowing.

Landing on the muddy ground below with a let thump, you looked at what used to be your home one last time, thoughts racing a thousand miles per second. You didn't want to stay and be reminded of how much happier everyone was without you.

So you left, the rain being your only company as you sobbed into the night.

#howl pendragon #howl’s moving castle #fanfiction #fanfic #howl x reader #howl x sophie #unrequited love #angst #cynosfunnyjokes writes #sophie hatter #calcifer #studio ghibli #howl pendragon x reader #non binary reader #fanfiction writer #angst fanfic #sunny needs to stop writing angst-#oneshot #short fiction

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dewdropdinosaur · 8 months ago

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Rubber Ducky, You're the One

LUCIFER X READER Summary: Lucifer has had a hell of a week, no pun intended. But you know just what he needs to relax. Warnings: Implied nakedness, cussing. Rating: PG-13 For the wonderful @anon-of-the-void REQUESTS OPEN

In the depths of Hell, amidst the chaos and cacophony of damned souls, Lucifer Morningstar, the charismatic and somewhat prideful King of Hell, found himself buried under the weight of his responsibilities. Yes, the King did actually work despite his duck inventing hyper focus. From managing the unruly demons to negotiating with powerful overlords and complaints from citizens, his days were consumed by the ceaseless demands of ruling the underworld. And as if that wasn't enough, the relentless manifestations of the seven deadly sins only added to his burdens(Mammon is a right pain in the arse)

Each day seemed to blend into the next, the weight of his crown growing heavier with every passing moment. Despite his unparalleled charm and wit, even Lucifer had his limits.

One particularly exhausting day, Lucifer trudged back to his imposing castle, his shoulders slumped with weariness. His mind buzzed with the endless tasks that awaited him, and his steps echoed with the weight of his concerns. The grand halls of his fortress felt suffocating, the shadows whispering reminders of his never-ending duties. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his usually vibrant demeanor dulled by the weight of his burdens.

As he entered his private chambers, he took off his top hat and sat his cane to prop against the adjacent wall. Walking to his desk and plopping down on the plush office chair, he groaned into his hands and buried his head in them.

Only when the small creak of his door sounded did he look up after what felt like hours. He was met with a sight that momentarily lifted the heavy veil of stress from his soul. There, amidst the dim glow of flickering candles, stood his beloved Y/N, radiant and serene, a gentle smile gracing her lips. They had been together for quite some time - the Hellish monarch getting a second chance at love despite thinking that the time for him was long passed.

"Welcome home, ducky," she greeted him, her voice like a soothing melody amidst the chaos of Hell.

Lucifer's heart swelled with warmth at the sight of her. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/N was his beacon of light, his solace in the storm.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice softened by the tenderness that enveloped him in her presence despite his tiredness still coming through.

"What are you doing here?"

Y/N stepped forward, her gaze unwavering as she reached out to take his hand. "I could tell you needed a break," she replied, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "And so, I thought I might help if you’ll allow me?"

“No, no darling. I’m alright.”

“Bullshit Luci.”

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I know but I choose to. Nothing in return is needed - I just want to dote on you.”

With a gentle tug, to which he did not fight against due to his weakened state, she led him to the grand marble bath that awaited them; its waters shimmering invitingly in the soft glow of candlelight. The sight of it stirred a sense of longing within Lucifer, a longing for respite, for a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Wordlessly, Y/N began to undress him, her movements tender and deliberate. She stripped away the layers of his regal attire, each garment a symbol of the responsibilities he bore. And with each piece that fell away, Lucifer felt a weight lift from his soul, leaving him feeling vulnerable yet liberated in her presence. Y/N never failed to make the prideful demon shiver. Despite being the harbinger of sin himself, Lucifer always faltered under to gaze - making him feel so small in the best way. Like she could envelop him in her warm embrace and the world would all be alright; that he could be taken care of without fault or repayment(something he never felt with Lillith)

Once he was disrobed, Y/N guided him into the warm embrace of the bubbling waters, the scent of lavender and jasmine enveloping them both. With a soft sigh of contentment, Lucifer sank into the soothing depths, his muscles relaxing beneath the gentle caress of the water.

There, amidst the flickering candlelight, she began to test the water of the luxurious bubble bath with her finger, the scents filling the air with soothing lavender. And as he slipped into the steaming bath, surrounded by a frothy sea of bubbles, he felt the tension in his muscles melt away.

Y/N knelt beside the bath, a soft cloth in hand as she began to wash away the grime and tension that clung to his weary form. Her touch was firm, her hands moving with practiced care as she tended to him with unwavering devotion.

As she worked, Lucifer felt the knots of tension begin to unravel, his mind drifting into a state of blissful tranquility. In that moment, there was only the soothing warmth of the water, the gentle ministrations of Y/N, and the overwhelming sense of peace that washed over him like a cleansing tide. As Lucifer sank deeper into the soothing bubbles, he couldn't help but notice a playful glint in Y/N's eyes as she reached for something hidden behind her back.

"Darling," she said with a mischievous grin, "I have a surprise for you."

Intrigued, Lucifer raised an eyebrow as Y/N produced a bright yellow rubber ducky from behind her back, its cheery expression contrasting with the dark ambiance of the bath.

"A rubber ducky?" Lucifer chuckled, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "You never cease to amaze me, my dear."

Y/N giggled as she plopped the rubber ducky into the bathwater, its buoyant figure bobbing amidst the bubbles. "I thought it might lighten the mood," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Lucifer couldn't help but laugh as he reached out to retrieve the rubber ducky, holding it aloft with a sense of childlike wonder. "Well, I must say, it's a rather dashing addition to our bath time routine."

With a playful grin, Y/N leaned forward to gently boop the rubber ducky on the nose, causing it to squeak in protest. The sound echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, filling the room with a sense of whimsy.

As the evening wore on and the bathwater cooled, Lucifer and Y/N reluctantly emerged from the luxurious depths of their tub. Wrapped in plush towels, they made their way to the cozy confines of their living room, where a crackling fire danced merrily in the hearth.

With a contented sigh, Lucifer settled onto the plush couch, pulling Y/N into his arms as they nestled together beneath a soft blanket. The warmth of the fire enveloped them, casting a soft glow upon their entwined forms.

"Tonight was exactly what I needed," Lucifer murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Thank you, my love."

Y/N smiled sleepily, her eyes drifting closed as she snuggled closer to him. "Anytime, darling. I'm always here for you."

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runninriot · 4 months ago

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no reason to hide

written for @steddie-week day 1 | prompt: secret relationship

rated: t | wc: 4.5k | tags: Max POV, Max & Eddie friendship, Max & Steve Friendship, Steve and Eddie are keeping secrets, coming out, post Vecna, everybody lives | complete fic on ao3

The first time she notices something strange is going on between Eddie and Steve, is when Max wakes up in the middle of the night from one of those ghastly dreams that have been haunting her since the whole Vecna fiasco went down.

She does what she always does when she can’t fall back asleep - goes to sit on the steps outside of her home to listen to the familiar sounds of the trailer park, looking at the sky, the stars and the moon, reminding herself that she’s back in the real world. That the Upside Down and all its monsters are a memory of the past.

It’s been almost a year and things have finally gone back to how they were. Well, mostly.

Sure, those nights where the monsters come crawling back into her subconscious are draining sometimes, but after everything that happened to her, nightmares, a walking stick, and glasses are a small price to pay. She could’ve paid a much higher one, could’ve lost it all. She’s fine. And at least the nightmares are a burden they all share.

Her friends have them too, those restless nights. And even if that doesn’t make it better, the fact that they are in this together makes it easier, at least.

Max knows she can always count on them – her now-again-boyfriend Lucas and the stupid but lovable dorks Dustin and Mike. Even El and Will, who went back to California, are always just one phone call away.

She has Steve, who – while Nancy and Robin went off to college – didn’t leave.

He’s still here, still taking care of them in his annoyingly loving way, even though they don’t need him to be their protector anymore, technically.

She’d never say it out loud, would rather eat her own tongue than to admit it, but to know that he’s part of her life is kind of... comforting. Because he’s graduated from babysitter to friend long ago, has proven time and again that he’s a good guy with a big heart. Max likes him a lot, can understand why Dustin was always so drawn to him.

And then, there’s Eddie.

Before being caught in a war against evil and nearly walking into the light at the end of the tunnel together, she never really cared much for him at all. (And no, she did not have a very stupid, very tiny crush on him when she learned about him playing guitar in this awesome band. Anyone who suggests otherwise can talk it out with her fist, okay?!)

She had often wondered how much truth was behind all the rumours, the Satanic Freak allegations. Because while he obviously liked to cause trouble every now and then, he always seemed... nice. A little boisterous, maybe, but never violent or evil.

And then she got to know him when they were trying to prove his innocence while being caught in their final battle against evil, and realised how much they had in common.

How Eddie, like her, wears a mask to protect his vulnerable pieces inside. Carrying the burden of a broken home and too much pent-up anger on his shoulders.

Max sees a version of herself in Eddie, and seeing how far he’s come – even if he himself doesn’t think he has – is encouraging, in a way.

She never told anyone, but out of everyone, Eddie might have played the biggest part in her recovery.

When she opened her eyes for the first time after being in a coma, the first blurry face she saw wasn’t Lucas or Steve or even her own mother.

No. It was Eddie.

Half his body in bandages, leaning heavy on his crutches holding him upright where he was standing beside her hospital bed, smiling down at her, which looked painful because of the stitches on his left cheek, but it was warm and friendly and honest.

And in that moment, when the memories came back and the world came crushing down, Max was glad it was him that watched her fall apart. Because with Eddie, she didn’t feel the need to pretend that she was fine. He let her cry and wince in pain without commenting on it, just took her hand – no words of pity, no promises of false hopes, just a tight squeeze of her hand in silent support.

Their friendship evolved from there, got even stronger when they were both fighting their way through physical therapy, from frustrating setbacks to miraculous accomplishments.

He’s annoying sometimes, like a brother, but he’s the kind of friend that you love to fight with because you know they’ll never hold a grudge; Eddie's friendship is unconditional and Max cherishes that more than she'd ever tell him.

Eddie, like her, finds it hard to sleep sometimes. So, more times than not, when she goes to sit on the steps in the middle of the night, she finds him outside his own trailer – smoking in silence or listening to music with his headphones on.

They don’t usually talk, just share a few moments together in peace until their minds have calmed enough for them to get ready to conquer another day.

This is why Max doesn’t startle when she hears the familiar squeak of the Munson’s trailer door. Only when a car door gets slammed close, does she look up.

Weirdly enough, it isn’t Eddie who’s going for a ride. It isn’t his van that slowly turns and rolls out of the driveway.

It’s Steve’s car; there’s no doubt about it. She knows that car better than Steve likes to be reminded of.

What the hell is he doing at Eddie’s place at 2 in the morning?, Max wonders, worries that maybe something is wrong.

But moments later, the trailer door opens again and Eddie steps out, dressed in his pajama pants, lighting a cigarette like he always does. He seems calm, happy. Not at all like something bad has happened.

Until he notices her and his eyes widen in shock, mouth hanging open with the cigarette stuck to his bottom lip.

“Max! How- how long have you been out here?”

She doesn’t exactly know why she doesn’t tell the truth but something about the way Eddie looks at her tells Max, he might not want her to know about his nightly visitor.

“Just came out like, maybe a second before you did,” she lies, watching his shoulders drop as the tension in his body eases.

“Oh, uh, okay. Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk?”

“Nah, just needed some fresh air. You?”

“I- I’m good. Just, uh, just couldn’t sleep.”

They sit there for a while, both awkwardly looking anywhere but at each other, before Max can’t take it anymore, says her goodnight and goes back inside.

There is probably a good explanation for it all. Maybe Steve couldn’t sleep, too. Maybe he went to Eddie for some weed? (Don’t act so surprised. She might just be a teen but she’s not stupid, okay?)

Whatever it is, Max will never know because going by the way Eddie reacted when he saw her, she’s sure he doesn’t want to be questioned about it.

It’s fine. It’s none of her business anyway.

And Max forgets about it entirely until something strange happens again a few weeks later...

keep reading

#steddieweek2024 #steddie #steddie fic #max mayfield #eddie munson #steve harrington

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zafill · 3 months ago

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Demon slayer pt.2

DEMON SLAYER PT.2

WARNINGS!!: self-harm, fights, bad thoughts.

pt.1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The air was thick with the scent of pine and the lingering warmth of a setting sun. Five years had passed since Kagaya Ubuyashiki had taken me in, and in those years, I had changed. I was no longer the scared, broken child who had been dragged across the cold ground by a mother who wished she had never given birth to me. That girl was gone, buried beneath layers of strength and determination that I had forged with my own hands.

In the beginning, the other recruits had received guidance, training, and instruction from seasoned Demon Slayers. But not me. I had always been different, set apart by my past and the darkness that still clung to me. I had learned early on that if I wanted to survive, I would have to rely on myself. And so, I trained alone.

Every morning, before the sun had even risen, I would leave the camp and head deep into the forest. There, in the silence of the early hours, I taught myself the ways of the blade. My katana became my closest companion, its cold steel an extension of my will. I learned to move with precision, to strike with speed, and to endure pain with a stoicism that came naturally after years of suffering.

The forest became my teacher, the rustling leaves and the calls of distant birds my only company. I would practice for hours, my body moving through the forms I had observed the other trainees perform.

When I wasn’t practicing my swordsmanship, I was honing my physical strength—running, climbing, pushing my body to its absolute limits. I knew that I had to be stronger, faster, and more resilient than anyone else if I was going to make it as a Demon Slayer

One day, as the sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor, I was deep in my routine. I had just completed a particularly grueling series of strikes against a makeshift wooden dummy when I sensed a presence behind me. Startled, I whirled around, my katana raised defensively, only to find Kagaya Ubuyashiki standing a short distance away.

His appearance took me by surprise. His hair, a cascade of dark waves, framed a face that was both gentle and severe. His eyes, or rather, the one eye that was still unclouded, observed me with a mixture of curiosity and understanding. The other eye was obscured by a faint, purplish mass, a sign of the blindness that was slowly creeping across his vision. He was not yet fully blind, but the signs were there, a reminder of the burden he carried as the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps.

“Master Ubuyashiki,” I breathed, lowering my sword and bowing respectfully. I hadn’t expected him to come so far into the forest, much less during my training.

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that held both warmth and sadness. “You’ve grown much, (Y/N). Your dedication is evident in every movement you make.”

I felt a flush of pride at his words but quickly suppressed it, focusing instead on the humility I had learned to adopt. “Thank you, Master. I’ve been training hard.” Kagaya nodded, his expression shifting slightly, as if he was about to share something important. “Your progress has not gone unnoticed, and I am pleased to see how far you’ve come on your own.

But I have another reason for coming here today, (Y/N). We have a new member joining the Demon Slayer Corps, and I wanted you to be among the first to know.”

A new member? My curiosity piqued as I wondered who this person might be and why Kagaya had chosen to share this news with me personally.

“His name is Gyomei Himejima,” Kagaya continued, his voice filled with a quiet respect. “He is a man of great strength and even greater compassion. Though blind, his senses are extraordinarily sharp, and he has a deep connection with the world around him. He possesses an unmatched inner strength that I believe will be invaluable to our cause.”

I listened intently, intrigued by this new addition to the Corps. A blind man with such strength and presence—it was both surprising and inspiring. I wondered what kind of person Gyomei must be to earn Kagaya’s high praise.

But as Kagaya continued to speak, a knot of unease began to form in my chest. “Gyomei has faced many challenges in his life,” Kagaya went on, “but he has emerged from them with a heart full of kindness and a spirit unbreakable by the hardships he’s endured. I believe that the two of you could learn much from each other.”

His words were meant to reassure me, to make me feel a sense of camaraderie with this new member, but instead, they stirred something dark and unwelcome inside me—an emotion I hadn't expected to feel: jealousy.

Kagaya had always been a guiding light in my life, the closest thing I had to a father. He had taken me in when I was lost, nurtured my potential, and given me a purpose. I was the first person he had "adopted" into this strange, new family of Demon Slayers, and in many ways, I had come to think of him as mine alone. The idea of someone else stepping into that space, especially someone as remarkable as Gyomei, made me feel threatened.

I tried to suppress the bitterness rising in my throat, but it was difficult. Kagaya had always been kind and supportive, never showing favoritism, yet the thought of sharing his attention and approval with someone else made me irrationally hostile. I didn’t want to feel this way, but I couldn’t help it. It was as though this new member, despite having done nothing wrong, was somehow encroaching on the bond I had so carefully built with Kagaya.

"Master," I began hesitantly, trying to keep my voice steady, "are you sure... are you sure we need someone like him? I mean, with his blindness and everything, won’t he be at a disadvantage?"

Kagaya’s expression softened, as if he could see right through my facade, recognizing the fear and insecurity I was trying so hard to hide. “(Y/N),” he said gently, “Gyomei’s blindness is not a weakness. If anything, it has made him stronger, more attuned to the world in ways we might never understand. But I can see that you’re worried.”

As Kagaya continued speaking, my irritation grew, feeding on the sense of encroachment that Gyomei's arrival represented. The calm demeanor I had worked so hard to cultivate began to fray, replaced by a surge of anger and resentment I couldn't quite control. My hands clenched into fists, and I struggled to keep my voice steady.

“Master,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended, “I appreciate your confidence in this Gyomei Himejima, but I don't see why we need to bring in someone new right now. We’ve been managing fine on our own, haven’t we?”

Kagaya’s smile faltered slightly, his gentle gaze assessing me with a mixture of concern and sadness. “(Y/N), it is not just about our current capabilities. Gyomei possesses unique qualities that will be invaluable to our mission. His strength is not diminished by his blindness; rather, it has been shaped by it.”

I could feel my pulse quickening, the anger bubbling up despite my efforts to suppress it. “But why does he have to come here now? Why can't we just stick to what we know? Adding someone new... it’s disruptive. I’ve worked so hard to prove myself here, and now it feels like it’s all being undermined.”

Kagaya’s eyes softened with understanding, but his expression remained steady. “(Y/N), it’s natural to feel apprehensive about change, especially when it feels like it threatens what you’ve worked so hard to build. But remember, the strength of the Corps comes from our unity, from our ability to accept and support each other. Gyomei is not here to diminish your place but to enhance our collective strength.”

My jaw tightened, and I struggled to maintain control over my emotions. “I just— I don’t want to feel like I’m being replaced or overlooked. I’ve worked so hard for this, and it feels like now I have to compete with someone who is being praised for qualities I don’t understand.” Kagaya's gaze grew more intense, though his voice remained calm and reassuring. “(Y/N), you are a part of the Ubuyashiki family. You are like a daughter to me. Your place here is not in jeopardy. No one can replace you or diminish the importance of what you’ve accomplished. You are needed, just as much as ever.”

Despite his heartfelt words, I felt a storm of frustration brewing inside me. The notion of being told I was needed, while comforting, seemed insufficient in the face of my growing insecurity. I felt as though Kagaya’s assurances could not bridge the gap between what I had come to believe and the reality he was presenting.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I said, my voice thick with frustration. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but it’s hard to just accept that everything will stay the same. It feels like everything I’ve worked for is being overshadowed by someone who hasn’t even proven himself yet.”

Kagaya’s expression did not waver. He stepped closer, his voice carrying a gentle firmness. “(Y/N), I know this is difficult. Change often is. But your value is not determined by how you compare to others. It is inherent in who you are and what you’ve done. You have a unique place in this family, and no one, not even Gyomei, can take that away from you.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Years had passed, and with each new addition to the Demon Slayer Corps, my sense of displacement and hostility grew. The family I once thought was my own had expanded beyond recognition, and with every new face, I felt a little more like an outsider in the world I had fought so hard to be a part of.

When Gyomei Himejima joined, his presence had been intimidating but not unwelcome. He was a reminder of the change Kagaya had spoken of, the new dynamic I had to adapt to. I had grudgingly accepted him, though it took time for me to see his value. The same could not be said for every new member that followed.

Tengen Uzui, with his flamboyant demeanor and larger-than-life personality, seemed to clash with everything I valued. His bravado grated on me, and I struggled to understand his place in our ranks. His presence felt like an intrusion into a space that was already crowded with my insecurities.

Sanemi Shinazugawa arrived with a fierce intensity that mirrored my own frustrations. His abrasive nature and fierce attitude seemed to resonate with my own feelings of anger and resentment. It was as if his presence was a reflection of my own hostility, magnified.

Kyojuro Rengoku brought a fiery passion that was undeniably inspiring but also made me feel inadequate. His unwavering optimism and dedication seemed to cast a shadow on my own struggles. I felt a growing sense of competition, a fear that I would never measure up to his bright, burning spirit.

Giyu Tomioka, stoic and reserved, was a calming presence but also a constant reminder of the expectations I struggled to meet. His quiet strength was both reassuring and intimidating, a contrast to my own volatile emotions.

Mitsuri Kanroji arrived with a warmth and kindness that was difficult to reconcile with my own growing bitterness. Her gentle demeanor and unyielding support seemed to highlight my own struggles to connect with the others.

Obanai Iguro’s strict discipline and unwavering commitment to the Corps served as a constant reminder of the standards I felt I was failing to meet. His dedication, though admirable, only deepened my own insecurities.

Muichiro Tokito, with his enigmatic and detached nature, was a mystery I struggled to understand. His aloofness felt like a barrier to the camaraderie I longed for, and his presence seemed to accentuate my own sense of alienation.

Despite my efforts to push past my feelings of resentment, I found it increasingly difficult to accept the growing number of members. The constant influx of new faces only heightened my sense of isolation, making it harder for me to find my place within the expanding Corps.

Tengen Uzui was hard to ignore—everything about him was larger than life. From the flamboyant way he dressed to the booming voice that seemed to command attention wherever he went. He was always at the center of everything, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. For someone like me, who had spent so much time in quiet solitude, his presence was overwhelming.

One afternoon, as I was practicing alone in a secluded part of the forest, I heard the unmistakable sound of his voice cutting through the air. Even before he came into view, I could feel the vibrations of his footsteps, heavy and deliberate. My sensitive ears twitched in irritation.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, his tone bright and enthusiastic as he approached. "Why are you always hiding away in the shadows? Come join us, we’re all family, you know!"

I grimaced, trying to focus on the movements of my sword rather than the intrusive sound of his voice. Tengen wasn’t someone you could easily ignore, though. He strolled right up to me, his presence impossible to overlook.

“I’m not hiding,” I replied curtly, keeping my eyes on the blade in my hands. “I’m training.”

He chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that made my ears ring. “Training alone is fine and all, but it’s no fun if you never get to show off what you’ve learned. You should come spar with us sometime—let’s see what you’ve got.”

His words were friendly, even encouraging, but to me, they felt like a challenge. The thought of sparring with someone like Tengen, with all his bravado and flair, made my stomach twist. It wasn’t that I feared losing; it was the idea of being under his scrutiny, of having to endure his overbearing energy.

“I prefer to train by myself,” I said, trying to keep my tone polite but firm.

Tengen tilted his head, his expression curious. “You know, you’re way too serious for your own good. Lighten up a little! We’re all here to support each other, not compete. What’s the point of being so isolated?” I narrowed my eyes at Tengen’s remark, a spark of annoyance flaring up. His relentless optimism and insistence on camaraderie grated on my nerves. “Maybe some of us don’t need to be surrounded by people to feel validated,” I shot back, my voice carrying a sharp edge. “Not everyone thrives on being the center of attention.”

Tengen raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by my snarky tone. But instead of backing off, he smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, is that what this is about? You’re just too cool for the rest of us, huh? Or maybe you’re just worried you won’t measure up?” He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be part of the Ubuyashiki family, you don’t really look the part.”

That was the last straw.

The blood rushed to my face, and before I could stop myself, I exploded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I shouted, my voice shaking with fury. “You think because I don’t look like them, I don’t belong? I’ve fought for my place here every single day! I’ve bled for it! And you—” I jabbed a finger toward his chest, “you have no idea what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong anywhere! You with your perfect family, your perfect everything!”

Tengen’s playful expression faltered as he realized he’d struck a nerve, but I wasn’t done.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be taken in out of pity, to constantly feel like you have to prove you’re worth the space you take up! So don’t you dare stand there and question my place in this family just because I don’t fit your picture of what it should look like!” My voice rose with each word, the frustration and pain I had kept buried for so long finally erupting in a torrent of emotion. "You think it's easy, don't you? Being surrounded by people who were born into this, who have families and histories that tie them to this cause? You think I haven't noticed how everyone looks at me, how they wonder why Kagaya chose someone like me?"

I was dimly aware of others gathering around, drawn by the commotion. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw familiar faces—Gyomei, Sanemi, Mitsuri, and the others—watching with various degrees of surprise and concern. But I couldn’t stop now, not when all the hurt and anger I had bottled up for so long was finally spilling out.

“And you, Tengen,” I continued, my voice cracking as I fought to keep the tears at bay, “you with your flashy demeanor and your perfect life, you stand there and judge me? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be constantly reminded that you don’t belong? To know that every time you walk into a room, people are wondering why you’re even here?”

Tengen, who had been so confident and carefree just moments before, looked stunned. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The others looked just as shocked, their eyes wide as they listened to me unleash years of pent-up frustration and insecurity.

“I’ve fought tooth and nail to be where I am,” I went on, my voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve trained alone, bled alone, cried alone, all because I didn’t want to be a burden. I’ve seen how the rest of you bond, how you look out for each other, and I’ve never once felt like I was truly part of that. And now—now you’re telling me I don’t even look like I belong?”

The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I stared at Tengen, daring him to say something, anything. The weight of everyone’s eyes on me only made the tension more unbearable, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away.

Finally, Tengen took a step back, his face serious and his voice low. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just… I was just trying to understand.”

But I wasn’t done. The presence of the other Hashira, the ones who had unknowingly made me feel like an outsider, only fueled the fire inside me. “Understand?” I scoffed bitterly. “You can’t understand. None of you can. You all have your places, your roles, your families. But me? I’m just the stray Kagaya took in. The one who doesn’t fit, no matter how hard I try.” My voice trembled as I continued, the words tumbling out like a dam that had finally burst. “You think you know pain? You think you understand what it’s like to be unwanted?” I could feel the tears welling up, but I refused to let them fall. I needed them to hear this, to understand why I could never just fit in like the rest of them.

“My father… my so-called father, wasn’t even really mine,” I spat, the bitterness seeping into my tone. “He was a drunk who hated the sight of me because I wasn’t his. My mother—she had me with some man she hooked up with, and when my father found out, he made my life a living hell. He couldn’t stand to look at me, to touch me. And when I tried to reach out, to be a part of their lives, do you know what they did?”

I held up my hands, the scars still faintly visible from where the boiling water had seared my skin so many years ago. “They poured boiling water over my hands. They told me I was filthy, disgusting, that I didn’t deserve to touch them. They wanted to destroy me, to break me, and they almost did. But I survived. I survived all of it, and for what?”

The others were silent, their expressions a mix of shock and horror as they listened to the ugly truth of my past. But I couldn’t stop now, not when everything I had buried for so long was finally coming to the surface.

“My real father didn’t want me either,” I continued, my voice cracking. “I found him once, and he looked at me like I was nothing. Like I was a mistake he wished he could erase. And my mother, she was no better. She sold me to Kagaya for 5000 yen, like I was just some piece of trash she needed to get rid of.”

My chest heaved with the effort of holding back my sobs, but I forced myself to keep going. “So don’t stand there and tell me I belong here, or that you understand. You don’t know what it’s like to be cast aside by everyone who was supposed to love you, to have to fight every day just to prove you’re worth something. Kagaya… he saved me, but even now, I feel like I’m just that unwanted child he took in out of pity.”

I finally let the tears fall, unable to hold them back any longer. “I’ve been fighting my whole life, not just against demons, but against this feeling that I’ll never be enough. That no matter what I do, I’ll always be the girl who wasn’t wanted, who didn’t belong.”

The weight of my confession hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. The Hashira stood there, their faces pale with the realization of just how deep my wounds ran. They had seen me as strong, maybe even intimidating, but now they saw the broken pieces beneath the surface.

“Maybe… maybe I don’t belong here,” I whispered, the words barely audible as I finally let the despair take hold. “Maybe I never did.”

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The warm glow of lanterns filled the dining hall of the Ubuyashiki estate, casting a soft light on the low table where Kagaya and Amane Ubuyashiki sat, waiting for the evening meal to be served. The gentle hum of conversation from their children filled the room, but there was an undercurrent of unease that neither Kagaya nor Amane could ignore.

Kagaya’s usually serene expression was tinged with concern as he glanced at the empty space at the table. “(Y/N) hasn’t arrived yet,” he murmured, his voice gentle but laced with worry. “She’s never this late.”

Amane nodded, her eyes reflecting the same concern. “It’s unusual for her to miss dinner. She’s always been so diligent about joining us, no matter how intense her training.”

Their children, who had been quietly conversing among themselves, began to notice the absence of their elder sister. One of the younger girls, a delicate child with soft, dark hair, looked up at her parents with wide, innocent eyes. “Where’s big sister?” she asked, her voice small and worried. “Is she okay?”

Kagaya reached out to gently pat his daughter’s head, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she’s fine, my dear. Perhaps she’s still out training and lost track of time.”

But even as he spoke the words, a sense of unease settled over him. (Y/N) had always been a pillar of strength within their family, someone who, despite her struggles, had always made an effort to be there for her younger siblings. Her absence now felt like a dark cloud over what was usually a peaceful evening.

Amane rose from her seat, smoothing her kimono as she did. “I’ll go check on her,” she said softly Amane was halfway to the door when Mitsuri Kanroji burst into the dining hall, her usually serene expression now marked by a flurry of worry and urgency. “I’m so sorry for interrupting,” she began breathlessly, her cheeks flushed from running. “But something’s happening, and I thought you should know right away.”

Kagaya and Amane exchanged a glance, their concern deepening. “What is it, Mitsuri?” Kagaya asked, his voice steady but laced with apprehension.

Mitsuri’s eyes were wide with alarm. “(Y/N) and Tengen… they’re fighting. It’s not just a verbal argument. It’s a full-on hand-to-hand fight. They’re outside, and it looks like it’s getting out of control.”

The room fell silent as Kagaya’s face hardened with determination. He stood abruptly, the calm demeanor he usually projected replaced by a stern urgency. “Amane, stay with the children,” he instructed. “I’ll handle this.”

Amane nodded, her face pale but resolute. “Please, be careful.”

Kagaya and Mitsuri hurried outside, the cool evening air hitting their faces as they made their way toward the training grounds. The sounds of grunts and the clash of limbs grew louder, guiding them to the scene of the confrontation. As Kagaya and Mitsuri approached the training grounds, the sounds of the fight grew louder, their urgency pushing them faster. They rounded a corner to find (Y/N) and Tengen locked in a fierce struggle, their movements a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and defensive maneuvers.

Tengen was clearly showing signs of exhaustion, his breathing ragged and his stance unsteady. His speed, which had been his advantage, was faltering under the relentless assault from (Y/N). Despite his agility, he was struggling to keep up with the sheer intensity of (Y/N)’s assault.

(Y/N) was equally battered, her face streaked with sweat and dirt, her breathing heavy but determined. Her eyes were focused, each strike driven by a mix of anger and frustration. Her movements were fierce and precise, each punch and kick a testament to her inner turmoil.

Kagaya stepped forward, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Enough!” His tone was commanding, carrying the weight of authority that both combatants could not ignore.

For a moment, both (Y/N) and Tengen paused, their bodies freezing mid-action as they turned toward Kagaya. The intensity of their fight still lingered in the air, but the immediate clash of fists and feet ceased.

Kagaya’s eyes softened with a blend of concern and disappointment as he took in the sight before him. “This is not the way to resolve your conflicts,” he said, his voice steady but heavy with emotion. “We are a family, and families support one another, even in times of disagreement.”

Tengen, breathing heavily and visibly wounded, looked down, his face flushed with both anger and regret. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to push her so far.”

(Y/N) stood there, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain control of her emotions. Her anger had dissipated, leaving behind a raw vulnerability that was difficult to hide. She looked at Kagaya, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. As Kagaya called out to (Y/N), trying to bridge the gap that had formed, she ignored him, her steps quick and purposeful. The weight of the confrontation, combined with the emotional strain she had been carrying, propelled her forward with an urgency that left no room for pause.

Her room was her sanctuary, a place where she could hide from the eyes of others and the expectations placed upon her. She rushed through the hallway, her heart pounding in her chest, and threw open the door with a force that made it slam against the wall.

Inside, she collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her hands as the tears she had fought so hard to contain finally spilled forth. The raw vulnerability that had been exposed during the fight now gave way to an overwhelming sense of despair. She had always prided herself on her strength, but in that moment, she felt utterly defeated.

As the tears streamed down (Y/N)’s face, the weight of her own anguish became unbearable. Her room, once a refuge, now felt like a prison, enclosing her in her darkest thoughts. She buried her face in her hands, the raw emotion making her shoulders shake with each sob.

In her desperation, (Y/N) reached for a pot she kept hidden in the corner of her room. It was a vessel she had used in the past to punish herself—a cruel reminder of the torment she had endured. She filled it with water from the small kettle she kept on a low flame and watched as it began to heat. The steam rising from it seemed almost to mock her, a cruel echo of the suffering she had faced.

The minutes ticked by painfully slow, each one amplifying her internal struggle. Finally, she lifted the pot, her hands trembling with both anger and fear. The boiling water sloshed ominously, a dark promise of the pain she was about to inflict upon herself.

She hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The old scars of her past—her mother’s harsh punishment, her father’s neglect—flared up in her mind. The boiling water was more than just a tool of self-harm; it was a symbol of everything she wished to escape but felt unable to.

In a moment of bleak determination, (Y/N) held the pot over her hands. The thought of finally ridding herself of the hands that had once been subjected to such cruelty was almost seductive. Yet, a part of her clung to the hope that there might still be a way out of the darkness that had consumed her. Her grip tightened on the pot, the steam curling around her hands and face as she wrestled with the decision. The weight of her past pressed down on her with unbearable force, and in her mind, the boiling water symbolized a final escape from the relentless torment of her memories.

With a shuddering breath, (Y/N) tilted the pot, and the searing hot water cascaded over her hands. The immediate pain was intense, a white-hot agony that sent sharp cries escaping her lips. The sensation of the scalding water was like a cruel echo of the suffering she had felt throughout her life.

As the water flowed, the agony became a paradoxical release—a physical manifestation of the emotional pain she had struggled to articulate. The searing heat burned not just her flesh but also her heart, giving a fleeting, tangible form to the suffering she had been grappling with in silence.

The burning sensation intensified, and (Y/N) gasped, her eyes widening in shock and torment. She dropped the pot, the remaining water splashing onto the floor, leaving her hands red and blistered. The pain was blinding, almost overwhelming, but in its brutal clarity, it forced her to confront the depth of her self-destructive desperation.

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pt.3? anyone??

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