#that it still was considered an act of romance and not violence

[ratatattouille]

Why The Arcane S2 Finale Fumbled, Part I

arcane season 2 was artistically beautiful and thematically cheap. every interesting and meaningful thing it did with its characters (even in season 2 act 2) was reduced to romanticized bullshit, utterly divorced from its season 1 roots. it's so bad it can be considered pro-status quo propaganda (and i do mean that). good ships aside (and i do mean the caitivi, jayvik, timebomb holy triad), this season squats and shits on every zaunite character in the show. not just their zaunite-ness, but how it literally shaped who they were as characters.

Let's start with Vi:

Vi and Vander:

Vi's loyalty to The Lanes always went beyond Powder. Zaun was her father's, Vander's dream. Zaun was her friends and her family. When she's giving Caitlyn a tour of The Lanes, we see how much she embodies and revels in Zaunite culture (esp in the food scene). She took responsibility for the vulnerable, like Vander taught her to. Her "protective" trait extended to ALL the vulnerable in The Lanes, because Vander taught her that. It wasn't EVER just Powder. Zaun is her HOME. As a child, she wanted to make a name for herself IN ZAUN "one day, this city's gonna respect us." You can make the excuse that Vander's death meant that side of her died, but it clearly didn't because of how she regarded it while showing Caitlyn around. "Family" to Vander, extended to the vulnerable of Zaun, which is how Vi and Powder came to be his "daughters" in the first place. Because Zaun was for THEM. Zaun WAS THEM. Vander and Silco "weren't allowed to fail" at Zaun (i.e. the two daughters).

Additionally, Vi and Jinx were supposed to succeed where Vander and Silco hadn't: forgiving each other and uniting so they could realize their dream for a free Zaun. A big reason why Zaun struggles to be free is because of their own internal divisions (the different gangs fighting for scraps). But if they united, they would be able to liberate themselves from Piltover (who is still the enemy). The whole reason the others are prosperous in the alternate timeline Ekko and Heimerdinger travel to is because Vander and Silco reconcile (not because Vi dies).

Vander also passes on his sense of responsibility to Vi. He tells a repeatedly vengeful Vi how her ambition to show up her oppressors can overshadow the more pressing priority of looking after those more vulnerable than her i.e. Powder. Like Silco, his advice to his daughter is steeped in his own trauma of getting so zealous he didn’t stop to think what it would cost.

Vi and Caitlyn:

Caitlyn was an interesting development for Vi, particularly because Caitlyn mirrored Vander's care for all people. Caitlyn was an enforcer that wanted to truly understand and help people. This challenged Vi's biases and also gave them a common goal. Caitlyn appealed to Vi because she gave Vi renewed hope for peace in The Lanes. That Zaun could be free through co-operation instead of violence. Her whole teaming up with Caitlyn, romance aside, was predicated on Vi brokering for peace between Zaun and Piltover (and getting revenge on Silco).

The first break-up between the two (Season 1's "Oil and Water") centred around Jinx, more or less. Vi believes Silco is a threat to peace between Piltover and Zaun (even though The Lanes aren't known as Zaun to her, I'm just using the names interchangeably). She believes Jinx is acting out due to Silco's influence, as well (and she isn't wrong). Had Caitlyn not been injured on the bridge (and had Jinx not felt betrayed by Vi), Vi was going to leave her in pursuit of Jinx. Vi has also never fit into Piltover (and that's also shown in Season 2 act 1-2). She makes no connections with Piltovians besides Cait and (an already disillusioned) Loris who we see for like two seconds.

Vi and Jinx:

This show was ALWAYS about a tale of two sisters/cities. When Vi becomes an enforcer, it isn't because she's switched loyalties. She wants peace for The Lanes, she just wants to take Silco's creation--Jinx--out of the equation so it can work. Her priority, like Vander’s, is to keep the vulnerable of The Lanes safe, and both were willing to co-operate with Piltover to protect the people they loved. She believes, like Vander did with Silco, that Jinx (and by extension Zaun) is her responsibility. That the reason bad things happened to Zaunites (Vi’s and Powder’s parents dead on the bridge, Jinx’s mania) is their fault.

Vi blames herself for creating Jinx as Vander does for creating Silco. The only reason Vi agrees to Caitlyn's plan is because, again, their two goals align: get Jinx. The difference is Vi wants to kill Jinx to kill Silco, while Cait wants to kill Jinx to get her city (mother) back. Vi is still explicitly concerned about Jinx, who she has come to see as a threat to other people she loves (e.g. Ekko, Cait, etc). Vi became an enforcer to protect The Lanes and the (appearance) of peace. Vi internalized Vander’s words and doesn’t want war, even if it means Zaun never becomes independent. But she is doing it as penance for what she feels she didn’t do that led Jinx to become what she is.

The show in season 2 TOTALLY LOST THIS FOCUS. Vi's guilt at hunting down her own people with enforcers is ALSO ignored a lot by fandom, especially because her post-breakup scene where she goes full goth is framed as regret for letting Cait down (rather than the self-disgust she would feel for joining her oppressors). Vi played a part in creating Jinx and her enforcer-arc is still centred around Jinx. This gets shoved aside for romance with Cait. All the time we could spend post-breakup focusing on the sisters, quickly circles back to Cait.

Cait, who, literally became a dictator and weaponized the air ducts her mother had created to SAVE ZAUNITES. The whole thing is viewed as Vi betraying Cait instead of Vi betraying Jinx/Zaun/her family and Cait betraying Vi ("promise me you won't change") and her mother. Cait was the one who sought to help Zaun (like her mother) but betrayed who she was when she was willing to kill Isha, an innocent child.

Vi would feel even more guilty at how she is literally in an enforcer's suit when she is about to kill Jinx, the only family she has left. She is literally hunting down Jinx, a Zaunite, like the enforcers had her parents. But we barely explore that. It’s just off to chasing Vander/Warwick only for it to not matter anyways!

(ALSO IMPORTANT: Just to further prove my point on how integral the sister's love for each other was, every show started with a record playing. The cover of the disc was Vi and Jinx. They were always the center focus of the story. The song that the record played? Likely "Our Love" by Curtis Harding and Jazmine Sullivan which goes "Our love is a bubblin' fountain, our love, that flows into the sea, our love, deeper than the ocean, our love for eternity." This love deeper-than-the-ocean can apparently crumble in the face of a dictator girlfriend you've known for less than a year lmao).

Summary of Fumbles:

-Vi's and Jinx's relationship becomes secondary not just to the entire plot of the show but to Vi's arc. Zaun and Piltover's conflict was set up to be the epitome of the show, and the fact that it got shelved for some (ahem military propaganda) epic battle between humans and robots is very telling about the writers and showrunners.

-Vi forgives Cait easily and prematurely, trashing Vi's true loyalties as established in earlier seasons/episodes and robbing Cait’s actions of their appropriate weight.

-(above is an excerpt from Amanda Overton's interview with TheGamer) The culmination of love for Vi's character ends with Caitlyn and not Jinx. Vi's character, whose love is explicitly centred on Zaun and her family, reaches its peak in romance with a Piltovian. To quote Amanda further: "If Vi had no one left to protect, she would fall in love." As if Vi had no ambition outside of protecting her family. As if her dream since she was a kid wasn't tied so much into Zaun. As if the reason she wore an enforcer outfit wasn't because of Zaun. As if Zaunites aren't suffering right under her nose. As if she was the only kid in Stillwater Prison and struggled to survive the whole time she was there. I can't pretend to stomach it. (Again, it's not that Vi shouldn't be happy, it's that the ship had to shove this aspect of her character aside for it to work). If they wanted to really commit to the Vi-in-video game origin story, they should have set it up better and stuck to it.

-Vi herself takes a back seat in most of season 2, and becomes a passive, guilt-riddled yes-man to Cait

-Vander's re-introduction is almost completely worthless to the plot and narrative (he comes back just to die), and he is used as a cheap way to re-unite (and then separate) the daughters in a way that has no significance to the themes (also, Silco as Jinx's father is completely ignored during this time)

-Cait's deferral to fascism should have been permanent. Idc about the shippers at this point. Vi and Cait should have never come back from Cait shoving the back of her gun into Vi's injured side (let alone the gassing of the ducts). Vi would've never forgiven her, attraction or no. The fact that Cait could become a dictator after losing one parent is proof of their class divides (after all, Vi held onto hope despite losing all her parents to enforcers and Jinx was all she had left of her family). That should have cemented the death of that relationship (and it would have made for more compelling storytelling on class). I’m thinking it was kept because it matters more to white Western audiences to have a Romeo x Juliet rendition that assuages their classist sensitivities. Cait becoming a fascist made sense and was true to her character and the world. Vi forgiving her (and then having sex with her in the prison she was thrown into as a child?) destroyed both her character and the narrative.

Yeah, yeah, Vi was overwhelmed by the breadth of love and forgiveness Caitlyn had in letting Jinx go, but that's bare minimum shit. Vi "always choosing wrong" because she *checks notes* keeps trying to reconcile with her sister instead of letting her go since she isn't Powder anymore? So she resolves her guilt by choosing her own pleasure and putting herself first for once. Okay, I don't have a problem with that except that Vi and Jinx were supposed to succeed where Vander and Silco hadn't--by reconciling! And you still won't get me to like the fact that so much of Vi's character arc gets held up in a Piltovian who encouraged her to do the worst shit to her OWN PEOPLE and then fucking turned on her when she couldn't kill her sister. It is frankly amazing how we're supposed to celebrate Caitlyn literally coming between the sisters. I'd rather Vi forgiving Jinx than Caitlyn. And if the whole appeal of Vi's relationship with Caitlyn is that she was overwhelmed with love for how Caitlyn forgave Jinx after she killed her mother, I don't see how a relationship with Cait automatically makes Vi feel less guilty, since Cait also makes her feel guilty for choosing Jinx (remember her accusation "you will always choose her" like sorry I don't want to kill my orphaned, traumatized sister who I ripped into for making an honest mistake as a child and who has carried that since). Caitlyn (as others have pointed out) got a whole ceremony for her mother and instantly turned on Vi's people. The Vi I know would have been like, "You really are all the same," and FUCKING DIPPED. And there's a little acknowledgement of this in act 1 where Vi accuses Caitlyn of acting like Jinx.

Both Jinx and Caitlyn are emotional labour for Vi. Vi still wants to protect Caitlyn from Jinx. There's not that much of a difference, lol, except that Caitlyn is a privileged Piltovian and Jinx is a victim of the abysmal childhood she suffered at the hands of enforcers. Yet the show is more or less saying Vi pursuing reconciliation with Jinx was a bad choice for Vi and the reason the cycle of violence continued (for some reason). The sister reconciliation was what I was here for, personally. Cute ships aside. But noooo, Vi should forgive Cait (not Jinx) to stop the cycle.

And having jail sex is a liberating act for her because it's where they had their meet-cute. (And we're all good bc Caitlyn gave up the Kiramman seat, lmao, like sure okay).

It's frankly made the ship that much more unpalatable. If Vi had to be destroyed as a character for the ship to work, then the ship wasn't all that good (even though it started off that way). It's honestly left such a bad taste in my mouth. What a fuck you to oppressed groups that whole subplot was. (And it's made worse by the fact that the creator thought that was somehow an empowering and liberating act for Vi, like fuck that).

Let's Talk About Victor:

Viktor and Heimerdinger:

Heimerdinger and Viktor were the most polar of opposites. Heimerdinger was not only a privileged, ulta-wealthy Piltovian, but he had a comparatively endless lifespan while Viktor's own human life-span was cut short due to being a Zaunite, born at the bottom of the barrel and raised on toxic fumes that led to his terminal illness. Viktor's desperation to unlock the Arcane was explicitly about him overcoming his circumstances, his illness, his premature death. It wasn't merely about his internalized ableism, but the unjust way in which he had to suffer. Heimmerdinger could afford patience because he had all the time and resources in the world, but Viktor didn't. Not merely because he was a mortal, but because he was a Zaunite.

Viktor and Singed:

Viktor's arc with hextech is foreshadowed with his childhood interaction with Singed. I understand that in the games, Viktor is a villain-type character and his catchphrase or whatever is "Join the Glorious Evolution," which the show hinted at from Season 1 when Singed explained his experiments to Viktor. While Viktor is horrified by Singed killing the creature that he eventually uses for shimmer, Viktor later says, "I understand," hinting that he saw the sacrifice (and death) necessary to "heal" the world of its ailments. Both Viktor and Singed grow up in The Lanes, and both have ailments they want to cure (for Viktor it is his lung cancer and for Singed its his daughter's dying). In season 2, Viktor tells Singed that while he understands what healing all those people could cost him, he will not sacrifice their humanity for Singed's cause. This is because of Sky’s death (which is partly why it is her who is in the Arcane with him).

Sky’s death is what makes Viktor beg Jayce to destroy the hex core, since he couldn’t do it himself. He is willing to die if that means no more innocent people do. But here’s where I get a little touchy. VIKTOR didn’t KNOW she was there. Viktor was simply desperate to live. Sky’s death was not malicious (even if it’s true to his character that he’d feel guilty anyways). It is at this point that Viktor has Jayce promise him to destroy the hex core (and by god is this where a lot of my contention with the finale comes from). Also, it is important to note that Viktor’s self-loathing is depicted only in regard to Sky’s death (NOT HIS BAD LEG). Now Viktor feels guilty not just for Sky’s death, but also necessarily for trying to live (AND PLEASE KEEP THIS IN MIND). TRYING TO LIVE is subtly treated as an AMBITION that, for Viktor, interfered with his ethics. (And please note that in the end, Singed, who repeatedly embraces unethical practices for reviving his dying daughter gets what he wants).

Anyway, in S2, Jayce blasts Viktor in the chest and all that conviction goes out the window. All this despite Sky (his conscience and “humanity”) being there with him in the astro-nether. Now Viktor's idea of becoming a higher being is just getting rid of emotion (apparently because Jayce did it or something). Jayce killing him without explanation was all of a sudden all he needed to become a divine dictator. The same Viktor that looked terminal illness in the face and preferred to spare others instead of himself? The same Viktor who's immediate action after waking up with a new body was to go and use the arcane he wished had been destroyed to help others? Because the arcane is corrupting him? That’s convenient for a certain political narrative. Especially because anyone would hesitate pressing a button (in Viktor’s case smashing the hex core) that would guarantee their death. Viktor was being human, not corrupt.

Viktor and Jayce:

Now, I think Jayce's speech had some merit and could have been framed better with a little more time and thought. The philosophical idea of perfection or a perfect world (one which Piltoverians strive toward) being untenable, maybe even undesirable, is a fascinating concept worth exploring. BUT MAKING IT ABOUT SOME INTERNALIZED ABLEISM FROM VIKTOR IS FUCKING STUPID!!!! I'm sorry, but Piltover being the city of progress until it actually included becoming progressive with Zaun was absolutely one of the things Jayce and Viktor's sub-plot was trying to explore.

Viktor WANTED TO LIVE. Viktor wanted his people to STOP SUFFERING. Viktor WAS RIGHT. He wasn't merely eliminating "imperfections" (and of FUCKING COURSE A PILTOVIAN WOULD SEE IT THAT WAY), he was trying to cure sick and dying people who did nothing to deserve it. He was buying them time that people like Jayce and Heimmerdinger had in spades, but Viktor and Zaunites had stolen from them.

Children dying of disease and violence in The Lanes was by Piltovian design! It was not some predestined cosmic necessity. Viktor WAS RIGHT TO HATE HIS FUCKING TERMINAL ILLNESS ARE THESE GUYS INSANE??! Wtf kind of message is Viktor embracing it as part of himself sending to vulnerable, impoverished and ill people? Is that supposed to be some kind of fucking comfort? Fuck off right to hell!

Like I'm glad if it resonated with any disabled people, but Viktor's struggle with his body was a protest against Piltover, not himself, and I hate that the writers gutted that character development. Viktor's and Jayce's paths "diverged a long time ago" because Jayce had the luxury and time of pursuing his dream while Viktor didn't. Viktor, even up there as a scholar of Piltover, was still getting the Zaunite treatment.

Jayce had the time to pursue a better world, while Viktor had to struggle for a little more time. When Viktor becomes part of the arcane, suddenly he has all the time in the world to realize HIS OWN DREAM. Why would wanting a better world for others have to result in "dreamless solitude"? Why does wanting progress equal wanting perfection? You are changing the subject and that is cheating!!!!

Viktor becoming obsessed with fixing what ailed humanity was warranted, and his extremism was hinted to have been due in part to the effect the arcane had on him, but it still made the themes of arcane a joke. There was so much potential and the writers (and showrunners) just squandered it for some more romantic bullshit.

The Glorious Fumblings (A Summary):

-"Humanity, our very essence, is inescapable. Our emotions, rage, compassion, hate. Two sides of the same coin, intractably bound. That which inspires us to our greatest good is also the cause of our greatest evil.” That's a neat quote, but wars don't start simply due to emotions or whatever. This lacks class analysis, and it's annoying that the writers made this the whole theme of season 2 (and retroactively the show) in a story on class divides. Cait did not merely gas the Zaunites because of her mother, but because of her privileged upbringing that made it more acceptable to her to view Zaunites as animals (remember Ekko telling her enforcers “hunt us down like animals"). Cait knew the humanity of Zaunites was real. She just chose to ignore it because she could afford to. While it is interesting that Viktor would come to see being human as a flaw that destroys any hope of achieving peace (conflict theory would like a word with you), it ignored that fascism is not an inherently human trait and detracts from how or why it persists in the first place. It's almost the same as saying men/white people oppress women/poc because the latter were mean to them. It's victim-blaming (and false lmao). The British didn't colonize the Americans because the natives did anything to them. All prejudice is unjustified, that's what makes it prejudice. Again, Cait became a fascist when her mom died, but Vi still drew the line at killing children and even council members despite losing every single one of her family members to Piltover's violence against The Lanes. AND THAT’S JUST IT. Why the Zaunites do what they do isn’t simply because of love and hate, but because of the desperate circumstances they are forced into by their oppressors. Why the Piltovians do what they do, isn’t because of love or hate, but because they are bread in luxury and affluence. Pretending that’s not the case is an insult to the work put into Arcane’s first season (and anyone with a brain and basic empathy).

-Jayce's speech would have been cute in another story, but it's downright insulting in Arcane's. Yes, yes, Jayce's words would have been the only ones to have broken the real Viktor out of Arcane Viktor's grasp by appealing to this deep childhood wound, but Viktor's desperation was not to belong (because his leg kept him from playing with other children) but TO LIVE (because he was dying of an illness). Jayce's speech isn't bad, just misplaced. Like most of the finale.

-Viktor did not have to become a fascist-aligned deity in his quest to heal people. It is a typical MCU thing to have a "villain" that's technically right and then destroy their entire character to make their (correct) philosophy untenable by making them do something extreme. Typical pro-status quo propaganda trope. I DON’T CARE if it was so we could get some game version of him. Viktor was right in bringing progress and his discoveries to The Lanes instead of devoting his efforts to Piltover, the fake city of progress.

-While I am annoyed that the climax of the show hinged on Jayce and Viktor and hextech (a tool to explore the inequalities of Piltover and Zaun) instead of Jinx and Vi, I think it kinda makes sense. Hextech built what Piltover has now become. Jayce, Viktor and hextech kinda represent Piltover (what it could be) and Jinx and Vi represent The Lanes (and the Zaun it could be). Both would have been integral, but the story shouldn't have hinged on hextech, IMO. Hextech should have remained a tool to explore the politics of both cities, but instead it overshadowed everything, cheapening the story's themes, characters and world-building.

-Jayce calling the Zaunites to arms was downright absurd. But not as absurd as Zaunites volunteering.

And Then There's Jinx:

Jinx and Isha:

Isha's only use, as far as I'm concerned, was to be a reconciling force between the sisters. When Cait was willing to shoot her to get to Jinx, that should have stopped Vi right there and brought her back to defending Jinx 100% I DON’T CARE. When Isha sacrificed her life to save Jinx, that should have been Jinx's wake-up call right there and helped her understand why Vi kept leaving her out of missions as a kid. But instead what do we get? Depressed, suicidal Jinx and an astoundingly even more resentful and indifferent Vi. Now Jinx sees herself as even more of a poison to those she loves (because she can’t protect them like Vi can and frequently kills them while trying to do so). Jinx, who has always wanted to be useful to those she loves. Who pursued her own hextech inventions in order to give her siblings a fighting chance when facing down Silco. Who wants to give Zaun a fighting chance as Silco's daughter (and Isha’s surrogate mother). To be useful to the goals and dreams of her family. Isha was the perfect opportunity to bring the sisters together and get Jinx to embrace all she is (both the Jinx that Vi rejects and the Powder that Silco rejected), but no. Instead, the kid was some kind of foreshadowing to Jinx's own heroic self-sacrifice for her sister (a message that left both sister's arcs unfinished). Or perhaps, Isha was a commentary on the cycle of violence. But that this sub-plot really wasn't needed given what we'd already established in Season 1.

Why do I say this?

Because the cycle of violence is not a "Jinx" issue, but a Piltover one, and the writers making it an interpersonal issue instead of a political/sociological one damaged the story and what Jinx's character could have meant to mentally ill people like her. It wasn't illogical storytelling, just far less meaningful than it could have been. It would have been more powerful and moving and impactful for Jinx to realize where the true cycle of violence (as established the whole fucking show from the dead parents on the bridge, to Vander and Silco, to Jinx and Vi, to Jinx and Ekko, to Isha and Warwick, to Cait and Vi, etc) was coming from.

Jinx needed to accept herself and the love others showed toward her (Silco, Vander, Ekko and Vi). Jinx keeps blowing things up because she repeatedly rejects herself (both Powder and Jinx), ignoring the good she's done and tried to do. Isha was a call back to the good Jinx has done and can continue to do for Zaun and others. Isha and Sevika understood (even though Silco unfairly set it up) that Jinx was actually their good luck, their hope, more than just a hex (pun intended) on the city. After all, Jinx made Sevika her new arm (even though she's the reason Sevika lost her arm in the first place), which further proves that Jinx had the capacity to fix some of what she broke. It would have been better for her to embrace responsibility and have the faith to try and fix things (ESP her relationship with Vi). While it is not unrealistic or necessarily bad writing that she would fake her own death to run away and start over (or just die) trying to save Vi, the arc people she represented deserved was her embracing Vi back, not accepting that she was a curse in Vi's life. And most definitely NOT romanticizing her pain.

Jinx and Ekko:

Ekko's and Jinx's relationship is precisely an exploration of how Piltover's violence against Zaun forced these children with entire futures ahead of them (they are both child prodigies) into endless war and hellish heroism. Ekko and Jinx are repeatedly shown to be hesitant and even unwilling to participate in violence against others, especially their own. Ekko does not hate Jinx, though he wants to, and Jinx does not like who she is when she's violent. She is trigger-happy because she already expects Vi and Ekko to want to kill her (projecting her self-loathing on them, but not entirely unreasonably). She doesn't have faith in their love or mercy because she doesn't see any part of herself as redeemable or loveable, which is why she consistently sabotages her life (but not without help from Vi and others).

Ekko and Jinx are symbols of progress for Zaun AND Piltover (and Heimerdinger saw that, especially when Ekko insisted he had to go back to his timeline, even if the one he had landed in was better). Heimmerdinger saw what they could have been in the alternate timeline, all the genius that was squandered in The Lanes. Jinx and Ekko are the ones most willing to put an end to violence and injustice because both of them are nostalgic for their families. All that’s ever kept them going is the love of their families. Jinx just doesn't have the same faith in her ability to be their hero as Ekko does, but Ekko manages to convince her for a moment anyways.

Ekko recognizes (like Silco, Viktor and Isha) how integral Jinx is to the creation of a new world. She injects colour and life and hope into Zaun and is the only one who can unite all warring factions in Zaun in the first place. I know people have gripes with this Jinx being the hero of Zaun when she literally killed Silco, opening the market for other gangs, but her most famous act is the bombing of the Council, which pretty much all Zaunites were unaware was about to grant them independence. To the average citizen of Zaun and Piltover, Jinx was the symbol of a revolution (even if Jinx didn’t see herself that way and didn’t really want to be). Both her and Ekko are rebel leaders, but that is hardly used in Zaun's interests in the end. (ALSO THAT WHOLE CONVERSATION WITH VIKTOR AND JINX WHERE HE SAID SHE COULD BE USEFUL TO HIS WORK. This show would have won with a Viktor and Jinx team-up to unite Zaun--also in parallel to Jayce and Vi's team up. We could have had it all!)

Jinx and Silco:

This, is only second to Vi in the most FUMBLED things about Jinx. Silco was her guide once Vander died and Vi ran away. Silco not only took care of her, but gave her purpose (someone to love and be loved by and protect) and nurtured her talent (one that many others scorned). Silco accepted Jinx even though he weaponized her (which backfired for him). As much as Silco WAS WRONG to lie about Vi (manipulating Jinx) and even try to kill Vi (which was a dumbass move on his part), he wasn't wrong about Jinx's path to healing: self-acceptance and self-forgiveness. And even though Silco's own stupidity led Jinx to "embrace" Silco's version of Jinx to the point that she bombed the Council right when they'd granted Zaun independence (I wanted to fucking kill myself watching that), Jinx was still not ENTIRELY a jinx as Jinx (e.g. when she rescued Zaunites from Stillwater Prison). This fucked up dude did a whole John-the-Baptist thing where Vander tried to drown him with Jinx so she could embrace her Jinx-ness. But I don't think he was telling her to embrace that she was a curse like Vi meant it, but to embrace her new life (baptism is all about death and rebirth) and her new self and take responsibility for it.

Silco, like Ekko, was the one who saved Jinx from death and offered Jinx a home. While everyone else patronized Jinx for her own childhood trauma, Silco was gentle, understanding and provided space for that, even when her psychosis killed him. He showed zero resentment toward her. But when Silco dies and Vander returns, Jinx just . . . oopsie, doopsie! Forgets about Silco until one final hallucination she has of him in the jail cell. The only one she has where he talks. And what does he say? She needs to break the cycle. How? Not by eliminating Piltover or gaining Zaun's independence like he'd talked about and dreamed about. Not by accepting herself as Jinx and Powder, the inventor, the fighter, daughter of both Silco and Vander, but by offing herself? Leaving her family to think she's dead? Embracing the lie that she really was the poison in their lives and the reason none of them could be happy? The reason they died? NICE! SWELL! WHAT A SATISFYING, INSPIRING CONCLUSION! Even worse, they made her "death" staged. I'm sorry, but do we really believe that this same girl who killed herself multiple times in front of Ekko just 24 hours ago somehow found the will to live and escape into air ducts when she was falling with Vander? She decided to live right when she was about to die? And let's not forget that she was falling to the same song that was playing when she was trying to commit suicide. Why? And why would a heroic death (staged or not) be any form of character growth for Jinx in the first place? When her whole thing is distrusting the love offered to her? Or was she accepting herself by being the one to kill Vander because she knew Vi couldn't? Either way, it's cheap!

I Wonder Who Put All Those Holes In You (Fumbling Summary):

-Vander's letter to Silco could have been why she hallucinated Silco talking to her about forgiveness, but breaking the cycle here is about forgiving (unapologetic) Piltovians instead of herself, which needed to happen to complete her arc.

-Isha and Vander misery porn

-(above is an excerpt from Amanda Overton's TheGamer interview) to paraphrase: "SO OUR GRAND CONCLUSION TO VI AND JINX'S ARC WAS TO CONFIRM THAT YES, JINX WAS INDEED A JINX (AND NOT PILTOVER OR ANYTHING HAHA) AND THE SISTERS WOULD ONLY HAVE PEACE IF THEY NEVER RECONCILED - JUST LIKE THEIR FATHERS BECAUSE THAT WORKED OUT SO WELL THE FIRST TIME! :D THE REASON THEIR LIVES ARE IN SHAMBLES ARE PURELY BECAUSE OF THEIR OWN PERSONAL FAILINGS AND NOT AT ALL BECAUSE OF THE SITUATION PILTOVIANS HAVE PUT ZAUNITES IN! XD WE THINK THIS IS ALSO A FANTASTIC THING TO TELL MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE." :)

-Jinx being the reluctant Girl Saviour of Zaun after clinging onto her identity as a jinx so she didn't have to take responsibility for Zaun should have been the completion of her arc, IMO. As far as Jinx's arc is concerned, she was meant to reject the identity of jinx that Vi gave her and embrace the identity of Jinx that Zaun gave her. Loveable and capable of doing the right thing and saving others. Using hex-tech, something Jayce and Piltover had levelled against her people, against them. And she does this to some extent, but we don't even get a hint as to why Ekko's speech worked (and how he got her to fight alongside him and the Firelights in the first place). We know she does so for Vi, but she so quickly gives up once she and her sister are back on the same team. She allies herself with her sister just to die and then fuck off to another land? BRUH! Like act 3 is SO FRUSTRATING!

Conclusion

If the focus had been on the coming war between Zaun and Piltover, then we could have better explored the internal struggles happening with Vi's and Jinx's characters. Using Isha and Vander as misery porn for Jinx was a bad move. I stand by that. Isha didn't need to die that uselessly. Jinx did not need more "trauma" for any character development (positive or negative). It's not unrealistic that Jinx would be depressed after Isha's death (and that Isha was likely meant to symbolize the constant cycle of violence), but that this sub-plot really wasn't needed given what we'd already established in Season 1.

These are where my gripes with Jinx's and Viktor's arcs in S2 really lie: the story tries to strip the political from the personal! Viktor, on waking up with the arcane in him, goes back to The Lanes, and what does he see? The cycle that Silco mentions in Jinx's hallucination in the cell. This cycle is not merely coming from the interpersonal struggle Zaunites have, but rather, the forces behind those struggles: the starvation, the lack of resources, the poverty. All caused by Piltover. Where Season 2 fails while Season 1 succeeded, is it points the camera away from Piltover as the origin of all this mess, and instead, makes it a stupid cosmic clash between chaos and order (kinda fascist ngl). Zaun lost, and Arcane Season 1 had the tits to show why those in The Lanes were always on a losing streak: Piltover. The commitment to saving Piltover instead of destroying it ruined so many arcs, most notoriously Vi's and Jinx's. This should have ended in a war between the two cities, not one where both fought against robo-people and Ambessa.

But what, instead, do the writers brandish as this solution to the cycle?

Fucking forgiveness (of those who harm and oppress you) and acceptance of your (physical) imperfections (like that's what we were apparently talking about, which no, it wasn't). By refusing to acknowledge Piltover's hand in the desperation and violence and struggle the Zaunite characters find themselves, the show inadvertently ends up excusing Piltover.

TLDR: Bad message to send to oppressed people, mentally ill people, and people dying of terminal illnesses, lmao. The Zaunites ALL LOST with this one.

And I'm going to make a Part 2 to really get into it, but from the perspective of three Piltover characters (and one Zaunite) that really prove my point: Jayce, Mel, Caitlyn and Ekko.

P.S.: It's okay if you think the show is good because it succeeds in many other things, I just think it drops the ball in the places I've mentioned. But if your main criticism of my criticisms is going to be defending your ships, please find another post. Oppression is a serious reality that deserves serious depiction and it's insulting to have such necessary political discussions devolve into dumbass ship wars.

EDIT: I honestly did not expect this post to get more than 20 likes lmao, and i must admit that this was more of a thought dump than a super-deep analysis, but i'm glad a lot of it has resonated with so many of you!

EDIT AGAIN: Here's PART 2.

[daceydeath]

Biggest Flex

Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Mafia Romance, Smut

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Alcohol, Violence, Explicit Content

Park Seonghwa is a traditional mafioso so there are only a few rules that apply to those around him. Do not disrespect him, his organization or what he considers his.

“I'm here with someone, sorry” you repeated as politely as you could, it was probably the fourth time you had said the same thing and the dip shit was still talking to you trying his luck.

“Well he ain't here beautiful so how about you and me…” he started a cocky grin still on his face before you interrupted him again.

“I'm here with someone and he will be back in just a moment” you sighed, plastering on a fake smile that didn't reach your eyes. You knew there would be some kind of trouble once your boyfriend came back but only if you couldn't get rid of this absolute moron before then. 

“Listen you stupid bitch, your man ain't here so how about you stop acting like a tease and come over to drink with us” he shouted getting too close to your face for you to not flinch back “aw is the little slut scared now?”. He reached out to grab your arm.

“Touch her and I'll kill you, you piece of shit” A terrifying snal echoed across the room. Skirting around the guy who was trying to pick you up you almost stumbled to get closer to Seonghwa who looked murderous. The anger rolled off your lover in such palpable waves, you could almost taste it. Even though it wasn't directed at you it still made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, nothing that happened from this moment was going to be bloodless.

“Hwa” you whispered, sounding loud in the deafening silence that had enveloped the room. Reaching out to touch his arm as he stepped closer to where you were standing.

“Go with Joon baby” he murmured, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles softly “You shouldn't see what happens now”.

“Hwa, he's just an idiot who doesn't know who I'm here with” you continued “you promised me tonight would be just us”.

“I know, but disrespect must always be punished especially when that disrespect involves insulting what's mine” his eyes were still burning with rage but the way he spoke to you reassured you that he didn't blame you.

“Alright Hwa” you nodded, stepping towards where Hongjoong was standing, his gun already on display from the way he had crossed his arms whilst backing up your boyfriend. Hongjoon nodded at Seonghwa before guiding you from the private VIP room and towards the exit, his hand barely touching your shoulder blades. Usually Seonghwa would simply send Hongjoong and some of the others to take whoever he was angry with outside to deal with them away from you but this time he was far more frightening than you had seen him before.

“What's going to happen Joon? Will Hwa be alright?” Your voice showing how nervous you were about what was about to happen.

“Trust me you don't want to know” Hongjoong smirked before noticing your wide eyes and smiling lopsidedly instead “Hwa will be just fine, he has back up with him”. Nodding you didn't feel much better about the situation especially when you heard the first scream and crashing sound making you jump.

“Come on, to the car so you are safe” Hongjoong picked up his pace walking you into the alleyway and in the direction of the black Lotus that Seonghwa had driven you to the club in. Getting into the passenger seat Hongjoong shut your door and took his place in front of your window gun drawn and ready to act if it was required making your anxiety grip your heart like an icy hand squeezing it until you felt like you couldn't breathe. Even though you were outside of the club and shut in the car you could still unmistakably hear the sound of gunshots echo through the night making you shudder and Hongjoon tense in his stance.

After what felt like an hour you saw Hongjoong relax and move from his position holstering the handgun that he had tried to keep from your line of sight. You looked around still feeling anxious but less so since Hongjoong had relaxed, Seonghwa was making his way out of the rear exit door, his black coat swirling in the cold air as he walked over to the car calmly. Hongjoong made his way over to the black Audi sedan that Seonghwa’s men traveled in while Seonghwa smiled at you looking as though he was completely uninjured. He opened the drivers door and slid in beside you, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, his teeth flashing as he grinned at you.

“Let's get you home pretty baby” he hummed, starting the car and letting the engine roar to life. Speeding through the city streets you very quickly found yourself pulling into the gated driveway of his place.

“I thought you were taking me home Hwa” you smiled shyly, biting your lower lip softly making him raise his eyebrow as he looked you over.

“This is your home baby, you know anything I own is yours” he almost purred, getting out of the car and opening your door for you. As soon as you were standing Seonghwa pulled you into a desperate kiss pressing himself against you. 

“Let me show you that you own everything I am” he smirked, making you blush. Scooping you into his arms he carried you into the house, not bothering to even shut the front door, only putting you down when he could lay you on his bed. 

Pulling off his coat and jacket he threw them to the floor, followed them went his tie, waistcoat and shirt leaving him looking glorious in his half naked state. In the time it has taken to rid yourself of your coat he was crawling up the bed and hovering over you. Moving to toe off your shoes he stopped you gently.

“Leave them on baby, I want to undress you myself” his voice turned husky as he pressed his clothed crotch against you letting you feel how hard he was.

“Hwa, I was so worried something would happen to you” you whispered feeling yourself already giving into him.

“I'm sorry you had to see me angry pretty baby” he whispered before connecting his lips to yours, this kiss much more sensual than the last. His lips moved more gently against yours as he swiped his tongue along the seam of your lips and pulled your bottom lip lightly with his teeth. Gasping in pleasure he took advantage by slipping his tongue between your open lips and moving it against your own in slowly making you whimper quietly.

“I forgive you Hwa, I know you just want me safe” you uttered breathily as he began kissing his way down your neck stopping to mouth at the juncture with your shoulder making you sigh. You could feel his lips curl into a smile as he repeated the action making you whine softly and thread your fingers into his hair. Moving back to your lips his hands made short work of tugging you dress down your body leaving you in only your underwear and heels as he sat back to admire you.

“Fuck you're a goddess” he spoke almost revenantly making your heart swell in your chest. Taking your right leg and kissing your ankle and he removed your high heel he repeated the action with the left before undoing his pants and crawling back up your body kissing every inch of your exposed skin in the process. Once his lips reconnected with yours you felt his fingers make their way past the lace covering your core and begin gently teasing you.

“Mmm Hwa” you moaned, lightly rocking your hips against his digits melting into the pleasure he was already giving you. Without moving himself away from you he tugged your underwear further aside and before you could protest the lack of his fingers he started filling you with his length. Inch by inch he sunk into you at a maddeningly slow pace making you arch your back as he bottomed out inside you.

“So tight baby” he groaned gradually pulling his hips back before sinking into you again “you take me so well baby”.

“Ngh… please Hwa” you babbled as he rolled his hips again stretching your velvet walls perfectly. You heard him chuckle breathlessly before he lazily continued rocking his hips into you giving you just enough pleasure to drive you mad.

“Does my baby want more huh? Does she need me to make her mine? Show her who she belongs to?” He teased picking up his pace and walking you moan loudly. He began snapping his hips into you more roughly each thrust hitting the spot that only he could inside you sending you hurtling towards your orgasm.

“Seonghwa… oh my god….” You cried out as the tingle in your belly caught fire and exploded making you cum hard around him, your walls quivering as he kept fucking into you. He growled from somewhere in the back of his throat making your head spin while he continued to pump into your fluttering hole.

“Such a good girl” he groaned, his voice strained as he tried to hold off his own high just a little bit longer, lifting your leg to wrap around his waist to plunge even deeper into you “Fuck I love you so much baby” he moaned as he finally hit his climax filling you with thick ropes of his seed.

“I love you too Hwa” you panted tiredly as he carefully pulled himself from you making you hiss slightly at the feeling of emptiness between your thighs. He languidly got off the bed stripping himself nude before helping you out of your underwear and climbing back into the bed beside you pulling you onto his chest.

“I meant it baby, everything I am is yours” he smiled, kissing the crown of your head.

A/N: Thank you for reading my lovely loves. All your kind support means the world to me xxx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz , @armystay89 , @damnyouficc , @roamingpolar , @tara-skyhold , @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks , @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere rivals between Sanji and Zoro ~ will their be at each other throats or work together for the readers sake ~ 🍪(I’m fine with hcs as for platonic or romance I’m fine with either , whatever u thinks best please ) hope your doing ok ! 

These two are always having a rivalry just in general... Can they even share? Not sure if the cookie was meant to be your anon name or not but let me know if it was :')

Yandere! Sanji vs Zoro Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Rivalry/Sharing mentioned

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Violence, Blood, Murder, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Dubious companionship(s)/relationship(s).

These two are often fighting with one another.

Everything is a competition when it comes to them.

Throw in someone they both like?

They react in their own way but they're definitely fighting.

As the pairing is vague, there's multiple ways to look at this.

Platonic! Zoro/Platonic! Sanji: This pairing for them would be the one most likely to have them share. While it's hard to see Sanji as platonic, this pairing essentially gives you two competitive bodyguards. They still bicker, but when it comes to your safety the two are overly attentive.

Platonic! Zoro/Romantic! Sanji: This is a pairing I can see where they could either fight or share. Zoro would take an overprotective friend or brother role towards you while Sanji... is Sanji. Zoro would want the cook to treat you well and would only tolerate Sanji with you if he promises to take care of you. Other than that, it's a battle of Zoro trying to keep Sanji away from you.

Romantic! Zoro/Platonic! Sanji: Similar to the previous pairing but swapped. Now Sanji doesn't think Zoro will treat you well and acts like you're too good for Zoro. This version would most likely fight more. Especially because Zoro takes offense to the idea of you being gatekept by the cook on the crew.

Romantic! Zoro/Romantic! Sanji: There's no way these two are sharing. Both want you romantically and feel they have to impress you to have you to themselves. You can just imagine the competition and fights they get into.

Going into these individually is a bit much for this concept, so this will stay general for the most part.

However, if those pairings spark ideas for the future, I can probably do something with them another time.

The two respect one another for their abilities.

Yet they rarely seem to agree when it comes to you.

When they do agree with one another, they can be a dangerous duo.

But they have a tendency to bicker over you, even if the pairings change the degree they do.

Even the tamest pairing still has them fighting at times.

In canon, Sanji has some jealousy towards Zoro.

So if Zoro was getting more attention than Sanji, the cook may just snap.

Another thing to consider is the fact their yandere behaviors are different.

Zoro, no matter platonic or romantic, tends to stay out of the way and observe.

Sanji, however, always tends to be close to his obsession.

Sanji's behavior may drive Zoro to swap his behavior and stick around you more.

After all, if the cook isn't backing off, the swordsman isn't either.

Every interaction the two have is competitive in some way.

It can be over something simple, too.

For example, maybe Zoro found something he thought you might like as a gift and gave it to you.

Only for Sanji to one up him... and now the two are in a competition for who can give you the best gift.

One competition that always flops though is cooking or sword fighting.

As only one of them can do such tasks.

Zoro falls under the distant yet overprotective category while Sanji tends to be affectionate and clingy.

Which, again, puts Zoro on edge.

The two will get into physical fights... often.

It's almost like you see another new blood stain or scar on the two due to some other argument.

There has been too many times you and probably either Nami or Chopper have had to tend to their wounds.

The two may temporarily stop their fighting if you snap at them, allowing the two a moment of clarity to realize they are only annoying you.

Cue a brief apology from Zoro and groveling from Sanji.

I think the idea of them changing their behavior due to the other is interesting.

Even though Sanji primarily just makes Zoro a more aggressive yandere rather than distant....

The only thing the two share in common in this rivalry is the fact they care about you.

The two could be fighting, competing, bickering, etc...

Yet it all stops the moment they see you're hurt.

No matter the pairing... Those two get mad.

Friends, lovers, both, doesn't matter...

If one of them sees you bleeding, sick, or upset in anyway, the other knows too.

The two can work together in select situations.

Those two can be downright unstoppable if they want to be.

Imagine this... Someone's fighting you or harassing you, managing to make you upset or injured.

Yeah... The moment the two find out... That other person's gone.

The two quickly act like bodyguards to you as they just... seemingly appear.

There's a dark glare in their eyes and that other person knows they're doomed.

By the end of it, Zoro is either beating up the other person or already has a blade in their gut...

Meanwhile Sanji is shielding your eyes from the blood splattering on the floor and covering your ears to hide the screams.

All while the cook coos over your possible wounds.

The two know when to smarten up and work together.

They won't kill one another but they will certainly fight.

Their fellow crew won't let them kill one another...

Nami may have actually told them you'd be upset if they did or something, making the two pause.

They're both mostly just protective and competitive.

They don't want to hurt you in any way.

So, from these two, you'll get overprotective and ruthless bodyguards when you need them...

Although... the two will quickly pick up where they left off once they know you're okay...

It doesn't matter if one of them or even both of them have your heart or not... the two will always fight for your attention... much to everyone's annoyance.

[chrystabelleblaumferge]

Imma say it

I hate Booktok and everything it represents (glorification of anti-intellectualism and overconsumption) so by extension I despise ACOTAR but the anti-SJM fandom, particularly the anti-Rhysand, anti-Feyre and anti-Feysand peeps are some of the most intelligent people who have come out of the fandom from a book series I genuinely loathe.

I find it ironic yet charming that the anti side of this fandom is actually filled with brilliant and bright minds as opposed to the "pro" side of that fandom who speak and act like they've been programmed by a cult to repeat the same type of opinions like a broken record. The people accused of being "vile and hateful" happened to be some of the best human beings I've ever interacted with and are willing to listen to dissenting opinions and debate in a civil manner.

In contrast, the "pro" side of the fandom who love everything these books represent are generally some of the most unpleasant and vile people I've had the displeasure of encountering. I was already uninterested in the series but was peer pressured by an insane fangirl of this series to read it expecting me to love "the twist" and the same characters she does (*cough* Feysand *coughs*). I cut her off for being a generally horrid person over a damn book all because I dared to speak my mind (she threatened physical violence over my honest critique).

I'm a general fantasy reader (think JRR Tolkien, George RR Martin, Brandon Sanderson et al.) and do not like romance books therefore dislike romantasy in general since I am not the target audience for these books. I only "read", by that I meant pirating these books to form my opinion on them, will never buy them since they're rubbish and not worth my money (plus I hate the author for being a shit human being and would never give her my money). It was bleh and I found it painful to read since I've read fanfiction that was written more eloquently than this SJM-produced slop. I always hated bad boys even as a teenage girl and that sentiment still remains as an adult. So imagine how I physically cringed when the love interests were switched.

Getting back on topic to the "pro-side", they were genuinely hateful despite their incessant preaching about "love conquers all" and on multiple occasions loved telling me I should die (classy...) for voicing my honest critique that I didn't like it. What's more, is that the common sentiment of the "pro-side" was to coerce and brainwash me into liking 'le main characters' and how I had 'internalised misogyny' for not liking something I only consider as fairy porn with no substance to keep me engaged lmao

The best part is that I'm not even a shipper of their rival ship Feylin, Tamlin, or Nesta. I am ambivalent towards them at best but I started sympathising with them given that the story made me hate the main characters and their 'Inner Circlejerk of Bougie Faerie Arseholes' that love wanking their 'Dear Dictator Leader: Ricespam' (I'll never spell his name correctly since I hate rapists like him). It also helps that the fans of these 'antagonist characters' are genuinely nice and pleasant people. I'm almost tempted to so say I love Tamlin/Nesta just to rustle the Feysand cultists' jimmies lol

It seems like they only use "feminism" when it's on their side. Not bothering to accept contrasting viewpoints from women such as myself who do not like a book and are within our rights to do so. What's even surprising is that the pro-fandom is overwhelmingly like this. They'd bully you into submission if you don't kowtow to their demands. Having been bullied in my childhood, I can absolutely recognise the same pattern of abuse that I've been inflicted on in the past. Therefore, this produced the inverse effect than the one they had anticipated. I started hating their self-insert Feyre and Ricespam even more. If they weren't so toxic, I would have just remained a general hater but them acting like Jehovah's Witnesses over a shitty book definitely made me spiteful.

All I can say is: I'll never be a fan of these books nor part of the fandom because I consider it mid. But I do enjoy the thoughtful criticism the antis of said fandom provide and will likely continue hating the pro-side of the fandom for being hateful bigots (especially the Feysand shippers, never met a nice one. Not even once).

[nocturnalpl4gue]

༊ ⊹ ˚. Yan!Enki and Ragnvaldr x reader 🕸️

CW: Obsessive behaviour, guilt tripping (Enki being Enki), depiction of violent urges, being tied up, bloodplay, biting, borderline cannibalism as a love metaphor, friends to one-sided enemies, slightly suggestive.

Enki never thought of himself as the affectionate type, never has and never will, but when it comes to you, oh that smile of yours, those bruised limbs from the dungeon struggles, that strong will you could consider contagious; he yearned for it all, for it to belong to him.

Those thoughts keep buzzing around in his head whilst he reads and reads on the dirty library within the main hall, while you were right next to him, looking at his irritated expression with shaky pupils and an unsteady breath. He couldn’t focus with you like this, or him filled with so many thoughts by that matter.

“i can’t focus with you staring at me like that” Enki scowls. “you know, you should appreciate that i brought you here with me, and sharing my knowledge with you in the first place”. Those words make you feel like you’re pouring salt on a wound, but Enki has no ill intentions whatsoever, at least in his point of view.

You decide you look down in and stay silent, but your action is interrupted by a lanky hand grabbing your face by the cheeks, making you look up at the priest’s hollow eyes. “tch. can’t believe one can be so ungrateful” again with the foul words. He has always been the mysterious type, but this behaviour towards you was new. He has drawn sigils nearby every exit to prevent you from leaving, and still he won’t say a word unless it is to complain. He grabs your face tighter and frowns, mumbling to himself. “Why is it that you….”

What you don’t understand is he’s doing this out of pure fear. Not fear of losing, or death, or violence or whatever one could be thinking about, but fear of the feeling that creeps up to his head every time he glances at you. He wants to hold you, to grab you so tight he invades the cavities of your body and rips your heart out, to treasure it like a gem. He wants to kiss you until your skin wears out, and to know your every emotion. Love, he thinks, is something he wasn’t meant to feel. And so he doesn’t know how to behave, lost in a maze made from his own insecurities.

He sighs, trying to remember what those cheesy romance novels he read as a kid told. Enki, still with your face in his hand, plants his dry lips against yours, lapping them with an awkward lick. He looks at your shocked expression. “You don’t seem disgusted.” He mutters. “I assume that is one of the reasons why i put up with your whining.” He continues, acting all tough and indifferent as if his heart wasn’t jumping out of his chest. That kiss, if you could call it one, made everything click in his head. He needs you to be by his side at all times, to channel his insanity and transfuse it into passion. All he wanted right now from the overwhelming emotions that engulfed him, was to tear your skin apart, to pulverise your bones and carry you around like his personal doll. You’re his; the Gods predetermined you two meeting in the hellhole this dungeon is, to save each other, and stay together forever.

“You’re awfully quiet today. I hope you stay like this and follow my orders while we’re in here, or i’ll break your legs and drag you around.” He had this threatening aura around him as these words spewed out his mouth. But it wasn’t with an ill intent, no? He loved you after all, he thinks so at least.

All this was for your own good, he convinces himself; you need him to stay alive, otherwise you’d be mutilated on the floor for the guards to take pleasure with already. So of course you love him, you have to. And he loves you too, for the rest of eternity.

Even an outlander such as Ragnvaldr has felt love once, but he has also felt sorrow, rage and pain. Those former emotions that haunted him still haunt him now, and are very present in his actions. Alas here he was, covered in blood from head to toe. It’s hard to see which is the enemy’s and which is his own.

The dungeon remains radio silent for the first time in possibly decades, or even centuries. The guards were no more, and so were the lizardmen, yellow mages, cave dwellers, a man who seemed to become a God, and the list goes on. He killed them all. His revenge has been fulfilled, so what now? It was only you and him traversing the passageways and bloody pits that kept him entertained.

Ah, that’s right. You. You’re a nice one to be with, aren’t you? So kind of you to stay by his side while he tainted the walls red, while his bloodlust was satiated. You were like a little lost dog always stepping on your tail, grabbing onto the outlander’s cape to encourage yourself to take another step. And he enjoys that a lot, the fact that you’re always latched to him made him feel the same about you, craving your touch and presence at all times.

So here you were, in a dark, musty room with your arms and legs tied up with your own torn clothing. The humid cold breeze hit the cuts and wounds decorating your body, making you flinch. But what makes you straight up wince is the sound of echoed steps coming closer. It was Ragnvaldr, the man who saved you countless times and you developed a bond with, who now looked at you over your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re alright while i was out. I found some resources.” He says while crouching next to you. “Here, i got you some bread” You look at him numbly as he pulls out a piece of bread, surprisingly in a fairly good state. “Open up” He directs the piece to you mouth but it remains sealed tight, refusing whatever he gave you. You’d rather starve than accept what the man you used to trust with your life provided. He however wasn’t having it, looking at you with a light frown and pressing the fingers of his free hand against your lips. Without saying a word, he pushes until his fingers enter your warm mouth, opening it with spit coating his hand. With that, he tears a piece of the bread and puts it between your palate and jaw, forcing you to chew on it.

“See? it wasn’t that hard…you need to eat or you will die here, cold and in pain.” He says as if nothing was wrong. Ever since some time ago, could be weeks or days, you lost count at this point, the outlander has been acting out of his mind. At first you thought the insanity of the dungeon got to him, but he reassured you he was okay, that if you were there with him everything was okay. He killed the monsters in gruesome ways, tearing their tendons out with his teeth and crushing their heads with a stomp. It was like he was letting out emotions he didn’t want to go through, and now they all burst out onto an obsessive love and overprotection.

He loves you so much, he really does. So much that he starts shaking while looking at his fingers full of spit, embracing you tightly with his nails damaging your exposed back. It stung. His embrace got tighter, and tighter, much like a snake that caught its prey. He wasn’t letting go, his shaking getting heavier and laboured breathing leaving his mouth. “i love you.” he says. “i love you, i love you” He just keeps on repeating the same sentence over and over, that is until he, without a single thought in his head, bites down hard on your collarbone. You let out a hiss and try to push him off, but he’s too heavy. He just keeps gnawing and clenching his jaw around the bony appendage, so much that blood falls much like the tears around your eyes.

“It hurts….” You manage to let out. But he’s not listening. Much like a hound he has gone absolutely feral, embracing your entirety with his bulky body. His hands claw onto your spine leaving marks, and his legs are wrapped around your waist. He lets go, and switches to your neck, biting just as hard. Like he was starving he licks the blood away, no kisses and no passion put into it, just pure desperation. After protesting more and more the pain just numbs out with the rest, and you decide to relax, and stay in his arms while he devours you away. “i love you” he says, and your mind goes blank.

[taeyongdoyoung]

act three: i might kill my ex

summary: unable to sleep, you try to think of something that will finally free you from the demons of your past... characters: reader, heeseung, sunoo, sunghoon, jay, jake, jungwon (mentioned only) genre: thriller, dark romance(-ish) warnings: insomnia, trauma, prison visit, allusions to prison violence, threats, nightmares, guns, tattoos, illegal activities, breaking in, manipulation, toxic ex, cops, blood, murder (?), suicide (?), songs+scream movie references author's note: hello everyone! the title is inspired by the scream movies and this awesome song, once again this can be triggering for some so read at your own discretion! 💙 also, this is the final part of my scream trilogy, check out the other parts if you're interested: part one & part two word count: 3k

Another sleepless night. Even though Sunoo is in prison and you now live with Heeseung as his place is better protected from breaking and entering, the mere thought of Sunghoon roaming around freely is enough to make every second of your existence a living hell. You wish the cops would take your testimony more seriously but the lack of fingerprints works magically in his favour.

You feel like a burden to your boyfriend. You follow him around like a lovesick puppy everywhere - to his work, to the gym, to the supermarket. You don't dare leave his side for fear that the second you do, something bad will happen and Sunghoon will be back and take you again. You hate being like this. You ask Heeseung multiple times if he's really okay with you being clingy and he patiently answers each time that your well-being is the most important to him and that he seriously doesn't mind you being around him all the time.

But you do. So you try to take baby steps. The first one being something you've been planning to do for a while. And finally gathered the courage to do. Visit Sunoo in prison.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Heeseung asks cautiously, gripping your hands.

"I can do it. There will be guards and cameras and stuff, I will be safe," you promise.

"No, I'm aware you'll be physically safe but are you sure you're ready for this? I'm talking about the mental aspects of it..."

You nod, thinking about how lucky you are to have such a considerate, warm boyfriend.

"I think I'm ready. I don't wanna be your shadow all the time. I gotta learn how to be my own person again. I figured this was a good a place to start as any."

"You're very ambitious, but okay. You know I love it that you're next to me, right? I feel safer myself when I can see you," Heeseung murmurs reassuringly.

"I know, I know," you repeat, giving him a hug. "But I gotta do this for myself."

"I trust you," your sweet boyfriend replies.

This. This is why Heeseung will always be your choice. The fact he sticks by your side and trusts you unconditionally is something Sunghoon could never achieve.

When the hours for visitation arrive, you are all nerves. Gone is the confident you that was sooo sure she could do this by herself. But you have to be stronger. So, you face your former best friend.

"Hi, Sunnie," you greet him calmly.

"N-noona, you c-came to see me," Sunoo's eyes are watery with emotion and he looks a little battered. Oh God. You don't want to imagine how hard prison life is on him. He looks so pitiful and small. But then, you remind yourself of the reality. He betrayed you and helped Sunghoon kidnap you. He's just facing the consequences for his own actions. But still...You can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for him.

"Of course I came. You're my best friend, right?"

"I don't deserve to be your best friend," Sunoo shakes his head. Good. At least he's aware of it.

"You're right, you don't," you say coldly. "And I might be an idiot but I still don't. So I'll give you an offer. Ask for a retrial, tell the truth about Sunghoon, tell them he forced you to help him and you'll get a lower sentence. From five to three years. And I'll consider forgiving you."

"I can't do that, Y/Nnie," Sunoo shakes his head.

"He will never love you. I know it, you know it, we all know it."

"It's not about that anymore. If I tell on him, he's gonna kill me," Sunoo whispers, terrified.

"Did he threaten you?"

Sunoo nods, looking around as if to make sure no one else saw or heard.

"Fucking hell, Sunoo, then all the more reason for you to testify against him! So the cops will take action and capture him."

"Easy for you to say. He could send money to some of the prisoners and I could end up dying in here."

"Well, you might die in here but I might die out there, have you ever thought about that?" you exclaim angrily.

"He won't kill you."

"You can't know that," you strongly disagree. "Just think about it, okay? You might be saving two lives by telling the truth."

Sunoo sighs deeply.

"I'll sleep on it, alright. How have you been, though?"

"Oh, suddenly he cares! I'm holding up, I guess. I can't exactly erase the traumatic memories of being kidnapped by my best friend and my ex."

"I'm sorry. I mean it," Sunoo says sincerely. And maybe he really does mean it.

Because three days later you receive a call from the police that Sunoo has asked for a retrial and he testified against Sunghoon, telling the whole truth. Even with no fingerprints, his statement, along with yours, holds more power now. And the police will start investigating further and looking for Sunghoon. That's some progress, at least.

But it's not enough. You still have a hard time falling asleep. 2-3 hours per night tops. And whenever you do sleep, you are haunted by terrifying nightmares and traumatic memories. It can't go on like this. You need something more. Something to help you feel safe.

"I need to ask you for a huge favour," you talk to Heeseung one afternoon.

"Oh?"

"It's illegal," you mention the seriousness of it.

"OH?" Heeseung is in shock.

"I need you to help me get a gun."

"Babe, what? You're not gonna do anything stupid, right?"

"Stupid is my middle name. No, but seriously. I just think I'll feel safer if I have it. For like...potential self-defense. If you know who manages to get to me. If I happen to be alone."

Heeseung shakes his head fearfully.

"I don't want to leave you alone," he insists.

"You're not my babysitter, Hee. Sooner or later, it'll happen. And I just wanna be prepared. A precaution, nothing more. I'm not planning to actively look for him," the way you say the last word is full of bitterness and anger. "But if he comes, I'll be ready."

"Okay, um," Heeseung replies reluctantly. "I have this American friend. His name's Jay, he's a total sweetheart but he might be able to hook you up with a gun. You know, just for self-defense purposes."

"Sounds perfect. Thanks so much, Hee," you squeeze his hand, already looking forward to it. Maybe that will help you sleep better at night.

You meet Heeseung's friend Jay at a lowkey shady looking place that is a tattoo parlour. Jay himself has lots of tattoos of eagles and ravens and cats. Damn, you might consider getting a tattoo yourself one day. If you survive this shithole that has been the past few months.

"Nice to meet you," you shake his hand.

"Likewise," Jay responds firmly. "Heeseung talks about you like all the time."

"That's weird 'cause I only found out about you recently," you reply, honest to a fault.

"Ouch. I don't blame him, though. If my girlfriend was so beautiful, I wouldn't want her to meet any of my friends," Jay jokes.

"I'm flattered but uh-"

"Relax, sweetheart. I have a boyfriend. And even if I didn't, you're not my type."

"Point taken," you shake your head in amusement. "So, I can get the story behind the eagles but what's with the cats?" you ask curiously, pointing at his tattoos.

"They're meant to represent my love for my cat-like boyfriend Jungwon. He's a real cutie. I feel like you two would really get along. We should go on a double date sometime!"

"That's kinda weird but in an adorable way," you chuckle. "And I'm game for the double date thing."

"So, let's get down to business."

"To defeat the Huns?" you finish the thought.

Jay eyes you strangely. Okay, not a Mulan fan but has tons of cat tattoos. You can get past that.

"Hee told me you want a gun?"

"Um, yeah. As a precaution. For potential self-defense against my shitty ex who kidnapped me."

"Do you have any preference in mind? In terms of weight or design?"

"I don't know anything about that. Whatever you recommend is good. Just something that will help me sleep comfortably, I guess."

"I have a couple of options, I'll let you try them out. There's also a shooting range underneath the tattoo parlour. I'll show you a couple of tricks, just in case."

"That sounds amazing," you reply enthusiastically. "It's more than I could ask for. Seriously, thanks!"

"Anything for my friend's girlfriend," Jay shrugs as if it's not a big deal.

After trying out a couple of guns and Jay showing you the ropes of shooting, you feel more confident and pick the weapon that speaks to you the most.

"This one," you whisper, enthralled by how light and yet powerful it feels.

"Good choice," Jay hums approvingly. "Well, I hope this whole situation ends for you soon and stay safe."

"Thank you for everything."

"Don't forget about that double date!"

"I won't," you promise and you hope that happy day comes sooner rather than never.

Time passes and there is no trace of Sunghoon. As if he was a ghost you imagined. But you know better. You know he's out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Let him come. You're ready now.

Heeseung receives an amazing job opportunity that would entail him going abroad for one week. You encourage him to take it. He's really worried about leaving you alone. But you know you can handle this.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, I'll be fine, don't worry."

"What will you do if something bad happens?"

"I'll call you or your cop friend Jake or your lowkey sus friend Jay."

"Good girl," Heeseung praises you and kisses you gently. "And if your phone isn't nearby for some reason?"

"I'll use the gun only in self-defense."

"Right. Um, I love you, baby," Heeseung hugs you tightly.

"Love you too, Hee."

"Be back soon," he promises.

"You better," you smile.

Night comes and you are more uneasy than ever. You have been sleeping better lately with Heeseung by your side and the gun under your pillow. What has become of your life?

You make peace with the fact you probably won't get much sleep during the following week. It's okay. You'll get to sleep forever one day. But not today, Satan.

And then, speak of the devil, you hear it. A sound you know all too well. A door being attacked. But this time, he doesn't have a key. And uses something that is perhaps a bobby pin. He is slower. And you are fast. Your right hand is on your gun in no time and your left hand is on your phone. It might not even be him, but you don't care. Heeseung must be on the plane right now since he doesn't pick up so you call his cop friend Jake.

"Hi, Y/N, is everything okay?" he picks up immediately.

"Hi, Jake, someone is trying to enter Heeseung's place right now. I mean...our place."

"Oh my God, I'll assemble a squad and we're on our way! Don't do anything stupid!" Jake advises you. Heeseung might have told him you own a gun now. Oh well. You know Heeseung trusts Jake so you probably won't get in trouble with the police.

"I'll try," you chuckle and hang up. You send a quick text to Jay, informing him of the circumstances and just as you hit send, the door clicks.

He's in.

"Hi, princess," Sunghoon greets you. Oh, he looks so angry he hasn't seen you in ages. Good. Anger is good.

"Stay back," you warn him warily, pointing the gun at him.

"Aw, you're not happy to see me?" Sunghoon pouts in disappointment.

"You look like shit, Sunghoon," you hiss.

"Gee, thanks. You're as beautiful as ever," he compliments you.

"I know," you say even though you don't feel beautiful. You have dark circles under your eyes, your hair is greying from all the stress and your mental health has never been worse. But you're still here, fighting against all odds.

"Come back to me, Y/N," Sunghoon begs, straight to the point.

"Never," you shake your head with determination, tears clouding your vision. Fuck, you hate that you still get so emotional when facing him. It's a weakness that might be your downfall. But you won't let it.

"Were you pretending when you said you can learn to love me again?"

"I could never love you," you admit honestly. "And neither can you."

"N-no, that's not true," Sunghoon argues. "Just come with me, please. No one has to get hurt. Not Heeseung, not Sunoo. Just us two and everyone you care about will be safe."

Heeseung's on a plane right now. Sunoo's in prison. As much as your heart is telling you that Sunghoon could really hurt them, your mind is aware that he no longer has any power. The power is in your hands right now. Jake and the cops are on their way. But they'll be too slow.

"Well, that's too bad, 'cause I only ever cared about myself," you smirk coldly.

"You don't. You're full of love and light and warmth," Sunghoon insists blindly.

"Not anymore. You took them from me. I'd ask you to give them back but I don't think you can," you say openly. You don't even believe half of what you're saying. But that doesn't matter. You just have to make him believe it.

Sunghoon pulls out his own gun, pointing it at you. A mirror image. Did you make him worse? Or did he make you worse? You don't know. And you no longer care.

"Well, if I can't have you, no one will," Sunghoon glares at you.

"Not in my movie!" you scream.

You genuinely cannot tell who fires the gun first.

You can only hope it's you.

The End

author's note: if you like open endings, you may stop reading here. if you don't like them and are not satisfied with the uncertainty, keep reading for three possible endings i have in my head 🖤

Ending One: I hope you die first

Your whole body is shaking and your hands are covered in blood.

It's over. Sunghoon's dead. You really killed him. You can't believe it.

As you hear the police sirens surrounding you, you suddenly feel dizzy.

When the time for a trial comes, the court rules it was in self-defense. Considering how Sunghoon stalked and kidnapped you, the law is lenient towards you and you get away with a fine for owning an illegal gun. Well, having a cop friend also helps.

You spend the rest of your days surrounded by people you care about. Heeseung is always by your side, supporting you through everything. You can't imagine making it this far without him. And Sunoo serves his three years in prison. Once he's out of jail, he makes it his mission to make you forgive him. Slowly, he creeps back into your life. And you let him. Somehow time has eased the hurt from the betrayal.

There are happy moments, there are sad moments and then there are the moments when you just feel empty.

But the guilt and pain stay with you. Your forever companions. Sure, you are free from Sunghoon. But you can never be free from yourself.

Ending Two: I See Red

Sunghoon drops on his knees the moment he realizes what he's done. Fuck. You're gone. He killed you. The one and only being he truly loved. Or deluded himself into thinking he loves you. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he wasn't even capable of it.

With no reason left to go on, he points the gun at himself, pulling the trigger. Maybe in another life, he'll do better. Maybe you'll meet again.

The cops and Jake at the crime scene they're immediately struck by the sight of the two bodies. Sunghoon's hand is reaching towards yours but your face is turned to the other direction. Even in death, you don't want to look at him. Alas, they came too late.

When Heeseung learns of your death, he is completely devastated and heartbroken. Miles and miles away, he cannot even get to your funeral on time. At first, he contemplates doing what your ex did to himself. But he knows you wouldn't want that from him.

So, he spends the rest of his life trying to help victims of abuse or kidnappings, aiding the police whatever way he can and organizing therapy sessions. It's not much, but he'd like to believe he's making a difference.

As time passes, the pain is still there, but diminishes in magnitude. Heeseung eventually finds comfort and love in the arms of his friend Jake. But a part of his heart stays there with you, in that cursed night.

Ending Three: Scream cause we wanna go faster

Both guns fire at roughly the same time. Both you and Sunghoon apparently suck at aiming them. You manage to injure each other, but nothing lethal. Seconds later, the police arrive, apprehending Sunghoon. The medics show up soon after and take care of you.

Sunghoon gets a life sentence for stalking, kidnapping and attempted murder. You don't visit him. Not even once. You don't want to see him, not even to gloat. That chapter of your book is over. Your only wish is to put it behind you for good.

Heeseung finds out about what happened right as his plane lands and he wants to return as soon as possible but you tell him to finish his work and then come back to you. Now, you will have all the time in the world.

"Welcome back, Hee," you greet him at the airport once he returns.

"My God, darling, I'm so glad you're okay," your boyfriend hugs you tightly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Of course, I'm okay. I promised Jay we'd go on a double date with him and Jungwon, didn't I? And I always keep my promises," you tease.

"Damn right, you do," Heeseung laughs. "But seriously, just thinking about what might have happened, I feel sick."

"Well, let's just be glad it didn't," you kiss him deeply.

In another universe, maybe you're dead. In a different world, maybe Sunghoon died.

But this is your world. Your movie. And you just pressed play.

The End (for real this time)

[thedecoy-if]

It occurs to you just then, the true depth of your helplessness: you've been taken to another universe, alone with no way home, you're stuck prisoner, your phone has no signal...and they don't even know what Wi-Fi is. Yeah. You're screwed.

DEMO (3/04/2023) ♔ FORUM POST ♔ ARTBREEDERS

♔ The Decoy is a dark fantasy that follows you, a 21st century normal human, kidnapped to an alternate magical universe to play the part of the missing heir to a powerful throne...who also happens to be your doppelgänger. ♔

Life, for the most part, has been all-around uneventful. You work in Manhattan at a convenience store under a sleazy boss in order to scrape by and support your struggling family. Your dad is absent, your mom is too tired to parent, one brother is getting arrested while the other has detached himself from the life he once had. Still, while your days as a twenty-something employee are mundane, at least they're predictable.

Meanwhile, in another realm, the magical dark world of Eterna is in ruin. A war against an entity and his bloodthirsty creatures is brewing, and after the powerful royal family is viciously murdered and the only living child--and now rightful owner of the throne--goes missing, that evil is one step closer to winning.

But of course, that's not your problem. That's in a whole other universe, one you don't even know exists. Your biggest worry is whether you'll be able to take on a double shift tomorrow. Right?

Wrong.

Turns out the missing heir is your doppelganger. In a desperate attempt to save face and stop from losing a war before it even starts, you're kidnapped and taken to Eterna in order to play the part of the monarch, all while working behind the (bloody) scenes to find the true heir and get home.

Stuck in a world of magic and fantasy you've only ever seen in movies, an entire country--and an impending war-- is now dependent on how well you can act.

No pressure.

The Decoy is rated 18+ for dark themes, violence, and explicit content.

FEATURES

Customize your MC from gender identity, pronouns, personality, and appearance.

Choose whether to adapt to this new world or reject it, whether to be defiant or not. Pick what kind of monarch you'll lead as and take full advantage of your new royal identity.

Build yourself up in this new world, focus on honing combat or knowledge of the realm, choose a preferred choice of weapon and more.

Romance one of eight ROs (two male, two female, one nonbinary, three gender selectable) with a variety of backgrounds and magical types. Some more dangerous than others.

Maybe teach your new makeshift gang what television is? Hopefully find some signal for your phone? (not going to happen).

CHARACTERS + ROs

SERIDA/SOREN/SAHAR CRETILLON (m/f/nb , identity dependent on player choice ): the successor to the throne and only living person left in the Cretillon line, S has gone missing not long after the slaughter that murdered their entire family. People have been waiting for them to be coronated in order to plan their next move, but they're now gone without a trace and without them and the power that binds them together, Eterna is vulnerable. That's where you come in.

AZRIEL DAMARIS [RO] (m, he/him): once S's primary royal guard, Azriel has been promoted as the general of the Eternan army and head of the operation to save S. Stiff, serious, and severe, Azriel is tasked with being guard and guiding you through the world of politics and royalty. Unfortunately, Azriel doesn't want you here and he doesn't do much to hide it.

NAMARA AL-LUVEN: [RO] (f, she/her) Azriel's second, Namara is a fierce warrior and loyal to the cause. She's quite difficult to read, distant considering who you are.

DRENWIN SILVA: [RO](m, he/him): a skilled Mage and jester, Drenwin works alongside the Eternan army and puts his skills to work. He seems to be the most approachable of the bunch, which isn't saying much.

VALE: [RO](nb, they/them) the boisterous, flirtatious and arrogant mercenary turned pirate captain of The Lady Mystica. Vale exists simply to make and spend as much coin as possible while engaging in their harem and abundance of bad habits.

CERIS BESILLE [RO] (selectable, she/her, he/him, they/them): a priest-in-training, Ceris is fiercely devoted to their beliefs. Reserved and easily scandalized, they haven't left their quarters in the church since they were twelve, contributing to their lack of outside experience and rather insular outlook on the world.

TALEEA FAREWYN [RO] - (she/her) A half-fae Healer, Taleea follows alongside you as your right hand. She seems to be the only one empathetic to your circumstances, but it's hard to trust anyone in this world, especially someone who is so keen on being...nice.

ARWEN/ARYA VALARIN: [RO] (selectable, she/her, he/him): A Valarin is S's childhood friend and their arranged betrothed. A has been S's other half since they were kids, which means you need to be extra careful around them. They have no idea you're not S and judging from your orders, it's better they never find out.

????? [RO?] (gender selectable) -- They are actively hunting you.

[eetherealgoddess]

hey bestie. requesting a yandere rindou haitanj scenario where reader (cis fem) is currently dating Ran, but rindou is obsessed with her and wants her for himself. a noncon smut where ran leaves reader at home for some reason and rindou takes the opportunity to do the noncon smut and ran ends up catching them, but instead of getting mad, ran just joins them. 💜🖤

Of course!! Hope you like it ♡︎♡︎♡︎

ꨄBrothers Conflictꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Haitani Brothers Au

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Brothers Conflict

Being a Haitani’s girlfriend comes with its perks. Not only is Ran an attentive boyfriend, he loves to spoil his girl with all the finer things. Jewelry, makeup, clothes, nails, you name it, it’s done. It was a done deal as soon as he set his eyes on you. It was interesting considering you were the pursuer at first, having a small crush that grew into something more. Finally, ignoring all of your anxiety you confessed, only to find out that he had the same feelings.

Considering it’s hard to read his emotions, you had no idea that he had been thinking about you as much as you thought about him. It was a wholesome moment when he accepted your confession and surprised you with his own gift the next day to properly ask you to be his official girlfriend. It almost felt too good to be true.

After the first hang out, you met his brother Rin. Unfortunately, the awkward meeting resulted in his subtle insults at the dinner table along with the scowl plastered on his face. Worried that you had crossed a boundary of some sort, Ran reassured you that he acted that way with all his girlfriends and explained that he was just being a protective younger brother.

Brushing it off, you let go of your anxious thoughts and continued on as a normal girlfriend. A few months pass and the tension flees, though you still catch Rin’s intense glare boring into you whenever you and Ran relax at their apartment. You refrained from bringing it up, not wanting to cause any problems between the two brothers.

One day, you had been watching tv as you stroked your boyfriend's hair, his head resting on your lap as he breathed steadily, indicating a deep slumber. After a while, he wakes up and slowly pushes himself off of your lap. You eye him in confusion.

“There’s something I forgot to do. I’ll be back later, babe.” He says before giving you a peck to your forehead and hopping off the sofa. He checks for his wallet in his pocket and opens the door to leave. Once the door shuts behind him, you grab your phone and pull up an app, bored out of your mind as you scroll mindlessly.

“Don’t you have your own home or something?” A voice speaks from the side of the couch. You almost jump out of your skin, you have forgotten that your boyfriend’s younger brother was home.

“Ran invited me over.” You shrug, already used to the subtle jabs to the point that they don’t really affect you as bad. He ignores you as he grabs a glass of water before walking into the living room and sitting next to you, crossing a leg. Your eyebrows furrow at his choice of seating.

“What do you see in my brother, Y/n?”

You pause for a moment, not really expecting a question like that out of nowhere. He takes a sip of the liquid as he readjusts his glasses.

“W-well, I don’t really know how to explain it other than the fact that I would take a bullet for him. I like that I can be myself around him.” You shrug. Honestly, your feelings couldn’t be explained though you know for a fact you’re smitten over the older Haitani. You had been for years prior. The excitement you felt when he accepted your confession was unlike any other happy moment you’ve had. You feel safe when you’re around him, whether to be yourself completely or physically, knowing he’s protective. Of course, this is hard to explain when you’re called out on the spot.

“What a lame answer. Are you sure you deserve my brother?” You make eye contact with him.

“Maybe not.” You sigh, “but I do love him if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to try and hurt him or anything.”

It’s a funny thing, really. You think he’s asking as a protective younger brother. Such a naive girl, though that’s something he noticed in you from the beginning. The little love letters and gifts he opened whenever he found them in his brother’s trash. The excitement he saw on your face from a distance when Ran accepted your confession, not willingly on his own but by his younger brother’s bargaining. The hue that formed on your face when you read the notes from ‘Ran,’ not realizing who they were actually written by.

The plan was easy, really. Ran asks you out so his younger brother can get closer to you. What wasn’t part of the plan was Ran falling for you mid relationship. It just wasn’t fair. He never noticed you until Rin noticed you. Of course, they argued about it. Argued over you. It was interesting how much conflict you were bringing to the brothers without even knowing it. Yes, such a naive thing.

You eye him curiously, wondering why he hadn’t answered you. After a moment of Rin lost in his thoughts, he sets the cup down and stands up. Turning towards you, he bends over and snatches you from the sofa, placing you over his shoulder as he walks to the hall of the apartment.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You exclaim as you hit his back repeatedly. Once he reached his bedroom, he shut the door before tossing you on the bed.

“Rin?”

He climbs on top of you, pinning you to the bed.

“Why? Why do you love him so fucking much?” Your eyebrows furrow as you gaze at him with confusion. You wince as his grip tightens.

“What about me? I’m the one who tried so hard to get you! I’m the one who did everything!”

“Rin, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You try to reason with him, anxious out of your mind.

“The notes, the letters, all of it! It was all me.” He hissed, nails digging into your skin. “It was all a plan!”

“What? N-no.” You say in denial. You were so happy when Ran finally decided to give you attention within your relationship considering the beginning of it was a little confusing. You take a moment to think back to those detailed notes that stated things only Ran should know. Was it really all a ploy?

The younger Haitani smirks. “Yes, your precious boyfriend lied to you. Multiple times. He didn’t even have feelings for you until recently.” Tears threaten to fall as a familiar lump forms in your throat.

“N-no. Please, stop saying those things.” You hold back from crying, no longer in denial though not wanting to continue to hear anymore of what was coming out of his mouth.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to wake up, Y/n. It’s time you give back to me.” He states, removing his glasses and setting them down. You take the opportunity to use your free hand to slap him.

“Get off of me!” You shout angrily, tears finally spilling. You just want to leave and sulk by yourself. Rotting in your bed as you send Ran a break up text.

Instead of pinning the arm down, he ignores your outburst by grabbing your neck and lowering his face.

“If you bite me, I will fuck you up.” He promised with a deranged glint in his eyes. You could only stare in horror as he brought his lips to yours. He moves his lips along you hungrily before piercing his tongue through, saliva sliding out of your mouth as you don’t respond.

Using your free hand, you attempt to shove him by the shoulder though it doesn’t work. When he pulls back, he stops for a moment to wipe his mouth and gaze at your eyes. Before you could stop him, his face nuzzled between your shoulder and neck, piling kisses slowly up your skin as you grip his shoulder.

“Rin, don’t do this.” You cry, ignored as he uses both of his hands to tear your shirt. You gasp as the cold air hits your skin, the shirt torn apart, revealing your bare breasts considering you didn’t wear a bra today. His hands grab your mounds, gently squeezing as he releases a quiet moan.

“I was angry the first time I saw you and my brother have sex.” He lowers his head as he sucks one of the nipples, flicking his tongue before closing his lips around the nub once more. A heartbeat forms from your clit as you slightly arch your back from the chill that runs up your spine.

“Rin, please stop.” Your voice cracked, still hurt from the words before though frustrated with the reaction your body is emitting. He makes eye contact with heavy lids.

“But then, I couldn’t help but watch. Your intoxicating moans drew me in, Y/n.” His husky voice vibrated against your nipple, his lips barely touching the nub as he speaks, breath causing your nipple to harden.

“Such a slutty girl. Legs wide open for my brother, begging for more.” He returns to sucking, along with one of his hands easing down to your pants, unhooking them before sliding into your panties.

“Rin.” You whisper. “Just wait, please. W-we can talk about this.” You bite your lip when you feel his finger push against your clit. He slowly rolls his finger against the nub, eyeing you as he continues to lick your nipple. His other hand fondles the other breast, pulling and rubbing circles on your nipple. Your hands held his shoulders, pushing him once more, to no avail.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about your face and how it looked when he was eating you out. The way you rubbed your pussy against his face. I came so hard thinking about you, baby.” He whispers the last sentence.

Your fingers tighten against his shirt as he accelerates his finger against your pussy. Your hips twitch as your head falls back. You felt the juice fall out of your pussy as he gave another lick to your nipple.

Suddenly, he pulls his hand out and sits up. He moves off of you and swiftly pulls your pants off. You try sitting up only to be pushed down before he tears your panties off.

“Rin! This is wrong!”

He ignores you as he opens your legs, fitting himself in between as he holds your thighs down. He doesn’t give you a chance before his lips circle around your clit. Your hips jolt up as you grab his head as an attempt to push him away. His grip only tightens around your thighs, squeezing his arms around painfully as well as using his nails to leave indents, eyeing you from below. You yelp in pain as you fall back, the pleasure of his tongue flicking your nub conflicting with your emotions.

“Well, brother. This was quicker than I thought.” A voice comes from the doorway. You look up surprised to see your boyfriend.

“Ran, i-it’s not what it looks like! I swear!” You cry out.

“It’s okay, baby. I know.” He sighs as he sits behind you, positioning himself to lean against the headboard as your back leans against him.

“I know I have some explaining to do. We can talk about it later, alright? Just relax.” He circles his arms around your waist, his hands moving to hold your breasts as he leaves a trail of kisses on your shoulder.

Rin uses his fingers to gather your slick before pressing two of them inside of you, angling it to hit your g-spot steadily as he continues sucking and licking your clit. You couldn’t help but thrust your hips to force his fingers deeper, releasing a moan before heavily breathing as the overwhelming sensation takes over your body. Your eyes fall into the back of your head as you lay against Ran.

“I just want you to know that I love you so much, even if our relationship didn’t start off as ideal.” Ran softly speaks against your ear while pinching and fondling your nipples.

“W-why did you, ah… lie to… fuck! Lie to me?”

“Oh God!” You exclaim as Rin continues to bring you closer to the edge, accelerating once more as the sounds of your wet pussy fills the room. You feel Ran’s hardened cock against your back.

“I said we’ll talk about it later.” He uses one hand to pull your chin back, landing a passionate kiss on your lips as your body moves against him, grinding your hips against Rin’s face as he adds another finger.

“I-I’m gonna…ah!” You moan as you finally release, Rin lapping up all your juices as your body convulses.

When Rin moves from your legs, he removes his pants as Ran gently shifts you on your knees. You breathe heavily as your legs tremble from your orgasm. Rin guides you on top of himself as you weakly rest your head on his shoulder.

“W-wait! What about a condom?” You say against his neck.

“It’ll be a Haitani either way.” Ran states as he removes his own pants.

Before you could respond, Rin pulls you down as he shoves his cock all the way in. Both of you groan as the feeling of your pussy is stretched and wrapped tightly around his girth. His arms wrap around your back as he holds it there. You feel Ran spread your cheeks before he uses your leaking cream and his own saliva to rub against his cock. He eased the head in, a pain shooting through your back as you whimpered against Rin’s neck.

“I’m gonna fuck this pussy so good.” Rin breathes out before pulling back and rocking his hips forward. Ran shoves himself all the way in as he grips your ass, pulling himself back before slamming in.

They both rock their hips, gradually accelerating as all of your moans and heavy breathing filled the air. The pain mixes in with the pleasure before it engulfs you fully, your mouth held open as your body rocks in between them. Your hands hold onto Rin’s shoulders tightly as you’re plowed from both holes.

“So good. Such a good fucking girl.” The blonde says as he picks up the pace. His head falls back as your sweat mixes with his. “I waited so long, Y/n. You have no idea… fuck! How many… ah! Times I’ve cum to you.”

In a twisted way, the words he spills out of his mouth causes another aching throb to hit your pussy, clenching around him as you both make eye contact.

Ran accelerates his speed, turned on by the display of you getting double penetrated by both of them. He smiles as the scenarios fly through his mind of you naked and waiting for them to come home. Another twitch of his cock forms from the ideas.

After a few minutes of his cock making contact with your g-spot and your boyfriend’s cock filling your ass, you squeeze your eyes shut as you subconsciously bite into Rin’s shoulder, orgasming. Your bite causes him to groan out before pressing himself deep inside you and releasing his load. Ran follows not long after, his cum leaking out of your ass as he pushes against you. Breathing heavily, Ran removes himself from you, pulling you into his arms as well as Rin hugging you from behind.

When you caught your breath, you attempted to sit up from your position, anger lingering from the truth spoken earlier.

“We need to talk.” You say to both of them who only ignore you as they hold you in place, dozing off into a deep slumber as you follow not long after.

[mononijikayu]

water is fine — ryomen sukuna.

You tried to fight, over and over. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to drown. But against your little body, the force of the water was one that it could not fight. The water enveloped you, pulling you down into its depths. You felt your eyes starting to close. You felt like you were losing your soul. All you could think about was your brother. How you had to come back, because he’d be looking for you.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: water is fine by chloe ament.

note: this was longer than i wanted to be, but it took longer because i was waiting for this one to be beta read by a friend. they loved this chapter and they got curious so asked about my plans moving forward. and needless to say, i feel like im gege akutami!!! please enjoy the chapter~ i'll see you in the next one!!! i love you~

YOU WERE THERE AGAIN. You were happy to admit that you hated it. In the dark embrace of the night, Ryomen You found that it was like being transported back to yesterday. It felt like yesterday. to one of the most harrowing summers of your life—that horrible, bloody, summer.

You think you’d never forget the most eventful day of your young life. But dreams were either tender to the righteous and suffering to a sinner. Truth be told, you had always considered yourself a sinner. Because if you were not, the gods would not be willing to punish you. You would not be atoning. Otherwise, nii-sama would still be alive and well. 

The Ryomen clan, though not as prominent as the Fujiwara, held an ancient lineage that commanded respect within the world of jujutsu. Their roots ran deep, intertwined with the very fabric of history, marking them as a force to be reckoned with despite their relatively smaller stature compared to the Fujiwara. It was a legacy that had been upheld through generations, nurtured by the strength of their traditions and the power of their bloodline.

Yet, for all their strength, the Ryomen clan had always found themselves at odds with the Fujiwara. The two families had a long and tumultuous history, marked by countless conflicts and rivalries that had spanned centuries. From minor skirmishes to full-blown wars, their animosity had left scars that ran deep, staining the fabric of their shared past with bloodshed and bitterness.

It was in this turbulent landscape that you and your brother had been raised, caught between the echoes of ancient feuds and the weight of familial duty. Your parents had sought to end the cycle of violence through marriage, forging an alliance that had brought temporary peace between the warring clans. But beneath the veneer of unity lay a marriage that was anything but equal, a union marred by resentment and unfulfilled expectations.

In truth, you had grown up in the shadow of your parents' strained relationship, in this consistent suffering of shouting matches and unpleasantries. Your life, your whole upbringing was shaped by your father's unconditional love and your mother's cold indifference. It was a dichotomy that had left its mark on you, molding you into a woman of strength and resilience, yet burdened by the weight of familial legacy.

Perhaps it was why you had grown up never knowing why your mother was that way. Until you had visited her grandfather’s fief for the first time, You had your eyes opened. Your mother’s cold eyes were the same as your old grandfather’s eyes. And it terrified you. It made your skin crawl. Father hated the trip as much as you and Akimu did. Uncle Hiramu hated everyone of mother’s kin too easily. Still, it was keeping the peace. They swallowed their pride, they swallowed their anger and their fears and moved forward.

You and your brother had continued to uphold the tradition of annual visits to their Fujiwara relatives over the years. It was a tradition born out of duty rather than genuine affection. Each visit was rigid and cold. But it reminded both of them that the fragile truce that hung between their families was like a delicate thread. Each visit was fraught with tension, a delicate dance of diplomacy and restraint as they navigated the complex web of familial politics and ancient grudges. You had loathed all of it. You didn’t want it all. But having Akimu there to hold your hand, it was enough to keep your breath.

But it was that summer where their lives changed.

The child that is within you would not know it just yet.

There was no more fighting against their written fates.

Akimu, dutiful and ever responsible, had obligations that required him to travel later than the rest of their family. As heir, Akimu had ventured out from the manor walls and into the wider bounty of the Ryomen lands. He collected taxes, he dealt with disputes, he dealt with the curses — all on behalf of their father. This time would not be divorced from that day to day. Akimu bowed steadily at the chōdō-in in front of all the spectators and smiled handsomely as a prince would. He was to be sent to collect the taxes across the lands and follow to the summer manor of the Fujiwara.  

You were not eager to let your beloved brother journey alone, rushed in front of the crowd and bowed in front of their father. You could laugh. You think you must have looked so foolish then. You begged their father to let you accompany him. Akimu’s face lit up with joy at the prospect of traveling with you, protective and proud as he was. You often think that he will only smile like that for you. That you knew then. But you will never know Akimu to have a chance to shine his smile upon someone else. If there had been someone. 

In the spacious, sunlit parlor of the Ryomen family estate, young you found your father and uncle seated together, poring over some scrolls and maps laid out on a large table. The air was filled with the weight of responsibility, as decisions made here often steered the fate of your clan. With a mixture of determination and a childlike hopefulness in your eyes, you approached, your mind set on joining your brother Akimu nii–sama on his later journey.

“Father,” You started, your voice carrying a rehearsed tone of earnestness, “I’ve been thinking a lot about my nii–sama and his trip alone to the Fujiwara clan...”

Your uncle looked up, a small softening on his features. “And what thoughts have you had, my little lady?” he inquired, already anticipating the nature of his niece’s reflections.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I want to go with him. I want to join Akimu on his journey, not just travel later with you and the others.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, setting down his brush. “It’s a long journey, You. And Akimu will be busy with his duties on the way. It won’t be a leisurely visit. I do not want you to disturb him, little one.”

“But I won’t be in the way, I promise!” Your voice took on a pleading tone, your youthful eagerness to be near your brother shining through. “I can help him! I’ve been learning maps and history. I can read it for him too! I... I just don’t want him to be alone.”

Your uncle exchanged a glance with your father, a silent conversation passing between them. “Little lady, it’s not just about being alone. It’s a matter of your safety and well-being,” your uncle explained, your voice gentle yet firm. “You are too important, little lady.”

Your shoulders slumped, but you weren’t ready to give up. You moved closer, your expression morphing into one of heartfelt moping. “Please, I’ll be careful. I’ll stay close to Akimu–nii and the guards. And... and I miss him. When he’s gone, who will teach me to hold a sword at dawn? Who will tell me stories of the stars?”

Seeing you so earnest and feeling the genuine longing in your words, your father sighed, the resistance in his eyes softening. “You’ll miss your brother that much, hm?”

You nodded vigorously, your eyes wide with hope.

Your father rubbed his chin, pondering. Then he looked at his brother, seeking his counsel without words. After a moment, your uncle snickered and just urged his brother with his smile. He nodded slightly, giving a subtle approval.

“Alright, my darling.” your father finally said, a reluctant smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “You can join Akimu’s trip. But you must promise to follow his lead and stay out of trouble. You must be helpful to your onii-sama.”

A bright, beaming smile exploded across You’s face. “Yes, Father! I promise! I’ll be so careful, and I’ll make sure Akimu–nii isn’t alone!”

As you joyously hugged your father and then your uncle who giggled at your joy, your heart swelled with excitement and gratitude. Not only would you be able to keep your beloved brother company, but you also felt a step closer to the adventures you had always dreamed about, now unfolding into reality.

When you found Akimu–nii-sama later that day in the training grounds, practicing his swordsmanship with a focus that seemed to cut through the very air around him, your steps quickened with excitement. You waited for him to complete his sequence, watching as his blade danced in the sunlight. He was so beautiful, such a perfect beacon of home for the future. You hopes that she can be worthy of serving her brother one day. You hope to be worthy of being his servant.

As he finished and wiped the sweat from his brow, You approached, barely containing your enthusiasm. "Akimu–nii!" you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the open space.

Akimu turned, his expression shifting from concentration to curiosity at the sight of his sister’s beaming face. "My little You? What brings you here with such a smile? I thought you still had lessons, hm?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face as he sensed your excitement. “Did you escape your lessons again?”

“I did not!” You pouted at her elder brother, who laughed. “I stayed, like you bid me.”

“Good girl.” He whispered, kneeling to your height and kissing your cheek. “Now, why are you so eager to run out here in the heat and endure your nii-sama and his sweatiness?”

"I asked uncle and father if I could join you on your trip, the one where we visit grandfather Fuji to the Fujiwara clan. And they said yes!" You exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I’ll read a lot of your maps, nii-sama! I promise, we will not be lost!”

Akimu's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of joy and slight concern flickering through them. "Really? You’re coming with me?" he asked, as if needing confirmation for such unexpected but welcome news. “I thought you were going to be with mother and father, little one.”

"Yes!" You nodded vigorously. "I convinced them. I told them I could help, and I promised to be good and follow all the rules."

A warm laugh escaped Akimu, and he opened his arms, inviting You into a hug. As she rushed into his embrace, he lifted her slightly off the ground, her laughter mingling with his. "That’s fantastic! I was dreading the long ride alone, and now I’ll have my favorite sister to keep me company," he said, setting her back down. “My precious little one is after all the smartest girl in the world.”

You blushed. “But I am your only sister, nii-sama.”

“But that makes you the very best one, doesn’t it? You are my only most treasured little sister.”

You’s heart swelled with pride and happiness, knowing her brother was genuinely pleased to have her along. "I can learn so much from you on the way, and maybe I can even help with some of your duties," she suggested, eager to make herself useful.

Akimu set his hand on your shoulder, his expression turning serious. "I’m sure you will, You. But remember, this trip isn’t just about learning; it’s also about being vigilant. We’ll be traveling through some unsettled territories," he cautioned, the protective brother always at the forefront. “Most of all, nii-sama will be busy on this trip too. You must keep close to me at all times, hm? I must keep you safe, little one.”

You nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of his words. "I’ll be careful, I promise. And I’ll follow your lead."

Akimu smiled, reassured by your earnestness. "I know you will. And we’ll make sure to have some fun along the way, too," he added, the twinkle returning to his eye.

But lurking in the shadows of your path were dangers you had not foreseen. Unknown to you, malevolent eyes watched, waiting for the opportunity to strike. You, despite your youth, were already seen as a valuable asset in the political games of higher clans—your hand in marriage, a prize that could sway the balance of power. Being the only daughter of the Ryomen lord, it was a battle on who should be your spouse. From the moment you were born to the cradle, your fate was sealed. It would be a disaster or it would be glorious.

For after all, the Ryomen clan's renown for producing potent sorcerers made you even more desirable. If their sons would father a child with you as soon as possible, then the creation of stronger sorcerer blood would be cemented. Everyone knew this. Most of all, Akimu, who was careful to conceal his sister’s cursed energy from the rest of the world on this delicate trip.

As you traveled, it was peaceful at first. You went from tenant to tenant and gathered the lord’s coin from them. You enjoyed playing with common children in each village, abundant in the smiles of youth. Akimu enjoyed seeing his sister be a lively child. It was often hard to see such a thing at home, more so with their mother being unkind to you. Mother disliked You. Akimu did not know why. But he knew that You deserved to be loved. For his sister was born to be a soul that thrived on being loved.

But on that same route, you stopped because of the night. Everyone was exhausted with the pace you had settled on. It had been non-stop traveling which left little rest for all. More so, Akimu could see how his sister was fatigued by it all. If you kept up with the speed, you would certainly catch a chill. And you wouldn’t be able to perform well in front of their mother’s kin. That would not do. And so, you camped under the stars, ate a bountiful meal for the night, sang some songs and went to bed.

It was then at midnight that a group of powerful cursed users came upon the camp with all their might and staged a barrage of their powers to ambush you. The attackers were ruthless, their intent clear as they overpowered the Ryomen guards and soldiers with terrifying efficiency. One after another, the campsite was filled with screams and horrors. 

Body after body, blood after blood, you screamed with your eyes wide open as your protector died one after the other. A man was coming for you. Hand tightly, brutishly— wrapped around your little body, you screamed. You felt fear pierce you for the first time. You felt tears pour out. But an arrow hit before he could do anything. You felt yourself cry out loud. Women or men, children or adults, they died before you. Died over and over again.

Your brother’s eyes tightened as he slew one enemy after another to get to you. You were a sobbing mess as Akimu checked you for injuries. But all he found was your grief and your horror, and the red pool straining your white silk kimono. He hushed you, pulling you into a hidden corner and tried to comfort you. But it was hard. His sister could not stop crying, could not stop thinking about how you were powerless. You sobbed in his arms, kept whispering apologies one after the other. He silenced you and kissed your temple.

“It’s okay.” He whispered to you, brushing your hair with his unstained hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s okay.”

Ryomen Akimu, brave and fierce, stood his ground once more as new enemies clashed against him one after another. He was fighting with a desperation born of the need to protect his sister. As he slew the last one, he took a deep breath. He looked around and saw that others were preoccupied, fighting for their lives. Flames engulfed the camp. He cannot fail here. Not here. Not when you were in danger.

Amidst the chaos, he turned to you, his voice strained with urgency. "Run to the river, get away from here! Don’t come back!" he pleaded. Your heart shattered with each word, tears streaming down your face as the reality of your fate crashed down upon you. “Please, let me do this, okay? I’ll come for you. I promise!”

With a heavy heart, you ran with tears in your eyes. You could hear your brother's final cries echoing in your ears as you sprinted towards the river. You tried to turn back but you could only gasp as you continued into the river. The water was high, unusually high. But you could not think of anything why. You were concerned about survival. About nii–sama. About their clan folk dying. The cruelty of it all. 

Hitching breath lumped at your throat as you ran and ran, still, even as your legs resisted the water’s pressure. The cold, cruel water roared beside you, swollen from the summer rains, a tumultuous escape route that mirrored the turmoil in your heart. These cursed users gave a brutal chase, their dark magic swirling around them like a malevolent storm.

Exhausted, terrified, and overwhelmed,  You could not help but strangle in a scream as you stumbled into the river. It was frightening, your body could not react any longer. There was no escape. You couldn’t escape. How you now couldn’t breathe. It felt like your body was burning. It felt like your throat was on fire. Everything was frightening, pulling and pushing. It all hurts. 

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

You tried to fight, over and over. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to drown. But against your little body, the force of the water was one that it could not fight. The water enveloped you, pulling you down into its depths. You felt your eyes starting to close. You felt like you were losing your soul. All you could think about was your brother. How you had to come back, because he’d be looking for you.

As you sank deeper and deeper, a strange, otherworldly voice reached out to you.

"What do you desire, child of Ryomen?" it asked, resonating through the water. “What does a child like you seek, before a god?”

Terror mixed with a fierce, brushing against the river’s cold weave —burning anger within you. If this was a different circumstance, there would be a different wish. There would be a joyous wish. A child’s longing. But as you lose your consciousness to the pressure of the water, you feel yourself burn with something else.

"Revenge," you gasped, your lungs filling with water, your voice a drowning whisper. "I want revenge."

The voice, deep and resonant, seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling the murky depths that surrounded you. It paused, as if considering your answer, the silence stretching into eternity as you struggled against the pull of the river.

"Revenge is a heavy burden for such young shoulders," the voice continued, its tone neither approved nor condemning. Rather, intrigued. "But if it is revenge you seek, child of Ryomen, it shall be granted. However, the path you choose will change you forever. Are you prepared to accept the consequences? To serve me?”

Your mind raced, panic and determination warring within her. You knew the weight of your request, but the loss of your kinfolk, the horror of your brother still fighting for his life, for your life, the agony of it all—they fueled that burning resolve. 

"Yes," you managed to choke out, determination collared on your voice. "I accept."

Then, just as suddenly as the nightmare began to unfold, you shook and awoke, your body drenched in sweat, your breaths ragged with fear and anguish. The room was dark, save for the soft light of the moon streaming through the window. Beside you was your beloved, wiping your tears away. Sukuna, who had returned from his late training, stirred, immediately sensing your distress.

Without a word, he reached for you, pulling your trembling body into his arms. His presence was grounding, a solid reality you clung to amidst the remnants of your haunting dream. 

"I'm here, night flower. I’m here.” Sukuna murmured, his voice a soothing balm. One that you think you will never deserve. "You're safe."

As you look at him, your face contorts into a silent sob. You buried your face in his chest, the tears came freely, each drop a release of the pent-up fear and sorrow that the dream had stirred. Sukuna held you tenderly, his arms becoming a fortress against the lingering shadows of the past, his heartbeat a steady drum that anchored you back to the safety of the present.

In his embrace, the horrors of that fateful summer day gradually receded, replaced by the warmth and security that his presence always brought. Though the pain of the loss would never fully fade, with Sukuna by your side, You found the strength to face the remnants of your nightmares, in their quiet echoes. You knew that you weren’t alone anymore. These nightmares won’t hurt you anymore. 

And so you cried and cried, his fingers tracing your hair.

You could feel the echo of morning light come through.

It will all be alright. Everything will be well from now on.

Ryomen Sukuna was there to chase the nightmares away.

SPRING WAS ALWAYS A BEAUTIFUL TIME. The morning sun bathed the Ryomen manor gardens in a soft, ethereal light, casting a tranquil spell over the lush surroundings. The koi ponds shimmered with reflected sunlight, their waters alive with vibrant hues of orange and pink. The gentle rustle of cherry blossom trees filled the air, accompanied by the distant melody of birdsong.

For you, it was a rare moment of respite amidst the flurry of activity that heralded the upcoming unity games. As preparations for the arrival of the visiting clans unfolded throughout the manor, you found solace in the quiet beauty of the garden. Leaning against the sturdy trunk of an ancient tree, you closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh, allowing the peaceful ambiance to wash over her.

You watch as a bird sits by the water's edge, the soft murmurs of the ponds mingling with the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The bird hums, looking back at you with a curious gaze. That was a new one. But it was quite clever, a witty little bird. The little bird was composing a hymn. You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet tones for a moment. It sounded almost like a tender flute to dance to. 

You think you could get used to this. It was a well deserved rest, after what has been happening. Your nightmares have been keeping you awake most nights, terrorizing you over and over again. But each time, Sukuna was there.

It was plain to you that now, you cannot truly live without him or his love. You wanted him. You wanted nothing but him. And he knew that too well. Sukuna lay with his head nestled in your lap, his eyes closed in a rare moment of stillness. You couldn't help but notice the exhaustion etched into his features, the subtle lines of tension that lingered even in repose. He hadn't slept much, you realized with a pang of concern. 

In his restless nights consumed by the weight of his responsibilities. More than that, he had been obsessed with his new developments in his sorcery. You would have scolded him. But you do not have the heart to. You were happy he was there with you, from dusk till dawn, holding his hand as he wrapped his arms around you. 

Gently, you let your fingers trail through Sukuna's hair, offering what little comfort you could. You knew how tirelessly he had been training for the curse hunt and the upcoming matches, his dedication unwavering even in the face of exhaustion. Your father had entrusted him with the honor of representing the clan and with your uncle’s own encouragement and your pride, Ryomen Sukuna accepted without another word. 

Though, he would have expressed another word had he not been respectful to your presence. He did not like Masaomi. But having to sit alongside Mikoto Masaomi as he too was chosen as the clan’s champion, it was obvious his disdain was evident. But you couldn’t blame him. He was often jealous, with how close you and Masaomi are. Masaomi after all was your personal guard.

Still, it wasn't the first time Sukuna had shouldered such expectations, you mused, recalling the countless instances over the past five years where he had fought tirelessly to uphold the honor of their clan. His relentless pursuit of victory had earned him both admiration and outrageous envy from his peers, yet Ryomen Sukuna remained undeterred in his pursuit of his success. 

As you gazed down at Sukuna, a swell of pride surged within you. Despite the burdens he bore and the challenges he faced, he remained steadfast in his commitment to their clan and to you. You marveled at his resilience, you always have. At the unwavering strength that lay beneath his weary exterior. Somehow, you like to think your love for him can only grow from here. Your heart pounded against your chest as you let your love for him flow within you.

In the tranquility of the garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature, you found yourself overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude for the bond they shared. Sukuna had been your constant companion throughout their youth, a source of comfort and support in times of need. This tender love out of it all provides you nothing but strength. Together, you and he could only navigate the intricacies of clan politics, weathered the storms of uncertainty. Hand in hand, you think you came out better for it. But they only did it together. It was all easy, because you had each other. You knew he felt the same, that he would say the same.

As you continued to stroke Sukuna's hair, a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, you knew that they would face them together, united in purpose and resolve. With Sukuna by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever trials awaited them in the days to come. He would never disappoint you in all your life— he would never let you face the world alone.

Sukuna lay with his head nestled in your lap, his eyes fixed on the dancing reflections on the surface of the water. Despite the peaceful surroundings, a furrow creased his brow, betraying the turmoil brewing beneath his calm exterior. Sukuna closed his eyes once more, trying to return to the peace he had before. 

You watched him with a mixture of concern and affection, her fingers tracing soothing patterns through his jaw. With a gentle, exasperated sigh, Ryomen Sukuna stirred, his eyes fluttering open to meet You's gaze. There was a warmth in his eyes as much as there were storms. 

"Are you alright, Sukuna?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle melody that seemed to blend seamlessly with the symphony of nature around them.

Sukuna grunted in response, a faint scowl marring his features as he shifted uncomfortably. 

"I'm fine," he muttered, though the tension in his body spoke volumes. “Trust me.”

You couldn't shake the feeling that Sukuna was hiding something, despite his dismissive words. You watched him closely, your concern growing with each passing moment. There was a tension in his demeanor that you couldn't ignore, a subtle shift in his usual confident demeanor that set you on edge.

With a gentle poke to his cheek, you couldn’t help but teasingly attempt to draw him out, to coax him into opening up about whatever was troubling him. Sukuna had never minded how playful you were with him. In fact, your giddiness about it pleased him. But perhaps not in this case. Sukuna huffed in response, his frustration evident, but he remained tight-lipped.

"You don't seem fine," You persisted, your tone gentle yet insistent. You studied his face intently, searching for any clue as to what might be weighing on his mind. "What's with you, my love? You can tell me."

“There’s nothing. I’m fine. I'll reassure you.”

Sukuna's response was a terse repetition of his earlier assertion that everything was fine, but you could hear the strain in his voice, the underlying tension that belied his words. You sighed at his thick refusal.

"You know, the more you say that, the more suspicious you seem," you remarked, your brows furrowing in concern. "Whatever it is, we can face it together. You don't have to carry the burden alone. Spit it out, stubborn boy.”

Sukuna groaned slightly in response, a mixture of frustration and resignation coloring his tone. Despite his reluctance to confide in you, he knew that you would remain determined to stand by his side, to offer him the support and comfort he needed in times of uncertainty. You reached out, taking his hand in your own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll figure this out together, Sukuna," you said softly, your gaze unwavering. "I promise. But I won’t know what to do to help if you don’t tell me.”

Sukuna sighed heavily, sitting up beside you and running a hand through his fuschia hair in frustration. "Fine, since you won't drop it," he grumbled, his tone resigned. He looked at you for a moment and finally spoke, "I heard news about the clans nearing their arrival. They’ll be here soon.”

As you pondered Sukuna's demeanor, she couldn't shake the feeling that his unease ran deeper than the mere anticipation of the upcoming clan visit. You were keenly attuned to the intricate web of clan relations, sensing the subtle shifts and undercurrents that shaped your world.

In recent times, Sukuna's growing power had propelled the Ryomen clan into the spotlight, to heights never seen before in any previous lord’s lifetime. This fame had started earning them both admiration and animosity. But you were certain that such animosity was festering faster than such admiration. The status quo was after all finally being questioned.

The Ryomen clan was often referred to in less than flattering terms by their peers, with Sukuna himself bearing the brunt of much of the criticism. Sukuna could care less about such whispers. He could hardly care if people thought that he was worth talking about or not. 

But you were concerned, still. That was most normal when you love someone. You were no stranger to the disparaging whispers and sideways glances that followed in their wake. Being the only female heir of the clans does prepare one for such a thing. In the eyes of many, she was little more than a mere pawn, a figurehead to be manipulated and controlled. The men of other clans, in particular, harbored a deep-seated resentment towards her, their disdain fueled by antiquated notions of gender and power.

For you, such treatment had long been a bitter reality, one you had grown accustomed to over the years. But in your eyes, the questioning of Sukuna’s reputation was much more concerning. Even with the Ryomen name, he was still without the blood. As equally as he was concerned with your reputation, you were concerned about how they looked down on his common birth. 

The derogatory nicknames that circulated among their peers served as a constant reminder of the prejudice and bigotry that pervaded their world. Last year's incident, where Sukuna had lashed out at a servant for using a derogatory term to describe you and him. He would not say what he had heard from the servant till now, he had kept it to himself. But for him to resort to such violence, it was not one he took to favorably.

This event had only served to exacerbate tensions further. It was sheer luck that the man Sukuna had chastised was only a servant and not one with noble blood. It was easier also that the servant served under the Gojo. Suzaku had dealt with it on his own. Sukuna had not been pleased with that, but you were. 

In a way, you understood Sukuna’s concerns. He did not think that he would want to return to any further gatherings with the other clans. It was more of a headache than anything else. You could never harbor any feelings against what Sukuna felt. Despite your own resilience, you couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at the injustice of it all. A Ryomen was taught to suffer in silence. But you wished there was a time where you could express your own sufferings, to complain. 

You had worked tirelessly to prove herself worthy of your position, to earn the respect. Even if you had known nothing from your brother’s own work, you had worked tirelessly to learn. To do well. To serve well. And yet, you knew that in the eyes of many, you would always be seen as nothing more than "the damsel and your hound." 

Or if they would like to be blunt, ‘the whore and your hound’.

There were many more names that you perhaps did not know.

And truly, you perhaps would not want to know all of them.

"That's to be expected," you replied calmly, your voice laced with understanding. "But I have a feeling there's something else bothering you."

Sukuna glanced at his lover for a moment. His expression softened slightly at her perceptiveness. "You're…..right," he admitted reluctantly, his gaze drifting to the shimmering surface of the pond. "Our fathers are talking about arranging marriages for the two of us.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You knew you were bound to hear about it again one of these days. But you couldn’t help but be surprised. Sukuna too? Uncle Hiramu knew about her and Sukuna. He had not introduced Sukuna upon the list of eligible bachelors in these many years since Sukuna had grown of age. He said it was up to his adoptive son to do what he wanted. You have to wonder where Sukuna had heard of this. You felt a flicker of concern flashing across your features as you processed the news. 

"I see," she murmured, understanding the weight of such a decision. "That must be difficult for you to hear."

Sukuna nodded, his jaw tightening with tension as he wrestled with his emotions. "I have no interest in being tied down by some arranged marriage to some pathetic damsel." he snickered.

“Sukuna, that is unpleasant to say to other women.”

“I don’t care about other women.” He says brazenly, pursing his lips at her. “Are we not already together? Shouldn’t that be enough to spur out such ridiculous notions?”

You opened your lips, but closed them for a moment. “I–I don’t know. Father is the last word upon any sort of marriage. So is your father.”

Sukuna frowned. “He would not deny you the pleasure of a happy marriage, surely? Being married to that wench—”

“Sukuna—”

“That broad—”

“That broad is still my mother.” 

He snickers back. “That woman still earned my ire. Of all of our ire. For sucking the life out of every room she deems to enter.”

“That woman may make everyone miserable….but her misery upon others has kept the peace.” You sighed, looking at him and taking his hand. “It’s expected for me to make the same sacrifice.”

“You’re all too willing to settle for a foolish man who’s half hearted and dim-witted? One that could not even protect you? Unlike me?” Sukuna looked at her with a flash of disappointment. “Fuck duty. You don’t have to suffer a terrible husband.”

“Sukuna, you must understand, they will make us explain—”

Sukuna's response was initially sharp, his frustration bubbling to the surface in a surge of aggression. "Damn it. Why should we have to explain ourselves to them?" he snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. "We don't owe them anything. None of them have ever given us anything.”

But as he saw the flicker of hurt and surprise in your eyes, his anger ebbed away, replaced by a pang of remorse. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his tone softer now, his gaze averted. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just…all this talk of politics and marriage alliances. This is not what we should have. We already chose what we wanted. And I….I want to wed you. To give you the life you deserve. The love you deserve.”

You reached out, gently cupping his cheek with your hand. "I know," you reassured him, your voice gentle and forgiving. "I understand. I know you would never hurt me."

“I nearly could have.”

You shake your head. “But you didn’t. Clear your mind of the notion.”

“.....It’s not easy to do.”

With a small smile, you leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his in a tender kiss. "No matter what happens, I'll love no one in this world but you," you whispered against his lips, your words filled with unwavering devotion. “You are my love.”

Sukuna's cheeks flushed at your declaration, his heart swelling with warmth. "You're too easy with this," he whispers back. “It’s embarrassing. How much you affect me.”

“This is love,” you whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath as you looked up at him, your eyes reflecting the moonlight streaming through the window.

Sukuna's gaze met yours, his expression tender and filled with understanding. In that moment, he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. It was a kiss filled with warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that you were not alone in your struggles.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of affection and gratitude welling up within you. This connection, this shared moment of intimacy, was a testament to the bond you shared with Sukuna—a bond forged through countless trials and triumphs, and strengthened by unwavering support and unconditional love.

You giggled softly against his lips, savoring the sweetness of the moment, before kissing him once more. In his arms, surrounded by love and warmth, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united in your love for each other.

But as he leaned for another kiss, you pushed him away.

He frowns as you settle yourself straight on your position.

He looked towards where you were looking and frowned deeper.

Mikoto Masaomi's arrival was met with a courteous nod from you, your demeanor composed and gracious despite the interruption. Sukuna's reaction, however, was less welcoming. His eyes narrowed with a bitter edge as he regarded the man before him. He had never liked Mikoto Masaomi, sensing an unspoken rivalry between them that simmered just beneath the surface.

The bow offered by Mikoto was met with a cool gaze from Sukuna, his expression betraying his distrust. He couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that washed over him whenever Mikoto was near you. It wasn't just jealousy, though there was an element of that too. It was something deeper, a primal instinct that urged him to keep a watchful eye on the man who seemed to hover ever closer to your side.

Despite his misgivings, Sukuna maintained a facade of civility, his lips curved into a tight, obviously, forced smile as he acknowledged Mikoto's presence. But beneath the surface, his resentment simmered, a silent warning to anyone who dared encroach upon his territory. You, too, sensed the tension in the air. Your gaze flickers between the two men with a mixture of concern and wariness.

“Good day, Masaomi–dono.” You smile at him, moving slightly near Masaomi. Sukuna nearly caught your hand, but turned away. “How have you been?”

“Well, Hiromi–sama.” He replies simply, a small fond look was in his eyes. “I am pleased to know you are also well.”

“What have you come to me for, Masaomi–dono?”

"The Gojo clan has started arriving through the gates," he informed you, his eyes darting to Sukuna. It's as though he knew. Sukuna’s eyes grew even narrower. The jealousy in Sukuna’s chest. “Your father, my lord, has asked me to fetch the two of you to attend the formal greeting.”

“I see.” You nodded. “We will be there in a bit. You may go, Masaomi–dono.”

You thanked him with a nod, your smile fading as the weight of responsibility settled upon you once more. Sukuna, too, felt a sense of annoyance at the intrusion, his brief respite with you now shattered.

Mikoto Masaomi inclined his head in acknowledgment of your words before turning on his heel and departing, his departure leaving behind an uneasy tension in the air. Sukuna's gaze followed him until he disappeared from view, his jaw clenched with a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

As the silence stretched between them, you reached out, placing a comforting hand on Sukuna's arm. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the palpable frustration that colored his every movement. Despite your own reservations about Mikoto, you knew that now was not the time to dwell on such matters.

"We should go," You said softly, yourvoice a soothing balm against the storm of emotions brewing within Sukuna. "Our fathers are waiting for us, and it wouldn't do to keep them waiting."

Sukuna looks at you again. “Must we? I do not want to greet that lecher–”

“You must, and kindly.” You playfully commanded him, your eyes looking at him tenderly. “Play nice, for me.”

Sukuna purses his lips. He cannot win. Not against you, not ever against the tenderness of your eyes for him. He hated it, how much control you had upon him. But what could he do? He loved you too much to leave you too. He sighed and then nodded curtly, his features softening slightly at your touch. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, offering you a hand to help you up. You smiled at him and took his hand.

Together, they made their way towards the torii gates, the weight of their respective burdens hanging heavy in the air between them. But as you walked side by side, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.  

You looked at him and smiled. His hand wrapped against your own, as though he knew. As though he knew you needed his strength. You grinned at him and lifted his hand to your lips, kissing the side of his thumb. He seemed satisfied by that as they parted hands. 

No matter what challenges may they come across,

You knew that as long as they faced them together.

They would emerge to be stronger by the end of it all.

Because no matter what, they would always be together.

SUKUNA COULD ONLY WONDER HOW MUCH THEY POURED OUT FOR THIS. The Ryomen manor stood as a testament to opulence and grandeur, its halls adorned with the trappings of wealth and power. Every corner of the estate was meticulously decorated, from the ornate tapestries that hung from the walls to the shimmering chandeliers that cast a soft, golden glow over the proceedings. 

Sukuna couldn't help but scoff at the extravagance, the ostentatious display of wealth and power that seemed to permeate every inch of the estate. Expensive tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of battles won and enemies vanquished, while ornate chandeliers bathed the halls in a soft, golden glow.

For you, the lavish display was a source of frustration and disdain. You had always been vocal about your opposition to the extravagant spending that such events entailed. In your eyes, it was a needless waste of resources, a squandering of funds that could be better used elsewhere. As your Ryomen ancestors had taught, simplicity was the way of one’s life — for wealth cannot be brought upon man’s judgment in the afterlife.

Sukuna, too, shared his master's sentiments. As your loyal servant and guardian, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the excessive displays of wealth that surrounded them. He had always been more comfortable with simplicity and practicality, finding little joy in the ostentatious displays of the upper echelons of society.

Despite their misgivings, however, there was little they could do to change the course of events. The unity games were a time-honored tradition, a chance for the rival clans to come together and become allies. A chance for allies to prove their loyalty to another. But most of all, a chance to showcase their strength and skill. And so, reluctantly, you and Sukuna found yourselves swept up in the whirlwind of activity, their reservations pushed aside in favor of duty and obligation.

As Sukuna effortlessly bested opponent after opponent in the individual rounds of curse hunting, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of disdain for the proceedings. The other sorcerers seemed like mere amateurs compared to him, their techniques lacking in both power and finesse. With each victory, his boredom deepened, his frustration mounting at the thought of wasting his time on such trivial pursuits.

The thrill of battle, the exhilarating rush of combat that he so craved, was conspicuously absent in these tame encounters. Instead of facing worthy adversaries who could test his skills to their limits, Sukuna found himself locked in battle with opponents who posed little challenge, their feeble attempts at defense crumbling before his overwhelming might.

As he effortlessly dodged their attacks and countered with devastating precision, Sukuna couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was wasting his time. The individual rounds of curse hunting had become nothing more than a monotonous chore, a tiresome exercise in futility that did little to sate his hunger for true combat.

With each passing round, Sukuna's impatience grew, his frustration boiling over into simmering resentment. He longed for the thrill of a real challenge, for an opponent who could push him to his limits and force him to unleash the full extent of his power. But amidst the sea of mediocrity that surrounded him, such adversaries were nowhere to be found.

As the day wore on and the individual rounds drew to a close, Sukuna found himself growing increasingly restless. He yearned for the freedom of the open battlefield, for the chaos and carnage of a true fight to the death. But for now, he would have to content himself with the hollow victory of a cursed technique mastered and an opponent defeated.

In the moments of respite between rounds, Sukuna retreated to the secluded grounds of the Ryomen manor, seeking solace amidst the tranquil beauty of nature. He stalked away from the prying eyes of spectators and competitors alike and he immersed himself in the relentless pursuit of perfection, honing his cursed technique with a singular focus that bordered on obsession.

You, ever attuned to his needs, would often seek him out in these private moments, your presence a comforting balm amidst the chaos of the unity games. You dressed lovely for him. As Sukuna held you close, his heart swelled with adoration as he gazed upon you. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, you looked ethereal, like a celestial being descended from the heavens above.

Your delicate features were accentuated by the gentle light, casting a luminous glow upon your skin. The intricate folds of your decorations upon your garments draped gracefully around you, each layer adding to the mesmerizing allure of your presence. The fabric shimmered with subtle patterns and hues, reflecting the soft hues of the moon, as if woven from strands of stardust and dreams.

Your hair, adorned with delicate ornaments and flowers, cascaded in ebony waves down your back, framing your face like a halo of midnight silk. Each movement sent ripples of light dancing across the room, casting enchanting shadows upon the tent walls.

But it was your eyes that captivated him the most, pools of liquid darkness that held the depths of the universe within them. In their depths, he saw galaxies swirling, stars twinkling, and constellations unfolding—a reflection of the boundless beauty and wonder of the cosmos.

As Sukuna drank in the sight of you, he felt as though time itself had slowed, suspended in the timeless embrace of the night. In that moment, you were not just his beloved, but a vision of divine grace and celestial elegance, a muse that ignited the spark of creativity and wonder within his soul. 

And as he held you close, he knew that he would cherish this moment for eternity, a cherished memory to be treasured in the depths of his heart forevermore. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close to you. Sukuna found himself momentarily lost in the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her touch a welcome distraction from the rigors of combat. Your compliments filled his ears with the sweetest things.

Though the time together was brief, you wanted to visit him and cheer him on. In that short amount of time, you rejuvenated Sukuna's spirit, infusing him with a reward for his devotion. He cherished these stolen moments of intimacy, relishing the fleeting sense of closeness that the both of you shared.

But even as he reveled in your presence, Sukuna couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He knew that their forbidden romance could never be openly acknowledged, that the consequences of discovery could be dire for your reputation. He could hardly care for what everyone else says behind his back. But he does care about what others say to you.

You couldn’t help but pout as you reluctantly bid him farewell, your bright beaming cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he pressed a kiss upon your temple. Sukuna couldn't help but admire your beauty in the soft glow of the beautiful morning sun. How did he find such a gem in the world? You seemed to radiate an otherworldly allure that left him breathless with longing. 

"I wish you could stay longer," Sukuna murmured, his voice tinged with longing as he held your hand close to his. “You ought to warm me with you.”

You smiled sadly, your eyes betraying the same yearning that echoed in Sukuna's heart. "I do too," you admitted softly, fingers lingering on his arm. How warm you were, he will never get tired how you warm his cold world. "But we can't risk drawing attention to ourselves. It's better this way, for now.”

Sukuna nodded, though the weight of their clandestine relationship hung heavy between them. "I know," he conceded, his tone heavy with resignation. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

Your smile faltered slightly, your gaze clouded with tenderness. "Oh, my love, I know." you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But we have to be patient. Our time will come, I promise."

Sukuna's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and determination at your words. "I'll hold you to that," he vowed, his eyes locking with your eyes full of affection. “I’ll see you soon.”

You smiled. “I’ll see you.”

A wistful sigh leaves his lips, Sukuna watches you depart, a pang of regret tugging at his heart. Though their time together was fleeting, the memory of your kisses lingered on his lips, a potent reminder of the forbidden love that bound them together in secret.

But most of the time, he was alone with his thoughts. He cannot handle the bustling of servants, nor the nagging of his adoptive father. And so, he maintains a quiet time alone for himself when you have become increasingly occupied with duty. It was during one of these moments of solitude that he overheard a group of men talking nearby. Judging by the crest on their kimono — they were Fujiwara, a fact that only served to fuel Sukuna's disdain.

Sukuna listened intently as the voices of the Fujiwara men carried through the air, their conversation laced with arrogance and disdain. His lips curled into a sneer of contempt as he recognized the distinctive crest adorning their attire, a symbol of the very clan that had long been a thorn in the side of the Ryomen.

"They say the Ryomen girl is to take a husband this year," one of the men remarked, his tone filled with a sense of superiority. “I’m quite impressed how high the name remains high on the match maker’s list!”

Sukuna's blood boiled at the mention of your name, your honor in such a context, his fists clenched at his sides in barely contained fury. He bristled at the audacity of these men, their callous words serving as a stark reminder of the prejudices and injustices that permeated the world of sorcery.

"But who would want to marry the bitch?" another voice chimed in, eliciting a round of mocking laughter from the group. "The bitch’s nothing but a cruel murderer of men."

Another man, perhaps emboldened by the laughter, added, "I heard the whore once killed a man just for looking at her the wrong way. Who would want to be tied to such a beast?"

One of the stupid fools bolted into boisterous hooting. “Killed a man? The whore is ever so lucky to have some suitors. No one should be tied to such a brutish whore.”

The other one of these stupid brutes, emboldened by the laughter of his companions, continued, "You may think the bitch is powerful, but if I marry and bed the bitch, I'll make sure that bitch keeps silent. Nothing more than being nothing more than a tool, bent to my will."

The cruel words pushed Sukuna to the brink, his body trembling with the effort of restraining himself. The image of your serene face, your unwavering trust in him, kept him from unleashing the full extent of his wrath. With a sharp exhale, Sukuna forced himself to relax, the tension draining from his body as he made a conscious effort to quell the storm of emotions raging within him. He may have harbored a burning desire for revenge, but he would not let it consume him, not when your safety and happiness hung in the balance.

"The bitch needs a strong hand to guide and rule, someone like me.” another man sneered. "Put the collar upon that bitch.”

"Imagine the power one could wield with that bitch within one of our control," the first man mused, his voice dripping with ambition. "A conquest of the jujutsu world would be imminent. But we must ensure that bitch breaks first.”

The more they talked, the more Sukuna felt like he was going to lose it. It struck Sukuna over and over like a physical blow, his anger flaring into white-hot rage at the disparagement of the person he held deepest in his being. His mind raced with violent thoughts, visions of vengeance dancing tantalizingly at the edges of his consciousness.

But then, your voice echoed in his mind, a soothing balm to his simmering fury. 

"Don't," you whispered, your gentle tone a stark contrast to the storm raging within him. "It's not worth it. They are not worth it.”

Sukuna gritted his teeth against the overwhelming urge to lash out, his muscles coiling with tension as he fought to rein in his emotions. It was always you guiding him, even when you weren't around. Even if he hated it, Sukuna knew you were right, knew that succumbing to his rage would only bring them more trouble. More so, if he defeats them now — the clan would suffer more issues with the Fujiwara. Sukuna could care less about these spineless fools. But it would be different for you

With a sharp exhale over and over, even if it doesn’t work — Ryomen Sukuna forced himself to relax, the tension draining from his body as he made a conscious effort to quell the storm of emotions raging within him. He may have harbored a burning desire for revenge, but he would not let it consume him, not when your safety and happiness hung in the balance.

As he tried to steady himself, The sorcerer retreated further into the shadows, his heart heavy with the weight of his unspoken vow. No matter the obstacles they faced, he swore to protect you, to shield you from the cruelty of the world, even if it meant sacrificing his own desires for the sake of your well-being.

Sooner or later, they will end up paying for their words.

He will not let them get away with tarnishing you.

One way or another, it will be the cleave or a cutting slash.

RYOMEN SUKUNA PURSED HIS LIPS IN A FLAT LINE, LOOKING AT HIS THE COURTYARD. Sukuna considered himself fortunate to have the luxury of choosing his opponents. In a world where battles often come unbidden and enemies strike without warning, he relished the rare freedom to select his adversaries. This autonomy allowed him to seek out the most formidable challengers, ensuring that each fight would test his limits and provide a thrill worthy of his power.

To Sukuna, combat was more than mere survival or dominance—it was an art form, a dance of death that required a worthy partner. He took pride in his ability to discern who was truly deserving of facing him, who could push him to his fullest potential. The chance to pick his battles meant he could avoid the mundane and mediocre, focusing only on those who offered a true challenge.

In the quiet moments before a fight, Sukuna often reflected on this privilege. He knew that many warriors never had such a choice, forced to fight whoever fate threw in their path. But he, Sukuna, stood above them, wielding the power not just to conquer, but to choose his conquests. This freedom was a testament to his strength and a source of immense satisfaction, reminding him that he was not merely a participant in the eternal struggle for power—he was its master.

He stepped toward the courtyard of the Ryomen manor and looked upon the crowd. It was a spectacle of unparalleled grandeur, a testament to the clan's status and influence. Every corner of the expansive space was adorned with elaborate decorations that spoke of meticulous care and significant investment. The Ryomen double heron flies above, bright against all the other clan’s banners. His win was a result of that, for which he had too much pride about.

Silk banners, bearing the insignias of the various clans, fluttered lower, ever so gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors catching the light of the midday sun. Intricate tapestries depicting historic battles and legendary sorcerers draped the walls, adding a sense of reverence and tradition to the atmosphere.

Flower arrangements, meticulously crafted with seasonal blooms, punctuated the courtyard, their colors and fragrances mingling to create an intoxicating ambiance. Each floral display was a work of art, with blossoms arranged in harmonious patterns that drew the eye and invited admiration. Pathways of polished stone meandered through the courtyard, leading to various observation points and seating areas where the dignitaries and clan members could comfortably view the matches.

Large, ornate lanterns hung from intricately carved wooden posts, their delicate designs casting intricate shadows on the ground below. These lanterns would be lit as the sun set, casting a warm, inviting glow over the proceedings and adding to the magical atmosphere of the event. The air buzzed with anticipation, a palpable energy that surged through the crowd as they awaited the commencement of the individual matches.

The assembled sorcerers, dressed in their finest ceremonial attire, engaged in hushed conversations, their voices creating a low hum that underscored the gravity of the occasion. The younger juniors of the clan could feel their eyes wide with excitement and curiosity, whispering among themselves, speculating on the outcomes of the matches and the prowess of the competitors.

You sat poised alongside your uncle and your father, perched in a place of honor that overlooked the arena. Though your demeanor projected an air of tranquility and control, your true sentiments were veiled beneath a carefully crafted facade. Despite your efforts to maintain a stoic composure, the affection you tenderly harbored for Sukuna simmered just beneath the surface, evident to those who were attuned to your subtle cues.

From your elevated vantage point, you could survey the unfolding spectacle with a serene gaze one after another. Your eyes, alight with a quiet intensity, traced the movements of the combatants below. While her features remained composed, betraying little of her inner turmoil, the warmth emanating from her gaze spoke volumes.

As Sukuna crossed the threshold into the ring, a palpable aura of determination enveloped him. His steely gaze swept across the gathered spectators, momentarily lingering on the familiar countenance of you. In that fleeting exchange, an unspoken bond passed between them, a silent pact that fortified Sukuna's resolve and served as a constant reminder of the personal stakes he carried into the impending clash.

Opposite him, Fujiwara Koku stood with an air of arrogance that bordered on insolence, his smirk a blatant display of confidence. He remembered this ugly face quite clearly. His words of degradation towards you repeating in Sukuna’s head over and over. 

Sukuna's jaw clenched imperceptibly at the sight, his disdain for his adversary simmering beneath his cool exterior. While Koku exuded an air of self-assurance, Sukuna's demeanor remained inscrutable, a mask of detachment concealing the seething intensity of his emotions. He hated Fujiwara. The gall, the arrogance — with nothing to show for it but a power that was collapsing on its own hubris.

As the signal to commence the match echoed through the arena, tension crackled in the air like electricity. Each step taken by Sukuna reverberated with purpose, a silent declaration of his unwavering determination. Across the ring, Koku mirrored his opponent's movements with a predatory grace, anticipation gleaming in his eyes. In that charged moment, the clash of wills between Sukuna and Koku became inevitable, a collision of personal vendettas and unyielding resolve set to unfold in the unforgiving arena of combat.

As the gyōji announced the start of the match, Koku sneered, "Do you really think you can stand against me, foolish little hound?"

Sukuna remained silent, his eyes narrowing as he focused on his opponent.

Koku's expression twisted into one of mock pity. "I suppose your master, your bitch. Look at your master, little dog. You will be watching. Perhaps I should go easy on that bitch’s little pet."

As the confrontation escalated, the air crackled with tension, each heartbeat echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness of the night. Without preamble or hesitation, Fujiwara Koku unleashed the full fury of his power, a torrent of fire and brimstone hurtling towards Sukuna with deadly precision.

The first fireball erupted from Koku's outstretched palm, a searing orb of crimson flame that streaked through the darkness like a comet on a collision course. Sukuna's senses sharpened as he watched the fiery projectile hurtle towards him, his instincts honed from all these years kicking in with ease.

With a dancer's grace and a warrior's precision, Sukuna sprang into action, his movements fluid and seamless as he evaded the onslaught of fireballs with effortless agility. Each step was a calculated maneuver, each twist and turn a testament to his mastery of combat. The home crowd cheered with vigor at the spectacle of their kin.

The air around him shimmered with heat as the fireballs whizzed past, their searing heat leaving trails of scorched air in their wake. But Sukuna remained undeterred, his focus unwavering as he danced through the inferno unscathed. The flames were hot, but that’s all they were. They were nothing to him.

With each passing moment, Sukuna's movements became more fluid, more effortless, as if he were a force of nature unleashed upon the world. His footwork was impeccable, his timing impeccable, as he anticipated each strike with uncanny accuracy.

As the barrage continued, Sukuna seemed to meld with the rhythm of the chaos around him. Each leap, each twist, was executed with a precision that bordered on preternatural. His body moved with a fluidity that belied the danger that surrounded him, as if he were an extension of the very elements he danced amidst.

With each passing moment, Sukuna's senses heightened, his awareness expanding to encompass the entire battlefield. Every flicker of movement, every shift in the air, became a part of his consciousness, feeding into his instinctual understanding of the fight unfolding before him.

The fireballs came faster now, streaking through the night like shooting stars intent on obliterating their target. But Sukuna was no mere mortal; he was a master of combat, a living testament to the power of discipline and training.

With a graceful twist of his body, Sukuna evaded a particularly close call, the heat of the passing fireball licking at his heels as he danced out of harm's way. His movements were a symphony of motion, each step a carefully orchestrated note in the melody of battle.

And then, in a burst of speed and agility, Sukuna closed the distance between himself and his adversary, his blade flashing in the moonlight as he struck with lethal precision. The clash of steel rang out like thunder in the night, a testament to the ferocity of their duel.

"Impressive, little pet. But is that all you've got?" Koku taunted, summoning a larger flame. "Let's see how you handle this!"

Sukuna's lips curled into a contemptuous smirk, a silent retort to Koku's taunts. His focus remained unbroken, his movements fluid and precise as he deftly evaded each incoming fireball with calculated ease. Though Koku's attacks were fierce, Sukuna's resolve did not falter. He remains unshaken, his determination burning like a steady flame amidst the chaos of battle.

With a graceful flourish, Sukuna countered Koku's escalating assault, summoning his own inferno to meet the challenge head-on. The clash of fire and fury illuminated the arena in a dazzling display of power, each combatant vying for supremacy with unyielding resolve.

As the flames danced and flickered in the air, Sukuna's eyes blazed with an intensity that belied his calm exterior. With each passing moment, his confidence grew, fueled by the silent encouragement he sensed from You's unwavering gaze.

Koku's smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty as he realized the depth of Sukuna's determination. Yet, true to his nature, he pressed on undeterred, channeling his rage into a relentless onslaught of attacks.

“I’ll fight you with your element.” Sukuna retorts to the man, a smirk on his face. “It’s getting dull, fighting with you. Is that all you have? Come on. We should mix it up.”

Koku’s face contorts in anger, an insult cutting through at his ego. The heir of the Fujiwara screamed as he harnessed massive flames. The heat could be felt everywhere, people screeched upon the feeling. Koku hurled the massive fireball at Sukuna, but Sukuna was ready.  He smirks. 

He muttered "Open," the echoes of his palms bouncing off flame against flame. Koku’s eyes widened at the sight. It was bright, orange flames with hints of reddish scarlet. Sukuna’s hands tamed the flames as he brushed them together. 

The whispers of Sukuna’s fame were heavily focused upon his cutting and slashes techniques. Ones which were versatile in its own right. But a Ryomen does not content himself with what he is now. He adapts, he develops. He becomes divine. 

The crowd goes in awe as his own Divine Flame countered Koku’s own bright flames. The flames  clashed in a spectacular explosion, radiating against the veil one after the other. Koku looked pathetic as he tried to push against the fuschia haired man. But Sukuna snickered as he pushed, his superior control and intensity quickly overpowered Koku's attack, dissipating it into nothing. Koku falls back, his head lowered and his feet clutched onto the ground. He looks at Sukuna, who’s flames had disappeared at his command.

Seizing the moment, Sukuna closed the distance between them with lightning speed. Koku swung a flaming fist, aiming for Sukuna's head, but Sukuna ducked under the blow, his movements fluid and precise. He touched the ground, activating Spiderweb. The earth beneath Koku's feet cracked and shattered in an intense blow, the technique adjusting to the terrain's toughness and collapsing the ground in one decisive move.

Koku stumbled harshly once more, his balance disrupted by the sudden upheaval. Sukuna moved in with Cleave, the slashing attack adjusting itself to Koku's cursed technique. Sukuna was no longer giving him time to recover. One could see the elders of the Fujiwara rushing towards lord Isamu. The rest were standing, calling foul at what Sukuna was trying to do. But Sukuna did not see all that. What he saw was his prey and he was going to hunt. Strike after another towards his opponent was devastating, cutting through Koku's defenses and leaving a deep, gaping wound across his torso, his hands, his arms, even at his face. 

"You... you'll pay for this," Koku gasped, blood seeping everywhere as he stumbled, feeling more blood spill through his fingers as he clutched his upper chest. He hissed from the pain. “YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!”

"You're not even worth my time," Sukuna replied coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. He watches him cough more blood. But he did not care. Not even when you were standing off your seat, calling out to him, telling him to stop. “Get lost.”

Desperate to live, Fujiwara Koku summoned a massive fireball, his last-ditch effort to turn the tide of the battle. The crowd was yelling and cheering for Sukuna, to end the game. Many professed that he would end the round and win glory for the Ryomen. The cheering grew louder, but Sukuna could not hear them. He did not want to hear them. Sukuna was lost in over his head, for revenge now. He could care less about the glory. 

This fool ran his mouth, had stepped on his clan and stepped on the person he loves. He will not let him get away with simple wounds. Sukuna was relentless. He quickly extended his hand, his Dismantle technique slicing through the fireball with ease. Koku's final attack disintegrated before it could even begin, before it could even try to reach Sukuna.

In a final, desperate move, Koku stood and screamed, pathetically charging at Sukuna, flames engulfing both his fists. Sukuna snickered and met him head-on, activating his  Cleave once more. The attack was swift and lethal, cutting through Koku's fire and striking him down with a single, decisive blow. The pressure was so much from that hit, everyone could feel it. The sound, the wind, the air — all had changed course as Fujiwara Koku choked on his own blood and flew battered and broken upon the other side of the ring. 

Koku's defeat was as swift as it was decisive, the once-arrogant heir to the Fujiwara clan now reduced to a fallen adversary, sprawled upon the unforgiving ground of the arena. The courtyard, once alive with the tumultuous energy of battle, now fell into an eerie silence, the onlookers rendered speechless by the spectacle unfolding before them. Soon enough, the cheers returned. But only the Gojo and the Ryomen cheered. Kamo, Zenin and Fujiwara all looked with horror as the heir of a prestigious clan, lay unresponsive. 

Sukuna stood amidst the aftermath of his triumph, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of battle. He did not care to look back if Koku was dead or alive. It was a fair match, one he had won with his sorcery. He would not speak like that about you ever again. Despite the victory he had achieved, there was no hint of triumph in his demeanor, only a solemn acknowledgment of the price paid in pursuit of victory. He was not happy. He wanted more. He wanted more than this. All of them have to pay.

Amidst the hushed whispers and murmurs of the quiet crowd, you remained a steadfast presence, your wavering gaze fixed upon Sukuna. He watched as you shook your head at him, your eyes narrowed towards him. The warmth that had suffused your eyes earlier now mingled with a newfound complexity, reflecting the conflicting emotions swirling within your own heart. Sukuna felt unsettled by that. He thought you would feel a little more pride for what he had achieved.

It’s as if you knew something that Sukuna did not know.

Sukuna felt his glory drowned by the shadows in your eyes.

Fights broke out between the Ryomen and the Fujiwara that day.

You left the conference dinner that night in sheer, wordlessness.

The next few days, Hiramu Isamu looked at Sukuna bitterly.

Ryomen Hiromi was to wed Fujiwara Koku, to keep the peace.

IT HAD BEEN A ROUGH WEEK. The rest of the events had gone without your presence throughout, the withdrawal of the Fujiwara’s heir from all matches and Sukuna’s disqualification. It was quite somber after all of that. Much too much had been said behind the golden screens of the ancestral halls. Tears and brutish whispers and commands. But none had said anything. You ought not to. It was not an affair that belonged to you.

By the end of that week, the tension between You, the heir to the Ryomen clan, and Sukuna, your loyal follower, had become unbearable. It was quite a palpable undercurrent coursing through the entire clan. Lord Isamu and his brother Hiramu too were just as much in a battle of wills, but that was quite underwhelming to say the least. Lord Hiramu knew when to step away and let his brother settle in his inflamed words. He was after all like the water that flows in the river — strident in his own ways.

As the days passed without you emerging from your chambers, the atmosphere within the Ryomen compound grew increasingly strained. The unity games, meant to foster camaraderie and goodwill among the clans, had become marred by the rift between the Fujiwara and the Ryomen. But that was always one that had existed. One that all had been used to. What the rest of the Ryomen had not been used to was the distance between the heiress and her devoted guardian.

For Sukuna, the days of your seclusion felt like an eternity, each passing moment gnawing away at his patience and sanity. Despite his best efforts to understand the reasons behind your withdrawal, whispers from the shadows painted a different picture. The Fujiwara clan, incensed by Koku's defeat at Sukuna's hands, were exerting pressure on the Ryomen, leveraging their influence to force compliance with their demands.

Uncle Hiromu, ever the voice of reason, stood outside your chambers, attempting to bridge the gap between his adoptive son and his niece. But Sukuna's resolve remained unyielding, his need to see you eclipsing any semblance of diplomacy or compromise. He stared down the guards, all of whom whimpered at his dark gaze.

“It’s alright.” Your voice lingered for a moment. “Let him in.”

As he stood before you, Sukuna's emotions roiled beneath the surface, a tempest of anger and disbelief threatening to consume him whole. The weight of the Fujiwara's intimidation tactics bore down upon him like a suffocating blanket, fueling his determination to resist their tyranny at all costs.

Though your explanation of the marriage match was meant to placate the warring factions and maintain peace between the clans, Sukuna knew in his heart that it was a thinly veiled facade. The Fujiwara's ulterior motives lay bare before him, their insidious machinations driving a wedge between you and your true desires.

In the hushed confines of your chambers, Sukuna's gaze bore into you with an intensity that bordered on accusation. His features contorted with a potent mixture of frustration and despair, his silent plea for you to see reason echoing in the hollow recesses of your shared solitude.

But as the walls closed in around them, Sukuna knew that your fate hung precariously in the balance, and that the choices you made in the days to come would shape the course of your destinies in ways neither of you could yet comprehend.

"You accepted the marriage?" Sukuna's voice was barely above a whisper, laced with a seething undercurrent of fury. "After everything that happened, you just... agreed to it?"

You met Sukuna's gaze with a haunted expression, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within your soul. "It was the only way," you murmured, your voice barely audible above the tumult of your thoughts. "The Fujiwara felt humiliated, Sukuna. They demanded retribution for what you did to Koku."

Sukuna's fists clenched at his sides, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. "You're telling me you agreed to marry that bastard because of their pride?" His words were a venomous accusation, a stark reminder of the betrayal he felt coursing through his veins.

But your response was tinged with a sorrow that cut deeper than any blade. "It's not just about their pride, Sukuna," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I... I feel responsible for what happened. For the animosity between our families. As father does. If I can bear this burden, perhaps... Perhaps I can make amends."

Sukuna recoiled at your words, his disbelief warring with the anguish that threatened to consume him whole. "You blame yourself for his actions? Their actions? For the words he spoke, the pain he inflicted?" His voice cracked with emotion, his heartache laid bare for all to see. “You, you’re smart. You ought not to be stupid about this.”

Your gaze faltered, your resolve crumbling like fragile glass beneath the weight of Sukuna's accusation. "He... he talked about me?" Your voice was barely a whisper, your heart breaking anew at the realization of Koku's cruelty. You shook your head, defeated. “It does not matter…..he…he would be my lord husband.”

Sukuna's anger flared anew, his fists trembling with suppressed rage. "He belittled you, You. He wanted to hurt you, to break you. And you... you would willingly subject yourself to that misery?" His voice was laced with desperation, a plea for you to see reason amidst the chaos of your unraveling world.

But you shook your head, your tears flowing freely now, a torrent of anguish and regret. "It doesn't matter, Sukuna," you sobbed, your voice raw with emotion. "I must carry this burden, this guilt, this shame. For what he did, for what I failed to prevent."

A haunting flashback washed over you, the memory of your brother's death looming large in your mind's eye. You remembered the terror in his eyes, the desperation of his final moments as he faced off against those who sought to claim you. The weight of that guilt pressed down upon you, crushing you beneath its unbearable burden. But the aftermath, it was all coming back to you now. It was all coming back to you. A sinner can never forget. You must only atone.

The water around you began to swirl with a newfound energy, currents twisting and turning in a vortex that seemed to center on your very being. Suddenly, a surge of power flooded through you, intense and overwhelming. It felt as if the very essence of the river—the unyielding force of its currents, the depth of its secrets—was merging with your own spirit.

Your eyes, previously a soft tender shade, ignited with a vibrant purple hue, shining through the murky waters like twin beacons. This transformation marked the awakening of your cursed technique, a manifestation of your desire for vengeance infused with the river's ancient power. A god bestowed you favor and one that could never be escaped. Ryomen You felt the energy coursing through her veins, her head filling with burning sensations. Of the truth of the world, the anger of the world, the horror of the gods — Ryomen You was no longer just a child. You was a god’s warrior. A servant chained to the strings of a god’s whim.

As the power settled within you, the waters around you seemed to calm, and you found yourself gently deposited on the riverbank, gasping for air but alive. You lay there for a moment, drenched and exhausted, yet invigorated by a newfound strength. Your heart pounded with the pulsing reality of the power that now resided within you.

You stood, your clothes clinging to your skin, your every movement imbued with a sense of purpose. You looked at your hands, your gaze then shifting to the river that had nearly claimed your life but had instead given you a new path. The purple of your eyes was not just a mark of the power you had gained; it was a symbol of your vow, a vivid reminder of the path you had chosen.

And you knew what would happen.

There was no kindness nor doubt in your mind.

Ryomen You walked towards the burning camp.

One look towards the dead and the killers was enough.

You could feel the blood pouring down from your wrists.

“You will pay.” You whispered, turning to who noticed her.

“Who are you?” 

“Your death.” Your purple eyes narrowed as you looked at her wrist, and raised it onto the air. You watched as it poured to the ground. You smiled at the murderer. “Heaven’s Bloom.”

You stood with an air of eerie calmness as the intricate spirit array spun around you, a mesmerizing dance of white and red light casting long, twisting shadows across the ground. The ambient glow pulsed with the rhythm of your heartbeat, each surge of light drawing forth the energy from the droplets of your own blood that had fallen in the formation of the array. Your purple eyes, alight with a fierce, unyielding resolve, followed the movements of the murderer who stumbled backward, his eyes wide with dawning terror.

The array's light coalesced into forms. It was the most grotesque thing you had ever seen. You watched as these snarling creatures wrought from the energy you commanded. Little by little, they grew angrier, they grew bitter. They grew ugly. Yet, they were manifestations of your will, each one a grotesque caricature of vengeance, one you felt in your heart. You could feel their forms shimmering with the same eerie luminescence of the array. They were your children, your blood. Your little monsters. 

Yet they were born out of the heavens, the gods and their wills. They were holy beasts. The ugliest, most horrific of them all. None could deny how terrifying they are. How brutally cruel they are. Not even your newfound victim. Not even you yourself. The air was filled with the sound of their screeches, blood pouring out of their mouths like a languid fountain. It was a brutal cacophony that seemed almost triumphant as they sensed the fear emanating from their prey.

Your smile deepened, your expression one of dark satisfaction as you watched the murderer's feeble attempts to retreat. You think that if she laughed, that man would piss himself. There were more of him around, that she was certain. But he would be the first. You think that he was already too afraid that he would shat himself. His back hit against the cold, unyielding surface of the carriage — there was no further space to flee, no escape from the retribution he had brought upon himself.

With a voice as cold as the freezing night, You uttered a single command that sealed the fates of the murderer and his comrades. "Eat."

At your word, the creatures lunged forward with the most brutal force anyone had ever seen. Their movements were a blur, a violent cascade of light and shadow that pounced on the murderer and his group.  One after another, the spraying of blood was all too much. Your kimono danced against blood and water. Blood was indeed thicker than water. But as they sprayed against you one after another, You did not mind it. You just watched, you just stood still and listened. 

Screams pierced the night air, a terrible symphony of agony that played out under the uncaring gaze of the moon above. The creatures tore at the men with spectral claws and teeth, each attack brutal, relentless — not just physical assaults, but invasions of the very soul, rending spirit as well as flesh.

The chaos was brief, yet it stretched out like a lifetime of pain for those on the receiving end. You lived in that moment like it was forever. When the dead were claimed by the earth with the soiled thickness of blood, the creatures finally receded. You watched as they were drawn back into the fading light of the spirit array. You could not recognize the fools. There was nothing that remained of the murderers. But the young lady lived in the infinity of their echo of their echoing screams and the disjointed shadows of discarded flesh and bone that danced fitfully on the blood-stained ground.

Your heart beat steadily, a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded. You turned away from the carnage, your steps measured and purposeful. There was no joy in your actions any longer. Not even if you felt satisfied. There is only vain sorrow. Grief. Nothing was left, only the grim satisfaction of justice served — not through the law, but by the ancient, arcane arts that you had mastered and wielded with lethal precision.

As the night reclaimed its silence, Ryomen You felt exhausted. You felt drained. There was nothing left. Nothing of your past left. That night, it all burnt to ashes. And you too, disappeared into the darkness. Ryomen You became a sinner that night, a murderer even. But you did not care. It would never bring your brother back. You did not care.

"Leave me, Sukuna," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the chaos of your shattered world. Your fingers grip tightly to your lilac silks. "Leave me be, at least for now. Please.”

And as Sukuna stood before you, his heart heavy with the weight of your shared pain, he knew that your journey was far from over, and that the road ahead would be fraught with obstacles neither of you could yet foresee. But amidst the ashes of your shattered dreams, a glimmer of hope remained—a beacon of light that illuminated the darkness, guiding you ever onward towards an uncertain future.

Tears poured out from Ryomen You’s eyes.

The pain in your head echoed over and over again.

‘Don’t waste tears over decisions you made like this..’

You bit your lower lip as you could feel the voice of god.

‘Stand by your choices, stop being a foolish little one.’

HE HAD NO WAY TO SOOTHE HIS HEART ACHE. In the secluded sanctuary of the koi ponds, Sukuna sought respite from the tempestuous storm of emotions that churned relentlessly within him. Surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the melodious trickle of water, he found himself drawn to the serene tranquility of his surroundings, each ripple upon the surface of the pond a reflection of the chaos raging within his own soul.

With each step you took along the worn stone pathway, Sukuna felt the weight of his grief pressing down upon him like an unbearable burden. The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken words and fractured bonds, the silence broken only by the soft echo of your footsteps against the cool, smooth surface beneath him.

As you wandered aimlessly amidst the verdant foliage and graceful arc of the wooden bridges, Sukuna sought solace in the timeless beauty of nature, a silent witness to the tumultuous symphony of your innermost thoughts and emotions. Each breath you took seemed to draw you deeper into the heart of your turmoil, the tranquil facade of the koi ponds offering little sanctuary from the tempest that raged within.

Yet, amidst the chaos of your own making, Sukuna found a strange sense of peace in the rhythmic dance of the koi beneath the surface, their graceful movements a silent reminder of the ebb and flow of life itself. With each passing moment, he felt himself drawn ever closer to the heart of his own grief, the gentle embrace of the water offering solace where words could not.

Lonesomeness among the tranquil serenity of the koi ponds, Sukuna stood on the precipice of his own despair, his heart laid bare beneath the watchful gaze of the silent sentinels that danced upon the surface of the water. And though the path ahead remained shrouded in uncertainty, he knew that in the depths of his solitude, he would find the strength to weather the storm that raged within, and emerge anew, forged in the fires of his own turmoil.

The tranquil ambiance of the koi ponds was disrupted by the fading echoes of departing footsteps, leaving behind an unsettling stillness that seemed to swallow Sukuna whole. As the last remnants of the departing clans vanished into the distance, the weight of Sukuna's isolation settled heavily upon his shoulders, a tangible reminder of the chasm that had formed between him and You.

Lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, Sukuna was startled by the arrival of his adoptive father, Hiramu, whose presence cut through the suffocating silence like a beacon of light amidst the darkness. Wordlessly, the elder Ryomen settled beside him, his silent companionship a balm to Sukuna's wounded soul.

For a long while, they sat in contemplative silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. It was Hiramu who broke the silence first, his voice gentle yet firm as he sought to bridge the gap between them.

"Sukuna," he began gently, "I understand your pain. But you must also understand that You has a duty to uphold. As our lord, Isamu's choice for peace outweighs all else."

Sukuna's fists clenched at his sides, his anger and bitterness threatening to consume him whole. But despite his inner turmoil, he refused to meet his father's gaze, the tumult of emotions roiling within him rendering him speechless.

"What should I do then?" Sukuna's voice was barely above a whisper, a desperate plea for guidance in a world devoid of certainty.

Hiramu's words reverberated in Sukuna's mind like a relentless echo, each syllable a painful reminder of the sacrifices demanded by duty and loyalty. As he wrestled with the weight of his father's expectations, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, threatening to unravel the fragile threads of his resolve.

"If you truly love You," Hiramu's voice echoed in Sukuna's ears, the gentle cadence of his words belying the weight of their implications. "Then you must serve her above all else."

The ache in Sukuna's chest deepened at his father's admonition, a bittersweet reminder of the love he harbored for You, a love tinged with equal parts longing and despair. For as much as he yearned to be by her side, to support her in her time of need, Sukuna couldn't shake the gnawing fear that his presence would only serve to deepen the chasm that had formed between them.

"You is alone in her burden," Hiramu continued, his voice a solemn decree that echoed in the silence of Sukuna's soul. "And it falls upon you to fill that void."

The weight of those words settled upon Sukuna like a suffocating shroud, the burden of responsibility pressing down upon him with unrelenting force. How could he, a mere mortal burdened with his own flaws and insecurities, hope to shoulder the weight of You's burdens? And yet, the thought of abandoning her to face her trials alone filled him with a sense of profound despair.

"One day," Hiramu's voice carried a note of quiet conviction, a promise of redemption amidst the chaos of Sukuna's fractured world. "You will be her right hand man, her staunchest ally."

But Sukuna couldn't help but wonder if that day would ever come—if he would ever be worthy of standing by You's side as her equal, her confidant, her friend. The thought of a future filled with uncertainty and doubt sent a shiver down his spine, a chill that seeped into the very marrow of his bones.

"But you must put her needs before your own," Hiramu's words cut through the fog of Sukuna's despair like a sharpened blade, a stark reminder of the sacrifices demanded by duty and obligation. "For the sake of our duty, our legacy."

With a heavy heart and a weary soul, Sukuna bowed his head in silent acquiescence, his resolve wavering beneath the weight of his father's expectations. For as much as he longed to defy fate and carve his own path forward, Sukuna knew that his duty to You, to their clan, to their legacy, was a burden he could never hope to escape. And so, with a heavy heart and a weary soul, Sukuna surrendered himself to the relentless tide of destiny, resigned to the anguished whispers of his own fractured heart.

Sukuna found himself engulfed in a sea of contemplation, each word uttered by his father echoing in the recesses of his mind like a resounding bell telling the truth. With each passing moment, a sense of clarity washed over him like a cleansing tide, stripping away the layers of doubt and uncertainty that had clouded his judgment.

As Sukuna grappled with the weight of his father's wisdom, a profound realization dawned upon him like a ray of sunlight piercing through the darkness. Hiramu was right—if he dared to admit it to himself.

Blood may indeed be thicker than water, but the bonds forged by duty and loyalty transcended the confines of mere familial ties. In the quiet solitude of his contemplation, Sukuna came to understand that belonging was not always about blood relations, but rather about the connections forged through shared experiences and unwavering loyalty.

With a heavy heart, Sukuna acknowledged that he had never truly known what it meant to belong before. Raised within the confines of the Ryomen clan, he had always felt like an outsider looking in, yearning for acceptance and validation amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces. But now, in the wake of his father's guidance, Sukuna realized that being a Ryomen was not just a matter of lineage—it was a testament to the strength of their bond, forged in the crucible of duty and obligation.

"You were all I have," Sukuna mused quietly to himself, the weight of his realization settling upon him like a comforting embrace. Despite the lingering sense of loneliness that had haunted him for so long, Sukuna knew that he was never truly alone. The Ryomen clan was his family, his home, his anchor amidst the tumultuous sea of uncertainty. 

“You’re all I will ever have.” He now says out loud.

Ryomen Sukuna looked away from his father and sighed.

He didn’t know what to do, nor did he know where to go.

But he can’t see you and he’s certain, you don’t want to see him.

It would break your hearts more than ever, to seek each other out.

There was warmth in the water, the water was fine as he sought it.

Ryomen Sukuna wonders if he too will be able to feel fine once more.

fun facts about this chapter

this is the longest chapter i wrote and the longest one i took breaks in between for. its about 48 pages in my docu file and it took a week or so because of my school life. i really like it, though.

fujiwara akiko, really didn't love her children. she hates being married to hiramu. she paid more attention to akimu because his status as heir and how that gives her more power and influence. she looks down on hiromi and blames hiromi for akimu's death.

hiromi was found alone in the woods near the fujiwara's summer manor a few days after what happened. gojo suzaku was the one who found hiromi. it was noted that hiromi was the lone survivor.

hiromi's curse technique is called 'siphon of heaven'. her curse technique by nature is sacrificial, she has to offer up something to use it. hiromi's blood is often used. a god has four aspects of control - life, death, nature and the cosmic heavens. 'heaven's bloom' is a nature in between of life and death.

hiromi does not curse technique often. it takes more cursed energy than what is stored up. though hiromi has honed the techniques throughout the years, it is incomplete. with this purpose, hiromi focuses on using other forms of jujutsu including cursed weapons and aids.

prior having 'siphon of heaven', hiromi did have a developing cursed technique but it never manifested as it was overrided by the pact hiromi and the god made. from hiromi and onwards, only three had been users of the technique. hiromi, another clan leader and genmei, who is hiromi's descendant.

sukuna has yet to completely perfect and refine much of his techniques and he is obssessive over the need to be able to do it. hiromi doesn't think its healthy for him to push himself, but sukuna thinks that the only way he'll improve is if he devotes his time to it.

hiramu and sukuna's relationship as father and son isn't the most typical, but its warm enough that they call each other father and son. hiramu has pride over giving sukuna his name.

fujiwara koku is the same age as hiromi's older brother. he is the heir of the fujiwara, but he's mostly disliked by the rest of the clan. however, they are obliged to follow him by their loyalty to the fujiwara. his fire cursed technique is 'fire matter'.

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. If you're enjoying the fanfic, please interact. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance. I would appreciate it if those who enjoy the fanfic could leave a comment and like (kudos). Engagement helps me know that there are still people reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter ❤

SIX EIGHT

SEVEN

Before Sam and Jacob could get into a physical fight, you dragged Jacob out of Sam's line of sight. Even though you're mad at Jacob, them fighting would be terrible.

"What exactly was your plan when you told Sam I was in your pack?" you ask while driving Jacob to his house, as he sits impatiently, frustrated that he couldn't fight Uley.

"Well, a thank you would be the right thing for you to say to me. I saved your ass from having to commit to declaring war on Uley's pack when up until now you had no support," Jacob says with a certain arrogance and confidence. After glancing at you, he laughs. You can only imagine that he finds it amusing to irritate you.

"Getting involved in my problems isn't your job, Black. You made it clear you didn’t want me here, so what's the reason for rescuing me? Did you get a guilty conscience after taking Bella's side?" you say while trying to keep your focus on the road. Jacob lets out a loud sigh, then looks at you. You ignore it while driving but can feel his gaze on you.

"I didn't take Bella's side. Or maybe I did. I acted on impulse and took out my frustration on you. But you can't tell me you don't think all this shit is messed up. Before you showed up, Bella told me that Edward wanted to marry her. Maybe even thought about turning her into a cold-skinned monster. Now, not only did he ask for a break from her, but he also brought you into their side. Tell me you wouldn't be pissed if you were in my place?" Jacob says, and you almost understand him. But you're too hurt to be completely sympathetic.

"He didn't take me to their side, Jacob. The truth is, I don't have a side. Because those who should be on my side, for being like me, prefer to make me feel like a mistake. And the Cullens aren't much different. My intention was never to be a problem, but now I want to make my own decisions without thinking about the consequences. I've been pushing Edward away for a long time. Trying not to make anyone unhappy. I've chosen my family over him more than once. Now, the one I always considered family is treating me like a burden. Whether you like it or not, you're also responsible for that. But I'm truly sorry for Bella." You say as you approach the Black house, and when you finally arrive, the tension in your car could not be higher.

"Your life would be simpler if you were with me, you know that, right?" Jacob says, removing his seatbelt and turning in the passenger seat to look at you. You take off your seatbelt as well and turn to look at him. Jacob's hands move to your face as he gently caresses your cheeks.

"It would be. But we could never have a true happy ending if I spent my life thinking about what it would have been like to give Edward a chance. It wouldn't be fair to you. So don't think that I'm choosing Edward; just as he's not choosing me. We're both just trying to level the situation," you say while looking gently into Jacob's eyes. You wish he understood that you don't want to hurt him or Bella.

"This situation seems too painful. And I know Bella will be waiting for Edward at the end of the day, because they love each other. But maybe I'm not waiting for you. In any case, I was serious when I said I want you in my pack. Even if we don't have a romantic relationship, I'm your friend. And you're probably my best friend. That won't change, if it's up to me." Your eyes meet Jacob's as you feel that this conversation has taken a different but appropriate turn.

"I accept. But know that if you ever offend or humiliate me, I'll take you down myself." You try to sound threatening, but Jacob doesn't seem to believe you. He kisses your forehead and then leaves as if there's nothing more to say. As you watch him walk away, you feel that this moment you've shared has brought a new closeness to your relationship.

You drive again to the Cullens' house, this time to inform Edward about meeting with Sam. As you go, you think about where you could spend some time. Then you remember that your old house still exists. Maybe you can stay there if you can handle being haunted by the memories. When you park in front of the Cullens' house, Edward is already waiting for you. He approaches your car and sits in the passenger seat, looking at you. If a look could speak, Edward's would say, "I missed you." You can respond to that because, honestly, you missed him too. You unbuckle your seatbelt and then pull Edward's face toward you. Instantly, your lips meet his. It's a desperate yet calm act as you feel the kiss deepen, Edward's dominance increasing as he gently presses your head against the car door. Your hands slide around his neck, lightly tugging at his hair.

"I'll go with you," Edward whispers against your lips as you break the kiss. You look at him somewhat angrily; he obviously read your mind. But then he gives you a peck on the lips, as if trying to calm you.

"You're going to abandon your home to go to the house of the man who would kill us both if he knew we were together?" you ask, as you move away from Edward a bit. He smiles briefly as he holds your hands gently.

"First, I won't be abandoning my home, just extending it. And your father hated me, but he loved you. If I can keep you company, I think he might tolerate me," Edward says, and you give a weak laugh. Then you remember you need to talk about the conversation with Jacob.

"The conversation with Sam was almost as bad as it could be. And because of that, I ended up agreeing to become a member of Jacob's pack. And you can't react negatively to this news because the other option was going to war with Uley without any support. At least now I have his pack." You say, and Edward seems bothered. He turns to look straight ahead, while you watch him.

"You would never be alone. I will always be with you, you know that. But I understand why you did it, just like I understand that you're upset about earlier today. I think it's still too soon for my family to understand what's going on between us." Edward says, turning back to look at you. You give him a kiss on the cheek for understanding so well. Then you catch a hint of feminine perfume on him.

"Why were you waiting for me out here, Edward?" you ask, staring at him, who seems to be hiding something from you.

"It’s not what you think. Bella is inside. We were trying to put an end to our story peacefully, but my family thought it was a reconciliation and invited her for dinner," Edward says, defending himself, that idiot. You look at him seriously.

"Go back to your dinner, Cullen. I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me this. I must be a real fool to you." You say, then get out of the car to open the door for Edward. You’re definitely not going to take him with you.

"Y/N, let me explain…" he says, and then you look at him with anger. As if you knew that a little more and you would drag him out of the car, he gets out of the car, facing you.

"Save your explanations for Bella, who’s inside waiting for you. Goodbye, Edward." You say angrily, slamming the car door and then getting into your car to drive away. You don't expect him to say anything, simply driving away at a high speed. All you can think is how pathetic you are. Flashbacks of the recent events play in your mind like a movie. You're so angry that you don't even notice when a person appears in the middle of the road. Your car flips over as you try to swerve to avoid hitting the person in front of you, a pale-skinned red-haired woman. You feel a sharp pain in your stomach, your vision blurring and the sound of a female voice saying, "Tell Edward I said hello." Then everything goes dark as you feel your life slipping away.

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Heracles with fem!giyuu!reader scenario

Collab work with @deathmetalunicorn1. This can be seen as either a platonic or a slow burn romance scenario.

warnings: violence, canon divergence, and possibly Brunhilde's potty mouth.

Giyuu!reader is selected to fight in round four against Heracles, the mightiest demigod of Olympus. Brunhilde had emphasized that his strength is nothing to scoff at and to make sure to secure a win so that Humanity will be given an advantage against the shitty gods. While she was not someone who judged a person by someone’s words alone, Giyuu!reader had promised Nezuko and Tanjiro that she would come back to them. And that is what she will do, regardless of who her opponent is in the arena. 

To her shock, Heracles had actually tried to persuade her to forfeit the match because he did not want to fight a woman. To him, it was dishonorable. She just looked at him for a moment, then unsheathed her sword and charged at him, though he had parried the blow with his club. 

Giyuu!reader clicked her tongue, leaping backwards and landing on her feet. She straightened her posture, [Eye Color] orbs staring at him icily. 

“This is a fight to save mankind…my gender is irrelevant. Or will you dare to change the match to suit your own benefit, as Zeus had done in the second match?” She asked, maneuvering her fingers around the leather handle of her sword before bending her knees. She inhaled her nose, exhaling through her mouth. 

“Water Breathing. Fifth Form. Blessed Rain After the Drought.”

Giyuu!reader darted across the arena, swinging her blade from the left, aiming at the demigod’s neck. She had hoped to finish her opponent in an act of kindness, but alas the tip of her blade barely made a dent as he had used his club again to parry. He pushed back against her, allowing Giyuu!reader to use his arm as leverage and leapt away again, putting distance between them. 

She frowned at him. “Stop this.” She said, “Fight back.” 

“I cannot and will not unless you lay down your arms.” He replied, lowering his club towards the ground, cerulean orbs bright with conviction and sincerity. He might…mean what he said, and these aren’t just pretty words to lower his opponent’s guard…it still pissed off Giyuu!reader that he was under the impression that she is weak. Yes, she is a Hashira, but she is neither the strongest nor the weakest Demon Slayer of the Corps. She did not survive for as long as she has, protecting Valhalla from the monsters on the other side of the Bifrost, by being soft either. 

“You are not a warrior.” Giyuu!reader snapped. “You….are pathetic.” Ignoring the outraged cries bouncing across the arena, she raised her blade at him with a single hand, the tip pointed at his chest.

“It is one thing to show mercy upon an enemy. But what about an opponent who is willingly to lay down her life in this fight, and she is expecting you to share the same courtesy, yet instead she is treated…like she is weak? This is not an act of mercy you are showing me. It is dishonorable. You, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon, have done nothing but humiliate me. Is that the reason you have chosen to be a representative of the Gods in this tournament, even when you proclaim to love humans? Or will you raise your weapon, shut up, and fight me with all of the strength that you possess?” 

“Then tell me what drives you.” Hercules pleaded. “Why are you doing this?” 

“...I can’t tell if you are being serious or just stupid.” Giyuu!reader spat. “You are fighting against someone who is considered to be powerful under Lord Hades’ command. Pummel me into the ground, right here and now, and I will gladly answer your question. Unless you have figured it out already, then congratulations. Either way I’m still going to win against you, even if it means I will sacrifice myself to ensure mankind will survive.” 

For a split second, Heracles noticed how his opponent’s shoulders tensed as someone called out to her from humanity’s side of the arena. He saw a young boy with a burn mark and wearing a checkered haori waving his arms frantically, a smaller girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth mimicking him, albeit with a bit more enthusiasm. 

The demigod closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through the mouth, Heracles raised his club, the spiked edges pointed at Giyuu!reader as she kept her sword pointed at him. 

“I love humans. I do not wish to see them destroyed when I know there is still hope for them to strive, to grow, and become better. Therefore…I will not kill a warrior who is fighting for such an honorable reason. Come, I will give you what you want. Instead of a clean death, however, I will fight until one of us loses consciousness. There has been enough death here today.” 

“Fine. The victor shall be the one who is not incapacitated.” 

Heracles nodded, and got into a fighting position. So did Giyuu!reader. Although the crowd - humans and gods - jeered at their words and wished to see more carnage, Zeus silenced them with his own agreement. He will make an exception in this round of Ragnarok…but no more mercy beyond round four. 

Giyuu!reader fought against the red-haired giant, deflecting his movements and using her Breathing techniques to counterattack. But….in the end, Heracles was too powerful. Giyuu!reader lost. Another win for the gods. And Brunhilde reminded her of her failure as soon as she gained consciousness in the medical wing, the Valkyrie glaring at Giyuu!reader. 

The Water Hashira felt frustrated tears building in the back of her eyes, rapidly blinking them away and praying that Brunhilde would not see such…an unsightly display of weakness. She was prepared for another tongue lashing when a familiar, deep voice rang in the white room.

“That’s enough, Brunhilde!”

Giyuu!reader looked up and saw Heracles hobble through the door, his broad chest and left arm covered in bandages. She noticed that the demigod was leaning heavily against his club, using it as a cane of sorts as he glared at the Valkyrie. 

“It isn’t like I walked away from this fight unscathed either. Nor was it a failure on her part. Do you know how rare it is to find a human who is able to keep up with my physical strength? And it was a tie, Brunhilde, not a failure.”

Giyuu!reader stared at him with widened eyes. “...A tie?” She whispered, averting her attention back to the dark-haired woman. Brunhilde sighed, her hands planted on her hips and lips curled into a frown. 

“He speaks the truth, though in hindsight, there is no predicting how this tournament will proceed. A complete victory would have been preferable…but this…I’ll accept it. For now. And you did fight hard, and with courage, unlike some of the warriors I had spoken to before coming to you. So…forgive me.” She inclined her head slightly to Giyuu!reader before she strode towards the door. The Valkyrie then looked back at the Hashira. 

“Get some rest.” 

That was the last thing Brunhilde had said before she skittered out of the room, leaving Giyuu!reader alone with the demigod. She said nothing, watching Heracles smiling boyishly at her as he carefully lowered himself on the edge of the bed, causing Giyuu!reader to scoot a little towards the right so that he’d have enough room. “How do you feel?” Giyuu!reader asked, tilting her head. “If we were both knocked out…then why weren’t you in the same room as I? Did the gods fear I would try to finish the job as soon as I was conscious?” She would have done it too, if Heracles had been a demon instead of a half-mortal, half-god she fought against in a tournament where the fate of humanity hung in the balance.

 Giyuu!reader watched as his eyes widened for a fraction before he threw his head back, a booming laugh bouncing off the walls. He laughed for a bit, and then looked at her, his grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Sorry. I-It’s just…wow, I definitely wasn’t expecting that! No. The hospital policy is to not have men and women share the same room, even when there are curtains that can be used for privacy and so on.” He chuckled, using the back of his hand to wipe away some tears that were trickling down his face from laughing too hard. 

Giyuu!reader blinked, staring at him blankly. “I suppose that does make sense.” She muttered. “Will you be leaving soon then? I’ve heard gods and demigods have extraordinary regenerative abilities.”

“Soon.” He said, flexing his left arm. “The facilities used here are amazing, and you’ll get to go back home too!”

“And our fight was most definitely a tie?”

“Absolutely! It was a double-knock out! Everyone saw it, and they can certainly not deny it! Even Heimdall was astonished at your strength. Oh, we could even have another match when you’ve made a full recovery! Ares is an amazing fighter like you, but he’s not always available! And I’ve never seen a fighting style like yours, it’s incredible!”

Giyuu!reader stared at him for a long moment until she slowly nodded in agreement. 

“I would not mind.” She said softly. “Although…knowing Tanjiro and Nezuko, they will probably give me quite the scolding when I return to the compound.” Just when she said those words with a small smile, which caused Heracles’ heart to skip a beat upon seeing such a lovely expression on the warrior’s face, however, the door opened with a loud ‘bang’. Both of them turned and saw a little girl with a bamboo piece in her mouth, pink eyes widening before she began to weep. Without a word of warning, she blitzed towards Giyuu!reader, performing a small backflip as her body shrunk to the size of a toddler and landed squarely on the Hashira’s solar plexus, knocking the wind of her with a grunt. 

But Giyuu!reader didn’t push the child away. Instead, she pulled the little one into a hug as chubby arms coiled around her neck. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m alright, Nezuko. See? I told you everything would be fine.”  The Hashira cooed, slowly rocking her body back and forth. 

From the corner of his eye, Heracles saw another human enter the room. Taller, and he couldn’t have been younger than fifteen or seventeen summers with dark red hair and a green checkered haori draped over his black uniform with silver buttons. The demigod immediately recognized him, and the little girl. They were from the arena, and the boy called out to Giyuu!reader during the match. 

The boy, whom he had to guess was Tanjiro, stared at him with nervous, inquisitive eyes. Heracles smiled at him, and stood from the bed, allowing the tiny mortal to approach Giyuu!reader. Tanjiro beamed at him before he walked over to Giyuu!reader’s side, throwing his arms around the Water Hashira and Nezuko, burying his face in the former’s shoulder. When he pulled away, the demigod saw that this boy wasn’t even trying to hide his tears. He had been truly worried about Giyuu!reader. 

Giyuu!reader smiled at him, raising a hand and stroking the top of his head before trying to wipe away his tears, although such a tender gesture only made him cry even harder.  

While he didn't know the history between these three individuals, it was clear to Heracles that they shared a close bond with one another. He smiled, watching Giyuu!reader panicking over Tanjiro while the little one, Nezuko, looked up at him with tiny flowers over her head till she decided to hug his uninjured leg. His grin widened. 

Humans were truly amazing. 

“Say, once we’ve been cleared by the healers to be released, how about we all go out and get something to eat? My treat!”

Tanjiro and Nezuko definitely wanted to go, but they left the final decision to Giyuu!reader as they stared at her with wide, curious eyes. Giyuu!reader nodded. 

“It would be our honor, Heracles of the Grecian pantheon. I hope we can wait to spar until we’ve fully healed?” She asked with a raised brow. Heracles beamed, jabbing a thumb at his chest.

“Of course! I swear upon my honor!”

“Then it is settled.” 

Heracles felt his heart race and his smile widen upon seeing her smile for the second time. He did not know why he felt like this. The only conclusion he could come up with is that he didn’t have to kill this strangely wonderful woman and cause grief for these children. He wouldn’t find out the actual truth until much, much later.

Taglist

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[kitty-tea]

Why do you hate me

Severus Snape x reader

Wc: 5.1k

Here’s the second and finale part. Requested by multiple people here and ao3. I’m so happy I finally got around to writing it!

Warnings: Super angsty, crying, age gap, physical violence, mentions of abuse, some spiciness, but no actual smut because I’m trying to keep the entire story pg-13 in the romance department

Link to masterlist

Link to part one

Why do you hate me? That question didn’t stop plaguing Severus Snape’s mind as he left you in the corridor after he… did something you weren’t expecting him to do. He wasn’t expecting himself to kiss you either. Ever. It was an impulsive decision that he had to run away from as soon as he had sobered up from the intoxicating taste of your lips. It wasn’t just the taste he couldn’t get out of his mind throughout the day, it was how soft they were as you kissed him back. Even though you showed no signs of resisting him, he still felt guilty about kissing you without your permission. He knew he stepped over the line he should never have crossed. He couldn’t just get through the rest of the school year and look at you without being reminded of that kiss. He felt awful that it had to be him who kissed you and not someone who deserves you more than he did.

His solution was to avoid you in order to get himself away from the guilt. He knew he should’ve apologized for how he had treated you in the past, but he didn’t think you’d ever forgive him. How could he deserve your forgiveness?

For as long as he’d known you, it never made sense to him why you were placed in Slytherin when you couldn’t be any more different from the rest of them. He supposed your pure-blood lineage had something to do with it. He also knew who your parents were. He met them when he first became a Death Eater, and not that much long after, he became your teacher.

As his student, he never shied away from treating you with the same distaste as he did with students from other houses. What irked him the most about you was how kind you tried to be to everyone who was supposed to be seen as being beneath you. He saw that as a sign of weakness.

It wasn’t difficult for him to figure out your parents were the same Death Eaters he met as a young man even though they never mentioned having a daughter. He could only assume that they didn’t like you which made sense considering how different your personality was from theirs. You still had their last name, and you looked like them.

He thought after you had graduated that he’d never have to see you again, but that night Dumbledore introduced you as a new teacher, he was shocked at how wrong he was proven to be.

He couldn’t believe it was you sitting next to him after not seeing each other for years. This time you were his equal. During those three years, Snape noticed you… changed a lot. Except for the happy personality you put out. He also hated how his heart skipped a beat in front of you for the first time at the moment you smiled at him.

After that, every time he’d see you around the school, that same feeling kept coming back inside him, making him feel like he was being lured in by a siren until he broke out of your control that you didn’t even know you had over him. Every time you were in a room together, his eyes were magnetized to wherever you were. His attraction towards you was growing at an alarming rate, and he wasn’t pleased at all.

You were the complete opposite of him: gentle and kind while he was cruel and callous, something he’d gotten used to everyone seeing him as.

Another thing he didn’t understand about you was how you never grew to act bitter and resentful like him after everything he put you through, especially with how he had passed on to you the anger from the trauma he had experienced in school and at home.

Maybe fate had a reason to bring you two together again, to make him recognize the regret he should’ve felt for how he treated you. And he did, which was why he felt like he couldn’t be in your presence anymore after he had kissed you.

Not only was he filled with regret for how he had treated you, but he was also filled with regret for kissing you. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy it because he did. That’s what made him regret it in the first place. It was too overwhelming for him to think about.

What was a relief for him was the fact that he had managed to successfully avoid you for the rest of the school year, even if you had to be in the same room together, you were never alone with him. He didn’t know what he would do if that happened.

No matter how much he tried averting his gaze, you were always that temptation that burned a hole in his peripheral vision. He could feel your eyes on him, a curious gaze, nothing malicious, but making that hole burn deeper.

Every time he had accidentally become trapped in your gaze, he could read the endless questions you had in your eyes even without using magic: why did you kiss me? Why are you ignoring me? Am I that horrible?

No, you weren’t horrible. It was he who was horrible. He had always been too harsh on you. You were clearly too pure and innocent to be associated with someone like him.

As soon as the school year was over, Snape felt relieved that he was guaranteed to never see you again. Or so he thought.

You didn’t tell your students why you were leaving, but Snape had to take a guess that it was because the remaining Death Eaters who weren’t imprisoned had likely tried coercing you in an attempt to join them, scaring you off.

It wasn’t until after you graduated from school that your parents had officially acknowledged your existence to him long after he was able to connect the dots of your relation to them. In short, the less than savory things he read about you in their letters only confirmed his suspicions about them acting as if you didn’t exist earlier. At first Snape didn’t know if he should empathize with you; you were treated worse by your parents as a child than he had been by his. In the end, when he reunited with you as a teacher, he decided to continue to treat you the same as he always had, a reflection of his bitter self he couldn’t let go of and grow past.

After the school year, Snape thought that not seeing you was enough for him to get you off his mind, but he should’ve realized that your parent’s letters to him were a constant reminder of your existence for the past three years since you left his life for the second time. He now had to dread the inevitability of seeing you again after being summoned by your parents to your family home. He wasn’t sure if you were hiding out there, but he liked to think you were somewhere far away with a new life, away from him.

He hoped for your sake that you had made a new life for yourself in a place that was happier and more suitable for you, unlike the gray, dreary living room he was seated in with your parents sitting opposite of him.

Apparently you had not done that because as soon as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs, he turned his head and saw you.

“Mother? Father? What are you doing here?” Snape wondered how on earth you could look and sound so chirpy to see such dreadful people.

“Professor Snape?” He cringed at how you seemed to shrink back a little as if being hit by the pain he had caused you three years ago. “I didn’t know you and my parents knew each other.”

He saw your parents roll their eyes.

“Yes. As we understand, he was also your teacher in school, then your colleague.” Your mother looked at you as if she were talking to a non-sentient creature that she wanted to shoo away.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen you since I said goodbye to you on the train before my first year at Hogwarts! I hope you’re happy with how the house has been. I’ve done my best to care for it.”

Snape almost choked on his own spit. He couldn’t believe it. Did he just hear in other words that your parents left you at the train station and never bothered to check in on you or take care of you during the holidays? That you were left with no family? At least his own parents made sure that he was with them during school holidays even if his situation at home wasn’t the best.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” You said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you when I woke up.”

“That’s because we just got here now.” Your father scoffed.

“Oh… Well, there’s so much to catch up on! I was sorted into Slytherin! Just like you and Professor Snape! Isn’t that wonderful?” You sounded so proud and hopeful that they’d be proud of you in turn.

“Why have you come back? I missed you.” You said. How could you sound genuine and sincere towards them?

“We’ll discuss that later. We have company. Go put on something… other than that.” Your mother scrunched up her nose in a way that made her look both disgusting and disgusted as she pointed at your outfit which consisted of a hoodie, leggings, and bunny slippers. Snape hated to admit to himself that even in plain Muggle clothes you still looked beautiful.

After you went upstairs he realized how hollow he felt without you in his presence. He hadn’t recognized the light you brought in wherever you went until you were gone.

He drowned out your parents’ conversation as his thoughts drifted over to you. It was as if the more he tried to stop thinking about you the more the opposite happened since the day he kissed you.

“Ugh. What is taking that wretched thing so long?” Your mother groaned, tapping her foot impatiently. “Severus, go make sure she has listened to my orders. Tell her to come down. First door next to the stairs.” She commanded him.

He didn’t say anything as he simply stood up, letting his cloak trail behind him. Any excuse to get out of the boring conversation would do.

He swore he wasn’t thinking when he turned the knob of the door and found it unlocked.

“I… apologize. I should have knocked.” The sentence came out of his throat sounding constricted.

He shouldn’t have looked either.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw how perfect and elegant you looked in just your black lingerie. There was nothing you could do to hide the bright redness of your cheeks as your eyes met each other through the mirror of the vanity you were sitting in front of. There was nothing he could do as well to prevent his own eyes from shamefully devouring the sight of your exposed skin he couldn’t stop dreaming of running his fingers over. Feeling guilty for thinking that, he harshly turned himself around, his heart racing in his chest.

“Your mother sent me to check on you.” Snape said after he was by some miracle able to come to his senses. Even though his back was turned towards you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how you looked and how he felt seeing that much of your skin exposed in front of him, with only the bare minimum covered with the flimsy lace fabric.

There was no way he’d ever be able to convince himself that he only saw you as the same student from all those years ago now that he knew what you looked like in… such a revealing state. Not to mention the way you looked at him in turn. The innocence that you projected in your eyes chipped at his cold heart, crumbling it until guilt speared through his conscience.

“Sir, could you… give me a hand?” You called out in a shaky voice.

He didn’t say anything as he turned back around, making sure to keep his gaze away from you at a respectable enough distance.

“I need help putting this on. Please?” You held out a black velvet choker with some sort of a dark colored jewel pendant attached to it. He never recalled seeing you wear such elaborate jewelry before. He wondered if you’d gotten it from some other man that had caught your affection. His heart ignited with jealousy at that thought. After all, what man wouldn’t be smitten with you? You were too beautiful to not be spared a second glance from any stranger.

He heard you shiver as he gathered your hair, his fingers brushing the delicate skin on your neck. He could still feel your eyes on him through the mirror with every movement he made as his nimble fingers clasped the necklace.

Suddenly, snippets of your last conversation together fogged his ability to think.

Your tears running down your cheeks as you begged for answers that one day.

Him not being able to say anything, instead crashing his lips against yours.

Your soft lips moving in sync with his.

How he hated the feeling of being so drawn to you.

Why was your beauty even more irresistible to him after spending years without you? The answer was because he was a depraved man. There was nothing that could satisfy his depravity more than a beautiful, innocent woman in front of him.

He couldn’t hold himself back. With each caress of his fingers over your skin, he felt that same hard exterior melt away, and he did not care. He was done caring.

You let out another shaky breath as his fingers trailed below your ear and down the back of your shoulder blade. He dared to take a look into the mirror to see your eyelids flutter, and your teeth biting your bottom lip, pleasure written clearly all over your face.

He really wanted to see you make that face again in… other situations. What was he thinking? That wasn’t right. He almost felt guilty about letting those other thoughts about the things he could do to you slip into his mind. Almost. He swallowed a huge lump that had formed in his throat at that idea.

With his free hand, he placed it onto the vanity next to where yours was, laying unassumingly. His thumb inched its way to your pinky finger before running along the length. It was a hesitant movement, one that he decided he would retreat from if you voiced any discomfort or showed any signs of it. Except you didn’t. In fact, you were the one who took it further, placing your entire hand under his and intertwining your fingers together.

With this unexpected move from you, Snape had confirmation that you wanted more of him as much as he did from you.

He noticed that there were no words exchanged between you for several minutes. Not that there needed to be.

As he forgot about your impatient parents downstairs, he debated his next move. You were still turned towards the mirror, looking into his reflection demurely, soft lips pouted. You didn’t seem to know what to do, leading him to make the assumption that you didn’t have much experience with men in these situations. It was up to him to take the lead.

Still hesitant with his movements, he brought up his other hand from its spot along your hair, back to your neck, this time caressing the soft skin once again. He smirked a little at the little noises that left your mouth. He knew he could find the right places to touch you to get you to whimper, acting like you were so shy to reveal this part of yourself, the part that enjoyed being pleasured by someone else.

He looked to where your choker pendant sat around your neck, imagining for a moment that it was his hand wrapped around you instead, holding onto you like a delicate flower, too precious and fragile to dare to crush. He had committed many heinous acts with those same hands, tortured, beaten, and much worse. He didn’t deserve to touch something so virtuous after all that he had done. It was wrong. So why did touching you feel so perfect?

Worst of all, because you had no knowledge of his past activities, he was dreading the time you’d find out which he knew would be very soon.

But all that was thrown out the window as soon as his fingers found their way under your bra strap without him having any memory of them moving there. He wanted to see your face as he let it fall off your shoulder. How much more beautiful could you get?

Even if he wanted to resist (which he didn’t anymore,) he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself as his lips found their way to your skin. Except they didn’t.

“Severus! What is taking her so long?! Make sure she comes here… At once!” Your mother’s shrill voice was what broke whatever spell he was under.

“You heard your mother. You should get dressed.” Just like that, he was instantly back to the stoic man you always knew him as. He didn’t have time anymore to think about what he had just done or how far he had almost taken things with you.

He regretted looking back at the mirror to see your disappointed face, frowning with a far away look in your eyes.

Snape didn’t bother explaining to your parents anything as he came downstairs, ignoring their annoyed sneers. He assumed you weren’t that far behind.

“When we tell you to do something, we expect you to do it efficiently.” Was the first thing your mother scolded you when you entered the living room.

You were wearing the same color as the pieces of clothing Snape had last seen you in, a black dress with sheer sleeves and a cinched waist.

“I’m sorry… I-” Your eyes flicked over to Snape’s, cheeks bright red presumably thinking about what had happened between you. Unlike you, he was much better at hiding his emotions, barely sparing you a glance. “I couldn’t find something suitable much quicker.” You finished.

“Apologize to Severus. You kept him waiting too long.” Your mother scolded you again.

“Sorry I kept you waiting too long.” You looked down, not daring to meet his eyes.

The next few moments came at him too fast in a blur. Your mother grabbed your arm and spun you to face her and your father’s sneering faces. Her palm connected to your cheek, the slap making you stumble back but not enough to make you fall over.

She leaned over to your height, and said in a low voice that sounded threatening, “You are and always have been insufferable. Now go and make dinner. We have more guests coming.” She gave your arm another painful looking jerk before letting go.

Without a word or a glance, you held your cheek as you turned away and walked into the kitchen.

Snape stood in shook, blinking at the open space where you had been. Out of all the horrible things he’d seen, none of them could come close to a parent hurting their child. He didn’t even know he still had it in him to feel shocked at something like that.

Your parents had to be on another level of evil to treat you like that in front of other people.

That was one of those moments that involuntarily made him dig up memories from even before his dark past as a Death Eater and his days as a student at Hogwarts, back to his childhood. He thought he had buried those memories of his own family deep enough not to be revisited.

From what Severus Snape had seen, your parents treated you more like a House Elf rather than their child to care for. On top of that, they had no problem showing off their disdain for you in front of company as much as other parents would show off their child’s achievements. There was obviously no way you didn’t think this wasn’t normal. You just didn’t know any better.

As you sat next to him at the dinner table you never spoke unless spoken to, which wasn’t often in the conversation. Remembering what your parents had asked him to do, his heart was shaking inside his chest as his eyes kept darting to your face, to the red welt on your cheek.

There you sat at the table with several other Death Eaters, completely oblivious to the turmoil inside of him, as much as the other guests were to the longing glances you were giving him. It was like you didn’t care or know how to hide your feelings.

You were too innocent to be caught up in the types of people similar to your parents. Unfortunately for you, your innocence only made your parents even more eager to find ways to break you, something Snape didn’t wish to see anymore, but only after he stopped denying his feelings. That still didn’t make him a better person, nor did it make any of the things he’d done to you acceptable. Maybe he was too far gone to ever truly become a better person for you, himself, or anyone. He should never have treated you so harshly in the first place from the moment you stepped into his classroom.

After what seemed like forever, he felt as if he could breathe again as he saw people leave the table one by one and migrate to the living room until it was just him and your parents who remained while you walked around, collecting the plates.

Meet me inside the guest room at midnight.

You picked up the note that was written on a piece of napkin under a plate. You knew exactly who wrote it even if he disguised his handwriting and placed it at a completely different seat than where he sat. He was also the only person staying at the house. Why he felt the need to hide his identity even though you were obviously the only person who would see the note, you had no idea.

You just hoped you’d have your first proper conversation in three years. Your heart pounded faster at that thought. You might’ve been naive (which you had often been accused of being) but you weren’t stupid. You could tell Professor Snape had gone out of his way to avoid you for the rest of the school year after he kissed you that one day. You wanted to get more answers out of him, but at the same time you knew you shouldn’t be pushing him, so you gave him space. You started to wonder if he thought he had made a mistake. Were you really that horrible?

However, you couldn’t deny the way had started to look at you with those piercing black eyes that had made you blush back when you were still his student. You didn’t exactly understand why you had to develop a crush on him out of all people. Why couldn’t it have been someone your age? You wished you could control who you were attracted to, then maybe you would feel the way you should feel about him, and not get butterflies in your stomach in his presence.

You were so distracted by your thoughts that you almost dropped the plates into the kitchen sink. You stopped your movements and blinked before getting sidetracked again.

You sighed, remembering the fiery feeling along your skin that trailed beneath his fingers making a thrill run through you. That wasn’t all that he did.

Even though it was midnight, your parents and the guests were still talking, leaving you confused on why Professor Snape instructed you to meet him in the guest room. Maybe he wanted you to go inside and wait for him so that your parents wouldn’t see you. The note did say “inside” after all.

You opened the door, and quietly shut it behind you before leaning against it and letting out an exhale. You were still wearing the same clothes as earlier since you hadn’t bothered getting changed.

Wondering what Professor Snape wanted to talk about, your mind rushed with theories of your own that were accompanied by a feeling of dread that crawled through your chest and stomach. What if he was coming to tell you that this whole thing, whatever was going on between you two was a mistake?

You pushed yourself off the door and paced around in small circles, keeping your head down until you heard the door open.

Your head jerked up as your eyes met his black ones. He was already so close to you, and you had forgotten how much his taller frame loomed over you.

You weren’t able to control the speed of your breathing, and you didn’t care about how scared you looked. He always knew you were scared of him anyway.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, not knowing what else to say, not that you ever did in front of him.

He didn’t say anything. He only took out a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to you.

From the moonlight outside the tall window, you could barely read it.

Make her join us or kill her.

“What does this mean?” You looked up at him. You didn’t know if you were confused, shocked, or both. “Wh-who wants you to… kill me?”

You didn’t know you had started crying until you felt a thumb sliding against your wet cheek.

“I received this note from your parents earlier.” He said. In contrast to you, he showed no emotion.

“Why? I don’t understand. Why would…” You never thought your parents would ever want any harm to come to you. They were your parents after all. They were supposed to love and protect you like how any other parent should.

Your former professor took a deep breath. “I would never let anyone hurt you. Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” You answered after wondering why he would doubt you trusted him.

“Haven’t you had your life threatened by someone before?” He asked shakily.

“Well… yes.” You thought about the time you received letters from the Death Eaters who weren’t imprisoned, telling you the horrible things they would do to you when they found you. Luckily, you left your teaching job at Hogwarts before they could reach you.

“I will explain everything. Eventually, you’ll find out the truth. I can protect you. From everyone, even your parents. I promise I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Why did you kiss me?” You blurted out. Professor Snape blinked at the change in subject.

“It was a mistake.” He set his mouth in a firm line.

“It didn’t seem like it…” To your dismay, your eyes were starting to water again, but you were able to blink the tears away. “I didn’t think it was.” You looked into his night sky-colored eyes.

“You don’t understand.” He said. You instinctively leaned in a little as the backs of his cold fingers traced along your heated cheek before he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I wasn’t lying to you… about what I said that one day.” He continued. He took another deep breath. “Which is why I can’t allow things to go further. It would be selfish of me. Because… of the things I’ve done.” You could tell he was having a hard time getting his thoughts out. You wanted to tell him it was alright and that he could tell you anything, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to take it the wrong way and think you were pushing him to tell you more than what he was comfortable with.

“What will happen with us, then?” You asked.

“I told you that I was going to protect you, and I will.”

Damn it, you were making things so difficult for Severus Snape and you didn’t realize it. On top of acting as a double agent for Albus Dumbledore, protecting Harry Potter, fooling the other Death Eaters, and his teaching job, he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up, whatever “this” was. He really did care about you, and revealing his feelings for you was a mistake.

For a moment he envied you. Everything was so simple to you. You tried to look for the good in everybody, even the people who obviously didn’t deserve it, such as him or your parents.

And now, you were in danger thanks to your parents and Voldemort’s return. Snape hoped that the day would never come where you would directly face that danger. He truly wished for your innocence to be protected.

“Are you alright, sir?” Your sweet voice broke him out of his own mental prison.

He looked down to where you placed your hands into his. You slowly intertwined your fingers through his, making them look like a tangled mess, reminding him of what his life had come to.

“You didn’t really mean it. Did you?” He didn’t know what you were talking about at first. “It didn’t feel like a mistake… Especially after what almost happened earlier.” You added in an almost whisper. Even though it was mostly dark, he could still see the blush in your cheeks.

He had dug himself into an even deeper hole when he walked into your bedroom without knocking (which he shouldn’t have done,) and took things that far with you. And he would have if he wasn’t interrupted. That’s what scared him, how much he wanted you, how lovely it was to see you, kiss you, touch you in ways he could tell you hadn’t known you liked to be touched.

“You’re right. I… didn’t. I was only lying to myself.” He confessed. He wanted to tell you so much more, like the regret he felt for everything he did to you, but he couldn’t. Because he realized you weren’t the one who was weak, he was. He didn’t know how much more difficult he could make his own life.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from hungrily gazing at you. The moonlight made you look ethereal, highlighting your beauty, tempting him, telling him to come closer and get a taste of what he wanted: you.

Your eyes shined brighter than the stars, pulling him into that siren-like trance you always had him in, but this time he let himself get pulled in. He didn’t want to get out, he wanted to stay where he was, with his lips locked onto yours.

[galesdevoteewife]

Some thoughts on Act 3 cutscene, endings and the line “To know you love me for the man I am"

[ Gale romance spoiler all the way to the epilogue ]

In my vanilla playthrough, the particular act 3 cutscene dialogue which Gale wanted the crown caught me off guard. It was one of the rare bg3 moments that stirred complicated feelings within me. (to a point I was considering maybe I should romance Emperor lmao) The structure of his proposal felt thoroughly planned and scripted. Every question I raised was met with a well prepared answer.

Too ambitious? It's not for myself; it's for us, for the greater good. Too dangerous? What have we done that wasn't risky? We're up to the task! Power corrupts? Just a means to an end. I’ll still be me, just an improved version. Now I only need a kiss.

I viewed it from the perspective of him hard-selling the player a difficult decision, and the entire conversation felt strategic. Topping it off with the famous line, “With you, I forget my goddess. I love you.” Such a powerful, attention-grabbing statement delivered with utmost sincerity. It's likely that the player would remember only this line, also making it more difficult to reject him. While I don't doubt his love for them, his motives were a question to me.

One of the things that makes Gale's darker path unique is that everything looks beautiful—voyage through the galaxy, kissing lovers, his voice, so tender and sincere. There's no eerie light, no violence, no bloodshed.

Some thoughts on his true intention and how insecurity is the must-solve in Gale's romance arc

In my opinion Gale’s main emotional knot in relationship is the insecurities he harbors. He holds a logic that he is loved (or tolerated) because of his power. Gale Dekarios wanted to be seen and loved but he "holds a poor figure next to Gale of Waterdeep". While there are exceptions like Tara, his mother, and perhaps Elminster, who love him for who he is; it's not his default to believe that people would appreciate him without his power/achievement/service.

With that in mind and let's circle back to why he wants godhood.

If the player reject him in the boat scene, his instant reaction is: “But I could be so much more to you.” If they reject godGale: “I achieved everything we hoped I would, and still I'm not good enough for you?” –Not a word about the better world. I wasn’t convinced he wanted the godhood “for the betterment of all”.

Instead, what he truly wants is the player’s heart... and I think he believes that obtaining the crown and godhood can win them over. Awkwardly, he would need their help to get rid of the elder brain and he is trying hard to convince them.

Some argue that godGale quickly transforms into the type of passive deity he despised, but I hold my opinion on how deeply he cares about the world in the first place. True, he could sacrifice himself to save the day, but he always says "it's the right way/fate" with nothing empathetic for the general folks. I am suspicious that he says it to dismiss the player's concern.

A bit of addition to this theory. Seeking godhood is not a new ambition for him, according to Elminster's epilogue letter. In my canon, he desired it for Mystra if not for the player, attempting to draw closer to her as an equal.

Gale, the god of ambition

Ascending without resolving inner conflicts is like thrusting a dagger into redemption Durge's hands, potentially exacerbating the situation. The ascension path strengthens this twisted logic. Looking at the godGale romance ending cutscene, he gets to dress the player in matching outfits, hold them in his arms, in his realm, in his symbol. They are finally his, and he would believe it’s the power that made it happen.

However, this would lead down to a never ending thorny path with an insatiable hunger. As a god of ambition, it's in his nature to desire more, continually pursuing additional power because it's a viable all-purpose solution in his mind. He will work his way up to the god rank, might even consume a few, "bringing chaos that even trembles the heavens" —according to Raphael. And guess what? In the dnd universe, there are even superior beings above AO.

Nonetheless I hold hopes and optimism towards the godGale romance. I don’t see anything stopping the player from starting to make things better and nudging him into better use of his godhood. Ambition is not necessarily a bad thing. However, at the point where the game ends, this path is a dimmer one.

Some thoughts on the line: “To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command... None have loved me so purely before.”

When I first saw this line and my tav reacted with a sad face I thought she was thinking “Huh? But i love you for your magic too??” xD

It just doesn’t make sense if he is drawing a conclusion that the player would love him for a 0 magic muggle Gale. He is a wizard. His alliance with the player was built on him contributing to their journey with his magical ability, and their romance was sparked by a shared moment through the weave.

My interpretation is that what he meant by “the magic I command” was referring to the mighty power he used to possess, and “the man I am” was everything he showed you—his love for magic, nerdy side, witty jokes, cooking… things that he thinks define who he truly is. In my canon, he probably went through a long period where his title/talent was all that mattered to people, for his portfolio was way too strong (if I read my dnd materials right, lorewise he could be a legendary character even. I will make a post once I put my findings together). The Chosen of Mystra (among the 22 known chosen in more than a thousand years, some of them are even Mystra’s daughters), the prodigy archmage with the gift to conduct the weave. He could have experienced hurt multiple times as people showed little interest in his personality, then he fell back to conceal Gale Dekarios behind the Gale of Waterdeep fortress. However, this consequently blocked him from building real friendships/relationships.

His circle is small, yet I suspect it's partly because he wouldn't let people come close enough to see Gale Dekarios. Even in Act 3, he still wants to keep it between the player and himself. At the beginning of the journey, he denied the player's attempts to know anything other than his profession. If the player is a wizard, he would even play authority and "apprentice" them. By the by, here's an interesting reading about how he might be masking.

Professor Dekarios of Illusory school

Lastly, my favorite path for Gale! Ugh, it just melts me to see him smile that wayyy (How can Tim and the team be so genius and make the expression distinctive???? I mean, he has been smiling all the time, but especially sweet in the epilogue???) He is content. He knows he doesn't need the mask, nor power, or godhood for the player and him to be each other's. From my point of view, it's an arc of self-acceptance and unknotting. He is convinced power isn't everything, and he chooses to teach illusory magic (gotta admit, destruction-force wise it’s almost a harmless school) for he is the one who wants magic for realizing imagination and the one who shed tears over burned roses.

The path in which Gale Dekarios believes that he is seen, understood, loved, and finds peace. Nothing I would like him to have more. I hold true love for this fictional 3D man *wipe away joyful tears*

Sidenote [1]: Some hate Gale for thinking he's only “pretending”. I personally think he is a well-layered character, for there are so many ways to explain him and plenty of room for ambiguity, making it fun to think about his thinking.

Sidenote [2]: I inevitably project some of myself onto him. The concept of “you don’t need to try so hard, pretending to be someone else to be accepted by the world. you only need to find the right band.” is a kind thought that’s so cozy to me.

[yanderes-galore]

Sir Pentious from Hazbin Hotel concept, please? I love snake boi so much and I know you do too lmao

Yeah... and I still do, lol. May not be as into Hazbin as I used to, but I still enjoy the snake.

Yandere! Sir Pentious Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Clingy behavior, Manipulation, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Violence, Murder/Accidental death mentioned, Dubious/Forced relationship.

I'm going to say it now, Pentious is a pathetic yandere.

He'd try so hard to follow through with his yandere schemes, only for something to go wrong.

The only way he'd succeed is most likely by accident.

He's often loud and easy to excite.

He's persistent yet also seems shy when it comes to romance or anything intimate.

We can see this in the show with Cherri.

He'd definitely want to be the center of his obsession's attention.

He'd do anything for you to acknowledge him.

An example is him making inventions to impress you.

He follows you around eagerly but sometimes would be too anxious to talk to you properly.

He wants his obsession to think he's cool and probably gets emotionally attached to them easily.

It's also canon Sir Pentious watches people sleep, apparently.

So... He's definitely going to slither beside your bed when you're asleep and just stare.

I can just see Sir Pentious planning things but... his plans never go the way he wants them to.

Like, I can see Pentious killing another sinner by accident... but failing anything purposeful.

Who knows, maybe that accident actually works in his favor.

Same thing with kidnapping.

He'd set up this elaborate plan to lure you into a trap.

Only for it to fail.

For the most part he's just clingy with you.

He respects you, looks up to you, finds you pretty to look at...

Yet can't approach you for the life of him.

When he does converse with you... He's so awkward.

He really is trying to connect but he gets so flustered.

If Pentious succeeded in making you his, it's probably out of pity or complete accident.

In fact, there's a chance he could win you over without you even seeing his yandere behavior.

He's adorable in a way... even if he's failing being bad.

He's a good inventor and has a weak form of hypnosis, but it's nowhere close to someone like Vox.

The most you're affected by it is being stunned like Angel was.

Pentious' biggest issue is being clingy.

I imagine he's a fan of physical affection from his obsession.

Considering he's a snake... Hugs are quite literally constricting.

So I think even if you were good friends or close, if he didn't want you to leave, he'd probably constrict you then not move.

Again, considering he's a snake, you could probably incorporate his bite into his behavior.

Sir Pentious has the tools to be a dangerous yandere towards his obsession...

But not the mindset.

Pentious could, if he really tried, kidnap you properly.

He could constrict you, maybe bite you, then probably keep you in his ship.

However... He usually stays away from such an idea.

He wants to try "wooing" you properly first.

What a gentleman....

Sir Pentious most likely experiences jealousy, but he's really petty.

He knows he hates not being the center of your attention and he acts a bit childish about it.

It's like a competition to him... Even if you're simply chatting with someone else.

Sir Pentious would quickly want to grab your attention, even if he's usually admiring you from afar.

"H-Hey! Hey, wait! I-I made this cool invention I want to show you! Also, Charlie showed me this new exercise! Can we hang out...?"

He's so shy and awkward when it comes to relationships, it's hard to see his true nature towards you.

He acts cute and his plans mostly don't work...

However, there's most likely always the threat he may succeed at some point if pushed.

Sure, his failed attempts at courtship are cute now...

Until he succeeds.

While I still can't see him as killing someone on purpose due to jealousy (Without getting completely ruined by the other person)...

Kidnapping is plausible.

You trust Sir Pentious, so he could probably lure you away and bite you if he wanted.

Normally he just wants to try flirting or attempts at affection.

You don't suspect a thing until his fangs slip into your neck.

Even then he's mumbling out quick apologies as he scoops you up.

He definitely keeps you in his ship and tries to play things off.

Oh! This was all just a little... surprise he put together, yeah!

Said surprise is a room full of things dedicated to you and a bed in the middle of it for you to sit on.

He really didn't want to kidnap you the more he got to know you...

Yet he was so tired of being ignored.

Sir Pentious only wanted you to look his way.

However... It appears the only way he can have you is through restraints.

He just wishes you could be only his.

While Sir Pentious can also be a yandere you can have a (mostly) normal relationship with...

With a bit of motivation, like an obsession choosing to ignore his feelings or is with someone else, may make him snap enough to become dangerous despite his submissive nature.

He can try manipulating you away and trying to grasp your attention...

Yet sometimes it isn't enough...

Leading to you being locked away for his own eyes only.

Even in captivity, Sir Pentious tries to make your "relationship" seem normal.

He showers you in gifts he made, he smothers you in affection...

The snake really enjoys cuddles.

Sir Pentious loves to slither beside you as you sleep, nuzzling into your neck.

He's a pathetic yandere, one someone may consider charming...

But he's still a cunning snake...

He's still a potential danger to you, and all it takes is one bite to make him switch.

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Fem!Reader : Forged Of Fire Chapter 47

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Raised under the tiranny of your own family, and forced to steal to earn your keep, you struggle to survive. Born from a Fey mother, and a Manblood father who wanted only sons, you are forced to hide your Fey side. When you are ordered to steal from Father Carden by your half-brother, Cassian, your life spirals out of control and you find yourself at the mercy of the Weeping Monk. The life you knew changes drastically when Cassian betrays you in the cruelest of ways. A trade is made, a promise is broken, and a debt must be paid.

Chapter Title: The Legacy of Ashes

Notes: So, this is where I ended it :( . I consider the chapters that will follow this as 'extras'.

Special warning for this chapter: !!!!Smut/spice. Foreplay. Intercrural intercourse. Unprotected PIV intercourse. Consensual.!!!

Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Trauma bonding. Intrafamily violence. Depression. Self-harm. Suicidal thoughts. Violence. Torture. Gore. Pining. Trauma. Self-Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc. Lima/Stockholm syndrom-ish. Childhood trauma.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forced Marriage. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn. Found Familly-ish. Comfort. Fluff. !SMUT and SPICE!

Word count of this fic: +250K

Chapter:  47/47

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  The day of the ceremony came on the day of the first fall of snow. And even though you were already wed, the thought of partaking in such a ceremony was nerve wracking. It would be an intimate affair with only a few present.

You had picked a gown that you had successfully kept hidden from Lancelot’s eyes. Red Spear had taken that task on her shoulders and kept it in a chest in her room, she was very serious about no one touching that chest without permission, keeping treasure safe just happened to be one of her talents.

Arthur was the one who found a cloak at the market for you to wear, you hadn’t even asked, it was just a symbol of his kindness. Percival picked flowers for a headpiece and he may have plucked nearly every flower there still was near the castle to find the ones he liked the most. Gawain said not a word about the flowers Percival had picked to Lancelot, nor about the gown or cloak. But neither had the knight spoken about what Lancelot wanted to wear, they had visited the village together and returned acting quite suspicious. There was a chest in your shared bedroom that Lancelot used to store his clothing and some items, a habit from when he was with the paladins, but ever since they had returned from the village that chest had remained locked.

And as Pym and Arthur helped you with getting ready for the ceremony, you couldn’t help but look at the chest. The handy Arthur placed the headpiece, that he had made with Percival’s flowers, upon your head, noticing the curious look you threw at the chest that had finally unlocked earlier that day.

“That curious to see if Lancelot has good taste in clothing?” he asked with a grin.

“Shut up…” you mumbled.

Pym swatted at his arm once. “Don’t tease her. She’s already nervous.”

“I am not that nervous.” you denied it.

Arthur continued to tease you, “That’s why you asked if we’re sure we didn’t see him ride away from the castle?”

Alright, maybe the nerves were getting to you. “I don’t want to waste people’s time if he were to change his mind, that’s all.”

“Of course.” he grinned.

You looked down at the dress, it’s color was neutral but the embroidery was delicate and beautiful. “Do you think he will like this gown?”

“Of course he will.” Pym blurted it out as if the other option was impossible.

Arthur was a bit more forward with his opinion on it. “He may find it difficult to keep his attention on your eyes alone if you decide not to wear the cloak.”

You looked down again, having to agree with him. The neckline was more open than you’d usually choose, but the fabric was too beautiful to pass on.

“Arthur!” Pym smacked his upper arm twice. “Shut up!”

You winced. “It’s fine, Pym. It think he may be right about that…”

Arthur picked up the cloak to help you put it on. “But this will help keep him focused.” It was a deep shade of blue, a heavy and thick fabric. “Come here.”

You stepped closer, letting him drape the cloak over your shoulders and the hood over your head. “I love this cloak. Thank you again for acquiring it for me, Arthur.”

He plucked a loose hair from it. “It was my pleasure. You look stunning in it.”

The cloak did give the feeling that it was a protective layer to hide from the world when it would get too much, it was a welcome shield. “Thank you.”

He was enthusiastic for the day. “Now. Not to worry. As asked, Gawain arranged for only a couple of people to be present. Some of Guine-… Red’s crew did insist on attending. And by Percival’s request there will be a feast afterwards for all to eat and drink what they’d like.”

There was no doubt in you that the boy would take full advantage of that if not supervised. “Just keep Percival away from the wine.”

“Good point.” Pym said.

The jest rolled out. “And Pym too.”

“Oi!” she protested, swatting at your arm now. “I helped you!”

“I wasn’t being serious.” you snorted a laugh

She let out a small sigh, rolling her eyes but with a smile. “We should get going.”

“We have time.” Arthur quickly said, appearing rather nervous. “Let’s just enjoy this day, take our time.”

You grew suspicious. “Is there something wrong?”

He cleared his throat, feeling the suspicious stares of both you and Pym. “No.”

“Arthur.” Pym sensed that he was trying to deceive you. “What’s going on?”

He tried not to alarm you. “They asked me not to worry you with it. Just wait here for a while, read a little, talk to us a bit.”

Your smile fell. “Arthur, this is the day of my joining, don’t lie to me.”

He sighed. “Alright. Just… don’t worry, alright? There is a slight problem.”

Your hands tightened around the arms of the chair you sat in. “What sort of problem?”

He took a step back. “Gawain and Lancelot left with Red Spear and some of the crew. News was received about Fey in trouble not so far from here.”

He had tried to keep it a secret that the one you were supposed to give your vows to was not even present?!?

Panic set in. “When did they leave?!?”

“This morning.” Arthur sheepishly admitted. “That’s why I came to help so early.”

“I shouldn’t be getting ready for this ceremony while my husband is out there risking his life!” You grabbed your sword and stomped out of the room. Arthur and Pym chased after you.

He tried to change your mind, “You can’t fight in that dress-”

You didn’t look back and quickly walked through the halls to reach the stables. “Watch me.”

Setting foot in the courtyard made you halt. Lancelot had returned along with the others and stood next to Gawain. From what you could hear they had successfully freed a group of Feys out of the hands of people who had wanted to hand them over to the Church. Among the ones they had saved, there were three young women gathered around Lancelot and carefully fawning over him. It was no wonder, he looked terribly handsome in the attire he wore now. His cloak a deep shade of blue, much like your own, matched the color of his shirt and the new jerkin he wore was a dark grey, all of it had embroidery on it that looked like Fey symbols. It would have looked spectacular if it had not been stained by blood. His eyes locked on you and for a moment it felt like everything else no longer existed in the world.

There you stood, in the snow. The beautiful cloak draped over your shoulders, the hood of it curved around your face and made you look ethereal. The gown complimented your body so well that his hands ached to touch it.

He stepped away from Gawain and crossed the distance of the courtyard to reach you. Your eyes swerved over him, growing concerned about the blood.

“Are you hurt?” Your hands searched for signs of injury on him.

His gaze traveled over you freely. “Beautiful…”

You blinked, his hands came to your waist and drew you in closer. “What happened?”

He couldn’t help but appreciate the gown while he explained the situation, “A group of men were traveling through the area with Fey they had captured. They had hoped to trade them to the paladins for coin.”

“Why not tell me?” you asked. “I would have come along and helped. Why tell Arthur to deceive me?”

He prayed he was not in trouble over it. “I did not want to worry you. I want this day to be perfect, you deserve a true joining.”

A small sigh fled your lips. “It would have been anything but perfect if I learned that you were harmed or killed.”

“I am unharmed.” He smiled with caution.

“Uhm…?” Percival pulled your attention, then pointed at your gown.

Some of the blood had come off Lancelot’s clothes and stained your gown. The Ash Man got a little pale upon seeing it as well, swallowing hard when his eyes flickered up to yours to read your response.

He had ruined the soft fabric, tainting it with the blood of those he’d fought, while you looked so breathtakingly beautiful in it…

You couldn’t help but pout. “My gown…”

He felt so guilty. “I will find you another. I promise I-”

“No. It will do. I prepared for this ceremony for days, I am not delaying it.” A playful smile curved your lips whilst whispering to him, “I’ll just take it off later.”

The change in his eyes was instant, they got a darker hue. You took hold of his hands before they would be too tempted to try and reach for you again.

“Go wash your hands, before you get blood over something else.” you told him.

With a nod he headed off to do exactly that. Percival shook his head, clearly biting his tongue to not voice his opinion on how the Ash Man had been foolish to stain your gown. It was Gawain who approached, took a rag from under his sword belt and poured some water over it with his flask. The knight went ahead and tried to get the stains out, muttering about Lancelot’s tendency to act before thinking.

        The location for the ceremony was chosen to be by the fire pit, as per Merlin’s idea. The magician found it fitting for the Ash Folk to unite themselves by the ancient fires. So you stood before the flames, opposite of Lancelot, hands in his. He must have sensed how overwhelming it felt for you and gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

Those present were Red Spear along with some of her crew. Merlin, Gawain who stood beside Kaze. Arthur who was trying to stand a little closer to Red Spear. Gareth, and Pym who stood a few steps away with Percival at her side.

Lancelot’s cloak complimented the one upon your shoulders and made you wonder if Arthur had helped him choose it too.

Merlin stepped forward. In his hand a long woven string of dried purple flowers, that somehow still smelled heavenly, and was woven together with a long piece of blue ribbon.

He used it to bind your and Lancelot’s hands together. “Bound by destiny, love and loyalty. Entwined as the roots of a tree, ever growing as the branches and flourishing as the leaves.”

It was odd how experiencing a true joining for the first time could bring you close to tears so quickly, but you refused to let them show out of worry that they may not be seen as the symbol of joy that they were. What you did notice was that even Lancelot appeared to have a similar response.

Merlin spoke to all, “We are here today to let this Ash Man and Ash Woman join together in life.” He turned to Lancelot. “If you wish to speak your vows to her, you may now do so.”

You felt the hands around yours tremble, saw the heavens in his eyes warn of rain. Baring his heart in front of the eyes of others like this was harder than he’d expected it to be. He needed a moment to compose himself and was too afraid of the reactions to ask for it.

“Can I start?” you asked him and Merlin with your sweetest smile.

The magician had noticed the Ash Man’s struggle to speak and understood why. “As you wish.”

You held Lancelot’s hands a little tighter and waited until he made eye-contact before you spoke, “The first time I learned that you were my husband, I thought it was the cruelest thing that had ever happened to me.”

Those present grew a little wary, sending each other questioning glances. Even Lancelot showed signs of oncoming panic.

You continued, letting those in the room breathe easy again. “But now I know better. I know that in my darkest days you brought me the light I never had. Now I can decide to say ‘yes’ to you, to choose you as I would have the first time if I had known then how wonderful you are. And this time I can say without reservation or deceit that I vow to love you.”

He stood before you, breathing shallower, his gaze glued to your own. After blinking a few times, he seemed to return from the place his thoughts had wandered off to.

He saw Merlin give an encouraging nod and found the courage to speak his own vow, “I will always regret how we began. I deceived you, today I vow to never do so again. I cannot erase the past but I will always try to right the wrong done to you. For long I had believed my heart to be cold, until I felt you ignite the fire inside of it. Love is an action, a privilege, a dedication to preserve what grows between us. I vow to cherish and hold your love for me as you do the same with mine.”

The tears were hard to hold back but you managed it. Red Spear glanced at Arthur but quickly snapped her eyes forward again when he nearly noticed it.

“Are they going to kiss again?” Percival sounded like the thought of it made him nauseous.

“Shhh!” Pym hushed him fast.

Merlin looked at you. “Will you still keep him as your husband?”

The answer was one without doubt, “I will.”

Then Merlin looked at Lancelot. “Will you keep her as your wife?”

He nodded eagerly before answering, “I will.”

Merlin looked to the small onlooking crowd. “If anyone objects to this joining, speak now.”

“Ahem.” Gareth broke the silence.

Lancelot’s hands tightened ever so little around your own. If your hands had not been bound, Gareth would have regretted that jesting behavior.

Gareth held back a smile upon seeing the glare of Gawain. “What? I’m just clearing my throat.”

By the looks of it, he’d be clearing his throat from Percival’s knife if he kept up the behavior. Under the pressure of the other stares, Gareth kept quiet.

Merlin addressed both you and Lancelot, “This part is much like a wedding of Manbloods. Seal this joining with a kiss when you are ready.”

Lancelot was clearly ready fast. Almost did you giggle at how politely he kissed now, so very proper in front of the others. Afterwards, Gawain came forth and took off the ribbon and flowers as Lancelot had asked of him.

“Can we feast now?” Percival got enthusiastic right away.

“Boy.” Gawain send a scolding look. That lasted until most of Red Spear’s crew began to react just as enthusiastic on Percival’s question.

Lancelot saw Gawain look at him for approval. He spoke to everyone, “Yes. Now we feast!”

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  The feast included all those present in the castle. For the celebration Gawain had allowed ale to be purchased from the village, along with all sorts of baked sweets and delicious food for all to indulge in. You were in the dining hall, enjoying the music some of the Fey decided to play whilst others happily ate from the food available. The first thing Percival did was stuff a lot of those baked sweets into his pockets and then went to store them in his room, Lancelot had seen but said nothing of it.

Arthur was sitting next to Red Spear, she often had a rare smile on her face when the Manblood was so close to her. Kaze was stabbing some meat on her own dagger and took a big bite of it, preferring not to seek out much conversation with the others as she enjoyed her meal. Pym had gone to dance with Gareth after he had asked her, she had stepped on his toes at least twice but he bravely continued. Merlin sat next to you, pouring himself another tankard of ale while offering to pour you one too, which you politely declined.

Gawain and Lancelot had gone outside the dining hall to discuss something the knight had noticed on the map. Even during the feast of a joining, duty still called upon them. A hand was suddenly near your face and you looked up to see one of Red’s crew.

“It’s your joining, come dance.” the man with a long beard said as he offered his hand to take.

You weren’t sure if it was a good idea. “I should wait for my husband.”

Merlin interfered, “It would be a shame if you would spend the evening of your joining sitting at the table whilst others danced.”

He must have seen how you had kept looking at those dancing and how fun it seemed to be. You did want to dance, it had been so terribly long since the last time.

“You’re right.” you told Merlin. Then turned to the man, “What’s your name?”

He smiled broadly when you placed your hand in his. “Drustan”

You got up from the chair. “I’d love to dance, Drustan.”

He walked with you to where others were dancing, at least it was no slow or intimate way of dancing but rather one that required quite a bit of pace. The dance was energetic and you had no idea that it would get you out of breath so fast, but it was just too much fun to stop. You spun around and around, watching the room flash by your eyes until your rear collided with someone.

“I kept you waiting.” Lancelot stated and swiftly put his hands on your hips, daring to pull you even closer.

Your cheeks felt close to burning when your back made contact with his groin. “I decided to dance while waiting for you to return.”

“I saw.” His hands skimmed over your hips. “You look so very beautiful tonight.”

You bit down a grin. “Just tonight?”

His breath was hot against your ear not a second later, speaking your name in a scolding manner. You leaned your head back against him, smiling at the way he proceeded to kiss the back of your head.

“Are you not too warm?” he wondered, having seen the fast way of dancing while you still wore that thick cloak.

It dawned on you just how warm the room was with the hearths heating it and the presence of everyone. “My cloak-”

He needed no further answer and took off your cloak, swallowing hard when seeing what it revealed underneath. You tilted your head a little to see why his breath had hitched. From his angle he had a perfect view right into the neckline of your gown. And he was unashamedly staring, not even having noticed that you were waiting for his eyes to return to yours. They returned only after you had softly pressed a kiss to his jaw. Flushed cheeks and the look in his eyes of a boy caught stealing a sweet. He took a moment to recollect his composure and put your cloak down over a chair nearby before returning to your side.

“Can you dance?” you whispered sweetly.

His voice wavered, “I can learn.”

You turned in his arms, taking his hands in yours. “Let’s see how good your footwork is without a sword in your hands.”

He took on that challenge, proving that great swordsmen were indeed good dancers. You taught him some simple dances and found out that he was quick to learn and follow the example from those around him.

    ~~~♡~~~♡~~~◇~~~♡~~~♡~~~

  After the long feast, that was still not at an end by the sounds of the singing in some areas of the castle, you returned to your room. It was late and even Lancelot appeared tired. It was quite lovely, that silence in the bedchamber as you both reminiscent about the night.

He was the first to speak, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You smiled as you walked to the wardrobe to grab your nightgown. “I really did. You?”

“Yes.” He took off his cloak and began to dress down, trying not to yawn too loudly.

“I have not seen you so tired in quite some time.” you pointed out.

“I was restless these past few days, often waking in the night. I wanted this day to be perfect.” he admitted.

“And it was.” You walked over to him, helping him take off his shirt even though he needed no aid.

He cupped your face, leaning in to brush his nose along yours. “Thank you for helping me to right this wrong. You could have said ‘no’.”

You let the tip of your nose graze over his. “I’d wed you a thousand times over.”

He succumbed to the desire to kiss you and let his lips caress yours slowly, tasting your bottom lip, the slow pace was heavenly. It came to an end when he broke away to yawn.

“Am I boring you?” you jested.

“Never.” he said apologetically.

Your hands glided over his shoulders to sooth that worry in him. “It’s alright. Go rest. I’ll just wash up and join you.”

He gave a grateful nod and went to lay down while you went to the washbasin. You saw him fall asleep mere seconds after his head touched the pillows, he must have been very tired indeed. You took off the gown and washed with no haste, joining him in the bed a while later after putting on your chemise. Quietly you got in, trying not to wake him. He still turned over behind you, as you laid on your side facing away from him, and put an arm around you. Slow and playfully you scooted back and bumped your rear into him, it only took doing it three times before he got as close as he could, his pelvis slightly pushing against your rear. What began playful, grew into more when you did not stop and his hips chased the feeling of you grinding up against him. You bit back a noise when feeling that familiar movement of his hips as they moved against you, and hearing the way his breathing got just a bit louder until it almost sounded like he was trying not to grunt. One calculated graze of your rear over his groin and you felt the result of your teasing poke you.

“Should I have let you sleep?” you felt a bit guilty over potentially ruining his sleep with this.

His husky voice slipped into your ear like silk, “Keep going.”

To empathize, he pulled your hip back just as he moved forward into you. You swallowed a sound at his growing confidence with intimacy, his boldness to take what he desired.

“I miss the heat of you.” He brushed his hand from your collarbone to your shoulder, hooking his thumb under the neck of the chemise to bare your shoulder, mouth locking on the bare skin there.

The confession shot arousal through your veins and it settled in your groin. You made your own confession in return, “I miss feeling you too.”

He held your hip in place and pushed his groin firm against you, letting you feel him well. Hushing the quiet yearning sound he could hear you try to muffle. “Shhh…”

When you kept brushing your rear against him, the hand on your hip moved to your stomach and glided up to curve over your breasts. He fondled both, softly kneading at them. His mouth tended to your shoulder before it moved to your neck.

There was no warning when he began to bundle up the skirt of the chemise, and he snaked his hand under it the second it was high enough up your thighs. He cupped you intimately, brushing his hand over you a few times before finally using two fingers to tease. The enthusiasm and patience he showed always made it near impossible to not plead for more. Often you were stubborn and tried to keep quiet for as long as you could, something he took as a challenge to arouse you so much it made you lose your inhibitions

There was no haste, no goal, just comfortable enjoyment. Him touching you, you tilting your head to kiss him with appreciation. Him gently sucking at the corner of your bottom lip, biting down and touching it briefly with his tongue. You reaching back to rub a hand over his groin….

Palming him through his trousers earned an appreciative sound from him. You grinned against his lips when feeling him harden further.

“Touch yourself.” you encouraged and collected his hand from between your legs. “Do it for me?”

He palmed himself in his trousers at the encouragement, it was helping him break through the mental barrier he had towards pleasuring himself

He knew he’d always hear the memory of your encouraging words speak to him now every time he’d lay a hand to himself.

Slowly he stroked himself, feeding his eyes with the view of you, especially when you pulled the neck down of the chemise some more. He moved the sheets and dropped his gaze lower, fixing it on your thighs still hidden mostly under the chemise. “Move your chemise up. Bare yourself more for me.”

That deepening of his voice was caused by his lust-filled state and enhanced your own, teasingly slow you moved the fabric up your thighs.

Then his lips were near your ear, offering you the praise for it. “My lovely wife…” A deep unsteady breath. “I want to sink myself into you, I want to feel you clench around me. You’re so beautiful when you’re enjoying me.” His breathing got even deeper. “The curve of your mouth as you moan…”

You grew restless, heated. “Lancelot…”

He slid his hand between your legs again, and with little effort his affections had results. “Wet already?”

You hated him for the smug comment, and hated how it still aroused you further. “Are you going to rile me up, or are you going to put your thoughts into action?”

He did not need more incentive than that, he freed his hardened self and drew you closer by the hips to slide himself between your thighs. “Hold me. I need you to-” he swallowed hard, “hold me just like this.”

You hummed with a smile, feeling the heat of him radiate against your inner thighs as you squeezed them together to hold him and let him use them for his pleasure. His eyes fell shut at the feeling it brought him, he gave your thigh a squeeze and slowly ground into you, feeling how your thighs held his hardened length well between them. His arm wrapped around to hold you close, gently you rocked against each other.

You felt him brush against your groin constantly, heard him quietly groan from pleasure. “Good?”

“I love your thighs.” It rumbled deep from within his throat. “I can feel you coat me with your wetness.”

He did so love them, the sight of them dripping with his seed from that night in the inn still often returned to his dreams and memories. Exploring ways of pleasure felt infinite, there was so much he had missed out on until now. Now you sweetly let him explore and guided him in the ways of desire.

You dared to request something. “Can you try to brush into me more?”

He was quick to honor that request and used a hand to angle himself. He rocked his hips into you and the tip of him grazed through the wetness and over the sensitive bundle of nerves. It provided enough friction to cause moans to tumble out of you.

After a while, you ground into him harder, a clear signal to him. He didn’t know if this would work, but wished for it to. He moved your knee up and forward toward your stomach then started to palm himself and teased over and through your wetness with his cock, it was coating him, preparing him for what you yearned for.

He teased your entrance with the tip of him. “Breathe.”

Slowly he brought himself inside, holding you by the hip as you moaned at the fullness he caused. He held your hip, rolling into you over and over again in a calm pace, keeping you against him as close as he could. He wasn’t fully thrusting, just letting these gentle movements build the desire up to a heated need. Hearing his stuttering breaths into your ear was highly stimulating. You held his arm around you, waving your fingers between his own and letting your body follow the moves of his. He ground into you slow and deep, and it wasn’t long before he uttered quiet praises in your ear when his mouth wasn’t too busy leaving a trail of wet kisses along your shoulder and jaw. It was so intimate that your body responded strongly, you felt yourself get so slick for him that it was almost embarrassing. He shifted his body a bit and it brought the feeling inside you to a whole other level. You let go of his hand and grabbed onto the pillow, squeezing it hard into your fist to keep a hold of yourself, pressing your face into it to muffle the way your breathing had changed so drastically. He was trying to get the noise out of you, pushing your hip to get you flatter on your stomach on the bed and almost putting himself on top completely.

He kept your hip pinned down. “You hold me so well…” Slid himself to the hilt inside. “Feels so good…”

It was almost too much and somehow not enough, the strength of him holding you down was sending another surge of arousal through your veins. By moving to be completely on your stomach, you granted him the control. The display of trust aroused him deeply, he throbbed once inside you. He supported himself on his elbow and let his hips drive himself into you over and over again, his hot breath right past your ear and behind it. His tongue darted out against your neck, tasting your skin until his lips enclosed the spot. He brought an arm around and lifted your hips just a little, his next thrusts made you gasp for air. Desperately you moaned, the tightening in your core sought it’s release.

“You are so beautiful like this.” he breathed into your ear.

You doubted you didn’t look like the absolute mess he made of you, and hid your face into the pillow.

When he could sense that you doubted he was truthful, he became bolder. “I want you to come undone on me, to feel you hold and consume me.”

It was affecting you greatly, there was no hiding your moans as they grew louder, the pillows were no match against the sound.

He loved it. He loved to feel and hear you experience such pleasure by him. You felt so very slick, moved so very eagerly with him. Dammit… he had the perfect wife under him. Sweet, clever, brave. Wet, moaning, calling upon him for release like he was a deity.

He got very bold, a hint of his ego slipping through with how aroused he felt, “I want to spill into you. I want to see you walk around tomorrow and know that some of me is still inside you.”

It made you so flustered to hear him voice his desires, even worse when he sank his hand between your legs and began to massage you intimately. You grew restless under him, hot by the sensations he caused.

“Do you want that?” he asked so very gently, his movements were slower and deep, “To feel my seed flow into you and feel what you do to me?”

Suddenly he stopped, halting all administrations. You were confused for a few seconds until realizing he was truly making you ask for it. “Don’t stop.”

He hummed, pressing a kiss to the back of your head, then the side.

“Please.” you added.

He slid forward slow and deep, pausing when he was inside completely. “You moan so good” His hand glided down along your back and took hold of your bottom, kneading at it gently but firm. “You’re behaving rather submissive tonight.”

The need for him was too strong to feel embarrassed. “Lancelot…”

His hand slid between your legs again, “Perhaps I should taste what I feel?”

It felt too good to change positions. “No, please don’t pull out.”

If only you could have seen the glistering of his eyes that it caused to hear you say that. He slowly began to thrust, too slowly on purpose. A deep low moan came out of him as his eyes fell shut for a moment. “You want me to stay like this?”

“Yes.” Desperation you had not felt before came over you, the feeling of him slowly thrusting and caressing was somehow incredible but also making you desperate for more. Almost as if you wanted to crawl away to avoid it’s further release depraving torment. He was purposely delaying both yours and his release, wanting to make this pleasure last as long as it could.

When he thrusted forward again, you moved forward to avoid the stimulation as it was slightly overwhelming. He noticed and heard the desperate noises fill your throat, the way your hands were gripping at the pillows as if to strangle them. He did not let you escape the pleasure he gave and simply held you in place.

“Lance-” you whimpered in despair at his stimulation.

“Shhh…” he hushed, sounding ridiculously patient considering how hard he was, “What do you want me to do?”

Your answer was without shame, too in need for finding completion. “Please, let me come undone.”

His hips rolled faster again. “More?”

“Please…” you pushed yourself up a little by the elbows, feeling the angle change to just how you needed it to be.

He broke through his restraint, thrusting himself inside with long strokes. Your release was close, and he gave your thigh a greedy squeeze, then did the same to your rear. The moans broke free of the chains you held them in, louder than you’d expected.

He smirked down at the sounds filling his ears and quickened his pace to bring you to your height. “There you are…”

Your body was getting overwhelmed and reflectively you moved forward, he kept you perfectly on his cock and as he sank himself inside again your release hit. Your body shuddered strongly as you whimpered at the sensation. He had stilled for a moment, letting you come down from the most of it first.

He slowly thrusted whilst you recovered, eager to continue. The resuming stimulation had you squirm under him. He had a hand on your hip to keep you where he needed, thrusting with long deep strokes, the squirming only encouraging him as he could hear the quiet gasps coming from you.

He had felt you squeeze around his cock, felt your body tense and release. Gods, he wanted to bury himself to the hilt inside and never let you go again. He never made the noises he did before now, the deep grunting came natural, it all came so natural now. He dared to hold your hip, hold you close so there was practically no separation when he thrusted. He remained buried deep inside, withdrawing barely before forwarding again. This was how he preferred you, as close as he could have you.

His stamina had grown since the day you had consummated the marriage, he had gained more control over his body’s reactions and he took full advantage of it to enjoy it all longer.

“Come here.” The smile on his face was heard in that purring of his voice. With an arm around you, he moved your hips up, his pace increased. “I will have you shuddering under me again before the sun touches our window.”

You were holding on to the pillow for dear life. He was close, you knew it by the way he was breathing and trembling.

You spoke some titillating things to push him to his peak, “How will you do that? Are you going to use your tongue on me?”

It thrilled him. He was nearly out of breath. “Amongst other things…”

“Your fingers?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to sink them into me?”

“Yes.” His breathing got harder. “Make… you want more…” He leaned in, resting his forehead against the side of your head, needing the connection.

“You’re so close.” you whispered. “Go on, let me feel how good you feel.”

The request had barely left your lips and he fulfilled it. A desperate grunt fled him. He twitched and pulsed, spilling himself inside. He thrusted lightly until it was over.

He wanted to thank you, the only thing stopping him was the fear of how it could come across. So he said it over and over again in his mind as it slowly returned to him and he pressed his lips to the back of your head and to your temple.

You shivered, suddenly aware of the cold chill in the room after sweating. Upon noticing it, he withdrew himself and moved the sheets over the both of you, tucking you in. Your mind was still trying to comprehend how your body could possibly feel this good. He cleared his throat, feeling how dry it had gotten from breathing through it. His breathing steadied and he made you roll over to face him. He couldn’t resist reaching down to feel the result of this coupling between your legs. Your hand flew to his upper arm upon feeling it, your body still too sensitive.

The mixture of bodily fluids coated his fingers. He was yours and you were his, claimed once again by carnal need. Your skin glowed, the sweet small smile curled your lips, it was the perfect compliment.

He wiped his hand clean on the sheet and then cupped your neck to steal a kiss once more. He stole another. “I love how you are now…”

You smiled against his lips, at how he so craved the closeness. In battle stoic and cold, but here?

Your thumb pushed on his bottom lip, quickly covering his top lip too when he parted from your mouth. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.”

A mischievous smile grew upon his lips as he spoke against your thumb. “We still have a long night ahead of us if you wish to feel even better.”

You rested your forehead against his. “I meant my mind. But I must admit that my body does share the same feeling.”

“You are happy?” he brushed a hand over your head.

“I am.” you admitted. “And you? Have you come to accept this place as our home?”

“No.” he said. “My home is where you are. This place is just what keeps us warm against the snow.”

It was true. Anywhere could feel like home when around those one felt most welcome with. You moved closer to him, nesting into his chest to bathe in his warmth.

“I love you.” you breathed out against his skin.

He brought his arm around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I you, Little Ember.”

This was home, this feeling when in his arms, the beginning of a life filled with a love neither of you thought existed until now. And no matter what the future would bring, together nothing could stop you. Together you would build a home in the castle that held the history of the Ash Folk.

And now it held it’s future too.

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[sforzesco]

What do you mean when you say that Pompey is a lover in a story of inescapable violence? I am extremely intrigued

the Late Republic is a stage of violence intent on gorging itself on this violence, the structure of the system leaves no other outcome.

Pompey is both someone born into this cycle and someone who is an acting hand of violence. He fashions himself after a military ideal, Alexander the Great, he positions himself as Sulla’s successor in the arena of political spectacle (rising/setting sun), he is Rome’s conquering hand.

He’s also, in Plutarch’s biography, intensely aware of matters of love and romance and does not treat them as an idle and casual affair. It is, in some way, an inherent part of his character. He is the ideal of a husband, even if it conflicts with whatever other ideals he’s supposed to embody, and apparently trades in his role as a general to remain in Rome with his wife.

We are told that Flora the courtesan, when she was now quite old, always took delight in telling about her former intimacy with Pompey, saying that she never left his embraces without bearing the marks of his teeth. Furthermore, Flora would tell how Geminius, one of Pompey's companions, fell in love with her and annoyed her greatly by his attentions; and when she declared that she could not consent to his wishes because of Pompey, Geminius laid the matter before Pompey. Pompey, accordingly, turned her over to Geminius, but never afterwards had any thing at all to do with her himself, although he was thought to be enamoured of her; and she herself did not take this treatment as a mere courtesan would, but was sick for a long time with grief and longing. (…) Moreover, Pompey also treated the wife of Demetrius his freedman (who had the greatest influence with him and left an estate of four thousand talents) with a lack of courtesy and generosity unusual in him, fearing lest men should think him conquered by her beauty, which was irresistible and far-famed. But though he was so extremely cautious in such matters and on his guard, still he could not escape the censures of his enemies on this head, but was accused of illicit relations with married women, to gratify whom, it was said, he neglected and betrayed many public interests.

Plut. Pomp. 2

All this won him admiration and affection; but on the other hand he incurred a corresponding displeasure, because he handed over his provinces and his armies to legates who were his friends, while he himself spent his time with his wife among the pleasure-places of Italy, going from one to another, either because he loved her, or because she loved him so that he could not bear to leave her; for this reason too is given. Indeed, the fondness of the young woman for her husband was notorious, although the mature age of Pompey did not invite such devotion. The reason for it, however, seems to have lain in the chaste restraint of her husband, who knew only his wedded wife, and in the dignity of his manners, which were not severe, but full of grace, and especially attractive to women, as even Flora the courtesan may be allowed to testify.

Plut. Pomp. 53

Nevertheless, the marriage was displeasing to some on account of the disparity in years; for Cornelia's youth made her a fitter match for a son of Pompey. 3 Those, too, who were more critical, considered that Pompey was neglect­ful of the unhappy condition of the city, which had chosen him as her physician and put herself in his sole charge; whereas he was decking himself with garlands and celebrating nuptials, though he ought to have regarded his very consul­ship as a calamity, since it would not have been given him in such an illegal manner had his country been prosperous.

Plut. Pomp. 55

The messenger, finding her in this mood, could not bring himself to salute her, but indicated to her the most and greatest of his misfortunes by his tears rather than by his speech, and merely bade her hasten if she had any wish to see Pompey with one ship only, and that not his own. When she heard this, she cast herself upon the ground and lay there a long time bereft of sense and speech. At last, however, and with difficulty, she regained her senses, and perceiving that the occasion was not one for tears and lamentations, she ran out through the city to the sea. Pompey met her and caught her in his arms as she tottered and was falling. "I see thee," she cried, "husband, not by thy fortune, but by mine, reduced to one small vessel, thou who before thy marriage with Cornelia didst sail this sea with five hundred ships. Why hast thou come to see me, and why didst thou not leave to her cruel destiny one who has infected thee also with an evil fortune so great? What a happy woman I had been if I had died before hearing that Publius, whose virgin bride I was, was slain among the Parthians! And how wise if, even after his death, as I essayed to do, I had put an end to my own life! But I was spared, it seems, to bring ruin also upon Pompey the Great."

So spake Cornelia, as we are told, and Pompey answered, saying: "It is true, Cornelia, thou hast known but one fortune to be mine, the better one, and this has perhaps deceived thee too, as well as me, in that it remained with me longer than is customary. But this reverse also we must bear, since we are mortals, and we must still put fortune to the test. For I can have some hope of rising again from this low estate to my former high estate, since I fell from that to this.”

Plut. Pomp. 74-75

I have some vague thought in here about how Pompey was entrusted with Rome’s safety, and that conflicts with his Lover status because you can’t love something more than Rome without Rome deciding to cast you out, and it also prevents him from reclaiming his Soldier role in the ensuing war with Caesar. Doomed by Rome, doomed by Love, doomed by Fortune, etc. but also simply the inevitable cycle of war and violence, the ever turning wheel of Rome.