#characters with dark powers threatening to control them?

[cardcaptor747]

I LOVE CHARACTERS WITH THIS SPECIFIC VIBE

[mononijikayu]

the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

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

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

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

WORD COUNT: 11k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, it was your turn.

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[venussaidso]

Mars Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕

warnings!: mentions of mass-suicide and violence.

Nakshatra rulership indicates deeper behavioural patterns and specific talents rather than one’s fundamental personality, which is more governed by rashi rulership. This is why I do not prefer mixing rashi and nakshatra observations together, though there are exceptions — such as the rebellious and tantalizing nature of Mars being innately found in all Mars nakshatras and Mars signs. For example; Mars nakshatras are found in many well-known sex symbols, Anuradha may embody the Lilith archetype, Ashwini and Jyestha are known for being audacious and individualistic, while Bharani poetically merges violence — a radical form of rebellion — with beauty, making them one. But the consistent theme observed for this exploration is that Mars nakshatras focus more on bursts of energy, controversy, and the refinement through that.

There's definitely a heightened sense of energy and even aggression in this section of Earth & Air signs, supporting their pure drive through the mentioned themes I'll be touching on. And the themes are very typical of this planetary rulership.

There is this genre in challenging natural order and pursuing one's ideals, a recurring theme in Mars nakshatras, especially in ways that are so radical and even explosive. This can also be seen in mythologies that are particularly associated with Martian figures, such as Andhaka.

I may see an association with Andhaka to the Mars energy found in Ashwini nakshatra, as Andhaka was born blind, symbolizing an unreasonable destructive force. He also symbolizes darkness and ignorance, the combination of Mars's unyielding energy with Ketu's tamasic nature perfectly pointing to Ashwini. Yet, the guna of Dhanishta and Chitra is tamasic — meaning that Andhaka is a greater representation for these nakshatras. Both are considered demonic, which solidifies their connection to Andhaka who is considered a malevolent demon.

Mars is generally the planet most associated with Andhaka, as it highlights aggression and the drive for power. One of Andhaka's closest parallels are the fictional characters, Thanos and Ultron, from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. These parallels lie in the legend of Andhaka, this powerful asura (demon) who, despite his humble beginnings, sought to reshape existence according to his own vision. Though blind from birth, he gained invincibility through immense penance and sheer willpower (symbolizing the level of discipline this planet represents) and he commanded an army so strong that it threatened the cosmic balance. Andhaka believed himself worthy of ruling the universe, waging war against Shiva himself, and refusing to yield even in the face of destruction.

Like the character Thanos, Andhaka saw himself as a necessary force of change, willing to eliminate obstacles — including the Creator (Shiva) — to establish a new order.

Even the character Kylo Ren is another Dhanistha archetype, being played by the Dhanistha Ascendant native Adam Driver. Kylo has a vision of a new order, which is not just about destroying the past, but reshaping the galaxy according to his own ideals.

His intensely ambitious and destructive qualities, but also his capacity for transformation, signify the Mars influence. This being a tamasic nakshatra means that it thrives on intensity, chaos, destruction, and rebirth, reflecting his volatility & his drive to tear down the past to build something new (we also see his rise to power when he seizes control of the First Order after killing Snoke, wanting to be his own master rather than to continue to serve a higher authority. Though Dhanistha instills servitude, there's still potential for aggressive rebellion, as this nakshatra reflects self-empowerment — however extreme it may manifest).

Unfortunately, we have seen this mindset, in real time, with world leaders who forced a new order in their own country which essentially became a threat to everyone but them.

Donald Trump, who has Mrigashira Sun, easily comes to mind. Vladimir Putin, who Donald Trump now wants to take after, could have possible Chitra ASC. Xi Jinping also has Mrigashira Sun. And Adolf Hitler, who had a lot of Mars influence, with Chitra ASC and Ashwini Sun conjunct Mars. Even Benjamin Netanyahu, leading genocide for his fascist visions, has Chitra Sun & Moon. Regardless of all of their different ideals, they are examples of Mars functioning not only as a destabilizing force, but as a domineering one too. It needs submission. And so Martians will always have minions and enablers.

Again, Ashwini is Mars energy at its highest levels due to the nodal influence. And according to Claire Nakti, in her Serial Killer exploration, she states that whatever Ketu is conjunct, the themes of that planet become exaggerated or extreme — due to its sucking receptivity; further giving a perspective on Mars and Ketu energies together — which are both tamasic.

Similarly to Andhaka, Ultron, in his pursuit of ultimate evolution, had a plan to replace flawed organic life with a machine-driven future, much like Andhaka's attempt to overthrow divine order with his newfound strength. Both the mythology and Ultron's story arc portray Mars as an agent of transformation, however destructive it is, in them commanding armies and defying all limitations. Mars breaks barriers, in the first place.

This also means that Mars is a symbol of resistance, rebellion and growth as well. The character Katniss Everdeen, played by Mrigashira Moon native Jennifer Lawrence, in The Hunger Games sequel, stands against an oppressive, totalitarian government — her defiance sparking a revolution which threatens to dismantle the system and ultimately break all barriers to force freedom to all.

This is quite reminiscent of the character Curtis Everett, in the film Snowpiercer, who is played by Mrigashira Sun native Chris Evans. Curtis has held deep resentment for the Wilford's corrupt leadership (basically the elite people) and he is determined to lead a revolt against the elite of the front of the train. Another layer which highlights this character as Martian is his engagement in the horrible violence and chaos that ensues. The film is directed by Chitra Moon native Bong Joon Ho.

Violence is used as an equalizing force, since Mars does not moralize and acts on necessity instead. Counter-violence, in some of these films led by Martian natives, is done to balance power structures, rather than cause annihilation. Violence -> restoration.

Mars, being the warrior archetype, embodies the natural response to oppression with absolute force. So such influence will be often seen in strong, revolutionary leaders — even if they do not outright promote violence as a first resort, you will sense their Martian power. Such as the Ashwini Moon native Malcolm X, who strongly believed in self-defense, criticizing passive resistance.

Assata Shakur has Mrigashira Moon.

It is fascinating that Kendrick Lamar, and Tupac Shakur, are considered revolutionary thinkers — both having implemented messages of resistance with their mainstream appeal. Mrigashira Sun, Chitra ASC Kendrick Lamar especially with his aggressive delivery in his album To Pimp a Butterfly, and Mrigashira Sun native Tupac Shakur whose tracks ranged from introspective/political to raw street anthems.

The restless energy in all Mars nakshatras is already responsible for pushing one forward, even to the extremes, to initiate or force change; this being something clearly seen in breaking boundaries or challenging the status quo. Mrigashira’s association with breaking free is rooted in its dual focus on exploration/seeking and self-liberation/evolution, exactly why stagnancy or oppression cannot be allowed any longer — making this a very rebellious nakshatra. This notion of Mars seeking to transcend stagnancy can extend in other themes. This restlessness is seen through sexual impulses in the Netflix series Sex/Life.

As it is known, Mars in your chart governs one's sex drive and desires. This fiery planet represents passion and attraction. Mars governs primal urges, which include carnal desire, which can be so transformative for the native — similar to the act of violence to restore balance. According to certain Puranic folklore, when Mangala (Mars) sought a consort, he was rejected by various goddesses due to his raw heat. In the series Sex/Life, Billie's primal urges are so fiery and even animalistic that the energy scares her. But she eventually has to embrace that other identity, as Mars deals with raw empowerment. Exactly why natives with this influence quite literally exude sexuality and vitality, which explains why they become sex symbols in the first place.

But Mars, as it carries tamasic and primal energy in its influence, can make people the most evil, violent and domineering if such energy is not used constructively.

For healthier examples of Mars energy being used constructively, we can look at the film Pump Up the Volume (1990). It stars Chitra Moon Christian Slater, whose character agitates and stirs hidden impulses within the collective, bringing forth suppressed frustrations to the surface through his pirate radio station which gains a large following. His ability to ignite rawness in his listeners, encourage rebellion and self-expression, is something so very Martian. Much like Ketu, Mars can have an intense, subconscious effect on the collective – forcing people to deal with their animalistic nature in an authentic way. Christian Slater's character in Pump Up the Volume becomes the catalyst for unpredictable, at times destructive, reactions — which actually inspire growth more than anything. This film also inspired the Disney movie Radio Rebel (2012), with a similar plot, in which Dhanistha Moon Debby Ryan's character sparks a movement amongst her peers and challenges authority. This theme of being a total disruptor of the status quo or encouraging freedom from restrictive rules is a key element in all Mars influences.

So, the core themes of all of these Mars nakshatras are self-assertion and authenticity, which indicates what is supposed to be cultivated with balancing passion and refinement (Mars pushes for transformation, after all).

This being the planet of raw energy, of impulsive action, and extreme rebellion, can reflect themes of needed chaos and animalistic drive. Both of these movies show the Martian influence behind the incite of radical shifts, often seen in controversy and the destabilization of institutions etc. You will also notice how Mercury nakshatras almost function similarly, especially Revati, the nakshatra of peak expansion, which eliminates all barriers (such as the movie V for Vendetta which is about anarchy). This further supports the constant duo between Mars and Mercury nakshatras.

Mars being the literal planet of war, survival, and primal instinct is translated repeatedly in films about lawlessness, violent anarchy, or rebellion, where the main character, usually a Mars nakshatra native, is able to survive using brute force and wit against outward violence & chaos.

The explosive expression of Mars is so perfectly depicted in the movie Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), directed by Chitra Moon native George Miller.

The film's primal core is survival of the fittest, implementing relentless energy in pursuit of the War Rig. And the character Max, played by Chitra Moon native Tom Hardy, represents the perseverance of Mars, able to navigate the chaos & lawlessness with pure instinct and wit — a trait common in all Mars nakshatras as they possess a level of high intelligence.

The plot of the film also includes a violent rebellion against the tyrannical warlord, and the rich cinematography supports the blend of the explosive, fiery nature of Chitra through its artistic genius. George Miller has definitely succeeded in executing his vision, as this nakshatra grants one the ability to express their grand ideas — the Mars rulership giving the native a higher success rate.

Mars nakshatra natives operating as visionaries who are, at times, self-absorbed, or even extremist, definitely points to the urgency and energetic drive which is provided by Mars. And the ability to even dream or think big is provided by the Venus and Mercury influence. The character JD from Heathers is certainly a terrible manifestation of the selfish visionary.

Jason Dean’s need to remake the world (even if it's through mass suicide) and his desire to tear down the oppressive social system in Heathers ties well into the visionary nature of Chitra. He wants to create a "better" world by destroying the old, his motivation making him parallel characters such as Kylo Ren, or even Ultron, in that sense.

As I've spoken of Kakegurui before (the anime & Japanese live-action), I've highlighted Mary Saotome as Martian as she has been portrayed by the Dhanistha natives, Aoi Morikawa & Minami Tanaka. Mary is the typical queen-bee of the school, caring only about maintaining her dominance over others. But then she falls from grace, and she experiences the harsh reality of being at the bottom of the hierarchy.

However, instead of aiming to overthrow the elite system altogether, the powerlessness she feels from being at the bottom fuels her desire to climb back up the ranks and reclaim her dominance. Usually, once the Martian has gotten some taste of power, they're unwilling to let it go. That's why you get these dualistic themes, as someone like Mary Saotome upholds hierarchal systems while someone like Jason Dean wants to destroy them. But, this may also speak to the difference between Dhanishta nakshatra and the earlier Mars nakshatras.

Dhanishta's purpose is to give one the ability to be on top of any hierarchy, which is exactly why its natives can be extremely gifted or resourceful in many things. Dhanistha would be the Mars nakshatra that is likelier to be the non-disruptor, keeping a harmonious nature within society than challenge or rebel against it for radical change, given that this nakshatra is more focused on discipline and gaining power within restrictions (and that is completely due to its Saturn rulership, making it more passive and self-controlled than its prior trine nakshatras).

So the character Mary Saotome is more calculated than violent, as her goal is not to abolish the oppressive system, but to reclaim power within it.

Kylo Ren is similar to Mary Saotome in this regard, as his goal is not to destroy the system, but to seize control of it. He doesn't care about dismantling the Sith or the First Order — he wants to rule over it. Rather than abolishing it, he embraces the Sith-Imperial power structure and works to remake it under his rule. He manipulates, schemes and positions himself to gain power, very similar to Loki, who is played by Dhanistha Sun Tom Hiddleston. Just like Loki, Kylo also has a deep need for validation and power.

Both Jason Dean and Kylo Ren are both driven by anger, rebellion, and a desire to break free from the system — but on their own terms. Though JD believes in destruction, Kylo believes in power. These Martian natives have a singular vision which they spend the majority of the time trying to make a reality. Both of them fall in love, or form an intense connection, with a Mercury nakshatra native who start off idealistic and resistant to the Martian's radical, destructive methods. Rey is played by Revati Sun Daisy Ridley and Veronica Sawyer is played by the Jyestha Ascendant native Winona Ryder. Both Rey and Veronica are challenged to join the dark side with their Martian counterparts, as JD wants Veronica to embrace the chaos and destruction with him, while Kylo wants Rey to rule alongside him.

The very reason why these Mercury nakshatra natives find themselves in an interplay with Mars nakshatra natives is because of their similarities. Rey grew up abandoned and powerless, resenting the idea that worth and power was only reserved for certain bloodlines — typical of Revati nakshatra as it symbolizes the search for belonging and completion (she didn’t fit anywhere in any hierarchy, as she floated between worlds; which supports the purpose of this nakshatra to transcend beyond the material <hence why it's called the Wealthy Star, regardless of humble beginnings>, as Revati is ruled by Pushan, the shepherd deity who guides lost souls). And when Kylo voices her frustration, saying to her, "You have no place in this story," this validates her anger and loneliness, as he, too, rejects the rigid power structures that tried to control him. While Veronica despises the toxic social order of her school, where the Heathers dominate, and cruelty is rewarded (her ability to see through the illusions of popularity & power without getting sucked into the superficiality reflects Jyestha’s sharp awareness & strong resilience). JD's desire to burn it all down initially excites Veronica, only to then scare her away because his destructive, power-driven acts make him no different to the tyrants she wanted nothing to do with in the first place.

To the theme of lawlessness, the film The Purge (2013), quickly comes to mind. It is directed by James DeMonaco, who has his Sun and Moon in Chitra nakshatra, about the institutional breakdown of a government which legalizes crime for one night, encouraging unrestrained Mars energy at its purest.

The film Escape from New York (1981) also has an aspect of lawlessness to it, as New York City is basically a prison to the most dangerous inmates ever — making it a chaotic jungle. It stars Mrigashira ASC native Kurt Russell who plays the character Snake Plissken. He embodies the combination of Mars and Gemini energy, always having a strategy and being constantly on the move. And like a Martian native, he questions authority and doesn't follow orders blindly, having a rebellious edge to him. His survivalist mentality reflects Mrigashira being a nakshatra of searching and surviving, giving one the ability to thrive in dangerous environments (the nakshatra being symbolized by the deer further signifies alertness and perception).

Martians also falling into warrior archetypes is the least surprising, and it's interesting that they are intuitively cast in huntress roles as well. Mrigashira is linked to tracking, making sense of the obvious connections to the genre of bounty hunting. This nakshatra literally embodies the mindset of a seeker, and due to the Mars influence, extends further to the mind of a huntress. Bounty hunters rely on strategy, intelligence, and tracking abilities to locate fugitives. Mrigashira, being ruled by Soma (Moon), which governs intuition, instinct and adaptability, supports the skillset of the bounty hunter even more.

In the series The Mandalorian, Din Djarin was a bounty hunter who is portrayed by the Mrigashira ASC native Pedro Pascal. In the 1977 film A Man Called Blade, Blade is a hatchet-wielding bounty hunter with a dark past who is played by the Dhanistha Sun & Moon native Maurizio Merli. In Star Wars, Boba Fett is regarded as one of the most fearsome and capable bounty hunters, and he was played by Dhanistha Sun Jeremy Bulloch.

The Mars nakshatras being in both Earth and Air rashi sections points to the importance of structure vs fluidity, suggesting that Mars is mastering both the physical and mental battlefields. The whole mastermind archetype perfectly aligns with these nakshatras, specifically Mrigashira, the nakshatra of the eternal quest for knowledge.

The strategy of Mars, the creativity of Venus (Libra/Taurus), and the craftiness of Mercury (Gemini/Virgo), can make for a theatrical trickster, instigator or mastermind, as seen with the character the Riddler.

As Mars is associated with the head, since it is co-ruling Aries (and the head is more emphasized in Ashwini nakshatra, symbolized by a horse's head which signifies qualities of swiftness such as quick wit); this means that Mars drives intellect, providing one the energy to slice through life with strategy and dominance with accumulated knowledge to defeat opponents, giving one the gift in noticing details that nobody else would (this ability often arises when an individual is on survival-mode, further showing how Mars, being associated with survival of the fittest, makes its natives have a keen sense of awareness). This is exactly why Mars nakshatras are often found in medias that have to do with solving mysteries.

Miss Marple is literally the original female detective. She is an elderly amateur, consulting detective who has been prominently played by Mars nakshatra natives. Throughout many film adaptions, she has been portrayed by the following actresses; Chitra ASC Gracie Fields, Chitra Suns Angela Lansbury and Helen Hayes, Chitra Moon Geraldine McEwan, Dhanistha Moon Joan Hickson, Dhanistha Sun Julia McKenzie. In the series DI Ray, Chitra Moon Parminder Nagra plays a Birmingham-based detective. In the series The Fall, Dhanistha Moon Gillian Anderson is a sharp, determined detective. It reminds me of the relentless detective in the Spanish series Berlin, played by Dhanistha Sun & Moon native Najwa Nimri. Though you'll see Ketu nakshatra natives take up this genre as well, it seems to be dominated by Mars influence. In the film Silence of the Lambs, Magha Moon Jodie Foster plays detective Sterling who is the fixation of a terrifying serial killer; in Hannibal, Jodie Foster is replaced by the Mrigashira Moon & ASC native Julianne Moore, continuing the story as detective Sterling who finds herself in what you'd consider a dark romance, or game of prey-&-predator, with Hannibal (which has to do with Mrigashira nakshatra, in general, more than it just being a Mars nakshatra).

So high IQ, beauty, mass appeal, and dominance can be a full package when it comes to Mars nakshatras. Each Mars nakshatra may provide one with a gift to expand one into elite rooms or into higher positions of power.

Dhanishta nakshatra possesses Khyapayitri Shakti, which is the power to bring fame and abundance. Mrigashira nakshatra, with its seeking nature, is powered by Prinana Shakti, which gives fulfillment. Chitra nakshatra, ruled by Tvashtar, who is the cosmic craftsman, has the ability to accumulate good merit in life from being powered by the Punya Chayani Shakti.

As Dhanistha is associated with rhythm & performance, Mrigashira being partially ruled by Venus, and Chitra's deity, Tvashtar, being the god of artisans and fashioning, it comes as no surprise that these nakshatras are prominently found in the art, entertainment, and fashion industry or in celebrity culture in general. Often the faces of the glitz and glamour.

Chitra especially, since it signifies beauty, meticulousness and expressing imagination on the material plane. Chitra is literally the nakshatra of the visionary.

The Disney princesses I'd confidently associate with Chitra are Moana and Ariel. As this nakshatra is symbolized by the pearl, it points to the pursuit of brilliance. And like the pearl hidden in the ocean, their path involves venturing the unknown, seeking newfound radiance or, similar to Mrigashira, finally capturing the higher power they've always been seeking — showing just how these natives are deeply aligned to fate. Mars provides these characters with enough enthusiasm and restlessness to fulfill that destiny.

Mrigashira, Chitra, and Dhanistha each embody core themes which have to do with the relentless pursuit of fulfilment, whether it be alignment with one's true identity (such as through Mrigashira's trope of memory loss, or Rapunzel retracing her true roots), or knowledge, mastery, status/validation, or freedom. All three nakshatras make individuals challenge their own limitations, as they are a force of growth themselves. This falls perfectly well into the warrior archetype which defies hierarchy and reshapes their reality through strategy, ambition, rebellion, and even violence.

All of this just to say, they have the power of INFLUENCE and IMMENSE GROWTH.

[amazinglyashy]

hello, idk if you're open but if you dooo, can you do HC of lads seeing MC being more...brutal? since we all know our mc is badass but kind right, but what if sometimes she slipped and her darkness come forth more than she usually let on? hahahah idk it just after all mc been through she's more than validated to be villain u kno. so yea! thankchuu

Just a heads up, I am ALWAYS open, it's just a matter of when I get to the request, so as long as you're patient, anyone can send in anything anytime!! :D And ooh, this is an interesting one, but something I've definitely thought about haha. MC's been through a lot, and I feel a lot of readers also have too, and there comes a point when you gotta say screw it, I'm mad now. (I'll also say I'm still really grumpy about how little we get regarding MC's grieving during certain points of the story, and the lack of how the Li's all react as well to the news, no matter how little they know about the situation :/) Thank you for the request <3 hope you enjoy!

Love and Deepspace Li's reaction to seeing you finally snap

Rafayel -

He's somehow... not surprised.

But can you blame him?

The amount of rage Rafayel carries in his heart is constantly, constantly threatening to bubble up to the surface and boil over the edges of his last remaining ounces of humanity. The amount of cruelty on the basis of pure rage that he could commit is not a volume that he is proud to carry, but something he carries heavily though.

So seeing you finally snap is... almost cathartic.

He knows what he's been through, hell- he knows a great deal of what you've been through. Even in the distant past. It would be a wonder if you weren't angry. If you weren't seeing things. If you hadn't 't been simmering up to your breaking point from microaggressions and trauma stacking up and up until-

Here you were.

And for him, it feels like you're doing something of your own volition- feeling something that was entirely your own. Devoid of any outside influence or need to be the kindest person in the room. To keep your head down, path straight and narrow.

And despite the sheer amount of power he possesses in comparison to you, he will admit if asked- that he was just a little bit afraid at first. Even if just for a moment.

And damn, he was proud of you.

Zayne -

Calmly, he watches you.

It's out of character, sure, given how you usually are. Even when you're rude or abrasive, it's never anywhere near... something quite like this.

But the other thing is- he has a good grasp on the human psychic, just from his medical knowledge, even though it isn't his main area of study. He knows what it takes to truly make someone snap, both from personal experience and from his findings in research.

He also knows the extent of things you have been through that have been building up, cumulating into this moment before him where you have finally just broken.

Depending on the level of rage and cruelty you reach, he may stop you, or he may let you go. Either way, his actions are calm and calculated, no matter how he might disagree with, agree with, or fear your actions. He knows someone needs to remain levelheaded in this situation, and he's more than capable of taking on that role.

Gods forbid once you calm down that you feel guilty. If what you did was uncalled for or wrong, he'll discuss it with you, but if there was justifications to your actions or experiences and trauma that had led you to your moment, he'll just pull you into a hug slowly, his expression even.

He'll say it if he needs to, but his actions will hopefully tell you that nothing, nothing you do will ever change his love for you.

Xavier -

He's startled.

He himself is used to having complete control over his emotions, to the point where he can disguise them exceedingly well to maintain a calm aura. So seeing you fully snap and head down a warpath, it's... shocking.

But he's not entirely surprised.

Honestly, he would be more surprised if you had never got this angry at all, given the things you had told him under the covers in his bed, after a particularly late night in his apartment watching movies together.

You've been through a lot.

He knows that.

He knows how it hurts.

So when you finally rage, it takes him a few moments for even the thought of stopping you to enter his mind. And even when it does, he first has to have a small battle internally on whether or not letting you go off and have your cathartic moment is better, even at the cost of a little bit of destruction.

He'll stop you if it's particularly dangerous though, even if it means having to wrestle you away from whatever it is that was taking the brunt of your anger.

Otherwise, he'll just let you go.

Whenever you're done though, if you dare try and steal a glance back towards him, afraid that you may have scared him or made him scared or angry with you-

He'll just flash you a small, comforting smile.

Sylus -

Sylus spends the majority of his time in a cesspool of seething rage, backstabbing psychopaths, and fake smiles that take advantage of the weak and needy.

Anger for himself, anger towards others, anger to benefit others who can't seem to get angry themselves-

If anyone knows what fury is, it's him. Whether secondhand, personally, or just being around it for so long, he knows the emotion intimately well and every single shape or form that it could possibly take.

Still, seeing you suddenly lose it is... surprising.

He likes it.

Not in a way where he's turned on necessarily (though it is an additional feeling), but the enjoyment stems from constantly seeing you put others before yourself- watching you make yourself small so that the people around you could be big- and now finally watching you take what you deserved in his eyes.

He won't intervene unless you're doing something he knows you'll deeply regret later, instead favoring watching you until you've burnt out and finished to the end.

He's mostly quiet, he knows it's probably not something you want to talk about, like most people wouldn't want to after a particularly vicious outburst in an argument. But he can't help a few small comments.

"I'm surprised. I never thought the kitten had such big claws. You really surprised me, sweetie."

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

In universe, how long d'you think does it take for someone to write Jake Berenson: The Musical? And what's everyone's reactions once it premiers?

I feel like everyone would go into the musical with no small amount of trepidation, because a) musical, and b) actual war. That said...

Act I, Scene 1: Our protagonist, Jake, comes onstage alone. He sings a song about the aching loneliness of leadership. Not only does he have to decide how to lead his friends, not only does he have no one to confide in, but now his entire family are controllers. He's worried for his parents, but feels he cannot confide that worry in anyone.

Out in the audience, Cassie reaches for Jake's hand, tears sparkling in her eyes. As soon as her hand rests on top of his, he jerks awake with a mumbled apology about how slow ballads aren't his thing. He asks Cassie what he missed. This pattern will continue for the entire rest of the show.

Act I, Scene 2: We meet our narrator, who for some reason is one of the Trekkin' Trekkies from the battle for the hork-bajir valley. His name is Angelo and he's a fictional character, but he introduces four other Trekkies, meant to be the Carpenter family, as the Geek Chorus. The play apparently considers this deeply clever.

In the audience, Tobias glances over at Ax, who holds up an ASL 84: their time left in morph. Next to them, in a not-quiet-enough whisper, Cassie is reminding Jake who the Carpenters were. Yes, she's aware they met the Carpenters before his parents were infested. No, she doesn't think the writers care. This seems to be an artistic interpretation of — Would he just watch the show?

Act I, Scene 3: The actor playing Jake calls his five friends onstage. They're all currently humans, so the Geek Chorus introduces them so that everyone will know who is who. Together, they sing a song about the hopelessness of the war, the power of friendship, and how all they have is each other.

Marco leans over to nudge Tobias. "Love the hair," he whispers, referring to show-Tobias's elaborate dark-brown coif. Tobias gives him a real smile in return, not because he likes fictional-him's hair but because he's secretly pleased that the show so clearly put effort into casting himself and Ax to look alike. Doesn't matter that they don't actually share any DNA; family is family.

Act I, Scene 4: The morphing. Oh lord, the morphing. The idea to make it a dance number—cum—costume change is kinda cool. The use of very saggy-looking cloth puppets is... less so. The fact that the Angelo and his Geek Chorus introduces The God of Tigers, The God of Gorillas, and so on is... inexplicable. Especially because The God of Andalites is just a human guy who has been painted blue. Presumably this is all to distract from the puppet show, which ranges dramatically in quality. By far the best effect is Tobias: they have the human actor fly a bird-puppet across the stage on long posts overhead, all the while staring wistfully up at it as if simultaneously inhabiting the bird and being a human watching the bird longingly from the ground. By far the worst is Rachel: she's just an elephant head that clearly has no body attached to it, poking out from behind various pieces of scenery.

In the audience, Marco is laughing so hard that he's threatening to fall out of his seat, doubled over with his fingers stuffed in his mouth. Cassie nudges Jake awake again, but in a you've got to see this kind of way. "Damn," Tobias mutters, "guess the Ellimist really really hated that production of The Lion King, huh?" Ax misses all of this, too busy staring at The God of Andalites with his mouth half-open in confusion, several mini-marshmallows falling onto his lap in the process.

Act I, Scene 5: Visser Three steals the show. In order to convey the battle for the hork-bajir valley, the cast starts to go into the big company number — the Trekkies singing about how they're going to defend their planet, the Animorphs singing about their morphs, a human dressed as a hork-bajir singing about forging a new home, the controller chorus singing about wanting more bodies — only to have the whole thing blown out of the water by the actors playing Visser Three singing overtop everyone else and drowning them out. That's right, actors: he's in his eight-headed fire-shooting morph, and each of the heads is played by a different actor as they belt out his song in unison overtop everyone else.

"Am I... cheering for Visser Three right now?" Marco whispers to Cassie, who shrugs. Jake jerks awake at the mention of Visser Three, mumbles something about how Hamilton was better, and goes back to sleep. But Marco's not the only one.

Act I, Scene 6: There's supposed to be a battle or something, and if we're supposed to be very sad when Richard Carpenter is heroically killed protecting his kids... but Visser Three is so damn awesome that the whole audience cheers every time he bites someone's head off or throws another Animorph off-stage. Eventually the battle ends just like it did in reality, with the hork-bajir flooding the valley to sweep Visser Three away, at which point everyone boos and even briefly breaks into a chant demanding Visser Three get an encore.

Tobias momentarily questions his entire existence as he enthusiastically joins in with Marco and most of the rest of the audience in chanting "Vis-ser Three! Vis-ser Three!". They're still going strong a good two minutes after the curtain fell, and there's no sign of anyone being able to go into the next scene. Jake mutters something about his having been Visser One at this point in the war, lost under the sound of Cassie joining in with the chant.

Act I, Scene 7: The curtain opens to a set piece that's clearly meant to be a giant tree, and all the Animorphs are sitting in said tree. The stage is covered in smoke from dry ice, meant to convey foam from the flood. Behind them, in a smaller tree, the surviving Trekkies huddle and drip on the floor. Tobias's human actor now cradles the hawk-puppet in his arms, preening its feathers, while everyone else perches on "branches" in poses that range from natural-looking (Marco in a gorilla costume) to extremely awkward (Ax is meant to be out of morph and... standing on a branch?). Worst of all is Rachel; the elephant head is now sitting directly on the stage, which is meant to convey that the rest of her body is underwater but instead just gives head-in-a-jar vibes. The six of them sing an uplifting rock number about the future of humanity, and the curtain falls on Act I.

After ducking into the bathroom to demorph and remorph, Tobias and Ax head for the concession stand. Marco tries and fails to get a themed cocktail for himself, but does succeed in buying a tiger brownie for Jake. Meanwhile, Cassie is attempting to summarize the entire show to Jake as he wipes drool off the side of his face.

Act II, Scene 1: One of the better songs in the show, honestly. It begins when the surviving Geek Chorus come out in front of the curtain, lay out sleeping bags, and apparently — though it can't be real because the auditorium doesn't fill with smoke — light a fire on stage. They huddle around it and sing a sad little melody about Richard Carpenter. Jake walks past them, and as he goes, first one side of the curtain then the other opens to reveal five more campfires dotted around the stage. Jake stops to speak briefly with each of the little groups, checking in, though no dialog is heard. Tobias sits at one with a blond woman who must be Loren, human for now and petting a stuffed dog. Cassie is at the next fire back with both her parents, and Marco is at far stage left with his. Rachel is sitting with Sara in her lap as Jordan and Naomi talk to her across the fire. An actor who must be playing Jara leads on a smaller costar also dressed as a hork-bajir, presumably Toby, and they set up a final fire upstage. One by one, each group around the fire joins in the song of mourning. Finally Jake stands alone downstage right, surrounded by warm glowing lights but himself alone in a circle of cold white light, as the last notes fade out.

Tobias mutters something about fire codes. Cassie wipes a tear from her eye, and then kicks Jake in the shins for whispering about how if Eva is right there on the stage, then how could that other guy be Visser Three?

Act II, Scene 2: Jake stands alone in the spotlight as the fires die behind him, and Ax comes in from stage left to join him. Together they go into a number called "The Only Child," about losing a sibling and being one's parents' only hope. During the coda, Elfangor's ghost comes onstage and sings about fatherhood and legacy... to Jake. To add insult to injury, the actor has to walk around Tobias and stand with his back to Tobias and Loren's fire in order to get to his blocking. At least Elfangor takes the time to put a hand on Ax's arm and give him a meaningful look before he exits stage right, but he has to walk around Tobias a second time to do so.

Cassie and Marco exchange a glance and a wince, before both of them look toward Tobias. Luckily he's rolling his eyes, not appearing offended. It's Ax who gets halfway to standing up before Jake puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head. In undertones, they start plotting an angry letter to the director.

Act II, Scene 3: Luckily, this is when Visser Three comes back, to uproarious approval. Now the eight actors are each playing four arms of a Lerdethak vine-beast, and in unison sing a campy rock number called "Kids These Days," about Visser Three's hatred for teenagers. In the background, the controller chorus is working to build a new yeerk pool as the Trekkies narrate about the Yeerk Empire expanding its reach on Earth.

All the Animorphs join in on the audience's cheers, and this time they do get an encore: the Visser Three actors sing a whole bunch more riffs on the final note of the song, and even do the coda again from the top, to universal acclaim.

Act II, Scene 4: The various gods of the animal spirits do a number about how the Animorphs aren't just fighting for humanity; they're fighting for Earth.

This one goes up like a lead balloon. Jake picks brownie crumbs out of his shirt, regretting that the chocolate is now keeping him from sleeping. Marco reads his program and groans loudly to learn that Visser Three doesn't have any solo numbers left. A kid is kicking the back of Tobias's seat, and he debates kicking back.

Act II, Scene 5: The Animorphs morph again, which is just as awful as the first time, and they all attack Visser Three (to general audience disapproval). In this version of events, Ax simply announces to Visser Three that they partnered with some rebel yeerks and taxxons at some point, and then throws a switch that turns off every ship in the Yeerk Empire at once. Since the Animorphs are all in the Pool ship at the time, this seems ill-advised; projections on the back wall convey everyone onboard falling to Earth.

"Why do they even have that lever?" Marco asks plaintively. No one answers him.

Act II, Scene 6: Everyone, including Elfangor's ghost and Richard Carpenter for some reason, comes back on stage for a big dance number. The Animorphs remain in morph for this scene, with Tobias's actor once again killing it as he swoops his puppet kite-like over the audience and Rachel's actor once again DOA as she half-heartedly waves one ear.

Everyone claps politely through the chorus's bow, then Elfangor's bow, then the parents' bow, then the hork-bajir's bow... and then Visser Three comes out to bow. The crowd is instantly on its feet, screaming and stomping and applauding with their hands in the air. Then people start trickling out and having side conversations during the Animorphs' bows. Tobias gets in line to have the Tobias actor autograph his playbill. "I told you we should've gone to see Assassins," Marco complains, and Cassie laughingly agrees. Jake buys another tiger brownie for the road, and gets one for Ax as well.

[cursedcola]

Discussion: "The Prophecy of Twisted Godhood" <- A reimagining of Twisted Wonderland through Greek Mythology. Where instead of a world based on Disney - Yuu is sent to a school meant to train demigods in another realm. Dormitories: Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw (here) || Octavanille || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Ramshackle (full lore and main plot outline) || Others Notes: Hey everyone - believe it or not, this was the original idea back when I started working on my TWST otome. I went a more traditional route since I wanted more of an immersive product...but I still have all of these ideas, y'know? So why not share them since I won't be making it into a game. Character designs and comics might come if i ever want to add more

Premise: The Prophecy of the Gods’ Reawakening

At NRC on the Isle of Gods, a prestigious institution built upon the ruins of ancient temples, Yuu (the protagonist) is just another student. However, Yuu’s, a supposed ‘godless human’, arrival is no accident—there’s an ancient prophecy surrounding them that foretells the fall of all gods, threatening the balance between the mortal and divine worlds.

The gods, once all-powerful, are losing their grip over their domains. Their children, the demigods, have become restless, each facing the expectations of their divine parentage while undergoing trials at NRC. The mortals are unaware of the ancient forces at play, but Yuu is caught in the center of this storm by ‘chance’ with no power to return to their realm. As they unravel the ties between the demigods, Yuu discovers that their very existence could either restore the gods' reign or bring about their ultimate downfall.

The students of Night Raven College, in this realm known as Nether Realms College, split into seven dormitories, each reflect different aspects of the divine legacy that they inherit. Each dorm conflict mirrors a myth or curse, and Yuu must navigate these volatile relationships and broken alliances, all while uncovering their own mysterious divine heritage.

Savanaclaw - The Realm of Strength and Pride

In Savanaclaw - in this world given the name 'Koryphaios Dormitory' -, the students’ connections to their divine parentage are fraught with tension, pride, and deep-rooted desires to prove themselves. Each character’s mythological legacy resonates with struggles for power, identity, and the impact of their divine inheritance. As Yuu enters Night Raven College and begins to unravel the Prophecy of the Gods' Reawakening, the dorm members’ challenges become interwoven with the prophecy’s dark implications. Each student wrestles with their own fate, seeking to carve out a future for themselves in a world where the gods’ power is waning.

As Yuu interacts with the members of Koryphaios, they’ll learn that the dorm’s issues are rooted in deeper, personal conflicts tied to the demigods' desire for recognition, transformation, and control over their destiny. This will not only challenge Yuu’s understanding of power and leadership but also force them to seek clarity regarding their presence in this realm – establishing a connection to the plot and this world.

As Yuu interacts with these characters, they will be forced to navigate the balance between strength and humility, loyalty and independence, destiny and free will. Those in Savanaclaw respect their gods for their power but are on unequal footing which breeds conflict. While each member of Savanaclaw struggles with their relation to their god, Yuu's unforeseen presence serves as a catalyst for change (as the godless are meant to be uninvolved, throwing a wrench into regimine and twarting the characters’ individual agendas), forcing the dorm to confront their weaknesses and ultimately become more united in their shared goal.

Through Yuu’s journey, the Koryphaios students will learn that true leadership isn’t about power or dominance but about knowing when to lead and when to follow, sacrifice for others, and recognize their own worth in the eyes of the gods and mortals alike.

Leona KingScholar - Son of Astraeus (Titan of the Stars and Planets)

Reasoning: Astraeus was a strategic figure, working quietly behind the scenes to influence the winds and the stars. Similarly, Leona is observant, calculating, and prefers to act when the moment is right, rather than impulsively.

Connection: Leona’s struggle is rooted in his desire to be recognized and to enact change, despite being second-born. Astraeus, while not the most outwardly powerful, had a significant influence on the cosmos, akin to Leona’s overlooked but potent leadership potential.

Lore Extension:

Curse of Oedipus – King of Thebes

Reasoning: Oedipus, like Leona, struggled with the limitations imposed on him by fate. Leona’s frustration with his role as second-born parallels Oedipus’ inability to escape the prophecy that shaped his life.

Connection: Leona and Oedipus have a deep desire to prove their worth, not out of selfishness, but because they feel a deep responsibility to lead. Oedipus’ tragic pride and fall mirror Leona’s internal struggle with his unrecognized potential. Oedipus, though flawed, was a respected leader who made sacrifices for his people, much like Leona, who cares deeply for his country and people but struggles with his limited position.

Conflict: Leona, much like Oedipus, is consumed with the frustration of fate and the limitations imposed on him due to his position as second-born. As the second prince of his homeland, Leona's ambition to rule is thwarted by his birthright. Oedipus, in his own myth, was bound by a tragic prophecy that foretold he would kill his father and marry his mother—something he could not avoid despite his attempts to defy it. Leona’s story will parallel this sense of inevitability, as he feels doomed to forever live in his god’s shadow, unable to claim the position he believes he deserves.

Tension with Yuu: Leona's cynicism and bitterness are exacerbated by Yuu's arrival. Yuu, while unassuming and unaware of their divine origins, will inadvertently stir something in Leona—a heavy reminder that even a king may struggle to break free of fate. Leona is bound by a prophecy to belong to the stars, yet he wishes to rule in the mortal realm as a king. He has the most experience with mortal politics and life among the demigods – thinking it the gods responsibility to aid the lives they demand respect from (hierarchy/royalty foil w/ how the sunset savanna treats lower class). Yuu’s adaptation and struggle to exist among the demigods is pitiful to him at first, and they serve as a reminder for his distaste towards the gods (urging his plan for rebellion further). Yet as his underhanded plans to usurp are pulled from under him, Yuu’s presence challenges Leona to question if there is truly no way to break free of the burdens of destiny, or if his own pride and unwillingness to accept help has been what holds him back.

Resolution: Leona will have to learn that leadership is not always about claiming power for oneself but rather earning it through compassion and wisdom. Something he has successfully done within his dorm yet is too stubborn to see.  As the gods power begins to wane, the prophecy will help him realize that true rulers are those who lift others up rather than stand alone on a throne.  Yuu will help him accept that fate may be unavoidable, but the journey is within his control. This can be seen through his relationships with his dormmates – Leona’s mini-kingdom – and how they are the crutch that supports Leona in overcoming what Oedipus’ could not. One may not change the outcome but can manipulate how it comes to pass.

Ruggie Bucchi – Estranged 'Bastard' Son of Hermes

Note: An estranged child is an adult child whom has cut off contact with their parent and/or has a bad relationship with them. A bastard child is one out of wedlock - or in this case, between god and low-born mortal.

Reasoning: Ruggie Bucchi is cunning, resourceful, and always looking for ways to make a quick deal, much like Hermes, the trickster god of commerce, thieves, and travelers. Ruggie, while loyal, is also known for cutting corners to get by and is always on the lookout for opportunities that require little effort for big rewards. Just like Hermes, who can navigate tricky situations and use his wit for gain, Ruggie thrives on cleverness and strategy in his day-to-day life.

Connection: The resourcefulness, cunning nature, and tendency to take advantage of opportunities align Ruggie closely with Hermes

Conflict: Ruggie Bucchi, ever the schemer and opportunist, mirrors Hermes’ ability to navigate tricky situations and use wit for personal gain. While his cleverness makes him an invaluable ally in many situations, Ruggie’s primary struggle revolves around his loyalty to those around him and his desire to escape the hardships of his upbringing – this includes his father, whom abandoned him when faced with opposition from the other gods (having committed taboo in a passing fling, resulting in Ruggie’s birth). Ruggie was left to be raised by his mortal grandmother in the slums, until approached by the high gods to attend NRC, as it was his ‘duty’. Ever the opportunist and unable to pass on their offer to give his mortal family a better life- Ruggie accepted as a recognized son of Hermes.

Tension with Yuu: Ruggie initially sees Yuu as someone to be manipulated for gain—someone he could trick or use as leverage. He has a complex relationship with his demigodhood, coming from a clan of the ‘godless’ himself – being nothing more than a passing trick of his father’s. Children of Hermes are bountiful, those born between god and human seen as lesser, yet Ruggie in particular faces prejudice within the school hierarchy because of his upbringing. He climbed through using tricks and a mutual-partnership with Leona. Therefore, Ruggie pities Yuu, yet does not waiver since NRC is free for all. However, Yuu’s integrity and selflessness will challenge Ruggie to reconsider his morally flexible approach to life – reminding him of his time spent in the mortal realm which has been blurred during his time at the Isle of Gods. Their interactions with Leona will revitalize Ruggie’s hope for change, evicting a complex battle between doubt and self-preservation that he has not experienced since boyhood. Through his interactions with Yuu, Ruggie will learn that loyalty is his strongest commodity.

Resolution: Over time, Ruggie will come to respect Yuu’s sense of fairness and selflessness, realizing that while cleverness and cunning can win battles, true loyalty, perseverance, and honesty are what win hearts. Hearts are power, and while unaware of what they hold, Yuu will help him realize that sometimes, real power lies not in investments but in trust and cooperation. His relationship with the gods and his father remains sour – yet he learns that there are allies to be made within NRC walls. He does not walk away changed but is inspired by Yuu’s formidable approach to the school’s hierarchy.

Jack Howl – Son of Athena. Blessing of Calisto

Reasoning: Athena is often associated with wisdom, strategy, and intellect, particularly in warfare. Jack Howl, though more of a straightforward character, does demonstrate a level of insight and strategy in his actions. He might not always show it overtly, but his cleverness and quick thinking are visible in certain situations, especially when helping his friends or working through tough situations. Athena is also the goddess of protection and courage, often stepping in to defend or guide heroes. Similarly, Jack is deeply protective of his friends, dormmates, and morals.  Jack's fierce loyalty and deep connection to his pack of wolves links him to Calisto, a nymph transformed into a bear (which still connects with his wolf-like nature).

Connection: While Jack is more outwardly the "brawn" and Athena is more the "brains," their shared qualities of leadership, protection, and wisdom tie them together. It’s a blend of intellect, strategy, and the willingness to stand up for others that forms the bridge between them. His connection to his pack and potential for transformation magic make him worthy of Calisto's aid, with a twist considering her own tragic connection to wolves.

Conflict: Jack Howl’s fierce loyalty and protective instincts deeply connect him to the myths of both Lycaon and Callisto. Like Lycaon, who was transformed into a wolf as a result of angering Zeus, Jack struggles with his primal instincts and his wolf-like nature. However, instead of being cursed, Jack's bond with the wild is intertwined with Athena's blessing of wisdom and strategy, tempered by Callisto’s gift of transformation. Callisto, a nymph who was tragically turned into a bear, mirrors Jack’s internal battle: her loss of control, her pain, and the way her transformation became a reminder of the wildness that lurked within her. Jack’s struggle revolves around reconciling his deep loyalty to his friends and his pack with the fear that his untamed nature could spiral out of control. His internal conflict drives him to seclude himself, never allowing others to see the beast within.

Tension with Yuu: Jack’s unwavering loyalty to his “pack” makes him a dedicated protector, but he is haunted by the idea that his wild instincts—embodied in his wolf form and his protective nature—could one day turn destructive. As tensions rise at NRC and the gods begin to lose their grip, Jack starts to fear that his primal side will overwhelm him, making him a danger to those he cares about. His strict adherence to routine and discipline is his way of suppressing this inner turmoil. He admires Leona’s perseverance in resisting his own divine nature, seeing him as someone who can keep their emotions and instincts in check. However, Jack’s greatest fear is that, like Callisto, he will lose himself to the wildness inside him, and in doing so, hurt the ones he loves.

Yuu, who is still unraveling their own divine heritage (at this point unaware of their true connection), enters Jack’s life, offering a perspective that challenges his approach to balance. Through Yuu’s journey, Jack comes to realize that balance doesn’t mean suppressing emotions or instincts. It means learning to control them—not through strict repression, but by accepting and understanding them. Yuu’s ability to navigate their own lack of divine power and still find inner strength helps Jack see that embracing his full self is the path toward true control, not just suppressing parts of who he is.

Resolution: In the end, Jack learns to accept both his wolf-like nature and his human side, realizing that true strength comes from understanding and embracing all parts of himself. He doesn’t have to sacrifice his loyalty and protectiveness in order to control his instincts—he can protect others while also honoring his own emotions and needs. His relationship with Yuu helps him realize that it’s okay to be vulnerable and that loyalty doesn’t mean losing yourself in the process of protecting others. Jack’s admiration for Leona’s way of life is challenged, but through his growth, he learns that one must value oneself in order to truly understand and value others. His path becomes one of integration—recognizing that the fierce, loyal protector and the strategic, wise leader within him can coexist harmoniously.

[luna-azzurra]

Dark Romance Prompts #1

The Captor Who Shouldn’t Have a Heart (But He Does And It’s Beating for Her) She’s been taken. Not by accident. Not by mistake. He wanted her, so he took her. She should hate him, does hate him, but the more time she spends locked in his world, the harder it is to tell where the fear ends and something darker begins. Because the real problem isn’t escaping. It’s that a twisted part of her isn’t sure she wants to.

The Hitman Who Was Supposed to Kill Her, But Couldn’t. She saw something she shouldn’t have, and now there’s a price on her head. He was supposed to pull the trigger, but the moment he looks into her eyes, everything changes. She’s terrified of him, and she should be. He’s done unforgivable things. But now he’s the only thing standing between her and the monsters worse than him.

The Villain’s Bargain (Where Love Is Just Another Kind of Trap) She made a deal with the wrong man. A deal she knew was dangerous, but desperation made her reckless. Now, she belongs to him, body, soul, and whatever’s left of her sanity. And he likes watching her struggle. But the more she fights, the more fascinated he becomes. The real game isn’t power anymore. It’s control. And neither of them knows who’s really winning.

The Underground Fighter Who Can’t Decide if He Wants to Protect Her or Ruin Her. She wandered into the wrong place, at the wrong time, and now she’s tangled up in a world of illegal fights, blood money, and a man who is nothing but danger wrapped in bruised knuckles and whispered threats. He should scare her. He does scare her. But when he fights, it’s not just survival in his eyes. It’s something else. Something dark. And it’s looking at her.

The Mafia Prince Who’s Always Had His Eyes on Her. She’s off-limits. Untouchable. A good girl who doesn’t belong anywhere near his world. He’s cruel, merciless, and doesn’t care about things like morality. But when someone else threatens to take her, his patience snaps. If the world won’t keep her safe, he will. Even if it means keeping her for himself.

Here's My Free E-book On Amazon on character development,

And Here’s the Show, Don’t Tell freebie book and my newsletter.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 14

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: this is like to be the second last chapter...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The captain’s breath seeps through your swimsuit bottoms. His shoulders curl as he kneels between your feet, hunched over your pelvis like a wolf at feast. A shiver invades your body, quaking out with a sob. He growls as his nose brushes along your thigh and he bites down on the end of the tie above your hip. He tugs until the fabric slackens. 

You roll your eyes back and dig your nails into the blanket. He frees the other side of your bikini and the last of your defenses collapse. Your thighs tremble as he snarls and nuzzles along your soft flesh. He bites down and you cry out, writhing as you swat his head in surprise. 

He catches your hand without pulling away. He forces it back to the mattress as he reaches for the other. He pins both, crushing your fingers as he teases your skin with teeth and tongue. You wriggle as his breath grazes along your lips, the sensitivity unfurling in your core. It’s too much already. 

He growls again. An animal as he swirls his face in the spiral curls around your cunt. He inhales your scent and buries his nose in you, breathing you in ravenously. His tongue makes you squeak as he dips it between your folds and swipes over your clit. 

You spasm and squeal. You’re not a prude. You might be reticent when it comes to other people but you’re not a stranger to your own body. Yet, you couldn’t predict how much more intense it is when it’s someone else touching you. 

He flicks his tongue again and you whine. Your toes curl and your feet arch. You push your hips down as you try to close your legs. He keeps them wide as he lowers himself to his stomach. He clutches your hands tightly as he rocks his head and hums, lapping you up as he spreads his tongue to taste all of you. 

His groans flutter into you, stirring in your stomach and speckling down your thighs. You quiver and your arms tense as you try to free yourself. He’s too strong. Too powerful. You know that already but you’re terrified. 

He circles your clit with his lips and sucks. You cry out in surprise at the way the pressure coils your insides. He drones in delight as you shake and squeal.

Oh, please stop. Stop! Not just him, but you. Stop feeling. 

Your knees press above his chest as he keeps them trapped at his sides. He guides your hands to the back of his head and holds them there. You stretch your fingers around his skull and whimper. Your hips tilts as his tongue glides between your lips. He angles along your entrance, poking and flicking as you squirm helplessly. 

He pushes his nose against you, rubbing his face in your cunt as he smears your pleasure across his skin. It sickens you despite the thrill swelling in your guts. He purrs and once more tends to your clit, teasing it as you mewl and moan. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as your body cocoons with unbearable heat. You whine through your teeth as your muscles wind tight and your heart pounds wildly. You buck as you cum. He feels it and drinks it up, toying with you until your begging him to stop.  

Once more he drags his nose through your juices, his beard sopping up the mess as he slowly raises himself from between your legs. Your lashes part wetly. His face shines with your bliss as shame scalds your cheeks and chest. He brings your hands up by your head and holds them there as he hovers over you, puffing and panting like a beast. 

“You taste like candy,” he snarls. You shudder and pout at him. Please, it’s enough, isn’t it? He can’t want more. 

You’re wrong. Always wrong. He sits back on his heels once more and pulls you up by your arms. You sit dizzily as he puts your hands on the front of his shorts. You feel him bulging beneath. You snivel and peek up at him in a silent plea. 

“I bet you like how I taste, too,” he grits. 

You squeak and put your head down. You can’t resist. Your hands shake and he drags your fingers up to the button of his fly. You pinch it as he squeezes then reluctantly lets go. It won’t last forever. Not this part, anyway. 

You unzip him and his stomach clenches as he groans. He grabs the back of your neck and you exclaim in surprise. You struggle to pull him through the open vee of the shorts as he thick length throbs. Precum stains along the camo fabric. You grip him and stare dumbly at his swollen head. What do you do now? 

You don’t need to ask as he shoves your head down. You fold over as he grunts and forces your lips against his tip. You taste saltiness as you peel your mouth open and he invades without hesitation. His patience is gone. He’s no longer teasing, he’s demanding. 

He urges you down until you go rigid. You barely repress a gag as he hits your reflex. You can’t breathe. He hooks his other hand under your chin and lifts you, your spit dripping down his veiny shaft. You inhale sharply before he pushes you onto him again. 

You gulp and choke as he snarls and sighs. Your mouth makes revolting noises as your saliva leaks out and stains your face. He rams you up and down, up and down, groaning and grunting as he fucks himself with your mouth. You’re horrified at how his callousness builds with each vile thrust. 

Your tears overflow at last. There’s not holding back. Not for either of you. They mingle with your drool and add to the sopping mess pooling on his shorts. You convulse and hold back a retch as he lifts himself on his knees and delves as deep as he can go. 

“You’re so good, sweetie. So good for The Captain,” he eases you off of him.  

You heave and choke, covering your mouth as it leaks. He brings you up to sit as your hand replaces his on your ragged throat. His eyes flare as he raises himself and shoves down his shorts to his knees. He’s quick, frantic, so much so that you’re completely surprised as he pushes you so you bounce onto the mattress. 

He pulls your leg apart and once more inserts himself between your thighs. He plants an elbow by your head and props himself up as he reaches between your bodies. He strokes himself as he groans, rocking so that his tip rubs up against your folds. He shakes and bites his lip. 

He presses his forehead to yours and growls. He flicks his dick up and down your cunt, prodding until he finds your entrance. You whimper and bring your hands to his arms, feeling his thick biceps. Your thumb presses against a thrumming veins as his eyes are swallowed by shadows. 

“Please--” 

He pushes into you and you wail. He’s too big. Or you’re too small. You don’t know which. All you know is that you can’t handle it. Your nails cut into his muscle as he leans into you and sighs. He sinks further and further, stretching your walls until you feel him in your stomach. You quaver and slap his side. 

“Sy--” You murmur. 

“Shhhh,” he pushes his nose next to yours and nuzzles your cheek. “You feel good, sweetie. Ain’t ya bein’ good for me?” 

He lays his weight into you and flattens you to the mattress. You sob and snivel as your muscles contract and loosen. Your arms fall limb beside you, your legs splay weakly, and you let your neck give out. You meld into the mattress as he starts to pump his hips. 

He brings a hand up to cradle your head. You weep silently, paralysed to his hunger, as he fucks you. He leans your head to the side as he pecks along your neck, his large shoulders curling. His other hand frames your hip as his lips drag over your shoulder. 

He bites into you and your cries peak in horror. His teeth torture your flesh as he ruts harder and harder. He puffs through his nose as he devolves into a spasmodic fit, thrusting deeper and deeper. He bounces you with the bed, smothering you against it as his pelvis claps against yours. 

He growls as his teeth break through your skin. You squeak and squeal until all that escapes you are pathetic babbles. His sweat skin and hair stick to you, repulsing you as the friction of your bodies turns sweltering. 

He pulls his hand from under your hand and puts it flat. He lifts himself, his other hand still clamped around your hips. He bucks into you with long, punctuated thrusts as he watches the motion. You peek down and let out a fraught yawl. You see him fucking you, splitting you in two without mercy. It’s even more painful to see. 

You drop your head down and it lolls. Every part of you aches from his conquering. Your joints, even your knuckles, throb, and your flesh stings each time he rams into you. You blink through your tears as you search for any sliver of hope or relief. There’s nothing. 

He falls onto you again. He whines and twitches as his head hangs over your shoulder. He hugs your skill with his arm and quakes through his release. You feel it flood into you as he slows, his cum leaking out with each thrust. 

You stare at the wall until he stops. Not completely. He stays on top of you, inside you. He goes limp over you as he pants out his adrenaline. 

Your heart races as you feel his calming. He groans and turns his head, tickling you with his nose as he relaxes. He holds you like that until the air is stagnant. The sweat between your bodies turns clammy and the trickle from your cunt grows sticky. 

Your eyes cling to a shape on the table. The large handle of the knife with the finger indents. The blade gleams through your tears. You stare, not daring to move as that thought needles in you. 

He groans again and snakes his arm around your middle. He hugs you as he burrows his face in your neck. You glance down at his head. Cautiously, you bring your hand up to touch the fuzz along his scalp. He sighs in content. 

You pet his head, as if he’s a dog, as if you’re trying to soothe him, keep him placid. Your other arm moves, little by little. You stop and wait after each inch, wary of giving yourself away.  

You shouldn’t. You’re stupid. It’s dangerous. No, this man is dangerous and he’s only going to do that again and again. 

Your hand floats over the knife. You grip it, squeezing it. You lift the weight bit by bit. You raise your arm as you continue to stroke his crown. You stare at his taught flesh, ridges with muscle, and wonder if you can do it. 

Do it! 

You swing your arm down and the blade sinks into the meat of his shoulder. He roars and retracts as you let go of the knife. He sits up in agony as he tries to reach the handle jutting out of him.  

You don’t think, you just move. You jump up from the bed and scramble for the door. His pained growls and grunts continue behind you as the bed creaks under his weight. You hit the wall and continue down the hall. 

You don’t have time to stop and clear your head. Your legs are like jelly but you have to keep going. You rush to the counter and grab the flannel shirt. You hug it under your arm and barrel down the hall. You hit the front door, bursting through, and stomp across the porch. 

As you get to ground, a shadow whips through the dark, and you see Aika sprinting at you on all fours. Another starling roar comes from the house and she stops just before she gets to you. You stop and face her, chest thumping, pulse throbbing. Please... 

Sy hollers again. She sniffs the air in front of you then skitters up to the porch, toward the anguished cries of her owner. You don’t wait any longer. You dash off towards the trees. 

This is it. Your chance. Your one moment to get away. You just have to keep going. You can’t stop. Run! 

You push through the brush, the flannel tight in your hand as you pump your arms. Thorns cut into your legs and arms, sticks jab at the soles of your feet, and stones scatter around your steps. You slip in patches of mud and hiss at the sharp weeds hidden between the roots.  

Go. Go. Go. 

Don’t stop until you see light. 

Don't stop until you’re free. 

[jjkssin]

His unsaid vows.

Pairing: Mafia jk x (fem) reader.

Character count: 6,538

Tropes: Age gap, fragile heroine , anti hero jk, unspoken affection, emotional conflict, past trauma.

The night was quiet except for the distant crackling of the fireplace. Y/N sat by the window, her fingers tracing patterns against the cold glass, lost in the storm raging outside. It mirrored the one within her mind, the relentless turmoil that never ceased, the weight that never lifted.

A low sigh echoed from behind her , she tensed. She knew that sound, knew his presence before he spoke. Jeon.

His footsteps were measured, deliberate. The way he carried himself, exuding power and control, was both terrifying and intoxicating. Six years her senior, he had the patience of a man who had seen too much, done too much. Yet, he had chosen her, bound her to him in ways she barely understood.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" His voice was deep, laced with quiet authority. He didn’t demand answers, but he expected them.

She didn’t turn to face him. "The storm... it's loud tonight."

Jeon sighed again, this time closer. In an instant, she felt the weight of his presence as he crouched beside her chair. A strong, veined and inked hand hand reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He never spoke words of comfort, never told her things would be okay. He simply was solid, unyielding, present.

"Have you eaten?" His tone shifted slightly still firm but with an edge of concern.

She swallowed hard. She hadn’t. The emptiness inside her was more than just physical. It was suffocating.

His fingers slid under her chin, tilting her face toward him. His dark eyes bore into hers, scanning for the answer she wouldn't give.

"You're going to eat," he stated, not a request, not a suggestion.

He was cold in so many ways, his words, his actions but his care was undeniable. He never coddled her, never whispered false reassurances. Instead he acted.

She had seen it in the way he adjusted the heater before she even realized she was cold. The way he left her favorite chocolates on her bedside table, though he never mentioned it. The way he would put her favourite flowers in the vase before she even got to know it. The way his arms would cage her in the dead of night when her mind clawed at her sanity.

"Come." He stood, offering his hand.

She hesitated. Not because she wanted to disobey but because she feared the moment he would grow tired of her. He never said the words, never reassured her that he wouldn’t. But still he was here. Still, he stayed.

She placed her hand in his letting him pull her up, letting him lead.

__

Jeon was no saint. He never pretended to be. His hands were stained, his past filled with shadows and sins he never spoke of. The world feared him, whispered his name with caution, knowing that behind his silent demeanor lay a man capable of destruction. Power came at a cost and he had paid it in full.

Jeon was a man carved from ice. His every move was deliberate, calculated as if his very existence depended on maintaining absolute control. To him, love was a distant concept, a weakness that threatened to unravel the tight grip he had on his life. His world was one of perfection, symmetry and solitude. Then, she appeared.

Y/N.

She was younger than him , she was delicate , fragile in both mind and body. Her vulnerability was something Jeon had never allowed himself to acknowledge yet he couldn't turn away from it. She was the embodiment of a warmth that radiated even in the darkest moments of her internal chaos.

She was everything Jeon wasn’t gentle, open, and unknowingly dependent.

With her, he was different. He wasn't gentle but he was careful. He wasn't warm but he was present. And somehow despite all his darkness, she loved him. Loved him even when she knew what he was capable of. Loved him even when he warned her not to.

She craved it. Craved him. Because when everything else inside her was spiraling, Jeon remained her only constant.

__

The rain outside hit the pavement in rhythmic taps, the dimly lit room barely illuminated by the glow of Jeon's cigarette. He leaned against the door, his eyes watching her as she curled in on herself on the edge of the bed.

She was spiraling again. It wasn't the first time and he doubted it would be the last. The darkness in her was something he had accepted the moment he let her into his life. That night, the shadows pressed heavier than usual. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the air too thick to breathe. She tried to breathe but the panic wrapped around her lungs, tight and unrelenting and she barely registered Jeon’s presence until his warmth was near.

Taking a slow drag, he stepped forward, his movements unhurried, calculated. Her breath hitched, her body curling tighter. He didn’t speak. He never did in moments like these. Words were useless when she was lost in the depths of her mind. Instead, he acted. The coldness in his gaze would have terrified anyone else but she knew better. That coldness was his control, his way of keeping himself from unraveling alongside her

Jeon exhaled, the smoke drifting lazily in the space between them before he crouched in front of her. A firm hand gripped her wrist pulling her up. Gently but unyielding, he pulled her into his arms, her head pressed against his steady chest. The slow, deliberate rhythm of his breathing was the only sound she could focus on, his presence was a quiet anchor in the storm raging inside her mind as he brushed her hair with his inked hands in a soothing motion.

Her past had carved scars into her soul, growing up in a home where her every mistake was met with cold disappointment. Where no one appreciated efforts . Her parents had never understood her and when her mind fractured under the weight of their expectations, they had turned their backs on her.

__

She had met him on a cold,stormy night when she had nowhere left to go. He had found her, lost and instead of turning away, he had taken her in. Not with kindness, not with sweet words, but with a firm yet comforting hand and an unyielding will. He had never pitied her. He had never treated her as fragile even when she felt like she would shatter. He had simply become a force in her life, immovable, undeniable.

And despite everything, despite the darkness that clung to her, he had stayed.

Even when she couldn’t understand why.

Now, as she trembled before him, he did the same.His hands pressed against her back. He didn’t shush her, didn’t tell her to calm down. He simply held her, letting her feel the unspoken reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

Minutes passed or maybe hours. But slowly, her breathing steadied and her heartbeat no longer a frantic drum in her ears.

Jeon didn’t let go.

She pressed her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around him inhaling the scent of him, smoke, leather and something distinctly him.

Jeon didn’t tell her it would be okay. He didn't offer meaningless reassurances or whispered lies about everything being okay. He knew better.

But as long as he was here, she could believe it just a little longer.

Her fingers gripping onto his shirt as if anchoring herself to him. "Don't ever leave me," she whispered, her voice raw and vulnerable.

He didn't answer with words but the way his arms tightened around her pulling her impossibly closer, was enough.

She looked up at him, heart aching with the love she couldn't always put into words. Instead, she rose on her toes and kissed him. It was slow, deep. He gripped her jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, making sure she felt every ounce of devotion he couldn't say aloud. It wasn’t hurried or desperate, it was a quiet one that neither of them had to say aloud.

His hands traveled down her sides anchoring her against him as he deepened the kiss, his lips demanding. The taste of smoke lingered between them, intoxicating and familiar and with that he pulled her beneath the covers, his body wrapping around hers, his lips pressing against her in a silent vow.

So, they lay there tangled in each other’s existence as the storm outside mirrored the turbulence within. And In his arms, the world was not fixed nor was it perfect but it was bearable.

[End] 🤍

[1343401]

masterlists ⋆｡𖦹 °🐋⋆｡˚♡

ot7 series -

echos of the sea

synopsis: dragged into the pages of a novel she can’t escape, noh jiah finds herself serving yiseo, the kingdom’s flawless heroine. but as the men who adore her best friend begin to look at jiah with hunger in their eyes, a dangerous game of passion and power ensues. each man more captivating than the last, and with a world full of secrets and temptations, jiah realizes she’s no longer a mere background character. she’s the one who might just break the hearts of all seven men, or have them bow to her will. the lines between loyalty, love, and lust blur as she dares to rewrite her fate.

pairing: bts x reader

started: 01.20.25

status: ongoing

word count: 84.3 k

warnings: depictions of violence, smut (eventually), death, family trauma, insecurities, mentions of blood

captive desires

synopsis: after the passing of her grandparents, myah inherits their mansion, the only home she’s ever known. but when she stumbles upon a hidden basement, she uncovers a chilling secret: her grandparents weren’t just caretakers, they were notorious hybrid hunters, and the seven hybrids they captured are still alive. horrified, myah vows to set them free, but the hybrids have a darker plan. in a twist of retribution, they demand she care for them in exchange for their freedom. now, trapped in a deadly game of desire, control, and obsession myah must decide how far she’s willing to go to survive and whether she can resist the pull of the very creatures her grandparents sought to control.

pairing: bts x reader

started: 02.06.25

status: ongoing

word count: 37.0 k

warnings: depictions of violence, smut (eventually), death, family trauma, mentions of blood, slight yandere-ish behavior, (animal) abuse, kidnapping

requiem of the broken

synopsis: park minji's entire existence had been confined to the cold, sterile walls of the breeding facility. a place where women were no more than vessels for the insatiable hunger of the vampiric elite. she had known nothing but fear, awaiting her fate: to be chosen for breeding, or sold as food to the bloodthirsty. but when she is selected by the coven of the damned, she is thrust into a dark, twisted world of power, lust, and unimaginable cruelty. now, minji is not just prey, she is the object of their relentless, carnal desires, a pawn in a deadly game of dominance. as the vampires take turns bending her to their will, minji must decide: will she submit to their hunger, or will she burn the world down in a desperate, blood-soaked rebellion of her own? in the coven's grip, there's no mercy, only the unrelenting thirst for power and pleasure that threatens to consume her whole.

pairing: bts x reader

started: 02.09.25

status: ongoing

word count: 3.1 k

warnings: depictions of violence, 18+, death, non con, mentions of blood, vampires, selling of people

one shots -

beneath burning skies

synopsis: in the quiet village of jangsu, seojin’s life changes the moment she finds a dragon and its rider, both broken and vulnerable. as she tends to their wounds, the air crackles with something dangerous, something forbidden. the dragon’s touch leaves her skin burning, while jungkook’s quiet presence pulls her into a world of desire she’s never known. trapped between the two, seojin finds herself falling deeper into a passion that threatens to consume her, each stolen touch a promise of something darker, hotter, and far more irresistible than she ever imagined.

pairing: dragon!namjoon x reader x dragonrider!jungkook

word count: n/a

warnings: depictions of violence, 18+, mentions of blood, shifters,

taglist: @canarystwin @sathom013 @gracefulsakura98 @ihatesnakeu7 @dachshunddame @moonxxlover @lovelyglares @multifandomfreakster-blog @dawnzephyr @seomta @mar-lo-pap @chroniclesofbts @minjianhyung @wannaghostbts @kpopdreamer95

join taglist!

[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK - Masterlist

Now Completed!!

🗲summary:

It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens?

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲overall word count: ~80k 🗲genre: angst, action, slow burn, enemies to lovers, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, weapons, swearing, arguing, injury, past trauma, mentions of death (these are general warnings; chapter-specific warnings are listed per chapter)

Teaser

Character Moodboards/Bios: Jungkook | Yoongi | Hobi | V | Jimin | Jin | Namjoon | You

Supercharged Playlist

Chapter 1 - The Light Dies He’s the hero. Unfortunately for you, you’re not the villain.

Chapter 2 - Reign of Mercy There’s a whole world here, where your curse can start to bloom…

Chapter 3 - Figure it Out You become Jungkook’s problem.

Chapter 4 - We aren't Heroes, Honey A chaotic arrival turns everything on its head, and the boys are ready to let you in on their real game.

Chapter 5 - Scared of a Little Lightning With the threat of Bolt rising, so do tensions within the base.

Chapter 6 - Burn Out When things get ahead of you, your powers aren’t the only things to spill over; some truth is ready to breach the surface.

Chapter 7 - Spark to Life “We don’t have time to argue” “No, we don't”

Chapter 8 - On the Force Jungkook smiles at you for the first time (and the second).

Chapter 9 - Thank me Later Our villains get their moment in the sun (well, the fire…)

Chapter 10 - Is This Not Control? You’re forced to come to terms with the danger – and the beauty – in the way your powers burn.

Chapter 11 - Right Beside You Jungkook has you to thank, if only he knew how.

Chapter 12 - Into the Depths If you aren’t cut out to be with them, then you’ll just have to go it alone.

Chapter 13 - One of Us Jungkook doesn’t seem to be angry for the reasons you expected.

Chapter 14 - Cover Me An unprecedented strike at the heart of bangtan leaves you baring yours.

Chapter 15 - Powerless It’s time to make the fight on your terms.

Epilogue - Sweet Taste How it all boiled down.

Updates every Sunday! To be on the taglist, send me a message, ask or comment!💜(now closed as series is completed! but comments are always still welcome)

[mayullla]

Title: The Wedding is Today

Character(s): Viscount (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: The wedding is today as you look at yourself in front of the mirror, wearing a white gown. Are you scared or are you broken? You weren't sure. Yet your time was limited till you become whole his.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Viscount x Fallen aristocrat!reader, F!reader, general yandere themes, manipulation (both physical and mental), power imbalance, forced marriage, loss of control, womb tattoo that is not sexual, forced servitude, 2k words

This is part two, click here for part one!

Dressed in the most beautiful white wedding dress, decorated with lace and pearls, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You had always dreamed of wearing a wedding dress; after all, it was something that you had always been told you would have. And you had always been fascinated by the idea of wearing a dress that was the image of purity and elegance. In the past, you thought you would have it with your ex-fiancé but instead of him you were to wed another man, someone so infatuated by you.

Even with carefully done hair and makeup, it could not hide your empty eyes.

Was this the result? It had been a long time since you last saw your face in the mirror. In that dark room, forced into the whims of that man, you didn't have much. There was no mirror there, just a bed, table, and desk, with most of your clothes and necessities brought by the silent servants.

Hollow eyes covered by a black cloth.

You felt weak, your body shivering as you pulled your eyes away from the mirror. Tears threatened to fall as you tried to hold them in, worried that you might ruin your makeup and irritate him, who only wanted perfection.

You didn't want this… you didn't want this at all.

You were marrying a monster.

Even if you wanted to escape, there was no way you could. He had made sure to snuff out all your ideas or thoughts of running away. That man had placed his hands all over you just to ensure that you could think of nothing but him, making sure you would never be able to run away even after you were finally let out from your prison. You still felt like a trapped bird.

Invisible chains locked your wrists, legs, neck, and hands, forcing you to dance to his orders. You could not stand up; it was as if something was holding your stomach down, a weight keeping you still on the chair as you waited for the time drawing near, challenging you to even think of trying. A white choker necklace tightened around your neck, making you conscious of every breath. Your back was straightened with a corset designed to keep your posture rigid, preventing you from even bending slightly.

He said that he had to make sure, after all, worried that you might hunch and cry while walking down the aisle, your face would be hidden with the white veil, but he just had to make sure of your shoulders and your back.

“Your tears are pretty. But if you don't give the crowd a happy cry then we shall keep most of that in private. Oh love, you are my precious and it is the same with your tears also. They should only be seen by me.”

Yet nothing could be as shameful as the womb sigil placed on your stomach the glowing ever so bright under the dark room when you were told to go to sleep late at night. A warmth it created that you didn't want. You would have preferred to freeze to death that feel this.

The viscount rambled about how much he adored you, his perfect doll, during the carriage ride, and how much you have improved in the past days that you stayed here. He commented on your suffering and how hard you were working just to please him. You flinched the moment he said that he could not wait to make it official that you were his. “In just a few hours my dear and all the world would know that you are mine forever.”

You didn't want to look at him. You didn't want to look at anyone.

“My lovely bride," his comments made you want to vomit as tears fell down to your skirt in the carriage. His hands touched your cheeks as he gently lifted your face. Your eyes met his, and not even a lick of pity or guilt was in them, nothing but obsession, lust, and thrill. "Aww… Let your tears out now, dear, so that later when they put on your makeup, you won't ruin it," he whispered as he moved his thumb to clean your tears from your cheeks. 

“I am the only one here with you right now. It is okay to cry.”

“My little dear is just so pretty. Sometimes I don't know if I could hold back later when you finally become fully mine." Lowering his head, you flinched again when he placed his chin near your neck, his hands wrapped around your waist. You could feel his cold skin against yours, hot from your emotions.

“I worry that I might just break you one day..."

None of the guests touched you when you arrived at the wedding hall only able to greet you with a bit of a distance; maids that worked under him had made sure of that. Small adjustments in the dress or helping you reach one place or another were all done by them. They worked efficiently, but you knew that their main job was to be watchdogs.

You could never stare into their eyes for too long, though. To someone who knew or who was sharp, it was obvious that the shine of life in them, meant to fool outsiders, still looked somehow fake.

You stared at the floor of the dressing room, zoned out. The music from the orchestra outside was loud yet muffled. You could hear people talking, enough to realize that the Viscount made sure that everybody attended just to see him put a lock on your finger.

In just a few minutes, you will belong to him, and you can do nothing to stop it.

It was difficult to breathe.

You didn't want to move at all when your feet started moving, tried to stop yourself when you felt a certain buzz in your core under your stomach again, warning you not to try anything.

You remember after all that time when you so desperately wanted to run away and were so close to doing so. Back then when the Viscount left the room without locking the door, you thought you could run away at that moment and that this was your chance. Even if your feet hurt from dancing the same steps for hours just moments ago, you forced yourself to move, so desperate to leave.

There was no one in the halls as you ran, careful not to cause any sound that would let servants or him notice your presence. And you were close… very close to the door to the outside.

Only to feel a shock in your core running through your whole body. It was like fire burning your skin inside out, licking your skin, leaving trails of fire that grew hotter and hotter. You fell down in the hallway, unable to move as waves of pain threatened to melt your body. You couldn't scream at all, barely a gasp.

The sigil on your stomach had reacted violently to your escape.

And the pain didn't stop, no matter how many tears fell from your eyes. No matter how much you wanted to escape from the pain, it kept you wide awake. The pain in your stomach was gruesome, while your veins felt like it was lit on fire. At one point, it did dull down, as if someone deemed that your punishment had been properly given… but you could not move, and he made sure of that. You covered your face and sobbed still feeling like every body part was burnt to a crisp.

Later, when the Viscount came back from a meeting and saw you on the floor he tutted at you… no anger in his eyes when he picked you up in a bridal carry. “My dear honey, you shouldn’t have done that. What if you had gotten hurt while running away?” He asked you with a smile, his grip on your leg painfully tight.

You received another punishment from the Viscount himself.

You watched him place a chain on your ankle, securing it to the bed. You flinched at his touch, whining when the cold metal touched your skin.

“I made sure to go lightly on you. But don't think it will be the same next time, dear,” he told you as he carried you to your bed, giving you pecks on your forehead while combing your hair as if to comfort you. “It will be even worse than this..”

Let me remind you that as long as you know that you belong to me, I will spoil you more than kings and emperors could ever do for their queens. But if you could not understand that, then we could only just fix it… and you already know what I mean by saying that.”

“Right, Love?”

“It will be your turn soon. Please get ready,” a servant spoke up. In public, they removed all their masks around their eyes. You had expected their eyes for a moment to be dead just as they were before, yet instead, you saw a liveliness that didn't belong to the person. “Please wait a moment, and we will finish up a few remaining touches,” the servant spoke in a cheerful voice, as other servants walked around with similar smiles.

You disliked how fake it was, but more than anything, you were scared that this would be what you would finally become if you even made the Viscount mad enough, pushing the thought that maybe you already were deep in your mind.

A long veil attached to your hair, the Viscount had a favor towards longer hair and told you to grow it if it was short. The dress was cleaned from any fold marks, wrinkles and small imperfections. 

A white bouquet held by another maid given to you.

Your hands took the white bouquet without listening to your fear and hesitation. Again, you wondered if you were broken, already a marionette that he sometimes called you.

Walking out of the bride's room, you stood in front of huge doors in the long hallway, your own eyes empty of any delight but hidden by the innocent white veil, sheer enough to see your face just a little. Your neck moved by itself when it heard the announcement of the bride, your chin being forced up as the doors opened. You could hear the clapping first, and as you started to walk down the aisle alone, you could see some nobles who once watched you be humiliated by your past fiancé and his girl. 

You didn't care about them anymore.

Your eyes moved to see in front of you, and you saw your parents, both smiling as you walked down the aisle, almost as if proud parents when in reality you knew it was a picture the Viscount wanted of something perfect.

Looking at the man again, watching you walk towards him with a satisfied smile on his lips, you could see the madness and obsession swirling in those eyes, knowing that you have been placed into a corner where all he must do is choke you even more.

Standing in front of him, you looked at him, the same sly smile on his lips as the day you first arrived at his mansion and fell into his trap. The marriage officiant continued to speak, yet most of his words you could barely hear as you were too deep in your thoughts. This moment, these last few seconds would be the last that belonged to you until it becomes official that you would be forever trapped and controlled by the man's obsession and delusions for you.

You heard the Viscount speak for a moment, bringing you out of your thoughts immediately. You had become too sensitive to his voice. You noticed the marriage officiant turn to you after hearing the answer of the Viscount and asking you the question, “Would you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?”

Looking at the Viscount who stared at you lovingly yet at the same time knowingly, waiting to hear you say the words that will bind you to him forever. This breath would be the last that you breathe for yourself and not for him. He was a serpent, he had already bitten into your skin, letting poison seep into your veins. Any hope now would be too late. 

You closed your eyes, letting tears fall down your face.

“Yes… I do.”

[enchantresss97]

Wicked Ties-Chapter One

Characters: Roman Godfrey(Slightly AU Roman is not in high school anymore, the action happens in present times) x Reader

Description: When Roman Godfrey comes seeking your help, you greet him with a blade to his throat. Witches and upirs have been enemies for centuries, and their own past is stained with betrayal. But with danger closing in and his hunger spiraling out of control, you are the only one who can save him. Bound by need, torn by desire that threatens to consume both of you, your wicked ties may destroy you both.

Warnings: dark themes, magic, witches, upirs/vampires, blood, death, SMUT, sex (most of the types).

Word count: 4158

A/N: This will be three chapters story, I really hope you will enjoy it. Happy reading! ❤️

Roman Godfrey was a lot of things but never a fool. He should have known better than to trust a witch.

But desperation had driven him to her. The hunger was getting worse, his control slipping. He was running out of ways to stop himself from tearing through flesh and draining every last drop of blood from the people around him.

Dr. Pryce had been his last hope. If anyone could have found a way to fix him, it should have been him. He had watched Pryce lie to him, experiment on him, twist his life into something unnatural. The man had promised control but had only made things worse unleashing his power. It was because of him that Roman had become this. A monster driven by hunger, barely able to hold himself together.

So, Roman had torn his throat out. Slowly. Deliberately. Let the man feel, just for a moment, what it was like to be powerless under something stronger.

Killing him didn’t change anything. It didn’t make the hunger disappear, didn’t make the need any less unbearable. It just meant he was out of options. Through out the year he tried to find many ways to escape this nightmare. Sure, he enjoyed the power who came with this, a little too much actually but not being able to control the hunger was the only reason couldn’t let it go the idea of a cure.

So, he turned to something older, something darker.

The witch had promised answers. She had let him believe she had the knowledge to fix whatever was inside him. Instead, she played him for a fool.

She was ancient, a powerful force feared even among the Sabat. Her knowledge and strength were unmatched, her reputation etched into the hearts of every witch who dared to cross her path.

But Roman hadn’t cared about any of that when he stood before her, rage burning in his veins.

She had made him believe she could help him. She had let him think that she could fix the monster he had become. The Sabat revered her, she had led them, taught them, and shaped them into what they were and the coven trusted her implicitly. She had seen centuries pass, seen the rise and fall of many so yeah, he had fallen for it, just as he had fallen for every other promise of salvation all these years. But when he finally understood that she had been playing him from the start he snapped.

In a fit of fury, Roman had killed her. There had been no warning, no calculated move. Just pure, raw rage. Her laugh still echoed in his mind, mocking, cruel, dismissive. She had thought herself untouchable. But Roman was done being a puppet, done letting anyone control him. So, he had torn her apart, ending her life in a moment of overwhelming fury.

And since a bad thing never comes alone, of course he knows that the witches would never forgive him for it. She had been too important, too powerful to be disposed of like that. Her death would send ripples through the coven. They would come for him. He needs to be one step ahead.

And that left him with only one choice:

Now, he stood at your door. The only person who could help him. The thing was, you weren’t exactly on good terms.

You hadn’t been since high school, before either of you knew what you truly were. Back then, Roman had been just a boy, and you, a girl with the world ahead of her. But everything changed the moment you both found out the truth. The truth that tore you apart.

What you had back then was innocent, sweet even and that’s rich coming from an spoiled brat like Roman. But then you found out about each other, the power dynamics shifted. You learned what you were, and so did he. And as it always went with your kind, the attraction was undeniable, but so were the consequences. Your relationship had ended badly. Too much power, too much darkness, too many things left unsaid.

Now, Roman stood on your doorstep, desperate for your help, he hesitated only for a moment before knocking on the heavy wooden door. The night air was thick around him, the scent of damp earth and smoke lingering. He knew you were there, he could feel it. A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing your silhouette against the dim glow of candlelight. You didn’t look surprised, just annoyed.

But neither of you spoke. You stood there, frozen in place, just staring at each other. Even though you knew he was coming, the sight of him still knocked the breath from your lungs. He looked…different…older, rougher. His eyes were darker, haunted, but his presence was still overwhelming, suffocating even. And despite how much you hated it, your heart ached at the sight of him.

Roman didn’t fare much better. He had prepared himself for this, convinced himself that seeing you again wouldn’t mean anything after all these years. But now that you were standing in front of him, the memories hit him like a punch to the gut. You looked the same. Still had that fire in your eyes, that confidence that made his blood rush and his heart race. Yet there was something colder about you, something guarded, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of him.

He swallowed, a smirk slowly creeping onto his lips to mask the sting of nostalgia. “Long time no see,” he said, his tone casual. Too casual for what lay between you.

You didn’t look at him, instead tracing your finger over one of the tarot cards on the table. “What the fuck are you doing here, Roman?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just watched you with that lazy, arrogant smile, trying to hide the way his pulse was still racing from just seeing you again. “Missed me?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder, your eyes sharp as glass. “Try again. Why are you here?”

He pushed off the doorframe and took a few steps closer, his gaze never leaving you. “I need your help.”

A humorless laugh escaped your lips. “My help” You turned fully now, eyes narrowing. “After what you did?”

Of course you already know what happened. Roman tilted his head, feigning innocence. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. I do a lot of things.”

That was it. You shot up from your chair, the knife already in your hand, and in a flash, you were in front of him, the blade pressed to his throat. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just looked down at you with that same cocky expression.

“Relax, baby,” he purred. “You’ll cut me before we even get to the good part.”

You didn’t bother responding, just pulled back and swung the knife again, aiming to slice his cheek. He ducked, catching your wrist mid-swing, and twisted your arm behind your back, pressing you against the wall.

“Getting feisty already?” he whispered against your ear. “You always did have a short fuse.”

You gritted your teeth and stomped down on his foot, making him loosen his grip just enough for you to break free and punched him in the jaw, the force making him stumble back a step.

Roman wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking when he saw the faint trace of blood on his skin.

You spun around and aimed a punch at his jaw again, which he dodged this time, but not without brushing his fingers over your waist. The touch sent a jolt through you, one you hated yourself for feeling.

“Can’t we just talk like adults?” he taunted. “Or are you gonna keep trying to take my head off?”

You threw another punch, and he caught your arm, smirking down at you. “You really think I wanted to kill her?” he asked, voice dropping to something almost serious.

You yanked your arm free, shoving him back. “You’re a fucking monster, Roman. You don’t care who you hurt.”

He clenched his jaw, something dark flashing in his eyes before he plastered on that smug smile again. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

You scoffed, muttering a quick spell under your breath. The room suddenly filled with an electric pulse, and Roman felt his legs buckle as the force knocked him down to one knee. You moved in to kick him, but he caught your ankle, pulling you off balance. You landed on top of him, and before you could move, he had you pinned beneath him, wrists trapped above your head.

He leaned down, lips brushing the side of your throat. “You’re so fucking stubborn,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I didn’t want to kill her. She wouldn’t fucking help me. She just kept pushing, saying I was a monster. Said there was no cure, that I should just accept what I am.”

You struggled against his grip, glaring up at him. “So you killed her?”

His expression darkened, but he didn’t move. “She lied to me. Promised to help, then called me a lost cause. I snapped. Didn’t even realize what I was doing until she was already bleeding out.”

Your breathing was ragged, your heart racing against his chest. You hated how his scent still messed with your head, how the warmth of his body made your skin tingle.

“You’re just trying to manipulate me,” you hissed, turning your head to avoid his gaze.

He let out a low, frustrated growl. “You really think that little of me?”

You met his eyes, and for a moment, there was something raw in them, something unguarded. But you couldn’t trust it. Couldn’t trust him. You pushed against his chest, trying to shove him off, but he didn’t budge.

“Get off me,” you snapped but he didn’t move.

You shot him a glare, then mumbled another spell, the air around you warping with heat. Roman flinched, forced to release you as the energy crackled around him. You scrambled to your feet, grabbing for the knife again, but he intercepted, catching your wrist and spinning you around, trapping your arm behind your back. Your body was pressed against his chest, his breath hot against your ear.

Both of you were breathing heavily, chests heaving with the aftermath of the fight. His grip was firm but not painful, and you could feel every hard line of his body against yours.

For a moment, you froze. Your mind drifted back to high school, back when you and Roman were inseparable. He was always handsome, undeniably so, with a lean frame that moved with effortless grace. He was good looking, but now? Now he was something else entirely.

The boy you once knew was gone, replaced by a man, a raw, intimidating presence. His body was bulkier, his muscles more defined, his chest pressing against yours in a way that made it impossible to ignore just how much he’d changed. There was a heaviness to him now, a strength that sent a jolt of awareness through you. He wasn’t the same person. And God, did you feel it.

Back then, Roman was still discovering who he was, barely scratching the surface of his power, unsure how to control it or even fully understand what he was. But now? Now he radiated power, a force that could crush anything in his path. There was no hesitation in his movements, no uncertainty. He knew exactly what he was, and how dangerous that knowledge made him. Stronger than ever. Definitely, far more dangerous than you ever imagined.

And then, there was his appearance. Impeccable, like something out of a high fashion magazine. After finding out that he’s the only heir of the Godfrey Industry, Roman started to carry himself with the poise of someone who had everything, a figurehead of the Godfrey empire. His clothes, tailored to perfection, fit him like a second skin. Sharp suits that spoke of wealth, power, and influence. It wasn’t just a look; it was a statement. A fashion icon in his own right. Oh and he definitely kept that throughout the years. The way he moved, the way he held himself, his every detail screamed control and authority. And even in this chaotic moment, you couldn’t help but notice it.

“Please,” he whispered, pulling you to reality. This time his voice wasn’t cocky or mocking, just desperate. “I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t control it. They’re going to come for me.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, his voice sending a shiver down your spine despite everything. You wanted to push him away, wanted to scream and curse him, but something in his tone made you hesitate.

His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and his hands loosened their hold, just enough to give you space if you wanted to pull away. But you stayed still, caught between your anger and the way his body molded against yours.

“Please,” he repeated, softer this time.

Your breath hitched, and for the first time since he walked through the door, your firm stance is starting to weaken.

You both stood facing each other, the air still thick with unspoken emotions. The fight had died down, but the tension between you two had only grown. You shook your head, clearly frustrated, but with an edge of determination. Your arms crossed, facing the reality of the mess Roman had made.

“You really have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” you said, your tone sharp, but beneath it, you couldn’t help the edge of disbelief. Roman’s careless actions had just thrown him into a storm, and you were the one left trying to figure out how to stop it.

“Hiding isn’t going to work” you said without waiting for his response, moving back to your chair, the subtle grace of your movements betraying the storm inside you. You sank down, the heels of your boots clicking softly against the floor as you reclaimed your space. The Tarot cards that had been spread out in front of you now felt like the only thing grounding you.

Roman raised an eyebrow, the cocky smirk still on his face, but it faltered when he saw the serious look in your eyes. “You don’t want me to hide? I thought you’d be all for that,” he taunted, though there was a flicker of concern beneath the bravado.

But one thing that apparently never changed? His dirty mouth. And his arrogance. Even now, with all the changes, Roman was still the same bastard he’d always been. He still knew how to push your buttons with every word that left his lips, his cocky attitude never fading.

“Shut up, Roman,” you said, your voice firm, staring at him, almost incredulously. “The coven won’t just let this go. You know that, right? They will come for you.”

Roman leaned against the table, his posture casual, but the desperation in his eyes was clear. “I don’t know what I expect to do, but I need you to help me. You’re the only one who can.”

You took a deep breath, your fingers brushing against the edges of the cards. Slowly, deliberately, you began gathering them together, the soft shuffle of the cards a steady rhythm as you stacked them. They had always been a way to focus, to clear the noise from your mind.

You reached for the cigarette case on the table, effortlessly picking up the long cigarette holder. You slid the cigarette into its end and brought it to your lips, the holder dangling elegantly between your fingers. The smoke curled lazily from your lips as you took a slow drag, eyes never leaving Roman.

Roman raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he remarked, his gaze still on you.

“Well, I learned from the best,” you replied, a hint of playfulness in your voice while you shuffled the cards once more in your hands.

You could feel the old familiarity settle in the room, and your mind briefly drifted back to a different time. Roman teaching you how to smoke for the first time. It was supposed to be innocent, just a few puffs shared between you two but every time you tried, you both ended up closer than expected. His hands, guiding yours. The way his lips brushed against yours as he demonstrated how to inhale. And somehow, every lesson ended the same way: both naked moaning each other’s name.

Roman’s eyes had darkened slightly, and you could tell he was thinking about the same thing. And for a moment the sound of the cards sliding against each other was the only noise in the room. You drag once more from the cigarette and then spread the cards back to the table with slow precision.

“I’ll talk to the coven,” you said finally, your voice cold, calculated. “I’ll explain it, make them understand. But you need to keep your mouth shut and let me handle this. The witch you killed, she was kind of the leader, I’m sure you already know this by now. After her, there were others in the hierarchy. I will speak and I’ll deal with them. You don’t get to say a word.”

Roman took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Smart? You mean playing nice with them? I’m not sure that’s my style.”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said, your voice low but firm. “Now pick a card” you continue without looking up from the cards you’d laid out before him.

Roman raised an eyebrow but didn’t hesitate. He moved toward the table, his fingers brushing the cards as he chose one with deliberate slowness, flipping it and then gave it to you. You watched him closely, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you analysis the card.

Your eyes met again and you saw Roman ran a hand through his hair, his mouth twisting into a rueful grin. Another gesture who reminds you of the old Roman, he always used to do this, apparently he still does.

“I know I fucked up,” he said, the cocky edge to his voice still present, even as he tried to show some kind of regret. “But I didn’t have much of a choice.”

You gestured to the cards. “Pick another one.” You said ignoring his statement.

Roman hesitated for only a moment before he reached out and drew another card, his hand still steady, but you could see the tension in his movements now.

“So, what does it say?” He asked studying the new card, trying to read something in the design, the symbols but he knows shit about tarot reading. You didn’t let him see your reaction, but you were scanning him, watching him carefully. The way he looked at the cards, the way he hesitated, everything he did had meaning to you.

Neither of you spoke, but the air was thick with the weight of the unspoken, everything that needed to be said, but wasn’t.

“Not everything is meant to be said aloud.” You finally broke the silence.

Roman stared at you, his frustration clear, but he knew better than to push you. Not yet, at least. He was here because he needed you, and clearly you weren’t about to make this easy on him.

“I’ll talk to the coven,” you said again after few seconds, “But you really need to let me handle this, Roman, no more tricks and no more loosing control. And no promise this will work.”

Roman shifted, standing a little straighter. He didn’t like it, but he knew it was the only option. His usual cocky, self-assured attitude flickered, but only for a moment.

He stepped closer, his gaze drifting over you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re so confident,” he said, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “You always were.”

You didn’t step back, holding your ground. “I’ve had to be. But I’m not the one who killed a high-ranking witch, am I?”

Roman chuckled softly, the sound rich with arrogance. “No, you’re not. But you always did like being the one in control, didn’t you?”

“Not this time, Roman,” you replied, your eyes narrowing. “But still, this time you have no choice but listening to me.”

After a long pause, Roman said, his voice quieter than before. “You know, I didn’t think it would come to this. I didn’t think I’d ever be asking for your help.”

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you watched him carefully, letting the moment stretch. His voice wasn’t just the usual cocky edge; there was a vulnerability to it now, one that didn’t sit well with him.

“You don’t have much of a choice,” you said after a beat, your tone cold but not unkind.

You knew. Him, standing here in front of you was the last place he wanted to be. And the same went for you. Fate had a cruel sense of humor, mocking both of you by dragging him to your door.

There he was, in your space, with that same cocky smirk and unspoken desperation behind his big green eyes.

You looked at him with a sly smile, one eyebrow raised as you pointed to the cards in front of him. “Wanna pick another card?” you teased, your voice laced with a hint of mischief.

He let out a low, frustrated groan, rolling his eyes. “Enough with the card game,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth curved up despite himself. He leaned forward, his hands pressing down on the table as he bent over it, his face just a breath away from yours. The tension crackled between you like a live wire, his scent, the expensive cologne and something unmistakably him filling your senses.

“So this is the plan, right?” he murmured, his voice low and rough, daring you to challenge him. “You’re really gonna help me?”

Your eyes traced the shape of his lips, and suddenly, memories came rushing back. His mouth against yours, hot and greedy, claiming every inch of your skin. Those full lips had kissed you breathless, whispered filthy promises in the dark, tasted every part of you. You hated that you remembered so vividly.

“Yes,” you replied, forcing your focus back to his eyes. “But what do I get in return?”

Roman let out a soft laugh, one that was both amused and tinged with something darker. “You know, you haven’t changed. Still the same stubborn, sexy witch you always were.”

You met his gaze, your pulse quickening despite yourself. The attraction was undeniable, and it pulled at you, but you couldn’t afford to let it get in the way now.

“And you’re still the same cocky bastard,” you replied, your voice sharp but with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, leaning back, settling into the chair with an air of nonchalance.

His gaze flicked down to your mouth before meeting your eyes again, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Anything you want,” he drawled, the words coated in sin and seduction. He didn’t move back, he stayed right there, so fucking close.

You picked up the cigarette holder again, taking a slow, deliberate drag before letting the smoke curl from your lips. Your eyes never left his as you gave him a faint, almost mocking smile.

“Then we have a deal,” you said smoothly, the hint of a challenge glinting in your eyes.

His lips curved into a smirk, clearly pleased and maybe just a little irritated because he was losing control and loosing control was the one thing Roman Godfrey hated more than anything. And right now, that’s exactly what he’d done.

Given in, let himself be pulled into your plan, and surrendered to the one person he never thought he’d have to depend on. The tension between you was almost palpable, his jaw clenched as he tried to mask the frustration simmering behind those sharp green eyes.

Roman’s gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second, and you saw something flicker in his expression, something primal and raw. He looked at you like he wanted to bite, to taste, to remind you that you weren’t the only one pulling strings here.

But he didn’t say a word. Just gave a single, sharp nod, his eyes never leaving yours. He hated that he needed you. Hated that he couldn’t just walk out and figure this out on his own. Hated how much power you suddenly had over him.

Your lips twitched, amusement glinting in your eyes as you watched him fight for control. You wondered if fate had been waiting all this time just to pull you back together and make you face everything you’d tried to forget.

[shizuturnspages]

sorry for sending in so many asks but like. i was curious abt something and wanted to know your opinion since i love how you write for these characters as yanderes. how different do you think wanderer would be different as a yandere across the different stages of his life? y'know kunikuzushi, scaramouche n then wanderer.

No worries. I love writing headcannons. This is actually a really brilliant idea, since he faces immense character development in each stage, which changes his yandere traits. Here it is:

Kunikuzushi

Kunikuzushi starts out as the discarded prototype of the Shogun, hurt and desperately trying to find meaning in a world that he’s only barely begun to understand. He’s all raw emotion, innocence, and heartbreak with a severe abandonment complex that screams vulnerability. He doesn’t fully grasp the intricacies of human relationships yet, but he knows he wants someone—anyone—who won’t leave him. And once he latches on to you, there’s no escaping his fierce, almost childlike need to keep you with him.

Yandere Traits:

❥ Kunikuzushi’s affection is intense and pure, but smothering. He doesn’t just want you close; he wants you to be his entire world, wrapping you up in a cocoon of affection that borders on suffocating. You’ll find yourself unable to take a step without him watching, constantly afraid that you’ll leave him, like everyone else has. He doesn’t mean to trap you; he just doesn’t know any other way to keep you safe.

❥ If someone else shows interest in you, Kunikuzushi feels threatened, but it’s not malicious—he just doesn’t know how to cope. His innocent jealousy leads to outbursts and childish, sulky expressions, but he means every word. “They don’t care about you like I do,” he’ll say, desperate to keep your attention. He sees anyone else as a risk, someone who might tear you away, and he’ll do anything to hold on.

❥ He’s tender one moment, distant the next, terrified that you’ll betray him but unwilling to let go. His mood shifts are sudden and emotional, going from sweet, pleading whispers to cries that you promised not to leave. It’s a constant push and pull that’ll keep you tangled in his web.

Scaramouche

Saramouche has been through hell by this stage—twice abandoned, once as Kunikuzushi and once as the Gnosis-bearing puppet. He’s hardened, cold, and driven by an insatiable need for vengeance and power. This version of him is ruthless, with a twisted sense of loyalty and a desperate need to control everything in his life. If Kunikuzushi wanted to keep you close out of fear, Scaramouche keeps you close because he refuses to lose. You’re his anchor, his prize, and his weapon all in one.

Yandere Traits:

❥ Scaramouche won’t just protect you; he’ll dominate every aspect of your life. He’s the type to make sure you have no way out, pulling strings and manipulating events so that you have no one else to rely on but him. Your freedom? That’s a privilege you lost the moment he decided you were his.

❥ Scaramouche’s jealousy is no longer innocent—it’s pure wrath. If anyone even looks at you, he’s already plotting their downfall. He’ll sneer, undermine, and even eliminate people who dare to get too close, all while reminding you that he’s the only one who’s ever truly been there for you. His rage is icy, calculated, and deadly as hell. He’ll make sure you know that he’s willing to do anything to keep you by his side.

❥ Scaramouche knows your weak points, and he’ll exploit them mercilessly. “After everything I’ve done for you, you’d betray me?” he’ll say with a dark smirk, every word designed to pull you back to him. He wants you feeling indebted, trapped in a cycle of loyalty, and unable to imagine life without him. You belong to him, and he’ll make sure you never forget it.

Wanderer

By the time he’s the Wanderer, Scaramouche has had enough time to reflect and heal—at least a little. He’s trying to rebuild himself, attempting to come to terms with his past while forging a new path. But he’s still a yandere at heart, just one with a more refined approach. His obsession with you is quieter, more subdued, but it hasn’t disappeared. Now, his love comes with subtle, unbreakable chains. He’ll make you feel safe and cherished, all while holding on to you with a grip that’s softer but just as impossible to escape.

Yandere Traits:

❥ Wanderer’s obsession with you is gentler than Scaramouche’s, but it’s still firm. He won’t go for violent confrontations; instead, he’ll weave his presence into your life so intricately that you don’t even realize how entangled you’ve become. He’s patient, kind, but he’s always there, making sure you never even think of leaving.

❥Wanderer knows he can’t control everything, but he will protect you. He’s more accepting of your independence now, but he’s always just a few steps behind, watching. He’ll let you wander, but there’s an unspoken rule—you’ll always come back to him. If you don’t, he’ll find you. Not with malice, but with that silent, unyielding devotion that reminds you he’ll never let you be alone.

❥ After everything he’s been through, Wanderer clings to you as his last connection to humanity. He’s come to understand what love is, and he won’t risk losing it again. He’s your shadow, a constant, reassuring presence who will stay with you, no matter the cost. And deep down, he knows that he’d still tear the world apart to keep you safe, even if he tells himself he’s moved on from his darker days.

❥ Wanderer’s yandere devotion is most evident in small moments. He’ll quietly show up whenever you’re in danger, giving a small, knowing smile as he pulls you into safety. He won’t say it, but there’s a glint in his eye that tells you—he’ll never let go.

[writers-potion]

Hi! How do I write a mafia novel?

How To Write A Mafia Novel

The term “mafia novel” makes me think of a few possibilities here. It could be (1) an action-thriller where our hero is either fighting the mafia or is a part of the mafia or (2) a mafia romance novel, where the love interest(s) come from rich mafia backgrounds.

If you’re writing an action/adventure story where mafia are the bad guys:

They need to have a cause – a twisted one. No matter how bloodthirsty these mafias might be, no one works so hard for fun. 

They’re struggling financially. This is a great motive for the bad guys to attack the hero, or use more cruel methods than usual. 

The ones who are going against the mafia would be independent investigative agencies or the Federal Bureau of Investigation, not your typical cop or police. 

They’re allied with other crime groups, even with some backdoor government organizations. I don’t think the depiction of mafia groups as a self-sufficing group always exchanging insults with other groups in inaccurate. Also, this raises the story stakes when your back guys combine with other bad guys to get back at the hero.  

They can’t be threatened with just an incriminating recording or photo, especially if they’re obtained illegally – which means they’re unlikely to have power as evidence.

Mafia leaders realistically won’t force their children to take over – in fact, they’ll want to keep their family out of it altogether. 

If you’re writing an action/adventure story where mafia are the good guys:

Give them a motto that gives them a cause for the higher good. Like ‘manners maketh men’ in the Kingsmen movies. In a loose sense, the Kingsmen are mafia too – they’re a secret society with lots of money, etc. 

A running theme would be that you can afford to use questionable methods as long as the outcomes are good. The mafia would kill, steal, imprison and murder – but they always have a convincing reason. Plus, the bad guys are doing a lot worse. 

The mafia organization is flawed in a critical way. This can be anything – a newbie who starts to question the mafia’s practices, or a corrupt leader, etc. This flaw will cripple this apparently sturdy organization at the end of Act II, raising the stake sky high. 

Give them secret codes, special weapons, a quirky dress code, a tattoo? 

Show how the mafia are tightly networked among themselves, often in a good way. The senior mafia mentoring the newbies, colleagues struggling through their probation periods together, etc. The mafia are a tight-knit organization. 

For a mafia romance, what the mafia really does or how they’re structured, etc. isn’t that important. As long as you get the black suits, expensive Jaguars, and exclusive clubs/hotels vibe right, you have enough mafia worldbuilding. What’s important are the characters. 

If you’re writing a male mafia love interest:

They’re high-ranking, filthy rich, intelligent, and cold-minded individuals who are powerful beyond your usual realm of rationality. The absolute unrealness of these sexy competent men is what’s appealing. 

The mafia background becomes the “hurtful dark backstory”. One of the main selling points of dark mafia love interests is that on the inside, they’re fractured puppies in need of some sunshine to soften up. Give them a good reason why they’re assholes to your female love interest in the beginning. They’re repressed – high time.

They must be able to draw a line between being adorably overprotective and unreasonably controlling. The same goes for their use of violence. Sure, a male mafia love interest may kill that stalker who’s been bugging our heroine but don’t have him putting bullets in the heads of people who just mildly irritate him – that’s a huge turnoff. 

If you’re writing a female mafia love interest:

Your heroine is a clear-minded, physically fit, confident, and competitive mafia queen/princess with both eyes fixed on power and success – until the male love interest comes along, either as an enemy mafia or a clueless softball. 

Alternatively, they’re oppressed by their father/brother(s) who are hard-core, bloodless men. These heroines are capable in ways that are not approved by their mafia family (like a career in social services or running a bakery, whatever) and need someone to understand and remove them from their toxic family – our male love interest. 

Again, feel free to use the mafia background as a source for some juicy, traumatizing backstory.

Hope this helps :) 

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[genshinluvr]

Where I Truly Belong

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Villain!Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: Your arrival at Teyvat was sudden and you thought you'd be welcome with open arms and new friendship. However, you were terribly wrong. You were ignored, threatened, and chased out of the regions in Teyvat. One day, on the heart island outside of Liyue, a portal opens and an opportunity is given to you. An opportunity where you have power and control over fate. Perhaps this is where you truly belong.

Note: This fic mainly focuses on the reader, so not a lot of Genshin men will be speaking in this overall fic unless it's something huge. I don't know how I feel about this story. I have come to the conclusion that I suck ass at writing the main character as a villain. I thought this fic was going to be longer, but I think it's best to cut it short because I'm not sure where it's going, and leaving it as where it ended is good. This is my first attempt at writing a villain!reader, and I think it's decent-ish for my first time. Again, you guys might think it sucks ass and honestly, understandable if you do think it sucks. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Reader gets impaled, mentions of blood, failed depictions of villainous reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Part 2 of Where I Truly Belong is [HERE].

The day you arrived at Teyvat, you were alone. The familiar faces of the characters you loved were nowhere to be found. You assumed they were going to try to find you and perhaps help you adjust to their world, but you were wrong. No one searched for you; therefore, you searched for them instead. When you found the beloved characters you love before being thrown into Teyvat, they ignored you. Even if they recognized you or had this sense of familiarity when seeing your face among the crowd, they continued on with their day as if you were never there. 

You run toward Aether, grabbing him by the wrist. “Aether! I finally found you! I—”

Aether yanks his wrist from your grasp, gazing at you like you had just grown two heads. Your heart drops to your chest, watching the blond man take a step back while the floating girl beside him gazes at you warily. Aether doesn’t say anything, and neither does Paimon.

“Do you know this person, Traveler?” Paimon asks, floating closer to Aether. 

Aether shakes his head. “I don’t know them, Paimon. I’m sorry, but you have the wrong person,” Aether states firmly, almost glaring at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat after hearing Aether’s response. Before you can say anything, a voice from a distance calls out to Aether and Paimon. You, Aether, and Paimon turn to see Lumine running toward the three of you with a big smile while Dainsleif follows behind.

Lumine stops in her tracks. “There you two are! I can’t believe you two ran off like that! I don’t understand how you and Dainsleif were traveling companions,” Lumine huffs, propping her hands on her hips.

“I was more of his babysitter, making sure he doesn’t get into trouble,” Dainsleif snorts, rolling his eyes when Aether grumbles incoherent words while Lumine and Paimon snicker.

You clear your throat. Lumine and Dainsleif look at you for a brief moment before Lumine loops her arms around Aether’s left arm, pulling him elsewhere with Paimon and Dainsleif following behind, leaving you standing in the middle of the field alone. Dark stormy clouds roll in, and you’re immediately soaked to the bone, watching the four figures get smaller and smaller. The four figures soon became blurry— you’re not sure if it’s because of the pouring rain or if it’s because of your tears. At this point, it’s hard for you to tell the difference between the two. 

You decided to stop by Mondstadt after meeting Aether, Lumine, Dainsleif, and Paimon. Once you reached the City of Freedom, you took shelter and made sure you weren’t entering the city looking like a soaked rat. After the sky clears up and you’re not soaked to the bone, you enter t the vast city. You thought the people of Mondstadt would be nicer when they see you, but you’re wrong. Huffman and Sara from Good Hunter are friendly people. However, people who have visions are the opposite. You tried talking to Albedo, Venti, Diluc, and Kaeya. Still, they all ignored you or acted like you were a crazy person.

“I believe you have one too many dandelion wines,” Kaeya chuckles, leaning against the counter at Angel's Share, nursing wine in his hands. 

Venti is sprawled over the counter at Angel's Share. You can practically see birds flying around his head. The poor Bard is not only drunk, but he’s also mumbling incoherently. Diluc sighs, cleaning the cup before tending to his duties around the tavern.

Diluc mumbles, “They’re not a customer, Kaeya.”

Venti scoots over to the Chief Alchemist, whispering loudly to the man, “Is it just me, or does this strange person look like they were fished out of Cider Lake?”

Albedo looks at you for a brief moment before gazing back at his sketch pad, not saying a word to the Bard. Even though none of them have outwardly shown you they don’t want you in Angel’s Share, you know from the way they look away from you and act around you they don’t want you in the same building as them. So, you gather up your things and leave the tavern. You’re used to being alone in your world, and seeing the people you adore treat you like you didn’t exist hurts. 

“Maybe the next region won’t be so bad,” you tell yourself.

Liyue is interesting. When you step into the beautiful region ruled by the Geo Archon, you are met with a polearm pointing at your throat. Xiao stands before you, glaring daggers at you with such distaste that it nearly made you want to skip Liyue altogether. 

“Outsiders are not welcomed to Liyue,” Xiao spats.

You know the Yaksha before you is doing his job to protect the region once ruled by the Geo Archon, but the way he gazes at you with such… hatred… made you second guess your presence in Liyue. 

You clear your throat. “I thought adventurers are welcomed to Liyue, Xiao,” you whisper, hands shaking at your side.

Xiao glares at you, not saying a word. Oh. When Xiao said that outsiders aren’t welcome in Liyue, he meant you. You’re not welcome to Liyue, not because you’re not an adventurer or a tourist from another region visiting the City of Contracts. It’s because you’re not from Teyvat. But even if you’re not from Teyvat, Aether, Dainsleif, Paimon, and Lumine aren’t even from Teyvat either. However, they’re still welcomed with open arms. 

“I won’t cause any harm, I promise. Is it a crime to walk into a region? I don’t have any weapons on me, nor do I pose a threat,” you say.

You dig into your pockets and hold your hands up to show Xiao you have no weapon on you. Xiao reluctantly points the polearm in the opposite direction of you and stares at you. You sigh in relief and walk past the Conquerer of Demons. In Mondstadt, no one pointed their weapons at you. In Liyue, though? You can’t really get upset with Xiao over it, really. All he’s doing is his duty to protect Liyue from danger.

When you step into Liyue Harbor, you stop in your tracks and look at the beautiful city. The City of Contracts is full of life, and the chatter of the citizens fills the once-silent air. After the encounter with the four outlanders, the men of Mondstadt and Xiao, you can't help but hesitate to continue further into the city. You know the Yaksha is watching your every move like a hawk. You don't necessarily blame him, but the encounter with Xiao made you hesitate.

Should you continue further into the City of Contracts? Or will the not-so-deceased Geo Archon make you face the wrath of the rock for stepping into his beloved city? Your hands shake at your sides, making you swallow the lump in your throat. You take a deep breath and continue into the city, making sure not to bump into a green-haired doctor and the former Geo Archon. You don't have anything against them, but they might have something against you, like how Xiao does when you step foot into the region. You stand in the middle of the city, staring at nothing. Why did you continue to venture into the City of Contracts?

You searched for the familiar faces from a beloved game you loved so much back in your world, only for them not to like you. It was a rude awakening, and you're unsure of why they treat you this way when you have never met them— nor did you plan on meeting the characters you have always loved. Someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble forward and snap out of your thoughts.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” you say, turning to look at the person that bumped into you before freezing up.

“Why am I the one apologizing when I wasn’t the one that bumped into him?”

The ginger-haired Harbinger glares at you. “Next time, don't stand there and take up space,” Childe hisses, shoving past you and purposefully bumping your shoulders.

You rub your shoulders, watching the ginger Harbinger approach a certain Geo Archon, his demeanor changing almost instantly as he greets the Archon happily. 

You press your lips into a thin line before turning around and walking away. As you walk away, Zhongli looks at Childe quizzically. Childe dusts his clothes and props his hands on his hips, sighing and acting like nothing had happened. Once you're out of view, Zhongli turns to Childe.

“Childe? Is that who I think it is?” Zhongli murmurs, stroking his chin.

Childe scoffs, continuing not to know who you are even though he's very well aware. Childe nudges the Geo Archon to follow him to the restaurant where he, Zhongli, and Doctor Baizhu will be having dinner. Baizhu shakes his head, walking beside the Geo Archon.

“Just to let you know, you're a little bit harsh on them despite you being the one that bumped into them,” Baizhu mutters, shaking his head with disapproval.

Childe rolls his eyes and changes the subject as the two men arrive at the Liuli Pavilion. Meanwhile, you sit outside of the city of Liyue, hugging your knees to your chest. You made a massive mistake of seeking out these people that you adored in your world. You should've started a different life in Teyvat, living among the citizens of Teyvat and living in solitude. But of course, you being you, you decided to seek these people out, only to be disappointed in the end. 

You still have Inazuma and Sumeru to explore and visit. However, you want to avoid stepping foot in the two other regions after what happened with the outlanders, the men of Mondstadt, Xiao, and Childe. You have yet to meet Zhongli and Baizhu, so you can't make a judgment on how they would treat you upon meeting for the first time. But if Xiao reacted in such a way when you entered Liyue, who knows how Zhongli and Baizhu would react?

You nearly forgot how fast time passes in Teyvat. One minute it was the afternoon, and when you blink, the sun is already setting. Technically, time doesn't change in a blink of an eye, but it does feel like it in Teyvat. You close your eyes and rest your head on your knees. Would visiting Inazuma and Sumeru hurt? You're not going to try to meet the beloved characters you know and love. You want to see the architecture and city up close. 

And that is what you did. You went to the two regions, made sure to avoid bumping into any familiar faces, and somewhat succeeded. However, it lasted only a short time when Itto and Scaramouche brought awareness to your presence in Sumeru and Inazuma. So, you left the two regions in a hurry, and now you're on this little heart island far out of Liyue, sitting at the edge of the island.

You bury your feet into the sand, watching the waters crash to shore and wet the sand above your feet. You wiggle your toes and shield your eyes from the sun. A large portal suddenly opens beside you, making you jump and stumble back. A tall Abyss Lector emerges from the portal, arms open and hovering toward you.

“Stay back!” You scream, grabbing the nearest object to use as a weapon.

The Abyss Lector cackles and stops before you, leaving a reasonable distance between you two. The Abyss Lector continues to stare at you in silence as if waiting for you to calm down. You take a step back. The Abyss Lector crosses their arms over their chest, chest rumbling with laughter. 

“What do you want from me?” You whisper.

“Watching you try and fail over and over is pathetic,” says the Abyss Lector.

You stare at the being before you blankly. Oh, so the Abyss Lector has been watching you try to befriend the beloved heroes of each region with mirth. Yeah, you would be doing the same thing if you weren't, well, you. You cross your arms over your chest and sigh as a sense of dread falls over you. You're alone in this heart island with the Abyss Lector, probably their next target aside from Teyvat and the Archons.

“If you're going to insult me, can you do it after you kill me? It'll save me from the embarrassment,” you mutter.

The Abyss Lector howls with laughter, head thrown back, shoulders bouncing. “Kill you? I have a proposition for you, and you are to decide whether you want to do it or not,” says the Abyss Lector.

You can't help but be wary of the Abyss Lector. While the Abyss Lector has yet to harm you, the Abyss has caused catastrophic harm in the past. You decide to listen to the Abyss Lector's proposition. The Abyssal creature went on a ten-minute tangent about the offer and would answer many of your pressing questions. To your surprise, the Abyss Lector was patient with your questions and had no issues with you not understanding certain parts of the proposition. You're grateful the Abyss Lector didn't attack you upon first meeting you— technically, the Abyss Lector created a portal near you on the heart island outside of Liyue.

“So? Do we have a deal or no deal?” asks the Abyss Lector, holding their hands out.

You press your lips into a thin line. Is this really what you want to do? You can’t turn your back on the people you adore. However, with how they treated you…. Does it really matter at this point? 

You furrow your eyebrows, nodding. “I accept your offer,” you say, placing your hand in the Abyss Lector's hand.

The Abyss Lector claps their hands. “Wonderful! Please, step into the portal, and we shall start our journey together,” says the Abyss Lector.

The Abyss Lector lets out a cackle and opens the portal. You and the Abyss Lector step into the portal, sealing your fate. Time flies in the Abyss— three days on Teyvat is three months in the Abyss. You didn't mind the drastic change of time and how fast time flies by in the Abyss. It took some time, but you were able to get used to it. Because you're not from Teyvat or from their universe, you mapped out the areas on Teyvat for the Abyss Order to target. You didn't have to do the attacking and invading like the Abyss Herald, Abyss Lectors, and other Abyssal creatures. All you have to do is sit on the throne and tell them what to do.

You sit on the throne in the Abyss, leaning on your right arm and watching the Abyssal creatures roam around. As the ruler of the Abyss Order, there wasn't much for you to do. Sometimes you would embark on your journey to Teyvat with the Abyss Lector, witnessing the damage being done to Teyvat. Usually, you would feel anger and sadness when the Abyss Order is harming the citizens of Teyvat and wanting to inflict harm on the Archons, but now? You could care less about what is being done to the people of Teyvat and their Archons.

“Your Highness, it's time,” says the Abyss Lector, kneeling at the foot of the throne.

This isn't the first time you'll be visiting Teyvat while the Abyss Order is running amock on Teyvat. But for some reason, you can't help but feel anxious about visiting Teyvat. The Abyss Lector, named Agnarr, holds their hand out for you to take. You take a deep breath and grab Agnarr's hand. Egill levitates forward, nodding. The two Abyss Lectors lead you out of the throne room of the Abyss, opening the portal to Teyvat.

Sumeru is on fire— literally. You and the two Abyss Lectors stand afar, watching the citizens of Sumeru scream and scramble out of the city while it's engulfed in flames. You see familiar faces running to the farthest part of Sumeru, but you pay no attention. Other Abyss Lectors and Heralds open various portals around Sumeru City, floating toward the Great Tree. Abyss Mages emerge out of thin air, cackling and attacking those they see.

“What do you think, Your Highness?” asks Enjou, appearing out of thin air, startling you.

You press your hand against your racing heart and take a deep breath. You turn to Enjou, glaring at the Pyro Abyss Lector, who cackles after seeing your reaction. You huff and glare at Enjou, who is now levitating before you with his arms over his chest. Enjou has the tendency to scare the crap out of you at every chance he gets. On the other hand, Agnarr and Egill aren't fond of the idea of Enjou popping on and out of places to get a reaction out of you.

You take a deep breath. “Enjou, can you please stop doing that?” You ask.

Enjou hums. “Hmmm, I don't think I can do that, Your Highness. It's my job to make sure you're stealthy and always alert! Who knows, someone could attack you while we're not at your side,” Enjou says nonchalantly. 

“They needn't worry about their safety when they're with us,” Agnarr hisses at Enjou.

Egill scoffs, crossing their arms over their chest. “As if we'd let them be in harm's way. Those who try to take the Abyss Order's Ruler shall fall and watch the world around them burn,” Egill hisses.

Enjou raises his hands, shaking his head. You sigh, turning back to the scene of the burning city of Sumeru. The screams and cries fill the chilly night, sending chills down your spine. It has taken you months to get used to hearing the anguished screams of the citizens of Teyvat, but the more you listen to it, the more you have gotten used to it. While you did not want to hurt the citizens of Teyvat and only specific people who have hurt you and turned you away, the Abyss Order spares no one. Not even children and animals.

“Burning down buildings and villages won't do much for the Abyss Order,” you murmur, stroking your chin. “We'll discuss this when we return to the Abyss.”

Agnarr, Enjou, and Egill nod their heads. You yawn as Egill opens a portal to the Abyss. The three Abyss Lectors all levitate toward the portal with you by their side. Before you can step into the portal, an arrow flies by your face, forcing you to come to a stop. Agnarr and Egill step in front of you to shield you from harm, glaring at the perpetrator. You peek from their arms to see what's going on, only to realize Enjou is standing in front of Agnarr and Egill, blocking the perpetrator's view of you.

“Who dares to try to harm their Highness!” Enjou growls, his hands bursting into flames.

You hear a familiar laugh— a bitter laugh that causes goosebumps to appear on your arms. Childe. 

“As if they weren't the ones that cause mass chaos on Teyvat,” Al Haitham hisses.

You peek from behind Agnarr's arms to see Al Haitham standing there, glaring at the three Abyss Lectors. Al Haitham isn't alone. In fact, he's accompanied by twenty-six familiar faces, along with Lumine and Paimon, standing beside her twin brother and Dainsleif. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You yawn dramatically, grabbing everyone's attention.

“If you're all finished with the dramatic entrance, I will be returning to my humble abode now,” you say with a blasé attitude.

Another arrow is shot, flying past your face and slicing your cheek open. You lightly touch the fresh cut on your cheek and gaze at the crimson blood on the tips of your fingers. You scoff, gazing at Gorou, who glares at you and bares his fangs, growling lowly. You wipe the blood on your clothes, shaking your head.

“Oh? So, you want to start something you can't finish?” You smirk bitterly. “Fine, have it your way, pests.”

Itto smirks. “Something we can't finish? I'm pretty sure you're the one that started something that you cannot finish!” Itto proclaims.

You prop your hands on your hips, glaring at the Oni. You cover your face with both hands briefly, sweeping your hands up and back your head, and your appearance changes instantly. Your eyes are bitch black, and the tips of your fingers are pitch black and dark blue with specs of glimmering stars that mimic the galaxy. A long cape similar to Dainsleif's drapes down your back and pools around your feet.

You close your eyes and begin muttering under your breath, your hair illuminating, and the shadows below you come to life, slithering toward your attackers. The first person to be snatched and dragged was Itto because of his annoying egotistical, and overly confident attitude. You hate how obnoxious he is, and he was once your favorite character from Inazuma due to his personality. 

But the longer you stay on Teyvat, the more you can't handle his loud personality. He reminds you too much of a particular person back in your world, and, quite frankly, hurting him will be another way of harming the person you knew in your world without actually harming them. Your patience and sanity have withered away, and you want to make them feel your wrath for how they have treated you since your arrival.

The shadowy tentacles wrap around Itto's ankles, yanking him up into the air before throwing him to the side. Itto lands on the ground with a hard thud, groaning in pain. You snicker and levitate in the air, crossing one leg over the other with your arms over your chest. A portal opens up behind you, and Dainsleif, Lumine, and Aether emerge from the portal, tackling you to the ground. You open the dirt ground, letting it swallow the four of you.

“How dare you attack the Ruler of the Abyss Order!” Enjou howls with anger, throwing balls of flames at your attackers.

Another portal opens beside Agnarr and Egill. You step out of the portal, dusting your clothes off with an infuriated sigh. Agnarr and Egill quickly whisk you away, opening up another portal. Scaramouche growls with anger, pointing at the portal as you, Agnarr, and Egill levitate away.

“They're getting away! Don't let them get away, dammit!” Scaramouche screams.

Xiao growls and appears before you in a blink of an eye and manages to kick you away from the two Abyss Lectors, sending you tumbling to the ground. You groan and kneel, looking up to see Xiao looming over you. Xiao clutches his jade spear so tight that he can snap it in half. The same jade spear you managed to get for him after blowing hundreds of dollars for that weapon on the damn weapon banner. Xiao raises his polearm up, preparing to impale you with his polearm. 

You wince and look away, bracing yourself to get impaled. You hear a loud squelch, a pained gasp, and an anguished scream. You turn to see Enjou's left hand sticking out of Xiao's chest— where his heart should be. You gulp and watch Enjou throw Xiao to the side, letting the Yaksha bleed out on the grass. Agnarr and Egill rush to you, pull you by your arm, and create a portal. The four of you soon fled the scene. 

“How disappointing. I wanted to see them all perish,” you sigh, plopping on your throne while rubbing your temples. “But it looks like I'll have to wait another day to witness the downfall.”

Agnarr comes forward. “Your Highness, are you alright?” asks Agnarr.

“I'm fine, Agnarr. I'm not physically harmed,” you murmur.

Egill gestures to your cheek. You subconsciously touch the wound on your cheek, feeling the stinging thin cut. It's a mere flesh wound, nothing more, nothing less. It's not like it can kill you unless it's laced with poison. If the arrowhead were to be laced with poison, you would've known immediately. It seems like this attack was more improvised than planned, given the fact how messy it turned out for the opposing side. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I'm fine, Egill. It's a mere cut. It won't kill me,” you murmur, brushing away Egill's concern.

The one thing you wish didn't happen was fleeing the scene so quickly. You wanted to watch the opposing side fall. You want to witness the bloodshed in Sumeru. Due to a certain Yaksha almost successfully slaying you, you had to be ushered immediately out of the battlefield and to safety.

“That Adeptus nearly killed you, your Highness. That is inexcusable, and he deserves every ounce of punishment from the Abyss Order,” Agnarr hisses.

You chuckle, shaking your head. It would be funny to see Xiao try and kill you. If he did manage to kill you successfully, the Ruler of the Abyss Order, then who knows how the Abyss Order will react. Watching the downfall of the Archons and the citizens of Teyvat is something you surely do not want to miss out on. 

“I agree with you, Agnarr. Those who intentionally try to harm the ruler of the Abyss Order shall fall and watch the world around them burn and crumble to the ground,” you nod.

After what happened today, you will not be returning to Teyvat until further notice. It's best to remain in the shadows while the Abyss Order does what you say from behind the scenes. In order to take down an entire region, aside from terrorizing the cities and its citizens, you need to take down the beloved Archons of each nation. But the question is: what Archon is going to be your first target? The Anemo Archon? The Geo Archon? The Electro Archon? The Dendro Archon? Heck, maybe the Hydro Archon? You have yet to step foot into the City of Justice, but seeing some familiar faces from her region makes your blood boil.

“What is on your mind, Your Highness?” Enjou asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “Which Archons do you think is the most annoying?” You ask, getting up from your throne. 

The three Abyss Lectors gaze at you quizzically. While their faces are covered, you can tell they’re confused about what you’re implying. You sigh, rubbing your temples. You’re not sure if you can pull it off, but it’s worth a try, right? Is kidnapping an Archon risky? You're the Ruler of the Abyss Order, for fucks sake. So you continued where you left off. 

“Now, I have yet to meet the Geo, Dendro, Hydro, and Electro Archon, so I can’t make a judgment on how annoying they are. However, I did meet the Anemo Archon and….” You trail off, face pinching up with disgust. “What I'm trying to say is let's kidnap an Archon,” you conclude, clapping your hands.

“The question is, who are we going to be kidnapping, your Highness?” Enjou asks.

Your first answer was to kidnap the dear Anemo Archon of Mondstadt. However, thinking back to your encounter with the said Archon, you sure as hell do not want to deal with him again. The first encounter was already enough for you, and the Bard doesn't seem like he would put up much of a fight. You want a challenge, and an Archon who is “deceased” would be the first step to go. Who would notice an Archon disappearing overnight? An Archon who isn't really dead.

That's how you find yourself standing before the Geo Archon in the ruins of Liyue. You could kidnap Zhongli and bring him to the Abyss, but you knew the Abyss would rapidly deteriorate his sanity, and you didn't want that. Yet. The Geo Archon is tied up against a tree in the Chasm, his mouth taped shut to prevent him from calling for a certain Yaksha. The Geo Archon stares at you emotionlessly.

“The citizens of Liyue aren't the brightest. Assuming their God is dead when he's roaming among them, alive and well,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “We never met, and I deeply apologize for this being our first meeting.”

Is it really your first time meeting Zhongli? Zhongli was there when you, Agnarr, Egill, and Enjou were in Sumeru, watching the city burn to the ground. Though, he did not attack you like how the others have tried to attack you. You weren't sure if the Geo Archon had something up his sleeves, but you can't help but feel satisfied with how easy it was to kidnap the Geo Archon. It's almost too easy for your liking.

Zhongli glares at you as you approach him. You grab the tape from the corner and peel it off Zhongli’s lips so he can speak. It’s not like Zhongli is going to call out the name of the short Yaksha to save him. A Geo Archon like himself doesn’t need a savior. Zhongli can get himself out of this situation without an issue, and you’re surprised to see Zhongli not fighting back. Would Zhongli stand a chance against three Abyss Lectors in the corner, watching his every move?

“I see you're the new Ruler of the Abyss. Such a shame to see someone not of this universe become something that destroys the world they once loved,” Zhongli says nonchalantly.

You smirk at Zhongli bitterly. “Once loved, Zhongli. What's there to love when all I've been receiving is hate and being treated like I wasn't human? Your little Yaksha nearly killed me when I first stepped into Liyue,” you hiss, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the palm of your hands.

You didn't want to become those cliche villains who talk the victim's ears off— talking about your tragic background and how you became who you are. But here you are, talking the Geo Archon's ears off about how you were treated when you encountered the people who did you wrong. You wanted to meet the characters— the people— you adored, but you were cast aside. 

Heck, even the hilichurls and mitachurls treated you better than how the Archons and prominent figures of Teyvat treated you. The citizens of Teyvat treat you no differently. They went along with their day and would glance at you every now and then when you visited the cities. They treated you better than those who had visions. And yet here you are, burning down their homes, crops, and businesses all because of a small handful of people making you feel unwelcomed and unsafe when stepping into their nation.

“I'm going to be generous and not kill you. However, I do want something from you, and it's not your gnosis. Your gnosis is useless to me,” You say, standing before the (former) Geo Archon.

Zhongli stares at you, not saying a word. You sigh with disappointment. You don't know how much longer you can take this. Seeing the Geo Archon before you, tied up and defenseless, is fun, but at the same time, it's pathetic. Then again, you would rather be stuck in the same room as Zhongli than the Bard you met in Mondstadt. You squat before Zhongli and grab him by his hair to make him look at you.

“And what is it do you want?” Zhongli asks through clenched jaws. 

Just when you open your mouth to tell him what you want, a polearm pierces you through the chest. You tighten your grip on Zhongli's hair, gasping in pain. You look down to see the blade of Zhongli's vortex vanquisher buried deep in your chest cavity. You release Zhongli and stumble back, hands shaking as you grab the polearm. Zhongli glares down at you, his amber eyes glowing with hate and anger. 

“Did you think you would succeed?” Zhongli hisses, digging the polearm deeper into your chest.

You lie on the ground, blood pooling beneath you while Zhongli stands over you. Zhongli notices the Abyss Lectors have yet to attack him. You, their precious Ruler, are impaled, and yet they're doing nothing to help you. You grab the base of Zhongli's polearm, trying to pull the blade out of your chest, only to fail. You struggled for a few minutes before going limp. Eyes glazed over as your lifeless eyes stared into his soul. Zhongli furrows his eyebrows, questioning why it's so easy to kill you and why the Abyss Lectors didn't attack him for impaling and killing you in front of them.

The tense and quiet air in the Chasm is soon broken by the sound of clapping from a distance. Zhongli looks up to see you leaning against the wall with an amused look on your face. You descended the stairs in all your glory— the very same cape flowing behind you. Zhongli narrows his eyes at you and then at your lifeless body on the ground.

“You put on quite the show, Morax. However, you killed the wrong person,” you giggle.

Your lifeless body soon evaporates into a puff of smoke as the Abyss Lectors stand beside you, forming a barrier between you and the Geo Archon. 

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “It's such a shame to see my clone get slaughtered in front of me,” you mutter, shaking your head with disapproval.

“You....” Zhongli trails off.

You tilt your head to the side, pouting at him mockingly. “I what? Did you think you would successfully kill the Ruler of the Abyss? Oh, please! I wouldn't make it easy for you,” you giggle.

You walk toward Zhongli and caress his face. “You're not in your prime time anymore, Morax. You’ll need to do way more than stab me in the chest to get rid of me,” you whisper. “If you'll excuse me, I have a business to tend to. Agnarr and Egill will be keeping you company while Enjou and I are gone.”

Your clone's blood is splattered on Zhongli's face— not going to lie, Zhongli looks attractive with blood on his face. You let your hand fall to your side, smirk at the Funeral Consultant, and turn around, opening a portal for you and Enjou. 

Once you step through the portal with Enjou, the portal closes, leaving Zhongli and the two Abyss Lectors alone. Zhongli clenches his jaws, tightening his grip on his polearm. Zhongli's not going down without a fight, and he will find a way to escape one way or the other. The first thing he needs to do is get rid of the two Abyss Lectors. He could call Xiao for assistance, but Zhongli can handle this on his own.

In the Abyss, you sit on your throne with your legs crossed over the other as you stare at the two Abyss Lectors. You tap your fingers on the armrest, gaze falling upon the kneeling blond before you. Dainsleif is in cuffs, glaring up at you. When you arrived at the Abyss with Enjou, you were informed that the two Hydro and Cryo Abyss Lectors had captured a certain blond. Now, you're unsure of why Dainsleif was popping in and out of the Abyss, but you have an inkling feeling it's to hunt you down.

“Care to explain by the Abyss Lectors found you roaming around the Abyss?” You grumble.

Dainsleif doesn't reply and continues to glare at you. Dainsleif has cuts littering his body, his lip is cut open, and he looks like he was dragged through debris. Nonetheless, you could care less about his condition at the moment. You sit up and rest your elbows on your knees, raising an eyebrow at the blond man. You sit back and close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose and letting out a slow exhale.

Dainsleif stumbles up while struggling in his cuffs, only for the Cryo Abyss Lector to grunt with annoyance, hitting the blond man on the back of his head. Dainsleif grunts in pain and collapses to the ground on his knees. You click your tongue and open your eyes, gazing into Dainsleif's blue eyes. Dainsleif continues not to say anything, glaring at the ground.

“Your Highness, are you hungry?” Enjou whispers.

You shake your head and dismiss Enjou's question. You leave your throne and step toward the kneeling blond man. Enjou reaches forward and grabs you by your wrist. You turn to Enjou, who shakes his head. You give Enjou a reassuring smile— Enjou swallows. Ever since you agreed to become the new Ruler of the Abyss, Enjou and the other Abyss Lectors, Heralds, and Abyssal creatures have yet to see you smile or laugh. You always have this deep frown and glare— you glared so much that it's permanent at this point.

You step toward Enjou. “I'll be fine, Enjou,” you whisper.

Enjou reluctantly releases your wrist, watching you turn and walk to Dainsleif. You stop before Dainsleif, grab him by the chin, and tilt his head up. Dainsleif stares at you. You want to laugh after seeing him in this state. This is your first time seeing Dainsleif in such a state. It's pathetic and comical. Someone persistent with searching for the Abyss twin, traversing through many regions and maybe even universes, just to find them and snap them out of it. And now Dainsleif is here, kneeling before you and looking pathetic. 

“Never in my life would I see you in this position, Dainsleif. It's shocking and pathetic,” you say nonchalantly. “Care to tell me why you're here? If you're here to kill me, you're going to have to try harder than that. The Geo Archon tried and failed to do so.”

Dainsleif continues not to speak. You release Dainsleif's chin with an annoyed sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. It seems like Dainsleif is even more stubborn than you thought. You wanted to laugh in Dainsleif's face. Why is he in the Abyss, kneeling before you with handcuffs? You would understand if the Abyss Lectors and Heralds captured him for roaming around the Abyss. However, the lack of response from the blond man is putting you on edge. 

Dainsleif lets out a shaky sigh. "I'm here to get you out of the Abyss. You becoming the Ruler of the Abyss Order was a mistake that was never meant to happen," Dainsleif says.

You cross your arms over your chest. Yeah, and your appearance in Teyvat was never meant to happen either, but here you are. You walk to your throne and sit, gesturing for Dainsleif to continue on. If Dainsleif continues to blabber on about something you don't care about, then you're going to call it a day and retreat to your bedroom, and the Abyss Lectors can toss Dainsleif in his prison cell. How could you not join the Abyss Order? Plus, why is Dainsleif suddenly backtracking when your first meeting was the opposite? 

You chuckle bitterly and shake your head. "Oh. Dainsleif. You're a bit too late for that. This is where I truly belong— with the Abyss Order as their Ruler. None of this would've happened if none of you treated me that way," you hiss.

You stand abruptly and begin walking off.

Dainsleif stands. "Wait! Don't leave!" Dainsleif hollers.

You turn around and glare at Dainsleif. Your eyes turn pitch black. "Goodbye, Dainsleif. If you, or anyone, continue to get in my way, I will make sure there's nothing left behind on Teyvat."

And with that, you turn around and storm off with Enjou following you. Dainsleif watches you disappear into the darkness, shoulders slumping. Your nails dig into the palm of your hands, drawing blood. How dare Dainsleif march into the Abyss, demanding for you to leave the Abyss Order when he and the others are the reason why you turn to the Abyss Order for help. The Abyss Order is the only group that accepts you and does not hurt you like how the others did. If they want you to leave the Abyss Order so badly, then they can fight you to the death because you refuse to leave. The Abyss Order is where you truly belong.

Note: I feel like this fic falls under the same route as any other SAGAU fics where the rejected creator!reader joins the Abyss Order because they treat the reader better than the Genshin characters. I haven't read fanfics for Genshin in a while, so idk what's trending nowadays for Genshin. Anyway, I am now going to close the voting for Burning Desire voting for Route 3! Thank you for your votes, and we shall wait and see what happens in the third route! I might take a break from writing (like a one-week break), but idk if I'll go through with it 💀 [this part is copied and pasted from my previous fanfic regarding the Discord server] For those who want to join my Discord server, here is the temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]. Please make sure to read the server rules to save yourself from getting in trouble (if you like the server, you can stay, chat, and lurk. If not, you can leave if you don't vibe with it ^^). Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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