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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.” But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.” And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of illness, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 11k words

NOTE: this was always going to be long, because it's heartbreaking. and heartbreaking ones have to be something that has to be expressed well. i listened to this in a audio software like its a podcast and i actually liked it. the other woman by nina simone was the constant in the writing. also, this is the aftermath of ashes of love, which is a series i did about heian sukuna. anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

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YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE THIS UNLUCKY. The moment you were born, there would be a bleak fate for you to live. You were an accidental child, and multiple times, your own mother had nearly miscarried. Perhaps even as a fetus, you had always known this. How cursed you were. Even if you had done nothing.

When your mother brushed your hair as a child, she would tell you of how you were born. She said that when you breathed the air for the first time, you were melancholic in the silence to the world. Somehow knew that you were built for this miserable world. And every day since that day, you knew. You were meant to live life without true joyous jubilation.

It did not help that the day you were born, there was a lone dark star in the morning sky, one which had been considered a bad omen. And with that, the whispers of fate echoing long before you had even had consciousness to know. Your village nestled in the shadowed valleys of Hida province, a place of whispered dread and ancient pacts. And for the longest of times, the once prosperous Hida province was in turmoil.

And so, in those days, if there was anyone who controlled the ruins of Hida, it was that god-like curse user Ryomen Sukuna. His name alone was a talisman against the unknown horrors that lurked beyond the mountains, a deity whose power and wrath commanded fear and reverence in equal measure. And all either quivered at the sight of him or drew fanatic fervor.

The Ryomen clan, his kin at one point, were at war—embroiled in brutal conflicts with neighboring clans for so long. And this had been going on before you were even born. The blood had soaked the earth for so long that the soil seemed to thirst for it. And the people were exhausted.

The clan struggled to maintain control over Hida for a long time now, their influence fraying like an old tapestry torn at the seams. And with that, a power vacuum had long been in existence. The chaos of the era was a tide that threatened to drown them all, and Ryomen Sukuna's protection became the last fragile hope for those who called this land their home.

Your parents spoke in hushed voices of the offerings, the sacrifices made by the villagers to appease their god, the man who can save them, this man to fear and worship, Ryomen Sukuna. To ensure his protection, they said. For years, the sacrifices continued, the chosen ones becoming mere footnotes in a history written in blood and fear.

It came upon you rather quickly when you were young and it struck you—that the villagers saw you not as one of their own, but as a piece on a board, a pawn destined for slaughter. A sacrifice to their god. You would be among the countless, one more life to be cast into the jaws of the demon god they all feared.

The day of your sacrifice came as the sky was painted with hues of blood and gold, a cruel irony that did not escape you. The air was heavy with incense and prayer, but there was no comfort in their muttered words, no solace in the chants that pleaded for Sukuna's mercy. They adorned you in ceremonial robes, marked with symbols and sigils, your skin painted with the sacred ink that was supposed to cleanse your soul before the offering.

You were led through the village, a procession of death that seemed to stretch on forever. The eyes that watched you pass were filled with a mixture of pity and relief—relief that it was not them, not their child, not their blood that would be spilled today. Mothers held their children close, men bowed their heads, and the elders chanted in a low, continuous hum that sent shivers down your spine.

At the shrine, they bound you to the altar, thick ropes biting into your skin as you stared at the sky, searching for a sign, a miracle that never came. The high priest began his incantation, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. You could feel the cold seep into your bones, the air around you thickening as if the very world held its breath.

And then, you felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy presence that pressed against your chest like a vice. You had never seen him before, but you knew it was Sukuna. The villagers gasped, a collective intake of breath as his form materialized from the shadows, a figure cloaked in malice and power.

His eyes, crimson and unforgiving, swept over you like a cold blade. You felt your heart hammer against your ribcage, fear clawing at your throat. You were nothing to him, just another offering, another desperate plea from a village clinging to survival.

Ryomen Sukuna smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a tremor through the crowd. He stepped forward, each movement a ripple in the air, as if reality itself bent to his will. You met his gaze, defiant in your fear, knowing that you were one of many. Countless lives had been given to him, countless souls lost to his hunger.

And now, it was your turn.

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YOU HAD NEVER EXPECTED TO MEET THE MAN IN THE FLESH. But before you stood this man, this god, with dark crimson eyes. Taller than any tree, intimidating than any curse. Frightening than hell itself. You could remember when you were younger. The whispers reached you before you even stepped foot in the shrine, everyone has. Tales of Ryomen Sukuna had traveled through the villages like the wind, carrying with them rumors that were both terrifying and tragic.

You had always known that the man was delighted with the worship of the human people. But they said he had taken no other concubines, that he showed no interest in any woman who dared come near him.

And if he did, they were more likely to be servants than anything close to a concubine. And some were not so lucky. Some spoke in hushed tones, their voices trembling with fear, that he was a monster of unspeakable debauchery, one who had killed the women for even daring to breathe in his presence.

But the truth, as you had come to understand it, was far more tragic. At least from how you see it. The people of Hida knew—oh, they believed—the story was told long ago. There was someone who had been so loved long ago and most of all, by Sukuna.

Ryomen Hiromi, the one who had captured Sukuna's heart, the one he had loved beyond reason. There was another Sukuna a long time ago, many were aware. But there was nothing proven.

If anything, the children of Hiromi reject any notion of such a relationship. But the tale was woven into the very fabric of tales told, whispered among the elders late at night and shared in riddles among the children who barely understood the weight of what they spoke.

Hiromi, they said, had been his sun, his moon, his stars. A woman of beauty and strength, whose laughter could calm the wildest storms and whose voice was like the sweetest song. She had been the only one to ever touch his heart, to see the man beneath the demon god. But she was gone now, lost to time and tragedy, leaving Ryomen Sukuna to languish in his grief.

No one dared speak her name aloud, not when Sukuna’s rage could split the earth itself. People have seen it. It was said he mourned her loss every day, that his fury was born from the emptiness she left behind. And that was why he would not tolerate any other woman. No one was going to be like her. None would match her wit, her beauty. Why should the king of curses settle for less when he had the world?

As you lay on the cold altar, the ropes cutting into your skin, your thoughts were consumed by the stories. What kind of man—no, what kind of creature—was Sukuna? You wonder about this paradox of a man, this creature like god.

Did he truly mourn, or was that just another tale spun by terrified villagers to make him seem more human? What was he, actually? You had a million questions, and you know they will never truly be answered.

A gust of wind stirred the trees around you, the leaves rustling like whispered secrets. You heard the shuffle of feet, felt the eyes of the villagers upon you, their fear palpable. Then, you heard his voice. You could feel it all, that powerful cursed energy, coming from one direction. For a moment, you had no words. Only uncertainty.

"Why do they send another?" Sukuna's voice was like a low growl, rumbling through the air with the force of a storm. "Do you think I am so easily appeased, you fools?"

You dared to lift your head, the ropes pulling at your skin as you met his crimson gaze. He was tall, imposing, and every bit as terrifying as the stories had painted him. But there was something else there—something in his eyes that spoke of deep, simmering pain.

"Do you truly want to know why they sent me?" you found yourself saying, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you down then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Speak, then, girl." he said. "Tell me why I should not turn you to dust where you lie."

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "They send me because they fear you, because they believe you will protect them if they give you what you want. But… no one knows what you truly want, do they? No one speaks of her. Of Hiromi."

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. The air grew colder, a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

"Hiromi is dead." he said, his voice quiet but filled with an edge that could cut through steel. "And no one speaks her name. It is what I command.”

"But you still mourn her…." you continued, unable to stop yourself. "Do you not, my lord?”

His dark gaze bore into you, the weight of it almost unbearable. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched on like an eternity. Then, slowly, he laughed—a sound that was bitter and hollow.

"You dare ask?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "What do you know of it all, little one? What do you know about such a life lived?"

You felt a tremor run through you, but you did not look away. "I know enough, my lord." you replied softly. "I know enough to see that your anger is not born of hatred, but of grief."

Sukuna's cruel smile quickly faded, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly swallowed by the darkness. He hated how you said it, you know it too well. But there was no other choice. You were here for a purpose and you must fulfill it. You must.

"You are bold, little one." he murmured. "Bold….for someone so close to death."

"Perhaps, my lord." you whispered back to him. "But if I am to die, I would rather die knowing who you truly are, rather than the monster they say you are."

He stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power that thrummed through him like a thunder strike.

"Then you are a fool, little one." he said quietly. "For believing that I am anything more than a monster."

But there was something in his voice, something that made you wonder if perhaps… he wished you were right.

For the meantime, you were lucky to have your life, despite speaking so boldly, despite saying her name aloud—the name that everyone else dared not utter. Sukuna’s silence stretched on, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours, unreadable, cold yet burning with something darker beneath the surface. He could have ended you with a flick of his wrist, reduced you to ashes for your insolence. And yet, he did not.

He leaned closer, the edges of his form blurring into the shadows that seemed to ripple around him like stabbing waves in the ocean. His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat a drum that signaled your fragile hold on life.

“Perhaps you are simply foolish. Many have died for far less than what you dared to speak.” Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Huh, you speak brashly.”

The villagers around you seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his judgment. They looked at you with a mixture of horror and awe, unable to believe you were still alive after uttering the forbidden name. You, a mere sacrifice, a lamb thrown to the wolf, had survived what so many others had not.

“Why do you think I will let you live?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone curious, but with a dangerous edge. “Do you think I find you interesting? Amusing? Or perhaps I see something of her in you, something worth sparing?”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation settling in. You had survived speaking out of turn, but you were still bound to this altar, still at the mercy of a being who could destroy you on a whim. Yet, something in his words gave you pause, a flicker of something unspoken that lingered just beneath his surface.

“I do not presume to know your reasons, my lord.” you replied carefully, choosing each word like a step on thin ice. “But if you see something of her in me… then perhaps I am not so different from you after all.”

Sukuna’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Not so different?” He laughed, a sound that was both mirthful and bitter, filled with a deep, aching emptiness. “You compare yourself to me? To Ryomen Sukuna? You are a child, a mere mortal who knows nothing of gods or demons, of love that scorches the soul and burns the world to ash.”

“And yet…..” you dared to continue, feeling the tightness in your chest. “If my lord felt nothing, you wouldn’t care enough to be angry… or to remember.”

He stiffened, and for a moment, his expression faltered. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, his aura flickering like a candle flame caught in a strong wind. You sensed that you were dancing on a razor’s edge, but you could not stop now. There was something here, something raw and real beneath the monstrous exterior.

“Enough.” Sukuna hissed, his voice a sharp command. The air grew colder, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “You dare much, human. Too much.”

You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, the moment when his patience would finally snap. But instead, Sukuna’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

“Perhaps I will spare you.” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “If only to see how long that fire burns before it is extinguished. Or perhaps to see if you will end up like the rest—broken, hollow, pleading for mercy where there is none.”

He turned away from you then, his back a wall of power and darkness, his form towering against the dim light of the shrine. The villagers started, stunned, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You will reside in my temple.” Sukuna commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will remain there, under my watch. Let them see what comes of those who speak of things best left forgotten.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and shock. They did not understand why he had spared you, why you, of all people, were allowed to live. Perhaps they thought you were cursed, or perhaps they thought Sukuna had some darker plan in mind. But you knew better. You knew that, in some small way, you had touched on a wound that had never healed, a scar buried deep beneath his monstrous exterior.

And as Sukuna vanished into the shadows, you realized that your fate was no longer in the hands of the villagers, or even in the hands of the gods they prayed to. No, your fate was now bound to his—a god who mourned like a man, a monster who remembered what it was to love.

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IN A WAY, IT IS NOT SO BAD, BEING HIS CONCUBINE. You spent your days in isolation, your life confined within the walls of Sukuna's palace. You were nothing more than a servant, though they called you a concubine. The title meant little, for you were given no special privileges, no adornments, no tokens of affection.

But it was a life. Your life. And it lived in some comfort, more than what is experienced by the rest of Hida province. You had multiple meals a day, you had rooms to yourself and even servants that address every bit of your needs.

Still, your world was small, your days filled with the quiet tending of the gardens, watching the shifting sky as the hours bled into one another. The flowers you nurtured became your only friends, their petals a fragile comfort against the cold indifference that surrounded you.

Perhaps the peace came from the fact that you did not see Sukuna often, and when you did, his gaze never lingered on you for long. He had no interest, no affection, no fondness to spare. You were simply there, like a shadow in the corner of his realm.

A figure lost amidst the vast emptiness of his domain. And perhaps that was for the best. It was better than being forced into Sukuna’s bed. You think that all women in the harem think that it was better that way.

But slowly, ever so slowly, something changed. His dark scarlet eyes began to linger, just a fraction longer than before. You felt the weight of his gaze like a chill running down your spine.

The other servants noticed it too, their whispers growing louder, bolder. You finally caught his attention. But it wasn’t because he had come to care for you, to see you as anything more than the nothing you were.

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

You were a spitting image of Ryomen Hiromi, the woman who haunted his every step, the ghost who lived in the shadows of his mind. At least that’s what the people say. But you did not want to believe them. Yet, looking at the murals at the glass gardens, the resemblance was uncanny.

It was obvious somehow. It was similar, everything. Your eyes, your hair, the curve of your smile. Every feature, every gesture seemed to remind him of her. And though you knew you could never be her, you had become a cruel echo, a reflection of something he had long lost.

And soon enough, the people talked. Of course, they did. They always talked. You tried to shut them out, but the more they whispered, the more people listened. And the more they listened, the more people spoke.

“She reminds him of Hiromi, I am certain!” they whispered. “She is nothing but a shadow, a poor replacement for the one he truly loved. She lives in her image, as if she could ever hope to fill her place.”

You became the other woman, even when you didn’t want to be. No, not even that. You were a pale imitation, a mockery of a woman who had captured the heart of the king of curses. Every glance Ryomen Sukuna spared you was not a look of admiration or desire—it was the gaze of a man staring into the past, into a memory that was forever out of reach.

And so, you lived your life as another woman. No, the other woman. To a dead woman. To a love that had died long ago, but never truly left.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the silence was so thick it pressed against your skin like a heavy shroud, you would wonder about her. About Ryomen Hiromi. Who was she, really? What had she meant to him, this fearsome god, this creature of darkness who now watched you as if searching for something he had lost in her eyes, now reflected in yours.

He never spoke of her. He does not want to. He does not dare to. Not to you, not to anyone. Some servants have been here longer than you and they have seen people killed over even a mumble of a prayer for the lady. And so you don’t ask.

Not even when there were times he would come closer, when his dark eyes lingered on your face, searching, always searching. Yet he will never truly find it. He knew this, as much as you did. But it was as if he was trying to see her again, trying to find her in your skin, in your voice, in the way you moved through the gardens like she once had, perhaps. It was hope, a foolish hope. And yet you cannot escape this foolish hope.

The weight of her memory suffocated you. You were not allowed to be yourself, to have your own name, your own identity. You were always, always compared to her, measured against a ghost that you could never be, never touch. And Sukuna, with his cold gaze and his empty eyes, reminded you of it every day.

"You’re not her, little one." he said once, his voice low, more to himself than to you, as if testing a truth he could not fully accept. “You’ll never be her.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving you with the bitter taste of something unnameable, something that tasted like defeat, or perhaps longing, or perhaps both. You had never wished to be her, to be anyone but yourself. But here, in his domain, under his shadow, you were not allowed that freedom.

You were trapped, forever bound to a life that was not your own, in the shadow of a dead woman who would never release you, and a man who could never let her go.

Days bled into nights, a blur of routine and solitude, and you began to feel like a ghost yourself, haunting the corners of Sukuna's palace, where life seemed to move around you but never through you. The servants kept their distance, wary of your resemblance, as if fearing you might be some ill omen, cursed to echo the tragedy of the past.

And Sukuna… he watched you, always watching, his eyes a deep crimson that saw too much and yet revealed nothing. He was like a storm contained within the fragile walls of the palace, his presence a force of nature that you could neither escape nor fully comprehend. His mood was mercurial; one day, he would barely acknowledge you, and the next, his gaze would linger on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Do you enjoy the garden?” he asked one afternoon, his tone deceptively casual, as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.

You glanced up, surprised that he had addressed you at all. He rarely spoke directly to you, even when his eyes seemed to follow your every movement. “I do,” you replied, careful, measured. “It is quiet there. Peaceful.”

“Quiet…peaceful.” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, she liked the quiet too. Always wandering among the flowers. Trees too. She’d like that then.”

You stiffened at the mention of her, the ghost you lived with every day, who lingered in every corner of this place. “I am not her, my lord.” you said, a tremor in your voice. You had repeated these words to yourself countless times, but they sounded fragile, almost insignificant when spoken aloud.

Sukuna's expression did not change. If anything, his gaze grew sharper, like a blade pressed against your skin. “No, little one.” he agreed softly, almost mockingly, “You are not her. But you will do… for now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let him see the fear that coiled within you, like a snake waiting to strike. “Why do you keep me here?” you dared to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why do you watch me as if you expect me to become someone else?”

He laughed then, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You misunderstand, little one. I do not expect you to become her. I know you never can. But you… remind me of her. And that is enough… for now.”

The way he said it, the way his eyes darkened with something unreadable, made your blood run cold. You were nothing more than a stand-in, a living, breathing reminder of something he had lost. A cruel joke played by fate, a shadow dancing in the place of the one who truly mattered. To be kept alive, your village kept alive — because you look like a ghost.

“I am not a replacement, my lord.” you insisted, your voice firmer this time, surprising even yourself with the strength behind it. “I hope my lord knows that I will not live my life as a mere echo.”

His smile faded, his expression turning serious. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, leaning in closer, his face so near to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You are here because I allow it. You exist at my whim, not because of who you are, but because of who you resemble. Do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”

The reality of his words hit you like a blow, the finality of it sinking deep into your bones. You were nothing to him, nothing but a passing fancy, a painful reminder of a past he could not reclaim.

“I am not her, my lord.” you repeated, your voice shaking with defiance, with a spark of something that refused to be extinguished. “And I will not be her for you. You must understand.”

For a moment, something flickered in Sukuna's eyes, something almost like surprise, perhaps even respect. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he always wore.

“Brave words, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “But words mean little here, in my domain. You will learn that soon enough.”

He turned away from you then, leaving you standing alone in the empty hall, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides. The silence closed in around you, heavy and oppressive, and you knew that nothing had changed. You were still trapped, still living in the shadow of a dead woman, still bound to the whims of a god who mourned like a man.

And yet, deep inside, something stirred—a flicker of defiance, of hope. You might be a ghost to him, a reflection of a lost love, but you were still alive. You were still you, and as long as you drew breath, you would not allow yourself to be consumed by his shadows. Not without a fight.

Time passed slowly in Sukuna’s palace, and with it, your heart began to change. You did not notice it at first; how could you? Day after day, the monotonous routine of your existence lulled you into a sort of numbness. The gardens became your refuge, the sky your solace.

Yet even as you tried to find comfort in these simple pleasures, you found your thoughts wandering back to him—Ryomen Sukuna, the fearsome god, the monster, the man who mourned like a human.

At first, you hated him, hated him for what he represented, for what he had made you into: a replacement, a mere shadow of someone who had meant everything to him. But as you watched him, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you began to see more.

You began to notice the things others did not—the subtle tension in his jaw when he was angry, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he spoke of her, the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking, and the mask slipped, just a little.

You were in the garden one afternoon, trimming the roses, when you heard footsteps approaching. Sukuna rarely came to the garden, but today he seemed restless, pacing along the paths with a dark expression on his face. He stopped by the old cherry blossom tree, his eyes distant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Without thinking, you moved closer. "Is something troubling you, my lord?" you asked quietly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You had learned not to provoke him, to keep your words soft and your gaze steady.

Sukuna looked at you sharply, as if surprised you had dared to speak. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his tone harsh, but you had seen the flicker of something else—a fleeting vulnerability, perhaps? “Such matters are none for you to care about, little one.”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I see you every day, my lord.” you replied softly. “I see how you… struggle over something. And I cannot help but… care.”

He scoffed, but it was a hollow sound. “Care?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “You think you understand me, mortal? You think you can comprehend the depths of what I am, of what I have lost?”

You bowed your head, feeling the sting of his words but refusing to back down. “I don’t pretend to understand, my lord.” you murmured. “But I see the pain in your eyes, the way you linger in places she once loved, the way you… look at me.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands unclenching. “You are a fool, little one.” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “A fool to think you can feel anything for me.”

And maybe you were a fool. A fool to care for a man who did not care for you, who saw you only as a shadow of someone else. But you could not help it. You could not stop the way your heart ached when you saw him, the way your breath caught when he looked at you with those sad, tired eyes.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him, not by his power or his beauty, but by the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The moments when his face softened, and you saw the man beneath the monster, the man who had loved so deeply and lost so terribly.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the places where he had been wounded, and you wanted, desperately, to reach out and touch them, to soothe the pain you knew he carried.

You found yourself thinking of him when you were alone, wondering what had made him this way, what had broken him so completely. You imagined him before all of this, before the darkness, before the loss, and you felt a strange, deep sorrow for the man he might have been.

One evening, as you were leaving the garden, you saw him standing by the cherry blossom tree again, his face turned upward, staring at the pale blooms against the darkening sky. He looked so lonely, so unbearably alone, that you felt your heart tighten in your chest.

Without thinking, you approached him, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “My lord, look.” you said softly, and he did not turn away. “The blossoms… they’re beautiful this year.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hiromi loved them.” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you could not quite name. “Fond of them.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I imagine she did, my lord.” you replied. “They’re… peaceful.”

He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the flowers. Then he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She was… my peace.” he admitted, his tone so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten painfully. “And now… there is only emptiness.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that he was not as alone as he thought, but you knew he would not accept it. So you stood there, beside him, sharing the silence, hoping that maybe, in some small way, your presence could ease the ache in his heart.

And slowly, painfully, you realized that you were falling into the saddest position in the world. You were beginning to care for him, truly care for him, despite knowing that he did not, and could not, care for you. You were beginning to understand him, to see the depths of his sorrow, to feel the weight of his loss as if it were your own.

You were living as a shadow, and yet… you found yourself wishing, hoping, that someday he might see you as something more. Even if you were just a reflection of a memory, even if you could never be her, you wished, desperately, that you could become someone to him.

But as you looked at him, at the emptiness in his eyes, you knew that day might never come. And still, you could not help but care.

Days continued to slip by in a blur of silent moments and stolen glances, and though you tried to keep your heart guarded, you felt it slipping further and further away from you, like water through your fingers. You had resigned yourself to your fate—a concubine in name, a ghost in truth. You had accepted that Sukuna would never see you as anything more than a mere echo of what he had lost.

But as time passed, you noticed a subtle change in him. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, or how his tone softened when he spoke to you. It was in the quiet moments when you would catch him watching you, his expression inscrutable, as if he were trying to decipher some mystery he could not quite solve.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, you found yourself in the garden again. Sukuna was there, seated on a low stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, his face turned upward as if searching for something in the dying light.

You approached cautiously, unsure if he wanted your presence or not. He did not turn to look at you, but he did not send you away, either. You took it as a small mercy, a silent invitation to sit beside him.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, delicate and unbroken. Finally, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “You are always here, little one.” he murmured. “Always watching. Why?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I see you, my lord.” you replied quietly. “I see the way you carry your pain, the way you hide it behind your eyes. I… I understand it, in a way.”

He turned to you then, his gaze piercing, searching your face as if trying to find the truth hidden within your words. “And what do you think you understand?” he asked, a note of challenge in his tone.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his stare. “I think you loved her more than life itself, my lord.” you said softly. “And I think losing her broke something inside of you that will never heal.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the stillness like a knife. “You presume to know my heart, mortal.” he said, but there was no true malice in his voice, only a deep, hollow emptiness. “You think because you look like her, you can speak of love and loss?”

“I do not pretend to be her, my lord.” you answered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “But I know what it is to lose, to live with emptiness. I know what it means to be alone, even in a crowded room.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could almost see the man beneath the monster, the one who had loved and lost, who had once been capable of kindness, of tenderness.

“You think you know loneliness?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. “You think you know what it is to love someone so deeply that their absence is like a knife in your soul, cutting you with every breath?”

“I think I’m starting to understand, my lord.” you whispered. “More than I ever wanted to.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched tight, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You are a fool.” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only a weary resignation. “You should hate me. You should despise me for what I am, for what I have made you.”

You shook your head slowly. “I can’t, my lord.” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I see the pain in your eyes, the way you look at me… the way you remember her. I can’t hate you for that. I just… I wish things were different.”

He turned to you sharply, and for a moment, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze, something that spoke of a longing he had buried deep within himself. “Different?” he repeated, almost scoffing. “There is no ‘different’ for us. This is the world we have been given, and we must live in it.”

You felt your heart clench painfully, knowing he was right, knowing that no matter how much you wished for it, you could never truly reach him, could never become more than what you were—a shadow, a reflection of a woman long gone.

But you could not stop yourself from caring, from hoping that somehow, someway, he might see you, truly see you, not as a ghost or a replacement, but as a person in your own right.

You sighed, turning your gaze to the blossoms above. “I know, my lord.” you murmured. “I know that better than anyone. But I still… I still want to understand you. I still care, even if you don’t care for me.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much, crossed a line you could never return from. But then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand in his, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You are a strange one, little one.” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “To care for a monster… to care for a man who has nothing left to give.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you did not bother to hide it. “Maybe I’m just a fool, my lord” you whispered. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help but care for you, even when I know you can’t care for me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some answer he could not find. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it took your breath away.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.”

But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.”

And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

══════════════════

TIME FLEW BY AND WITH THAT, YOU AGED TOO. Slowly, like the steady drip of water carving its path through stone, Ryomen Sukuna began to accept your presence as something constant in his life. At first, it was subtle—the way he no longer sent you away when you appeared by his side, the way he allowed you to linger in his chambers or the garden without a word of complaint.

Over time, it grew into something more. He began to call for you, not often, but enough that you noticed. Sometimes, it was just to sit in silence while he read or stared into the fire, and other times, he would speak to you, his voice low and distant, as if he were speaking to himself rather than you.

He did not love you; you knew that much with painful certainty. His heart belonged to another, to a woman whose name he whispered in his dreams, whose memory seemed to haunt his every step. You were not her, and you never would be. You were a shadow of what he had lost, a pale reflection of a love that had burned too bright and consumed itself in the flames.

But he tolerated you, and in this dark, twisted place where fear ruled and love was a forgotten dream, that was enough. You had learned to find solace in the little things—the way his gaze would occasionally soften when he looked at you, the rare moments when his voice held a note of something other than indifference.

You knew you would never escape Hiromi’s shadow. Her ghost lingered in every corner of this place, in every whispered word and hushed breath, in the way his eyes darkened whenever he spoke of her.

You were not foolish enough to think you could ever replace her in his heart, nor did you wish to. You had come to terms with your fate, with the cruel twist of destiny that had brought you here, to this palace where the walls seemed to whisper her name.

For the finite years of your mortal life, you would be what you were to him—an echo, a shadow, a living memory of something lost. You could have fought against it, could have railed against the injustice of it all, but you chose not to. You chose to make peace with what fate had given you, to find what small joys you could in the fleeting moments he allowed you to be near him.

There were times when the weight of your existence threatened to crush you, when you longed to scream, to demand that he see you for who you were, not for the woman you resembled. But those moments were few and far between, and you had learned to push them down, to bury them deep within your heart where they could not hurt you.

Instead, you found contentment in the little things—in the way his presence filled the room, in the rare, unguarded moments when he would speak to you of things he had buried deep within himself. You listened to his stories, the ones he told in quiet tones when he thought no one was listening, and you treasured them like precious gems, tiny fragments of the man he had once been.

You learned to be grateful for what you had, even if it was not what you had dreamed of. You accepted that you would always live in the shadow of Hiromi, that you would always be the "other woman"; the one who was not loved, but merely tolerated. And for as long as you had breath in your lungs and life in your veins, you chose to find peace in that.

You sat beside him by the fire, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression thoughtful. He did not look at you, but you could feel his presence, warm and solid beside you, a reminder that you were not entirely alone in this world.

You turned your gaze to the fire, letting the heat warm your face, and you whispered, almost to yourself, “I do not ask for more than this. I am… content with what I have.”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to understand your words. “Content?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are content being nothing but a shadow?”

You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Contentment is a choice, my lord.” you replied. “I chose to be content with what fate has given me. It is not happiness, but it is enough.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are wiser than I thought now, little one.” he murmured. “To find peace in a place like this… it is no easy feat.”

You nodded, knowing he spoke more to himself than to you. You had accepted that you would never be more than a shadow in his life, but even shadows had their place, their purpose. You would be content with that, for as long as your mortal years allowed.

The days passed with a creeping heaviness that settled into your bones, a fatigue that no amount of rest could cure. You began to feel the strain in every step, the way your breath came shorter, the way your limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. At first, you dismissed it as exhaustion, a lingering effect of sleepless nights and endless thoughts that twisted in your mind like shadows.

But then came the coughing fits, each one more violent than the last, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp pain in your chest. You ignored it at first, waving away the concerned glances of the servants who attended you. You kept your back straight and your face serene, refusing to acknowledge the way your body seemed to betray you.

Yet it grew harder to hide. The pain became more frequent, stabbing through your lungs like a knife with every breath, every step. The first time you coughed up blood, it was a shock—a bright, vivid red staining your hand. Your heart raced as you stared at the crimson stain, panic rising like bile in your throat.

You quickly wiped it away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, you were alone in your chamber, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing yourself to calm down. There was no reason to be afraid, you told yourself. It was just a momentary lapse, nothing more.

But it wasn’t. It happened again, and again. You found yourself waking in the night, gasping for air, your throat raw and burning. The servants began to notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you would clutch your side when you thought no one was looking, the way you moved a little slower, a little more carefully.

There was a day that you sat in the garden, trying to find solace in the soft petals of the cherry blossoms, a violent fit seized you. You doubled over, coughing hard, and felt something wet and warm splatter against your lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and saw the unmistakable smear of blood.

A sharp gasp came from behind you. One of the younger servants had seen, her eyes wide with fear and concern. She rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to steady you.

“My lady, oh my!” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. “It is nothing.” you said, your voice hoarse. “Do not worry yourself over me.”

The servant looked unconvinced, her brow furrowed with concern. “I must tell Lord Sukuna.” she said quickly, glancing toward the entrance of the garden as if she expected him to appear at any moment. “He must know—”

“No, no…..” you cut her off sharply, your voice firmer than you had intended. “There is no point in that.”

She hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. “But, my lady… you are unwell. He should—”

“He would not care, little girl.” you said softly, looking down at your blood-stained hand. “There is no use in troubling him with this. It would make no difference. Sukuna does not love me, nor does he care for me in that way. Do you think he would be moved by something as trivial as this?”

The servant bit her lip, clearly torn between her duty to you and her fear of Sukuna’s wrath. “But… if he knew, he might—”

“Might what?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a quiet resignation. “Send a healer? Take pity on me? No, he would not. I am nothing more than a reminder to him, a shadow of a past he cannot let go. He tolerates me, yes, but that is all.”

The servant looked at you, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. She knew as well as you did that Sukuna’s heart was a barren, desolate place, filled with ghosts and haunted memories. There was no room for you there.

“Promise me, little girl.” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression tight with worry. “I promise, my lady.” she murmured, though you could hear the doubt in her voice.

You leaned back against the tree, closing your eyes and letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. You knew there was no point in hoping for more than what you had. Sukuna had given you a place by his side, but it was not out of affection. He had lost the woman he truly loved, and you were only a semblance of her—a shadow he tolerated, nothing more.

You were dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way to free yourself from this liminal existence, to escape the torment of being a living reminder of what he had lost. You could find peace in that, you thought. At least, you could try.

You would not burden him with your illness, with your slow, inevitable decline. You would carry it quietly, with dignity, for whatever time you had left. After all, what was one more life in the grand, cruel scheme of his world? You were just another fleeting moment in the endless march of time—another sacrifice, another offering to a man who had already lost everything he had ever cared for.

══════════════════

YOU DECIDED TO LET FATE RUN ITS COURSE. You let time pass by, letting the illness be hidden in the shadows of low whispers and painful tears in your long suffering days and nights. And sure enough, Ryomen Sukuna had returned from his long and exhausting trip within the next few days.

He had been famished from his trip and sent word that he would be having supper with you that night, which you had obliged without another word. You dressed in your finest, watching the servants prepare the table in your chambers and calmly thanked them one after another as they left.

The evening had settled into its usual quiet rhythm, with the two of you sharing dinner in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of roasted meat and simmered vegetables filled the air.

It was a routine you had come to accept with a resigned sort of familiarity, a ritual that offered a small measure of normalcy in your otherwise constrained existence.

You sat across from Sukuna, picking at your meal with an absent-mindedness that spoke more to your weariness than any lack of appetite. His presence was imposing, yet tonight, he was unusually subdued, his attention focused on the food in front of him rather than on you. And somehow, you were a bit more grateful for it.

As you took a sip from your cup, you looked up at him, your expression earnest. "My lord, do you not think you should be more understanding of your subjects?" you began, your voice gentle but firm. "I must implore you once more to be more lenient with the people. The fear you instill is one thing, but mercy could win you their loyalty and respect."

Sukuna's eyes, dark and inscrutable, met yours. He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if weighing your words. This was not the first time you had made this plea, and it was not likely to be the last. You had grown accustomed to his silence, to the way he would listen but rarely act upon your suggestions.

"It is not for me to coddle them, little one." he said finally, his voice low and dismissive. "Fear is a more effective tool than mercy. It ensures obedience."

You sighed softly, knowing well that your words often fell on deaf ears. Still, you persisted, driven by a conviction that even the smallest act of kindness could make a difference. "I understand your perspective, my lord, but sometimes even the harshest rulers find strength in showing compassion. It can—"

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden, sharp pain gripped your chest. You gasped, doubling over slightly, and a violent coughing fit overtook you. You struggled to steady yourself, but the force of it was too strong. Blood splattered onto the table, the vibrant red stark against the white of your kimono and the pale wood of the dining surface.

Your heart raced as you quickly wiped the blood away with your sleeve, hoping to hide the evidence of your distress. You tried to maintain your composure, but your hands were trembling as you looked up at Sukuna, who had gone still, his eyes fixed on the crimson stain.

For a moment, there was a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze was heavy and unyielding, his red eyes locked onto the blood that had marred the table and your attire. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his silence, a heavy burden that pressed down upon you.

"It's nothing, my lord." you said hurriedly, forcing a weak smile as you tried to brush off the incident. "Just a momentary lapse. Please, continue with your meal."

Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He did not speak, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or concern, or something deeper that he quickly masked.

You could feel the tension between you, an invisible thread connecting your quiet plea to his unspoken thoughts. It was clear that your condition had not gone unnoticed, even if he chose not to acknowledge it openly. You had always been a presence in his life, but tonight, the reality of your fragility seemed to cut through the usual indifference.

He took a deep breath, his gaze finally shifting away from you as he turned his attention back to his meal. The silence that followed was filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation from the servants who hovered at the edges of the room, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed concern.

You ate in silence, each bite of food tasting like ash in your mouth. The pain in your chest had subsided, but a deep weariness remained, a lingering reminder of your deteriorating health. You glanced at Sukuna from time to time, but he was absorbed in his meal, his expression unreadable.

The conversation you had tried to initiate was now buried beneath the weight of your illness, and you knew better than to press further. The battle for his leniency would have to wait for another day, another time when you were not so overshadowed by your own suffering.

As the meal drew to a close, you felt the oppressive silence settle around you once more. Sukuna’s gaze was distant, his thoughts seemingly occupied with matters beyond the confines of the dining room. You could only hope that, in some small way, your presence had made a difference, even if it was not the kind you had hoped for.

When the servants cleared away the dishes and the room began to empty, you excused yourself, retreating to your chamber with a heavy heart. You knew that your time here was growing shorter, that the end was approaching with each passing day. But for now, you would carry on, finding what small measure of peace you could in the fleeting moments you had left.

And as you lay down in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you could not help but think of the blood you had tried to hide, of the way Sukuna’s eyes had lingered on it. You could only hope that someday, he might see you not as a mere shadow or a reminder of what he had lost, but as a person who had tried, in her own way, to make a difference in his world.

The next morning, you awoke to a disorienting cacophony of shouts and harsh reprimands. The once-familiar silence of your quarters was shattered by the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. Your heart sank as you stumbled out of bed, a sharp pain reminding you of the night before.

As you made your way through the hallways, the noise grew louder, mingling with the harsh, angry tones of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice. Your mind raced, dreading what you might find. You knew it already. You have seen it in the other households of the other concubines. And you can only know what had caused such a commotion. When you reached the courtyard, the scene before you was both startling and terrifying.

Your servants were gathered in the center of the courtyard, their faces pale with fear and their postures crumpled under the weight of Sukuna’s wrath. He stood at the center of the commotion, his expression thunderous as he raged at them. His anger was palpable, his words a relentless storm of fury directed at those who had failed to inform him of your condition.

Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. The courtyard fell into a stunned silence as Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"My lord, please." you began, your voice trembling as you bowed deeply, your forehead nearly touching the ground. "This is my fault, not theirs. I beg for your forgiveness and mercy for my servants."

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he took in your contrite posture, his anger momentarily faltering. He regarded you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, his dark, unforgiving, gaze sharp as he assessed your sincerity.

"It was my decision to hide my illness, my lord." you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I did not want to trouble you or cause unnecessary concern. Please, spare them your anger. They were only following my wishes."

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent for a moment, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The servants, though still shaken, dared to lift their eyes to you, their expressions a blend of relief and apprehension.

Finally, Sukuna's gaze softened, a hint of resignation creeping into his expression. He took a deep breath, his anger dissipating as he looked at you with a new intensity. "You would take the blame for them?" he asked, his voice low and edged with incredulity.

You nodded, maintaining your bowed position. "Yes, my lord. It was my choice, my responsibility. I could not bear the thought of them being punished for my actions."

Sukuna’s expression hardened slightly, but the fury in his eyes had dimmed. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will accept any punishment I shall put upon you.”

You swallowed the bile down your throat. “Yes, my lord.”

“Then I will call for healers. You will see them immediately." He says, as though it was the final verdict. “You will see them, all of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes, my lord.” You whispered back to him.

He turned away from the servants, his gaze now fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity. "Go." he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "See to your health, you foolish girl. Your servants too can go. They will tend to you, no matter what you ask.”

You straightened slowly, a mixture of relief and trepidation washing over you. You dared to look up at Sukuna, meeting his eyes briefly before turning to address the servants.

"Thank you, my lord." you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude. "You have done nothing wrong. Please, return to your duties."

With a final, respectful bow, you turned and headed back toward your quarters with the help of your servants. As you entered your quarters, you felt like you had lived a thousand lifetimes in that one moment. Your servants were bowing at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. But you had all but shooed them away, telling them it was your duty as their master.

You wanted to be alone right now. At least when you still had the chance. When the healers arrive, you would have a life to yourself any longer. You would be stuck in their mercy, with their potions and their whims.

You must prepare yourself for the arrival of the healers. You groaned lowly as you clutch your chest, a wave of pain hitting one after the other. It will be over soon, that’s what you hoped. That’s what you want. You want to be free from this pain. You wanted nothing more than to be free.

══════════════════

THE PAIN WAS RELENTLESS. The days dragged on in a relentless cycle of pain and futile hope. Despite the best efforts of countless healers, none seemed able to bring you any real relief.

If anything, your condition worsened, each new treatment only seeming to accelerate your quick decline. Ryomen Sukuna’s frustration was palpable; his anger had become a regular presence, casting a long shadow over the already bleak atmosphere of the estate.

You had heard the whispers of the fate that befell each healer who failed to improve your condition. It was a grim reminder of Sukuna’s volatility, a dangerous mix of desperation and rage. The once-bustling quarters were now filled with an air of fearful tension as new healers arrived, only to face Sukuna’s wrath when their efforts proved ineffectual.

On one of the rare days when you felt well enough to leave your bed, you chose to sit by the garden. The fresh air and the sight of the vibrant blooms were a welcome distraction from the constant ache in your body. You had managed to position yourself on a stool under the gentle shade of a cherry tree, finding some small comfort in watching the birds flit about, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become your life.

Sukuna appeared in the garden, his presence as imposing as ever. He walked with a deliberate pace, his gaze scanning the surroundings with an air of detached observation. As he neared, you looked up and greeted him with a smile, though the effort felt heavy, as if each movement was a strain against the burden of your illness.

“My lord.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “The skies are beautiful today, aren’t they?”

Sukuna stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your serene expression. The silence stretched between you, an unspoken tension that lingered like the heat of a summer day. He said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “How is it that you can accept death with such… calm?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, taken aback by his question. A laugh escaped you, soft and brittle, more out of surprise than genuine amusement. “Accept death, my lord?” you repeated. “I haven’t accepted death, in truth. But there is no way to avoid it.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained on you, his expression unreadable as he listened. You continued, your voice tinged with a philosophical resignation. “Death will come for all of us, eventually. It’s a natural end to this life. We all must face it in our own time. In that way, we are all freed from the burdens of this world.”

He studied you with a mixture of skepticism and something akin to contemplation. “You speak as if it is an inevitability you embrace, little one.”

“Not embrace, my lord.” you corrected gently, sighing. “But acknowledge. It’s a part of life, as much as the beginning is. We can fight it or we can accept it, but it will come regardless.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. He seemed to be weighing your words, his usual fierceness replaced by an unusual quiet. “And you are not afraid, then?”

“Fear?” You tilted your head, considering the question. “I suppose I am afraid of the pain that might come before the end. But fear of death itself? Not so much. It’s merely another step in the journey, my lord. That is what I believe, at least.”

For a moment, there was a stillness between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds. Sukuna’s eyes flickered to the sky, perhaps contemplating the vastness of existence you had spoken of. The anger that had once seemed so consuming in his presence now appeared subdued, replaced by a contemplative silence.

“I see.” he said finally, his tone carrying a trace of grudging respect. “Your words are… unusual.”

You smiled faintly, a tired but genuine expression. “Perhaps. But sometimes, facing the truth can be a way to find peace, my lord.”

Sukuna stood there for a while longer, his presence a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the garden’s tranquility. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his demeanor less harsh than before. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded as he walked away, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

As you sat there, watching the birds and the shifting clouds, you felt a small measure of contentment. Sukuna’s visit had brought a moment of introspection, a reminder of the fragile balance between life and death. Even in your suffering, you found a semblance of peace, understanding that acceptance was not about surrendering to fate but about finding a way to live with it, even as the end loomed ever closer.

And just like that, the day you had dreaded finally arrived. And truly, you were left feeling an unbearable weakness that signaled the end was near. The once-familiar confines of your quarters now seemed like a distant world, and the pain of your illness was a constant, gnawing presence. Each breath was a struggle, each moment of consciousness a battle against the encroaching darkness.

To your surprise, your lord Sukuna appeared by your side as you lay on your bed, his imposing figure contrasting sharply with the fragility of your own condition. He had not been a part of your daily existence in the past weeks, his visits sporadic and his presence usually marked by anger and frustration. But now, he was here, seated beside you in a rare display of stillness.

You looked at him through the haze of pain and weakness, your voice a mere whisper. “My lord, it seems this is my time to part from you.”

Sukuna’s eyes were steady, his gaze betraying an emotion you could not fully decipher. “I know, little one.” he replied simply, his voice holding a note of finality.

A pained laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with a shuddering breath. “I only wish… I could avoid being reborn into such misery again. To be the other woman, to be nothing to you.”

Sukuna’s silence stretched between you, a weighty pause that seemed to deepen the divide between you. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You were something.”

You shook your head, the effort to move even slightly causing a fresh wave of agony. “You lie easily, as you breathe, my lord.” you said with a faint, sorrowful smile.

The silence that followed was heavy and palpable, filled with the unspoken complexities of your relationship. As you lay there, the end drawing closer with each passing moment, you found a strange clarity in the finality of your situation.

“I love you, my lord.” you said softly, the words carrying a weight that transcended the physical pain. “As sad as it is, I do. But I have no intention of having it returned. I hope that, in the next life, I never meet you again.”

Sukuna’s expression remained impassive, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his usual stoic demeanor. As you took your final, labored breaths, his sigh was a mix of resignation and something deeper, something that spoke to the complexity of your intertwined fates.

“I hope so too, little one.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare touch of vulnerability.

With those words hanging in the air, you felt a sense of release, the weight of your suffering beginning to lift. As your consciousness faded and the pain finally ebbed away, you left behind the world that had been both your prison and your refuge. Ryomen Sukuna looked at your lifeless body, pursing his lips into a flat line.

“Live on in a better life, little one.” He whispered, his fingers brushing against your hair. “May you be loved by someone who loves you. May we never meet again, my other woman."

2K notes · View notes

ylangelegy · 17 days ago

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is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.”

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell.

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you.

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.”

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily.

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you.

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument.

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter.

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.”

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in.

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—”

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong.

You break away from him.

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?”

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue.

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that.

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after.

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff.

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved.

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night.

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears.

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely.

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin.

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face.

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt.

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low.

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall.

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets.

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—"

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to.

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him.

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear.

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication.

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there.

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command.

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back.

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes.

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately.

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—”

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts.

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his.

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words.

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing.

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little.

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous.

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.”

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure.

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you.

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them.

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane.

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp.

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you.

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this.

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems.

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow.

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night.

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung."

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol.

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

"You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone.

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one.

#seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt smut #seventeen smut #( am i happy with this ? not ... entirely! but it's here! LOL )#( i think i've mentioned once before that i'm not very good at smut so this was dizzying )#( but it's also The longest svt fic i have in my drafts. i just cant be assed [yet] to beta it )#( anyway.... enjoy [???] <3 )#୨ৎ muse .ᐟ svt #୨ৎ penned by ylangelegy

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teapot-studies · 2 years ago

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Random writing tips that my history professor just told during class that are actually helpful

Download all your sources or print them so you can turn off your wifi

Give your phone to someone

Just. WRITE. Writing is analysing, you’ll get more ideas as you write. It doesn’t need to be perfect, for now you can just blurt out words and ideas randomly. You can fix it later.

Create a skeleton/structure before writing.

Stop before you get exhausted. It’s best to stop writing when you still have some energy and inspiration left, this will also motivate you to get started again next time.

Make a to do list

Work in bite sizes. Even if it’s not much, as long as you put some ideas on paper or do some editing.

Simple language =/= boring language, simple language = clear language.

Own your words. If they are not your words, state this clearly in the text, not just in the footnotes.

STOP BEFORE YOU GET EXHAUSTED. Listing it again because it’s easily one of the best tips a teacher has ever given me.

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beansprean · 1 month ago

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manipulative grown baby colin rly is the star of the show

My Familiar’s Ghost part 86

Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of Guillermo's orange vampire eyes with slitted pupils, looking tired and frustrated. He says, 'This is so unnecessary...' 1b. Background showing the cage in the basement draped with silver chains, Nandor and Guillermo trapped within while Nadja, Colin, and Laszlo stand outside. Guillermo is pressed against the side closest to them, hands gripping the bars, and Nandor is leaning on the back wall with his arms crossed. Several bubbles with close ups of the characters pop up in the foreground as they speak. Colin, grinning maniacally and holding up the sparking cattle prod so the light reflects off his glasses, shouts 'We decide what's necessary, fool!' Guillermo turns from Colin to gesture frantically toward the others, asking, 'Who bought him another cattle prod?' Laszlo glances away, looking as contrite as he is capable of, and replies 'Whomever it was, I'm sure they regretted it immediately.' Nadja looks down sympathetically at her husband and says 'My love, I know you have been absolutely whipped by Colin Robinson, but we will have that intervention at another time.'

2a. Split panel, close up of Nandor on the left and Guillermo on the right in their same positions in the cage. They both startle and blurt out in unison, 'Intervention?!' Offscreen, Laszlo says 'Too right, by darling. These lobcocks have been left on the shelf too long.' 2b. Chest up of Colin, who is twirling the cattle prod authoritatively in the air as he says, 'Unlike Harvey Lowe Lifetime Achievement Award winner Dale Myrberg, we're tired of all this g-damned yo-yo-ing!' An asterisk on Dale Myrberg's name leads to a footnote which reads 'Decorated yo-yo player and US national grand master (yo-yo.fandom.com/wiki/dale_myrberg)' Next to him, Nadja gestures toward Colin with a hand and says 'What he said! ...I think... Yes, we have been exhausted by the slow burning of your groins,' 2c. Close up of Nadja in profile in the foreground as she rounds on the cage and points at Nandor and Guillermo accusingly. She continues, snarling through her fangs, 'And we are not letting you out until you un-stink your sad penises!' In the background, Guillermo, still hanging onto the bars at the front, blushes, snaps his mouth closed, and brings his knees in as if to cover his crotch. Nandor, still positioned at the back wall, blushes and looks away, hands darting down to cover his own. 2d. Waist up of Laszlo as he begins to ascend the stairs out of the dungeon in the foreground, Nadja close behind. In the background, Nandor stands wide-eyed in the cage, watching them go. Guillermo presses himself again to the bars, desperately calling out, 'Wha-? W-wait, guys, come on!' Laszlo raises one finger above his head to point dramatically over his shoulder at the cage below and says, 'When we return, there had better be words in mouths or dicks in arses!' Guillermo shouts, 'Laszlo!!'

3a. Waist up of Colin at the dungeon door, already leaving but leaning back in as Guillermo calls out uncertainly from below, 'Colin?' Colin puts on a shiny-eyed pleading expression, sparkles forming around his head, and says, 'Sorry, Uncle Memo, but as the great lyricist Katheryn Hudson sang, 'we fight, we break up, we kiss, we make up.' It's time to finish the song.' An asterisk after the lyrics leads to a footnote which reads 'from 2008 hit single 'Hot N Cold' by Katy Perry (katyperry.fandom.com/wiki/hot_n_cold).' 3b. Repeat. Colin slams the door shut behind him, leaving with the parting words, 'I don't wanna be a child of divorce!' 3c. Shoulders up on Guillermo back in the cage, Nandor stepping forward behind him to point an accusatory finger up at the now-closed door. He sneers, 'Playing the 'child' card will not work on me, Colin Robinson!!' Guillermo, eyes shining with guilt and mouth going wobbly as he looks toward the closed door, says nothing. Text nearby points at him and reads 'working on him'. /end ID

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #nandermo #mlm #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #colin robinson #nadja of antipaxos #laszlo cravensworth #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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painted-flag · 5 months ago

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From Eden. Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist (Part two here)

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x velaryon!oc

✧.* summary: caught in the brewing of war, Daenys Velaryon must forge alliances for her mother's claim to the throne. The Riverlands are paramount and she had the inexplicable luck of meeting Benjicot Blackwood.

✧.* word count: 11k.

✧.* note: this is a whopping long imagine. thank you all for the support on the preview. this is brought to you by instant ramen and my inability to focus on coursework. no beta reader as I live life on the edge (truthfully i do not have any)

A loud clap of thunder followed in succession by the flashing of lightning illuminated the library of Dragonstone. In the late hour of the wolf, Daenys found herself entombed within the walls of parchment, scanning drawn-up battle plans and strategies written by maesters who had nary seen a single battle. The feeling of ever-present stress loomed over her, creeping from the shadows that were not illuminated by scattered candles. That feeling of anxiety - pressing down harshly on her chest - had been a footnote in her life.

Daenys did not need to be a dragon dreamer, like her namesake, to see the future of her house. War was coming, that much was obvious. She knew at the age of nine that her mother’s claim would be challenged and since then her life had been spent preparing. The intensity of conflict did not matter, Daenys would be prepared regardless. So, like most nights, she had settled herself among the pages of books. Her body, worn from training all day, had relished in the feeling of sitting down in a plush chair.

The book in her lap, An Analysis of Ground Moves of the First Dornish War, had begun to kill her mood. The maestor who wrote it had no skill of explanation, nor seemed to have care for fighting in general. She cursed his weak analyses on certain moves and more outwardly she cursed the tone in which he wrote when speaking of her Targaryen ancestors - in particular the women. Daenys leaned back in her chair and repressed the urge to chuck to tome across the room. All that access to knowledge and training yet maesters still seemed to fall short.

The echoes of footsteps sounded between claps of thunder. Daenys glanced up to see her mother. Rhaenyra had her hair down in light waves. The nightclothes she wore were made from black and red fabrics and stitched in the fashion of dragon-influenced style, part of a matching set that the two women shared. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth set in a line. The heir apparent sat down in the chair beside her daughter and glanced at the book in Daenys lap.

“The hour is late, yet you are out of bed?”

Daenys’ arms rested on the book, “Sleep could not come.”

“Or have you run from sleep? Increasingly so, as of late.” Her mother’s observation cut deep. It was true, for Daenys had become antsy. More and more nights were spent reading, and even more days training with the sword. Exhaustion had become her friend and respite her enemy. She felt behind, as her training had only started a few years prior - after years of requesting to learn. Any day a war could break, yet she sat about for most of her life doing nothing but sewing and other pointless tasks to be a good wife.

“Don’t you feel it, mother? That sinking feeling of... something clawing at your feet for that damned throne.” Daenys’ gaze rose to meet Rhaenyra. As her mother's only daughter by birth, they held a certain bond. The ability to understand what one another wished to say without so much as a word. A twitch of the brow, a quiver of the lip, or the tilt of their head was worth more than what any uttered words could convey. Mother and daughter, one unable to live without the other. Like bees and flowers or the moon and sun. A push and pull of exchange. Rhaenyra knew her daughter wanted to help, and it crushed her. She wanted Daenys to live without that fear - to relish in her days as a princess.

“The burden is not yours to bear alone,” Daenys spoke after a minute of silence. Rhaenyra sported a fleeting smile at her daughter's words.

“I know, but it does not pain me any less,” Rhaenyra adjusted in her seat, “Is there anything you wish to discuss about it?”

“We need the Riverlands.” There was not a moment of pause between her mother's question and the answer. “There is loyalty secured in many regions, especially the North, but the Riverlands are important. We do not have a strong enough hold there.”

Rhaenyra resisted smiling at Daenys eagerness in politics. Had she been born minutes before Jacaerys instead of afterwards, Rhaenyra would have been confident in claiming her as heir. Jacaerys, as dutiful as he could be, was still lagging in comparison to his twin regarding diplomacy.

“And how do you propose to remedy this?”

Daenys paused, reluctance flashed across her face for a moment but she pushed it down. “I have to marry.” Rhaenyra tilted her head in a questioning manner but Danys continued, “I know I have been against it, but you need a strong foothold in those lands. Many major battles in history are fought there and if our house is to remain strong, we must command as much of it as possible.”

“The Tully’s have no available members to marry.”

“We needn't rely on House Tully. There are other houses there that are sure to have available sons. House Frey, Mooton, Bracken, Mudd, Blackwood, Lothston, and many more. One that is as close to the Tully’s as possible and stocked with a good amount of soldiers.” Daenys’ gaze swept along the darkened room, the bookshelves being illuminated by a small number of candles and the raging storm outside.

“I want you to be happy-”

“My happiness is seeing you on that throne. Mother, you deserve it more than any other fat and drunk lord who lives on the continent.” The women giggled, and for a brief moment the storm outside - political and natural - ceased to exist.

“This is what you want?” Rhaenyra held her breath after she asked. Daenys nodded gently. They once again settled into a silence, their eyes focused on the flames inside the hearth. More thunderous roars from outside continued to assail Dragonstone. “I have some news, of which only a few know.”

Daenys sat up straighter, intrigued with what her mother had brought up. She marked her spot in the book and placed it on the small table beside her chair. Her body turned to see her mother more clearly.

“I am with child.” Rhaenyra’s words echoed in the room, “It was just confirmed this morning with the maester.”

“That’s good news, mother, truly.” Daenys reached out to hold Rhaenyra’s hand. They both smiled, content to last in their bubble.

“I think it's a girl. There is something about this pregnancy that feels different than all the rest.” The heir to the Iron Throne spoke softly, but loud enough to be heard above the raging storm.

“Good. We’ve been dreadfully lacking women in the family. We are outnumbered.” Daenys looked back at her book, the title of the First Dornish War embossed into the leather binding, “Visenya.”

Rhaenyra looked at her quizzically, and Daenys continued, “You should name her Visenya.”

Her mother smiled gently and nodded, “I shall take that to heart. Now,” She got out of her seat, “Get to bed, ñuha prūmia.” Rhaenyra gave Daenys a gentle kiss on her forehead before walking away and out of the library.

Daenys stayed in her seat, gazing mindlessly into the fireplace. Her heart was heavy. The prospect of marriage never worried her much. Any suitor that wished to court her quickly ran upon seeing her stepfather Daemon, who always seemed to grip Dark Sister tightly when they approached - a signal of warning. She never had to worry about ending up with a foul lord, or even end up marrying any time soon. Yet, her allegiance to her mother was stronger than any distaste for being wed. She got up and blew out some of the candles around her.

She made her way across the library, down the many winding halls of Dragonstone, and into her bedchamber. Once settled at her vanity, she put her hair in a simple braid to protect it while she slept. Turning towards her bed, she spotted her sword resting against the chest placed at its foot. She walked over and unsheathed the steel. It was not Valyrian steel, unfortunately. But, the piece was expertly crafted at the behest of Daemon. Her hand gripped the hilt and the other gently traced the centre of the blade.

Daenys swore that she would not make the task of gaining her hand easy for the Riverland lords. If her mother were to gain an ally, he would need to prove his worth. She had built up a reputation over the years. A beauty, that much is true, and the ability to charm members of the court easily, despite what some gossip about her parentage may say. However, upon being taught to fight by Daemon, she had managed to also build up a reputation for sharp wit and even sharper fighting skills.

Exhaustion had finally caught up to her, so she moved to put the sword away and crawl into bed. Once settled, Daenys fell into a world of dreams.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys wished, with all her heart, that she could go back in time and club herself over the head for even suggesting a search for a husband in the Riverlands. The conversation with her mother two weeks ago quickly led to plans being laid. Daenys, on the back of her dragon Suneater, and her brother Jacaerys on the back of Vermax, had arrived at Riverrun to be greeted by Lord Elmo Tully. A kind old man, with dark red hair, streaked with the white of age. Daenys did not wish for her brother to accompany her, but Rhaenyra was adamant that she have a member of the family there to make sure she was not completely alone. Rhaenyra also added that it would help Jace’s claim to the throne more if he met and treated the lords of the Riverlands.

However, the trip to the Riverlands quickly became sour. On the third day there after settling in, the petitions began. She was only a few hours in, and Daenys had already grown frightfully bored by the endless men - young and very much old - that made their case. Lord of this castle or that holdfast, it did not matter. All the men started to blend into one, with a few that managed to stand out. She sat on a raised dias in the grand hall of Riverrun, with Lord Tully to her right and Jace to her left. Occasionally, after a particularly awkward or gross petition, Jace and Daenys would glance at one another in complete awe. Daenys had underestimated the audacity of some men and now she finally understood why Rhaenyra had so many wild stories of overzealous lords making their petitions to her. At first, her stories seemed too odd to be fully real, but now in Daenys’ own few hours of experience, there was no doubt left in her.

She leaned back and stifled a yawn as the old man in front of her droned on about his experience in some battle long ago. Lord Tully saw the princess's mood and leaned forward, “Thank you, Lord Ryger, for your attendance. It appears we shall end the petitions for the day and continue on the morrow.”

Daenys resisted letting out a sigh of relief, though the look on Jace’s face showed he was just as relieved as her. Many men in the hall said their proper goodbyes, bowing to them before exiting.

“Thank you, Lord Tully. It seems that I have many people to consider.” Daenys gave him a flattering smile, hoping that it could mask her previous displays of indifference.

“That is good,” Lord Tully stood up and bowed to both her and Jace, “I shall you both at the feast tonight.”

Once gone, Daenys sat up straighter in her seat and turned her torso towards her brother, “There’s to be a feast?”

“Of course there is.” Jace smiled at the exasperated look on his sister's face. Truly, the whole time he had been rather entertained. A little bored, but ultimately found humour in his sister's expressions throughout the morning of lords' petitions.

She leaned back in her seat and slid down slightly, sighing loudly. “A whole bloody feast.” Jace began to laugh, but Daenys would have none of it. “Don’t be too quick to humour, brother. All the lords who are already married are bound to have daughters, and as the future heir to the throne, I do believe they will flock to you like flies to shit.”

“Are you saying I am the shit in your comparison?” The smile on Jace’s face faded.

“You said it, Jace, not I.” She bounced to her feet and made her way towards the exit.

Jace called out as she left, “And where are you off to?”

“To Suneater,” Daenys responded while looking over her shoulder, “Lords cannot follow me into the sky.” She walked away to the sound of her brother's light chuckles. The dress she was wearing had begun to feel heavy on her, the weight of her mission to gain a good husband to aid in any possible future challenges to her mother seemed impossible. From the men she met so far… the outcome was looking bleak. There was one man who was closer to her age, yet every detail about him escaped her. Was it Aken… perhaps Barken… Breaker? The only detail worth noting about him was the garish yellow shade he wore, the rest was all exactly like every other man before.

Daenys had changed into her riding leathers and gleefully made her way through the halls and to the courtyard. Upon exiting the castle, she glanced around the yard full of many men who were talking and sparring. The bustling laughter continued, with some lords near her choosing to greet her. Daenys pushed off many wishing to start a conversation with the excuse of going to visit her dragon. At the mere mention of her companion, the lords backed off. They are too fearful at the thought of a dragon, why do they think they are fit to marry one?

Glancing around at the fighting people while proceeding through the courtyard, she looked at a group. They were sporting red and black, and a feeling of homesickness washed over her. House Targaryen colours were familiar to her, mixed with Velaryon colours of course - for her father. The hushed voices of her uncles echoed in her mind; Bastard.

Brushing that thought away, she decided to watch the group. The men dressed in those colours were sparring. A blond struggled against the blows from a dark-haired man, his lean and built form assailing with strength.

It seemed that whenever the blond one got the upper hand, it only lasted for a short time. Daenys slowed her walking as she passed. While she was many metres away, she could still hear the words of encouragement and jest by the other men around them - dressed in the same colours of black and red. The blond man was facing her, and upon seeing the Princess, got momentarily distracted. The dark-haired man moved quickly, knocking his opponent to the ground in one fell swoop of his legs. The blond crashed to the ground and let out a string of curses, his clothes muddied.

“Is the ground comfortable, Rickard?” The dark-haired man joked. The men around would have laughed, but their eyes moved to where the blond, Rickard, had his eyes. They all seemed frightened. Daenys could tell they were all around her age and most likely had never seen a member of the Royal family, given the fact that they were frozen on the spot. Rickard got up, albeit in a clumsy manner, and tilted his head down in a subtle bow with the rest of the men following.

The dark-haired man turned and his eyes met hers. She could not gauge their colour, as she was standing a good few feet away. The grip on his sword slacked. He seemed stunned and a faint red coated his face. Daenys could not tell if it was from his training or her presence. He nodded to her and she hummed gently before nodding back to him and the other men.

While Daenys was intrigued by those men, all she wanted was a reprieve from the men around her. She turned her body and continued on her previous course, oblivious to the stares that followed. On the other side of a hill - a fair distance from the gates of Riverrun - lay Suneater and Vermax. The two were beside one another, as their personalities blended. Occasionally, the two would clash much like her and Jace, but truly acted as siblings. Daenys felt the weight on her chest that accumulated throughout the day disappear. Finally, she could be free, even just for a while.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The hours had passed in mere moments. Daenys had begun her flight midday and had landed as the sun began to set, giving her just enough time to get to her chambers and have the maids prepare her for the feast. She was delighted that the courtyard was relatively empty, save for a few servants mulling about. No pesky conversations to derail her.

However, Daenys heard the sound of grunting and the beating of a sword. She turned to a corner of the yard to see the same dark-haired man still training. The others had left, but he lingered on. His back was to her, but she doubted he would even notice her if he was facing in her direction. He seemed completely enraptured in the swings of his sword, as if the world had disappeared and here he remained.

Daenys recognized this focus. She too felt that, albeit when riding her dragon. It was a feeling of belonging like there was nothing else meant for her to do. No more masking and pretending to feel like the people around her, just free to get lost in something she loved. The process of becoming a different person and getting lost in the way it makes you feel. She believed it must be a similar thing to the way he was fighting. She paused for a moment to study his form. Strong, but sly. With each stroke of the sword, images of the royal painters appeared in her mind. The art of their brush strokes mirrored that of the steel he swung. Calculated and precise, but free. Each time the steel met the straw dummy, it looked like paint hitting a canvas.

Daenys did not wish to disturb his focus, but the burning intrigue of who this man was had overpowered that wish, “I do believe he is dead.” The man stopped with a jump and swung his body around in quick succession, his eyes alert. It was only upon seeing Daenys and assessing her as no immediate threat that he let his guard down.

“Yes, princess, um… indeed.” His response made Daenys almost wish she did not disturb him. It was clear that he appeared slightly shy when not engrossed in combat. A part of her related to it.

“I apologize for my earlier interruption. It was not my intention to have distracted your friend.” Daenys stepped close and leaned against a fence that connected to the large stables. She was within just a metre or two of the man and could now finally see him more clearly. He was a pleasant sight, exceedingly so compared to the dozens of men she met that morning.

“You need not apologize, princess. It was his fault, he should have been focusing on the fight.”

“Well, I hope he is alright from the fall, Lord…” Daenys trailed off, hoping to know his name. She thought back to her morning in the hall and meeting all the lords who contended for her hand. She could not remember him. That could not be right, she would remember a man who looked like that. It seemed that he was not there in the morning, most likely to see her in the days to come.

“Benjicot Blackwood, your grace.” He nodded at her, his dark hair moved gently in the subtle breeze.

“It is nice meeting you, Lord Blackwood.” Daenys smiled at him. She felt unusual, to be taken by charm so quickly and with so few words. She searched within her brain for any knowledge regarding the family. It was an old house, with roots deep within Westeros spanning back to the first men. Kings during the Age of Heroes. She remembered reading about their ability to field an army larger than that of House Tully, yet still bent the knee to them.

“You flatter me, princess, but I am not Lord Blackwood yet. My father still presides over Raventree Hall.” Benjicot’s voice was calm, despite his appearance coming off as slightly nervous.

“I am sorry, Lord Benjicot, for the misunderstanding.”

Ben broke eye contact and gazed around the courtyard for a moment before returning to her, “We seem to be apologizing repeatedly to one another, your grace.”

“Yes, let us end that,” Daenys situated herself to sit on the fence, a rather unladylike action. She found that she could get away with that type of behaviour the further she was from the court of Kings Landing and Dragonstone. “What brings a member of House Blackwood to Riverrun at this time?”

“Well, the crown princess happens to be visiting,” Ben answered.

“I heard she is spoilt and vain.” Daenys joked.

Ben seemed to loosen up just slightly at her friendliness, “She is not so bad. Rather pleasant if you ask me.” The two stare at one another for a few moments, wondering which one would break the jest first. In a display of synchrony, they both smiled and let out a short burst of laughter.

Daenys spoke after calming down, “So I am just pleasant, my lord?”

“Yes, your grace, incredibly so.” Ben’s words sounded more sincere than expected and it caught Daenys slightly off guard.

“You are not so bad, as well, Lord Benjicot. Incredibly so.” Daenys jumped down from the fence and brushed off her hands that were resting along the wood. “I hope you are not absent from the feast tonight as you were this morning. I should like to speak to you more, my lord.”

“I will be there princess.”

The two both nodded to one another before Daenys began to walk away. As she retreated, she could not help but feel a little less stressed about the feast. Maybe the idea of being surrounded by boisterous lords, many eager to dance with her, would not be so bad if Benjicot Blackwood was there.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The band was in full swing. The echoes of their instruments, playing a quick jig, bounced off the vaulted walls of the great hall. People sat at multiple long tables and ate from the vast amounts of plated food. There were others out of their seats, conversing with groups or dancing in the centre of the room. Lord Tully was at the centre of a table position in front of all the others. The Velaryon twins sat on either side of him. Jacaerys and Lord Tully were engaged in deep conversation on a topic Daenys had little care for. She stared at her plate of food. No matter how hard she tried, Daenys could not will herself to eat. The nerves of this night and having countless men stare at her made her stomach ache and turn.

A figure stood up at the table, bowing to all three of them. He was adorned in brown and a muted yellow colour, with the sigil of a red stallion on his chest. While Daenys did think it ugly, she could not say the same for his appearance. He had a slender figure, and his facial structure was pretty for a man. His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, most of it pulled into a tie at the back with some loose strands.

“Lord Tully, Prince Jacaerys, Princess Daenys,” He started, “It would be an honour to ask the princess if she should like to dance.”

“I believe my sister would love to join you,” Jace answered.

Daenys kept her head facing the man while her eyes turned to the side. Jacaerys was looking at her, an amused smile on his face. She focused back on the man and put on a pleasant smile, “It would be my pleasure.” She slowly got out of her chair, hoping for some miracle to prevent their dance. A fire set in the hall, or perhaps the gods could shake the earth and swallow her whole.

When the man took hold of her arm to escort her, Daenys turned around and mouthed to her brother: traitor. Jace just waved slightly and picked up a mug of ale. The two made their way to the dance floor and joined many others. Her hands clasped hers as they faced one another and began moving. Daenys had to concentrate on her footwork, as her dancing skills were never the greatest.

“Aeron Bracken, your grace. I am sure you remember me from this morning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget such a memorable petition… with ah… great accomplishments.” Daenys gave him a fake smile. She hoped that response would satisfy Aeron, as she truthfully had no memory of what his petition was. The words he had said sounded the same as all the rest, so despite not remembering, she could guess that they revolved around their accomplishments and house.

“It gladens me that you have been thinking about me, your grace.”

Daenys almost scoffed. Where did she ever mention thinking about him? Why would she think of him of all men? There was a brief flash of red and black in her vision, accompanied by a blur of dark hair. Swallowing her frustration down, she continued her womanly facade.

“Yes, House Bracken is wonderful in their abilities and longstanding position in history.” The few things she knew about the house were their origins with the first men, and their proclivity to engage in petty disputes with other houses. She thought it best to not bring up the latter information. However, it did not seem that she would not have to bring it up as Aeron began to rant.

“There are some houses here that are not as fortunate or kind as mine. Some that are no good to be around, your grace.” Aeron’s face darkened slightly as his vision zeroed in on a group across the hall. Daenys turned and strained her eyes, for she was not as tall as him. Upon seeing through the crowd who he was looking at, her brows furrowed. Benjicot Blackwood stood conversing with a group of men at one of the tables.

Aeron looked away and back at the princess, “I caution you with keeping the company of Blackwoods. They can be savage and cruel.”

A flood of information swooped over her mind. A week prior to leaving for the Riverlands, she had tirelessly scanned through books on their history. She suddenly realized why both of the Houses sounded familiar. Out of the countless battles she read about, House Blackwood and Bracken were frequently are the forefront and more often than not the ones that started those conflicts.

Daenys felt an odd urge to defend Benjicot, “You do not think I did my research before coming here, Lord Aeron?”

“No, princess, that was not my intention,” He seemed to stumble over his words and his face flushed, “I just wish to protect you.”

“I do not need your protection, my lord. I do believe having a dragon does that for me.” Daenys was thankful that the song was coming to a close. They separated and both bowed to one another like all the other partners on the floor. “Your baseless attempt at character assassination is just that, baseless. Thank you for the dance, Lord Aeron, but I think I will take my company elsewhere.”

Daenys gave him one last nod and walked away. She wanted to get away from Aeron quickly. She walked in the direction of Ben and his company of men, but an old lord stepped out in front of her just as she made it to him. The lord was old and greying, his wrinkled skin sagged against his stern face. Daenys never gagged at the sight of a person before, but she found herself almost doing so.

“Princess Daenys, would you care for a dance?” His shrewd voice shattered her temporary relief.

“Oh Lord–” She began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Lord Mooton,” Benjicot had spotted her approaching and saw the lord moving her way and quickly lept to action, “It is good to see you. I believe it was your great grandson's twentieth nameday celebration that we last saw on another. I have heard that your wife was looking for you.” Ben had his shoulders squared and towered over the old man's form. Daenys and Ben exchanged looks, resisting the urge to laugh in the lord's face at this awkward exchange.

“Oh, yes, Lord Benjicot. Apologies princess, for I must go.” The man bowed and moved away, his old form moving slowly.

“I owe you, Lord Benjicot, for saving me.” Daenys smiled at him. Her arms joined behind her back as she swayed side to side.

“You need not thank me, your grace. Though, I would appreciate it if you would do me the favour of joining me on the floor?” Ben held out his hand. While he seemed confident, Daenys could tell there was still a shy nature being hidden - it was clear in his eyes. The hand that was outstretched shook so slightly it was hard to catch, but she did. Just a few minutes ago she wanted nothing more than to stop dancing, but in this case, she did not mind it. She had just found the right partner.

Daenys took his hand in hers and the shaking ceased, “I shall.” Ben escorted her to the floor and they began to dance. She was even more nervous, as her lack of talent in dance may embarrass her in front of him. Ben did not seem to mind for he guided her gently before she could make any mistakes.

“You should have seen the look on your face when Lord Mooton spoke to you. Pure befuddlement, your grace, possible disgust as well.” Ben quickly turned her to the pace of the music.

“Do not jest of that, my lord. I felt like I would die.” Daenys retorted.

“You would die? I think it would be Lord Mooton that goes first, considering his age.”

Daenys let out a short laugh, “I do not know what I would have done if I had to suffer a dance with him.” She almost shivered at the thought of that lord's eyes scanning her body in such a predatory way.

“Do not worry about it, your grace. All it would take is a stiff breeze to knock him over and it would no longer be your problem. Perhaps I could jump out of nowhere and startle him to death for you?” The dance had Ben pulling her closer with both of their hands connected.

“I did not take you as a man quick to murder.”

“Ah, but for you, dear princess, I would not hesitate.” Ben’s words sounded incredibly sincere and he made sure to be looking right at her when he said them.

“You flatter me, my lord,” Daenys said, “I wanted to mention it earlier, but I must compliment your skills in fighting. Watching you train was engaging.”

Ben spun them around and kept pace with those around them, “I shall hold those words with me for life, your grace.”

“I also wished to ask if we could spar together.” Daenys raised her brow at him, hoping that he would like the same as well.

“I can not even think about attacking you, princess. It would be improper.”

Daenys knew he would not relent so easily, “I have been learning for a few years now, you need not worry about it.”

One of Ben’s hands reached down to her waist as they had to start walking to the right in a circle with others dancing. “Princess, the moment I even go in to swing at you, regardless of practicing, every lord in the castle would hunt me down.”

“Then we shall make sure nobody sees. After the morning petitions on the morrow, we can meet up outside the gates and find a clearing somewhere.” Daenys tried to distract herself from the way his hand felt on her waist.

“After you have been driven to frustration by all the lords? I should be worried you may take that anger out on me.” Ben spun her around again. The two of them released their grip on one another, stepping back a few paces and turning before finally coming back together again.

“With the skills I saw today, I do believe you can handle it,” Daenys said.

“I can handle that and more, princess,” Ben responded and his grip on her hand and waist tightened slightly. Daenys blushed heavily and hoped that it would not be too noticeable. She paused momentarily to figure out how to retort, but no words came to her. They settled into silence for a moment. The music died down and the dance came to a close. Daenys and Ben released their hold on each other and took a step back.

“Thank you for the dance, Lord Benjicot. You need not worry about attending the petitions tomorrow and putting forth your name. I do not need to hear your case as I already favour your company.” Daenys tried to say what she wanted to say without making it too obvious or breaking any rules of propriety. It would be unseemly for a woman to actively pursue someone, but that would not stop her from voicing her opinion.

“I favour your company as well, princess,” Ben responded, though he seemed slightly stunned. Daenys smiled at him and went back to the main dining table.

Lord Tully had left, most likely off speaking to some guests, but Jace still sat at the table. He was nursing a mug of ale in his hand and sent her a large grin.

“What have you done now, dear brother?”

“Nothing, sister, however, I must admit I did not take you as one who liked to dance.”

Daenys sat down in the seat beside him. She reached out for some of the ale and swallowed it down. “I don’t like dancing.”

“Then why did you spend five dances with the same man?” Jace asked. He gave off a tone of innocence to his question, but she could sense the subtle tease.

She paused for a moment to load some food on a plate. It was five dances? She could have sworn it was only for a minute or two. Deciding not to voice that, she continued. “Why did you care to count?”

“Because you are my sister and it is my job to watch out for you. Tell me, who is he?”

Daenys was almost reluctant to answer but knew Jace would continue to pry until he got one. “Benjicot Blackwood.”

“...So?” Jace placed his ale down and showed her his full attention.

“Pardon?”

“What do you think of him? You seem quite taken.” Jace nudged her shoulder gently.

“We met earlier in the day. He seems nice and is easy to converse with. However, the manner of me being taken by him is none of your concern.”

Jace leaned back in his seat and laughed, “Ah, okay. So it is not my concern that this whole time we have been talking, Lord Benjicot has not stopped looking at you.”

Daenys froze. Jace held his gaze to her side, where other people were, and must have been looking at Ben. She knew he was there. Now that she was told, she could practically feel Ben’s gaze on the side of her face. She felt herself getting flushed again. That whole night, she felt like she was on the verge of a meltdown with all of the lords looking at her. Their greedy gazes wished to have her solely to claim her blood for their children. Yet, Daenys could not help but crave the gaze of that dark-haired man. She shook her head gently and stood up abruptly.

“I have become tired, Jace. I shall retire for the night.” Daenys did not wait for her brother's response before she scrambled to get out of the hall. Her feet carried her swiftly out of the large doors and down the stone hallway. She picked up her pace once away from the prying eyes of people. Her hands gripped the skirt of her dress, the palms clammed up.

Upon reaching her guest chamber, Daenys threw the door open before shutting it quickly. Her chest rose up and down with each breath and the bodice felt tighter than it was just minutes ago. Her actions of the day quickly came flooding back at her. This was not supposed to happen. This was never part of the plan.

Daenys somehow felt like she had failed her mother. She came to the Riverlands to find a strategic match, not find herself relishing in the company of some man. She was no believer. The princess knew from a young age that any sort of marriage was to be one of convenience, one arranged. She felt better having some bit of freedom in choice, but that choice was still dictated by what would be best for securing her mother’s throne if it were to come to war.

Now, she found herself waiting with bated breath for her sparring session with Ben. As if counting the minutes would make the time go by faster. Logically, House Blackwood would be a great house to align with. They can handle more soldiers than the Tullys despite the Tullys being liege lords of the Riverlands. There is an extensive history of military triumph and a fair amount of wealth - not just monetarily - connected to Raventree Hall. It would be completely fine to connect their two houses, yet her budding feelings for Ben made her feel as though that decision was biased.

Mother would know what to do. She always does.

Daenys sat on the end of her bed, gazing out of the opened shutters of a window and staring into the night. The stars looked beautiful, but she missed the familiar sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores of Dragonstone. Homesickness washed over her. She went to the desk in a corner of the room and retired some parchment. The inkwell was full and a quill lay next to it. If there was one person she could vent to and get advice, it would be her mother.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The next day, Daenys found herself in the same spot she was in the previous day. In the great hall, with Lord Tully and Jace, watching as dozens of men spoke about themselves. How great their houses are, how great they are, and how extensive their coffers are. Except today felt different than previously. She was more impatient. All she focused on was her meeting with Ben later. The ability to speak to him more freely outside of the prying watch of others.

To be caught would be scandalous, however, that thought made it more thrilling.

Once Lord Tully concluded the gathering, Daenys quickly left her chair. She did not run, as it would be unladylike, but she moved as fast as was socially accepted. She went back to her room to dress in the proper attire and retrieve her sword. Once finished, Daenys opened her door and crashed into someone's chest. Jacaerys stood there, barely having been knocked by her slamming into him.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Danys adjusted her clothing, “Out to train.”

“Alone?” Jace raised his brow. Although he asked the question, it was as if he already knew the answer.

“Must I even entertain such a question?” Daaenys sighed.

“Don’t do anything Mother would not approve,” Jace told her. Daenys resisted the urge to laugh. While Rhaenyra did not speak to her sons about her youth, she spoke to Daenys about it. The stories of her sneaking away with Daemon and later her trysts with Sir Harwin were mentioned in hushed voices over tea times. Gossiping together was one of Daenys’ favourite pastimes.

“Of course, Jace. I will be as pious as Mother.” Daenys answered before moving down the hallway. She was almost skipping with joy at the prospect of spending the rest of the day with Ben.

Outside the gates of Riverrun, Ben was leaning against a tree as he waited for her. When she came in sight, she sent him a smile and a slight wave. He got off the tree and walked to her as well. Once close, they began moving in the direction of the dense forest.

“Are you well rested, your grace? You left the feast early last night.”

She paused before responding. “If I am entirely honest, I miss my home. I left to write a letter to my mother.” She did not feel it necessary to touch on the fact that the very nature of that letter was primarily centred around him.

“I am sorry to hear that princess. The Riverlands can be overwhelming for those not born here.” Ben paused to step over a high fallen tree trunk. On the other side, he offered his hand to her.

“I did not mean it as a slight. I’ve found myself to be quite fond of these lands, my lord. It's beautiful here, truly.” Daenys tried not to think about how warm his hand was in hers. How the callouses were strangely comforting despite their roughness. She gently stepped on and over the trunk before coming back down. Her arm went down to her side, but their hands were still joined. She cleared her throat gently and Ben dropped her hand, coming back from wherever his mind wandered. They continued on their way under the canopy of trees.

“Can I ask you something?” Daenys questioned.

“Anything, your grace.”

“Must we exhaust our title in conversation with one another? It would be much better, and easier if I may add, if you just called me Daenys.”

Ben remained silent for a moment, his vision focused on the ground below him to not trip over a root. “That would not be appropriate, princess.”

“At the very least, we can do so when we are alone?” Daenys awaited his answer.

“Then just call me Ben or Benji. Benjicot can be a mouthful.”

Daenys giggled, “Sounds good, Ben.”

They both exchanged quick looks and then focused their attention back on where they were going. After walking for a while, they hit a small clearing. The grass was low and there were no objects around that they could trip on.

“How much do you know of sparring, Daenys?” Hearing her name come from his voice had her dazed for a moment. It sounded good.

Deciding to deceive him for a moment, she responded. “Only a little bit. Some basic offensive and defensive moves.”

“Then we shall have a round to see where you are at. We will start with the wooden swords.”

With his words, they moved into starting positions. Ben lunged first and his strike was blocked. She moved around him, turning quickly and striking him. He too managed to block it, but before he could make another move, Daenys swung again and hit his bicep. It was quick and unexpected, revealing that she may know more than what she stated. He was shocked for a moment and caught off guard. Ben smiled. He was excited by her quick thinking ability.

“Were you telling the truth?”

“Not quite, but the look on your face was worth it.” Daenys adjusted her stance, with the wooden sword still in her grip.

“Who taught you? Many men seem reluctant to teach women these sorts of things.”

“I begged for years. I was told it was not ladylike and surely not something a potential husband would accept in a wife. But, many months after my mother married my stepfather, I decided to ask one more time. I was ten and three when I did. I marched right up to Daemon and asked him. It felt inevitable that he would deny my request, but he just laughed and told me to be ready on the morrow in the sparring yard. I joined my brothers in their training.”

Daenys remembered that day vividly. She was scared out of her wits. Until then, she never really bonded much with Daemon and was terrified by his reputation. She had clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to hide their shaking. Her small frame, made even smaller in his presence, stood tall. Years later, Daenys would be confident in saying that her relationship with her stepfather was solid.

“As in Prince Daemon?” Ben was bewildered, “Like the Rogue Prince?”

“Yes, him.”

Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I doubt you could learn anything from me then.”

“Are you the one of those men who are ‘reluctant to teach women these sorts of things’?” Daenys used his words against him.

“There are many things I could teach you.” Daenys pretended not to catch on to the other meaning of his words. She did not even know if that was intended by him.

The two resumed their stances before going back to fighting. It was amazing how quickly time flew afterwards. Their bodies moved together in tandem. One moved forward, the other moved back. They bumped into one another multiple times. Daenys struggled to keep her beating heart under control when they would brush. It was occasionally hard to focus, as Ben looked increasingly better when he was in his element. She also pretended to not see the somewhat longing gaze he would send her way occasionally.

During a moment when he was particularly distracted, she used it to her advantage. She swung forward, moving her wooden sword in a circle and disarming him. The move caused her body to be closer to him, and his reflexive move grabbed onto her wrist holding her sword and pulled her close in a grip hold.

They were exhausted from the hours of movement. Daenys chest moved up and down at a rapid rate. The fog from their breaths intertwined in the air as their faces got close. Her free hand had somehow landed on his chest. There was no denying the lean muscle under his tunic and vest.

“I thought you did not like it when people got easily distracted?” Daenys teased him.

“Well, it is hard not to with you here,” Ben responded. His eyes stared into hers, an intensity hidden in them.

Daenys could not for the sake of her life find a response. It was bold, his compliment. It would not be considered appropriate had they been anywhere else, but they were alone. The realization of that struck her. They were completely alone. Ben leaned in slightly but stopped. Due to their height difference, his nose brushed the top of her cheek. His breath was haggard.

“Please tell me if I have misinterpreted any of your advances. Tell me and I swear I will leave you alone. I will go back to Raventree Hall and give you peace.” He voiced in a low whisper.

Ben began to pull away, but Daenys used her free hand resting on his chest to grip the fabric and hold him in place.

“Don't go,” She began, “You have not misinterpreted me.”

“I will not do anything without your permission, my princess.” Daenys did not wish to correct him on addressing her by her title, for the use of the word ‘my’ before it lit something in her chest. He leaned back to where he previously was, his breath fanning her face. She nodded to him before leaning in and connecting their lips.

It felt feverish, the unbridled heat that surged through her. She had the blood of the dragon, yes, but this was something else entirely. The wooden sword in her other hand, which was held at the wrist by his, dropped to the ground. He moved his hands, one going to her waist to pull her close and the other settling on the small of her back. His lips were chapped but felt soft nonetheless. His nose pressed into her cheek as he deepened the kiss. They both were unskilled in it, and they were slightly out of sink, but the passion was there. Daenys hands moved to his face, cupping it. Her thumbs brushed over his high cheekbones. The kiss gave her more warmth from the mild frigid weather around than any coat she could wear. There was a safety to it, an assurance of protection.

For a brief moment in this foreign piece of land, Daenys felt at home.

They pulled away, but only slightly so. Their noses still touched and she was grateful to feel any part of him. His hands squeezed gently, giving her some positive affirmation.

“You are better at this than your swordsmanship.” Daenys joked.

“You speak as if you have experience, Dany.” Her heart stopped for a moment at his nickname.

She breathed in and out slowly, “You’re the first.” Ben nodded at her words, a breathless smile sweeping across his face.

“For me as well.” They both were stuck in an embrace, eyes staring back at one another.

“I…” Daenys paused to gain courage, “I would not mind if we could do that again.” She felt terribly shy by her request, and images of her younger self being rejected whenever she asked to learn how to fight flashed in her mind. Ben leaned forward and rested his forehead against her. An amused groan left his lips.

“You will be the death of me, my princess.” He leaned forward and kissed her again.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys sat in her bedchamber with a parchment scroll gripped in her hands. It had been a few days since she sent her letter to her mother and she had finally received a response. The petitions only lasted two days, with the rest being spent mingling among the lords during the day and feasts at night. It was the early hours of the morning and she had just finished bathing. She lounged in her room in a robe and ate from a platter of meats and cheeses to break her fast.

The letter she had sent her mother had been filled with her worries. How she had met many lords of the Riverlands and some that may be of help. Largely, the contents centred around her blooming companionship with Benjicot Blackwood. Daenys revealed her troubles about feeling that she would be failing if she found herself attached unnecessarily. She felt that her judgement had been compromised by her affinity to Benjicot’s company. She may be overlooking another house that may be better for them come the outbreak of war.

Rhaenyra’s response was just what she needed. Despite her mother not physically being there, her words soothed Daenys. The heir assured her that House Blackwood would be a good fit, not just strategically but for her happiness as well. She kept reading a section of the response over and over.

I was never fully happy with your plan. Sending my only daughter off to pick an arrangement that would surely make her miserable. I of all people can relate. Let yourself feel, ñuha prūmia. You are allowed happiness, so pursue it. Many women of the realm would give anything to be in your position. Do not waste it for me and my troubles.

Daenys sighed. It was the confirmation she had been waiting for. Over the last few days, she had slipped away from Riverrun and joined Benjicot in the woods to spar. Though, more often than not, the sparing would be accompanied by fleeting touches and fevered kisses. Despite the dropping of formalities, he still treated her as his princess. Which, if Daenys was honest, was not a bad thing.

All the time spent with him, the voice in the back of her head had filled her with worries about failing her mother. Now, with confirmation that her choice was not wrong, Daenys felt the urge to rise from her chair and keep running until she found him. Jump in his arms perhaps. But that would not be appropriate and she cursed the realm for their stupid rules.

Daenys got up and changed into her gown for the day. She had dismissed the maids earlier, wishing to have some semblance of peace. When she was situated in her attire and sat at her vanity to style her hair, a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in!” Daenys called out gently as her fingers moved to meticulously form a braid.

Jace walked in. His hand rested on the sword at his hip as he sauntered over to her vanity. “Good morrow, sister.”

“Good morrow to you,” Daenys pinned up the finished braid and moved to work on another, “What brings you to my chambers this morning? Normally you would be out hunting with one of the lords.”

“While that is true, I did just have to most interesting conversation while I broke fast,” Jace paused, “With Benjicot Blackwood.”

Her fingers halted their movement and she looked at him through the large mirror positioned in front of her. Jace was smiling, but it was not the usual smirk as a warning of him teasing her. It looked genuine. She tilted her head in curiosity.

“And, pray tell, what were you two meeting for?” Daenys feigned a casual attitude. She did not want to reveal her nerves.

“He invited me to break fast together. It would be rude of me to deny him.” Jace answered.

Daenys pinned another braid up, “You did not answer my question, brother.”

“I believe it is Ben’s right to share.”

She finished her hair and turned in her seat to face her brother. She narrowed her eyes at him. Why did Jace address him so informally? Her hands rested on the seat and she resisted the urge to grip them tightly. Daenys was confused and she did not like it one bit. She relaxed her shoulders and maintained a pleasant resting face.

“I did not know you two were so close.”

Jace was picking up and inspecting the bottles of oils and serums on her table, displaying a sense of casualty. “Oh yes, one may say we could be brothers.”

“Enough, Jacaerys. Tell me now.”

Her brother set a glass vial down and backed away. He continued to smile while going to her door. “I will be out riding for the morning. Have a good day, sister.” Jace then opened the door and left Daenys to sit and mull over their conversation.

“Bloody halfwit.” Daenys huffed.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The princess found herself strolling through the halls of Riverrun. There were no particular activities she planned for the day, so her mind was distracted. It was near an alcove that a hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. She was pulled in with another hand covering her mouth. Her shout of surprise was muffled. Daenys found herself in a secluded area with her back against the stone. There was a tiny window giving the area a hint of morning glow.

Fear flooded her veins and she cursed herself for leaving any means of a weapon in her room. She brought her leg up to knee the assailant in the crouch. A shout of pain came from the figure, a voice so familiar. When the man crouched over the ease the pain, the streaks of light from the window illuminated his face.

“Ben! Oh, I am so sorry.”

Daenys moved to hold his shoulders but he just held up his arms while still in visible pain, “No, Dany, this was my doing. Not the wisest decision to sneak up on you like this.” Benjicot was doing everything to show he was not in pain, but failing. He breathed in deeply.

“Great strength and good form, my princess.” Ben tried to laugh it off, but his chest still heaved.

“Dearest, what in the seven hells was that?” Daenys crossed her arms.

“Oh, if I knew what it would take to be called such a sweet nickname by you, Dany, then I would have injured myself sooner.” Ben beamed at her. He managed to get over the pain quickly and stood straight. His arms moved to wrap around her waist and pull her from the wall towards his chest.

Daenys arms rested on his shoulders. “What if I had my knife on me?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have been stabbed,” Ben responded.

“It is not funny. I could have seriously hurt you.” Daenys felt his thumbs making circles as he held her hips.

Ben kissed the crown of her head, “I have no doubt you would have done serious damage, my princess.”

They stood in their embrace in the dimly lit alcove. It seemed as though the only time they could spend together was during fleeting moments of isolation. Despite the worry of being caught, Daenys would not wish it to be any different.

“My brother visited me this morning.” She began speaking, “Jace informed me of your shared meal.”

Ben’s face dropped. Nervousness etched its way across it. “He told you what we spoke about?”

“No,” Daenys answered. His unease cleared at her confirmation, “It was rather aggravating, what little information he gave. Is it something I should be worried about?”

“Nothing to worry about, Dany.” One of his hands lifted to cup her face. He moved his thumb up and down her cheek.

“Can I be privy to it? Or is it some man thing?” Her hands, which were resting on his shoulders, moved lower to settle on his chest.

“No. I planned on making a show of this, but truly I cannot wait any further.”

Daenys tilted her head, “And what can’t you wait for?”

“Well, I went to ask your brother first, as I am a gentleman who does not wish to compromise you and-” Ben began, but was swiftly cut off by Daenys.

“You? A gentleman? You may not have compromised my maidenhood, but that thing you did with your tong-”

“My love, please, I cannot be distracted by such a memory.” Ben closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to calm down. “I wished to ask your brother for permission to court you.”

Daenys waited with bated breath. “And my brother?”

“He is a very agreeable man. He acquiesced but noted that ultimately, the decision remains with you.” Ben tightened his hold on her.

She smiled widely, “I believe you already know my answer.”

The two broke into laughter before quickly leaning in to kiss. They pushed against one another. Desperation, earnestness, and care poured out of them. Most of all, pure relief. Daenys shivered at the intimacy of his hold on her. One of Ben’s hands cradled the back of her head as he pushed them back to the wall, cushioning her from the jagged stone. A groan slipped from his mouth as Daenys opened hers. The kiss was possessive, and his grip tightened. The hold on her waist warmed, and his fingers threaded through her hair.

“You are so beautiful.” Ben voiced between kisses before moving back to devour her again. His lips trailed from her mouth, across her cheek and to her neck. He stopped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Daenys sighed at the contact, heat flaming through her body.

“Ben, someone may come.”

“Damn them. I do not care.” He seemed intent on kissing her, with his mouth moving to her collarbone.

“I would rather not have my honour questioned, my love.”

He paused and lifted his head to look at her. His eyes held an intensity she had scarcely seen from him before, “Say the word and any man who questions you will be dead.”

“As much as your words are comforting, I could not put you in such a position,” Daenys gave him a chaste kiss, “I am just happy my brother gave his approval.”

“If you were only there. He did try his best to be intimidating.” Ben said.

“Jace was never good at threatening people. Were you scared?” She joked.

“I feigned some bit of fear,” He began, “I find men to be more pliable when they feel better about themselves.” Ben stood proud of himself. He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his mouth to lay small kisses on her knuckles.

“So you manipulated my bother?”

“I would not call it that. Moreso gentle encouragement to achieve the answer I so desired.” Ben skirted her question and began to rock them gently side to side, “But even if he did manage to scare me, no amount of fear would stop me.”

Daenys pulled back from his embrace, “No amount of fear would stop you?”

Ben paused his movements and looked her in the eyes, “I don’t like that look on your face, my dear. You’re up to something.”

“Well, since you wish to court me, there is one such condition from me.” Daenys tried to ease his piqued curiosity. Ben awaited her explanation. “Meet Suneater.”

His face fell immediately. His eyes darkened and the muscles in his body tightened. Daenys saw his reaction and worked to soothe him by grabbing his hands and rubbing them.

His voice came out strained, “You want me to meet your dragon?”

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys giggled as she led Ben through the muddy pathway outside of Riverrun. Her dragon and Vermax were perched outside the castle, as it was not a large enough estate to hold the both of them. She held his hand clasped in hers as the two made their way to the sleeping dragon. They came across a clearing that was surrounded by a low stone wall. Jace had taken Vermax for a flight, so Suneater was alone. She lay curled and sleeping peacefully. Her strong breath came out of her nose.

Suneater had dark grey scales. However, upon closer inspection, there were subtle gold flakes throughout her body, intensifying at the base of the scales before being covered by the black of a next one layered above. Daenys had never known a bond such as the one she held with her dragon. Her closeness to her family was strong- especially Jace since they were twins. But her dragon was entirely something else.

Now that Benjicot wished to be with her, he must know all of her. Suneater was the other part of her soul. Despite hatching in her cradle and being of the same age, Daenys view her as a daughter.

Daenys let go of Ben’s hand and walked to her dragon, “Sȳz ñāqes, Suneater.” Good morrow. Suneater’s eyes blinked open and her head lifted to see her rider approaching. Ben had stopped walking and stood by the entrance, unsure of whether or not he should get closer. “Hilago, sagon sȳz. Nyke hae bisa vala.” Please, be good. I like this man.

She reached out to scratch Suneater’s chin. The dragon let out a near purring sound at the contact and closed her eyes. Daenys continued her movements and turned to Ben.

“Come here. She won’t hurt you.” Upon seeing Ben still standing, Daenys continued. “I swear she will not do anything. You have my word.”

After that, Ben moved towards her. His steps were slow and calculated as he wadded through the low grass. Once he was about a metre near her, Suneater’s eyes snapped open to stare him down. A puff of air left her nostrils and Ben seized his movements to a halt.

“Gīda. Rȳbagon.” Calm. Listen. Daenys assured her. Suneater calmed down but kept her eyes on Ben. He was an unknown man who stood too close to her rider. Daenys used her other hand to grab Ben and pull him closer. Once he was beside her, she spoke up, “You can touch her.”

Ben swerved his head and gave her a look muddled with alarm and uncertainty. He breathed in and out slowly to stay calm next to such an intimidating beast.

“Touch her?” His voice dripped with fear.

“Calm down, Ben, its not like I am asking you to fly with me.” He seemed to ease at her words, “Not yet, at least.”

Ben sputtered but went completely silent when Daenys grabbed his hand and placed it on the dragon's side. Her hand, in its small size, barely covered his. Ben felt the scales and the subtle breathing of the beast. His fear swept away and was replaced with awe. As a boy, he had heard of many older men around him who had seen dragons, but never himself had he ever seen one. The stories in his books growing up were filled with him, the history books even more so when covering events after the Conquest. In all his dreams, never did he think he would be standing so close to one and touching it.

“See, it is not so bad.” Daenys laughed gently. She grabbed his shoulder and rubbed it gently.

“Yes. It is not so bad.” Ben was still breathless.

He removed his hand after a while and, with a surge of confidence, leaned down to kiss Daenys. It was a calm one, not as heated and passionate as the others. His strong arms pulled her against his chest. Daenys melted in his hold and kissed him back. She did not believe she could ever tire from kissing him. Her heart swelled.

For the first time in many years, Daenys prioritized her own happiness.

Ben pulled back and looked her in the eyes, “You are a wonder.” Their foreheads connected. The two closed their eyes and relished the sounds of nature around them. The steady breeze brushed the branches of trees and the crows spoke as they flew around. The rumbling of breath from Suneater produced a steady beat to focus on.

The lovers stood in that field, each far from their homes - one more so than the other - and felt nothing but a sense of belonging.

A budding love became solidified in their bond that day. Each mirrored the other. Their gentle demeanours were undercut by their cunning in the ways of fighting. Both a ticking bomb of violence, who would gladly follow the other into any battle.

_______________

✧.* endnote: apologies for any typos or terrible grammar. i did come up with a couple more ideas centred around these two, so if it is wanted i could write (much shorter) pieces about these two. thank you all for the support that has been given. i appreciate it more than you know <3

#benjicot blackwood #bloody ben #house blackwood #house bracken #benjicot blackwood fanfic #benjicot blackwood imagine #hotd fanfiction #hotd imagine #ben blackwood #benjicot blackwood x oc #house targaryen #house velaryon #fire and blood #house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood fanfiction #asoiaf imagine

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evilkitten3 · 1 year ago

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you have. no idea how hard it was for me to find this....

anyway, i'm just gonna do the relevant panel, but i can come back and translate the others as well if anyone wants.

shikamaru: (thinking) but that guy, huh... i thought he was an amazing guy for someone in the same year as me and i respected him

so that's all interesting but i think there's a couple things worth noting. first, shikamaru appears to be talking about sasuke's capability as a ninja and acknowledging his strength and talent, not saying he likes sasuke's personality

what i find much more entertaining is what he says after that, which is translated into english here as "i always looked up to him" and by me as "i respected him". that's what makes sense as a translation but it's not actually what he's saying.

what he says, 一目置いてた (ichimoku oiteta), is an acknowledgement of superiority, typically from the weaker player in a game of go who's being allowed to place an extra stone as a handicap. so basically shikamaru is a huge nerd

i feel like a lot of dudebro fans project so hard onto shikamaru that now the entire fandom thinks shikamaru himself always distrusted and resented sasuke when that was,,,, clearly not the case lol

#naruto #i don't know that much about go tbh #but i understand it more than i understand half the phrases i've seen for certain other games #translation #japanese #so to answer the prev tags: yes and no #there's no such thing as a fully accurate translation #bc language at it's simplest is a hot mess #you kinda just have to do your best to convey what you can #and with manga there's always gonna be something you miss bc there's stuff the author hasn't released yet #like. with fullmetal alchemist for example #the very end of the story involved ed's state alchemist name ''hagane no renkinjutsushi'' or ''alchemist of steel''#which became ed talking about having a ''heart of steel''#but by then the english version had already been calling him the ''fullmetal alchemist''#which is why we ended up getting ''a heart made fullmetal'' instead #there was no way for the translators to predict that so they could only roll with it #basically if you ever have to ask ''is this translation correct'' the answer is almost certainly no #and there's an exhausted translator crying about it somewhere #but there's only so much room for footnotes in manga

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pratchettquotes · 6 months ago

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There'll come a time when it'll all be clear, Sweeper had said. A perfect moment.

The occupants of these graves had died for something. In the sunset glow, in the rising of the moon, in the taste of the cigar, in the warmth that comes from sheer exhaustion, Vimes saw it.

History finds a way. The nature of events changed, but the nature of the dead had not. It had been a mean, shameful little fight that ended them, a flyspecked footnote of history, but they hadn't been mean or shameful men. They hadn't run, and they could have run with honor. They'd stayed, and he wondered if the path had seemed as clear to them as it did to him now. They'd stayed not because they wanted to be heroes, but because they chose to think of it as their job, and it was in front of them--

"I'll be off then, sir," said Reg, shouldering his shovel. He seemed a long way away. "Sir?"

"Yeah, right. Right, Reg. Thank you," mumbled Vimes, and in the pink glow of the moment watched the corporal march down the darkening path and out into the city.

John Keel, Billy Wiglet, Horace Nancyball, Dai Dickins, Cecil "Snouty" Clapman, Ned Coates, and, technically, Reg Shoe. Probably there were no more than twenty people in the city now who knew all the names, because there were no statues, no monuments, nothing written down anywhere. You had to have been there.

He felt privileged to have been there twice.

Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

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scarletssienna · 9 months ago

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Beggin' for Footnotes

Summary - Some things aren’t meant to last forever. And despite you and Wanda loving each other you’re not sure if it’s going to work out anymore. 4.0k word count

Warnings - Hurt (not much comfort), heavy angst, swearing, mommy Wanda, oral, fingering, face slapping, sub!reader, degradation, praise, begging, dom/sub dynamics, aftercare, hair pulling, mean Wanda, edging, face-sitting, thigh riding

AN - This is my first post on here! I’ve done writings in the past but I thought I’d try a new format and space to post it! :)) I plan on continuing this if I can find the energy lol!

Part 2

18+, minors + men dni

Not every love was supposed to last. No matter how great, how wonderful, sometimes things still end. You knew Wanda like the back of your hand. And she knows you all the same. So when one of her vices came up after one of your worst fights, you could only watch. Wanda stood out on the back porch. Cigarette between her two fingers as she stared off into the darkness. There was this empty sickening in both of your stomachs that this may be the end. At this point, all options and solutions had been exhausted. You knew it was time. You watched out the kitchen window, unable to tear your eyes away as she slowly inhaled before a large cloud of smoke dissipated into the air, the cold temperatures enhancing it. Your fingers squeezed the sponge from the sink as soapy water flooded between your fingers. The dishes had been long forgotten lately as neither of you had had the energy to wash them. This was unusual for Wanda as she liked to keep the house showroom ready at all times. You forcefully ripped your eyes away from her as you began to wash the dishes, trying to make up for anything you could. To fix what you could in this messy situation.

The house that had once been so loud with laughter and joy now lingered in empty silence. Your playlist of every song you two had loved played softly over the speakers around the house. If it had been several months ago you would have pulled her closely in your arms, dancing around the kitchen despite her laughs and teases about how cheesy it was. Her nose would crinkle as you sang along in Sokovian to one of her favorite songs. You butchered the pronunciation, but you would try, she could tell. She would have given in eventually and threaded her hands in your hair as she rested her forehead against yours. You would have kissed her, kissed her as if she was going to leave the second you let go. In this reality, she very well might.

You watched out the window again for a moment before getting distracted by the dish you were washing. The knife in your hands harshly tore against your flesh and you quickly dropped the knife into the sink, a soft yelp leaving your lips. You backed away quickly as blood began to drip down your hand. It was a quick scramble for the kitchen towel as you tried to stop the bleeding. Wanda had always been there to comfort you when you were injured in the past. You bit the inside of your cheek trying to stop it as tears quickly began to fall on your face. You let off a soft sob as you abandoned the dishes, heading upstairs to your shared bedroom. Hurrying into the bathroom you discarded the bloodied towel onto the sink countertops and washed the wound before messily bandaging it up. You had never been very good at doing it yourself so Wanda had always insisted on caring for you but you didn't think that was very well an option at this point.

Tears flooded down your face as the events from the night tore your heart into shreds. You were no longer crying due to the injury. It was a different kind of pain. You stumbled over to the bed and threw your pants onto the floor before climbing into your side of the bed. The sheets were quickly pulled up to your chin as your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sobs. Quickly, you drifted off into a tired and pained sleep.

When Wanda returned inside she hadn't expected to see dishes washed especially as she investigated further and saw the drops of blood on the floor and a bloody knife in the sink. Despite the fight, she still cared and loved you. She quickly rushed upstairs in an attempt to find you. When she noticed the door slightly ajar and silence in the room she quietly peaked her head in. She sighed relieved when she saw you asleep in bed, seemingly uninjured from her view. The smell of cigarettes covered her and she wandered quietly off to the bathroom to take a shower, shutting the bathroom door behind her. For everyone but you her walls were high. She hardly let anyone in. and when she did, it felt as if it always ended this way. The feeling of being cursed towards relationships had set in. She washed her hair, going over the fight in her head as she wondered what could have gone differently, how she could save it. If it was even worth it at this point.

Tensions had been rising over the past couple of weeks. You both had been working too much recently and had hardly had time for one another. It seemed as if every day was the same. Wake up, go to work, sleep, repeat. It had been killing you both. The littlest things set you both off. It would end up in screaming matches and sleeping alone every time. What set you both over the edge this time was not so little. Natasha, your mutual friend, had begun flirting with you. While she respected your relationship, she had always believed you two were not good for each other. So when you fought last week and you ended up at her house she had done nothing but comfort you. You thought nothing of Natashas' intentions but Wanda knew otherwise. This had sent her into a fit of rage when Natasha dropped you off this morning and kissed your cheek goodbye.

You both fought for hours, arguing about anything that came to mind, but mainly Natasha. Had you understood and been able to read her mind as well, you would have understood her intentions and sided with Wanda, not seeing Natasha anymore. But you couldn't and this frustrated Wanda. When she attempted to control your mind you quickly noticed and this sent you two further down the line of fighting. You hated it when she used her powers on you. When you thought to yourself that you wished you could just forget everything that had happened Wanda broke. She had misunderstood. Thinking you had meant forgetting her. Silence fell over the fight and she went outside to have a cigarette. Her thoughts consumed her as her heart hurt.

With how often the fights had been recently as well as how busy you've been, you'd not been intimate in weeks. The tension begins to tear you both apart. When she finished her shower she pulled on an old t-shirt and shorts before popping her head out the bathroom door to check if you were still sleeping. When she saw you, she had to determine what to do. Did she sleep with you? Or did she go to the guest room? She decided that you wouldn't want her in bed and quietly tip-toed to the guest room based on what she had misunderstood. That night she cried herself to sleep as well.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

When you woke up the next morning you sat up groggily and sighed to yourself as you didn't see Wanda in bed, the memories of the night prior sinking in. Despite your anger you went to see where she had slept for the night, mostly just wanting to make sure she hadn't ended up locked out on the porch freezing to death. You saw her asleep in the guest room, her makeup smudged and muddled from tears, and her shower. You sighed and went back to your room to get ready for the day. It was unusual for you to be up first and you made use of it, quietly leaving for work before she awoke.

You returned home late that night, having gone to the bar after work with a few co-workers to unwind and relax. All you could think about was Wanda and the ache between your legs grew. You were mad, but maybe you needed that. You quietly entered the house, making a note to lock the door behind you before heading to find Wanda. You weren't extremely intoxicated, but the anger, lack of quality sleep, stress, and tequila were having a bit of an impact. You could tell she had been home for a couple of hours, the discarded takeout garbage by the trash. Suddenly she caught your eye outside on the back porch. Of course, she was smoking again. You thought to yourself before acting on impulse. You went to the door and harshly pulled the sliding door open. She let out a startled gasp that didn't happen often as she always seemed aware of your presence.

“Get inside.” You said firmly in a tone that had been unusual for you to take on with her. You had always been the more submissive in the relationship. The words shocked you both a little. She obliged anyway, out of more surprise than anything. She put the cigarette out before coming inside. You shut the door behind her, looking into her eyes before quickly pressing her against the door in a bruising kiss. She yelped out of surprise before kissing back, her hands tangling into your hair. She ignored the taste of tequila on your lips as she knew she tasted like cigarettes and couldn't defend herself for that.

You made quick work of snaking your hand underneath her shirt, groping her chest as your tongues began to fight. She had never seen this level of dominance out of you. While it surprised and intrigued her, she couldn't have it. You both knew you were just trying to get a reaction out of her as it had been entirely too long since you two had done anything together. Her hand tightened with a grip of your hair as she roughly pulled your head back, quickly beginning to kiss and nip at your neck. You let out a moan as she tugged at your hair, stumbling backward slightly as she pushed you off of her.

“Upstairs. “ She muttered firmly. You could see the darkness in her eyes and did not question it, quickly moving upstairs to your room. The past few weeks your dynamic had been shallow and lacking. You both needed rules in life. You need a guideline to follow, and she needs an outlet of control. When you got upstairs you looked around the room, taking several deep breaths before going to crack a window to get some airflow. Your jaw clenched as you took a few deep breaths trying to focus on relaxing. You closed the curtains forcefully, a little too forcefully perhaps as they, along with the curtain rod came tumbling down. Your heart sank as tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall as you knew Wanda would be mad. As you heard her footsteps approach you quickly tugged off your shirt, tossing it in a pile alongside your discarded pants. You had already dug your grave and it was getting deeper. Thoughts raced through your head about what punishment would come. The more you thought the more your legs pressed together for any kind of release you could gain. Just as you sat down on the bed the door swung open. “What the hell was that?” She asked. Her voice was angry and her accent began to peak through her words as she spoke. Her head quickly turned and noticed the window. “Did you do this?” she asked in almost a patronizing tone. She knew you did it, the guilt on your face was obvious.

You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth as she spoke, gnawing on it nervously as you considered your options. Slowly, you shook your head, the hesitation clear as tears brimmed your eyes. She walked over to you, one eyebrow raised in a way that she knew made you weak in the knees. She raised her hand before a loud echoing slap hit your cheek. You let out a moan and pressed your legs together harder as tears finally fell. “Lying gets you nowhere. I'll ask you again, Detka.” she paused, faining tenderness as she wiped a tear away from your face. “Did you do this?” every word she spoke was drawn out and stern as she raised her eyebrow and held your chin in place, forcing you to look into her eyes. Slowly you began to nod, bracing yourself for the slap you knew was about to come. When she raised her hand a slap did not come. Instead, she giggled at your flinch and reached down, snapping your bra snap on your shoulder. “This is what happens when little girls try to do things that are too big for them,” she spoke slowly, making sure each word sunk in. “You didn't even have time to fully undress for Mommy.” she shook her head and snapped your bra strap once again before pushing you to lay back on the bed. She climbed on top of you, straddling one of your thighs as she ground her hips, working herself up.

“Please Mommy,” you whined out softly as your hips raised into her, begging for any amount of pleasure you could get. Another slap fell hard across your cheek and you felt your thoughts slowly drift further into a fuzzy headspace. You moaned at the feeling. Her hand was wet from the tears that had fallen down your face and she made it a point to wipe her hand on your bare stomach.

“I didn’t permit you to speak. Did I?” She asked firmly as she leaned down, kissing and nipping at your neck. You shook your head frantically as you struggled to keep your hands by your sides. She slid her hands back up your stomach and muttered under her breath. “Good girl.” Before pulling your bra down to reveal your breasts. She wasted no time as she quickly kissed down towards your chest, taking the small bud into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around your nipple as her hand snaked down into your panties, finally touching you where you needed it most. She gasped dramatically and pulled her head up, locking eyes with you when she felt your wetness. Your face turned a deep shade of red as she proceeded to tease and taunt you for how wet you had been at her from only just slapping and teasing you. All of your thoughts were consumed by her in a fuzzy bliss.

Without warning she slipped two fingers inside of you easily. Her fingers made quick work of pumping in and out, stretching and curling them just where you needed it most. You moaned loudly and wrapped your arms around her back, pulling her body closer to you as you hid your face in her shoulder, biting down softly on the tender flesh. This depicted a soft moan from Wanda as her hips jerked slowly against your thigh. She pulled her body back with a grin as she began to bite softly across your jaw.

“Let me see your pretty face baby. I want to see you while I fuck you.” She said her fingers worked faster, her thumb reaching up to touch your throbbing clit. You blushed red as you looked into her eyes. The moon was shining through the window casting a moonlit glow across her face, a smirk forming across it. Just as quickly as she worked you up to an orgasm, she stopped. She pulled her hand away quickly and you found yourself frantically reaching for her wrist as your hips jerked underneath her.

“No! Mommy!” You yelled out exasperated as tears fell quickly from your eyes at the loss of sensation. She smirked down at you, her tongue slowly licking her lips.

“You didn't think I'd let you cum that quickly after what a brat you've been the past few weeks little girl?” She asked in a patronizing manner as she pulled her hand out of your panties and brought her fingers to her lips. You moaned at the sight, her tongue licking her fingers clean, making a show of the process. Her fingers then slid into your mouth and you groaned at the taste of your arousal mixed with her. Your tongue swirled around her fingers as you proceeded to suck her fingers.

“Please Mommy.” was all you could seem to muster out after she pulled her fingers out of your mouth. Your mind was clouded and fogged and just where Wanda wanted it.

“Silly me,” she smiled as she looked down. “Mommy has been giving you all the pleasure, she completely forgot to undress.” she motioned towards her clothes before standing up. You groaned and reached for her when she stood, no longer touching you. You let out a soft murmur as your hands grabbed at her shirt, pressing your legs together. She stripped before walking back towards you. She tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them towards the pile of clothes before doing the same with your bra. You couldn't help but notice the wetness that had soaked Wanda's panties and now glistened her thighs. Your mouth watered at the sight as all you wanted to do was taste her.

You knew how often you had fought lately and how the arguments left you due for punishment. You just weren't exactly sure what form it would take. Anticipation flooded through your body as you looked up into her eyes, your eyes wide and innocent.

“You're going to eat me out until I cum, maybe then I'll give you what you want,” she stated firmly as she squeezed at your hips. Her touches were not gentle. Her fingers dug into your tender flesh, all of her anger, stress, and tension coming out onto you. You moaned at the touch, more sensitive and aware with each touch and mark she left across your body. She let go with a slap to your thigh and you groaned at the loss of her. You sat up and watched as she moved around the room, sitting on the bed in the middle, spreading her legs for you as she watched with dark eyes. “Come make Mommy feel good.” Her voice dripped with arousal as her words of encouragement enticed you further, not that it took much at this point though.

Quickly you moved and settled yourself between her legs. You slowly began kissing up her thighs, licking the path of arousal she had left for you. She grumbled impatiently above you, clearly already ready for attention where she needed it. Her hand snaked through your hair, gently at first as it stroked your scalp. She then grabbed a fistful, tugging your hair harshly as she forced you up higher, pushing your head between her legs. At the tug, you let out a loud moan as you cursed under your breath. You got the hint and stuck out your tongue quickly getting work between her legs. Your tongue licked up her slit before it brought fast attention to her clit. You brought your fingers up and slipped two fingers inside of her. You were kinder than Wanda had been to you, moving your fingers less harshly and aggressively. It worked nonetheless as she quickly rose to an orgasm with the combination of both your fingers and tongue. Her grip on your hair did not loosen as her hips began to jerk against your face. As she reached her peak she let out a loud moan, her hips moving frantically as she tugged harshly at your hair. The taste that hit your tongue made you moan as you quickly lapped up as much as she would allow before pulling your head away.

Her chest rose and fell heavily as she caught her breath, a gentler hand moving to your neck. You leaned up her body as you kissed her passionately. When her tongue slid across your bottom lip and your mouth you eagerly allowed it entrance. A smile grew across her face as she pulled away. You whined at the loss but it was quickly relieved when she pressed a singular finger to your lips.

“Mommy.” You moaned out as your hips began to grind against her stomach. Her hand snaked down her stomach to touch you, her fingers ghosting over your clit.

“Come sit on my face Detka.” She said firmly as she adjusted her positioning, letting your thighs rest next to her head. You were hesitant yet eager as you slowly lowered yourself down, moaning loudly as her tongue finally made contact. Your hips jerked against her face as you ground against her tongue. You were worked up quickly, faster than ever as she seemed to know exactly where you needed it. She mumbled out from underneath you as she worked you up towards an orgasm. “Beg for it, Malyshka.”

Quickly words began to tumble out of your mouth as desperation to cum was needed. “Please, Mommy. Please!” You practically yelled as your hips jerked more, her nails digging into your thighs. “Please let me cum.” You begged. She complied with a grin.

“Cum for Mommy, Detka.” She said as her tongue moved rapidly beneath you. Instantly you reached your peak, reaching for the bead frame in front of you to steady yourself as you moaned loudly. When Wanda felt you had settled enough she gently pulled you down next to her and into her arms. You shook a little in Wanda's arms as she held you for the first time in weeks. Her fingers tangled in your hair as she slowly combed through the mess she had made, taking time to massage your scalp. All the thoughts of your fights had completely melted away and you were consumed by her and her embrace.

“Mommy.” You murmured as tears began to fall on your cheeks again, your face nuzzling closely in the crook of her neck.

“You did so good baby, so good.” She praised quietly as she kissed behind your ear. Her fingertips found a gentle pattern of scratching up and down your back with one hand while the other massaged where she pulled your hair. Praise was whispered into your ear as she held you closely, not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Slowly your sobs calmed and you settled into her embrace, slowly lifting your head to leave soft kisses across her jaw and neck.

“I love you, Wanda.” The words left your mouth for the first time in weeks and a soft smile crept across your lips. Wandas' face glimmered with love as she pulled you into a kiss.

“I love you too, Detka.” She whispered through kisses as she could only hold you closer. After a while of the silent embraces Wanda's thoughts of the fights crept back into memory. “We’re going to be okay.” She hesitated and looked towards you. “Right?” She spoke softly, her voice filled with fear at the thought of losing you. You nodded and kissed her softly, your mind foggy and cloudy as all you wanted was to be close to her. That night you slept close, tangled up in each other's love, neither wanting to pull away.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning when you woke up snuggled up in Wanda's arms felt different. The bliss that usually followed had dissipated and all you could think about was the pain of being with her. You gained a sinking pit in your stomach as guilt and fear coursed through your body. The flight response kicked in. You couldn't be with her, not now. Tears began to fall as you quickly but carefully left the bed and Wanda's embrace. Hurriedly you moved for some clothes as you threw on the closest things you could find without waking her. You reached for the door handle but paused. One glance back to Wanda confirmed it. You couldn't be here. So where did you go? Who greeted you with open arms? Natasha.

#wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #marvel #wanda #mommy wanda #smut #hurt/comfort #angst #wanda x reader #wandavision #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n

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youmarin · 2 months ago

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If I Die Tomorrow I'll Love You Today | Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Pairings: Megumi Fushiguro x reader (platonic/romantic. the love interest <3), Gojo Satoru x reader (platonic), Tsumiki Fushiguro x reader (platonic), Itadori Yūji x reader (platonic), Kugisaki Nobara x reader (platonic). Lots of friendship and Gojo being a dad of 1, 2, 3…

Tags: angst, would this be considered a whump fic?, fluffy and wholesome, slowburn (?) (she fell first, he fell harder hehe), friends to lovers/childhood friends to lovers.

Summary: You inherit an ability that most people don’t, which turns your life upside down. At your lowest, a very special person lifts you up and gives you a second chance. You meet more people like you and enter their world, you fall in love and you’re willing to die to protect those who stood by your side.

Word count: 21,161 oops! (+ like +1.5k of footnotes with further details/commentary. I know. I should shut tf up.)

See the end for A/N.

masterlist

Your grandmother was the first person to notice it. That there were dangerous things lurking unseen to many. And that you could see them too. It was equally reassuring as it was scary to hear that in fact, the creatures you saw at school, that one time at the hospital when you nearly broke your arm, or even clinging to a person on the street, were real and not something your brain had made up. But you always felt safe with your grandmother. She seemed able to tell how to keep you out of harm's way.

You felt very lonely in the world when she died. Felt that the darkness was now unavoidable. And you couldn’t shake the feeling off that maybe her death was related to it.

Her house. You found yourself still drawn to it. It wasn’t far from your own home so when your parents couldn’t find you anywhere else, they would know that’s where you had strayed to, sitting there quietly for hours. At first they’d pinned it to grief, that you missed your grandmother, which was also true. You’d been closer to her. But your behaviour started to worry them. Always fidgety and anxious, easily scared and startled, seemingly spaced out in your own world. That worry turned to frustration, which turned to annoyance, and finally, disappointment. Then one day, they decided they had enough of it.

“Mommy?” You called out for her once you stepped through your front door, sliding your shoes off and putting them to the side. It was late, school having been over a while ago. “Daddy?” You winced, taking a step back when a stranger man emerged from the living room instead. Eyeing behind him, you saw your parents standing up from the couch next to each other. Their eyes were stern.

You knew they didn’t understand you. They didn’t understand your grandma either. She’d told you not to mention anything to them. But even though you didn’t, they still figured out something was different with you too. It was okay if they didn’t understand. The part that hurt and that you didn’t understand was them pushing you away.

There was one thing your grandmother once told you that struck you, the thing that kept you going on during the first weeks of your confinement. Still, after losing count of how many months you’d been in the facility, it was hard. You were tired, your little body stiff and mind exhausted after another session of therapy in which you did your best to play along but ended up breaking down and trying to run away again seeking out, out, out.

Maybe you were never getting out. Maybe you really needed fixing.

_____

You woke up, hearing the commotion coming from the hallway. Then the place grew eerily quiet again, just like always. You didn’t bother to move from your position, lying on the small cot of the room, your knees pressed to your chest. Not even when your door opened suddenly with force did you stir, just lifted your weary gaze towards it.

The people you saw clearly didn’t work here. What they were doing in your room was beyond you. Had they given up on you here too? Would they take you somewhere else now?

Another figure appeared in the room, so fast you were barely able to see it. The others weren’t even able to touch him. Soon enough, the other people were beaten up on the floor, the later arrival barely breaking a sweat. He dusted off his hands and turned to you.

“Seems like I got here just in time.” with the dull lighting in your room for the night, you could make out a smile shining on his face. His hair was all white, and it seemed so bright even in the dim space. As if things weren’t strange enough, his eyes were covered too. “Sorry about that.”

Your lack of reactions were no good. It made him wonder if he really had gotten his timing right at all. Even though you were staring at him, your eyes seemed lost. It actually felt like you were staring past him.

What was he doing?

He already had enough being the guardian of the Fushiguro kids.

“You’re a special little girl, aren’t you?” When he uncovered his eyes, you saw they were a striking blue. They were beautiful yet somewhat intimidating. “You see things most people don’t.”

After months of hearing the opposite and trying to get you to believe that in fact, those things weren’t real, it felt bizarre to hear it from him. Was it a test? Would they punish you if you fell for it?

Your eyes caught movement behind him, the woman on the floor stirring. She released one of those strange creatures to attack him and you couldn’t help the scared feeling that flooded you.

But in swift movements, he’d gotten rid of it and knocked out the woman again.

He smiled a little wider when he saw you’d finally moved to sit, your body stiff. Though you looked a little shaken, “You saw it, didn’t you?”

You nodded, hesitantly.

“I see them too. And there’s more people like us. Like those two weaklings on the floor, but they’re bad.”

“Are you real?” your innocent, unsure tone made him chuckle a bit.

“Of course I am real. Here.” He extended a hand for you to touch. You looked at it, standing up and tentatively reaching for it. In fact, he was very real. You closed your fingers between his as if for final confirmation and you looked up to meet his eyes. “Now, let’s get out of here. What do you say?”

One day you might find a person with whom you won’t have to hide this side of you. They might be just like you. You, my little girl, were that person for me.

Her words resonated in your head again, and overwhelmed, you felt your eyes sting with pooling tears, letting go of the young man’s hand and throwing yourself towards him in a hug, little arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

“Woah, okay.” It caught him a little off guard but a chuckle fell from between his lips and he patted your head softly.

He couldn’t get you to let go of him, so he’d settled on carrying you on the way out until they reached the car.

______

“Megumi-chan!” Megumi looked up, silently indicating that he was paying attention to his guardian. “I have someone I want you to meet.” When Gojo looked down, he followed his gaze to finally notice the little girl he was pointing at, hiding behind his legs out of shyness. “This is y/n-chan.”

Your eyes locked with the deep dark blue ones of the little boy Gojo had called Megumi, and you tilted your head curiously.

His hair was weird.

One of your hands let go of the fabric of Gojo’s pants and went up to your head, where your own hair was styled in two ponytails, one sitting slightly lower than the other.

You looked up to Gojo when he spoke again, putting a hand gently on your back to get you out of your hiding place, “Go on, you can bother him all you want. He won’t mind.”

Who’s he to tell if something bothers me or not?, Megumi thought, watching the interaction.

“But I don’t want to bother him.” was your sweet answer.

That made the young man laugh. “Of course you don’t. But just know you can. If he bothers you then you tell me.”

Megumi glared at him. How was that fair?

“You don’t have to hide. Ever. I’m just kidding. He’s a good kid just like you.”

With a last gentle push, Gojo let you two alone in the Jujutsu High garden, after telling Megumi that he’ll come fetch him later for a little training session.

You walk over to where he’s sitting on a blanket under the shadow of a tree, taking a seat too, just not too close. Then you take your new little backpack off your shoulders and rest it on your lap. Your fingers tighten a little around the bag. This is the first time you meet someone your age that can see curses, like Gojo told you they were called. And you could be friends.

“What?” His voice has a rough edge to it. You’re not quite expecting him to talk so you jump in your seat a little. Embarrassed by having kept staring at him, you looked down. He probably found it rude.

He returns to what he is doing in his notebook and after a while you open your bag and reveal your also new coloring book and crayons, both settling to quietly work away.

After a while, Megumi risks a glance at you again. He thinks your ponytails look a little funny. And upon further inspection he notices you’re wearing boy's clothes that look all too familiar. The way you were looking at him earlier with bright, big curious eyes is gone and you look sad now. When he looks down at the page you’re coloring, he sees it’s the picture of a dog. He wonders what made you pick the color red for it. Megumi thinks you’re about to cry when the crayon slips from your grip a little and you end up accidentally coloring out of the lines.

You hear him mutter something and see he’s frowning. You’re really about to cry now because you think he’s annoyed that you’re there when suddenly there’s a big ball of white fur in front of you (it’s really not that big yet, just bigger than you). You gasp in surprise and delight.

You look at Megumi again now, and he reaches to pet the dog. You take his gesture as an okay and smile at him. His little face feels warm but you’re too happily entertained with Shiro to notice it.

After that, you play with Shiro for a while before Megumi releases it, you share your coloring book and the snacks Gojo put on your backpack. When Gojo comes back to pick both of you up, he finds you both had fallen asleep. You’re facing each other, one your tiny hands had somehow tangled in Megumi’s unruly hair and the other under one of his.

Soon enough, you were starting training too.

Megumi watched sitting close by when Gojo told him it was break time. He’d called you over.

Gojo explained to you several different moves you could make with the aid of a dummy and you watched attentively, trying to copy them as accurately as you could.

“Hit it as hard as you can.”

He watched you grow tired after some time, small face flush and sweaty.

The young man grinned.

“Okay, why don’t you try to land a hit on me before we wrap it up?”

“You can’t do it. He’s lying.” Megumi frowned, guessing the man’s intentions.

He’d already fallen for it.

“Oh c’mon, you’re no fun, Megumi.” Yet, his argument had been vague. You wouldn’t get what the little boy meant, “And why are you telling her what she can and can’t do?”

“That’s not what I mean.” His frown grew deeper while he shook his head vigorously.

“C’mon y/n.” He encouraged, seeing you hesitantly looking between Megumi and him.

“But I don’t want to hurt you.” You said, settling to looking down at your fidgety fingers. You looked really upset about it.

Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses and he stalled for a moment, your words warming his heart but playing it down by clearing his throat. “It’s alright, darling. You won’t hurt me.” He meant it. He risked a glance at the now pretty beaten up dummy you’d been practicing with. You were a little violent though, he worried. Then he caught himself. You really couldn’t hurt him.

“Really?”

“Really.” He said reassuringly. “Now give me your best shot.”

“Okay.” you said, still a little hesitant but going for it.

And Megumi couldn’t help but watch as another person fell victim to Gojo’s little amusement. The man did feel a tiny bit bad, but it was too fun to resist it.

You totally crashed and fell back on your bum. You didn’t crash with Gojo though. It felt like hitting a very clean glass door.

You brought a hand up to your forehead, looking so dumbfounded while Gojo stood there laughing until he was in tears.

“I tried to warn you.” Megumi walked over, extending his hand to touch the invisible barrier you’d hit. “It’s his technique. You can’t touch him unless he turns it off and lets you.”

Your little self felt very betrayed, and both Gojo and Megumi picked up on it. “That was mean!” You said, standing up to try again only for your little fist to hit nothing.

“I’m sorry!” Gojo managed between laughs.

“No you’re not!” Now Megumi joined forces with you. But it was no use, neither of you would land a hit.

You stopped, huffing and puffing, and that’s when Gojo took his chance to swiftly pick you up, “Gotcha!” making you squeal and giggle as he tickled you. Before Megumi could get away, he was being picked up too, squirming to get down but failing, instead landing on the man’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. When he stopped resisting, he shifted to look at you, cheering as Gojo offered to get you ice cream as an apology.

Your cursed technique then started to manifest itself. The most evident thing was that now when you looked at everyone, all your eyes would focus on was in this weird light flowing all over their bodies, twinkling brighter varying the person or how they seemed to feel. When you stared at Gojo, for example, it was almost blinding.

And you felt exhausted. You wanted to say something about it but you couldn’t find the way to explain yourself.

You were heading over to see Megumi and Tsumiki. Apparently, Megumi was sick. Nothing serious, just a common cold.

“You okay over there?” Gojo asked, looking at you from the rear view mirror, you sitting on the back. He’d noticed your squinting for a while now. You avoided looking at him, choosing to look out the window as you nodded. “Is the sun bothering you? Here.” He handed you a strip of dark cloth, like the ones he used to tie over his eyes. He would give you his glasses but they were too big for you. He noted to buy you some. He chuckled as you put it over your eyes. “You look just like me now.”

That made you laugh too. “I can’t see anything now.” But it brought you comfort, giving your straining eyes some rest.

When you pulled over to a stop outside the apartment building, you forgot for a moment all about your own and got out of the car excited to see both of the Fushiguro kids.

You hugged Tsumiki first before heading over towards Megumi. He’d been sleeping in his room until recently. You practically jumped over him.

“I missed you!” you hugged him. “Are you okay?”

Overall, he was. It only sounded like it wasn’t every time he coughed and Gojo worried his lungs would come out. He’d had a fever but it was better now, so he made Megumi take a nasty cough syrup after having dinner, considering that going to the hospital wasn’t necessary.

“Get away from Megumi, y/n. You might get his germs.” Gojo joked.

“Ew!” You giggled, watching Megumi’s sour face, the medicine taste in his mouth. Then you had an idea. “Oh, I know how you’d get better sooner, Megumi!” Your eyes shined. Forgetting all about the gross stuff Gojo said, you leaned over with your hands on his shoulders and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Now!”

Megumi’s little round cheeks colored. “Um, thank you.”

He stared at you and also noticed your sort of unfocused stare. You were looking at him but at the same time it seemed like you weren’t. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm!” You nodded, still sitting on your knees in front of him on the bed.

You settled in a comfortable silence. Megumi stared at you with tired eyes, as your own tired ones fixated on whatever you’d been staring at for a while. “You’re shining, Megumi.” you revealed, words a little slurred with what he figured was sleep. He chuckled at your odd comment.

When you place a hand over his arm, following the flow of light you saw, he feels something strange. It’s associated with you, it feels like you. For a moment he swears he sees something shining white from where your skin touches and thinks he might be getting a fever back and he’s hallucinating. But in a blink, it’s gone and he discarded calling for Gojo.

Satoru doesn’t know when he dozed off on the couch. But it’s still too early in the morning when he’s startled awake by Megumi calling for him, his voice alarmed.

You had picked up Megumi’s cold. Since you were already exhausted it had gotten worse. You were shivering, hair sticking to your burning forehead with sweat and your cheeks red with a fever too high. Megumi’s terrified by your side, and Gojo’s not doing much better. When he gathers his bearings enough, he picks you up, your small body slumping against his and he’s rushing out of the room. There’s no time to argue with the other two for them to stay behind so they all get in the car and rush to the hospital.

“She got sick because of me.” Megumi mumbles to him, eyes downcast. They’re sitting on the chairs outside your hospital room. Tsumiki’s sitting by his other side, fast asleep with her body leaning against his after he got her to calm down.

“Don’t say it like it’s your fault. You couldn’t possibly know she’ll get like this.”

Maybe that kiss was a little too effective, Megumi thinks. He’s feeling much better now. But he’d rather you not giving it to him if it’d made you sick. “I think she has been feeling bad since last night.”

“What makes you think so?” Gojo asks him.

“She said something weird. That I was shining. And she sounded tired.”

“Shining?”

When the doctors got your fever under control and later in the day you woke up, they were all in your room. You’re a little scared until you see them come in.

Gojo stares at you while you talk with the kids, studying you closer. He still sees you squinting from time to time, especially when you turn to look at him.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, little miss?” He finally speaks up. There’s a worried look on your face and you open your mouth, then close it. You shake your head. “Are you sure?”

“I-I don’t know.” You settle with.

“You don’t know?” He quirks a brow.

Tentatively, you reach for him, he’s sitting by your bedside. You blink a couple times, trying to get used to the “light”, your little finger tracing up his arm. “It’s too bright.”

It clicks now. Gojo beats himself for not noticing it sooner. You’d been struggling with your technique this whole time. He sighs, expression softening.

“It’s okay. We’ll handle it.” He moves to sit beside you on the bed, then places his hands over your eyes.

“What are you doing?” Megumi asks, eyeing the man strangely. You chuckle, also wondering what Satoru’s doing.

“Doesn’t it feel better?”

You nod.

“It was my bad, okay?” Gojo says, looking at Megumi.

__________

School had been hard to adjust to, being at a new place and a little behind the others, adding all the new things you knew now. But it was okay. Just. Lonely. You didn’t call attention on yourself and spent most of your free time alone. You wondered how Megumi did in school. You only saw him on weekends when Gojo brought him to Jujutsu High for training or on other occasions when Gojo dropped at his place with you tagging along to check up on him and his sister.

“Say, Megumi-chan,” Gojo started one evening while he finished folding his laundry. He wasn’t expecting the man to drop by today. “What would you say if y/n-chan started middle school in the same school as you guys the upcoming year?” At the mention of your name, Megumi perked up. Gojo knew he got along well with you and thought both you and the boy would do each other good company.

He shrugged, seemingly uninterested, but it wasn’t an unpleasant idea. Quite the opposite. “I don’t mind. But you should ask her first.”

“You think I wouldn’t ask her first?”

He really has to ask when he does whatever he wants all the time?

Megumi raised a brow at him but Gojo continued as if he hadn’t said anything in the first place.

“Great! So it’s settled. I’ll tell her to come.”

“Tell her to…?-” The words died in his mouth as he followed Gojo into the hall and he opened the front door.

Next thing he knew, you were crashing into him in a tight hug almost throwing you both onto the floor, saying his name in a cheery voice. Throughout the years, you’d grown more comfortable around those closer to you, which included him of course, a side only a few privileged could see. Megumi couldn’t deny that some of Gojo’s exuberant ways (to put it lightly) had rubbed off on you, thankfully not on the same level. He liked this side of you, even though he pretended not to as he pushed you off him (putting nearly no resistance, really) while he chuckled. More open and cheerful, probably more close to how you were supposed to be if what happened to you in the past before he met you hadn’t taken place at all. He still didn’t know much about it. You never mentioned it and he never asked. He thought about asking Gojo someday.

Right now, he stares at your eyes shining with joy as you stare back at his deep blue ones and lets himself give you a soft smile. He hopes it doesn’t show on his face how warm his cheeks feel.

Life seemed more exciting then. Although you had Gojo around every other day when he wasn’t working, apart from him you were mostly on your own. Now you’d moved in with Megumi and Tsumiki and would go to school together.

You’d see another side of Megumi you’d been wondering about for a while, how he was in the school environment. It wasn’t much different. You knew he was responsible with his assignments and lessons. When you visited him before, he’d be finishing doing them or reviewing, or he’d completely done them already. Very much like you in that matter; you tended to do schoolwork during free periods or lunch period so you didn’t have to bring it back home with you. You also expected him more to be on his own most of the time, and you weren’t wrong either. And even though you knew it would be like that, you didn’t think it would put a damper on the dynamic of your friendship.

Somehow, you came up with the idea that he wouldn’t like to be seen around with you.

And Megumi didn’t understand it. You seemed so excited to be attending school with him, but once you reached the school gates in the morning you’d go your own way and barely see each other for the rest of the day. That was, of course, until he’d end up in the principal’s office after beating up a guy for bothering another third guy that ended out of the skirmish after muttering a shuddering ‘thank you’ and scurrying away. You’ll head out of your classroom and meet with Tsumiki to see if he was okay.

What surprised you the most was that. The fights. Somehow you’d never witnessed one. It’s not like you wanted to (maybe him neither and had been doing a great job at keeping you from doing so).

He’d managed to put in line every bully of the school or well, mostly all of them. Apparently, some were dumb enough to start picking on you. You seemed like the perfect target. Quiet, reserved, seemed to have a permanent look of worry etched on your face. There was no way you would tell on them.

It had started subtle enough to not cause immediate worry, but they’d noticed the little details. Like how during dinner you sometimes seemed hungrier than usual. Which wasn’t bad, you were a growing girl after all, and they liked that you ate well. If it wasn’t for the fact that you’d had to skip lunch because some jerk took your money.

Or when at some point it took you longer to finish with your assignments. Sure, you were middle schoolers and the lessons’ topics grew more complex by year but it usually never took you so long as to keep you closed up in your room for so much time. It was because they made you do their homework.

At last, Megumi became wary one day when school was done and it was time to go home, but you never came out to meet them at the entrance. You’d skipped afternoon classes and ran home. Just before lunch period, someone had stuck a piece of chewing gum in your hair. When Megumi and Tsumiki got home, they’d froze upon seeing how your once long hair now reached just below your shoulders. Tsumiki had instantly lost it, asking what had made you do that to your beautiful hair but you just brushed her off with a smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. Megumi frowned at the scene.

Suspecting you wouldn’t tell if he asked you directly, he decided to wait a little longer for the cause of your behaviour to reveal itself.

It finally happened one day during free period, when one of your bullies noticed something that piqued their eye. It was a silly keychain Gojo had given you the last time you all went out together the previous weekend. When they asked to have it and you said no, things took a more physical turn.

“Did you say no?” they asked, as if they’d misheard you.

“I won’t give it to you.” You said firmly.

“Is that so? Then I’ll just have to take it.”

Megumi had just stepped outside of his own classroom to walk over to the vending machines, when he’d spotted the three, two girls and a boy, and you, speaking near his destination. His expression softened without him picking on it. He’d never see you talk to anyone so it was nice to see you make friends. So was he thinking until he noticed how uncomfortable you really looked and he started to hurry over. He was just a tad bit late as they shoved you harshly and you stumbled back to the ground.

“Give it back!” You’d hurried to stand back up and get your things back from the boy, the one that had pushed you and thrown your bag to the ground, having gotten what he wanted. He shoved you again, you hitting the wall and Megumi swore he was seeing red.

How long had this been happening?

When the two girls met Megumi’s death stare they froze in place. He grabbed the boy’s shoulder and spun him around before sending a punch square to his face.

“If you dare to touch her again I will break all of your fingers.” He threw another punch but didn’t connect, the boy moving and managing to land a punch around Megumi’s chin.

Okay, now you were really angry.

“Don’t touch him!” As Megumi stumbled slightly, you stood up and stepped in, taking the matter into your own hands (better late than never), throwing yourself at the boy to punch him.

Gojo wasn’t surprised to receive a call from the school every other day to hear about how Megumi had gotten into a fight again, but this time it did when he heard you’d been part of it.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Hell, why didn’t you do anything sooner!” Back home after the incident, Gojo couldn’t barely get a word in as Megumi kept doing all the reprimanding. The boy would ask you something, but he didn’t even let you talk either.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone!” You managed to cut him off.

“Do I seem less worried now?!”

“Megumi, stop shouting!” Tsumiki chimed in.

He took a deep breath. He really wasn’t one to shout but the whole ordeal had really gotten to his nerves. “I need out.” He parted from the living room and out the front door, closing it with a loud bang.

You stood in your place on the couch, looking at your hands on your lap.

“Megumi’s right in something.” Gojo finally was able to speak, “You could’ve said something. Or dealt with it. Megumi would’ve gladly punched the lights out of him for you, but you did it just fine yourself!” He wasn’t happy that such a thing had been happening for such a long time, but he did sound proud about you beating up the boy. “I thought you’d made me a promise.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes. Gojo was staring right back at you. He was talking about the promise you made the day he took you in.

“You’ll be safe here and will have everything you need.” Gojo had told you when you arrived at what would be your new home. “I’ll need you to do just a little thing for me, okay?”

You’d turn your attention away from the room to look back at him, still perched on his arms. Your tiny hands let go of his shoulders to pull up his blindfold and look him in the eyes. “What is it?” you tilted your head curiously.

“I need you to be brave and strong.”

“Like you?”

The young man nodded. “Like me, or more if you can. Think you can do that for me?”

Seeing the unsure look on your face, Gojo had to bite back a laugh. “I don't expect you to be able to be so by tomorrow morning. Little by little every day. Yeah?”

At his explanation, you nodded, raising your pinky. “Promise.”

“Promise.”

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and you had to bite on it and focus on the sting to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m sorry.” You said when you felt you were in the clear to speak again.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Gojo brushed you off.

Gojo knew you weren’t a fan of confrontation when it came to only yourself. But when others were involved, that’s when you would step up. That’s why when you’ve accounted for the events of the day he immediately understood what made you finally take action. He just wanted you to learn to stand up for yourself.

“Megumi’s been out for a while…” Tsumiki trailed off, a worried edge to her tone.

“I’ll go look for him.” Gojo stood up and followed the way out.

When they were back, the boy went straight to his room. You went right after him, the small first aid kit you’d retrieved from the bathroom in your hands.

He stared at you when you opened the door and stepped in, but looked away once you sat down next to him at the foot of his bed. He didn’t resist it when you brought a hand up to his face to tilt it in your direction. Still, his gaze was downcast and his expression serious.

“You’re still upset?”

“What made you think so?” He answered, tone flat. He winced once you brought up a cotton ball to clean the cut on his lip.

“Does it hurt?”

“Just stings a little.” Normally, the bullies never stood a chance and Megumi would end unscathed besides the cuts in his knuckles.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

You stayed quiet as you finished up. Looking down at your arm, he brought a hand up gently brushing over the bruise forming there from when you hit the wall. He frowned but held back from ranting again. He said something else instead.

“You did get him good though.”

A small smile started to break on your face at his comment. “I’m sure I could beat you too now.” you teased.

“Say that again on Saturday.” there was a hint of a smile on his face then too, his hand coming up to brush over a strand of your hair.

After the issue with those jerks was over, Megumi was rarely seen alone again at school, and so were you. Now you two were inseparable, always seen together outside of the classrooms. Like at that moment, you talking his ear off walking down the school hallways while he listened contentedly to your ramble. And now really no one was dumb enough to bother you again.

______

Just having begun your last year of middle school, an event happened that shook your lives again.

Tsumiki fell into a coma, under the effect of some curse.

Nobody had any answers as to how it happened, no trace, no clues. Just one day, she wouldn’t wake up.

Megumi couldn’t explain it. She was just fine the days before. If he thought too much about it it’d send him spiraling, until he couldn’t think of anything else. He’d go around asking questions and returning home late. At first, you’d decided to give him space but were sure to let him know you were there for him given he needed anything. It got really bad for a while afterwards, shutting you and everyone off every time you offered him help, not letting anyone join him when he visited her. On the worst days, he’ll skip class, or return home to just lock himself in his room. You wouldn’t see him for hours.

“You’re home.” you brightened up one evening. He’d come back relatively earlier than other days. “You’re hungry? Let me heat up your food again.”

He silently took off his shoes, then disappeared through the hallway. He came back after dropping his bag in his room and changing into more comfortable clothes. Wordlessly, he ate dinner. But it was something. You were fine with it. That was until he put the dishes away and headed out towards his room again.

Before you even caught up to what you were doing, you were following him, hurried footsteps thudding against the floor. You heard the lock clicking in place. You knocked the door, with a little more force than necessary.

“Megumi? Megumi, could you please open the door?”

No response. He’d just closed the door, you knew he could hear you.

“You can’t keep doing this, Megumi.”

“Is this how things are going to be now?” your voice ultimately broke. “What am I even doing here if I can’t help you?”

“I miss her too. And no, I won’t say I get it because I’m sure I don’t feel remotely the same way you do.”

“But I miss you too.” You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

He lay there on his bed facing away from the door while he heard your soft cries right on the other side. At some point you had given up on him opening the door because he couldn’t hear you anymore. It was better for you that way.

He didn’t notice when he’d drifted off to sleep, but when he woke up it was past midnight. His mouth was dry, so he stood up to go get some water, his body aching from the curled up position he’d fallen asleep into. Then he noticed a light outside was still on, just a fine line visible from under his door. You were still up?

Warily, he approached it and turned the knob. He felt a slight pressure on it as he swung it open slowly. And there you were sitting on the floor in front of his door. You weren’t awake though.

Megumi hastily called your name and crouched down to get a hold of you before you fell over and could hurt yourself. He brought a hand up to your face, harmonious except for the red under your eyes, the streaks of dry tears on your cheeks, your lashes still moist.

He called your name again when you wouldn’t wake up. He could feel himself begin to tremble around you, one arm around your middle holding you in your sitting position while his other hand sustained your head up tilted in his direction.

Finally beginning to open your eyes after he called your name for the third time, he exhaled in relief. “Megumi? What? What is it?” you sat up almost instantly, sleep draining out at the sight of tears falling from his eyes, your hands finding his face to wipe them away.

A hiccup in his voice kept him from talking right away, “I’m sorry.” His arms wrapped around you and hugged you tightly to him. You didn’t miss a beat to do the same. “I’m right here.”

“Yes, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here with you.” It was hard for the words to come out over the lump in your throat.

You were both a crumpled mess on the ground, holding on to each other while tears kept falling. But this was better. It was better to be broken together.

Come another day, you went to visit Tsumiki together. You insisted on talking to her, and told Megumi to talk to her too, that she’d like to hear his voice. Hesitantly, when he was alone, he would do so. And sometimes he felt he needed to, like this time, due to your choice in conversation.

“You’ll see, our Megumi has gotten so handsome!”

His face burned, was it out of embarrassment or for the compliment he didn’t know.

“Could you not say stuff like that?”

“Oh that’s right. He was always handsome.”

“That’s not what I meant.” It was useless to try to stop you though.

“A girl from his class confessed to him this week! She probably did because the year’s almost over and we’ll start high school soon too. But he rejected her though so he’s still single.”

“So are you.”

“And who’s fault is that? You and Gojo teamed up to scare all boys away!”

“I’ve beaten up like half of the male student population of the school. They’re just a bunch of pricks.”

You sighed, “I wish someone would confess to me before going onto Jujutsu High. Although I’ll get to see Inumaki senpai from time to time.”

Megumi’s face scrunched up, “You have a crush on Inumaki senpai?”

“What? He’s sweet. And cute.”

How would I know? Megumi thought.

Seeing his expression, you laughed, grabbing onto his hands for a moment too brief, reaching from your seat beside him, “Guess it’ll be just you and me in the end, Megumi.” You smiled brightly at him, then again you turned to Tsumiki, now continuing to speak about something else he wasn’t paying attention to as he was left to stare at you, your eyes sparkling with your excitement yet with a tenderness, always hopeful that one day she’d wake up, if only to tell you to shut up.

He was doing better. He has you both. He’ll fix what happened to his sister, and he’ll always protect you too.

For a moment, you looked at Megumi and found a soft smile on his lips as he stared at the scene in front of him. It didn’t leave as his eyes met yours.

___________

This weekend, you didn’t visit Jujutsu High. Someone had gone to the school and declared war against the sorcerers. The day they planned to attack would be today. It was Christmas Eve, and while you were worried for everyone, you still were selfishly upset that Gojo had to leave.

“Shouldn’t we go help them then?” You said while working with the preparations for the evening. “We have training, and we’ll be official students at the school in a couple months.” But instead, you were stuck in the apartment.

“He’ll be back tonight.” Megumi told you while he helped you.

It was Gojo, he thought. He was the strongest so there was nothing to worry about. That’s what he told himself yet when evening rolled in and you sat at the table, two seats empty, he couldn’t deny the anxiety gnawing at his insides even though he didn’t voice it.

“Let’s go to bed.” Megumi called out to you, standing out on the balcony in your pajamas, still waiting. “Get back inside. It’s cold.”

“He said he’d be here.” He heard your voice waver.

It was past midnight, and you still refused to go to bed. At some point, you’d started to silently cry, your head lying on Megumi’s shoulder as you sat closely on the living room sofa. He didn’t bring it up, letting you cry until eventually you fell asleep.

Still early in the morning, Megumi stirred awake when he heard someone close the front door. He moved his neck from side to side with a grimace, having fallen asleep with his head on top of yours, the position a little uncomfortable and making it hurt. Footsteps got closer until Gojo was stopping in front of him. The man took the scene in front of him and scrambled for something to say, especially with Megumi squinting at him with sleepy eyes.

“You’re late.” the boy spoke up first.

“Were you worried about me?” He tried to make the mood lighthearted.

The boy averted his gaze,“What if I was?”

“So you were?” Said the man, actually a little surprised. Pleasantly surprised.

“You made her cry.”

At that, Gojo glanced at your sleeping figure, still nuzzled into Megumi. Your cheeks were streaked with dry tears. your under eyes and cheeks slightly flushed. The man’s eyes softened, a pang of guilt to his chest.

Later, when you woke up, you found yourself lying on the couch, a warm blanket over you. Sitting across from you, you saw him.

“Merry Christmas.” he smiled.

You squealed happily, then remembered you had just woken up and had terrible bed hair. You weren’t a fan of people seeing you like that, so next you left out another scream, mortified, making Gojo laugh.

“The neighbors are going to put up a noise complaint, y/n.” Megumi said from the kitchen, finishing making breakfast.

As soon as you were ready, you came back to the living room and tackled Gojo in a hug, a puff of air leaving him because of your rough affection.

Before he could do anything, you rushed towards the small Christmas tree at the corner of the room. Under it, a few presents directed to Gojo, Tsumiki, Megumi and you.

“Megumi! You were supposed to wait!” you scolded.

You picked one up and walked back towards Gojo.

“Merry Christmas, Satoru.” you smiled brightly at him. He brought up his hands to receive his present, a wobbly smile trying to break through as he looked away from your eyes.

Your own smile faltered, concerned, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. All good.” But his eyes look sad and distant, as if he was torn between this moment and elsewhere. “Thank you, kid.”

“You’re welcome. I really hope you like it. I dragged Megumi around the mall looking for the per…” He stared at you with a soft expression as you kept talking, your under eyes still red and irritated but all lightened up now.

Thank you for your tears.

___________

“You already done? Gojo is coming to get us soon.”

“C’mon, you know he’s rarely on time.” He heard you answer back.

Megumi opened the door to your room but stopped at the doorway when he saw you. You were already dressed in your new Jujutsu High uniform, the skirt flowing in the air as you turned around.

“Whatcha think? Wouldn’t these in black suit me better?” Almost your entire closet consisted in black clothes but he had to agree that black really did suit you very well. Although he didn’t mind the rare times you wore another color. He’ll find he’d like it anyway.

“It looks good.”

“You really think so?” You brightened up, finally taking a good look at him. “You look great though! It matches with your eyes”

“It’s just a uniform.” He murmured, avoiding your eyes. He didn’t know why you always managed to get him flustered lately.

“We’re gonna be using these for a while.”

Like you had predicted, Gojo was late, but once he arrived, you picked up your things with a sigh and filed out, throwing one last look at the apartment you’d called home for the last 3 years. It wasn’t a goodbye. Once Tsumiki woke up, she could return and you’ll come back any time you’d like. Megumi was the last to come out, taking in how much more empty the place ended up, then closed the door.

“At school you have to show respect to your superiors.” Gojo started once you reached Jujutsu High.

“Just like you do?” Megumi said sarcastically, raising a brow at him.

“You mean we have to call you Gojo sensei?”

“That’s right!” He pointed at you animatedly. “You always picked things up fast. Now,” He waited expectantly for you to fill the imaginary blank in the air.

“Gojo sensei.” Gosh you were so cute. Both you and Megumi were so fun to mess with in such different ways, watching the grumpy boy start to mutter to himself in clear annoyance.

Meanwhile, Megumi couldn’t believe how gullible you could be sometimes.

“Y/n, you’re indulging him too much.”

“C’mon Megumi-chan, try again.” Rang his now officially teacher’s sing song voice.

“Just once and he’ll stop.” You told him, but clearly you were finding it fun.

“You think?”

____________

Megumi arrived at Sendai at night. The time didn’t matter to him that much on that occasion because it was a simple mission. He was supposed to find the talisman, then he would go to the hotel and head back to Tokyo tomorrow.

In front of the Stevenson screen, he stopped.

Something was off.

Where did he go? Before you could wonder anything else, you felt him grab hold of one of your arms, turning you around and out of your hiding place behind the underbrush. You made contact with the ground harshly while he pinned your hands above your head and the rest of your body with his on top.

You chuckled, a little out of breath from the impact. “You’re getting good, Megumi.” Sure he was. He only sensed you because you let him. And there you were, smiling up at him like you were having fun and nothing was up. How long had you been trailing him?

Unable to ignore his presence lingering for maybe too long (not that you could with all of him practically holding you down), and his deep blue eyes like the ocean seemingly pinning you down on its own, you squirmed under him nervously. “Are we going to stay like this all night or are we getting the job done?”

That seemed to snap him back, releasing you quickly and standing up, busying himself dusting off his uniform. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You sat up, “I’m on the mission.”

“Gojo didn’t appoint you for this one. If I remember correctly, he actually told you not to come. How did you even snuck out and travel here?” He sometimes found your stealth an equally good and bad point. That paired with your ability to practically reduce your cursed energy to nothing made it hard to notice you. He didn’t blame whoever you got to overlook you.

“Gojo sensei.” He helped you up, dusting off your skirt, “I got my own money.”

“We’re not at school. And he should cut down your allowance.”

“It’s still school business. And if he wants to save money he should cut down yours.”

“That doesn’t even make sense! I haven’t done anything!”

“Exactly! It’s a simple mission and you’re here arguing with me!” You turned away from him and looked over to the screen, “It’s supposed to be right there, isn’t it? I don’t even feel anything.” Megumi frowned at your words, then went ahead to open the screen. You followed, standing on the tip of your toes to take a look over his shoulder.

There was supposed to be a lock in it but it was gone, so without any obstacle, the door budged open easily to find-

Nothing.

His face scrunched up.

He took out his phone. Gojo didn’t take long to pick up. “There’s nothing here.” He muttered out. When he turned slightly to look at you he opened his mouth again, and you feared he would rat you out. And you were right to do so because that’s what he planned to do. You shook your head and clasped your hands together pleading with him.

You couldn’t hear what Gojo said but Megumi didn’t find it funny, repeating he was going to punch him. Then Gojo hung up. You smiled brightly at him for not telling on you and Megumi scolded himself for giving in to you. He sighed.

“Can’t go home until I find it.” He turned to start to look around.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“It’s dark. It could be anywhere around the school and I can’t exactly feel anything near us. Let’s head over to the hotel and come back early tomorrow.”

You were right. It was dark and if you couldn’t even sense it, it meant it would be more troublesome. He began to make his way back, bringing his phone up to call Ijichi-san this time. “Absolutely not. You’re staying back tomorrow.”

“What? No! I thought we were good now! You know I’m helpful.” You protested.

Sure, he knew you were more than helpful, but if Gojo had been opposed to you joining it was for a reason. “I didn’t tell on you, but Ijichi-san will unless you do as told.”

“Fine.” Now you were frowning. Megumi didn’t like it when you got mad, much less if you got mad at him. But he was doing the right thing, right? Or the closest thing to it.

When you got to the hotel, you both got ready for bed. Not a word was said. The bed in his room was spacious enough for two so you didn’t see a reason to ask for another room (plus you didn’t want Gojo on you if he happened to check your account, and you didn’t have enough cash). You laid down, facing away from him.

“Good night.” He mumbled, staring at your back. No answer. He waited patiently.

You squirmed in bed for a few minutes, until you finally gave in. Turning around, you placed a kiss on his cheek, then mumbled, “Good night.”

A smile broke on his face. He knew you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, and you didn’t like to go to bed while still being in a bad mood. You probably hated him sometimes for it.

He should’ve known better.

When he woke up, slowly opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the empty space beside him. That made him shoot up immediately. There was no way. No way did you sneak out while he was asleep. That was foul play. If there was a next time you acted this stubborn (unfortunately he was sure this wouldn’t be the last time), he would use Gama to restrain you the moment he saw you if necessary. He hurried to get ready and head out after you.

It's not until the afternoon when Megumi finds you, coming to a stop behind a fence while it looks like some sort of competition’s about to start on the field. Just for a moment, he’s able to blend both of you in with your surroundings. He imagines he’s there to meet with you, you’re just like any other girl at this normal school on a normal day. It’s a little easier this time since you’re not wearing the Jujutsu High uniform, instead you don a simple, practical outfit (since you’re on a mission and practically trespassing. No need for extra attention.) but that nonetheless suits you very well. Your hair, now long again, flows softly behind you with the light breeze like a soft, dark veil. There’s a hair tie on your wrist for later when you start to feel like it gets on the way but for now he enjoys your serene look.

Of course, you notice him right away and smile innocently at him. He stares for a little longer, your smile drowning him down further but he forces himself out back to reality. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“I’m older than you. You can’t be ordering me around.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You brought up that lame excuse any chance you got. It was just an eleven day difference.

“It’s not too late to go back and avoid making this bigger than it is.”

You brushed him off, “Focus.”

Like that’s not what he’d been trying to do this whole time.

You looked ahead towards the field, “There’s cursed energy shooting from all directions. That thing’s sure around here.”

“I can tell that much.” He stared at you, not being able to push down his worry. “How long have you been using your technique?”

“Since I got here this morning.” You brought your index to your chin in thought, “Which makes it... Past 7 hours?”

“Go back to the hotel and rest until I’m done here.”

“Relax, I can hold it up for a little longer.”

Before he could go on ranting about how this wasn’t necessary and how he’d have to deal with your headache too, or worse, your body could give up on you leaving you all crumpled on the floor, chants of someone’s name brought your attention back to the field. Just in time to see a pink haired boy send a heavy metal ball flying through the air as if pitching a baseball , caving the edge of the soccer goal and lodging there.

“That was insane. He could kill someone with that.” You turned to Megumi, seeing him equally impressed. Then you gasped, swaying a little in place before Megumi brought his hands up to stabilize you.

“What is it?”

“I’m fine I just- I felt something stronger. Coming closer.” Your head began to hurt.

“I told you to drop it.” He gruffed. Then he heard hurried steps behind you. Megumi turned just in time to see the boy from earlier zoom past him and he froze. An immense wave of curse energy stood out from the rest all of a sudden, there and then gone.

The boy.

“Go after him!” You closed your hands around the wire fence.

“Stay here.” He said firmly before doing so, calling Ijichi-san so he could stay with you.

You turned your attention back towards the building.

What is it they had in this place?

You had some time to rest as you waited for Megumi, but not a call came in.

It’s been almost three hours since he left.

Something was off. If that boy had anything to do with the cursed object they had to retrieve, Megumi would’ve been done with it soon enough. But the curse energy presence that irradiated from him was so strong. There was no way you were wrong.

Unless you somehow were.

“Do you feel that?” You said to Ijichi-san, pushing away from your leaning position against the side of the car. “There’s a curse-. No. More.”

His worried look mirrored yours but you’d already ignored too many instructions. “You can’t go in there.”

But what was it to ignore one more?

“I’m sorry Ijichi-san.” You said before running towards the building.

Megumi’s phone vibrated on his hand as he ran alongside Itadori towards the school. You both had only picked up a trace. The curse object was still at the school in the hands of a couple students that didn’t know what they were dealing with. If they had already broken its weakened seal, they were as good as dead.

“Ijichi-san.” He answered between hurried breaths. , “Is y/n okay?”

“I’m sorry, Fushiguro-kun.” He paused and Megumi felt fear start to bubble up inside him. “She went inside the school.”

“We’re on our way.” With that the call ended, “We need to hurry.” He told the boy as he kept pushing his legs to go faster, “Fuck!”

Inside the school, you managed to grab hold of a terrified girl and drag her away from a curse’s clutches. You’d lost sight of the boy that was with her amidst all the chaos.

“Hey, hey, I’ll need you to breathe, okay? I’ll get us out of here alive but I need you to tell me where that thing you were keeping is.” You whispered to her, grabbing onto her shoulders. You could hear the curse spirit creeping and growling just on the other side of the wall that was hiding you from view.

There was something behind you. You turn to see the boy, a curse trying to swallow him. Then something else just next to you, and next thing you knew it was grabbing you. The girl screamed as another took hold of her. There were too many. It seemed as if they were springing out of nowhere.

Using your technique, you started to drain its cursed energy just until you were able to reach for your daggers. You stabbed it right in its middle and it let you go, enabling you to reach for the rest of your weapons and hit it until it was exorcised. You took down another using just the new boost of curse energy coursing through your body.

You looked for the curse at the end of the hall, the one that had grabbed hold of the boy and the girl. You couldn’t risk using your daggers, could you? If you did so and landed a hit, it would be a powerful one, but if you missed and hit one of the students… No way.

You felt something familiar then.

Megumi.

“I know you’re mad but we have a bigger problem right now.”

“You’re so hearing it later.”

What could you do? Megumi was just as lost as you. That thing was trying to swallow those two along with the cursed object. If that happened they really were screwed.

The sound of glass breaking made you both turn towards the window, the pink haired boy jumping in.

“Itadori!”

“What the hell is he doing here?!”

Just like his strength demonstration earlier in the day, with a powerful punch, he got the cursed spirit to release the two students.

That shut you up. “Well, that does it.”

Megumi’s divine dogs took care of the rest.

“Apparently there’s not enough stubborn people around.” He glared at you as he walked over to the boy named Itadori. “Good job.”

“Good job to you too.” you cooed at the two doggies while they ate the curse and you retrieved your daggers.

You heard the boy laugh, “Who’s she? And what are those?”

“Someone who's not supposed to be here.” you rolled your eyes. “Those are my shikigami. You can see them?” Itadori nodded.

“The girl too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too then. Megumi had to bite back a smile at the sound. He was still mad at you. “Just so you know I’m entirely human.”

“Oh.”

Megumi proceeded to explain to a strangely calm Itadori a little about the curse spirits. You turned around having collected the last of your daggers, and just as Itadori was about to hand over the cursed object to Megumi, its unnerving pressure starting to make your head hurt and ears ring, you perceived another thing.

“We have to get out of here fast!” You rushed over, all eyes on you and you barely had time to give Megumi a nudge before he looked up and decided what his next move would be.

“Go!” His divine dogs were helping you and Itadori move the other two away in a beat, letting the curse crash down on him.

“Fushiguro!” “Megumi!” Both of you cried out. You tried to stand up but stumbled. The constant turning on and off of your technique had worn you down, adding all the time you’d used it today. The couple of hours you took to rest weren’t nearly enough.

That thing threw Megumi against the wall, the impact knocking the air out of him. You saw blood. The shikigami were released. This was bad. You couldn’t give in now.

“You okay?” Itadori eyed you worrily.

“I’m fine, I need to help Megumi. Stay here.”

“I’m helping t-”

“Please. You’ve done enough. I’ll worry about you too.” You risked a smile, fighting over your agitation, as if to tell him,

I’ll be fine.

“I’ll see you later. Stay back!” And you hurried after them. Jumping out of the hole that thing had made through the wall, you landed on top of it, one dagger in each hand digging into its body. It wailed and tried to shake you off. It succeeded, but you quickly released more of your daggers and landed a couple more hits before making contact with the ground.

No, no, no, no. Megumi’s head was throbbing and he couldn’t focus. His hopes of you finally listening to him vanished when he saw you jumping out at the cursed spirit. You did manage to hurt him before it sent you flying, rolling over the floor.

“Y/n!”

“I’m okay!” you choked out in pain.

“Get away!” He knew there was panic in his voice. His throat hurt with it. He’s barely keeping it together now when Itadori follows through where you came from and attacks the cursed spirit. Why does no one listen to him?

Megumi warns him but can’t keep him from doing the stupidest thing. He swallows the cursed object.

Ew.

You gag.

He couldn’t be serious.

You both stare in a mix of disbelief, anticipation and dread (and a little disgust to be honest).

Either the boy dies from swallowing that poison, or-

His mind stops racing with the possible outcomes and their consequences as he watches the curse get torn to pieces.

Itadori’s body is now the vessel of the king of curses, Ryōmen Sukuna.

He watches and listens in horror to its speech. Meanwhile, you were silently moving towards it. Its back is facing you, and like most seems totally unaware of your presence. The chances of dying have always been high, even more so today. So you’ll take one more chance. Your eyes meet his for just one second. You always loved his eyes. If this goes wrong and you really end up dying tonight, you hope to at least give Megumi an opening to escape and live.

Megumi’s scream gets stuck in his throat and he can’t do anything as your hand makes contact with what once was Itadori’s body.

Your vision is filled by pure, unadulterated darkness. Screams in fear and laments fill your head. Your skin burns and your blood boils. It’s like a lightning strike, as bright as the white beam of cursed energy that crackles at the point of contact. The shock is so great it sends you out flying once again. But this time you don’t say anything, your body’s limp on the floor.

All there’s left is white noise.

Sukuna turns towards you. It expects to be mad but instead finds itself perplexed that you even dared to touch it. Impressed, even. Though you barely made a mark on it, just a numb stinging where your hand had been. Before something else can happen, it finds itself stumbling backwards, the rightful owner of the body taking over.

“Huh? Fushiguro?”, Itadori brings a hand up to his head, “Where’s um-” He thinks of the name he’d heard Megumi say before, “Wh-Where’s y/n?” When he turns and spots you lying on the ground, unmoving, he’s scared. “Oh god-” He doesn’t get to take a step before Megumi’s yelling at him.

“Don’t move!” His voice breaks at the end. His body is trembling out of anger, fear, he doesn’t know, but still takes his stance. “You’re no longer human. Under jujutsu regulation, Yūji Itadori, I will now exorcise you as a curse!”

________

It had been 5 days since the incident at Yūji’s school, and Megumi found himself now at your bedside at the hospital.

You still hadn’t woken up.

That night while he was raking his scattered brain for what decision to make, Gojo had arrived. He’d run over to you then, dropping to his knees. He could barely see anything because of the tears blurring his vision. He tried to control his ragged breathing while he checked for your pulse. A heavy gasp of relief left him when he found it, a little weak but there nonetheless. His hands were on your face as his eyes tried to look everywhere at once to guess how bad you’d been hurt. There was a trickle of blood running down your nose, bruises at the side of your head, but the most noticeable injury was on your left arm, starting from your hand. There were open gashes on your palm as if it had been sliced with a knife, and from there up to your elbow, crooked lines that looked like burns.

When Gojo had finished evaluating the situation with Itadori/Sukuna, Megumi turned to them to find his teacher holding onto the unconscious boy. Apparently Itadori could control Sukuna, so his teacher had asked him what they should do. Yūji seemed nice. Hell, he’d done such a stupid thing looking to save them. So he’d ask Gojo if he could save him.

He’d broken down after. Repeating that it was his fault you’d been hurt, that he should’ve given you out the night before. He’d thought Gojo would be more upset. And he was very worried, but he’d told Megumi she’d made her choice, that while fighting curses they wouldn’t always be together and that he couldn’t protect her all the time. It’s not like she’d allow it either. And she was also very strong and could hold her own. If they were lucky you’ll push through one more time.

He just couldn’t resist you, could he?

So he’d tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault alone. It was yours for what you did to him.

They’d tended to him quickly enough. He’d hit his head pretty hard, and had come out with several bruises and cuts all over his body and face. Rest was recommended but he would not stay away from you.

On your second day at the hospital, you’d gotten a high fever. For a moment you’d gained a little consciousness but he wasn’t sure if that’d been for the better or worse. The scene of your sweaty body twisting in what seemed like agony, groaning and moaning in pain had only shook him more. That whole night you’d been restless with what seemed like nightmares. You’d scream, and he’d rush back into the room, having had to step out earlier. He’d clasped your hand, lost as to what else to do but repeating over and over that you were fine and he was right there with you. It lasted a little more until it was finally over.

Suddenly he’d felt that tingly sensation from when your cursed technique was active. He recognized it. You’d explained it to him. You could activate it without means to “steal” the cursed energy, but to feel it, which took you little to no effort or strain, so it didn’t affect you or the other party at all. It felt like goosebumps all over his body. It wasn’t unpleasant. Just a little weird. You’d said to him that feeling his calmed you down. He stayed the entire night there with you, watching your now peaceful features, at your hand linked with his, the subtle white glow radiating from them giving him a little hope.

Now, he thought about your visits to Tsumiki.

“Tsumikiii! We’re here!”

“Keep it down!” He’d scold.

“C’mon, don’t be rude. Say hi.”

If he talked to you like that, wouldn’t it make it more final? Was he accepting the idea of you staying like that for who knows how long?

He wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

For a while he’d feared that maybe there was a curse lurking around him. It was starting to feel more real with each day it passed.

Please not you too.

“Hey,” his own voice caught him off guard. It sounded hoarse, his throat dry. “You can hear me, right?”

“The other day, you knew it was me. You did that thing.” He rambled. “There’s no other reason. So you were right.” He let out a wet chuckle. “Maybe Tsumiki might be able to hear us. Well, mostly you. You’re the one that talks more.”

“You’re going to wake up soon, right?”

He waited for another sign.

Sighing, he brushed the wetness from his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform after minutes passed without anything. He stood up. He had to go meet with Gojo and Yūji.

Before stepping away, he leaned over to leave a kiss at the crown of your head. “I’ll be right back.” He whispered before breaking away.

They got the call right before Yūji headed out to pack his stuff.

“It’s y/n.” A smile like Gojo had ever seen took over Megumi’s face, “She’s awake.”

“Really? That’s great!” The pink haired boy cheered. He’d also been worrying about what happened with you, feeling guilty for it. And you’d tried to protect him. The day he’d gone to see you at the hospital he’d seen how bad you’d gotten for a moment and the worry on Megumi’s face. You two seemed really close and it was clear you cared deeply for each other, recalling back seeing you while cursed spirit fighting.

Gojo’s soft smile was another sight.

Yet he had to ruin it.

“Did you kiss our little y/n-chan?”

“What?!” The color coming up from Megumi’s neck up to his ears was a nice change to the ghostly pale of the last few days, alive with new light. So was the scandalous yet funny look on his face. “How did you-”

“You did?!”

When you heard footsteps outside your door you turned towards it.

The first to approach you was Gojo, ruffling your hair affectionately. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid.”

What was he going to do with you?

You pulled his blindfold down. You were probably the only person able to get away with that. “Happy to see you too.”

“You won’t be so happy soon.” At that you grimaced. You knew you wouldn’t get out of this unscathed.

You then noticed Megumi standing near the doorway and your smile grew brighter if that was possible. Megumi was doing no better than you. In fact, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Should he hug you? Should he yell at you?

Did you kiss her?

The teasing words from Gojo earlier got to him again somehow and he felt his face grow hot. You stared a little astounded at his blushing face.

Damn. He must be really angry.

“Hey.” You settled with, suddenly shy.

Another voice called for you, getting you to look away, “Y/n!”

“Itadori?” You stared at him, surprised, “How did you-?” You looked around for an explanation.

“Oh, that guy? It’s okay. I got it under control.”

“So it’s still…?”

“Yeah. It’s really annoying though. It just called me annoying. And said that it’s glad to see you again.”

“Is it really?” You said with a grimace. That was… something. “How should I take that?”

“I’d say it’s quite disconcerting.” Megumi muttered, finally speaking up.

“It says you have guts daring to touch it. It’s thinking whether to kill you or not the next time it gets a chance.” Yūji opened his eyes comically wide then frowned. “No you won’t. There will be no next time.”

You scoffed, “I’m surprised it’s thinking about it.”

“It says you’re funny.”

“This is quite an unsettling conversation .” You chuckled, then continued, something else nagging at you,“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” you worried.

“Not really. It felt funny where you touched me, and it was red for a while but now it’s gone.” He pushed down one sleeve of his t-shirt to reveal his shoulder. True to his word, there was no sign of injury. Then he turned to you again, his eyes downcast, looking at your arm, “I’m sorry about your arm though.”

“Oh I’m fine.” You lifted your arm just a tad bit. You were still a little stiff and it hurt a little. It’ll probably scar but you were lucky it hadn’t been ripped off clean.

“Okay, we should let the girl rest before we head off.” Gojo dismissed the group.

“Oh, that’s right! I’m coming with you guys!” Itadori told you before he waved goodbye and exited the room, Gojo following him but lagging seeing that Megumi didn’t move.

“Don’t be too hard on her if you’re staying, Megumi.” And with that he was out too.

You looked down at your lap, entertaining yourself tracing a finger over the new scars on your left arm.

You felt his arms wrap around you delicately, afraid he might hurt you. He rested his head on top of yours. Your eyes widened, bringing a hand up tentatively to hold onto him. “Welcome back.”

He could wait a little longer to scold you.

You laughed, and pulled away. Lifting both your hands to cup his cheeks, your soft gaze met his eyes. You got to see them again after all.

“I love your eyes.”

He pouted. “I know. You’ve told me like, a thousand times.” Although it wasn’t the first time you did that, he had to break eye contact for a moment, entertaining himself looking at the monitor beside your bed. Your heartbeat was a little fast. That was good, he thought. Nothing like that night on the rooftop.

____________

Around eleven in the a.m., Megumi was on his way to the medical wing of Jujutsu High to go see you. He’d fallen asleep heavy as a rock for once in his own bedroom. He was dressed in the school’s uniform. Soon, Itadori, Gojo and him would head out to pick up the new, fourth first year student.

He knocked on the door.

“Just a minute!” you answered, and he heard you groan.

“What are you doing?” His voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door.

At your lack of answer, he pushed open the door. There you were, up in the middle of the room with your back towards him. And struggling to put on your tee shirt. He stopped.

“Megumi what the hell?!”

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Not that you could see, but his eyes grew wider. Stuttering in place, he still laughed nervously, watching how your head was stuck inside the shirt. For one point it was good, for your face was burning in embarrassment .“Do you need help?”

“No! Just wait outside or-or turn around!” Finally, your face was out through the hole of the shirt, yet you held back another groan trying to lift your arm.

“I really can’t see anything. Let me help you.” It was true. You had bandages around your middle, your chest almost entirely covered. He walked the short distance between you and stepped right behind you. Megumi couldn’t help but stare at the red, purples and blues on your skin, some of the bruises peeking out of the bandages. Delicately, he brought his hand up to help put your arms through your shirt. You made a little noise of complaint as he lifted your left arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You sighed. His fingers hovered over your skin as he gently pulled the fabric in place and then when he brought his hands up again to untuck your damp hair out of it. “Thank you.”

He nodded when you turned around to face him. “Does it hurt a lot?” He worried.

You shook your head “Only bothers me when I try to raise it up.”

“Why didn’t you have someone help you out?”

“I just wanted to shower.” You countered. “Was five days out. I totally needed one.” You added with a grimace.

At that Megumi chuckled. You smiled at him, then noticed his attire, “Do you have something to do today? I thought you still had to rest.”

“We’re just picking up the other first year.”

“That was today? Why didn’t you say so? Now I have to get out of this thing and put on the uniform.”

“You’re staying here.” Megumi stated.

“What? But I want to greet her! And-And walking would do me good.”

“You’ll greet her once we get here. You can walk around campus. Either that or I’ll lock you up, and you’ll have to settle on going around in circles in this room.” He threatened.

“Are you still mad? It’s not even cursed fighting this time. We’re just picking her up.”

“Yeah, like with the talisman.” He said sarcastically, then sighed. “I’m not mad just- Would you listen to me this time?” He practically pleaded, looking you in the eye.

You wondered if he looked at you like that on purpose. “Fine.” you gave in. “Guess you’re right this time.”

“You really mean it? You’re not sneaking out of here?”

You chuckled, “Fine, fine! I’m really staying.” You held your pinky up, and he linked his with yours. “Promise.”

Megumi smiled wide this time, eyes crinkling at the corners. You sat on the bed for a little while longer and Megumi helped you brush your hair.

The time to go came soon enough with Itadori looking for him, waving at you from the doorway.

“And by the way, I was right both times.” He said to you before turning to leave.

Kugisaki Nobara had a strong personality, unafraid of giving a piece of her mind. Both Yūji and Megumi found out fairly soon, falling under her judgment. But she was good and handled herself well while curse fighting. Just the right amount of crazy. Maybe a little more too.

When they were done with her test, and she and Yūji argued over where to go for dinner, Megumi got back to thinking about you and wondered what you were doing.

“Fushiguro!” He was snapped back to the present by her. “What do you think?”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you were saying.”

“He’s probably thinking about y/n.” Yūji didn’t really mean for it to sound like teasing but it was done. Fushiguro glared at him.

“Oh. Who’s that?” Nobara asked curiously, turning to look at Megumi now.

“She’s a first year too.”

“There’s another one? And she’s a girl? Oh thank God!”

“That sounded a little too happy.” Yūji muttered.

“Why did she leave me here with just you two?”

“You’re being really mean, you know?”

“She stayed back resting. Got injured on a mission.” Megumi explained.

“But she’s alright now. She’s pretty great.” Yūji chimed in excitedly.

“And she’s your girlfriend?”

“What? No!” Megumi denied shaking his head. The color on his cheeks didn’t help him much though.

“But you said you kissed her yesterday?” Itadori asked more than stated, confused. “Isn’t that right, Gojo sensei?” He turned towards the man, walking a little ahead to give the kids space but still at earshot.

“Just like Sleeping Beauty.”

“It really was! She finally woke up after it!” Itadori chuckled.

Megumi tried to get a word in. Those two really were blowing things out of proportion.

“You kissed her while she was unconscious? You perv!” The girl right about smacked him.

“I didn’t!” The poor boy rubbed his upset cheek. He ducked his head. Thanks to those guys, they’d called the attention of a few passersby. “I just kissed her head! I told you that!” He hissed.

“Oh. Right.”

When they finally got back to campus, they spotted you in the school garden, sitting under the same tree where you met Megumi for the first time. You heard Itadori’s cheery voice call you and turned to see him coming with Nobara by his side, following Gojo. Then your eyes met Megumi’s, who kept walking away. He looked upset. You stood up, brushing the dirt off your clothes.

“Kugisaki Nobara, this is y/l/n y/n. Y/l/n y/n, this is Kugisaki Nobara.” Gojo went ahead with his flashy introduction, making you giggle. “I’ll let you kids get to know each other.” He ruffled your hair playfully before waving to the other two and leaving.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You smiled at her.

“I so wanted to meet you too.” She returned the smile. You already liked her. And she was pretty too, you noticed looking at her pale skin, light brown eyes and her brown hair styled in a bob.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go pick you up.” You said, not being able to help feeling self conscious under her stare, that went up and down and back up to your arm. You tucked your arms behind you.

“It’s okay. The boys told me about what happened.” She brushed you off understandingly. “They actually talked a lot about you.”

“They did?” You looked at Yūji who immediately straightened up.

“Just nice things! It’s not like there are bad things, is it? Plus I just met you a few days ago.” Itadori said sheepishly. You smiled.

“And Fushiguro didn’t lie either. You’re so pretty! Your hair! Can I touch it?”

“Megumi?” you felt your heartbeat take a quicker rhythm as your face started to warm up. “Oh, sure…” You answered her question and she brushed her hands gently through it. “By the way, is Megumi okay?”

Nobara halted.

“We probably teased him too much.” The boy grimaced, exchanging a look with Nobara.

“Is that it? Then he’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure them. “I do it all the time. And Gojo- Gojo sensei too. He’ll just need to get used to it. It’s sure gonna be even more lively around here.” You smiled.

That evening, a furry visitor came into your room.

“Oh hello, you handsome.” You cooed at Kuro, crouching down to scratch the back of its ears as it wagged its tail happily. There was a small bag hanging from its collar. “Whatcha got there?”

You took the bag and looked inside to find a small box. When you opened it, you saw they were sweets. You smiled, setting it aside to pet the dog, ruffling the hair around its head. “Well thank you. You know where Megumi is?”

Megumi smiled before pushing himself from the wall and entering the room. “Hey.”

“Hey.” you looked up, smiling back.

“I thought I’d bring you something since you couldn’t come with us.” Megumi explained, bringing a hand up to his neck. He seemed suddenly nervous about something.

“How’d it go with Yūji and Nobara?”

“They’re fine. Gojo got their hopes up about going sightseeing and we ended up dealing with a cursed spirit.” You chuckled at that.

“They seem like they’re very good.” You agreed, nodding. “We chatted for a while…” You trailed off seeing he was still not looking at you. “Are you okay?” You stood up, Kuro looking to get back your attention.

That finally made him turn to look at you, worried gaze looking for his.

Megumi felt his skin get warmer, hands getting clammy. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he was able to start talking, “Listen, about the kiss-It wasn’t like that-”

“Kiss? Wh-What kiss?”

Oh.

He fucked up.

Megumi was sure that those two would somehow bring it up to you too. He thought you were just going to pretend like you didn’t know. Turns out you didn’t know at all and he’d made it sound like there was something worth mentioning in the first place.

“You kissed someone? Who?” You spoke up after minutes passed in silence. Saying that felt weird, but not good weird. It was only because Megumi had never mentioned anyone. That was the only reason. Or so you told yourself.

“You. I mean I didn’t- Gosh this is Gojo’s fault.” Frustratedly, Megumi brushed his hands over his face.

A kiss, a kiss, a kiss. Since yesterday that’s all he’s been able to think about.

Meanwhile you stared at him frozen and wide eyed, internally panicking. “You kissed me? When- What the fuck. Megumi, I need you to tell me what are you talking about.”

“I didn’t kiss you like that. It was just a kiss to your head.” He breathed out a sigh.

“Oh.”

Then to his surprise, you started laughing. “Is that why you were all moody earlier?”

“I wasn’t moody.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze, cheeks burning.

“You wanted to?”

“What?” His voice came out a beat late, weaker than intended.

“To kiss me. Did you want to?” You asked again, taking advantage of whatever had possessed you at that moment, half teasing half serious. What were you even asking? And why?

Megumi met your eyes again. He couldn’t tell if you were actually serious. Then he dared to look at your lips.

He shook his head. “Not like that.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. “What do you mean?”

“If I wanted to kiss someone I wouldn’t do it while they’re unconscious. Especially if it were for the first time and we weren’t even together.”

You smiled softly, nodding.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You walked over to him. Cupping his face, he leaned down for you to place a kiss at the crown of his head just like he’d done so. “There.” You looked at him, eyes shining. He was sure his eyes were looking at you in the same way. “Now let’s eat up those sweets.”

________

For the next week, you’re not able to train with the other first years. Instead, you’re left to do exercises to help you recover. Megumi is there to help you when he’s done with his own training. But when you’re back, you’re able to see your classmates' abilities. As you already knew, Yuuji is stupidly, naturally strong. He’s not even using cursed energy yet.

He’s your first opponent.

“I’m not sure I want to hit you…” Itadori says unsure as he comes to stand in front of you. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“You should worry about yourself, Itadori.” Megumi comments, a small smile threatening to take over his features when you turn to look at him with a playful grin of your own.

“What?” That puts Itadori on alert. Next thing he knows is you’re going at him, and he manages to lift his arms just in time to cover his face. “Whoah!”

Nobara explains to you her cursed technique since you weren’t there to watch her during her test. Since yours is trickier to show, you wait to show her until the end, when you’re all done sparring each other.

Finally it’s your turn to face Megumi. The other two watch as you try to land a hit on each other. You look so comfortable, used to each other’s movements. It’s more like you’re dancing instead of trying to fight each other, so in sync. At last, you manage to swiftly swipe Megumi off his feet and he lands on his back. He lets out a groan as you get on top of him to pin him down, laughter bubbling up your throat. He looks up at you and grins before he frees himself and turns you both around. You let out a squeal now that your back hits the ground. It’s his turn to laugh, both of your chests heaving.

Megumi stares at your face, your eyes bright staring up at him, face flushed and slightly sweaty because of all the time you’ve been training, very much like he is (his hair’s falling down over his forehead at this point). You’re just strikingly beautiful to him. And he finds that he really wants to kiss you now. The thought paralyzes him. He knows his guard is down, and he’s begging inside for you to move before he’s overcome by whatever is shifting inside of him, gives and leans in.

The other two share a look.

It kinda feels wrong to be watching you two.

But the thought comes and goes as they quickly turn again to the scene in front of them, not wanting to miss anything. (They’re barely breathing in anticipation).

Then you’re saying something. Megumi can’t hear anything though. His eyes trailed down to your lips the moment they moved and he can’t seem to stop from shamelessly staring.

“Megumi?” you repeat.

“Hmm?” Just a noise is all he’s able to let out to let you know he’s listening now.

“I asked if it’s okay for you to help me show Kugisaki my technique.”

He’s back in the gym where they’re practicing.

“Yes.” He nods, staring back at your eyes. He doesn’t move.

“Maybe let me go?” You chuckle nervously.

Megumi’s cheeks burn by having to be called out and he quickly nods, moving to help you into a sitting position and brushing any possible dirt off you before kneeling in front of you.

You call Nobara and Itadori over. They’re sporting very disappointed expressions that you’re totally oblivious of. That’s until you mention what you’re about to do and they forget all about the scene they’d just witnessed, all excited. Yuji hadn’t gotten to see what your technique was yet.

“It’s not really that exciting.” You tell them, suddenly bashful for the attention before turning to Megumi.

He nods, letting you know he’s ready. You focus, the bright flow of cursed energy flowing through Megumi’s body coming to your vision. You avoid the points where it concentrates the most since it’s just for a quick demonstration. You settle on bringing a hand up to the right side of his chest, gently but firm.

Megumi’s heart pounds on his chest as he watches you intently, just like the other two do as if he’s too witnessing it for the first time. There’s grey in your eyes now, the dark brown replaced briefly for silver, and white shiny light begins to glow from under your hand. He feels the fuzzy feeling again. You hear someone gasp besides yourself, and are reminded to stop before you overdo it.

“Holy shit, y/n, you’re glowing!” The difference from this to someone who's using cursed energy defensively to protect their body, is that there’s no cursed energy surrounding you and the light’s coming from within you still. You don’t react, unable to concentrate on anything but Megumi and what you’re doing.

You smile at the boy before placing your hand to his chest again, reverting what you did. When you stop, the giddy sensation leaves him with your touch. Then you’re back to normal.

“Are you okay?” You always make sure he is. He nods, not missing the touch of your fingertips for long as you bring your hand up to his cheek now.

“That was so cool. Your eyes-!” Nobara starts but cuts herself off.

“Me next! Me next!” Yuuji bounces excitedly. Megumi gets hold of your hands. You look at him and before you turn to Yuuji again to gently explain why you have to decline his wish, Megumi beats you to it.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

The pink haired boy pouts, “Why not?”

“You don’t have control of your cursed energy yet. It might hurt you. And even then, y/n might get in touch with Sukuna’s again.”

You can only nod, Megumi taking the words out of your mouth. Itadori stares down at your arm, and so do you before taking it out of Megumi’s hold and hiding it away. The boy frowns at your action.

“Oh. right.” Yuji nods quickly in understanding.

“Well,” you hurry to break away the uncomfortable atmosphere of being the center of attention for too long, “We’re done for today, right? Let’s go grab some drinks”.

__________

It was a free day, and you’d all made plans to go shopping. Well, Nobara wanted to go shopping, Itadori wanted to go to the movies and Megumi was just tagging along. You didn’t mind shopping and actually wanted to buy a couple things. Also you wanted to spend some time with your friends just hanging out for a change.

“So, is Gojo sensei like your dad or something?” Itadori asked. You didn’t know what brought this topic of conversation.

“Please do not say that in front of him.” Somewhere in Japan, Gojo sneezed.

“Why not? He’s awesome!”

“Definitely don’t say that in front of him either.”

“I mean, yeah. I guess.” you spoke fondly, “He’s been taking care of me- of us since we’re little.” But what would he think if he heard you say something like this?

When you got to the shopping district, you were dragged from store to store, both boys following you and chatting between themselves.

“What about this one?” Nobara showed you another outfit. You nodded. She had a keen fashion sense. And a lot of bags already, apart from the ones the boys were holding, seating at the front while they waited. “You’re not trying on anything?” She wondered.

“Oh, no.” you dismissed her, “I already got some stuff.”

You’d bought a couple of sunglasses and some arm sleeves. It was getting hot to keep wearing long sleeve shirts all the time to hide your scars.

“But I’m talking about clothes.” Nobara whined. “If you don’t buy some I’ll have to give you some of what I got. And I don’t want to.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re my style either.”

Then, she spotted something behind you. “That’s perfect!”

“What is it?” you smiled at her eagerness, turning to follow her line of sight. It was a very pretty black midi dress. Sleeveless, heart shaped neckline, layered skirt that bunched up nicely.

“You have to try it on!” She practically shoved the dress into your hands and pulled you along with her towards the fitting rooms.

“What am I even gonna use it for? Curse fighting?”

“Don’t be silly. You can use it whenever. Like, next time we hang out.”

You hadn’t worn a dress in so long, probably since you were little and Gojo bought you clothes after taking you in. You remembered that day. It was one of your favorites. He’d brought Megumi and Tsumiki too.

As she shoved you inside the small room and was making her way to another herself, she stopped at the door. At that moment, the little devil on her shoulder popped up.

Megumi’s phone vibrated. Kugisaki was calling.

He picked it up.

“What is it?”

“We need your opinion on something. Wait outside the fitting rooms.”

“You need both of us…?”

“Just you is okay.”

She hung up.

“Hold this.” He threw more bags Itadori’s way, the poor boy practically buried in his seat on them.

“Where are you going!”

You stared at your reflection in the mirror. It really was a perfect dress. Turning slightly from side to side, you watched the skirt move lightly. You opened the door to show Nobara but she didn’t seem to be done yet.

“Nobara?”

“Y/n?” you heard Megumi’s voice just outside.

“Megumi? What is it?” You turned the corner that led to the front.

Even if Megumi wanted to tell you right away a list of compliments, he couldn’t. You looked breathtaking. You watched his eyes go wide as he stared at you up and down. You laughed, bashful, fidgeting with your hands behind your back and swaying a little in place to show off the dress. “I know, I told Nobara it was too much. You needed something?”

“No- Kugisaki- I mean. It’s just right, you look-” Nobara smiled from where she was eavesdropping, unable to witness the scene without being spotted by you but with a very clear picture of Megumi’s reaction in her head.

“Whoah! You look beautiful, y/n!” Yuuji appeared, beaming at you and somehow lifting his very occupied hands to give you a thumbs up. Megumi mentally kicked himself for blundering, seeing you now blushing over Yuji’s compliment. If only he’d been able to speak, he would’ve earned that reaction from you. Nobara facepalmed. “You think so too, right, Fushiguro?” He added, flashing a knowing grin at his friend who was probably blushing harder than you.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, boys.”

Then tragedy happened. Yuji lost hold of one of the bags and as he fumbled to get hold of it again, he succeeded. Only that the bag opened and one shirt hit the ground.

You all froze, then Megumi reacted, picking up the shirt. Nobara wasn’t there. She wouldn’t notice.

You were wrong.

Maybe it was a sixth, or seventh sense, she heard the ruffle of the bags or the silence that followed was too loud. You didn’t know.

“You idiots!”

________

“How long have you liked Fushiguro?” You nearly choke on your water at that. Nobara and you were sitting on a bench next to the field outside, having been done practicing. Yuuji and Megumi were still at it, only because Yuji wouldn’t stop. “I’ve been meaning to ask for the past week but can’t seem to get those two out of our hair.”

You opened your mouth only for her to cut you off, “If you say you don’t like him I swear it’s bull.”

You closed it again, unsure of what to say now. When you were little kids, sure. It was true you had a little crush on Megumi. But it was just an innocent thing from back then. Right?

Bullshit.

Not so deep down you knew you’d fallen for him. You knew he loved you just like you loved him, but you didn’t think he’d want to change how things were between you. You were just a friend to him.

“He doesn’t love me like that.” you entertained yourself fiddling with your arm sleeve.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“He totally adores you. He looks at you like you hold the stars and the moon and the whole solar system.”

You chuckled. “Even if that were true, I don’t think he wants a girlfriend. Especially if it’s me. Not when we do what we do.”

“It is true. So what, you’re going to hold back just because you’re afraid? That’s a waste of time and worrying a whole lot about nothing.”

You looked over at Megumi, who, as if he could tell you were looking at him, turned and gave you a small smile. Yuji noticed him looking over at the two of you and waved animatedly.

Nobara’s eyes softened looking at you, “He’s right there right now, you know?”

___________

Itadori Yūji was dead.

There’d been a mission. The sudden apparition of a cursed womb above Eishu Detention Center gave you no option but for you four to go tend to it, no sorcerer on par with a possible special grade curse available.

Another special grade in what? Three weeks?

The goal of the mission was to rescue five inmates that were still inside the second building. After, you’d head out. One instruction was clear:

Do not engage in a fight.

Yet right now, Megumi and Yuji were arguing. You’ve come into the second building and noticed things were very wrong right away. For a moment you were also trapped, but thanks to Megumi’s divine dogs you could find your way out of what looked like an Innate Domain. The gruesome sight of three mutilated bodies on the floor as you stepped further in only increased the tension.

“I know you’re keen on this idea of saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths. But think, how are you going to feel when someone you save goes on to kill someone else later?”

“So? Why’d you bother saving me then?”

“Guys! There’s-”

“You both need to cut it out!” Nobara lost it too, “Ugh! What the hell is wrong with the two of you?Are you both idiots?”

“Where’s Shiro? Megumi-”

“This is hardly the time and place to be acting like-”

“Nobara!” You tried to reach her just before a pool of darkness appeared and swallowed her up.

“Kugi…saki?” Itadori looked in your direction, meeting your scared expression. Then you gasped, bringing your hands up to your face, catching on to what Megumi was looking at. His divine dog had been destroyed.

“We have to run!”

It was too late. The cursed spirit appeared right between the two boys, and they froze in place.

Itadori snapped back first. He tried to attack the cursed spirit with Slaughter Demon but he didn’t get to, his hand getting severed and the dagger breaking in half.

“Yūji-!” You felt a sudden surge of cursed energy and your eyes widened. You created a shield with your own cursed energy just in time before the special grade sent a pure blast of it out, you being right in its line of shot. It sent you stumbling back, almost hitting the wall on the other side.

Itadori shouts your name. Megumi yanked him by his sleeve, trying not to trip over his own feet by trying to get to you as quickly as possible.

“You okay?” You nodded hastily as they helped you back to your feet, still checking if you weren’t hurt.

“Yūji, your hand-”

“We need to split up.” Itadori says, daring a glance at the special grade. It seemed to be taunting you. “Give you guys time to find Nobara and get out of here.”

“We can’t stay! We’re not supposed to fight it!” Megumi yelled.

“We don’t have too many options. It’s not like it’s going to let us run away.” You look at him.

“I can fight. Sukuna can.” Itadori corrects himself. “If I die, you die, right? So you’re helping.” He addresses it.

“You’re wrong, boy. I still have 18 other pieces of my soul out there.” Sukuna mocks. “Oh, well. I can’t control this body, so do whatever you want. Just know that I’ll kill the punk and his girl before that curse gets a chance, then find the other one and do the same to her.”

“I won’t let you do that.” Itadori says angrily.

“Keep focusing on me and you are all dying anyway.” Sukuna says before he falls silent.

“We can’t trust that guy. Let’s go!”

“You have to go.” Itadori insisted, looking at both of you. “I’ll keep it busy while you get Kugisaki and get out. Once you’re safe, give me some sort of signal.”

“You don’t stand a chance! Fighting that thing with one hand?!”

“I’ll stay back with him.” You spoke up and both turned to look at you.

“No way.” Megumi refused, shaking his head to emphasize his point. “You’re not staying here. None of you are.”

“You can’t stop me.” You said decidedly. “It’ll be fine. If he switches with Sukuna I’ll sit back. Find Kugisaki and we’ll meet you outside.”

Megumi shook his head again while you nodded, a hand on his cheek. “You better.”

But you didn’t. You tried to coordinate with Yūji, shielding him every time he’d go for a hit while you tried to get close to be able to touch it and steal its cursed energy. You managed to do so once, and that got you to hit it back with it while Yūji landed a good punch. It wasn’t nearly enough. After that, it was onto you, but you realized it too late. It seemed to have figured to get rid of you first, and deliberately left an opening. Just as you were about to touch it, it swiftly got out of range and brought down his claw-like hand slashing through your torso. The scream that left you felt like it cut your throat, piercing and filling Yūji with dread, before the curse let out another blast of cursed energy at him and he was shot backwards and away, you unable to protect him.

He didn’t hear you when you quickly called out his name. All Itadori could hear was a ringing in his ears that tried to muffle Megumi’s words. He was right. You should’ve left him. And now you might die because you wanted to protect him. And he was going to die too. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. He used to think he was strong. Strong enough to save himself, to save others. To choose how he was gonna go out.

“Yūji!” In a gap of clarity, he hears you cry out his name. “It’s Megumi’s signal!”

You’re still on the floor, dragging your body trying to hide out. There’s a hand holding your middle, you feel the blood trickle out in alarming amounts with every strained movement. Your breathing is heavy. You sense it before you turn towards it. You see the black marks on its skin and when he opens his eyes, they’re red. Yūji’s out.

It’s Sukuna.

You stop. Partly hoping he won’t perceive you if you stay as still as possible, partly because you’re dizzy now, tired and losing a lot of blood. It seems to be reflecting about something. Then it turns to you suddenly.

You’re pretty sure it’s pathetic, the way you drag yourself back and away from it. Then you reach the border, tiny pieces or rubble falling onto the abyss below. Yūji’s still there, you remember. If Sukuna tries something Yūji will switch back. So you turn from the void and hold its stare as firmly as you can with your swirling head.

“You’re pretty beaten up.” It leans down and brings a hand up to grab your chin. You flinch, holding back a whimper. “It’ll be no fun to kill you like this now. You might just die as it is.” It grins. Then an idea flashes through its mind. “Unless…”

“Hey, you.” He calls to the cursed spirit. Even it’d frozen. Now, scared, it launches an attack at Sukuna. “You’re not very smart, are you?” It harshly lets go of its hold on you, fully turning towards the curse, sneering.

There’s nothing you can do but watch as Sukuna finally takes on the cursed spirit. Only until he deploys his Domain Expansion. That’s when everything goes black.

Megumi succeeds in getting Nobara and himself out. When she’s safe with Ijichi, he stays behind. He’s just about to go back in there. What if Itadori can’t switch back? What happens to you? What if he took too long and you’re both dead?

Then he knows. The special grade must be dead. The Domain closed off. He’s hopeful that you and Itadori will come back safely. That is, until he senses something else. His breath gets stuck on his throat. Behind him. He quickly turns and everything crumbles to the ground.

Sukuna’s holding you in its arms. You’re unconscious, your head lulling uncomfortably down, a river of blood coming out from a wound on your torso. He can’t tear his eyes away from it.

“Relax, she’s still alive. Barely.” The curse speaks. “If it wasn’t for her, the brat would’ve died before he could’ve switched with me.”

“Itadori-”

“Oh he’s not coming back.” It smiles maliciously. “Really, I’m in such a good mood right now. You should focus on what’s important.” It really was enjoying the look on Megumi’s face, savoring the fear in it. “I could heal her.”

Megumi studied him. Itadori’s hand. He’d healed it and overall looked just fine. But you were different. Last time you’d gotten close to it you almost died. He looked at your pale face, the red pooling on the floor. You were dying right now. “Why would you do that?”

“Just for the hell of it.”

Sukuna laid you down on the floor with surprising gentleness for a curse. Ripping the already ruined side of your uniform, it placed a hand over your wound, and Megumi watched as it began to close. The action ripped a pained scream out of you, for a moment alarming the boy before you were out again. When he looked down, the wound was gone, only fine, faint scars as tell you were ever hurt.

Sukuna straightened up and Megumi rushed to kneel by your side. You were better now. You probably still needed to go to the hospital for further treatment. He looked up, “Itadori, you can switch up now-.”

So rude. “I told you, he’s not coming back. The brat had it coming for trying to use me without making some kind of deal. He’s having a little trouble taking control.”

“What are you-?”

Sukuna lifted a hand to bring through his chest, ripping Itadori’s heart out. ““I’m taking your friend hostage.” Then, it revealed another one of his fingers, swallowing it. The cursed spirit from back there should’ve had it. “For good measure. But I really don’t think he wants to die. You should’ve seen him crying back there.”

“Now that I’m free, and since I did you a favor, you get to entertain me for a while just until you die. Or I can kill her too. A pity, after all that. Then kill you.”

Next day, you deal with the aftermath.

You all try to take in that Yūji is really gone, that none of you were able to do something more to get him out too. You’re also upset about Shiro and Orochi, and even though Megumi grumbles that you know shikigami aren’t pets and not exactly dead, you know he’s upset about it too.

There’s another thing bothering you that will have to wait. But right now, you’re going to train with the seconds years, having to deal with an Exchange Event on top of it all.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Nobara took a drink of her water bottle, pausing for a moment after being thrown around by Panda. You were also stopping your reign of terror against poor Inumaki. He’d never seen you so aggressive before, even considered using his cursed speech to slow you down. Way to go spooking cute boys. “One of you should stop this routine of trying to sacrifice your lives for each other and confess that you’re in love instead.” Nobara didn’t want to wait.

You didn’t want to bring it up at the moment. You were busy, so you tried to brush her off. “How could we be thinking about that after what just happened?”

“You’re going to curse Itadori if you try to put this on him now.”

“Guess y/n’s been keeping you on your toes, Megumi.” You heard Maki talk to the boy as they sparred. “You’ve gotten better.” With a grin, she smoothly spun around, landing a hit with her spear square in Megumi’s chest, making him fall back onto the ground with force, “Still, I win.”

“God she is amazing.” Nobara fangirled while you nodded.

“Oi! You two come back here!” The second year called.

“We’re going to get our asses whipped.” You muttered before making your way to them.

After Maki gave you a beating -thankfully not as bad and disgraceful as the last time-, you practiced three against three. Rules were clear enough, or so everyone thought at first. First years against second years. Everything was valid as long as it didn’t end in needless injuries/threatened your lives.

That was, until Megumi had accidentally sent a punch your way, mistaking you for one of the second years. You’d managed to dodge it, but you’d snapped, and you were now aiming for him.

He raised his hands to block your punches, surprised at the fury behind them, “Hey, I’m sorry! I thought you were-What are you doing-!”

Everyone else stopped to watch, stunned by your not so sudden outrage. They’d noticed you’d been acting odd before but figured it had something to do with the outcome of yesterday’s mission. They weren’t entirely wrong.

All Megumi could do was dodge and try to parry you, lost as to the reason for your hostility. He got a grip on both of your forearms, finally restraining you, “Y/n what the hell?!”

You swiftly lowered yourself, one of your legs sticking out as you spun and took Megumi down.

Behind you, the others displayed a variety of reactions.

Nobara had her arms crossed, chin up, frowning at Megumi even though the boy couldn’t see it. That’s what you get. She resisted the urge of shouting at you to beat him up further.

Maki was grinning, someone might say a little wickedly, while inside she felt a little proud seeing the improvement of your movements.

Toge whistled, impressed (and thankful this time around he was not your target).

And Panda stared, jaw slack and like the others -except Nobara-, with no idea of what was happening.

“I should ask you that!” You scoffed, unamused, staring down at him. “What were you thinking?! Following a curse’s whim letting it heal me and then in exchange you fight it?!”

His eyes widened as he sat up, “You weren’t supposed to know that.”

“Yeah, because if it wasn’t bad enough already, you were also going to keep things from me.”

“How did you-”

“That’s not important!”

“I was thinking of saving you!” He shouted back, then his breath got caught when he noticed you were crying. He stood up, rushing over to you but you backed away.

“And what? You die instead? What’d make you think I’d be okay with that?”

“It could have killed me anyway.”

“Then we both died!” You exclaimed, “What if Yūji didn’t switch back when he did? It wouldn’t have been just him that I couldn’t do anything for.” Your voice broke, “I could’ve lost you too. You’d think you’d saved me but I’d be just as gone.”

You looked at him a moment longer, before you turned and hurried away.

Frustrated, Megumi debated whether to follow you or not. Of course you would be upset for what he did, but he’d meant it and was not going to apologize for doing whatever it took at that moment to not lose you. When you didn’t show up for lunch, he decided to at least make sure you ate something. There was no answer when he knocked on the door to your room. He thought you were just ignoring him when he called, so he opened it to find that you weren’t there.

You’d shut yourself in one of the empty classrooms, figuring that no one would show up there. Your stomach growled and you sighed, looking out the window with your head resting on top of your arms that were on top of your knees. You really should go eat something after all that training. You were starving.

Scuffing noises against the door startled you on your seat. Pushing your legs away from your chest, you slowly stood up and walked over to find the source of it.

The best delivery boy, Megumi’s divine dog, was at the other side of the door. You couldn’t help but chuckle as you crouched down to be at its level, a few stray tears falling. “This is so cheating, don’t you think?”

Love brought conflicting feelings. Even though you were upset, it still warmed your chest that Megumi gave you space while still being caring.

The students from Kyoto showed up, taking the opportunity of the principal coming over to go over the Exchange Event plans. It wouldn’t be a big deal, if it weren’t for their intentions of provoking them.

Nobara instantly got roped with Mai, Maki’s twin sister. You stood up to your friend’s side, wary of the second year. You gritted your teeth when she started talking about Yūji.

Then there was Aoi Todo.

With a question very off topic.

“What kind of woman’s your type?”

Is he for real?

“Yeah, Fushiguro, why don’t you tell us your type?” Nobara decided to join in, fighting a knowing grin to try and sound innocent. You knew better than that. You elbowed her.

Megumi, without really catching up to what he was doing, looked over at you. Your eyes widened for a second that you hope wasn’t enough for him to notice before he turned to the third year. Aoi had noticed this little interaction and was grinning, already expecting an answer.

“Why would I want to discuss my taste in women? Especially with you, a guy I just met?”

Todo’s grin faltered, “C’mon. It’s clear you have your eye in one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t acted on it?”

Megumi stuttered, not sure what the deal was with the guy. It’s not like it was his business. Much less that he was going to confess anything right there like that.

Then this guy started tearing up. “I knew it. You’re boring, Fushiguro.”

______________

Itadori Yūji was not dead.

He had just sprung up in front of everyone like a jack-in-the-box right before the Exchange Event started.

You stood there petrified in place while the boy panicked by how your faces paled and fell. Not the reaction he was expecting apparently. As if coming back from the dead was the norm.

Nobara was the first to snap back, seemingly ready to pounce on him and beat him up, but there were tears in her eyes, giving away that she was happy to see him. Megumi stared at her before you stared at each other. You could see he was happy too, and unlike Nobara, you did start crying, making Yūji jump out from the box frantically. But they were happy tears. Megumi smiled softly at you while you squeezed the air out of the pink haired boy in a hug. You could be tough but you were such a cry baby too.

Nobara did punch Itadori eventually (she couldn’t do much more. There was an Event they had to win so she couldn’t outshape him too badly).

“So,” Itadori began, whispering loudly to Nobara, still holding up the memorial photo frame before his face, “How are those two doing?” Thank goodness you weren’t at earshot.

“Terrible. And you dying didn’t help exactly.” The girl reproached.

“Well, sorry for getting my heart ripped out.”

The first competition:

The Wacky Cursed Spirit Exorcism Race.

Megumi with his shikigami, and you, would be the best scouts. Thus, they’d split in groups to cover ground quicker, Maki with him, you with Nobara and Toge with Panda. Yūji was left to deal with Todo. Something about how the Kyoto students proceeded, though, told you something was off. All of them seemed to be targeting Itadori.

Hunting the curse spirit be damned. Everyone then went after a different target.

One thing about you was:

Your sense of direction sucked. So when Nobara got blown away by a strong gust of wind product of the girl with the broom from Kyoto, and you ended up alone in the woods, you feared you might’ve been lost. That would be the case, if you didn’t have cursed energy to guide you. So following your senses, you went along like that as you’d been doing for the event. There were people everywhere using cursed energy so it was difficult to pick a direction. And there were still the curses you were supposed to be hunting. A certain wave of cursed energy stood out the strongest, so you followed it thinking it could possibly be the second grade cursed spirit. Still, if you couldn’t reach Itadori or fight any of the Kyoto students, winning this thing would be good for yourself and the others. Nobara wanted to help Maki, and so did you.

“Run.” The voice echoed through.

“Inumaki senpai?” Your eyes found the source of the voice before he was running in your direction, a startled look on his face as he pulled you along and your body finally followed his command. You dared a glance back to try and figure out what made Inumaki react this way, the source of the strong cursed energy you felt still overwhelmingly near. That’s when you saw it, what was for sure a special grade curse. Its body was white, a cloth over where its left arm should be, two black lines zigzagging its face vertically, with two small branches where eyes usually are.

This battle was full of curveballs.

Inumaki reached the buildings where Fushiguro and Kamo were fighting. They’d stopped as soon as they heard an explosion, big branches shooting up by work of the curse. He’d lost you at some point while dodging the curse’s attacks. When he joined the other two, they noticed he obviously was preoccupied by the situation, but there was something else by the way he kept looking around as if something else might pop out of nowhere.

“Is there another one?” Megumi asked him. Toge shook his head. He didn’t know that.

“Was there someone else with you?” Was Kamo’s guess. With wide worried eyes, he turned to Megumi.

You’ve just reached the river when something comes crashing in your direction. It’s the curse. It’s attacking you the moment it spots you. You shield yourself with cursed energy before any of its projectiles hit you. Its body is too tough for your knives to hurt it, but Megumi’s shikigami comes to your help and then both him and Maki gang up on it.

It happens too fast when Megumi’s hit, a curse bud growing from his stomach. Maki gets distracted and she’s hit too but still she goes to fight while you check up on Megumi. You’d kept your calm, and quickly had resolved what you had to do.

“What are you doing?” Megumi winces when you place your hands near where the curse sprout is.

“That thing said it feeds off cursed energy.” He has good control of his cursed energy output, but you use your ability to steal whatever much left you can to reduce its effect.

“That’s enough- You need to stop. Y/n-” you’re so focused, his voice becomes background noise when you turn to see how Maki is doing. She dropped Playful Cloud after one of the curses hits and now it has her caught on one of its branches.

You face them both fully, all of the cursed energy making your body buzz with euphoria. With a pure blast of it, you break the branch holding Maki and send the curse a few feet away. That’s enough time for backup to come. Soon, you spot Yūji and Todo.

You sigh before your legs give out.

“Shit, shit, why the hell did you do that?” Megumi stumbles on his feet, falling to his knees again by your side before having to prop himself up on his elbow when he tumbles to the side. He hovers over you, the last flash of silver leaving your eyes, blood coming out of your nose.

You laugh and he thinks you might be delirious. “Why do you do it, Megumi?”

“Because I love you!” He’s crying, some of his tears falling on your cheeks.

Your eyes are wide in surprise and wonder product of his words. You bring a hand up to brush the tears away and cup his face with a soft smile on your face. “Then you know why I do it.”

His love for you had always been steady. With how your lives were, he’d kept holding back from his heart’s demand to try new ways of loving you. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Whether you were the one that saved him or killed him.

Megumi leans down and presses his lips to yours, eyes shut tight while you melt onto him. Warmth spreads from your chest and you swear you feel it all in the space between you, under the palm of your hand that still caresses his face tenderly.

He breaks away but stays close. You meet his eyes.

“I love you, Megumi.”

Your hand falls and it splashes on the water, your eyes fluttering close.

“No.” He whimpers before he chokes on the sobs trying to shake out of his chest and falls into a coughing fit, blood trickling out of his mouth from the corner of his lips. He falls completely, laying by your side as he caresses your face. His vision goes blurry, lightheaded and teary eyed, before everything disappears.

You feel a weight on your hand. You squint your eyes open, and tilting your head you come face to face with a sleeping Megumi. His hand is clasped in yours between your bodies. You’re in your room. You bring your hands up to leave a kiss on his. The tiny action seems to be enough to wake him up, eyelids fluttering open slowly. He’s fully awake when he sees you are too.

“Hi.”

A beat passes. His face scrunches up and you do your best to hold back a laugh. “ ‘Hi’?”

“What is it?”

“You think you can just say ‘hi’ after passing out right after you said you loved me?”

“I was just tired.” you giggled and he stared at you incredulously.

Oh my God, he was sulking over that.

“I tell you I love you all the time, Megumi.”

“That- It was different.” You were getting to him but you couldn’t help but push further.

“Wanna hear it again?”

He didn’t answer, but the pink hue of his cheeks was enough for you.

“I love you.”

He hid his beautiful face on the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss, his spiky hair tickling your skin making you giggle again.

“Ah- They’re both awake!” Itadori shouted from the doorway, and Kugisaki peered from over his shoulder. The pink haired boy was holding two pizza boxes and the girl was carrying a bag with their drinks.

You hadn’t had an easy life. But Megumi had you, and you had him. You would always fight for each other. And you had good friends, a family. You didn’t know what the future might bring you, but right now this was okay.

A/N: Hello first jjk fic I’m nervous. This is the longest fic I’ve ever written (if you take my hq!! inako series separately. Btw if you like hq!! you can check those out :D). I learned that a problem when fics start to get long it’s not that it’s long but not being sure where to stop. If you’re overdoing it or if you missed a chance to add a certain scene. Let’s see if this doesn’t flop. Not that it matters much if it does bc I just might still write more XD. The title of this fic came from a tweet that said that, that someone had quoted with pictures of Clancy and Torchbearer LMAO (yes I’m a tøp fan) and I thought oh shit that really fits this one. To everyone reading a big, big thank you!!

Notes:

I thought the first place they’d put you in if you said you were seeing such things as cursed spirits would be the loony bin 😭. So yeah, that first thought resulted in the birth of this fic.

I kinda got a little inspired by Maggie Evans/Victoria Winters from “Dark Shadows” (2012) for reader’s backstory.

Your family had been on the sorcerers’ radar for a while. Once Gojo graduated he’d stumbled upon a file that mentioned the case and learned about your family. That led him to you.

Gojo takes you in months after becoming the Fushiguro’s guardian.

Gojo releases Infinity just a beat before you jump to hug him. He’d only released it so you could reach for his hand before (techniques are tricky for me either because I’m stupid or bc I really haven’t read the manga (I’ve been freely seeing spoilers tho lmao so I have an idea of what’s going on) and I take they’re better explained in it (?). I assume he can focus Infinity to certain parts of his body like I saw on Gojo's past arc episodes).

You practically start living at Jujutsu High and get your own room there. When he’s out for missions there would be someone around to check up on you.

Yes, Gojo did your ponytails.

Since Gojo had taken in Megumi months prior, he’d already begun training. His technique had already begun manifesting too.

You’re wearing some of Megumi’s clothes that he’d left behind at Jujutsu High and are now too small for him until Gojo gets you clothes.

That scene is so cute to me but my brain can’t help but go, “Can I pet that dawg?” every time and I end up laughing like an idiot.

You were confused and overwhelmed by the manifestation of your cursed technique, that’s why you didn’t mention anything because you really didn’t understand it. It was something new after all. That was also paired with your fear of losing them. You weren’t used to having people around that understood what you were going through. Last time you’d ended up in an institution. 💀

The permanent look of worry on your face that your bullies notice comes from you worrying about Megumi fighting, unlike the one that came from spotting curses when you were little and didn’t understand.

Stupid bullies hit the jackpot with you because Gojo gave you a generous allowance for the week.

Nobody at school really knew you were close to Megumi because they hadn’t seen you two hang out together there.

Gojo being a proud dad about you beating up a boy. He’d probably have given you the okay earlier on. Something like, “If they start a fight you end it.”

Megumi might’ve gotten punched due to the fact that you were involved. He got distracted by you getting hurt and threatening the guy (he wasn’t much of a talker while beating someone up usually).

Looking up facts about Tsumiki made me learn more things about what happened to her (more or less, just skimming through articles and spoiling myself about things beyond s2 lol) and damn isn’t it messed up.

Megumi got scared, thinking what happened to Tsumiki could’ve happened to you. That's why he freaked out when you wouldn’t respond. Just you being a heavy sleeper. Don’t hate meee.

It’s probably stupid but my birthday is in fact 11 days before Megumi’s and when I found out I thought it was cute yk, like Dec. 11 and 22 (do you see what I mean? probably not 😆) so I brought it up here. Also, that makes reader and Gojo (and me) both sagittarius hehe. Father and daughter (just like, if it wasn’t funny enough, me and my dad (but he’s a Nov. sagi).

You dropped your technique right before Yūji ran past you both. The curse energy coming from him was alarmingly strong enough to be sensed purely without it like any other sorcerer (I mean that much is canon but I’m trying to emphasize my next point lol). If you hadn’t done so and had felt the curse energy coming from him using your technique you probably would’ve passed out right there from exhausting yourself.

I really don’t know if reader’s technique is making sense but imma try to explain what I came up with: First off, I kinda set my mind on Inej from Six of Crows and Noor from MPHFPC and thought about cursed energy like how they put chakra points on Naruto. Omg I know it’s a lot of different things I’m stupid but hear me out JAJA. Reader has a much more acute sense of cursed energy than others. She can actually see it coursing through people’s and curses’ bodies, also cursed tools. Basically anything that has it. Being so, she can see the strongest points where it flows and attack an opponent targeting those, hindering their curse energy flow and weakening them. She uses this in two ways: Weapons: daggers are her go to choice for long range battles (and if she doesn’t hit a particularly strong curse energy body region she still hurts them). For close combat she’d prefer to use a sword or the second way: her bare hands. She can just touch an opponent and extract their cursed energy for her own use. Since she has yet to master manipulating cursed energy that way, she doesn’t use it much. If she takes a little, she can control it better, reducing her own and adapting, or she can burn it off by attacking with it right away with a pure cursed energy hit. If she takes too much she gets like cursed energy “high”, wearing her off considerably afterwards. And if it is from a first grade or a special grade just a small intake could be too much she’ll most likely end up hurt. Other symptoms she may feel by using her technique for long periods are strong headaches, eye sensitivity, mental and physical weariness. Worse case scenario is her body giving out. Her technique is especially successful against opponents without exceptional physical strength cuz she’ll steal or hinder their cursed energy and they’re done for. Another thing she’s currently working on: “ storing”cursed energy (either some of her own or “stolen”): not having to burn it off right away and have like, a reserve. If she’s in battle with a partner and they’re running low on curse energy, she could transfer some to them (reader being like miss cursed energy battery or smth like that lol). I haven’t thought about her domain expansion but I don’t think I’ll need it for this fic. 💀 I just put too much thought behind her technique probably, and idek if it would make sense in the jjk verse lol. Idk if it makes sense as it is in this fic. But just in case I expand the world of this fic and do more works using these traits I have all this and I’ll have to invent a DE pfff. Basically making an oc. Also there’s more details like what Megumi mentions about you being able to turn on your technique without actually “stealing” cursed energy but sensing its flow. To you it feels like you’re feeling the person’s or cursed spirit’ s essence/personality/conscience. You could say their core or soul but that’s not exactly it, that’s Mahito’s thing JAJA but you’re close enough. That’s why Megumi’s calms you down aaaand that’s why Sukuna fucked you up.

Your cursed energy shines white. I made that up bc, yk, Megumi with his 10 shadows and reader looking like she’s casting “light”. Totally unimportant XD

There’s always a report after missions. Megumi had recounted what happened but asked if they could leave the details about what happened with Sukuna and him out when they briefed you on it. Gojo told on him when he went to check up on you. Nobara was there.

Reader is a hypocrite getting mad about Megumi risking his life for hers while she be around doing the same thing lololol.

Anyways, I just wanted to write that scene of Megumi summoning Shiro to comfort reader while Gojo adopted another kid and ended up with a whole fic with no plans and no direction. Just typed awaaay jaja

Me and music go together as some may alr know so here’s a few songs I thought about while writing this:

. Peak of Despair by Jake Stark, MITTY

. Numb to the Feeling by Chase Atlantic (how the fuck, you may ask. I took out the drugs and the horny out of it JAJA)

. DIE FOR ME by Chase Atlantic (pretty much the same case stated above)

. Saving Flowers by salute, Rina Sawayama

. Soft Spot by keshi

(If there was something else not mentioned here that you’re curious about or stood out to you hit the ask button <3. Thank you for reading up to this point!)

Until next time,

Youmarin <3

#megumi fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #tsumiki fushiguro #itadori yūji #kugisaki nobara #inumaki toge #maki zenin #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic

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