#so its just!!! she will always remind him he's not a burden and he never is a burden

[just-jordie-things]

let the light in - ryomen sukuna

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

The second thought was- what the fuck? 

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re serious?” 

Megumi nods, the thin line of his lips unwavering.

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost worse.

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t-” 

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

“Just missed lookin’ at you, sweetheart” 

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

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

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

“I- I don’t-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

Not her.

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

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

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

“What the fuck are you doing out?” 

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

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

“And what happened to-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Humor me for a moment, (y/n)” 

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

“Why do you ask?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You must have me confused, then” 

Her words are clear and concise without being loud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you think?” 

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

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

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

“What is it that you want, Sukuna?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s no greater curse I could bear” 

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

“Does it get old?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

Not this, however.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Sukuna.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S- Sukuna-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sukuna saved my life” 

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

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

“Yu-! Sukuna?” 

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

“You can’t just walk in here” 

“I knocked” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you think he’ll be… upset?” 

“With you?” 

She nods.

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

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

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

“Boundaries?”

“Yes, boundaries.  He almost kissed you” 

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

“What? What are you even talking about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So we have been married?” 

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

“We have” He answers.

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

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

He smirks.

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

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

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

Sukuna hums, before shaking his head.

“You never change” 

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

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

“You really want to know?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sukuna hums, and nods his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, good,” She whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Sukuna” 

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

“Goodnight, my love” 

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everything’s blurry when she first comes to.

And everything hurts.

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

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

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

Yuji?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She should be afraid, but she’s not.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

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

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

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

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

[peachdues]

THE WIND AND MOON

PROLOGUE ♢ SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA X LUNAR PILLAR!READER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The day her world ended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So he had. 

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

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

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

Her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They hadn’t been able to protect them. 

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

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

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

“Heavens above,” the Flame Hashira whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She is around eighteen, Lord Rengoku!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was no older than ten. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The thought made his blood run cold.

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

He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing.

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

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

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

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

Cruelty; utter cruelty, and a damn tragedy.

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

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

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

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

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

Almost as if-

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

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

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

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

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

He fell silent for a moment, contemplating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Defiance. 

Pain. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And to her, they were another threat.

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

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

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

COMMENTS/LIKES/REBLOGS ALWAYS APPRECIATED!

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kn y smut #demon slayer smut #shinazugawa sanemi #demon slayer fic #demon slayer fanfic

[cynosfunnyjokes]

A Heart’s A Heavy Burden

Characters: Howl x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warning: None that I can think of.

Summary: Loving Howl Pendragon isn’t easy.

Word Count: 827

Summary: Not really edited or anything- I’m sure there’s mistakes all throughout but I wrote this while watching Howl’s Moving Castle for the umpteenth time lmao. No pronouns are used for the reader!

Apprenticing under Howl was such a joy- never was there a dull moment. He would brighten up the room with his smile- his laugh. It was so contagious that you and Markl couldn't fight the grins growing on your own faces.

Meeting Howl on its own was nothing but luck- you had found yourself in some trouble with the guards, their stupid remarks making you nothing but uncomfortable- and then poof, a stranger was there, whisking you away.

How strange that the random man was Howl himself- a well-known sorcerer and someone you looked up to. Of course, you nervously asked him to take you on as an apprentice, eagerly telling him about your interest in magic since you were young.

He simply laughed, smiling that bright smile everyone adored, and simply agreed to take you in.

All went well- he was a great teacher after all. Even with him being gone at random times throughout the day, you had Markl to spend time with to practice. And then there was Calcifer and his witty remarks. They never bothered you, simply jokingly throwing one back at him.

It didn't take long for feelings to grow for the mysterious sorcerer- everyone noticed it but Howl himself. Not that it was surprising.

Even Calfcifer noticed but never said about it, unlike Markl who made random remarks during the day in whispers, causing you to hide your face while the blush crept up to your ears.

Although one day, while cleaning up the firepit during the time Howl was away, Calficer clicked his tongue at you.

Raising an eyebrow, you turned your head to the burning ball of fire in front of you, silently asking him “what?”

“You really do love him, don't you?”

It was so sudden, it felt so random-

But that’s all he said. That's all he needed to say.

You were undeniably in love with Howl, and you could only hope the feelings were reciprocated. Maybe, just maybe they were.

All hope went down the drain the moment Sophie showed up. Suddenly, Howl wasn't around as much anymore- and when he was, he was with her.

It was always her. Sophie this, Sophie that.

Slowly, the feelings of sadness crept in, their sharp nails jabbing into your heart.

Is this what heartbreak felt like?

Eventually, you stopped leaving your room- opting to just study the days away instead of focusing on the pain residing in your heart.

Markl would stop by to check on you, dropping off food that would stay nothing but untouched, slowly growing cold as time passed.

Even though you appreciated Markl’s company, it didn't help that he often talked about Sophie- how cool she was. All this, all that.

It was all too much.

Howl never stopped in to talk- to check on you. Not that you expected him to. He was his own person who had his own things to do. He was a busy man after all. But still, you found yourself clinging to that hope- just to have it crushed.

Eventually, even Markl stopped popping in, choosing to set the food down on your table before retreating to Sophie.

It was fine. It was all fine. That's what you always told yourself.

But yet... Why did it hurt so much?

Pressing shaking hands against your tear-filled eyes, the only sound that could be heard was small sobs that you were trying oh so hard to muffle.

It was so unfair.

You wanted him to look at you like he does her. To experience the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, to feel his loving gaze.

But that would never happen.

There wasn't much point in staying there anymore- you refused to leave your room unless it was to quickly run to the bathroom, refused to even leave your bed unless it was necessary.

What was the point of staying there? Where the reminder of your unrequited love stayed?

It was raining outside, the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the window helping drown out any sounds that escaped you.

Bag in hand that was full of a few necessities and a small photo of you and Howl, you stopped to stare at Howl’s bedroom door for a minute.

Loving him hurt- but it wasn't something you regretted. If only things were different, maybe it would've been better. Such a false sense of hope.

Howl seemed happier with Sophie- even Calcifer and Markl were happier.

You weren't needed anymore.

So without a single thought, you turned on your heels and climbed out the hallway window to avoid Calcifer knowing.

Landing on the muddy ground below with a let thump, you looked at what used to be your home one last time, thoughts racing a thousand miles per second. You didn't want to stay and be reminded of how much happier everyone was without you.

So you left, the rain being your only company as you sobbed into the night.

#howl pendragon #howl’s moving castle #fanfiction #fanfic #howl x reader #howl x sophie #unrequited love #angst #cynosfunnyjokes writes #sophie hatter #calcifer #studio ghibli #howl pendragon x reader #non binary reader #fanfiction writer #angst fanfic #sunny needs to stop writing angst- #oneshot #short fiction

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! ( + non-chrono link for app users )

“Um, yeah,” Billy says, still internally cringing at himself. “Just–not just the bare minimum, I mean? Like–other things too. Books and games and snacks and . . . whatever you think’s fun, or whatever you want to learn about, or whatever.” 

He’s definitely been in “homes” that didn’t give him things like that. He doesn’t want Lynn to feel like . . . a burden, or a problem, or just unimportant and unwanted like that, so . . . yeah, he’s definitely gonna get him things that aren’t just the bare minimum. As many of those things as he can, he thinks. 

Batman gave them so much money, and that’s not even counting the stipend. Billy can definitely afford to give Lynn the kind of stuff none of his foster families wanted to give him. So, like–he’s gonna, obviously. 

Of course he’s gonna. 

Lynn ducks his head a little, then swallows uncomfortably. Billy resists the urge to nudge Tawky towards him again. He wonders if he could just, like . . . offer Lynn a hug, maybe? Maybe that’d be okay? 

Or maybe it’d be weird and pushy, or maybe stupid, or maybe just make Lynn feel uncomfortable. They’ve never met before today and they’ve barely spent any time together at all, and Billy doesn’t want to be the type of foster parent who demands a relationship that just isn’t there, even if he’s . . . well, not really just a foster parent, he hopes. But those fosters just always made him feel like they were more interested in getting attention and looking good to strangers than anything about him. 

He wants Lynn to feel like he’s interested in him–wants Lynn to know he’s interested in him, and cares about him, and isn’t gonna ignore him or hate him if he doesn’t follow some stupid script he’s got in his head of how he “should” be. 

He definitely wants that. 

“It’s okay if you don’t know what you think’s fun yet,” he tries, hoping he’s not assuming too much. “It’s probably kinda overwhelming, with, um . . . literally everything happening all at once and your whole life getting turned on its head, um . . . basically five minutes after it really started, so . . .” 

“I was alive before I woke up,” Lynn says, a little stilted. “I–saw things. Learned things.” 

“Things about yourself, or about how Cadmus wanted you to be?” Billy asks. 

Lynn–pauses. Frowns. 

“. . . um,” he says. “I . . . don’t know.” 

Billy is pretty sure Cadmus just sucks, actually. Like. A lot. 

“Okay,” he says. “Well, that’s okay too. You can take your time figuring it out. There’s no rush or anything.” 

“Superman won’t like me if I don’t figure it out,” Lynn says, his frown deepening. “If I’m not–useful.” 

. . . okay, Billy thinks. Cadmus really sucks, actually. 

“Superman doesn’t care about people being useful,” he says firmly. “That’s like, the last thing Superman cares about. He just likes people for who they are.” 

“. . . who I am is . . . fake, though,” Lynn says, his eyes slanting away. “It’s–programmed.” 

“So?” Billy asks, reminding himself superheroes don’t burn down weird basement labs outside of extenuating circumstances. And anyway, the sidekicks already messed Cadmus up pretty bad as it was. “Lots of people get programmed. Red Tornado’s programmed, and he’s really nice. And Wonder Woman got made out of clay as a little kid, so she got, like, magic programming. Like, to be her ‘age’, you know?” 

Lynn . . . blinks, slowly, and then glances back at him. 

“You really think that?” he asks. Billy’s a little confused by the question. He doesn’t think it; he knows it. 

“I mean, yeah?” he says. “I just mean–it doesn’t make you fake. That’s all. Especially ‘cuz you can, you know . . . learn stuff yourself, if you wanna. You don’t have to just stay the way you got taught to be.” 

Lynn stares at him for a long, silent moment, then looks down at the table again. 

“How long have you had–uh, Uncle Tawky?” he asks, abrupt and obviously trying to change the subject. That’s fine, Billy thinks; he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. And Lynn’s gotta learn how to do that kind of thing anyway, so it’s good practice for more complicated conversations, he figures. 

“Since I was ten,” he says. “He came from India! I met him in Fawcett, though, and he’s been my best friend ever since! He’s really great. And a respectable gentleman, so you don’t need to be scared of him or anything. I mean, I don’t know if you’re scared of tigers or not? Because probably you’re tiger-proof? Like–normally, I mean. But yeah.” 

“. . . I’m not scared of tigers,” Lynn says, looking a little bewildered, for some reason. Billy beams at him. 

“Great!” he says happily. Tawky could probably hurt Lynn, since he’s magic too, but he obviously wouldn’t, so he’s just . . . not gonna draw attention to that right now, obviously. That wouldn’t make Lynn feel very safe, he’s pretty sure. 

But Tawky could also probably stop Lynn if he got mind-controlled, so . . . maybe it would make him feel safer? Billy’s not sure, actually. 

. . . hm. Yeah, he needs to figure that out. 

“. . . you’ve really had him since you were ten?” Lynn asks, looking–hesitant, now. Billy doesn’t know why, but nods. 

“Yup!” he says. “He’s the best.” 

“. . . are you sure you want me to have him?” Lynn asks, still looking hesitant. 

“Yeah!” Billy confirms cheerfully. “Tawky’s the best! He’ll protect you. And keep you from having bad dreams, too.” Tawky’s really good at eating nightmares, so yeah, Lynn won’t have to worry about bad dreams at all. 

“Uh,” Lynn says, then very gingerly reaches over and picks up Tawky, and then sets him in his lap with a weird look on his face. He looks a little–emotional, maybe? At least for him, anyway. He’s not very expressive, so far. “Um. Okay.” 

Billy just beams at him again. He’s really glad they like each other. 

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says as he looks down at Tawky, voice a little abrupt again. “Um–Dad."

#cheshire #wip: billy adopts conner and it actually goes pretty good!

[dewdropdinosaur]

Rubber Ducky, You're the One

LUCIFER X READER

Summary: Lucifer has had a hell of a week, no pun intended. But you know just what he needs to relax.

Warnings: Implied nakedness, cussing. Rating: PG-13

For the wonderful @anon-of-the-void

REQUESTS OPEN

In the depths of Hell, amidst the chaos and cacophony of damned souls, Lucifer Morningstar, the charismatic and somewhat prideful King of Hell, found himself buried under the weight of his responsibilities. Yes, the King did actually work despite his duck inventing hyper focus. From managing the unruly demons to negotiating with powerful overlords and complaints from citizens, his days were consumed by the ceaseless demands of ruling the underworld. And as if that wasn't enough, the relentless manifestations of the seven deadly sins only added to his burdens(Mammon is a right pain in the arse) 

Each day seemed to blend into the next, the weight of his crown growing heavier with every passing moment. Despite his unparalleled charm and wit, even Lucifer had his limits.

One particularly exhausting day, Lucifer trudged back to his imposing castle, his shoulders slumped with weariness. His mind buzzed with the endless tasks that awaited him, and his steps echoed with the weight of his concerns. The grand halls of his fortress felt suffocating, the shadows whispering reminders of his never-ending duties. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his usually vibrant demeanor dulled by the weight of his burdens.

As he entered his private chambers, he took off his top hat and sat his cane to prop against the adjacent wall. Walking to his desk and plopping down on the plush office chair, he groaned into his hands and buried his head in them. 

Only when the small creak of his door sounded did he look up after what felt like hours. He was met with a sight that momentarily lifted the heavy veil of stress from his soul. There, amidst the dim glow of flickering candles, stood his beloved Y/N, radiant and serene, a gentle smile gracing her lips. They had been together for quite some time - the Hellish monarch getting a second chance at love despite thinking that the time for him was long passed. 

"Welcome home, ducky," she greeted him, her voice like a soothing melody amidst the chaos of Hell.

Lucifer's heart swelled with warmth at the sight of her. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/N was his beacon of light, his solace in the storm.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice softened by the tenderness that enveloped him in her presence despite his tiredness still coming through.

"What are you doing here?"

Y/N stepped forward, her gaze unwavering as she reached out to take his hand. "I could tell you needed a break," she replied, her touch gentle yet reassuring. "And so, I thought I might help if you’ll allow me?"

“No, no darling. I’m alright.”

“Bullshit Luci.”

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“I know but I choose to. Nothing in return is needed - I just want to dote on you.”

With a gentle tug, to which he did not fight against due to his weakened state, she led him to the grand marble bath that awaited them; its waters shimmering invitingly in the soft glow of candlelight. The sight of it stirred a sense of longing within Lucifer, a longing for respite, for a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Wordlessly, Y/N began to undress him, her movements tender and deliberate. She stripped away the layers of his regal attire, each garment a symbol of the responsibilities he bore. And with each piece that fell away, Lucifer felt a weight lift from his soul, leaving him feeling vulnerable yet liberated in her presence. Y/N never failed to make the prideful demon shiver. Despite being the harbinger of sin himself, Lucifer always faltered under to gaze - making him feel so small in the best way. Like she could envelop him in her warm embrace and the world would all be alright; that he could be taken care of without fault or repayment(something he never felt with Lillith)

Once he was disrobed, Y/N guided him into the warm embrace of the bubbling waters, the scent of lavender and jasmine enveloping them both. With a soft sigh of contentment, Lucifer sank into the soothing depths, his muscles relaxing beneath the gentle caress of the water.

There, amidst the flickering candlelight, she began to test the water of the luxurious bubble bath with her finger, the scents filling the air with soothing lavender. And as he slipped into the steaming bath, surrounded by a frothy sea of bubbles, he felt the tension in his muscles melt away.

Y/N knelt beside the bath, a soft cloth in hand as she began to wash away the grime and tension that clung to his weary form. Her touch was firm, her hands moving with practiced care as she tended to him with unwavering devotion.

As she worked, Lucifer felt the knots of tension begin to unravel, his mind drifting into a state of blissful tranquility. In that moment, there was only the soothing warmth of the water, the gentle ministrations of Y/N, and the overwhelming sense of peace that washed over him like a cleansing tide. As Lucifer sank deeper into the soothing bubbles, he couldn't help but notice a playful glint in Y/N's eyes as she reached for something hidden behind her back.

"Darling," she said with a mischievous grin, "I have a surprise for you."

Intrigued, Lucifer raised an eyebrow as Y/N produced a bright yellow rubber ducky from behind her back, its cheery expression contrasting with the dark ambiance of the bath.

"A rubber ducky?" Lucifer chuckled, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "You never cease to amaze me, my dear."

Y/N giggled as she plopped the rubber ducky into the bathwater, its buoyant figure bobbing amidst the bubbles. "I thought it might lighten the mood," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Lucifer couldn't help but laugh as he reached out to retrieve the rubber ducky, holding it aloft with a sense of childlike wonder. "Well, I must say, it's a rather dashing addition to our bath time routine."

With a playful grin, Y/N leaned forward to gently boop the rubber ducky on the nose, causing it to squeak in protest. The sound echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, filling the room with a sense of whimsy.

As the evening wore on and the bathwater cooled, Lucifer and Y/N reluctantly emerged from the luxurious depths of their tub. Wrapped in plush towels, they made their way to the cozy confines of their living room, where a crackling fire danced merrily in the hearth.

With a contented sigh, Lucifer settled onto the plush couch, pulling Y/N into his arms as they nestled together beneath a soft blanket. The warmth of the fire enveloped them, casting a soft glow upon their entwined forms.

"Tonight was exactly what I needed," Lucifer murmured, pressing a tender kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Thank you, my love."

Y/N smiled sleepily, her eyes drifting closed as she snuggled closer to him. "Anytime, darling. I'm always here for you."

#romance #hazbin hotel fandom #answered #vizziepop #radio killed the video star #request #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer imagine #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #fluff #lucifer fluff #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss ozzie #overlords hazbin hotel #take that depression #rubber duck #duckies #lucifer duck #lucifer demon form #call me mommy #tooth rotting fluff #hazbin hotel lucifer

[shadowshrike]

Astarion on Halsin Leaving

I can't stop thinking about Astarion's lines when Halsin chooses to leave your party, so have a fun mini-analysis. Note that this text is pulled via datamining because I don't have all the appropriate saves atm. Since the context of your personal story is everything in this game and can wildly change how lines come across, please take my thoughts here as a fun exercise with the text and nothing more.

I think the things that are needed to fully understand where my head is at regarding his lines are two fold:

1. How Astarion talks about other companions leaving

Shadowheart and Wyll can both also leave in Act 2. His responses are as follows.

Astarion: I don't see what Shadowheart got so upset about - it was not that nice of a temple.

For Shadowheart he gently deflects the crux of the matter. This isn't surprising because he is a master of minimizing other people's grievances when he thinks they're legitimate but inconvenient. Otherwise, he responds fairly mildly.

Astarion: So, that's how the legend ends. The Blade of Frontiers, cast down to the Hells. Hardly a fitting ending. But so few are.

Unlike Shadowheart, Wyll is forced to leave by being dragged to the hells. There's no justification he needs to rebuff for Wyll leaving the party's side, so instead, he uses it to double down on his philosophy that 'nice guys finish last and the world is a dangerous and horrible place.' Which, ironically, is not entirely unreasonable given the circumstances.

2. How other companions talk about Halsin leaving

The Good companions don't blame Halsin for leaving. Wyll even blames himself for not doing enough. Karlach also regrets the loss of another strong person around, reminding us once again that Halsin is physically imposing in the narrative, even if the stats say otherwise because of how D&D balance works.

Gale: Druids will always follow nature's purpose over any mortal threat. Halsin goes where he is needed, as must we.

Jaheira: Halsin long urged the Harpers not to abandon this land to the curse. I cannot blame him, for being unable to bear it a second time.

Wyll: I can't blame Halsin for leaving. We could have, should have, done more for him and for the cursed lands. They may never again feel the breathe of life on them. What a shame.

Karlach: Pity about Halsin. I was getting used to having an extra Strong around. He smelled nice, too. Like outside.

(Fun fact regarding Karlch's comment: Astarion has a line where he refers to Halsin as "musky bear-fellow" - musky is also the word used to describe the attractive smell of corpse flowers - and Halsin's underwear smells like an herb garden according to its flavor text. Apparently, the guy canonically smells really good?)

Even Shar Path Shadowheart expresses regret in losing Halsin. Not because she wants to end the Shadow Curse, but because Halsin's nice to look at.

Shadowheart: This land remains cloaked by Lady Shar's power - good. A shame it cost us Halsin as a travelling companion though. He may have been misguided, but I liked looking at him.

That brings us to...

Astarion's tantrum over Halsin leaving

Go ahead and listen to it yourself first, and then I'll dive into both lines.

Astarion: Just like that hulking bear to stomp off in a huff. I swear, druids care more about the plants of this land than the people.

"Just like that hulking bear to stomp off in a huff."

This first statement is not only indignant and deflecting, it's so factually false that it's laughable. Halsin is always calm and regretful when staying behind no matter how you treat him.

Player: You have to come - I need you. Halsin: This place needs me. I wish it were different - I truly do. As long as the curse remains, so must I.

Player: Do as you wish. Halsin: This isn't what I wish. It's simply the way it has to be - I'm sorry.

Player: The shadow curse was always your burden - not mine. Halsin: Yes, and so it must remain. I wish you success on your path. Had things been different, I might have walked it with you.

Player: Perhaps we can still do something to lift the curse. Halsin: No. If you linger, you'll only jeopardise your own mission. This is my burden alone now until either the curse is lifted, or I breathe my last.

Halsin is renowned for letting people treat him horribly and taking it on the chin. Him pushing back is usually related to calmly setting boundaries or expectations. The only times I can think of offhand where he raises his voice in anger is with Kagha, if you interfere with the portal, and briefly after certain parts of the Evil companion routes, though not as intensely (I might do a write-up on that later because his reactions are interesting). He certainly never "stomp[s] off in a huff", and he's not doing it now either.

However, the way this is worded gives me pause. Because "just like [him]" said so angrily gives the impression that Halsin has reacted this way to Astarion before. Given Astarion's habit of rewriting exactly how events went down to absolve himself of accountability, it makes me wonder if Astarion's tried to get a rise out of Halsin in camp and been shut down. Since Halsin is the only Good companion at that point who is also old and worldly enough to not get flustered by Astarion's cruelty, mind games, and flirting, it wouldn't surprise me if Astarion has built up resentment. Halsin refuses to be manipulated or confirm Astarion's cynical worldview, and Astarion isn't ready to consider changing his mind with Cazador on the horizon.

"I swear, druids care more about the plants of this land than the people."

This is, again, a false statement wrapped in a little more truth than the first. Druids are indeed infamous for putting nature above humans (see: Shadow Druids), and Halsin talks a big game about Balance and Nature. However, Halsin is probably the most people-oriented traditional druid we see in the game, going so far as to cause chaos in his grove by aggressively taking in refugees and personally traveling with an undead and servant of Shar because they need help. He chooses people over Silvanus' classic teachings so often that it's fascinating.

That aside, given what the shadow-cursed lands are doing to anyone on the way to Baldur's Gate, choosing to stay and attempt to lift the curse is hardly serving plants over people - the Absolute and the Shadow Curse are both significant threats to people. What Halsin is doing, however, is prioritizing his own problems over those of Astarion. He's setting aside the tadpole cause, not because he's selfish or duplicitous, but because he's not willing to abandon the other people he swore to help a century ago and has obsessed over ever since.

Some fun implications

Given all this information, there are many interesting ways to read Astarion's language beyond a surface "he hates Halsin and/or druids" level (gotta love his charlatan background making almost every line capable of ambiguity). Some personal favorite interpretations of his feelings:

Begrudging affection towards Halsin. Astarion has no reason to get so angry and make such absurd statements if he didn't want Halsin to stay. He certainly didn't make such a big fuss about other companions. However, since Astarion isn't in an emotional place to be able to consider Halsin's worldview seriously now that he's staring down Cazador, that admiration gets bungled into a "well screw you, I didn't like you anyway" attitude, much like how he handles some partner breakups.

Resentment and fear of being left behind or rejected. Astarion is selfish. He's been fairly consistent that he doesn't want to help others, but he also hates when no one helps him. That self-fulfilling prophecy is a rather large part of how he moves through (un)life and can easily continue through Act III depending on whether your dialog choices give him an opportunity to express it. Seeing a good person that he truly believes is good choosing something else over him makes the 'truth' of this cynical, self-centered worldview sting harder, especially as he is at his most vulnerable heading into Baldur's Gate.

Guilt for not doing more. Halsin has been clear about his priorities from the start. He's one of the most straightforward, reasonable communicators in the whole game. That means Astarion knew he would leave if the Shadow Curse wasn't lifted, especially since Halsin doesn't have a tadpole and, therefore, has no reason to risk his life for them. Since Astarion is almost universally unwilling to take blame for his own actions or inactions, he's trying to push the responsibility onto Halsin by painting him as unreasonable for following through on his stated priorities rather than let himself feel bad about not helping Halsin.

I'm sure there are even more readings you can think of, too. Hats off to this hidden bit of dialogue, the incredible delivery, and how much depth it brings to a relationship which is easy to ignore.

#halsin #astarion #halstarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

[nekokoaa]

The Agreement - Miguel O'Hara x Therapist!Reader (III)

Summary: It was simple. No kissing. No sex. Hugs and hand-holding only. The goal was to help Miguel feel a little less lonely sometimes. That was your job as one of the therapists at HQ, to mentally stabilize everyone’s mind, including the boss’s.

In other words, you and Miguel make a deal.

Rated Explicit, fluff, smut

4K words | (3/5) chapters

Chapters:

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V)

Author's notes: I work as a freelance copywriter so I had to prioritize my projects but I still managed to get this done! Enjoy! :) Let me know if you want to be a part of the tag list.

Also on AO3

III.

Sometimes you wish you were mindless—just a rusty cog of a machine in a 9 to 5 corporate job. Simply, a taciturn sheep led by a shepherd, waiting for the day a butcher’s knife is pressed against its neck. It was easier to handle life in such a way. Regrets can never be born when allied with carelessness.

But it was something beyond you. Clearly. The throes of passion had tempted you that night. His hand on your hip firmly held you in place, fingers pressed into your suit. Covetous crimson eyes searched between your eyes and lips long enough that the sweat of your skin gathered at your clavicles. But you managed to resist his heat, disappointing, yes, but at least you still had your dignity—your morals. If it wasn’t for that, you might’ve been in his bed that night, rocking your hips against his without a single care in the world.

Three weeks had passed by and you haven’t had a session with him since that night. You were canceling them in hopes that the fire between you fizzles. With distance, desire usually fades so you only hoped that night was just your hormones acting up and there wasn’t a deeper meaning to how you felt.

Between that time, you had the opportunity to meet Gwen Stacy from 65. She was a nice girl, cool, and very much like all of you. Burdened with the sense of justice with a side of wittiness.

She was popular, especially among the Peters who had lost their Gwens. They looked at her like she was a what-if moment and were impressed by her, but you knew you’ll be seeing them on your office couch soon enough.

Hobie was practically best friends with her now. The late night sessions with Hobie were a rare occurrence these days. Like a stray, he found a new person to feed his interests.

Jess favored her the most. Reminded her of her younger days, and how impressive she was at that age—still is, as she’s been carrying a baby in her stomach while doing her missions flawlessly.

Miguel was indifferent. At least that’s how he acted. But as long as work was getting done, you were leveling up the relationship bar with him.

Out of everyone, Peter B was home to her. To see a familiar face amongst like-minded strangers had helped her settle in faster than you expected. Seeing them together made them look like family.

Because of the great reputation she had around the society, today you allowed Gwen to pull you away from the safety of your office straight to Miguel’s for what she called emotional support. There was something she wanted to ask him—a request. And she had the idea that your presence would soften him up somehow.

“Why do you think that?” When you asked, Gwen looked back at you with a knowing smile. Her hand still latched onto your wrist like a snake squeezing its prey. She guided you through the cavernous hall of tech that led to Miguel’s office, the pathway seemed to grow darker the closer you got.

“I see how you two look at each other during meetings.” She said effortlessly like it was a fact. You let out a cough like you choked on air, already shaking your head to her conclusion.

“You know he’s always leading them—what? Do you expect me to look at the ceiling or something?” Gwen laughed at this, but it didn’t look like she was convinced.

Walking in, you had expected Miguel’s office to be darker than the hall leading towards it, but it was instead imbued with a ruddy tint, and streaks of sliver threads surrounded the area Miguel was standing in. He was in the middle of briefing a few Spider-Men for a mission on Gaia-3000. Miguel always made sure to remind his agents of the canon events before going on a mission to prevent the loss of the universe. It was more important than the mission itself.

The briefing didn’t last long as Miguel noticed you enter with Gwen. His gaze could’ve riveted you to the floor, the look on his face was neither soft nor austere—perhaps aloof would best describe how he looked at you. Yet you wanted to believe there was something behind those eyes of his because not once did they leave you since you entered. 

It was until the Spider-Men walked into their portals that Miguel’s attention moved to the floating projections. The silver webs of fate orbited around him as if he were a sun. He would’ve looked occupied if it weren’t for his eyes moving between you and the projections.

“Doc.” He greeted you once you were in front of him, looking down at you through the hologram of a canon event that floated in between you two. There was a moment—just a moment where his eyes looked soft… but it could’ve been the trick of the hologram.

“Miguel.” You had to suck your lips in to stop yourself from smiling. You hated to admit it, but you were happy to speak to him after so long. Staying away from him was a selfish decision, one that you regretted now that you stood in front of him. 

Your heart thumped in bliss, the warmth from that night revisiting you like an old friend. How inane of you to think that distance would’ve settled this emotion. It was already being stitched onto your soul from the moment this agreement started—the very needle sunken in when his hand stretched out of that portal into your apartment many months ago. You couldn’t pretend anymore.

You fell for him. Regardless of whether he felt the same or not.

“Uh, I’m here too…” Gwen had a slight smile on her face, bending forward with a small wave to Miguel.

“Gwen,” you could tell Miguel forced a smile, fangs appearing while none of the light reached his eyes. It lasted a moment before it dropped to his usual scowl. Miguel then turned around to face his floating platform that started its slow descent to the ground. “I’m sure you already had a tour of the place unless you’re just here to say hello.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something!”

“If a universe isn’t collapsing, or an anomaly hasn’t appeared, then Jess can handle it.”

“But it’s important! I just figure it would make our jobs easier. You know, making sure the universes are in order?”

The rumble of the descending platform had filled in for Miguel’s silence. He peeked behind his shoulder, his eyes looking past Gwen’s and into yours before they lowered to the ground. He then folded his arms against his chest, sighing. “I’m listening.”

Gwen immediately beamed, light filling her eyes. “Okay!” You could tell her entire energy ignited. Her arms flailed with every word that left her lips. She was animated—excited, glowing like a sun rising from the horizon, its rays brighter as the seconds go by. If anyone were to watch her, they too would feel elated by her presence alone. 

But as the sun rises in one part of the world, it sets in the other. Her idea was nothing but grave to you, the dread in your face impossible to hide as she spoke with an open mind—naivety in her words. You couldn’t blame her because it’s possible no one told her yet, not Jess and surprisingly not Peter B. If she had told you of her idea prior, you wouldn’t have come here to support her. Just the thought of her idea could be considered mutiny to the entire cause… to Miguel.

You cast your eyes down, afraid to even lift them towards Miguel. You didn’t have to. You could already feel it brewing, simmering like water on a stovetop. A part of you internally begged for Gwen to shut up, or wished the sound of the descending platform was loud enough to overtake her voice. Miguel wasn’t facing either of you but you could still feel a weight on top of your shoulders, drilling you into the floors, your limbs heavier than sacks of sand.

Gwen went on and on until she was rambling, probably because she was excited or nervous. You couldn’t exactly tell. It was until the platform finally reached the ground that Gwen ended her request with a “pretty please” and a large smile on her face.

That smile didn’t last long.

“No,” Miguel spoke softly.

“Wha…” she faltered, physically her shoulders dropped. “What? Wait—why? I mean—he would be such a great asset to our group and—Probably one of the best Spider-mans I’ve met. The things he can do— He’s amazing , Miguel.”

“I said, no.” And it was final. Gwen knew that but she still pushed, making her argument, excuses, anything. Miguel silenced her with a heavy sigh, fingers moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. You expected anger when he turned to face her but no, there was nothing but sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy for what he had to reveal to her. He towered over her and with a heavy hand on her shoulder, said:

“That Miles Morales… was never supposed to be a Spider-Man. He’s not one of us. He’s an anomaly , Gwen, the original anomaly.”

At those words, it was like a string was pulled, released and an arrow soared and struck her chest. Gwen was trying to make sense of it all but nothing made sense no matter how long she thought about it.

Miguel continued regardless. With the command of his hands, the projections swirled around you three, depicting the moment when Spider-42 fell into Earth-1610, bit the wrong Miles Morales and in turn, the Spider-man from his universe died. Your real comrade.

Gwen didn’t want to believe it. Shaking her head as she stared at each projection. The truth floated around her. Thoughts ran a mile a minute. It would’ve been better if Peter B. told her instead of Miguel. Maybe if she heard it from a trusted friend, it would’ve been easier to believe. But Gwen knew there was no reason for Miguel to lie about this. What motive could Miguel have to not let Miles join the Spider Society?

“Miles Morales-1610 as Spider-man was a mistake.” His words to her were the final nail to a coffin. With the skidding sound coming from her shoes, she turned around and bolted out of Miguel’s office.

“Gwen!” You were about to chase after her until Miguel’s voice cut through the air.

“You think I’m done here?”

You physically jumped at how loud he sounded like thunder had rolled and rumbled the floor under your feet. You turned towards him and immediately you regretted it. What was brewing before was most certainly his anger, saved solely for you while Gwen was spared because of her naivety. But you—you knew better than to associate yourself with the anomaly. If only Miguel could give you a chance to explain yourself.

“Miguel, I—”

He didn’t let you finish. His hand latched onto your wrist, pulling you deeper into his office and into a room beyond the shadows. It was more like a traditional office than the one outside with a desk, a bookcase, a soft couch and some cabinets. There was even a bed that Miguel probably slept in whenever he didn't want to return home. The sheets were ruffled so you could tell he often used it but never had enough time to make it because he was usually always on the go.

However, it was the last thing on your mind when you had a fuming Miguel in front of you. He didn’t even wait for the door to close before he grabbed you a little too rough by the shoulders, shaking you lightly. Red eyes lasered down on you.

Undoubtedly, you knew he was angry, but there was something else in there.

“What were you thinking? You know what Miles-1610 is to us, Doc! You know what an anomaly could do to a universe and you still supported her idea? Did you really think that was okay? Letting an anomaly join and ruin everything —!”

“I didn’t know! I didn’t know that’s what she wanted to ask! All she told me was that it would support the society and she needed me here for emotional support! If I knew it was about the anomaly, I wouldn’t have come here!”

You yelled back louder. Miguel’s talon-less fingers buried themselves in your upper arms, squeezing them. His eyes were wide, shaky red irises searching within your own for any hint of honesty. The grip on you wasn’t as firm as it looked. Like a crane holding a prize, the slightest nudge would’ve shaken his hands off. Despite how he looked, Miguel made sure he wasn’t hurting you.

“This is exactly why I told Jess I didn’t want her to join! She’s—She’s too close with the anomaly. She can jeopardize our entire cause all because of him !” He froze after, an idea appearing in his head. He wasn’t thinking rationally anymore. He released you, turning around like he wanted to leave. “She has to go home.”

“Wait! You can’t—Let’s think about this, Miguel.”

He was quick to face you again, his hands returning to your upper arms. He bent forward until his face was at your level. “I can’t have her risk all that I built—that we built.”

There it was. It wasn’t just anger he was feeling. The signs were all there; His trembling breath, the sweat that made his forehead glossy, the weakness in his hold. 

Miguel was panicking.

It was fear that buried itself within his fury from the moment Gwen had asked for Miles-1610’s recruitment and when he thought you supported her idea. It was like he saw it again. His daughter disappearing in his arms, the weight of her so heavy… until he felt nothing—until nothing around him existed except for what remained of the universe: white light and empty space. He had the blood of that universe on his hands and no matter how many times he tried to wash them away, it was now embedded in his soul. All that existed ended because he was the anomaly of that world disrupting the canon events. 

Months after months of research couldn’t bring him the exact reason for that universe ending, but he was sure of one thing. If everything went how it was planned, nothing like that would happen ever again.

And that’s why it was his job to put things back to how it was. It was the only thing he could do to atone.

So yes, Miguel was reliving his trauma yet again.

And it was your job to relieve him of it.

“That doesn’t mean we should make rash decisions,” you told him, gently. “She’s one of our best and letting her go would slow down our efforts. You and I both know that.”

Miguel’s energy was being sapped out of him, visibly his shoulders dropped and those red eyes were no longer on you as he hung his head low. He released you and retreated to sit on his bed. For a moment, he looked like a toy that ran out of batteries, burying his face in his hands before he ran them through his curly locks.

It was so different seeing him like this—like he was moping. You followed him and stood between his legs.

“Besides, Gwen's a smart girl. She wouldn’t do anything that would put the universes at risk.” He didn’t respond or even look at you. It made you run a hand against his cheek as your thumb brushed under his eye. “When’s the last time you slept? You look tired.”

“I don’t have time to be tired. Not when there’s a Galaxy-size mess I have to clean up. With every anomaly we restore, 10,000 more just take its place. It’s never-ending, Doc. I’m like a janitor mopping up a shoreline.” 

“We all took an oath. A spider-person’s job never ends. Which is why we need to rest as much as we can to fight another day.”

“I didn’t ask for this, Doc.” He sighed, leaning his head against your hand until his cheek pushed up against it. “And I won’t be able to sleep.”

“None of us did…” you lightly smiled, “And I’ll help you.”

You pulled your hand away from his cheek, but you didn’t miss when he leaned more against it for his lips to press into your palm. The brief feel of them jolted something within you like a warm shiver struck your lower stomach. Gosh, it made you curious—too curious about how they would feel against other parts of your body.

And you didn’t miss those eyes that looked up at you, red like cherries, sweet like them too. It was hard to turn away, somewhat thankful you managed to because you didn’t want to be under their spell. You still felt the heat of them on you even as you approached his bookcase. Your palm still tingling from the feel of his lips as you pulled a book off one of the shelves. You returned to him grinning.

He was disappointed when he glanced at your book choice in your hand. “Charlotte’s web? Am I a kid to you?”

“No, but… you act like one sometimes. Lay down for me.”

You pushed against his shoulder leaving him no choice but to oblige. What he didn’t expect was you to climb in after him, settling on your side next to him while you opened the book to page one and started to read. 

Miguel still couldn’t sleep. His eyes remained open, watching the top of your head as you read. A lovely smile on your face as you tried (and failed) to give each character their own distinctive voice. When you weren’t busy turning the page, the hand that he kissed was together with his, fingers interlocked. You were so used to holding his hand by now that you thought nothing of it and ignored the warmth that spread throughout your body because of it.

“Are you finally resuming our sessions?” Miguel interrupted you, pulling your eyes away from the book and into his own.

“Only if you need it.”

You knew Miguel would never admit he needed it, especially how adamant he was about them in the beginning.

“I need it.”

Oh.

“I definitely need it.”

“Then… I’ll put you back on my calendar.”

“ Muy Bien. ”

His sonorous whisper had heat searing your cheeks, not to mention, that smile that flashed your way made his fangs look bigger—so mischievous it had you biting your lip. Immediately after, Miguel’s mask materialized around his head. Much to your disappointment.

“Do you really need your mask on while you sleep?” You asked.

“You never know when the job needs you. Have to always be on the ready.”

“Words from a true workaholic… you said you wanted a family but how exactly were you going to make time for them when you’re working all these hours?”

“Oh, I always made time for mi hija . Always went to her soccer practice. Always was there to read her a bedtime story. Take her clothes shopping. I was made to be a dad but… it just isn’t in my fate to be one.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard his pain. You squeezed his hand, regretful.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, no, no, no—It’s okay… It’s a valid question.”

Not knowing what else to say, you continued to read. Seconds, minutes, time ticked away. Miguel’s hand was still tight in yours, but his voice came out heavy whenever he commented about the book. His head was against the pillows, turned in your direction. 

Your voice must’ve been soothing him because his hand would grow weak in yours and then he would suddenly squeeze it, throwing a random comment out about the main character, Wilbur, and then trying to convince you he didn’t fall asleep. Sometimes the heat where your hands came together would make him doze off and the coolness that grew when they were briefly apart would stir him awake.

“Maybe we should’ve recruited Charlotte. She really saved that pig’s ass,” he mumbled, looking like he had sunk deeper into his bed, the pillows swallowed his head.

“Yeah, she dedicated her life to saving him. All the way to the very end. She never gave up, spending hours weaving her web, trying to convince the humans no matter how tough it got. I’m sure she may have felt like she was… mopping up a shoreline too but her actions paid off in the end… the difference is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You have us—all of us to rely on, to help shoulder the burden. Please don’t forget that—that we’re here for you.”

You expected something, anything from him, but you received nothing but silence. “Miguel…? Oh…” it was then you noticed his hand was weak in yours and when you pulled your hand away, he stayed asleep.

Finally. You couldn’t help but smile, softly closing the book before sitting up.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he lay supine against his bed. You should’ve left his office but you stayed there watching him sleep, taking in the rare sight of Miguel completely defenseless. You wished you could’ve seen his face. It would’ve been the topping on the cake.

Your fingers brushed against his arm, suddenly craving the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for him any longer, but you wondered if Miguel felt anything for you. You knew how lonely men acted. As long as the body was warm and could keep them company, it didn’t matter to them.

Some part of you wondered if you were just as lonely as Miguel—that these feelings were just because you craved for someone. Maybe it was even the reason why you sprung up this agreement in the first place. After your divorce, you became married to your work, the only thing that mattered was your patients as a therapist and the people you saved as a superhero. You abandoned yourself, shutting yourself off from the world within your white-walled apartment. It was why you looked up to Miguel as much as you did because he was the one who pulled you out of your darkness. So you were hoping you could do the same thing for him.

But you knew your heart beat too strongly for it to be just feelings of loneliness. It longed for him even when you were this close to him, wanting to be surrounded by the warmth that emanated from him, wanting to be touched, kissed, and held only by the man who saved you, your guiding light while you were lost at sea.

Your hand moved to caress his cheek, feeling the fibers of his mask under your fingertips. You were leaning closer to him, unable to resist like a moth to a flame. God, you were completely enamored by him. Looks like he didn’t need to look at you to be under his spell.

For the first time, you didn’t think about the consequences. For the first time, you were mindless.

You pressed your lips against his lips, closing your eyes. It was softer than you expected; light, feathery and warm. Too warm . It was brief but it was enough to light a flame within you that burned when you pulled away. Your breath shuddered as you inhaled, the warmth lasting only a second.

Your eyes opened, but you found yourself stilling. Miguel’s eyes were still closed, though half of his mask was dematerialized to the tip of his nose. His lips were out, free from the fibers.

Your mouth hung open. Miguel had removed half of his mask when kissed him and you hadn't a clue if he was asleep all this time or not.

The remainder of his mask dematerialized and you were face to face with those eyes of his. Your heart skipped a beat, knocking the air from your lungs as your palms grew sweaty. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You felt so much pressure under his gaze, his face not quite readable. You flicked your wrist towards the ceiling and a web shot out, preparing yourself to run away until a glowing red web wrapped around your wrist and riveted you in place.

“Not this time, Doc.”

------------------------------

Tag List:

@oikawa-bubs @brittney69 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @allysunny @smarty0029 @96jnie @deepinballs @lovecandyuwu @remuslupinwifee

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #marvel #sony #spider man: across the spider verse #spider man: into the spider verse #fanfiction #fluff #angst #smut #the agreement

[devilmademewriteit]

completely inspired by a gif set u reblogged. Javi helping you into a bullet proof/tactical vest. you’re scared and he just says a gentle “arms up” as he secures the velcro. he’s scared as well, doesn’t wanna lose you, doesn’t want you to get hurt. but it’s like the fear, the adrenaline, has your emotions haywire and you look into his eyes as he takes hold of your hand so gently and tells you that you’re gonna be okay, and you just want to kiss him, and he wants to kiss you too, but then it’s time to go, and he tells you “later”

IDK WHAT THIS IS LMFAO Javi brings the slut outta me

you’ve inspired me anon here is a TINY FIC/DRABBLE YEEEEEEEE

pairing: javier peña x fem!afab!reader

warnings: fem!afab!reader; use of pet name ‘sweetheart’; canon-typical allusions to violence; language; ANGSTY POO

omg I can’t believe there’s no smut. GUYS I WROTE SOMETHING WITHOUT SMUT. I loooove writing my javi tho so while im busting my ass working on Salvatore part 3 feel so free to leave me lil thingies like this.

-em<3

—

“Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but—”

It was never supposed to be like this.

It was just a summer job — something safe, boring, admin and agendas and addendums. Should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city.

She should’ve known better, taking a government job in the world’s most dangerous city. Shit. My chest feels like it’s on fire, burnin’ through kerosene.

Is she gonna clock how unsteady I am?

Javi’s footsteps echo down the nearby hallway; you recognize them immediately, and their slanted, hard-right-drag-left rhythm. He comes lumbering through the door, cradling tactical gear between his big, bulging biceps. God, you’d had… thoughts about those biceps.

Even now, with the embassy under cartel-siege, it’s oh-so-hard to push away the x-rated daydreams swirling inside your stress-addled mind.

And he doesn’t look scared.

Fuck, she looks so scared.

“Here,” he says, extending the protective vest towards you. Gingerly peeling your hips off of the desk at your back, you extend your fingers to greet and grab at the rough, thick canvas. The sheer weight of it makes your heart lurch into your throat. Neither one of you lowers your hands.

The dark-green-death-sweater you’d seen him wear so many times, cursing yourself for registering, for caring about what it meant.

That it meant Peña — schmoozing, cocky, effortlessly crude Javier Peña — was going into the field.

So neither of you let go.

The stupid vest had always served as a kind of divining rod, leading you both to the real source of your constant bickering, your irritation and the look of mutual, unabashed worry you had shared as a soldier came bursting into the office, panting in tune with the sirens, carrying news of the currently unfolding attack.

Caring without meaning to.

Giving a shit without wanting to.

“I-“ you swallow, trailing off, cursing the swelling bubble forming at neck-breaking speed inside your throat, “I don’t know what to do with this.”

Of course she doesn’t. That one’s on me. ‘Thing like her should never have to wear one of these.

Shouldn’t even have to see one of these.

“S’okay,” he mutters, taking the burden of the gear into his hands, brow furrowing into a look of delicate responsibility. “Turn around.”

Under different circumstances, those words might’ve (embarrassingly enough) enticed a very different feeling from you.

Now, they were simply effective.

Acceding, you rotate, painfully slowly as every hair along your spine lifts, one after the other. Peña shuffles, adjusting both himself and the gear to stand close — too close — behind you.

“Arms up, sweetheart.”

You listen, dragging your arms up into the static air, trying to ignore the soft edge in his voice. It reminds you of something.

Something like resistance.

Stifled want.

Desire with a sock shoved down its bone-dry throat.

And it’s so level, so calm. How is he so calm?

Can she tell I’m totally freaking out?

Your shoulders sag under the weight of the vest. Jesus. It’s so much heavier than you’d imagined. Not quite as heavy as the feeling of doom settling over you, grief from the naive sense of safety you’d walked into work with.

Just this morning.

Javi busies himself with the Velcro, uncharacteristically silent. His knuckles brush the insides of your wrists, and you try to resist it — God, you really do — but all efforts to keep those prickling tears at bay are undertaken in vain.

You quiver slightly, face burning in shame.

Is she shaking?

Gentle, unusually gentle when his fingers wrap around your upper arm, spinning you around to face him once more.

“Look at me.”

You do. His shadowed eyes swim, dance, rage with experience, and you’re left envious, wishing that you’d hardened yourself to the world in the same way. How many times had this man woken up, driven to work, drunk his morning coffee and smoked his morning smoke, accepting that it could be his last?

Knowing Peña, he probably found ways not to think about it.

For sure, he didn’t think about it.

But you did.

Every time that vest came out.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, alright?”

It’s an almost whisper, a mere brush of air against your brow. His own creases in earnestness as he utters the pledge.

“How can you do this for a living?”

You don’t mean for it to come out so rough and jagged, hissing for help like a neglected kettle on the stove. Javi offers you a smile of understanding as though remembering his own first time.

Then, before either of you can stop it, he places the flat of his palm to your cheek.

And you can’t keep from noticing how easily the calloused pad of his thumb molds to your complying skin.

“You get used to it,” he returns, and every word is coated, soaked in the sad, tragic truth. “Though this part’s always hard.”

Nothing exists beyond the smell of tobacco on his breath and the total absorption in his eyes. You’re sure the latter is mirrored in your own, too.

Timid, uneasy, begging him to ease the discomfort for you. “What part is this?”

The part where I lie to you. The part where I bubble-wrap the only thing in this country worth protecting into a shitty, almost useless accessory of war.

The part where I remember—

Is it the part where we remember how easily we could lose each other?

And we don’t even have each other, for God’s sake. Lookin’ up at me as if she can trust me, and the only thing I’ve been able to trust for years is that the moment will come, that moment where it all just gets to be too much and fuck—is this it? Maybe—

This is the part where we—

Kiss her, God, I just wanna fuckin’ kiss her—

Kiss?

“Peña! Time to move!”

Murphy’s voice slices — easily — through the tentative moment of uncertainty. It erodes the softness of Javi’s features into that familiar, hardened stone.

His hand drops from your face, but the tracings linger.

If you couldn’t trust the world outside, maybe you could trust Javi inside. Maybe he’d learned to live without something to lean on, but you weren’t yet prepared to go on—

She doesn’t know how much I fuckin’ need her. Or how many times I’ve tried to say it—and in so many ways—but every time I open my goddamn mouth it just comes out… wrong. Like it’s not enough. Like it’s not true that I can finally fuckin’ breathe when she’s… just… existing around me. Like losing her wouldn’t mean goin’ on—

Faithlessly. Radically accepting the confusing, overwhelming uncertainty of the world.

He clears his throat.

“I’ll see you after.”

Your gaze tumbles down, averting the twinge of dishonesty in his own at his promise.

“Yeah—yeah, see you after.”

He backs away without turning. For a moment, you think he’s gearing up to say something. Something like he always says, like, don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, or use your head or maybe even a smile, sweetheart.

But he doesn’t. He just shakes his head, his dark hair tumbling around and exaggerating his hesitation. Although it hurts, you force yourself to watch as he walks away. How he bows his crown, brings a hand up to anxiously rub at the side of his jaw, the roundness of his shoulder responding and near-bulging under the blue cotton.

Admittedly, a kiss from Javier Peña would’ve been nice.

But to be cradled between those arms, wrapped up in him instead of the goddamn tactical gear squeezing, robbing the air from your lungs…

That would’ve been it.

When this is all over, you think to yourself.

And as Javi greets Steve, apologizing for the delay, the hand squeezing his gun feels strangely empty, haunted by the novelty of touching your burning skin.

When this is all over, he thinks to himself.

Anyways, isn’t that what faith is? Making plans for later, as if anyone’s ‘later’ is promised, a guarantee? As if either of you could count on tomorrow?

Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

Joining the gaggle of scared, hopeless government employees, desperate for reassurance, for the realization blooming inside the depths of your knowing; you pause, letting it hit you, translating it into words…

“—I have it.”

—

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña angst #javier pena narcos #javier peña fic #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

[kqyslyho3]

since I'm feeling disgusting over me i need one where matt comforts reader when she feels down, she hates herself, her looks, she thinks she's annoying and boring (basically what i feel like)

warnings and what to expect ! : venting and self loathing.

Y/N sat on her bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn't help but feel a wave of self-loathing wash over her. She hated herself, her looks, and everything about her. She couldn't understand why anyone would want to be around her. She was convinced that she was annoying and boring, and she couldn't shake off the feeling that she was just a burden to those around her.

As tears welled up in her eyes, she heard a soft knock on her door. She quickly wiped her face and composed herself before calling out for the person to come in. It was Matt, her best friend since childhood. He could tell just by looking at her that something was wrong.

'Hey ma, what's going on?' he asked, using the nickname he had given her when they were kids.

Y/N shrugged, not wanting to burden him with her negative thoughts. But Matt could see right through her. He walked over and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her.

'Talk to me, mamas,' he said softly, using another one of their childhood nicknames.

Y/N took a deep breath and poured her heart out to him. She told him how she felt like she wasn't good enough, how she hated the way she looked, and how she thought she was just a boring and annoying person. Matt listened patiently, his arms never leaving her.

'Y/N, look at me,' he said, gently lifting her chin so she was looking into his eyes. 'You are one of the most beautiful and captivating people I know. Your looks are just a small part of who you are. Your personality, your kind heart, your unwavering support, those are the things that make you truly special.'

Y/N couldn't believe what she was hearing. She had never seen herself in that light before. But the sincerity in Matt's eyes made her start to believe him. He continued to comfort her, telling her all the things he loved about her. And slowly, she started to see herself in a different light.

As the night went on, Matt stayed by her side, making her laugh and distracting her from her negative thoughts. And as they lay in bed together, Y/N's head resting on Matt's chest, she couldn't help but feel grateful for his unwavering love and support.

'Thank you, Matt,' she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

'Always, mamas,' Matt replied, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Their bodies intertwined, they made love in the most tender and loving way. It was a physical expression of the bond they shared, a reminder that no matter what, they would always be there for each other.

As they lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of peace and contentment. She knew that her journey to self-love and acceptance would still have its ups and downs, but with Matt by her side, she felt stronger and more confident than ever before.

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, feeling loved and cherished by the one person who truly saw her for who she was. And as Matt whispered sweet nothings into her ear, she knew that she was going to be okay. Because she had him, her rock, her constant, her Matt.

.·:·.✧ ✦✧..·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.

Kqysly notes-

i hope you feel better babes.

i had this half written and forgotten somewhere in my notes when i saw ur message.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo cute story

[raplinesprince]

Somebody Does Love | MYG

Pairing: BestFriend!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Idol au

Synopsis: You never wanted to burden Yoongi with your problems, he was healing and you weren’t even close but he was your best friend and he’d always turn up for you.

Warnings: Depression, self depreciation, implied self harm.

WC: 2.1k

Posted: 18 August 2023

It didn't take much for Yoongi to worry about you. He could tell something was wrong by something as simple as the way you worded a text or how you carried yourself on a particular day. In fact, he knew you better than you knew yourself. Habits, tastes, quirks. Some of which he'd tell you, others he kept to himself because he didn't want you to stop doing them, because he knew you'd stop if he did.

He knew you well enough that you'd stop all the things he loved most about you if he uttered a word about them, it was a habit of yours he hated. You never did it consciously, of course. It was like it was programmed into you that the second someone told you they loved a feature, you’d change it or one of your quirks, you'd stop doing it almost instantly.

And that list of things he loved was long. He'd probably have to write a book, but there were things he hated, one in particular.

You never wanted to bother him with your problems.

It drives him mad.

He's your best friend, Yoongi would remind you constantly. You're problems were his problems and vice versa. someone broke your heart? They broke his. Someone mistreated him? They mistreated you.

One thing always remained certain for both of you, no one would argue it. You'd take a bullet for each other in a heartbeat.

"You've been staring at the same screen for twenty minutes, hyung." Namjoon broke the silence of Yoongi's studio, interrupting the elder's thoughts.

"Sorry, You wanted something?" Yoongi asked nonchalantly as he swung his chair to face Namjoon, greeting him with a forced smile.

Namjoon held up a set of headphones he'd taken from one of the shelves in Yoongi's studio. "Mine broke, I knew you had a spare."

Yoongi rolled his eyes endearingly, a small breathly laugh slipped out.

"It wasn't my fault this time!" Namjoon protested his innocence.

For once, it actually wasn't the clumsy man-child’s fault.

"Ah yes, it's the little man that mysteriously comes in your studio and breaks all your stuff," Yoongi teased.

"Uhm, It was, actually." A blush rose on Namjoons cheeks, whether he wanted to admit it or profusely deny it, he could give a tomato a run for its money. "Jimin was in.. he.. sat on them."

"Suuure," he teased further, "I'm sure that’s what he, no, the two of you, were doing."

"Hyung!"

"Dongsaeng?" Yoongi hummed, giving Namjoon a knowing look.

"Back to the original point," Namjoon deflected. "Are you okay? You were miles away."

"I'm fine," Yoongi looked back at the lyrics on the screen, his expression changing instantly. "It's y/n."

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know" He rested back on his chair while running his hands through his long, fluffy hair. "I haven't heard from her in two days. I was meant to have dinner with her and got really into writing this song and I had an idea for the beat and went all in. She knows I get like that sometimes, and that's the reason when I don't reply."

"Sometimes." Namjoon rolled his eyes jokingly.

"I messaged her that I was sorry and we should have breakfast, no reply. I text about dinner an hour ago, and it's not even delivered."

"You're telling me this like you've never just welcomed yourself into her apartment a million and one times." Namjoon reminded him with a raised brow.

"I really have to fin.."

"GO!" Namjoon ordered his hyung. "Leader privileges," he defended quickly when he realised how abrupt he was while still pointing towards the studio door.

He didn't wait a second longer. Even leaving the studio in his slides, forgoing the Nike dunks by the door. Leaving Namjoon to save his work and sort all his equipment which he gladly did. He was worried about you too, more so because you meant so much to someone that meant equally as much to him. Thirteen years isn't easily forgotten, and you were there too.

He made it to your apartment twenty minutes later, letting himself in like it was his own home.

The sight he saw was enough to cause an ache, vice like grip on his heart.

Quickly making his way to be by your side.

With gentle calloused fingertips your best friend tilted your chin up, his smile was warm and inviting, but his eyes were filled with worry and sadness, even guilt for not noticing something was wrong sooner.

The pad of his thumb wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks, neither set of eyes straying from the others, you only briefly cut eye contact to blink away oncoming tears as they clouded your vision.

You weren’t there, not really. Yoongi knew better than to pressure you into talking, so he stayed silently knelt in front of you for a moment, his large hands engulfing your little ones before bringing them towards his lips for a quick peck before he took a seat beside you. He took you into his arms and kept you close until you stopped crying, not a care for the time that went by or the fact that his phone kept going off. It wasn't important, not right now.

“You're gonna be okay,” He talked softly, quiet as a mouse like he was afraid to startle you.

He repeated himself over and over, followed by 'i love you', 'you're safe with me" and every other sweet thing he’d ever told you. Your cries eventually turned into quiet hiccups to unsteady breaths and eventually a quiet calm, the room filled with nothing but your breaths and the noises from the street outside.

You stayed like that, in the comfort of his arms, in silence. An hour went by, maybe more.

He looked down at you, almost falling asleep from exhaustion, your entire face red and puffy from so much crying. All the overwhelming feelings all on your own, so intensely burst like a dam. He wasn't leaving your side, music would have to wait. For as long as you needed him, he was going to be there.

"Don't sleep, jagiya. Let me make you something to eat, alright? We'll get you cleaned up and in some fresh clothes. You can sleep after that."

You shook your head.

"Yes," Yoongi told you sternly, not too harsh, but he wasn't going to let you keep doing this to yourself, not on his watch. "I will chew it for you and spit it in your mouth like a mother bird, if i have too."

You scrunched up your face in disgust, causing Yoongi to chuckle softly.

"That's what I thought."

You didn't protest when Yoongi ushered you into your room, you didn't want to hurt him. He was getting you in the bath regardless. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked before, definitely not under the same circumstances, but it didn't faze him then, and it won't faze him now.

He went into the bathroom and starting filling the bath, picking your favourite bathbomb and dropping it into the bath, smiling to himself as it turned purple and a light lavender scent began to fill the air. He grabbed some towels and put them in the dryer to warm up for you before coming to help you out of your clothes.

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Always," you replied in a coarse whisper.

He was careful, gentlemanly, checking your face for any sign you were uncomfortable. You were okay until he went to help you out of your tracksuit bottoms, he watches your hands clutch tighter to the bedsheet and the faint hitch in your breath.

"I'm sorry," you tell him before nodding in permission for him to take them off.

He took one look at your thighs before looking up at you, leaning up to press a light kiss on your forehead. "Don't ever apologise for how you feel, I just wish you'd told me it was getting this bad again."

He wrapped his arm around your body, helping you toward the bathroom and helped you step into the bath. He relaxed a little when he heard you hum as you lowered into the water.

"Is it hot enough?” he asked, watching for any discomfort.

“S’good.” you hum, tracing over the bubbles with the tips of your fingers. Yoongi watched on with a little smile before he sat himself on the edge of the bath, reaching for your favourite body wash and a soft sponge, opting for the soft option rather than a loofah.

He squeezed a drop of soap onto the sponge and scrunched it together in his hands until it was covered in vanilla scented suds.

“Tell me to stop if you want me too,” he told you, leaning forward to get a look at you when you didn't reply. You nod for him to go on, even though you were miles away. He could tell by your eyes, he decided to just get on with it. He moved gently around your back, air in the bathroom filled with it's vanilla scent, mixing with the lavender. It was even making him sleepy. He watched you close your eyes beginning to relax as he continued on.

Once he had you covered in bubbles he rinsed you off with a cup he had sitting near by in the water and began washing the bubbles off. He saw your back rise and fall with a deep breath, a yawn he came to realise. He glanced at your face and your eyes in a fight to stay open as you moved your hands up to your face slowly and rubbed at your eyes for a moment before dropping your hands back into the water. Yoongi smiled. You looked adorable, if he was honest.

He was equally as gentle when washing your hair, missing some of your routine but the goal was to get your freshened up and comfortable, not Miss Universe.

“You can lay back now if you want.” Yoongi offered, you sighed and slumped in the tub, body sinking into the bubbles.

"Why do you do this for me? You're always there." You finally spoke more than one word.

"Because even if everything else was to disappear, I know you'll always be there."

"What if I'm not strong enough?"

"You are," he told you, leaning down to kiss your forehead again before he left for the kitchen to make you a quick snack, knowings it’s probably all you could stomach or be bothered to eat.

Crackers and a makeshift topping would have to do because it was all you had.

He brought everything you two would need for the night including the hot towels from the dryer to the bedroom before Yoongi helped you out of the bath, taking you into the bedroom wrapped up in the toasty towel to get you dried off and into some PJs.

“Which Pyjamas do you want?”

You pointed to him with a sweet, innocent smile.

“My top?” he chuckled. “Really?”

“Please?” and like clockwork you put on your best puppy dog eyes. Jungkook taught you well because Yoongi could never say no.

He rolled his eyes playfully and took off his shirt, pulling it over your head for you and smiled contently when he took a look at you. “You’re so adorable,” he smiled up at you before instructing you to sit between his legs with the hairbrush he had in hand.

You sat in front of him, lightly snacking away on the food he gave you when you sat down while he brushed through your hair, effortlessly putting it into two french braids. He’d watched you do it enough times and he was a quick learner, especially if it was taking up his cuddling time with you.

When you finished eating, Yoongi went to tidy up while you got yourself into bed. Half asleep when he came to join you, he switched off the light and climbed into bed with you.

Instantly cuddling into him with your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you began to drift off to sleep.

“Can I play you a song I’ve been working on?” he asked, cuddling you in close.

Yoongi presses play on his phone as you nod.

Somebody does love but I'm thinking ‘bout you.

He watched as you drift off to sleep, running his hands through your hair, softly singing along until his eyes fell heavy and he drifted off too.

Maybe one day he’d tell you the song is for you.

Authors Note: A huge thank you to @sopebubbles /@sopebubbles-replies for encouraging me to write this fic and proof reading, it's been a long time coming for her, you have no idea! also my bestie @lifeinakpopbubble who never thought she'd see this day.

#yoongi #bestfriend!yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #min yoongi #tw: depression #tw: depressive episode #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #reader fic #tw: mental health #bts #raplinesprince writes

[starcrossedxwriter]

Wicked Fantasies Part 6 (MBJ x OC)

Warnings: Look… its literally just angst lol you're gonna feel things! Don't say I didn't warn you. NSFW

A/N: This is like 2 weeks later than I promised (SO sorry, y'all!) but I hope you enjoy!

***

“This isn’t so bad,” Michael argued. “She’s just complaining that she hasn’t met me yet and some other shit that isn’t even true. Why’s that a problem?” 

Alex shook her head as she scrolled on her phone. Her eyes did not even leave her phone screen as she spoke, her nails furiously tapping across the glass screen. “It’s not what she said that’s the problem. It’s that she’s talking at all… the only things I want to see in the media about the two of you are cute photos from date night, not tell alls from family members. Does she know about your… previous career?” 

This was the first time his manager had even directed a question at Raven, who had sat silently since they arrived. She was so angry that she could not even revel in the fact that she was at Michael’s house for the first time, not regulated to her usual place in his bachelor pad. She thought being invited to this intimate part of his life would make her happier. But instead of feeling joy and welcomed, she merely felt like a burden. She was only there out of necessity to fix the crisis her own sister created. 

This is why you can never be more, she reminded herself. Paris had started to rip out the weeds of doubt that grew in her soul, siphoning away the power of the notion that they could not be more. It had made her fall deeper in love with him, made her seriously ponder whether his feelings for her stretched into deeper territory.. But this? This reminded her of a sickening fact. 

No matter how many trips he charted for her, gifts he showered her with, or kindness he showed, she did not belong here with him in the real world. It was as if every intimate detail of his home and his real life that she saw screamed at her that she was out of place, punching above her weight, and needed to return to where she belonged: the outskirts of his life in the condo where he took one-night stands and flings that meant nothing once the sun rose. Because as soon as their arrangement was done, she would be nothing to him again. And while Paris had made her feel like she could still win in the ring, now she felt as if she was merely being punched right back down where she belonged. 

“No. Well… she doesn’t know about the prostitution. But… I always thought she figured out I was a stripper somehow.” 

Alex, who previously had been engrossed in her phone, lifted her head in surprise. “You were a stripper too? Would’ve been nice to know before now,” she muttered under her breath. 

Raven’s long stiletto nails bit into the palm of her hand as she tried not to let one comment push her right off the cliff she was teetering on. She knew Alex was not intending to be judgmental but that did not stop her from feeling the sting of it. Every choice she made in her life since the moment she came into the world seemed to be a bad one for everyone else. She could not do anything right. 

“I was a 19 year old with no skills who needed to pay for college. I wasn’t facing a fucking mountain of options. So I did the best I could with a shitty situation... Sorry my choices as a desperate teenager are making your job so difficult,” Raven snapped. 

“I didn’t me-” 

“Alex.” Michael’s stern voice cut through the budding tension, stealing the words right out of Alex’s mouth. Michael’s dominance and power seemed to have an effect on everyone, though Raven suspected it was because he was not the type to abuse it. Alex immediately let the rest of her sentence fade away, opting to apologize instead. 

Michael’s eyes had not left Raven’s body since they got in the car. He hated how her eyes actively avoided him, he had been unable to look in her beautiful brown eyes for over an hour and that killed him. They were the most expressive part of her, windows into her soul and every feeling she had. She shied away from his comforting touch in the car so he kept his distance but even still, he could see how her entire frame trembled ever so slightly. Her furrowed brow… her silence. God, her silence was so deafeningly loud in his ears. He was not used to it. Even if it was awkward ramblings, she was rarely silent with him. This was a side of her he had never seen. It was not sadness or resignation, he had seen both of those, and she seemed to be able to push through those just fine. No, this was something else and it was red hot and all consuming to the point where he could tell she could not hide it. It was a far cry from the woman who was sound asleep on his shoulder on the plane two hours prior. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex raised her hands. “I’m sorry. I’d never judge anyone for doing what they need to. I just need to know what else your sister could say.” 

“She has no proof… just speculation. But that’s it. She doesn’t know anything about my life now… we aren’t close.” 

At first, she had immediately handed Alex back her phone, uninterested in reading whatever lies her sister decided to spew. However, when Michael summarized it for her, the notions in it were so absurd, she had to read them for herself. She instantly wished she had not. 

It was as dramatic as it was false, her sister complaining about how Raven had changed and alienated her own family since her romance with the superstar had begun. She spun a web of tall tales about how Raven never spoke to them anymore, how close they once were and how much the family missed her, how Raven had told them Michael was too busy to meet them. By the time Raven got to the end of the article, she was shaking. 

She supposed the silver lining was that the article was more of a personal attack on her character than their relationship, which she was used to from her sister. She just had not expected her sister to drag it into the public eye like this. And while reading her words agitated some of her deepest wounds, they fueled more anger in her than any other emotion. Anger was not an emotion Raven often felt where her family was concerned. Slight frustration, sadness, hurt, guilt? She felt all of those often but she was used to it and often brushed them off. But true anger? That was rare, or rather, it was rare that she let herself feel true anger. And now, it hit her as high, powerful waves crashing against her shores. 

“So she’s just lookin’ for her 15 minutes. Fine. But she can’t say anything else, this’s gotta be it.” 

“Who cares if she mouths off to the media?” Michael asked. He knew why Alex cared and why he should care. But at that moment, all he could actually care about was minimizing this for Raven’s sake. He knew her well enough to know that the only person she would blame for this was herself, not her idiot sister. And it seemed to him that she blamed herself for far too much where her family was concerned. He did not want to add another unnecessary thing to that list. Nor did he want her to feel the burden of this because she was quite the opposite of a burden to him and he would clean up 100 PR nightmares for her without a second thought. They had taken 10 steps forward in Paris, walls came crumbling down for both of them. If he did not fix this fast, Raven would retreat 15 steps back from him and he could not take that. 

“That’s not the point! She’s smoke and TMZ knows where there’s smoke, there’s a fuckin’ fire. And y’all two and this whole situation is a damn forest fire. We don’t need TMZ or a fuckin’ Inspector Gadget head ass Tik Toker to look into Raven’s life or past anymore than they already have. So you need to shut her up now. Is she a fan of his or somethin?”

Raven scoffed. “If wanting to add him to her list of fuck buddies means she’s a fan then sure… she’s a fan.” Her anger meant she could not hide the bitterness in her voice, could not pretend to have a kind word to say about her sister who seemed to take joy in going out of her way to ruin all the good things in her life. 

“Well, that shit definitely ain’t happenin’,” Michael stated with a growl. 

“I mean, no nigga, I wasn’t gonna suggest you fuck her sister.” Alex rolled her eyes.

“Maybe we s-should just end this. I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing.” Raven’s voice was so quiet, Michael almost did not hear her. It hurt her heart to even consider it but Paris had rubbed her raw, left her and her emotions exposed in ways she had not experienced in a long time. And she had not minded that at first, she savored the closeness and vulnerability with another person. But now, all of her emotions felt dialed up by ten in that vulnerability and that overwhelmed her. She was overwhelmed by the rage she felt at her family for trying to use Michael the way they used her. She thought she couldn’t ruin him but she felt as if she already was. “I’m r-ruining everything…” 

Michael’s heart stopped, his head shaking vehemently before any words could even escape his lips. “What? No… why would we do that?” 

Raven’s head fell into her hands as she let out a frustrated and strangled sigh that sounded like a sob. 

“Ok, let’s all take a breath. I’m sorry, I probably made this seem like a bigger deal than it is. We don’t need to stop or end it if you aren’t ready to. This is still a good plan, no one is ruining anything. We can fix this. We just need to give her what she wants. If you just meet her, take a picture with her, get her tickets to a high profile event or party or whatever she wants, then maybe she’ll settle down and keep her mouth shut.” 

“She won’t,” Raven mumbled to no one in particular. 

“Everyone has a price and we just need to find hers,” Alex continued texting on her phone.  

“She won’t because she’s an attention seeking bitch. She’s never had a real job or ambition or anything going for her and just takes and takes and takes from everyone with no thought. I can give her the fucking world and she’ll come back with her hand still out!” Raven exploded, jumping up from her seat as the words escaped her lips before she could even hope to stop them. She buried her face in her hands and turned away from both of them as she heard them in the space, instantly regretting them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

Michael sighed and gestured toward the door, Alex walking out of the room with him. He closed the door behind them.

“So I take it there’s some bad blood there?” Alex asked as she leaned on the door. 

“Lots of it. You know how family shit is… lots of heavy ass baggage there. Let me talk to her and I’ll call you tonight with a game plan. I think she just feels betrayed and upset and needs to process all that.” 

“Understood,” Alex raised her hands in surrender. “Take your time, give her what she needs. Sorry this had to happen as soon as you came back. She seemed really happy when y’all got off the plane, I didn’t mean to ruin it.” 

Michael shook his head. “Doing your job isn’t ruining anything. But my guess is the timing of this, on her sister’s part, wasn’t random. Sucks too… the past week was the most relaxed I’ve ever seen her, first time she seemed actually happy.” Michael stared through the glass panels of his office door to watch her. He could see the tension in her shoulders from all the way over here, could tell they were shaking slightly from silent tears. 

He turned away to look back at Alex whose eyes were big with shock. 

“What?” 

“You’re in love with her.” 

“Alexxxx…” he dragged out her name, his manager scoffing and dragging him by the arm further away from the door. 

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Bakari. I’ve run a couple PR relationships in my time and most fail miserably. Been trying to figure out why this one seems to be working so well… I knew it wasn’t cause you’re that good of an actor, no shade. It’s because you… Michael Bakari Jordan love her. You’re not having to play for the cameras because you’re actually in love with her. Look me in my eyes and tell me I’m wrong.” 

Michael sucked his teeth. “I love her.” He admitted. “And I know what you’re gonna say… it can’t work and it’s stupid and I’ll need to end it like we always planned. I know, I got it.” 

He started to move past her when her hand grabbed his bicep to stop him. 

“I was actually gonna say that I’m happy for you. Been waiting for you to wise up and find someone for real. If she’s what you want, I support it and you 100%. And we can figure out how to spin it.” She jerked her head back toward the office. “Go take care of your girl. Call 

me later.” 

They shared a hug before Michael disappeared back into the office. Raven sniffled and quickly wiped her tears away before standing up and walking over to him. She tried to put a positive look on her face and tone in her voice as she spoke. 

“I’m sorry… that outburst was m-mean and totally unnecessary. And not helpful. She’s right, we need a game plan and everything. Where’s Alex? I want to apologize and then I can fix this.”

He perched on the edge and widened his stance so he could pull her in between his legs. His arm wrapped around her waist as he pulled her into his chest. He did not like how she braced her forearms against his chest to avoid fully melting into his embrace. 

“I don’t need you to do anything and Alex doesn’t need an apology. She’s fine. I care more about whether you’re good or not. You’re upset.” 

She shook her head. “I’m not upset.” 

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You just called your sister an attention seeking bitch. Ain’t gon’ hear an argument from me but that’s not like you. You’re pissed, rightfully so. Tell me why though, don’t bottle that shit up.” 

Raven stared at him for a moment, her mouth opening and closing a couple times as she tried to find the words to tell him. Tell him that she was near out of relentless hope and optimism, that a not-so-small part of her hated her sister and wished she never had to see her again, that she wanted to cut her and her dad out of her life completely but she wasn’t brave enough to be truly alone so she couldn’t, that a bigger part of her wanted to call TMZ and tell them all about how horrible her family has been to her her entire life, that it cut deeper than she imagined it would to read her sister describe a relationship between them that had always been her dream but she actively denied her. She wanted to tell him that she was tired, that she felt guilty and ashamed for dragging him into this mess, that she didn’t deserve his care and kindness because all she had done was ruin his life.

It was all too much, the avalanche of emotions she felt picked up speed and power with every moment she stood in his presence. And she needed it to stop, needed to throw up some type of blockade so she was not run over and drowned by it. She needed walls again, barriers. And the only way she could think to recreate those was to put both physical and emotional distance between herself and the man in front of her. He was the only person who forced her to exist in her vulnerability, to feel everything and not shy away from it. But that was dangerous. She was not built for it. Once the avalanche hit, she knew she would not get back up. So, she had to get out. 

So she did the only thing she could think of, she threw up the walls of a working girl. She knew they would not hold for long, not with his persistence, but they would hold long enough for her to reign it all in again. Long enough for her to lock her feelings back up in their cage where they belonged. 

“I’m not angry.” Her tone left no room for argument as she pried herself out of his embrace and walked back to the couch to grab her bag off the floor. “I’m not angry. Kiara’s not a… bad person. She’s just… Kiara’s the Sun and I imagine the Sun would be upset if Pluto tried to steal its spotlight too. She’s the center of my family’s world and she hates it when it seems like I’m trying to take that away. It’s fine. I’ll give her whatever she needs to feel like the Sun again and that I humbled myself back to my position as Pluto. Everyone wins.” She said it in such a matter-of-fact way that, if he didn’t know her, he would have missed the bitterness in her words. 

“You don’t need to pretend with me, Rae. You can be upset.” 

“Nothing to be upset about. This is just how it is… I’m used to it. She wants something and she knows I’m gonna give it to her. I’ll call her and figure out what she wants and we’ll fix this.” 

She started to fiddle on her phone before Michael pried it out of her hand and threw it on his desk. 

“I don’t give a fuck about what your sister wants right now… I care about what you need.” 

“I don’t really need anything from you or anyone else right now.” Her words clipped and colder than Michael had ever heard her before. “Least of all a damn therapist.” 

Her heart broke at the hurt that flashed across his eyes but she decided that was fine. She needed distance and however she achieved that, even if it was by pushing him away, it would work for her. However, before he could respond, her phone started to buzz loudly on the desk. 

“Speak of the devil.” Michael handed Raven her phone back, her sister’s name popping up across the screen. 

“Hey Kiara.” She put the phone on speaker phone so Michael could hear. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t call me all day, I know you saw the article.” 

Raven and Michael shared a knowing glance that made Michael’s blood boil. She had done this just to outshine Raven who had been in the media and tabloids multiple times in the last week from their trip. Michael had guessed that but knowing her sister went to such lengths to diminish her sister bothered him far more than he could describe. Was there no one in his girl’s life that allowed her to shine? 

“Yea I saw it. I’m sure you also saw that Michael and I weren’t in the country. We just saw it when we landed about an hour ago.” 

“Yea I saw you both... Why didn’t you invite me??” 

Raven let out a small huff. “Do you even have a passport?”

“No… but I could’ve gotten one. it's not fair that you get to go while I’m stuck here. And with my favorite actor. All my friends sending me clips of your stories and pictures and shit. And I didn’t even know you were gonna be there. And I had to lie and tell them that you invited me but I couldn’t go. You don’t include me in shit and you keep makin’ me look fuckin’ stupid. You probably didn’t think about me once!”

“I mean no, you weren’t the first thing that came to mind when my boyfriend invited me on a trip to Paris. I’m allowed to have and enjoy experiences on my own. Also no one forced you to lie, who would have expected you to be invited on a trip with me and my boyfriend?” 

She heard Kiara scoff on the other side of the phone. “‘My boyfriend,’” she mimicked back. “You better enjoy this lil 15 minutes of fame you’re getting from him cause it won’t last. Ain’t like you’re worth his time. He’ll wise up, realize he needs a real woman, a girl like me.” 

“Did you want something?” Raven interrupted, turning her head from Michael so he could not see just how deeply her words cut. She would never argue that she was good enough for the man sitting next to her but hearing someone else validate those insecurities hurt.. Her sister certainly knew which wounds to cut into. “Or was your tell all just to ruin my trip?” 

“Oh well… None of this would’ve happened if you had gotten me even one of the things I asked for weeks ago. Like damn, I know he’s busy but he don’t even have a real job. He could come out and met me when I asked.” 

Michael’s face twisted up in a look of faux offense that would have been a perfect gif, which made the edges of Raven’s lips curl into a small smile as she stifled her laugh. How did he manage to make her smile even when she felt utterly incapable of the action? 

“Acting is a real job, Kiara. And I invited you all here to meet him. But no, I wasn’t gonna ask him to get you a Birkin, I don’t even have a Birkin.”

Michael resisted the urge to cut in and ask her if she wanted one. Because he could easily have one at the house by sunset if she did. 

“Dad and I can’t afford to jet set out to LA… the hotels, the food, all that shit. We’re barely getting by as it is.” 

Raven rolled her eyes. “Barely getting by” when they both worked and Raven often paid most of the major bills. 

As she was talking, Michael gestured for her to mute the phone. “Tell her I’ll pay for the flights and invite them to Thanksgiving.” At Raven’s wary face, Michael just nodded. “Just trust me.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the price of the flights was the issue. H-how about we pay for the flights and your hotel and… you could come for Thanksgiving this year? Michael’s family are great cooks so it’ll be nice. And you can meet him?” 

“Really?? Thanksgiving at Michael’s house?” 

“Yea,” the words were almost painful to get out. Part of her wanted to believe this could be a good thing but the more logical part knew that it would not soften anything between all of them. After all, they were not coming to see her, they were coming to gawk at Michael. “But you can’t talk to the media anymore, Kiara. Seriously, you can meet him and everything but you can’t go give a tell all to TMZ or Page Six or any of them anymore. Understand?” 

“Fineeeee. No more media. I’ll tell dad. Send me the flight and hotel information. Make sure to put us up somewhere nice… you know like the Ritz or a five-star hotel. And can you have a car for us while we’re there? We’re gonna wanna sightsee and everything.” 

“Of course,” she muttered through gritted teeth. 

“Ok. See you then, bye.” 

Raven clenched her phone in her hand, resisting the urge to chuck it across the room. 

“Damn, sis’s got expensive taste,” Michael muttered. 

Raven’s laugh was cold and humorless. “It’s easy to have expensive taste when it’s not your money. You sure about this? Thanksgiving? Here?” 

“What? Thanksgiving is the time people spend with family. We can get a nice group shot and they can feel included. And I’ll get her somethin’ expensive and nice… nothin’ crazy. That’s all she seems to want anyway. Hearing how she talks to you… I don’t want ‘em here anymore than you do but this is the best solution. You had plans or somethin’?” 

“No, no… I just didn’t… I didn’t even know I was invited to the Jordan Family Thanksgiving dinner,” she chuckled, pulling at the sleeve of her jacket awkwardly.  

Michael’s face twisted up in confusion. “Of course you’re invited. Moms would kill me if I didn’t. But yea I guess I should’ve asked if you had plans first. What do you usually do?”  

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Nothing. I order Chinese and I pick a marathon of movies to watch in bed. Same with Christmas except I usually pick a new recipe to try and I always watch the Grinch,” she chuckled. 

“You spend Thanksgiving and Christmas alone?” 

She shrugged and gestured toward her phone. “If you had to pick between alone and that, which would you choose?” At his silence, she nodded. “Exactly. They never want to see me anyway so I make it easy on everyone.” 

“Well, this year’s gonna be different.” 

Raven scoffed. “How so?” 

Michael closed the distance between them and rested his hands on her hips. “Well, one, you’ll have me, which means your family will be on their best behavior. If they aren’t, two, you have me and my family as a buffer. And three, you have me… and I ain’t gon’ tolerate disrespect like that in my house. You say the word and dinner’s over.” 

“You can’t kick people out of your house for me,” she whispered, her eyes avoiding the intense stare in his. 

“Who says I can’t? Thought I’d made that clear by now that I’d do anything for you. And when you’re with me, I’m not just gon’ protect you physically… all of you is safe with me.” 

Those walls she threw up? Already starting to crash down around her. Why does he do this to me?? And why can’t I resist it? She thought to herself as she looked at him. 

“Thank you. But hopefully, they’ll be on their best behavior and then who knows, maybe they’ll see your family and want to turn a new leaf? This could be good?” In her heart, she knew that would not be how this particular story played out but she had to try… had to hope and dream that it could be different. She studied him for a sign that he agreed, and believed her. But he offered her nothing but a peck on the forehead. 

“Yea, maybe.” 

They stood there for a moment before Raven felt the overwhelming urge to run again. She hated this feeling… the contrasting emotions of wanting to melt into him and run from him at full speed. 

“D-do you think Allen would mind taking me home?” 

“I thought you were gonna stay with me tonight?” 

“Yea but I thought we were going to the condo… you want me to stay the night… here?” 

“I just thought after last week…” he stopped himself. “Here is just more comfortable than the condo. Besides, ma asked if you could stay for dinner so she can meet you. Wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you?” At her continued expression of speculation, Michael added. “She also has been buggin’ the hell outta me to meet you so honestly, you’d be savin’ my ass.” 

Raven smiled and nodded. There was not anything but wallowing and frustration waiting for her back at her own apartment. And she had loved falling asleep in Michael’s arms during the last week. She was not ready to fall asleep alone again. 

“Just remember that next time you’re punishing me,” she winked at him. 

“Deal.” 

***

“Bakari!” Donna called over to Michael who was standing outside with his dad overseeing the fried turkey for dinner. 

“What’s up, ma?” He jogged over to her as she continued moving around the kitchen. Michael had offered, as he did every year, to have dinner catered but his mother could not dream of not cooking Thanksgiving dinner with her own two hands. Michael never pressed too hard though because he knew no caterer would ever beat his mom and dad’s cooking. 

“I think a certain girl needs your attention more than your father and that turkey,” she gestured toward Raven whose hands were filled with neatly folded napkins as she sat each one on each place setting around their giant farm style table. 

Michael’s eyes scanned over her body. He could see the tension in her shoulders but she had been tense since they woke up that morning. She had also been quiet all day, simply getting up and heading down to the kitchen to assist his mother. While she was more than happy for the help and it gave the two a chance to chat and bond, Michael knew Raven’s motives were not completely altruistic. She needed the distraction. 

“She’s setting the table, what’s wrong?” 

His mother lowered her voice. “She’s set and reset that table 5 times now in between asking me if I need help 100 times and apologizing for her family being late.” She gestured toward the pitcher which held a fall sangria for dinner. “Poor girl’s been on her feet helpin’ me all day and she’s a dream but she needs to relax. Pour her a drink, get her outta my kitchen, and make her sit down till dinner, please?” 

“Yes ma’am.” He kissed his mom on the cheek before quickly grabbing a glass and pouring a tall drink before walking over to her. 

“I think those napkins will be fine wherever you put them, baby girl,” he whispered in her ear, causing Raven to jump slightly. 

She clutched her chest, glancing down at the table setting and set of napkins in her hand. “Sorry… was in my own head. Something about it still doesn’t look right still,” she whispered as she started to rearrange the setting in front of her again. 

Michael eyed her for a moment before grabbing the things out of her hand and setting them down. He called for his sister to take over setting the table before grabbing Raven’s hand and pulling her behind him into his bedroom upstairs. He closed the door and handed her the glass. 

“Drink.” He instructed. 

Raven took a sip before lowering the glass again to hand back to him. 

“Nope, drink the whole thing and then tell me why you’re so scared.” 

“I’m not scared.” 

“Yea you are. Tell me why.” Michael wasn’t dumb. Raven had been off since her family landed in LA, more tense, quieter and not herself. He wished he could get the version of her from Paris back but that woman was buried deep beneath the seemingly never-ending bull her family put her through. 

Raven took another big gulp of the drink before sitting on the edge of Michael’s bed, her dress riding up her bare thighs slightly. His eyes sparked with lust but he tempered himself. That was not the point of bringing her up here. 

“I’m not… scared. That’s not what it is. I just… Well, first, I’m frustrated because they’re late. I explicitly told them 2 so they could meet everyone and chat and mingle and it’s almost 4. I spent over an hour on that damn charcuterie board. And they haven’t called me or texted or anything. And now your mom probably thinks I was raised by inconsiderate ass wolves.” 

“Rae, my mom doesn’t care in the slightest. Food wasn’t gonna be done at 2 anyway so they haven’t missed anything or messed up anything. And you know that. So what’s really bothering you? We aren’t leaving this room til you tell me.”

She sucked her teeth in annoyance before sighing. She knew he would make good on his promise not to let her leave until she was honest. 

“I’ve lived in LA for years. Did my masters out here, became a published author here, built a life here and you know how many times I’ve asked them to visit? And the first time they come, it's not even to see me. It’s to meet you. They’ve been in LA for 3 whole days… you know they haven’t made an effort to see me once? Never mind the fact that every restaurant they have a reservation to, we booked. Every excursion, you booked and paid for. And it shouldn’t bother me,” she whispered, throwing the entire drink back before wiping the corner of her lips. “It shouldn’t… bother me. Usually it doesn’t bother me. After all, this’s been it, my whole life. But since I met your family… I see how you are with them a-and I spend time with you all and it’s like breathing in rare fresh air? A-and I dunno, it just… the polluted air is a lot harder to breathe in than it used to be.”  

Since they returned from Paris, Raven had become a staple in the Jordan household. They still returned to the condo some nights after dates as it was often easier than getting back to his mansion in the hills. Raven had fallen in love with Michael’s family and it seemed his family had taken quite a liking to her as well. His nephew loved to have Raven read to him as she did the best silly voices, and she, his mom, and sister had already gone out without Michael for manis, pedis, and dinner - with his card, of course. 

Raven would never forget their first dinner the night they got back from Paris. She had been in such a bad mood but ten minutes at the table with Michael’s entire family had lightened her spirits significantly. His dad was charming and told stories that had Raven’s muscles aching from laughter; his mom so sweet and spent half the dinner asking questions about Raven’s book after having it finished it while they were away; his brother was quiet but he and Michael’s friendship made her heart want to melt; and his sister was witty and made Raven want to be her friend immediately. Everytime Raven spent time with them, they made her feel like part of the family. And she fell into it, despite her efforts to avoid it, with ease, like she had been part of the fabric for years. It caused some guilt to swell as she remembered that the girl they loved so much was a lie and that she and Michael were deceiving them. However, as her own family continued to disappoint her, it was nice to be a part of something so pure and loving. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Michael’s sister poked her head into the room. “But your family’s car just pulled up.” 

Raven immediately stood up and handed the wine glass back to Michael. She went over to the full-length mirror in his room to adjust her outfit and ensure she looked perfect before putting on the most forced smile Michael had ever seen grace her lips. 

“Come on, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” 

Michael grabbed her arm to stop her as she tried to walk around him. 

“I told myself I’d stay out of it… your family, your rules. But word of advice, if you’ll let me?” When she said nothing, he continued. “People treat you how you allow them. And just because you’ve allowed this disregard for 30 years doesn’t mean you have to allow it now or that you deserve it. It hurts more now because you know you deserve more. And you’ve experienced more. So demand more.” 

“And if they don’t give it?” Raven’s voice broke slightly with that question because she knew what his answer would be, what she should have done many years ago but did not have the courage to do.  

“Somethin’ isn’t always better than nothin’. Especially when that somethin’ is just dead weight you have to drag around behind you. No one ever got far with dead weight.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, Raven desperately wanting to melt into him and the comfort he provided. He laced his fingers in hers and kissed her hand. “That’s all I’m gonna say. We’re gonna have a good time, promise. You’re with me so you know I gotchu. You ready?” 

“Yea, I think so,” she smiled at him before following him out of his room and downstairs. 

As they descended the stairs, she was unsurprised to find the deep baritone of her father filling the foyer of Michael’s mansion as he greeted everyone. Raven fixed her face to maintain a smile as she and Michael finally made it to the bottom of the stairs. She could feel her sister’s eyes studying her, taking in her designer dress, the signature red bottoms of her heels, and the diamond necklace and earrings glistening against her skin that Michael had bought her in Paris. It may have been a role, but Raven could not lie, she enjoyed dressing the part of a movie star’s girlfriend more than she thought she would. A petty part of her also did not hate the way her sister’s nose seemed to flare with jealousy at it. 

“How y’all doin? I’m Michael?” Michael stepped forward and offered her father and sister a hug. 

Raven’s eyes narrowed as her sister tried to linger in the very chaste hug Michael offered. Neither of them acknowledged her as they introduced themselves to Michael and his family, Raven awkwardly teetering on her heels behind him. 

“It’s so great to meet you, son. Loved that Tom Clancy movie of yours. Watch it all the time,” her dad boasted as if he was Michael’s greatest fan. 

Raven rolled her eyes behind Michael, knowing how much he hated when the first thing out of someone’s mouth when he meets them is their favorite role of his. 

“Thank you, thank you. That was a fun one.” Michael reached behind him and pulled Raven to his side. He protectively tucked her under his arm and smiled down at her. “Great girl you have here.” 

“Hey dad,” Raven offered, stepping forward to accept the half hug her father offered. She knew it was merely for show but she accepted it anyway. “Kiara,” her tone made her seem far more excited to see both of them than she was. But unlike her family, she was painfully aware of the studious eyes of Michael’s family watching them. And while their foundation had cracks the size of the Grand Canyon in it, she did not want Michael’s family to see them. 

Her sister could not even stop eye fucking Michael long enough to give her a hug. She merely nodded in her direction. 

Michael, thankfully, ended the awkward silence between the family members by gesturing for everyone to follow him to the kitchen. There, the island was heavily laden with food that his mom deemed ready to serve. Everyone grabbed serving dishes and started helping move things to the table. Seeing an opportunity to grab her father and her sister, Raven pulled them off to the side for a moment while Michael’s family got ready for dinner. 

There was an awkward silence as the three of them stood in Michael’s living room before Raven found her voice again. She did not know why she was nervous, this was her family after all. 

“Just wanted to see how the trip’s going? A-and ask if y’all had plans tomorrow. Thought maybe, you could come see my apartment? And then maybe we could go hiking to the Hollywood sign, it’s such a nice view of the city. And Michael got us all reservations at a new Japanese spot tomorrow night.” 

Kiara turned her nose up at the mere idea. “Hiking?? No. Dad’s taking me shopping tomorrow on Rodeo Drive. It’ll probably take up the whole day, sorry. But dinner with Michael sounds good.” 

Raven’s heart deflated a bit. Another outstretched hand pushed away. “Oh… yea of course. Shopping sounds fun. Maybe I could meet you all?” 

“That’s ok. We know you’re busy,” her dad interjected, waving his hand to dismiss her suggestion. 

“Oh… well, it’s just… you leave Saturday, I wanted to spend some time with y’all before you leave? I tried calling you both, I haven’t seen you all week. I invited you all out here, thought we’d get to at least spend a little time together before you leave.” 

“We’re spending time together right now. We’ve been really busy. We came to meet Michael and enjoy the city. That’s what we’ve been doing. Besides, we all know Michael paid for us to come, not you.”

Raven scoffed, already frustrated and they had not been there for more than 5 minutes. She regretted everything about this plan. Her time with Michael’s family, this sanctuary she had found with them in his home, now felt tainted as if their mere presence had poisoned that sweet, fresh air. She knew she should have been more excited to see them, after all, it had been longer than she could remember since she saw them in the flesh. But now, that small part of her that never wanted to see them again only seemed to get larger and larger with every moment she stood in their presence. 

Why do you even bother?

“Oh, should I start itemizing everything I’ve paid for in the last decade? Is that the best way to get yall to, you know, actually care to spend time with me? I mean I’ve been asking y’all to come out this way for years. I just thought… since we haven’t really seen each other in a while, this could be a good chance to reconnect. But shopping is more important than me, everything seems to be,” she muttered more to herself than to them. Before her sister could cut in with another smart comment, Raven added. “Can you make sure to thank Michael for this trip you’re enjoying so much? He really went all out of y’all.”

“You don’t need to lecture me on good manners, Raven. I did raise you both,” her father spoke up, clearly annoyed and bored of this conversation. 

Raven bit down the retort that she was not sure please and thank you were even phrases in their vocabulary and just nodded. 

“Is that all?” her sister asked cooly. 

“Yea, yea that’s all.” 

Both of them immediately left to return to the dining room where Michael’s family gathered, leaving Raven in the living room. She let out a deep shaky breath as a welcomed face popped out around the corner. However, she cringed slightly, fearful that he heard that entire exchange. 

She walked over to him, Michael immediately pulling her into a tight embrace. Her head thudded against his chest. “Please tell me you didn’t hear any of that.” 

“Don’t think me lying to you is gonna make you feel any better.” His fingers brushed aside the curls that spilled into her face. .

His hand rubbed soothing circles into her back before he kissed her on the top of her head. This time Raven did not even attempt to shy away, she fully melted into his embrace, at least as much as she could without breaking down. 

“Say the word and they’re gone,” he reminded her, leaning back so he could look in her eyes. 

Raven could tell he was completely serious, that he would kick both of them out without a second thought or a care. However, she knew that was not a possibility. 

“As much as I hate it, we need them, remember?” She sighed. “For once, I do actually need them. So I’m gonna do what I’ve always done.”

“And what’s that?” 

She shrugged, pulling herself out of his embrace. “Suffer through it.” She answered simply. 

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Keep my glass full,” she answered bluntly. “I can already tell it’s gonna be a long fucking afternoon.”

***

“So Kiara, what do you do?” Donna asked as she sat down from transitioning the dinner dishes out and replacing them with dessert. 

Raven did not know how she was going to eat the slice of apple pie Michael cut for her. Everything had been so delicious, she had eaten two plates and would have gotten a third if her sister had not made a backhanded, loud compliment about her food and her figure. While she could count the number of plates she had eaten with ease, the same could not be said for the glasses of sangria. 

She had not lied when she said she needed it. Tipsy Raven cared far less about her sister’s consistent jabs to make her feel inferior and puff herself up to Michael nor did she care about how her father objectively ignored her for the entire dinner. He talked of her and around her but not once did he direct a question or comment to her. She could not tell which slight bothered her more, the disrespect or the disregard.  

“I was doing hair for a while but I really love to cook so I’m going back to school to be a chef.” 

Everyone around the table offered the appropriate congratulations and well wishes while Raven merely smiled and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Kiara changed career paths about as often as she changed boyfriends, which was damn near monthly. Being a chef was just another way to throw her dad and Raven’s money down the toilet. 

“Once I finish school, maybe you can float some clients my way? My dream is to be a personal chef.” 

Raven downed her glass before filling it again. She found that drinking was the only way to stop herself from commenting on everything they did that frustrated her. However, that was an incredibly foolish drinking game to play. Because everything they did today seemed to frustrate her, every slight seemed amplified now that it was in the presence of Michael and his family. Each one fueled that anger she often ignored and suppressed. She should have known this was coming, that they would try to ask him for favors. She didn’t even ask him for favors. All they did was take and it was one thing to do that to her, but Michael did not deserve it. 

You don’t deserve it either, a small voice that sounded oddly like the man sitting next to her reminded her. 

“Maybe finish school first before you start chatting up my man for clients,” Raven teased, keeping her tone light and playful though she knew Kiara could see the lack of amusement in her eyes. 

“Well, we all gotta start somewhere right? Can’t all be big time like you, sis?” 

Raven smiled, “Well, you can be if you work hard… and don't rely on boyfriends, dad and I for everything,” she added the last part under her breath, however, she knew her sister could hear her. Michael’s hand went to rest of her thigh as if he could sense the change in her demeanor and mood almost immediately. 

“Oh we loved Raven’s book,” Donna offered, transitioning the conversation away from her sister. “Such a talented and vivid writer. I probably talked the poor girl’s ear off when we first met about it. Was she always like that?” 

Raven’s dad chuckled. “Yea she always had her nose buried in a book or a notebook writing somethin. She used to write these little short stories, got a drawer full of ‘em back at the house.” 

“That’s so sweet. I’m not much of a fantasy reader,” Donna admitted. “But she had me hooked from the first chapter. Such a beautiful story.” 

“Yea the book was really great,” he added lamely, unable to offer much beyond that because, as Raven knew, he had not read her book. “I always encouraged them both to follow their dreams, great to see her accomplish so much.” 

Something about hearing him talk about her passion, her life’s work, the thing she tolled and fought for and had to give up, as if he cared about it at all made all those years of suppressed rage finally boil over. She could suffer through a lot, it was true, but she could not listen to that, listen to him lie and pretend to be supportive or caring when he was nothing of the sort. And now, she did not even care who knew it. This was simply not a piece of fiction she would allow him to sell.  

“What was your favorite part of the book, dad?” Raven had not said much throughout dinner, allowing her sister to monopolize most of the conversation. However, it seemed as though Michael was the only person who realized the unfortunate turn their Thanksgiving dinner was about to take. He leaned in closer to her, quietly whispering in her ear but he knew his sweet nothings meant just that at this point: nothing. She was too far gone to hear them or register them. Her body felt as if it was almost vibrating with rage. He wished he could take her outside and give her a few plates to smash but he knew his mom would not appreciate that. 

“Oh all of it. Whole thing was great.” 

“Huh…” she muttered, taking a long gulp of her drink before reaching for the pitcher to refill it. “Who’s your favorite character?” 

“Maybe we should slow down on…” Michael quietly whispered in her ear, subtly trying to beat her to the pitcher but she grabbed it first and poured another large glass. She raised her hand to stop his sentence. 

“Didn’t realize there’d be a pop quiz,” he let out a deep chuckle as the tension around the table grew to levels that were impossible to ignore. 

“Not a pop quiz. Just tell me one thing about the book you loved so much and encouraged me to write. Favorite plot twist, favorite scene, favorite character… hell, name one character you remember at all?”

“What the fuck, Rae? What’s your problem?” 

Raven let out a humorless laugh as she leaned back in her seat. She downed her entire drink in one go, sitting the glass down before folding her arms casually. 

“What’s my problem? What’s my problem? Right now, my problem is this fiction you’re spinning as if you give a rat’s ass about my book, my career, or me when if someone put a gun to your head, you wouldn’t be able to tell them the name of my book, let alone anything about it. My problem is the fact that I invited you all here to spend time with me, my boyfriend, and his family, all for you to ignore me for most of dinner. My problem is that you wax poetic about stories I wrote as a kid when, if you had ever bothered to read a single one of them, you would have seen a child writing herself into literally any other world and family to escape the pitiful one she had. I have a lot of problems, too many to list right now. But the common denominator in all of them is you two.” 

Everyone’s movements and side conversations halted at her outburst. The silence and her deep breaths were only interrupted by Michael’s brother accidentally dropping his fork against his dinner china, the loud clanging filling everyone’s ears as they stared at Raven and her father.

She was not one to start a scene or draw attention to herself. But she could not let any of this go on for another moment. 

“Baby… why don’t we take a break for a minute?” Michael asked, standing to pull her chair out. Raven knew that if she sat there for a minute longer, she’d lose whatever little composure she had left, so she forced herself to heed Michael’s advice. She wiped her lips and immediately threw her napkin down on the table to stand and leave. 

“Excuse me.” 

However, as she turned around, she heard her father’s voice. 

“I didn’t mean to cause an issue. I tried my best with her and Kiara but you know, some kids are just harder to handle than others.”

As soon as those words hit her ears, she exploded. Before she even realized it, she had returned to the table and was leaning over it yelling at her father. 

“‘You tried your best??’ YOU TRIED YOUR BEST? You never tried! All you’ve done is give the bare minimum and suffer through my presence like I’m was a fuckin’ pest you couldn’t get rid of!” 

“You think you can talk to me that way? I’m still your father! All I’ve ever done is love you and take care of you.” 

Raven scoffed, throwing her hands in the air. Michael shifted so he was standing behind her, an arm wrapped around her waist as if to stop her from jumping across the table. It was not that he thought she would actually do anything, baby girl did not seem like the scrapping type. But he prayed his presence would calm her down if nothing else. This was a side of her he had never seen before. He could not lie, it was kinda sexy, seeing her finally stick up for herself and be assertive. 

In a part of her brain that felt distant and detached, she could feel Michael’s presence, hear his soft whispers to calm down. And she knew and appreciated what he was trying to do: stop her from doing something she’d ultimately regret. But at that moment, she did not know if she wanted to be stopped.

“All you’ve ever done is give me scraps! Scraps of support, scraps of your attention, but not an ounce of your love or affection. All to punish me for the sin of being born.” She had always bought into her family’s narrative that she was to blame for what happened. But it was as if the small voice that nagged at her her entire life was finally roaring. This was not her fault. No part of it was. “You can’t be mad at God for that shitty situation and you won’t be mad at mom for making her choice. So for 30 years, I’ve endured you hating me because you needed someone to be mad at. When you ignored birthday after birthday and accomplishment after accomplishment and need after need, I persisted in trying to win your love and win your affection. When you threw me out and cut me off after one year of college, I dusted myself off and kept going. When you rebuffed every attempt to reconnect and build a new relationship, I kept reaching out, kept trying. When you ignored me on every holiday and at every visit and everything, I still showed up. And when you ask for everything I have despite not deserving a cent of it, I give it. Every single time. Even after I lost my book deal last year and my career and didn’t know how I was gonna pinch pennies together for rent, I put myself and my needs last to help you two every single fuckin’ time. And you both expect me to be gracious for scraps while I kill myself to give you the Sun, Moon and stars and you take and you take and you take without so much as a thank you.” Every ‘take’ punctured by her hand slamming down on the farm-style dining table. “It’s not enough and I refuse to spend the next 30 years pretending it is. I’m done!” 

“God, you’re such an embarrassment,” Kiara muttered. 

“Oh fuck you, Kiara!” She cried out. “You miserable, attention-seeking bitch. You can say whatever you want about me but unlike you, I made something of my life and I did it all on my own. Meanwhile, you float through life without a single responsibility or thing to your name that someone else didn’t give you. And you can’t stand the fact that my life, despite both of your best efforts, is better than yours.” 

“Wow. Nice to know how you really feel about your family.” 

“I’ve never had a family. You both made damn sure of that. You want me out of your lives so bad? Fine. I’m out. Let’s see how far both of you get without taking from me. Get out. Both of you.” 

Raven had no authority to kick someone out of a house that was not even hers but she could not hope to care. She knew Michael would not argue with her or lobby for them to stay after she just cussed them out six ways to Sunday in front of his entire family. 

“You can’t kick us out!” 

“Yes she can,” Michael piped up, speaking for the first time since the blow up began. 

The intense stare down continued before her father and sister angrily stood up and stalked to the door. 

“And Kiara!” Her sister stopped walking to turn around to her. “Say another word about me or my relationship to the media and I won’t hesitate to tell this entire world what a shitty person and sister you are. See how your friends like that story then.”

Her sister merely glared at her before stomping out of the house behind their father. As soon as she heard the door shut, Raven felt the adrenaline in her system crash and the weight of what just happened set in. 

What the fuck did you just do? And in front of Michael’s family? 

She let out a shaky breath as a wave of shame hit her. “U-Um… I am… I am s-so so so sorry,” she whispered. She rang her hands together, unable to make eye contact with anyone in the room. She had not felt this embarrassed in a long time. “I-I should go too.” She pulled herself away from Michael and tried to race toward the door, ignoring his calls for her to stay. However, before she could leave the dining room, Michael’s mom stopped her. 

She grabbed the young woman’s hands and patted them softly. 

“No, no you aren’t. No one leaves my table till dessert is over. You’re gonna sit and finish your pie with family.” 

The tears brimming in Raven’s eyes spilled over. 

“I-I’m sorry for r-ruining dinner.” 

The older woman laughed. “That ain’t the first blow up this family’s seen at a dinner table… won’t be the last. Go on and sit down.” 

She steered Raven’s body back into Michael’s arms who pulled back her chair for her to sit. She ate her pie in silence, conversation flowing with ease around her. The Jordans acted as if her meltdown was just par the course, though she knew they were likely just trying to make her feel better. But still, she appreciated it. Within 15 minutes of eating dessert, the mood across the table felt lighter and easier than it had all day. Raven calmed down enough to laugh and joke. By the end of several rounds of drinks and a very rowdy spades game to cap off the evening, Raven’s heart and soul also felt lighter than they had in years.  

However, that quickly ended when she and Michael finally retreated to his suite for the evening. She collapsed onto the edge of his bed and kicked off her shoes, her movements sluggish and slow as if the weight of what she had done was finally creeping on her now that she was alone. 

“I’m… alone,” she whispered to herself. 

“What?” Michael crouched down in front of her, her eyes misting over slightly as she realized the truth. 

“I’ve always been alone for the most part… after my grandma died. And I couldn’t keep a relationship going for long ever. It’s always just been… me. But it was ok because even though they were awful, I still had… family a-and there was still hope that it could be something. But now… now I have no one cause they’ll never come around after what I said to them.” She rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hand. “I don’t regret it, I was holding on to something that just wasn’t ever gonna be anything. But the dead weight was… something? Didn’t expect how empty I’d feel without it.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes. “It’s stupid,” she whispered. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat and stood up to walk to his bathroom. “Give me a minute to get my life together and then we can do what you actually pay me for and not this sad shit.”  

Michael watched as she dapped her eyes in the mirror to rid them of tears before she reached behind her and pulled down the zipper of her dress. She looked gorgeous, her body clad in another one of her lingerie sets from Paris. This one was a nude brown that perfectly matched her skin. He knew she was merely trying to use sex to move on and forget, and he would oblige. But he could not do so without saying one thing.

“You have me.” It was not a question, but a firm statement. A matter of fact statement that left no room for arguments or questions. 

Raven’s hands paused as she tried to fix her hair for a few minutes. She turned and smiled at him, closing the distance between them. 

“Yea I have you… But this’ll end and you’ll find the right girl for you and then…”she shook her head, not wanting to think about that: being alone or being without him. “Thank you… for today.” 

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Usually, Michael initiated their kisses and they were domineering, hurried and passionate. While this moment held the same passion, it was slow and measured, each second inching past them. And Raven used every second to convey what her simple thank you could not. She prayed he felt it and appreciated it, because at that moment, the small action was all she had left to give. She did not have the energy for grand speeches or words. 

She broke off their kiss and slid down to her knees, assuming the same position she did almost every time they had sex.

However, tonight, Michael decided he needed something different, that she needed something different. His finger gently lifted her chin so her eyes were on him.  

“You take care of me every time we have sex. Let me take care of you for once.” 

He did not let her question it as he helped her to her feet and led her to his bed, gently pushing her down. She let out a dramatic huff that made him chuckle. 

He stood over her for a moment, his eyes taking in the hills of her breasts, the soft panes of her stomach, her thick plush thighs. He often found himself just staring at her and this moment was no different, moments where he wanted to commit her beauty to memory, burn her image in his brain matter. 

“You are fuckin’ gorgeous,” he whispered. “You know how beautiful you are?” he asked as he sucked on the skin of her neck. 

She turned her head, giving him more access to the skin of her neck as he sucked and bit. She whimpered slightly as his kisses moved down her body, savoring the taste of her soft supple skin. He took his time, however, this felt completely different than when he teased her. Then, he was purposefully avoiding giving her what she wanted. Now, her moans created the roadmap he followed. His lips and hands lingered where she needed them to, only pausing to shower her with praises. As his kisses continued, Raven lost all control of her senses, of the world around her. Everything else, the pain and emotions of the day faded away as every thought in her mind and every cell in her physical body turned their focus on him.

“I love everything about you. The way you moan, the way you beg me for more, the face you make when I make you cum.”

“Michael, please,” she whimpered.  

He paused his ministrations and grasped her chin with a featherlike touch, her eyes focusing on him. 

“I’m gonna take care you, I promise. Always. Trust me.” He hoped that the look in his eyes conveyed the truth, that her pleasure was not the only part of her he would take care of. He would worship and care for her mind, body, and spirit. 

His fingers hooked into her lace panties and slid them off, settling between her plush thighs for his favorite meal of the day. Her eyes clenched shut as he spelled his adoration and love for her with his tongue on her clit. Michael had always been a generous lover but river always bent toward his pleasure. Every action, while it brought her pleasure, carried the reminder that it was not for her pleasure, it was for his. And she loved it, craved it, got off on it. It was one of the benefits of the arrangement to her. 

But it had been so long since she had had sex like this, where the river flowed toward her and only her, where someone was so committed to bringing her mind numbing pleasure and ensuring she knew she was cared for and safe. She knew why he was doing it, after seeing how unsafe she was with her own family. She knew it was not real but she could not close the gates to her heart fast enough and stop herself from feeling it, from enjoying it. Every touch was gentle and sweet and let her know she was safe in his arms, safe in his sanctuary. And even though she knew she could not stay there with him forever, she loved him even more for letting her in from the cold for a moment. 

Michael’s eyes never left her face as he devoured her, every moan, groan, and plea for mercy spurred him on. Her thighs clamped around his head as he pushed her farther and farther up her mountain to the peak of desire. He knew Raven’s body almost as well as he knew his own now, increasing his speed and efforts when he felt her legs shake and heard her moans grow louder. 

It did not take much longer for Raven to feel the snap of a powerful orgasm crash over her. She let out a continuous stream of praise and lewd words as she road those waves of sweet bliss. 

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Fuck, you taste so good.” He emerged from between her legs, kissing her deeply. 

He wrapped his arm around her waist and used his strength to hoist her farther up onto the bed. He placed her legs on his shoulders and lined himself up with her entrance. Raven offered him a raised eyebrow at the position choice, she could not remember the last time they did missionary on the bed like this. On creative surfaces, like tables? Sure. 

“I wanna look you in the eye when I make you cum. Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he whispered, Raven’s heart’s fluttering as she felt him fill her to the brim. 

“Fuckkkk,” she cried out as he drove into her deeply. Every stroke felt like heaven, a promised land he was so graciously sending her to. There was a vulnerability to the position that she had not expected, the way he looked at her with every thrust forward and retreat. 

“Look at me.” He demanded as her eyes fluttered closed. As soon as her eyes were trained on his, he uttered three words Raven never would have thought to hear from his lips. “I love you.” 

Raven was rendered speechless, her moans catching in her throat as she felt her stomach drop 100 stories. 

Did he say what I think he said? She thought to herself, her brain trying to cut through layers of pleasure fog to work properly. 

“You deserve the entire world, Rae. You deserve someone who’ll  give you this world… the sun, the moon, and the stars. And I don’t deserve you, I don’t deserve this. But I’ll spend everything I have, I’ll give everything I am to make sure you got it. I want more than an arrangement and six months with you… I want you, all of you, for as long as you’ll allow me.” 

His words directly clashed with the narrative she had in her mind, the seeds of doubt life and her family had sowed. And despite her heart begging her to scream the words back at him, those doubts stopped her. She heard his words but she did not believe them or rather, she could not believe them.  

She did love him, she was so in love with him. It was a devastating, beautiful, painful, once-in-a-lifetime sort of love she thought she would only read in the pages of love stories. But she felt it… every devastatingly beautiful moment of it every time she was in his presence, every time she felt his touch, every time he comforted her or looked into her eyes. 

But the words, those three precious words, were stuck in her throat. A barrier of fear and doubt, made even heavier by the events of the day, weighed them down. Instead of celebrating that the man she so desperately loved felt the same about her, she could only focus on how that just could not simply be true. The story she had built in her mind that she was not good enough, that she did not deserve him, that he could never love her, a part of her brain clung to it as a lifeline. She had given Michael this grand speech about living and falling but she could not do it herself. Because if she gave in and  allowed him to love her, truly love her, and then this was all a lie? That was the crash she did not think she could survive. She could handle her family hurting her. It knocked her down but she could always get back up again. But Michael? He would be her armageddon. If he hurt her, she would not get back up again. 

The avalanche was hurling toward her once again, only this time she was standing at the bottom without a barrier or way to outrun it. She was mere feet away from being swept up by it and all the emotion and vulnerability it brought in its wake. The day had just been too much, too heavy. And emotionally, she had not been prepared for any of the twists and turns the day had brought. She suddenly felt overwhelmed, so out of control of everything, particularly her emotions, the one thing she usually had under control. 

She felt tears sting the back of her eyes but she knew they were not good tears, the tears Michael usually induced during sex. No, these were entirely different. She quickly realized she needed a break, a moment. And the only thing in this world that she could control in this particular moment was the man above her. He was the catalyst every single time, the cannon blast that started the avalanche, that forced her to feel everything all at once. And she needed that to stop. She needed him to stop. 

“Wakanda…” she choked out, her voice as broken and small as she felt. 

She did not have a chance to repeat it as Michael immediately stopped his movements in mid stroke, his face stricken and concerned. 

“Shit.” He slid out of her without a second thought  and braced himself over her, shocked to find tears streaming down her face, her body trembling. He  immediately grabbed the blanket that was hanging half off the bed, wrapping her nude form tightly in it. “Hey, hey. You’re ok, you’re ok. You’re having a panic attack. Deep breaths for me.”

Raven curled into a small ball under the blanket, gasping for breath. Michael pressed her hand into his chest. 

“Focus on me, baby girl. That’s it. Deep breaths.” 

She closed her eyes and focused on the faint thumps of his heart in his chest, the way it rose and fell against her hand as she tried to sync up her breathing to his. He held tightly to her hand as she took long deep breaths. It felt like hours passed before either of them moved, before she felt calm enough to speak, but she knew it had likely only been a few minutes. 

“First a concussion,” she wiped her tears. “And now, a panic attack. I must be the worst woman you’ve ever had sex with,” she let out a watery chuckle. 

“Or the best?” he offered in a voice so gentle and quiet, it made a new set of tears well up in her eyes. She did not deserve him. “What happened? Did I hurt you?” 

She shook her head. “N-no, you d-didn’t. I j-just couldn’t… you can’t look at me l-like that o-or keep doing stuff l-like this. Pretending you love me just to make me feel b-better.” She shook her head rapidly. “I know you feel obligated to be g-gentle and shit when I’m having a bad day. But i-it’s just confusing. I know t-this isn’t real a-and I c-cant take anyone else pretending to love me or care about me when they r-really don’t.”  

“I’ve never done anything for you that I didn’t want to do, Raven. I’m not kind and gentle with you because I feel obligated. I’m kind and gentle because I want to be, because you deserve it. Do you find yourself so undeserving of all these things that it is that hard to believe that I’m in love with you? That I do all this shit for you because this is real to me??” 

“There’s no way that is true! You don’t love me!” She argued. 

“Yes I do!” 

Raven wanted to pull her hair out and scream at him. “Stop saying that! W-we are just fantasies to each other, Michael! P-playing a role that the other needs filled and j-just because the fantasy is nice, doesn’t mean I should kid myself into believing it is real. You’ll toss me aside as soon as this agreement is done because everything you feel is based on a fantasy!”

“You aren’t some fantasy to me, Raven!” 

“Fine! Not a fantasy! But everything we are is conditional… even you have to admit that. I mean we have a fuckin’ contract! Everything we are is based on me fulfilling those conditions! You can dress me up like a girlfriend but I know what I am when the cameras go away, Michael. I’m the girl you met in a hotel who was paid to fuck you!” 

He jumped off the bed and grabbed his phone, thrusting it into her hand. “Robert Pearson. Call him.” 

“W-who is that?” she asked, completely bewildered by the change in the conversation. 

“He’s one of the top reporters at TMZ. Call him, call him right now and tell him this whole thing is a fuckin’ sham. Hell, want me to start an Instagram live for you so you can tell the whole fucking world? I’ll do it.” 

She threw the phone back on the bed and stood up, wrapping the blanket around her like a dress. “I’m not gonna fucking call anyone or do that!” 

“But you could! That’s my point! You could call TMZ right now and tell him this whole thing was a sham, sell a fuckin’ tell all and I’d still love you. I’d honestly thank you for it because then I wouldn’t have to pretend I only love you because of some arrangement. I could admit that I love you for you. I love you for your vulnerability, your spirit, the fact that you give and you give and expect nothing in return and don’t even stop giving all of yourself when everyone else would. I love that you talk in fuckin’ sonnets and monologues. I love your relentless optimism and hope. I love your smile, the way you can’t look someone in the eye when they compliment you but it lights up your entire being. I love that you’ve got a wild imagination and you're quirky and funny and…” he threw his hands up in the air. “I. Love. You. I am in love with you. You can keep telling me to stop saying it, you can ignore it, pretend you don’t hear it, you can reject it. But it won’t change it. I love you. No conditions, no expectations. Just you for you. The question is do you love me?” he demanded. 

“It’s not that simple!” She tried to move around him but he blocked her way. She needed to get out of her, needed to escape this chaos. “Move, Michael.” 

“No! It is that simple. Do you love me? Forget everythin’ else. What you think you do and don’t deserve. Do. You. Love. Me?” 

“Of course, I fuckin’ love you!” she cried out. “I fell in love with you the morning I woke up with a concussion and you were sitting in my hospital room. I love you! But t-there’s… no one loves me like that. What you’re claiming to feel… no one feels that for me a-and there’s no way that you, a man who could get any one of the billions of women on this planet, would be the first. There’s no way you would settle for loving me.” She let out a deep sigh. “A-and my heart can’t take it… I can’t take the rejection and pain from people I love who don’t love me back anymore. I c-can’t. Which means I can’t believe that you love me. I’ve taken all I can take a-and if I accept that you love me, then I risk you rejecting o-or hurting me. And when you do, it’ll kill me.” The last word hung in the air as she sank down to the floor by his bed, her head buried in her hands. 

Michael settled down on the floor next to her, his hand grasping hers as he intertwined their fingers. There was so much to unpack in her words, so much that he knew he would not be able to convince her of or solve in one night. But there was one thing he knew he could assure her of right then and there. 

“There were a hundred ways I could’ve spun what happened between us that first night, hundreds of ways I could’ve dealt with you that would not have led us to this moment. But I chose the road I chose, not so I could have a body to use or fix a crisis. But because you stole my soul the moment you turned around in that hotel room. Loving you isn’t fuckin’ settling, it’s everythin’ I’ve wanted for damn near a decade but didn’t think I could have again. We’ve been standing on the edge of this cliff, waiting for the other to be ready to jump for months now. And I’m ready and you’re holdin’ on for dear fuckin’ life. I’m askin’ you to let go and trust that I won’t hurt you. I know that’s scary… shit I’m scared too. But I’m willing to jump if you are.” His thumb wiped away her falling tears before kissing her on the forehead. “I’m not lookin’ for an answer tonight, love. I know today… this week’s been a lot for you. I didn’t mean to add another thing on top of all the other shit, I just… needed you to know how I felt.” 

“Don’t… don’t apologize. I-I j-just got overwhelmed b-by everything. It’s been a day of unexpected emotional confessions,” she chuckled. “I…” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m really scared. Scared of being hurt, scared of falling even more in love with you a-and another good thing being taken from me. B-But I want this for real with you too. I don’t wanna keep pretending what we have isn’t real when we know it is. If you’re ready to jump, so am I. And we can just be scaredy cats while we fall together?” 

He pulled her into his lap and pressed his lips to hers softly. “Not a fan of you callin’ me a  scaredy cat,” he teased. “But yea. I meant it when I told you, you’re safe with me. All of you. And I’ll do whatever I gotta do to make sure you believe that shit.” 

Her heart fluttered a bit. She knew he meant his words. If there was one thing she had always been with Michael, it was safe. And she adored that about him. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

“I love the way that shit sounds. Say it again.” . 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” her lips tugged upward into a grin as he started peppering her face with kisses and having her repeat the phrase over and over again. He picked them both off the ground and continued kissing her and causing her to giggle as he placed her back in bed. 

He settled her under the covers and pulled her tightly into his arms. Their legs were quickly tangled in each other’s as she laid her head on his chest. They laid there in silence for a while before Raven sat up. As much as she enjoyed cuddling in his arms, Raven wanted more. Emboldened by their confessions of love, she pushed herself to her knees and straddled his hips. 

“You used your safe word. We ain’t gotta…” she pressed a finger to his lips stopping him. 

“I know what I want and need, Bakari,” she whispered, using his nickname, which was only reserved for family and close friends for the first time. Michael was not much of a crier but hearing his nickname on her lips made his heart skip one or two beats, made tears sting the back of his eyes.  “And I want you. You showed me how much you loved me… now let me show you.” She gave him a sly smirk before shifting between his legs to taste him. 

The pair lost track of how many times they moaned or screamed those three magic words to each other. But by the time they were finished, their bodies a tangled mess of limbs and bodily fluid, Raven knew, in her heart, that his words were true. And so she fell asleep nestled in his warm embrace, feeling true happiness with anther person for the first time in her life.

Tag List: @readinghere2023 @blackerthings @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @physicxal @purplehairgawdess @miyuhpapayuh @rueruesclues @geemamii @certifiedlesbianbaddie @pipsqueak-98 @nyifly22 @destinio1 @twocentaur @gopaperless @musicisme333 @roguekiki @majesticbrownjawn @taurusqueen83 @mysteryuz @miamormilan @itsknor-thedeep @naj-ay444 @mads-grace4 @nayaesworld @kholdkill @msniaimani @nccu-rnc @apenasumlug4r

***

A/N: The babes finally confessed their love for each other!!! Woohoo! How do you think our two lovebirds make the jump from fake romance to a real relationship? Thank you for reading! Drop a comment and let me know what you thought :)

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #michael b jordan x reader #mbjordanedit #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #creed 3 #adonis creed #creed iii

[zeroeightzeroone]

hi! so idk if your request are open so if they aren’t feel free do delete this

so we know that in the love collection y/n and jisung feel really comfortable around each other and will go to each other for things but what if one day y/n didn’t tell jisung how she was feeling that day and cried in her room by herself? i just wanted to see how he’d react to that and his response

again u don’t have to respond to this!! ty ^__^

all ears - han jisung

love collection

genre: comfort, maybe a bit of angst?

pairings: fem!reader (infp) x idol!han jisung (istp)

warnings: readers' insecurities getting the best of her, self-deprecating language

notes: thank you for requesting!! i hope i did your request justice. (finally revealing y/n's roommate too)

wc ~2.9k | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:

you feel dumb.

you feel stupid, absolutely stupid.

you hate the feeling with the utmost passion, but regardless of how much you detest it, it always seems to find a way back to haunt you months later, coming out from the depths of your mind into the forefront and creating a storm up there.

they're stupid thoughts.

thoughts that you shouldn't let get to you, but sometimes you can't help it. sometimes, they overpower you and silence your pleas to stop.

have you spoken to anyone about it? no.

your roommate, yunjin, has been on a work trip for the past couple of weeks, so you've had the apartment to yourself. no need to mask your emotions when you're home alone. on the other hand, jisung's schedule has been packed lately, and there is nothing new in his line of work. seungmin is on the same boat as your boyfriend; both share busy and separate schedules.

everyone has a busy life, and you don't want to burden them with things happening in your life.

when the b-word comes up in your passing thoughts, you can practically hear your boyfriend saying, "y/n, my love, don't invalidate yourself like that. you're not a burden, never. you're important to me; your thoughts and feelings are all important."

jisung always reminds you of how important you are to him. you know you could go to him for anything, and he'll be there to the best of his ability.

that's one of the many reasons why you love him so much.

the knowledge that he's there for you is one thing, but the one thing holding you back is yourself.

when you're in such a low and vulnerable state, you tend to shut yourself in, keep to yourself, and shield yourself away from others. you see yourself as an inconvenience or a burden.

the way you've rationalized it in your mind is that if you're tired of the shit happening in your own life, telling it to someone else would only tire them out as well. you didn't want them to grow tired on your behalf. it didn't seem worth it.

that feeling of self-doubt always pushes itself into the front lines from where it usually hides, creeping in the back.

you wanted to try and cope alone, get through this on your own, but you just couldn't. you tried to tell yourself it's no big deal and that they're just fleeting, meaningless thoughts that will go away and you'll be fine, but you know you're lying to yourself.

you know that ignoring your overwhelming emotions lately will only worsen them. it's been a week since those thoughts started again, and here you are, curled up in a ball underneath your comforter, pulling it up under your chin as the mental and emotional exhaustion hits its breaking point.

your cheeks are stained with tears, and your eyes are droopy and puffy. you were supposed to go to work today but called in sick. you didn't have it in you to face your work head-on today.

the moment you hung up the phone with your manager, you cried, sobbing into your comforter. you felt absolutely defeated calling in sick. you weren't even sick, you lied in order to stay home.

here you were, practically waving the white flag after the events of your life after your thoughts and feelings had beaten you down into a ball under your comforter. you hate yourself for calling in sick, feeling as if you should've just sucked it up and gone in, put on a mask to hide your emotions.

'so many people have it harder than you do, y/n. the fact you could even lie and call in sick is a privilege. look at all this privilege, and you're out here pouting, how selfish.'

you shut your eyes at the thought, nuzzling yourself further into the blanket as a tear squeezes itself free and down your skin.

'you can't even deal with your own feelings, your own thoughts, let alone some tiny ass inconveniences. pathetic.'

you feel stupid and weak. you feel like a crybaby.

your eyelids flutter closed as you sob into the thick comforter, letting out all the built-up frustrations in hopes that you'll feel better afterwards.

'j's one and only has notifications silenced. notify anyway?'

jisung's concern grows when he reads over the little notice at the bottom of your text conversation.

of course, he noticed you had been off the past couple of days, and when he asked what was up, you played it off as nothing, but it's jisung; he knows you like the back of his hand.

he didn't believe for one second that nothing was up. it was clear there was something, but he assumed you weren't in a place to talk to him about it yet, that you weren't ready yet. but now, you weren't even replying, let alone reading his messages.

jisung: good morning love, how did you sleep?

j's one and only: good morning i slept okay, how about you

jisung: i dreamt of you so i slept better than usual ;) i've got another busy day today, so i hope you have an amazing day my love

jisung: [photo attachment] i ate a bento box for lunch today

jisung: [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a b-side [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a skz-record

jisung: baby

jisung: y/n baby

he stares down at his phone, hoping to get a read receipt from you, but nothing. jisung finds himself swiping down the notification screen and swiping it away multiple times. on–probably–the fifth rotation, he pauses, an imaginary lightbulb flashing over his head.

jisung: i'm coming over

…

your sob session only further tired you out. you didn't have it in you to fight to stay awake, letting your heavy eyelids close as you cried to sleep around dinner time, curling up into a smaller ball as your tears soaked the comforter.

your eyes are puffy, your nose is runny and almost matches the flushed, red tint of your cheeks, your hair is dishevelled, and you have a prominent pout on your lips even in your sleep. the tears that fell from your eyes and stained your cheeks also bound your eyelashes together, as they glisten under the light of your bedside lamp.

a couple hours later, you're stirring awake, your head rolling left and right, and a tired groan leaves your lips. with a hum, you blink slowly as you come to full consciousness, and your brain is also slowly waking up from its resting state. after a brief stretch and a rush of endorphins flowing through your body, allowing you to relax, your limbs fall back into the mattress with a soft thump.

with a sigh, you roll your head to the side to look at the clock on the wall, registering that you've slept for a little over two hours and that there are a couple of hours left until midnight. you aren't starving, but you do feel like you need something to fill you up, so you roll out of bed and make your way into the kitchen to grab a light snack and a glass of water, snatching your phone off the bedside table before making your way out.

the moment your screen comes to life, you find a couple of missed messages from Jisung that you go to check first and send replies to.

j.one<3: [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a b-side [audio file] exclusive sneak peek of a skz-record

j.one<3: baby

j.one<3: y/n baby

j.one<3: i'm coming over

you: :O i'm telling jyp also i just woke up from a nap so jibaby you should stay home and rest, i'm fine

"you're not fine."

you stop in your tracks while feeling like your heart has jumped out of your chest. a sharp gasp leaves you as your hand grips your shirt in utter shock.

walking out from the kitchen and standing across from you, the dark-haired boy's eyes are laced with worry and concern, and his lips pout the slightest bit as he looks at you.

"shit ji, you scared the shit out of me," you watch as he shuts his screen off, "what are you doing here?"

"it's friday," he pushes himself off the wall, "remember our little deal?"

you nod, mouth agape with realization. your little deal was that if jisung would come over on fridays when his weekend schedules were nonexistent or started later in the day, one of the reasons why he had a key to yours and yunjin's place.

jisung takes a few steps towards you, just enough to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, moving your head around as his eyes graze your face. meanwhile, you look up at him with doe-eyed eyes, confused. he lets go of your chin and moves to take your hand, pulling you behind him as he walks into the living area.

"sit," he nods towards the couch. you follow his words and take a seat. stay there. i'll be right back. i made you some food."

you mutter a small agreement as your boyfriend walks out of view. a couple moments later, he walks out from behind the couch with a bowl in one hand and a cup in his other, placing both dishes down on the coffee table before he sits beside you.

"ji–"

"eat," he's quick to cut you off, but he's also quick to notice how sharp his tone is. not wanting to come off wrong, he quickly adds, " please."

you stare at him, to which he flashes you a quick smile. you're still quite perplexed, but you listen to him anyway; plus, whatever he's whipped up looks quite good, and you can't resist.

your boyfriend watches you eat for a few minutes before reaching for the glass of water on the table. the water is ready and on standby for when you need it. with a small smile, you exchange your food for the water he's holding, taking gulps while he places the bowl back on the table, followed by the water.

"tell me, what's wrong?" jisung has an elbow propped up on the couch, his hand coming down to pat the side of your head and play with a couple of strands of your hair. your hair is quite tangled after waking up from a nap.

"nothings wrong," you deny.

he purses his lips together before continuing, "you've been quiet over text all day," he tips his chin, nodding towards your face, "the red, puffy eyes and tear stains don't exactly back up your statement."

your appearance only further proved to the round-chinned boy that something was definitely going on. along with the ones he previously mentioned, your cheeks and nose were flushed with a tint of red, and your lashes were clumped together, a remnant of the tears you shed that tired you to sleep.

"i-it's stupid," you mutter, your eyes wandering away from jisung in shame.

jisung bites his tongue, taking a step back to observe you fully and your body language. he tries to put himself in your perspective before he says something. your boyfriend also doesn't want to come on too strong, as you're already going through something. he needs to use his 't' to his advantage while also keeping in mind your 'f, ' which is simultaneously logical but sensitive to your feelings.

"hey, look at me. whatever it is, it's not stupid," his hand travels down slowly, gently cupping your cheek. your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as you meet his gaze. " if you want, you can tell me what's going on, and i'll listen. if you don't want to, then i'll still be here, however you need me to be here right now."

jisung's thumb caresses your cheek gently, paired with a smile as gentle as his touch. you lean into his palm, the word 'hug' leaving your lips with a breathless sigh, to which jisung adjusts both your positions immediately.

the hug becomes a cuddle as you both lie on the couch facing each other, your face buried in jisung's chest, and one arm is squished between you two and the other around his torso. on the other hand, Jisung has an arm under your neck, and the other is holding you close, the smell of your shampoo gracing his senses from how close you are.

your body relaxes but your heart still feels heavy, although it's an improvement compared to a couple hours ago.

jisung's fingers toy with the strands of your hair, occasionally brushing through and trying to gently undo the knots. his mind wandering.

of course, you and jisung aren't attached by the hip and texting all day, every day; there have been times when a couple of hours linger between replies. either you or he would send a message beforehand letting the other know that there would be a delay on your end.

jisung knows you like the back of his hand. he knows your habits and mannerisms. so when you weren't replying or reading his messages after the exchange in the morning, coupled with your demeanour over text and a couple of phone calls, he knew something was wrong.

he knows how you get when you're in the wrong place mentally and emotionally, how you tend to shut yourself in and away from people. saying you want to be alone when you really don't.

before he left the company building, he made sure to check in with chan and the group manager regarding the weekend schedule–wanting to spend as much time as possible with you. sure, this meant he moved some things around, and his sunday would be more packed than usual, but jisung wanted and needed to be there for you.

and you didn't need to know that detail.

when jisung unlocked the front door, he did it as quietly as possible. he looked around the living area and kitchen to see if there were any signs of you, but the kitchen was clean, minus a used glass cup on the counter. he then made his way down the hall and to your bedroom, cracking open the door slowly, trying to avoid it creaking just in case you had been asleep, and you had.

jisung slowly approached the side of the bed, knelt, and observed your sleeping state.

your room was dim, and the only light source was the lamp on your bedside table, thus a yellow hue illuminating your features. jisung felt his heart ache at the sight of you. the air of tranquillity from your sleeping state contrasted with the clear signs of distress that lulled you to sleep. your cheeks were still quite damp with tears, and there were a couple of wet spots on your comforter and pillow.

the sight of you asleep with tear-stained cheeks had jisung wondering what had been going on inside your head the past couple of days, wanting to know the gravity of the storm inside your mind that eventually blew over and resulted in you, isolating yourself, alone and crying yourself to sleep. jisung wanted to get a glimpse into that mind of yours, fight off the thoughts and feelings that brought you to such a low point.

at the same time, the longer he looked at you, jisung wondered if he had done something. he wondered if he had done something lately that caused you to shy away from coming to him, that caused you to resort to crying alone in your room as the easier option. but jisung needed to fight those thoughts to the back of his mind, snapping himself to the realization that this isn't about him but about you and how you feel.

jisung didn't want to wake you up too soon, so he got back up, closed the door behind him softly, and made his way to your kitchen again. he opened and closed the cupboards, fridge, and freezer to identify ingredients he could whip up for you, just in time for you to eat once you awoke.

building up the confidence to speak, your fingers toy with the fabric on the back of jisung's hoodie. you take deep breathes and open your mouth.

"it's the feeling of self-doubt again…" you say softly, almost as if you're in a public place and spilling a secret—quiet but just loud enough for jisung to hear. he hums in acknowledgment, "i just... i don't know."

"how do you need me right now?"

you take a second to think, contemplating what would help you the most now.

"here with me, like this," you move your head up to look at him, "i just need someone to listen."

jisung nods, adjusting his position, but his hold on you never falters; he keeps you close. when he's adjusted, he nods again, this time with a smile and a look of determination.

when jisung felt your body relax in his arms earlier, he wished he could have been there sooner. he wished that you could have sobbed in his arms instead, and he would've held you tight instead of you crying into your pillow and comforter, alone in the dark. what matters to him now is that he's here, and he'll be here however you need him.

"i'm all ears for you, baby."

#nikkys inbox 💌 #zeroeightzeroonerequests #stray kids han imagine #stray kids han one shot #stray kids han imagines #skz han fluff #stray kids jisung one shots #stray kids jisung one shot #stray kids jisung imagines #stray kids jisung imagine #skz imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids one shots #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagine #skz han jisung fluff #skz han angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids hurt/comfort #hjs love collection

[mcntsee]

Fires of Passion, Ashes of Hate— The End

previous part series’ masterlist!

Summary: Lovers (mentioned) to enemies.

Warnings: Hate (?), blood, injuries, a lot of cursing, ooc Kaz. Also, not proofread.

Notes: As always, italics are flashbacks! I’m not entirely happy about how rushed this feels. I do, however, really like the end and I hope you guys do too. I do plan to make up for rushing this with extras, which so far are going to be the begging of their relationship and the breakup (and why they broke up.)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

For months, Kaz had been meticulously planning, sacrificing meals and sleep along the way. For months, Kaz tirelessly brainstormed different ideas, only to abandon them upon discovering minor flaws. Long months of hair-pulling, lip-biting, and picking at the skin around his nails.

He preferred his plans to be flawless, or at least as close to flawless as possible. He had a penchant for meticulously attending to small details that most would overlook. Opportunities that most would miss.

But this? He found himself adrift, unsure of his next move. The thought of proceeding blindly grated on him, intensifying his frustration. Even worse were the relentless doubts echoing in his mind, like the constant cawing of crows.

Despite Jesper and Inej's pleas to join him in his reckless pursuit, he adamantly refused. He couldn't bear the thought of putting them in harm's way, not because of his own anger and thirst for revenge.

All those months spent tirelessly searching for a way to strike back at Pekka led him to find refuge inside the old building. There, he meticulously set up device after device crafted by Wylan. He harbored no desire to simply end Pekka, for that would be too merciful by his standards. Instead, he yearned to inflict upon him the same agony he had endured years ago. He wanted him to hurt physically and financially, and the most effective means to accomplish this was by detonating his new acquisition.

In an instant, all the effort he had poured into his questionable plan was nullified by none other than her.

He had anticipated the Dime Lions to find him, engaging in a battle until only one remained victorious. This inevitable showdown was something he had prepared for, though uncertain of its timing. However, her involvement was never part of the equation.

To say Kaz was scared was a revelation, a sensation he had long relegated to the recesses of childhood memories. The darkness of their home, Jordie’s teasing laughter echoing down the corridors, the frantic escape from the pigs’ relentless pursuit—each a fragment of his past, each a reminder of the fear he had once known.

There was also the memory of Pekka’s betrayal looming large, a specter of fear that gripped his heart with icy fingers. Back then, she had tried to comfort him, to bridge the chasm of his terror with a simple embrace, but he had recoiled, the weight of his own emotions too heavy to bear. The repulsion lingering, the image of his brother’s accusing gaze etched into his mind’s eye.

Back then, he had left behind more than just his last name. Kaz Rietveld’s fear was a relic of his past, a burden he could no longer carry. Brekker, on the other hand, was immune to such weaknesses. Fear was a luxury he couldn’t afford, a shadow he refused to let darken his path. For him, fear was not an obstacle; it was merely a whisper in the wind, easily drowned out by the thunder of his determination.

Yet, there he stood in the darkness of the crumbling house. A solitary figure bathed in the moon's silver glow, his silhouette a stark contrast against the velvety blackness that enveloped him. The air hung heavy with an unnameable dread, thick with the weight of his own apprehension, wrapping around him like a suffocating cloak.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears like the beating of distant drums, a relentless cacophony echoing the frantic tempo of his escalating panic. Each breath he took was a struggle, a desperate gasp for air in a room that seemed to shrink around him, constricting his chest with invisible hands.

Tremors wracked his frame, his muscles tense and coiled like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. His gloved hands shook with a violent tremor, fingers twitching with the restless energy of fear while the once-familiar leather felt foreign against his skin, slick with the sweat that had gathered within.

His mind spun in dizzying circles, a whirlwind of fragmented memories and shadowy phantoms.

And then, a sensation so primal, so overwhelming, that it threatened to consume him whole. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to stretch on for eternity, swallowing him up in its dark embrace. It was a fear born not of the tangible, but of the intangible, a nameless dread that lurked in the deepest recesses of his soul.

In that moment, Kaz Brekker was not merely scared; he was consumed by an overwhelming, bone-deep terror.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

In all the years since assuming his new identity, she was the sole individual who evoked a semblance of fear within him. Not because he feared her, but because he feared for her. He fretted over her safety, yet true terror never gripped him. Not like it did now. Never like it did now.

“No, what are you doing here, Kaz?What is— How could you be so unbelievably foolish?”

“I had it all planned you fucking idiot.”

“Planned? Planned what? Your fucking death? Is that it?”

“Of course not! What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?”

Kaz’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. His jaw tensed, muscles rippling with the effort to contain his rising fury. He paced back and forth for a second, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight, before her voice interrupted his steps.

“I know exactly what you think you are doing but let me tell you, this is not the way you absolute idiot! Saints! This is certain death, Kaz.”

“I know what I’m doing!” His voice was a defiant growl, his eyes blazing with determination as she stepped closer, her gaze searching his for any hint of doubt. “Do you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Open your fucking eyes, Brekker! You are going to get yourself killed.”

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, morphing the frown into a semblance of a smile as his eyes swept over her features.

“So what? Why does that matter to you, huh? Why would you possibly care now when you never did before?”

“Never did? How fucking stupid can you be? Never cared?”

“You never fucking did!”

Breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving with the weight of his words. He turned away, unable to meet her gaze, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Brekker?”

“You!” His voice, a fragile facade shattered, cracked with emotion as his bottom lip quivered. His gloved hand rose to grasp at the ends of his disheveled hair in frustration. “Fuck— You! You are what’s wrong with me. You and your infuriating face, your grating voice, your laughter that pierces like needles, and those patronizing eyes.”

The sound of her footsteps reached his ears, and soon, the rhythm of his own steps joined in, creating a dissonant duet that mirrored the discord in his heart.

"So what, you just decide to concoct some half-baked scheme to take down Rollins, knowing full well it's a death sentence?"

His steps faltered, the fiery tempest within his soul halting his movement with a sudden, jarring intensity. Fury, a relentless inferno, blazed through his veins, igniting every fiber of his being with an uncontrollable rage.

With a primal roar, he surged forward, his fingers curled around her arms like iron vices, muscles flexing with a raw, primal strength as he propelled her backwards, her back colliding with the unyielding surface of the wall with a resounding thud.

“Get the fuck out of here-“

“No.”

“I’m not fucking asking.”

“You either leave with me, or we both stay.”

His grip tightened, fingers digging into flesh as he pinned her against the unforgiving barrier, every ounce of his being consumed by the need to dominate, to assert his power over her form.

His gloved fingers, their relentless grip now slackened, traced a deliberate path from her arm, gliding along the delicate curve of her collarbone before settling upon her neck. There, they tightened with a forceful resolve, constricting her airway with an iron grip that left no room for escape. “Get. Out.”

Her mouth open, his gaze flickered downward to her now parted lips, desperate for air, as she shook her head in refusal.

With a frustrated groan, his hand relinquished its grip on her body, her form leaning forward as if seeking solace in the precious air her lungs yearned for.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her voice mixed with the soft gasps for air that left her lips. He reached out again and grabbed her chin, — as he once did when her eyes sparkled with love instead of tears— forcing her to meet his eyes. “Say it again,” he demanded, his grip firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation.

“I hate you.”

As he looked into her eyes, he struggled to reconcile the present with the past, finding it difficult to believe that there was once a time when she had adored him, loved him with every fiber of her being. A time when he, too, had been consumed by love for her, his passion burning bright and untamed, bordering on dangerous obsession.

He could still vividly recall the first time she had uttered those three words, a moment etched into his memory with indelible ink. It was a poignant reminder of a love that had once flourished between them, a love so powerful that its absence now left behind a breathtaking ache, a hollow longing for what could never be forgotten.

He recalls the biting cold, how their noses had turned red from the chill. Yet, amidst the frosty air, he remembers the warmth that enveloped them both as they finally made their way inside the slat, eager to kindle the little fireplace she had insisted on building.

Forest green was the hue of the blanket she had chosen, a subtle barrier that separated them, granting the illusion of closeness without the need for full physical contact.

“I love you,” she had whispered, her voice carrying a shy vulnerability that was a stark departure from her usual confidence. Without hesitation, his gloved hand had reached out, gently cradling her chin and tilting her head to meet her eyes. “Say it again,” he had urged, and the moment she did, his heart skipped a beat.

His hand traced a tender path, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear before returning to gently caress her cheek. “I love you too, love.”

He had winced slightly at the repetition of the word in the same sentence, but her soft smile eased his unease, and he watched her confidence reappear. “I know.”

“I hate you too, love.”

“I know.”

With a sigh, he allowed his fingers to travel up her face, their touch gentle as he pushed the loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Get out.”

He did not want her to get hurt because of this. While his mind rationalized it as not wanting to tend to her wounds as he had months ago, his heart simply couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt, let alone gone. “Please.”

“Come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can! Kaz— you are going to kill yourself.”

He wasn't entirely convinced of that. Despite the messiness of his plan, he had crafted numerous scenarios where only two outcomes guaranteed certain death. He couldn't afford to perish before exacting vengeance upon Ronllins.

“How cute.”

For a moment, he feared he had finally succumbed to madness. The relentless thirst for revenge seemed to manifest as auditory hallucinations of Pekka's voice. Yet, as he glanced into her eyes only to see them fixed on something behind him, he realized the voice was no figment of his imagination.

“Mr. Brekker, a pleasure as always.”

His fingers tightened around her chin once more, forcing her to meet his gaze, which pleaded silently. With a shake of her head, Kaz knew she had no intention of leaving.

“Rollins.”

“And who do we have here? A new dreg?”

With one last defeated glance in her direction, he pivoted to confront Rollins. His men shadowing behind him, armed with an array of weapons, their faces adorned with smirks.

He was confident he had placed enough detonators strategically around the structure. His fingers instinctively traced the cold metal of the gun Jesper had entrusted to him, ready to trigger the devices with a single bullet. The explosions, however, were not intended to harm any of them; their sole purpose was to weaken the structure, creating a brief window of opportunity for him to slip away before the inevitable collapse.

Now, he found himself hesitating to pull the trigger. This was precisely the mistake of proceeding blindly with the plan—it had led to this unforeseen risk, one he had not calculated and, even more troubling, had not found a solution to. He hadn't anticipated Pekka's arrival; he had assumed it would only be a few of his men. Men who wouldn't know when to retreat and would likely perish amidst the rubble and dust.

But, much like his own men, Pekka would be oblivious to the right moment to escape and save himself, which would prematurely end all the suffering Kaz intended to inflict upon him.

And she... She had no idea either. If he pulled the trigger, she would likely end up trapped beneath the collapsing building as well. Which left Kaz with the stark realization that he was fucked.

Of all the meticulously crafted plans, these miscalculations had moved Kaz from Plan A to Plan T— one of the only two plans that meant certain death. Which, despite its initial premise relying on the gun misfiring and failing to detonate the bombs, would yield the same outcome if he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.

“Kaz.”

Her gentle whisper was the sole anchor that pulled him back from the uncertain future to the stark reality of the present. Meeting her gaze once more, he found reassurance in her nod and the quick glance she cast at the gun he still held. This time, however, it was he who shook his head in refusal.

“Do it.”

“You all will die.”

“No,” she interjected, her voice firm as she shook her head. The strand of hair he had brushed aside moments ago falling back into place by her face with the movement. “Pekka will be out the door as soon as the first explosion goes off.”

“You will die.”

“I’ll follow you.”

Once more, he hesitated, but before any other words could escape his lips, she seized the gun from his grasp. With a single nod of determination, she fired, hitting the bomb that would soon set off the rest in the chain reaction.

The building trembled, sending dust cascading down, dirtying his hair as he observed the Dime Lions exchanging worried glances with one another. And as she had assured, the instant the first explosion reverberated through the air, Rollins began barking orders before hastily making his escape from the scene.

Before long, the building convulsed once more with the force of the second explosion, coinciding with Rollins' men launching their assault. One by one, bodies dropped, their falls drowned out by the deafening cacophony of the bombs.

As the first piece of the roof plummeted to the ground, signaling the urgency to flee, he would have heeded the warning if not for the sight of her collapsing to her knees, clutching her now bleeding arm. Against his instinct to flee, his legs propelled him in the opposite direction, deeper into the building. With swift strides, he sprinted towards the assailant who had shot her and now aimed his gun at her vulnerable form.

A grunt escaped his lips as his body collided with the Dime Lion, successfully tackling him to the ground and forcing the gun out of his reach. As anger consumed him, his punches became swifter and more forceful, each one finding its mark on the rival's face. The only sounds reaching his ears were the cracks of impact and the pained moans escaping the Dime Lion, all else was muffled.

He emitted a surprised sound as someone pulled him away from the unrecognizable face of his rival. Before he could question it, another sizable chunk of concrete crashed down exactly where he had been just moments before.

“We have to go.”

Unlike before, he swiftly rose to his feet and acquiesced to leaving with her, their quick footsteps drowned out by the agonized shouts of the Lions they were leaving behind.

The floor gave way beneath them, pillars collapsed all around, and glass flew in their direction. There had been many close calls, but they still made it out alive.

They continued running until their legs could carry them no further, seeking refuge in a nearby alley. Soon after the entire building collapsed, and the stadwatch sirens began to blare. They waited in tense silence until the stadwatch had passed by, allowing them to finally relax. Leaning against the wall, he eased the weight off his bad leg, taking a moment to try and massage away the pain.

Once they could properly catch their breath, and the pain in his side had subsided, he began to walk back to the slat, only pausing when he realized he didn't hear her quiet footsteps following behind.

As he turned, he found her looking around, trying to discern where to go next without attracting attention. With a sigh, he approached her and asked, "Are you coming?"

They walked in silence until the crooked silhouette of the building he called home came into view. With a deliberate slowness, he opened the door, gesturing for her to enter first, before following closely behind.

Once in his office, he shrugged off his now ruined coat and made his way to the bathroom. Inside, he located the new sewing kit he had recently purchased and retrieved it. He then exited the bathroom and moved to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a bottle of rye whiskey.

Drawing closer to her, his eyes keenly observed her movements. When he was near enough, he extended both items to her, watching as the hand that had been covering the wound reached out to accept them. “Rye. My favorite.” A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. “Not for drinking.”

While she tended to herself, he swiftly changed out of his soiled shirt into a clean one, taking the opportunity to dust off his hair and wash his face as best as he could.

He returned to the room to find her comfortably resting in his bed, her eyes closed as she softly hummed a bar song.

He moved to his desk but allowed his gaze to linger on her form for a moment, memories of the many times he had seen her in such a peaceful state flooding his thoughts. He opened one of the drawers and retrieved a stack of papers, carefully searching between them until he found what he had hidden within.

He moved closer to her and sat on the bed beside her. "Here," he said, his hand extending out, offering a gift that had long been intended for her. He observed as she opened her eyes, her gaze traced down his face, following the line of his arm until her eyes settled on the paper folded between his extended fingers.

His eyes focused on her hand as it reached out, carefully taking the paper from his hand, before gently pulling it open. “Kaz-“

Her words were interrupted by a happy sigh leaving her lips as her eyes brimmed with tears. Her thumb gently tracing over the portrait that she had longed for since its mysterious disappearance.

Once her eyes had followed every stoke of paint in the portrait, she gently turned the paper over, revealing a message in the back of it. “My girl and I.”

He could see the pain in her eyes. It was the same one that graced his eyes every time he read her words on the back of the portrait that he had. The pain of knowing what was, but couldn’t continue to be. “How did you get this?”

He had looked for the street artist for a week. He was going to give up, but then he saw him. Sleeping under some stairs, shivering from the cold. He had asked him to recreate the portrait, and had payed a decent amount once the kid had been done.

He had been eager to give it to her as a ‘Sorry I stole the other one but surprise!’ gift of sorts, but he never got the chance. Between jobs and meetings they distanced themselves, and when they were together, they had become explosive. Too tired to do anything, too angry or frustrated to have a conversation.

It had continued to grow for a long time, and slowly they started to hate it. To hate one another.

They broke up before he even got the chance to add a message to the back of the portrait. “I found the artist and asked him to recreate the original.”

“Why?”

“Because I loved you.”

Loved. As the weight of his words settled in, her gentle smile slowly faded. Her eyes drifted away from his, returning to the message inscribed on the back of the portrait. With a tender touch, her thumb traced over each letter, lost in thought. “Why give it to me now?”

“Because I love you.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, brows furrowed as she struggled to comprehend his words. A subtle tremor ran through her hands, and her lips parted, unable to articulate the myriad thoughts racing through her mind. “You-“ Her voice faltered as she started to articulate a response, but she hesitated, searching for the right words, leaving a pregnant pause in the air.

“You love me?”

The blurred line between love and hate only truly revealed itself to him when she entered his life.

The depth of his love became painfully evident when she walked away, leaving him feeling like nothing, yet the frustration remained as he couldn't shake the love that persisted.

Conflicting desires surged within him – the urge to kiss her clashed with the impulse to punch her. He wrestled with wanting to support her while simultaneously desiring her to endure solitude and suffering.

The desire to hear her voice warred with the anger that surged within him every time she addressed him. The yearning to embrace her and the desperate need to keep her at a distance.

How can he love her so passionately but hate her so brutally all at the same time?

“Hopelessly.”

Her eyes softened with a hint of disbelief, and a gentle blush tinted her cheeks as his unexpected response left her momentarily speechless, a subtle warmth spreading through her.

“But you hate me?”

“Dangerously.”

He noticed a spark in her eyes, a subtle sway in her form, and a teasing smile playing on her lips as the satisfaction of his answer radiated through her.

“I hate you too, Kaz Brekker.”

And if her feelings toward him were only filled with hatred, he'd find peace in knowing that at least she felt something for him.

For the first time in years, she flashed him a smile. A genuine smile, a familiar one. One he had seen countless times before, one his heart had desperately yearned for, and in return, he flashed one of his own.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

taglist!: @moonstruck-poet @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @littleshadow17 @izzyisstuff @amybonehouse @justvibbinghere @circus-of-thoughts @anonymous-creep @myownpainintheass hope you guys enjoyed it! <3

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #fanfiction #angst #fluff #kaz brekker

[witcher-and-his-bard]

Love Letters

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): none Rating: general

Fic Summary: Jaskier writes down all his feelings in a letter he never expects Geralt to see - only for Geralt to arrive shortly after, snowed out of Kaer Morhen.

For @jackironsides 💜

My beloved Geralt

Dear Geralt

Geralt, my love

No matter what he writes, it sounds wrong. Too intimate, too casual, too... much in one way or another. Jaskier hasn't even gotten past the introduction and he already wants to give up on the letter. It feels so easy over the summer, when he and Geralt spend long, muggy days walking side-by-side. Jaskier sings and Geralt rides, and occasionally, Geralt will even sing along with whatever he's playing.

Now, in the dark of his room at the academy, those feelings feel dull and distant. Not Jaskier's feelings, of course, but the potential reciprocation. These days, he finds himself thinking about Geralt's relationships with Eskel or Lambert, or even Vesemir. He wonders how different those relationships are to the one he shares with Geralt. Maybe those gentle things Geralt says to him in the comfort of their shared inn rooms are just things Geralt would say to anyone.

Ugh. Jaskier flops backward in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He wishes there was an easy way to know these things, and for the first time in a long time he finds himself envying Yennefer. She could just read Geralt's mind, she could just know. And Geralt? He can smell emotions or something like that; at least, he always seems to know when Jaskier is upset about something. Maybe he took the wrong path in life. Maybe he should have tried to get into Ban Ard and become a mage. Surely there is some chaos in him, enough, at least, to be able to read minds.

Briefly, Jaskier considers contacting Yen. They've had a better relationship as of late, and she might be able to give him some insight, if nothing else. But he doesn't want to drag her into something that isn't really any of her business. Not because he's afraid to tell her, but because she might not want to know. She's happy now - travelling with Triss and Istredd last he heard - but there might be some leftover feelings there and he doesn't want to bring up Geralt in a romantic setting if he doesn't need to. Plus, he doesn't want to feel like more of a burden than he already does.

Jaskier looks down at the half-started letter in front of him and angrily crumples it up before blowing out the candle and shoving his chair back. He flops forward onto folded arms, looking out into the blue of the night sky, speckled with snow. Normally, he would take comfort in a view like this, but tonight, it just reminds him of how far away Geralt is.

Is it even worth beginning a relationship when they spend so much time apart? Would Geralt even be interested? Even if he was madly in love with Jaskier, would that be enough? What's the point when you have no one to cuddle with and watch the snowfall? But then maybe Geralt would want to visit some winters if they were more.

Gods, he wants that more than he can even properly comprehend. The idea of falling asleep in Geralt's arms feels like the height of romance. Already, Jaskier treasures the moments he falls asleep listening to Geralt's voice, even if he does feel a bit bad about it in the morning. Despite himself, a dopey smile spreads across his face at the thought. He misses Geralt more than he can say while they're apart in the winter. It's only a little into the season and already the long, dark winter feels endless.

Jaskier inhales deeply, sighs, and sits up to write. He's determined to finish this letter, even if it never reaches its intended audience.

Geralt,

I know it's barely been a month since we parted, but I find myself longing again for your company. Teaching is hectic as always, and my students love a tale of your heroism. I know you don't consider yourself a hero, but I do. Though lately, I find myself recalling different moments from our travels. I find myself thinking of the evenings after a contract has been completed and paid. I think back to the ale or tea and the stars hanging low in the sky. The way the firelight flickers on your face. I miss that. I miss the way your hair falls in your face when you take it down to sleep. I miss how stubborn you are about that awful headband. And I regret to tell you now that I've grown... rather fond of it, actually.

Rather rarely do I find myself at a loss for words, but they escape me when I try to nail down all the things I feel for you. I know I am a mere mortal, doomed to die years or even decades before you, but given the chance, I would happily live out the rest of my life at your side. Perhaps even in your arms.

I know love is not a word you use often, but the way I feel it could very well become something so all-encompassing. I can't promise that love is how I feel now. I find myself mixed up in a way I've never felt before. That's not to say that I don't love you, because I do. As a friend, as a companion, as something more. Perhaps one day, even as a lover. Even if you don't feel the same, I want you to know that you are deeply cared for in every way one person can care for another. I don't mind if you don't want to see me again, so long as it is your wish, and one borne out of intention rather than fear. Because although I've never spoken the words, I've longed for you for days and weeks and months and years, silently staying by your side. Perhaps one day you will have me there on purpose - despite, or maybe even because of, my feelings for you.

Until then, I remain yours, as always.

Jaskier.

Jaskier looks over the letter once more and, feeling an uncomfortable swell of emotion, folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope that just reads Geralt. He's only just finished hiding the evidence when there's a knock at his door.

"Yes?" he asks.

"Sorry to interrupt so late," the voice on the other side of the door says. Jassa, Jaskier thinks, his assistant at the university. "You have a guest."

"A guest?" Jaskier asks, perplexed. Who on earth would brave this weather just to visit? The only guests he normally has are students or his fellow professors, either of whom would just come to his room and knock themselves.

"He says he's a friend. Geralt? I think," Jassa says.

Jaskier's heart somersaults.

"Right," he says, "of course. Send him up. I'll leave the door open."

"Certainly," Jassa smiles. "I'll send him right up. Have a good night, Professor."

"And you," Jaskier finishes, barely aware of what he's saying.

What is Geralt doing here? Of all the years they've known each other, he's never once come to visit over the winter, so why now? Jaskier turns around, leaning on the door, and is struck by the state of his room. For the last two days, he's done nothing but lie around and sulk, and it shows. He absolutely cannot let Geralt see his room like this.

Given he has roughly four minutes, maybe a few more if Geralt stops to talk to Jassa before coming up, it's not going to be easy. So Jaskier starts with the worst of it: the clothes and things laying all over the bed and floor. There is a surprising amount of mess considering Jaskier is the only one residing in the room, but he manages to get the worst of it tidied before the knock at the door. A final glance tells him only the desk and table are still cluttered, but that much is acceptable so he crosses to the door.

As he pulls it open, Jaskier is struck by Geralt's smile. He always is when they haven't seen each other for some time, but this feels more. Maybe it's because he's been considering his own feelings lately, but looking at Geralt, here and in person, makes his legs weak.

"Hi," he says shakily.

Geralt gives him an odd look, but it quickly turns into a half-smile and he steps into the room when Jaskier moves aside.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he says gently, "it's no trouble to find a room at the inn if-"

"Not at all," Jaskier interrupts. "I'd be happy to host you if you're staying.”

"I had hoped to," Geralt says.

"What brings you?" Jaskier asks.

"The route to Kaer Morhen was snowed over by the time we arrived in Kaedwen," he explains, "I thought this might be the best place to stay."

Part of Jaskier is delighted at the thought, though when he considers it further, Oxenfurt is further than any of the other places Geralt would be more than welcome to stay over the winter. There's no good reason for him to have travelled all the way to the coast, when surely Yen would have taken him in without question. Their relationship may not be romantic anymore, but Jaskier knows there is still a deep love between them. And he's happy for it, which makes it all the more confusing why Geralt is here. He thinks to ask, but reconsiders.

"Please," he says, remembering his manners, "make yourself at home. I can have a bath poured if you're tired? Was Roach properly cared for? Shall I call for supper-"

"Jaskier," Geralt says gently, "Roach is fine. A small meal would be nice, but there's no rush. Right now I'd just like to relax."

Of course, Jaskier thinks. He must have been travelling for weeks if he first attempted the path and then had to turn back. Jaskier had left him just north of the Pontar, between the mountain ranges, so that must have been-

"Jaskier?" Geralt asks, cutting off his train of thought. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Jaskier assures him. "Just wasn't expecting company and I'm not prepared for it- Not that you're not welcome!" he corrects quickly, and with a little too much vigour.

"Perhaps you're the one who needs a rest," Geralt says, half-teasingly.

"Just to get my head on straight," Jaskier assures him. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and I'll go fetch something warm for you to eat."

Jaskier slips from the room, only stopping one he's far enough away that Geralt won't hear him. He stops and sighs, pressing a hand to his chest as if to stop the mad beating of his heart. Surely Geralt has heard it already and he’s given himself away, but he was hardly expecting to be visited like this out of the blue.

He takes another few calming breaths before continuing on down to the kitchen. He's close with the chef - with most of the staff if he's honest - and has more than once helped him out of a sticky situation with less-than-edible herbs, so his request for a private supper is granted with a smile. In the meantime, Jaskier makes his way back up to the room, holding his breath for a moment before opening the door.

Geralt is standing over the desk in the small room, mumbling quietly. As Jaskier approaches, slipping up behind him, he realizes Geralt is reading the poetry he'd been working on. Jaskier has never been so relieved to know how little Geralt thinks about his poems, as these ones are nearly explicitly about him, the only relief being that his name is not used. Wolf, he uses once or twice, but it's a metaphor and Geralt always says he doesn't care for flowery things like metaphors.

"This is... lovely," Geralt says, though he sounds a bit off as he does.

"Thank you," Jaskier says quietly, slipping around to Geralt's side to see which one he's reading.

"You- your narrator sounds sad."

"Ah, yes. Been a bit of a downer lately, I suppose."

Jaskier tries to laugh it off but Geralt turns to look at him, something like concern in his expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing's wrong," Jaskier assures. "I've just not been feeling myself."

"Can I help?"

Jaskier is taken aback by the blunt suggestion and his head jerks up to meet Geralt's eyes.

"I'm not sure you could, love," he says gently.

"If someone has hurt you-"

"No," Jaskier says quickly.

"You reek of heartache," Geralt says bluntly.

"Right. Well." He considers for a moment before deciding against lying to Geralt. "Unrequited love, I'm afraid."

"How do you know it is?"

"Unrequited?" Jaskier laughs, "oh, my darling, he'd have to be the stupidest man alive not to know. Or perhaps the most oblivious. I'm sure he would have said something if he felt the same."

"You haven't," Geralt counters.

"Right, well- He wouldn't want someone like me, surely."

"Perhaps he feels you think the same of him."

Jaskier had considered that option, but it seems unlikely.

"Either way, it's best just to tell him. I'm sure he'll be flattered if nothing else."

The mere suggestion of it makes Jaskiers stomach turn and he nods slowly. Thankfully, at that moment, supper is delivered to their room and he is spared the thought of confessing his feelings - out loud - to Geralt.

His relief is short-lived as supper is finished shortly, but he makes an excuse about taking the dishes away and dashes out the door with them. Jaskier wants to cry. He can't believe he's gotten himself into a mess like this and he can only hope Geralt doesn't continue to bring it up.

He's so distracted thinking about it that it seems like seconds before he's standing back in front of his door. He hesitates before opening the door, keeping his eyes closed until the last possible moment.

When he opens his eyes, Jaskier's heart jumps into his throat. As Geralt turned to see him, a piece of paper had fallen from his hands and Jaskier can't take his eyes off it. He'd been so preoccupied worrying about the mess when Geralt showed up that he'd forgotten to hide the letter. And it was addressed to Geralt, he had every right to read it, but-

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier scrambles across the floor, reaching for the letter, but Geralt catches his wrist, holding him still.

"Is this just another one of your poems?" he asks quietly.

Jaskier shakes his head. There's no use denying it.

"It's… me. I'm the one you were talking about earlier."

Jaskier half wishes he could fall through the floor and never have to finish this conversation. Sadly, despite how hard he wishes, the floor refuses to open up beneath him. He nods.

"I want to hear you say it."

Jaskier's tongue feels heavy in his mouth but he manages, "I don't know what to say. I don't want to make any big confessions I can't live up to."

"Then how about this?" Geralt says.

He leans in, taking Jaskier's face in his hand, and softly presses their lips together. For a moment, Jaskier forgets to breathe and has trouble believing this is real at all. But when Geralt pulls back again, he's smiling, his cheeks a faint shade of pink. Jaskier's first thought is that it's quite a pretty colour on him before he presses forward and kisses him again.

"Yeah," he breathes, barely pulling away to speak, "I think that's a good start."

#rex writes #i just barely managed to sneak in a fic in January #first one of the year #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher

[akutasoda]

hello! may i request a dazai x fem! reader angst fic based on the song renegade by big red machine ft. taylor swift. this is currently one of my fav songs and as i listened, the lyrics somewhat reminded of dazai. particularly, dazai who was in a toxic relationship with reader, whereby reader feels burdened and emotionally drained because he has been consistently pushing her away when she wants to help him with his issues. over time, the 2 only become increasingly distant, eventually causing reader to break up with him, and only then does he realise how precious reader is to him because the thought of not having her by his side would only torment him in the long run. thus, he finally lets down the walls and facade he has always put up, showing his true self to reader who ultimately decides to stay with him.

also, i was the one who requested the ranpo x reserved! reader and i loved it so much! i've noticed that you like writing angst, so i hope you would like writing this too! i hope good days are ahead of you :)

do you know you're demolishing me?

synopsis - after shutting you out he realises he would be lost without you

includes - dazai

warnings - fem!reder(she/her pronouns), angst, slight comfort at the end, dazai's kind of scummy, wc - 933

a/n: im so glad you enjoyed! i do kind of like angst a but too much haha, i hope good days are ahead for you too! :)

sometimes when you're in love its hard to tell when to let it go. this could be for multiple reasons ranging from simply loving them too much or not knowing if they are willing to work through it with you. when you had first set about in your relationship with dazai you were close enough to tell that his normal attitude was just a facade. and a small part of you wished that he would eventually open up to you so you could help, you didn't want to push into the issue fearing that it may be extremely sensitive.

so you would simply hope that dazai had the reasoning to one day open up to you. but it had proved to be slightly more difficult than you imagined. sure you knew going into it that there would be some issues along the way but you were willing to get through them and make your bond stronger however it seemed it was one sided.

dazai brushed off every inconvenience hoping for it to go away and only acknowledge the highs of the relationship and not the lows. truth was he didn't know how to deal with them and he didn't want to let you down so he just tried to ignore them figuring that it would all work out, he would never come to tell you this. rightfully it bothered you, you were so determined to help him but he was constantly pushing you away and you didn't know how much longer you could do this.

dazai could see how his self-destructive behaviour was affecting you. he knew you were trying to help him genuinely from the bottom of your heart but he, for some reason, always made the decision to push you away. and it seemed to be hurting him more than he realised. eventually you started feeling burdened with not only your problems but dazai's aswell. and you realised it truly had become a one-sided relationship.

it started leaking over it your actual life not just in the relationship. you started becoming emotionally drained and your friends and coworkers started realising and asked constantly if everything was okay which you just brushed off with a strained smile. eventually the small gestures that contained any actual sign of a loving relationship faded and you began barely talking to him.

he noticed you had stopped talking to him and yet again brushed it off. you probably were having a bad day. but this new found loneliness of not seeing you as often and barely speaking to you felt weird. he constantly glanced at his phone hoping to see your name pop up in his notifications or he would write a message to you just to erase it and stare off into the distance. was it really his facade that pushed you away? or did he just let his problems damage you?

eventually he received the dreaded message. the happiness from seeing a message from you dissipated into fear as it read 'i think it would be better if we broke up'. he had done it again. another person he so deeply cared about left him. tears fell easily that night.

you however started perking up abit. you started feeling less burdened with your problems and more emotionally aware. the sting of the break lingered but you just thought it would go away. but you soon had realised it was loneliness. no it was just the last of your feelings getting out, you would get over him soon.

dazai wasn't fairing to well however. it was ironic really, now that you were gone he realised just how much you meant to him. he missed you dearly but his stupid facade had given you nothing but pain and pushed you away more than his words could. now that you weren't around he was simply lost. everything he would see that he would want to do with you or give to you drove in the fact that you weren't there.

his fellow agency members noticed his more distant attitude. very few actually knew of his (ex)girlfriend, so only they figured that the reason was to do with you. but the empty feeling within him that used to be occupied by you now felt like it was consuming him and he couldn't think of anything else but trying to get back with you.

he had alot to make up for, that he knew but he figured if anything he could start with was a long overdue heartfelt apology. he had managed to convince you to meet at your favourite café, you wouldn't tell him but you missed him slightly. it was fairly quite but he he only wanted to get out all his apologies. how he felt lost without you and not having you by his side made him feel terrible.

he had made a promise that day. one that he would rather die than break. that he would try his hardest to be honest with his feelings with you and not run away from conflicts with you if you gave him another chance to make things right. that he would be the boyfriend you deserved.

after a small moment of thinking you had decided to give him a second chance. but you made it very clear that if he reverted back to his old ways a third chance was not available. and eventually not long after he had let his facade slip around you and you helped him through all his hard times in the best way you knew how. how did he get so lucky?

#x reader #bsd x female reader #x female reader #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x fem reader #bsd x reader angst

[josiewinters1999]

Normal (p2)

L Lawliet x Chubby!Reader

Part 1

Summary: L longs for a sense of normalcy in his current depression. The burdens of the case begin to weigh him down. His heart longs for something or someone far away... If only she were with him now...

Words: ~4k

Contains: Established relationships, angst, depressed L, mentions of low self esteem, mentions of marriage, hurt/comfort, takes place before yotsuba arc

A/N: Thank you everyone to read and enjoyed part 1!! I apologize for the wait on part 2, I thought I would have it done long before now but life gets in the way lol. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope I captured L's character well. I just feel sad sometimes bc the poor guy just wants friends and stuff like everyone else :/ so this is my way of giving him something special ToT hope you guys enjoy!!!

***

Watari could barely stand it anymore. Watching L stagnate like this was killing him, and not to mention, severely hindering the progress of the investigation. The past few days, he barely ate, only picked at his cakes and cookies. He requested cannolis once, and Watari immediately knew what was wrong… he missed her. 

The night he watched through the security cameras as L called her, his suspicion was only confirmed. His left hand never left his pocket, the pocket that always carried her photo. The longing in his voice was soft yet deep, and the bags under his eyes were just that much darker. 

The great detective’s mood seemed to sour even greater every time he watched Misa interact with Light. Every flirtatious comment, every touch, every hug, had L shrinking into his chair just a bit more. Watari was afraid he’d break his spine the way he curled so tightly into his knees. 

Even Light was beginning to make comments about L’s slight shift in behavior. He would try to include L on findings in the case, and even tried to offer to take him out for a tennis match. L would have none of it, it seemed nothing would lift his spirits… nothing except one thing. 

L would be furious if Watari did what he was tempted to do, beyond furious actually. It was an incredibly reckless and risky thing to do given the nature of this case. However, the case was suffering, Kira was no closer to being caught, and its lead investigator had a case of a broken heart. Watari was quickly running out of time and options. What else was he supposed to do? 

With a heavy sigh, Watari picks up the nearest phone and dials a New York cannoli shop. 

***

Flipping through the same stack of papers that have been on his desk for the past three days, L scans the words over and over again, as if the reports would change in real time. He could feel his mind wandering, see the words blurring, and hear the noise in the background fade and distort. HIs was losing his edge, and with it he felt, his sanity. 

“What do you think of this report, Ryuzaki?” Light politely asks, handing him a document from a stack he’s already read ten times over. Gently taking it in hand, L reads of an incident of Kira enacting his justice on a convicted mobster, guilty of killing business owners who refused to pay his protection fee. Just like how we met. 

L hums, trying once again to put on the facade that nothing was wrong with him, that his heart was still even in this case at all. “I’m not quite sure, Light,” he answers, “While this type of criminal most definitely meets Kira’s typical profile for a ‘deserved killing’… it almost seems too much like Kira. I think that…” he pauses for a moment, “oh nevermind. I believe that made much more sense inside my head.” He hunches over the drink on his desk before whispering under his breath, “I just keep saying ridiculous things…”

He sighs, taking another sip of his barely sweetened coffee. L didn’t even have the energy or will to turn his drinks into pure sugar water anymore. Everything sweet reminded him of her. After all, her lips tasted just like fresh, tangy, sweet, rasp-

“Ryuzaki?” Watari’s voice pulls him from his stupor only for a moment, that voice being his only comfort in these hard times. Not daring to look up from the swirling, murky, coffee in his cup, he only hums, “Yes, what is it Watari?” The sound of his cart rolling across the floor becomes louder and louder as it approaches L’s desk, yet Watari’s voice stays exactly where it is, “I have something rather special here for you today.” 

When the cart stops, a delicate, feminine, hand places a small plate in front of the detective. A perfectly fresh, puffy, and practically overstuffed cannoli sits right in L’s line of sight. The bright pink cream falls in puddles on the plate, beckoning him to have a taste. 

With certain caution, L takes a hesitant finger into the cream, bringing it to his lips. “Raspberry…” he mumbles around his index finger. Pulling his hand slowly from his mouth, he carefully turns his head to the side, finding a set of wide, soft, hips standing next to him. He follows the figure with his eyes, tracing every familiar curve with a disbelieving look. 

Finally reaching the face of the not-so-mystery woman, L’s jaw practically falls to the floor. The woman only chuckles, like a sweet song, and gives an equally sweet wave, “Hi, cream puff. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

L springs from his chair like a Jack in the box, nearly dragging Light to the floor by his wrist. His eyes widen, and he, for once in his life, is left completely speechless. “I-I…” he stutters, “What are you doing here?” The plump woman only twiddles her hands in front of her, a guilty blush beginning to consume her face. “Well…” 

Watari interrupts the exchange by clearing his throat and taking a few steps forward. All three heads in the room turn towards him, though only two of them understand what is even being said. “I summoned her here of my own accord,” Watari explains, “I felt the case needed some extra moral support, and after a thorough call, she seemed very eager to assist. Isn’t that right Miyuki?” 

Of course he would give her an alias that means “beautiful happiness.”

‘Miyuki’ nods eagerly at Watari’s confession, “Yes, he explained everything on the phone and well… I knew that I had to come.” She tilts her head and gives L a soft, sad, smile, “He said you weren’t doing so well, cream puff. If I had the chance to help, I couldn’t just let it slip me by.” 

Despite the flutter in his heart and the urge to suddenly reach out to touch her, L’s logical side fumes in anger. Shooting a glare to Watari and then back at Miyuki, he sets his jaw, “Do you have any idea just how dangerous it is for you to be here right now? Our lives are on the line in this case, and the last thing I want right now, is for yours to be at risk as well.” 

His scolding has her lowering her head in shame while Watari stands still as ever. “I’m sorry,” she mutters, “I just… Watari said it would help you relax to have me around and well,” she raises her head, “I wanna help you any way I can, no matter what it takes. My life included.” 

Looking into her eyes, L could tell she meant that with her entire being. She wasn’t there for any other reason than to make him happy. He had two choices now; shatter her heart and send her back to New York, or put her life at stake to keep her here. They both were incredibly risky paths to take, each could result in losing her for good. 

His silence only raised her anxiety and Miyuki’s eyes begin to water slightly, “I… I thought you’d be glad to see me. It’s been almost two years since you last saw me in person. Do you… not want me here?” 

Now he really was on the spot, he needed to think quickly before this escalated more. Could he really tell a lie to that sweet, puffy, soft face that cared so much for his well being? Would it even be worth it to do so? Swallowing a lump in his throat L finally musters the courage to answer her question. “No,” he begins, “I am very glad to see you. I trust that you being here now means Watari took all the proper precautions to bring you to Japan,” she nods in confirmation before he continues, “If that’s the case…” he smiles slightly, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to keep you around for a few days or so.” 

Miyuki’s face lights up in a smile and she lunges forward, wrapping her arms around L’s neck. “Oh thank you!” she exclaims, “I’ll make sure you never run out of raspberry cannolis again, cream puff.” Returning her embrace, L snakes his arms around her waist. A waist that, it seems, has grown. His girlfriend had put on a bit of weight since he last saw her, and if he was being completely honest with himself, he loved it. Holding her felt like biting into a fresh donut; warm, soft, and like home. 

L would have continued to hold her against himself for as long as time permitted, but unfortunately, she stepped away, a red embarrassed flush on her cheeks. Looking back at the dumbfounded and clueless Japanese boy handcuffed to her boyfriend, Miyuki wrings her hands, “I don’t suppose I could have a moment with you in private? If that’s too much to ask, I guess we could talk with… whoever that is, here.” 

“Ah,” L hums, looking back over his shoulder at his companion beside him, “That would be Light Yagami, completely harmless… for now. It would take too long to explain why he’s currently attached to me but…” he trails off, tracing his thumb on his lip as he looks at the massive monitor full of surveillance camera feeds. If he uncuffed himself from Light, he would still be watched 24/7 by Watari and the others, right? Surely it wouldn’t do any harm to the investigation to give himself a one hour break from his experiment. 

Looking back to Miyuki, L smirks, “I believe I could arrange a private moment for us. Light has someone else in this facility waiting to spend some alone time with him as well. He’s been behaving well enough I don’t think it would be too horrible to allow him that. I’ll meet you on the 18th floor… once I find the key for these handcuffs.”

***

A quiet, yet peaceful silence hung in the air as L squatted on the couch across the coffee table from Miyuki. It was strange the way their relationship played out, their phone calls were always filled to the brim with conversation, almost never allowing for a moment of quiet, yet these moments, the ones where each occupied the same room together, were always so silent. Both were so content to bask in each other’s presence. 

L watched her with nearly glossed over eyes, curled in on himself as he studied her every shift and movement on the couch, trying his hardest to commit every part of her to memory, especially since she’d changed so much. The tension in the air that had lingered in the tower for the past week seemed to finally evaporate just by having her here. Right now L felt… relaxed. 

“What are you laughing about?” Miyuki inquires, and L hadn’t even noticed the chuckles coming out of his mouth. She had a way of drawing out the childish joy in him that even he seemed to forget existed. Hugging his knees, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing, I’m simply enamored with you. You have brought a light with you I feared had diminished inside me.” 

Blushing like mad, Miyuki smiles brightly, shining like a thousand stars, “I’m glad. Watari said you’d been missing me lately. You’ve had a lot on your plate and he figured that having me around might give you some peace of mind and focus.” 

“I believe he was correct,” L agrees, “I’d say my sense of peace has risen by at least 60%, and my focus even more so. Though I must admit… my focus is most certainly not on the investigation at the moment. Rather, it’s on someone else entirely.” 

She waves a hand in dismissal, her smile still cheek to cheek. L can barely help the smile on his own face as he stares her down from his hunched position across from her. He could stare at her for hours, there was just something about her that drew his attention like nothing else. If asked 5 years ago, L would say he didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the moment he met (Y/N), that all changed in an instant. 

In an attempt to make some sort of small talk, L hums, “I’d ask how your family is, but your father made it evident on the phone he still hates me.” Miyuki sighs, her smile only diminishing slightly, “Well, you know how papa is, after all that stuff that happened with my uncle getting killed that summer we met, he’s been extra protective of me.” 

“I think it’s only natural for him to feel that way, given everything that’s happened,” L remarks. 

Miyuki shrugs, “I suppose, I just wish he would be more accepting of you.” She pauses for a moment before laughing softly, “You know, my grandma keeps telling me that I should dump you if you aren’t going to propose soon.” Raising her finger she does a poor impression of a scolding elderly woman, “‘It’s been five years and there’s no ring on your finger, you’d be better off finding someone who actually wants to make an honest woman of you.’”

L freezes in his seat, his shoulders tensing and his thumb stopping all motions against his lips. With eyes slightly widened, he nervously asks, “You… don’t plan on taking that advice, do you?”

Noticing the way he was gripping his knees, Miyuki suddenly stops laughing. “Of course not, cream puff,” she assures vehemently. Getting up from her seat, she walks across the space between the two couches to sit next to L. Turning towards him, she puts her hands on the cushions close to his leg. “I told you at the end of that summer that I would wait for you, always.”

The tension in his body loosens at her proximity, but he hangs his head slightly, thinking as he resumes rubbing his lip. He sighs, his shaggy hair hiding his dejected face, “But perhaps… you shouldn’t. I fear your grandmother makes an excellent point, dear. It’s foolish for you to continue ‘throwing your life away’ as your father would put it.” 

Miyuki shakes her head, “What are you talking about? Why would you even say that?” 

With a huff, L unfurls himself from his seat, placing his bare feet on the carpet below him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he studies the patterned floor, tracing each shape with his eyes as he talks, “It’s just that… we have been in a relationship for half a decade now, and in all that time, we’ve spent a total of exactly 164 days, 13 hours, and 37- no, 38 minutes, physically together. This job of mine… it hardly allows for a social life of any kind, let alone a relationship of this nature.” He lifts and turns his head slightly, looking at her from beneath his overgrown bangs, “I simply feel that… you deserve an ordinary life. A life that only an ordinary man can give you… a man that is nothing like me.” 

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Miyuki argues, “You’re just as ‘normal’ as any other man. You’re strong, and handsome, and-” 

“Darling,” he interrupts, “please don’t lie to me. You know just as well as I do that this life I live is far from typical. I never had a normal childhood, never had real friends, and I became a professional detective at a time when I should have still been in grade school.” A pale hand reaches out to hold Miyuki’s thigh, “I care about you… immensely. I want you to have everything you desire in this life, but unfortunately… it may not be something that I can give you, despite my very deep desire to do so.”

Enveloping L’s hand, Miyuki grabs hold of him, tears welling in her eyes, “I don’t care about any of that,” she assures. “At the end of that summer, before you left for your next case, I told you I would wait for you, always,” she scoots just a hair closer, “I meant that then and I still mean it now. I wouldn’t have come all this way behind my family’s back to be here if I didn’t. L… I love you. I don’t care if that means I only get bits and pieces you manage to spare from your hectic life. I’ll take whatever I can have if it means I get to be yours.”

The detective studies her face with a full heart, his tired eyes watching every twitch and shift of her features. She truly meant every word she just said. She is in love with him, and she would do anything to stay in his life… no matter what sacrifices that entailed. For a moment, he thinks of Light Yagami. He may have Misa’s adoration, but L… L has (Y/N)’s devotion. He had half a mind to kiss her right then. 

Miyuki swallows the lump in her throat as her boyfriend continues to stare her down, his eyes flicking between her own and their hands clasped between them. He seemed so far off yet close at the same time, and she knew this meant he was busy thinking about something. His eyes usually glaze over in a certain way when he is lost deep in his thoughts. 

When he continues to stay silent for more than she is comfortable, she squeezes his hand to ground him. “Uh, cream puff?” she nervously chuckles, “Are you okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?”

L blinks, refocusing his attention on the woman at his side. “What? Oh I’m sorry, I just trailed off for a moment.” He releases her hand, repositioning himself on the couch in his typical pose, this time turned to face her completely. As he rubs his thumb against his mouth once more, he begins mumbling to himself, “There’s no way she would refuse… it’s the only way…” 

With increasing concern in her voice, Miyuki bites her lip, “L? Is… everything okay?” 

He ignores her question and instead asks her one of his own, leaning forward ever so slightly to closely observe her reaction. “You love me, correct? So much that you hang by the phone everyday just to hear my voice? That you would wait for months on end just to spend a long weekend with me?” 

Almost offended by the question, Miyuki blinks rapidly, “Of course I love you. I’d do anything for you.” 

“Even upset your own family?” he further questions, “They never have liked me, and I’m sure they’ve tried many times to convince you to end things with me. Perhaps they’ve even set you up with other men your age to get you to forget about me.” 

“Well… yes, they have,” she sheepishly admits, “but I always turned those guys away. I don’t need them, I have the best guy in the world.” 

L smirks at that last comment, “And I always appreciate your flattery, dear.” He tilts his head before continuing his questioning, “If there were a way that we could stay together full time, travel together, and see one another every day, you would want to do that, correct?” 

“Absolutely,” she answers with no hesitation. “But you just said we can’t… because of your work.” 

“Yes I did say that,” he nods, “However, I believe I’ve come up with a solution that would not only benefit you and I, but would perhaps appease your family as well. Or at the very least, give your grandmother one less thing to complain about…” he trails off again for a moment, biting his thumb before raising an eyebrow, “You would say yes if I asked you, right?” 

“Asked me what?” Miyuki questions, thinking there’s no way he could possibly be talking about what she thinks he is. 

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out…” he mutters to himself. Getting up off the couch, L takes the plump hand of his girlfriend before kneeling beside her on the carpet. Looking up at her blushing face, his equally nervous, red, features quiver as he utters the question that has been weighing on his heart for many years, “Would you marry me?”

Her eyes shoot open, nearly wide enough to pop out of her head, “Cream puff… do you really mean it?” 

Swallowing, he grips her hand a hair tighter, “Why would I have any reason to lie to you? I have been deeply in love with you since I was a teenager, and despite the constant distance and secrecy between us, you’ve stayed loyal and faithful to me. If I were to take you as my wife, you would never have to be without me again. You could travel with me for work, I could finally shower you in all the gifts and affection you deserve, and I could sleep easier at night knowing I wouldn’t have to wait even a day to see you once more. I could even tell you my real name after all this time.” 

Miyuki is speechless, her eyes pooling with tears, blurring her vision of the man on the floor in front of her. Shoulders sinking, he loosens his hold on her hand, “But… perhaps that is too much to ask of you. It would be selfish of me to wish to take you away from your family, to want to tie you to me forever,” he goes to stand up, “Forgive me, I should have never-” 

“No,” Miyuki shouts, grabbing his hand and yanking him back down, “I would, I’d do it. I’d do whatever I had to to be with you.” 

“Are you sure?” he asks, a self deprecating sadness glinting in his eyes. “If you want to, we can continue on the way we are. I just… thought that might be a possibility you’d like to consider… I can’t deny it’s a fantasy I’ve indulged in during some of my more restless nights. Thinking of you… it gives me a clarity I can’t find anywhere else.” 

Fantasy. That’s the word he used. He truly felt it was a fantasy to even think that she would want to be with him forever. Yet, after that confession, how could she possibly even think to say no? Under his seemingly aloof and calculating exterior, L was still a man, a man with a heart that yearned to be with the woman he loved. 

“I’m sure, L,” Miyuki mumbles through the tears streaming down her soft cheeks, “I love you so much. I…” she starts crying even more, unable to hold in the emotions filling her heart, “I wanna be your wife… more than anything.”

“So… you will marry me?” he asks once more, just to clarify. 

She simply nods with a resounding, “Yes.” A smile spreads across his lips as relief washes through him. L had solved some of the most dangerous, high profile criminal cases on this planet, but proposing to his girlfriend just now had been the single most terrifying experience of his life. 

It almost comforted him to feel so normal at that moment. He was just a man, in love, promising to spend his life with the one person who meant more to him than anything, as so many ordinary people do every day. He could quickly feel his heart filling up, nearly fit to burst. 

Taking him by the collar of his shirt, Miyuki pulls L to her lips, kissing him with all the ferocity and love she could muster. The first time she would ever kiss her fiance. 

Pulling away, she leans her forehead on his, “I love you, L.” With a smile on his kiss swollen, perfectly pink, lips he reaches up to hold her hair, gently rubbing the back of her head, “And I love you… until death do we part.”

#l lawliet x reader #l lawliet #death note fanfiction #l death note #death note l #death note #l lawliet x you #l lawliet x y/n