#AND EVEN WHEN HE ESCAPES AND REGAINS HIMSELF IN A WAY- SHE STILL IS OBSESSED WITH HIM AND ASKS HIM TO BE HERSSSSS

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

I found the Charlotte Robespierre-pins-down-Couthon-in-an-armchair-and-calls-him-a-hypocrite anecdote in its full glory within La Révolution, la Terreur, le Directoire 1791-1799: d’après les mémoires de Gaillard (1908) page 263-272. The table of contents claim this event happened in May 1794.

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Gaillard therefore presents himself at Mlle Robespierre's house, she welcomes him in a friendly manner, she does not seek to know the political opinions of her visitor; both talk for a long time about her family and their old acquaintances, she names for Gaillard, with great bitterness, the prodigious number of very honest people dragged to the scaffold by Joseph Lebon; she makes him tell her how he was able to save himself at least from prison and tells him how much pleasure she and her older brother felt in receiving news of him from their younger brother; then Gaillard explains to her the embarrassment he finds himself in and asks her to help him with her advice to save the magistrates of Melun and the signatories of the address to Louis XVI.

”When my younger brother passed through Melun,” said Mlle Robespierre, ”all three of us were living together; I still hoped to be able to bring back the older, to snatch him from the wretches who obsess over him and lead him to the scaffold. They felt that my brother would eventually escape them if I regained his confidence, they destroyed me entirely in his mind; today he hates the sister who served as his mother… For several months he has been living alone, and although lodged in the same house, I no longer have the power to approach him… I loved him tenderly, I still do… His excesses are the consequence of the domination under which he groans, I am sure of it, but knowing no way to break the yoke he has allowed himself to be placed under, and no longer able to bear the pain and the shame of to see my brother devote his name to general execration, I ardently desire his death as well as mine. Judge of my unhappiness!… But let’s return to what interests you. The addresses to the king on the events of 1792 are already far from us; it seems to me that the signatures of these addresses are persecuted less than those who protested against the day of May 31. Try to see Maximilien, you will be content; he was very glad that our younger brother saw you at Melun. On this occasion he spoke with interest of the exercises of your pupils and of the attention you had in entrusting him with presiding over them. I won’t introduce you to him, I would not succeed; I even advise you not to speak to him about me. You will be told he is out, don't believe it, insist on your visit.”

The Robespierre family was housed on rue Saint-Honoré, near the Assomption chapel, the sister and younger brother at the front, the older brother at the back of the courtyard. Gaillard went to Maximilien’s apartment; a young man, looking at him with the most insolent air, said to him, barely having opened the door: “The representative isn’t home…”

“He may not be there for those who come to talk to him about business, but that is not my doing; I will talk to him about his family that I know a lot, you have seen me come out of his sister's apartment who is involved in state affairs no more than I am... Bring my name to the representative, he will receive me, I’m sure of it.”

The fellow did not dare refuse to carry a paper on which Gaillard had taken care to indicate himself in such a way as to be recognized, he immediately came back and gave the visitor his paper saying: “The representative does not know you,” and the door was violently slammed shut!…

The insolence of this brazen man whom Gaillard knew to be the secretary of Robespierre, son of Duplay, to whom the sister attributed the excesses of his brother, the sorrow he felt at losing the hope of saving the judges of Melun and to ensure his personal rest, all these thoughts made him very angry; he calls the young man a liar, insolent, he accuses him of deceiving Robespierre and of increasing the number of his enemies every day, all this in the loudest voice with the intention of being heard by Maximilien and lure him to one of the windows where, surely, he would have recognized him. New disappointment, no one appears and Gaillard goes back to tell Mlle Robespierre about his misadventure.

“I prepared you for it, she told him. ”No one can approach my brother unless he is a friend of those Duplays, with whom we are lodging; these wretches have neither intelligence nor education, explain to me their ascendancy over Maximilien. However, I do not despair of breaking the spell that holds him under their yoke; for that I am awaiting the return of my other brother, who has the right to see Maximilien. If the discovery I just made doesn't rid us of this race of vipers forever, my family is forever lost. You know what a miserable state we found ourselves in, reduced to alms, my brothers and I, if the sister of our father hadn’t taken us in. It’s strange that you didn’t often notice how much her husband’s brusqueness and formality made us pay dearly for the bread he gave us; but you must also have noticed that if indigence saddened us, it never degraded us and you always judged us incapable of containing money through a dubious action. Maximilien, who makes me so unhappy, has never given a hold, as you know, in terms of delicacy. Imagiene his fury when he learns that these miserable Duplays are using his name and his credit to get themselves the rarest goods at a low price from the merchants. So while all of Paris is forced to line up at the baker's shop every morning to get a few ounces of black, disgusting bread, the Duplays eat very good bread because the Incorruptible sits at their table: the same pretext provides them with sugar, oil, soap of the best quality, which the inhabitant of Paris would seek in vain in the best shops... How my brother's pride would be humiliated if he knew the abuse that these wretches make of his name! What would become of his popularity, even among his most ardent supporters? Certainly my brother is very proud, it is in him a capital fault; you must remember, you and I have often lamented the ridicule he made for himself by his vanity, the great number of enemies he made for himself by his disdainful and contemptuous tone, but he is not bloodthirsty. Certainly he believes he can overthrow his adversaries and his enemies by the superiority of his talent.”

The tenderness of this unfortunate girl for her brother was therefore very keen and very blind, she forgot that, a few moments before, she had told Gaillard, with the accent of despair and with eyes filled with tears, that death would seem preferable to the pain of seeing Maximilien dedicate his name to public execration, and yet her brother for his part had devoted mortal hatred to her since the trip she had made to Arras to collect evidence of the massacres carried out by Joseph Lebon.

“In the absence of my brother,” said Mlle Robespierre to Gaillard, would you like to try to see Couthon? He prides himself on being good for me, I will ask him to receive you, he will not refuse me, I will precede you by a quarter of an hour, he will give the order to let you in and we will exit together.”

Gaillard gratefully accepts, takes the address of Couthon who lived at n. 97 of the Cour du Manège, today rue de Rivoli, near rue du 29 Juilliet, and the next morning arrives at the indicated time.

Couthon, whose face was truly angelic, wore a white dressing gown. A child of five or six years old, beautiful as Love, was between his father's legs; he had a young white rabbit in his arms which he was feeding alfalfa. Mme Couthon and Mlle Robespierre stood in the embrasure of a window overlooking the Tuileries.

“You (vous) are,” said Couthon to Gaillard, a friend of Mlle Robespierre, you therefore have every kind of right to my interest, tell me, citizen, how can I be of use to you?”

The fine face, the entourage of innocence, the tone, the manners of good company, this care not to use tutoient when everyone else did so, convinced Gaillard that the slander had attached itself in particular to the person of this worthy M. Couthon, he promises to undeceive all those with whom the deputy had relations.

“Citizen representative, one of your colleagues, Maure, deputy for Yonne, had recalled the former judges, all very honest people, to the courts of Melun, and everyone applauded this act of justice. The popular society was offended by this, it threatened Maure that it was going to denounce him to the Convention as a supporter of Louis XVI and his family, given that these judges had adhered to the address by which the directorate of the department complained of the outrages committed against the king on the day of June 20 1792. The next day your colleague issued a decree dismissing these judges who were not yet installed, and ordered the revolutionary committee to incarcerate them. Can you please tell me by which means these unfortunate judges can escape this act of severity?”

“Admit, citizen,” answered Couthon, “that the Convention is indeed to be pitied for being forced to send as commissioners to the departments a crowd of imbeciles who make it hated and who compromise liberty... Maure doesn’t have the strength to understand that true patriots were saddened and rightly outraged by this fatal day of June 20. The aristocrats, as one said then, were delighted by it, the crimes of the people seemed to them a means of forever losing liberty and reestablishing despotism... It was a duty to rise up against the violation of the home of the first official of the the State and the bloody outrages to which it was subjected that day. I signed an address in which our indignation was expressed in the most energetic terms and I am far from repenting of it. Have the judges you are talking to me about been arrested?”

“No, citizen.”

”That’s what I suspected, they will have been warned; in fact, one is not going to prison automatically, one will have their homes sealed and perhaps not be very eager to arrest them?… Can you assure me, citizen, that these judges are honest men?”

”The most honest people in the country!”

”Well, on reflection, I was going to give you bad advice... based on the distance from Melun to Paris, this is where they will come to hide, one will find them, there is no safety in the prisons of Paris. They'd better go home, they shall be given a guard, they won't even be incarcerated... but once again, how can it be made a crime to have signed these addresses?”

“Citizen,” continues Gaillard, with great emotion, you are convinced that the signatures of these addresses have not committed a crime, you are all-powerful in the Committee of Public Safety where your opinion always prevails. Today, seventy unfortunate people are being led to the scaffold, their condemnation based on nothing other than the signing of these addresses…”

Couthon's face changed, he suddenly takes on the tiger's mask, makes a movement to grab the bell pull... Mlle Robespierre rushes at him to stop him (he was paralyzed from the legs down), turns towards Gaillard and says to him: “Save yourself!” In the confusion into which all this throws him, Gaillard takes Couthon's hat, she notices it, warns him, he runs across the apartment and reaches the stairs. He had barely gone down eight or ten steps when he heard Mlle Robespierre shouting to him: “Go and wait for me at the Orangerie.” (The courtyard of the Orangerie was located at the end of the Terrace des Feuillants where Rue de Rivoli now meets Place de la Concorde).

When Gaillard was able to think, he wondered why the various sentries posted along the Feuillants terrace had not stopped him. A glance in a mirror while picking up his hat in Couthon's salon had told him how altered his face was. Even after leaving the deputy, he did not think he was safe, he did not take four strides without wondering if he was being pursued. He has barely gone down into the courtyard of the Orangery when he goes back up onto the terrace, looking anxiously to see if his good angel was arriving. As soon as he sees her, he runs towards her, loudly asking her five or six questions at the same time without paying attention to the crowd around them. Mlle Robespierre, calmer, tells him in a low voice that she will answer him when they have reached the Place de la Révolution.

“Explain to me, please,” said Gaillard to Mlle Robespierre as soon as they were offshore, ”your haste to tell me to take flight flee and why you held back Couthon in his chair?”

“You were fooled, my dear monsieur, by the profound hypocrisy of Couthon, I was completely fooled myself; I believed your judges saved and you forever at peace like all the signatories of these addresses to Louis XVI... Couthon only showed himself to be so good-natured in order to get to know the depths of your thoughts, you fell into his trap, I could not have avoided it more than you. Your bloody and so justly deserved reproach regarding the 63 victims of today struck in the hearth, my presence, even my confidence could not have stopped his vengeance. The members of the Committee of Public Safety each have five or six men at home who are resolute at their command, because they are constantly trembling. Had he reached the bell pull, this very afternoon you would have been placed in the tumbril alongside the 63 unfortunate people you wanted to save... Fortunately, I succeeded in making him ashamed of the crime he was going to commit by immolating a friend that I had brought to his house... Will he keep his word to me? I followed your conversation very attentively, you did not say a word from which Couthon could conclude that you do not live in Paris... Return home quickly, do not follow the ordinary route out of fear that, remembering the name of the city where your judges were to sit, he sends for men to follow you on the road to Melun.” (1)

Mlle Robespierre barely gives her protégé time to thank her and does not want him to accompany her back to her house. Gaillard leaves immediately without seeing his sister or the two dismissed judges, who have taken refuge in Paris.

(1) The story of Gaillard's visit to Couthon is reproduced almost word for word by M. Lenôtre, in his Paris révolutionnaire, vielles maisons, vieux papiers, 1900, La Brouette de Couthon, p. 279.* Mr. Lenôtre draws his story from the collection of Victorien Sardou's autographs. The note appearing among these authographs which speaks of Couthon comes from Fouché's papers: it is in fact Gaillard who, at the request of his friend Fouché, recorded in writing for him the narration of his interview with Couthon. Gaillard took pleasure in often recounting to the people with whom he was in contact this scene of which he had always retained such a terrifying impression of; this is the reason why it appears today in his memoirs.

*Worth noting is that Charlotte’s identitity is kept a secret in this account, she’s simply described as ”a lady.” This account also includes the detail of Couthon’s son starting to cry and the bunny he was holding getting pushed to the floor once his father gets mad.

[g0ttal0ve101]

The Hall Case

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File contains sensitive material such as: Underage use of alcohol/drugs, child abuse, non-consensual touching, and obsessive behavior.

𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥?

(Yes) (No)

████████████████████

June 1st, xxxx.

11:37 pm.

“I can’t breathe.

…I can’t breathe.

It feels like my lungs are swelling…

Am I…dying?

…No…

I can’t…die yet. Not before I…”

A weight lifted from Thomas’s head. He took a gasp of air before the weight was pressed on his face again, covering his nose and mouth to block off oxygen. After regaining consciousness, the boy began to realize his situation. The pillow he was sleeping with was being pinned against his face, someone on the other side was holding it down. If he didn’t act, then this was it. These would be the last moments of his life.

Without another thought, the boy scrambled to start and kick the person holding him down. He struggled, scratching the hands of whoever was responsible for this as roughly as he could. He heard a muffled yelp from behind the material as it loosened up, allowing him to rip it off his face and get a breath of air. Immediately, he began kicking and smacking the person without a second thought, fighting back as best he could. Quickly, he launched himself off his bed, scrambling to his knees to crawl towards the door.

He could hear the person, presumably a woman by the voice, screeching on the top of her lungs from behind. “THOMAS!” She thundered, grabbing the back of his pajama shirt and choking him with the sudden force. He struggled endlessly as she threw him back onto the bed, finally revealing her face from the angle. “DON’T YOU DARE DISOBEY ME! HOW DARE YOU!” She slaps him across the face before he could process what he was seeing.

“Mom…” He muttered, holding his red cheek with wide eyes. He looks back up at her, his heart completely splattering onto the floor. His mother’s black hair fell in her face messily, her blue eyes piercing through Thomas’s skull intensely. Her lips were visibly chapped, her face was paler than snow, her makeup was utterly ruined and smeared across her face. She looked like a lunatic.

The demented woman slaps him again, this time even harder. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

The boy doesn’t say a word, beginning to tear up from the harmful impacts on his face. He tries his best to escape again, but the woman continually sticks her finger in his face as if to discipline him. “GO TO HELL! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! GO TO FUCKING HELL!”

Thomas doesn’t move for a while, his mouth hanging open from shock. “Wh-Why…why are you…”

“I have hated you ever since you were born.” Amelia hissed, resting her hands against his throat as if she were going to choke him. “I tried everything. Drowning you, poisoning you, stabbing you…but that man always got in the way.” Her eyes grew dark as soon as she thought about Adrien, her heart being torn apart just by the resemblance of his face on Thomas. Those eyes. Those big blue eyes staring up at her worriedly were identical to the ones his father had when looking at Amelia. It made her want to vomit. She applied more pressure against Thomas’s neck, breathing heavily as if she had just ran a marathon non-stop. The boy recognized this as hyperventilating. She was absolutely unstable.

“He…loved you…he fucking loved you. A mistake, a stupid…STUPID mistake. I didn’t want you! WHY THE FUCK WOULD I WANT TO GET PREGNANT TO THAT MAN?!”

Thomas could only stare up at his mother, trembling in her grip. He didn’t want to hit her, not while she was obviously having a mental episode. If he could find a way to calm her down, it would be the best outcome. He slowly sits up, seeing that Amelia was too busy sobbing to notice, and moves away from her grasp. Like he thought, the woman was still crying and had no response to his movements. He was scared - of course he was scared, she just tried to kill him again. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than stare.

“I hate him…I hate him so much…” Amelia whined, wiping her tears. The makeup she wore completely drenched her face. “H-He…he did this to me…he did all of this…”

Thomas gulps before using his voice toward her. He never liked to talk when she was having an episode like this, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Mom…what happened with you and dad…? Why do you hate him so much?”

The boy was met with a disturbing smile. His mother looked like she could be out of a horror movie. Wounds, tears, smudged makeup, everything on her face looked disgusting. She giggled with an insanely wide grin, lifting her head up to face the ceiling. She was absolutely mental.

“Welllll…you see, my dear…” Amelia hung her head back, scratching at her neck in a sing-song voice. “Your father was a well-known man! He was training to be a doctor, but ended up taking over his father’s business, Hall’s Robotics, to make prosthetic limbs. He had lots of money, such a high intelligence, and an absolutely handsome face. Not to mention, he was still incredibly young. Only seventeen. All the girls wanted him, but he wasn’t a good man, Thomas. Your father isn’t a good man.”

“…Wh…What did he do?” Thomas stammered.

Amelia smiled even wider, tapping the side of her face with her index finger. “He was a narcissistic ass. Always talking about himself, flaunting his money around girls he thought were cute…but once he got what he wanted out of them, he left them in the dirt. I’ll tell you, he loved seeing the face of someone who had completely broken down. He would stab and stab at these girl’s hearts until there was nothing left but dust. He was terrible. Oh, yes. Just terrible, Thomas.”

Thomas stared at his mother in awe. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His father, Adrien, never seemed to be a man who would do something to hurt a woman. In fact, he always treated his girlfriends with care and proper respect from what Thomas saw. But he knew that his mother wasn’t lying - The look on her face showed him that she was telling the full hearted truth about her ex-husband. That fact alone made Thomas’s heart skip a beat.

“Eventually, he seduced me too…” Amelia continued, playing with her hair. “But I wasn’t too interested. Once we got in a relationship I…I cheated on him multiple times. He remained loyal to me, but I didn’t care. He was a narcissist, like I said. I never really liked him, but those eyes were to die for. But when he found out, we were two years in. I didn’t know he knew for the longest time. Then, suddenly, I got pregnant by him. I knew straight away that he did this so that I couldn’t leave him. That psychopath…he was so in love with me that he would trap me with a baby! He denied it, saying it was an accident, but I didn’t believe him. My parents disowned me, my reputation was ruined. So…I…” Amelia touches her stomach, recalling the memories from deep within her mind. She smiled at the scene, lifting her hand and balling it into a fist. “…tried to kill that baby.”

The two of them finally lock eyes. Thomas had a horrified expression plastered on his face while Amelia could only smile. At that moment, they both knew what she was speaking of - the actions that led into Thomas’s health conditions today. He rested his hands against his arms in an attempt to comfort himself, but it did no good. She continued as if she were proud of what she did to him.

“It started with smoking and drinking heavily. But since I was already seven months in, I began to think it was too late for that method.” She smiles sadistically, grabbing Thomas’s face roughly as to intimidate him. He helplessly stares back at her. “I tried to poison you…but that didn’t work either. Nothing was working. So…I waited until you were born to try again. That’s when I suffocated you. I drowned you. I poisoned you, Thomas. But…I’m sure you remember that, don’t you? You remember…because I’ve been trying ever since.”

Thomas only lowers his head in response. He didn’t want to recall what his mother had done to him over the years, but the slight mention of it brought back many memories. One year old, she had tried to kill him with rat poison. Two years old, she tried to drown him in the bathtub. Three years old, she tried to snuff him out with a pillow as he slept. Four years old, she left him behind in the middle of a mall for eleven hours. Five, six, seven, she desperately tried those methods over and over again. Then, finally, eight years old.

Thomas could vividly remember eating dinner with his little sister, Lindsey. She was crying after her father beat them both for chipping a cup while putting dishes away. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but since she was only six at the time, she was screaming her head off. Their mother, who was in the kitchen with them, had no response to her daughter’s cries. She was cutting vegetables with a large knife, slowly and with precision. With every cry getting louder, the knife would speed up. Thomas tried to get Lindsey to calm down, but she just couldn’t shut up. The knife grew faster and faster until eventually, Amelia had snapped. She grabbed her son with the knife tightly secured in her free hand, and the rest was history.

That night, he went to the hospital and Adrien immediately took full custody of him.

Thomas was traumatized by the experiences with his mother, but it was never spoken about. He figured he would just forget about it once he hit a certain age, but the memories never faded completely. But in that moment, all of the betrayal he had felt came back to haunt him.

Amelia laughs at the boy’s shaken expression, shoving her hand harshly against his chest. “What’s wrong? Do you remember all that shit I did to you? A helpless little kid? Do you remember, Thomas dear? How awful I am? Well, don’t blame me for it. Blame your father. He’s the one who got me pregnant with a mistake like you in the first place.

“N-No…” Thomas grasps his head, shuddering at the thought of his father being responsible for everything. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t be. His father was wonderful. He stood by Thomas’s side no matter what they faced together. The same man who comforted him throughout thunderstorms, the one who gave him a puppy for his ninth birthday, the one who painted him all the time and hung his photos up on the wall as if he were made of gold - Adrien loved Thomas. He didn’t think of him as a mistake - He thought of him as his son. With that engraved into his mind, Thomas finally finds the words he was looking for right on the tip of his tongue. “Dad loves me. He doesn’t think of me that way.”

The dark-haired woman smiled wickedly at those words. “Loves you?! LOVES YOU?! DON’T MAKE ME LAUGH!”

With those words leaving her mouth, Amelia wraps her hands around Thomas’s neck again and squeezed as hard as she could. Again, he struggles back, this time kicking her stomach without any sort of mercy. She coughs up saliva before covering her stomach instinctively, leaving the boy an opportunity to run.

Now enraged, his mother snaps her head and screams, “YOU’RE JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER, THOMAS! JUST LIKE HIM! JUST LIKE HIM, JUST LIKE HIM, JUSTLIKEHIMJUSTLIKEHIM-!”

Thomas doesn’t look back, bursting out of his room without a moment to lose. He bolts down the hall as fast his legs could carry him, not daring to look back. However, it was only a matter of time before his mother caught up to him, grabbing the back of his pajama shirt and yanking him toward her like she had done in the bedroom. Thomas couldn’t breathe, he continually got choked over and over by his mother. Once again, he struggles from Amelia, only to realize that they were right above the long and steep staircase that led to marble flooring. He tried to stop struggling, as his mother could easily fall down the flight of steps, shoving her against the nearest wall to get her away from the stairs. She didn’t seem to appreciate that though, continuing to try and choke the boy out with all of her might.

“Mom, let go!” Thomas fumed, prying her hands away from his neck. She scratched him all the way off, blood pouring from the wounds she had just created.

As soon as she lets go, Thomas bolts toward the steps, making a run back downstairs to leave. However, once he reached the first step, Amelia pushed him as hard as she could, causing him to lose his balance and fall.

Dark blood sprayed everywhere when he hit the floor. Thomas could feel his ears ring so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything around him. His vision was getting blurrier and blurrier by the second, but his eyes were locked on only one thing: The fireplace. Flames danced elegantly where they were kept, licking the wood that his stepfather had thrown in a few hours ago. Even with his head bleeding out, Thomas enjoyed the sight of it.

“It’s over...I’m going to die,” he thought as the flames grew into orange specks. His blue irises grew darker than ever before in his life; Cold, without a shear of light in them. Just how flames are snuffed out, ceasing to exist.

“To…my! …om…!”

A soft voice began to make its way through the ringing in Thomas’s head, but just barely. The raven-haired boy began to open his eyes again, trying to see who was calling for him. Not that it would help, but he wanted to see his family for the last time. So, he held onto what life he had left.

Gently, a small hand was placed on Thomas’s forehead. His eyes couldn’t process who was touching him, but he felt comforted with the presence nearby. Too small to be his stepfather or his sister, so it must be…

“Tommy! Wh-What happened?! You have a boo-boo! What should I do?!”

Teddy.

As soon as the realization hit, Thomas knew that he had to protect his brother from their mother. He could just barely make out the boy’s face, only seeing his teary baby-blue eyes gaping at his bloody figure. Thomas grabs the boy’s hand tightly, trying to muster out a warning to leave. Their mother wasn’t in the right mind, he didn’t know what she was capable of doing to the child. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing was coming from his mouth. He began to taste blood from the back of his throat, choking him up more.

Then, everything went black.

████████████████████

July 23rd, xxxx.

11:37 pm.

Freddy stands in front of the worn-down house, his heart pounding in his chest. Ever since Thomas had gone to his mother’s house, Charlie hasn’t been hanging around the streets as much. Of course, being his best friend, the ginger wondered where he was for all these months. Charlie wasn’t the type to drop off of the Earth like that, he always told Freddy where he was going and why, especially if it was for a long while. So, that curiosity brought him to where he was standing that day - Charlie’s house. His house was small and a bit rundown compared to Freddy or Thomas’s. Overgrown grass, muck stuck on the panels, the gutter broken off of the house, many problems all combined into a bad look. Only he and his older sister lived in the house, which was most likely to blame for the condition of the building. He had never gone inside, in fact, he only knew where it was because the bus dropped him off. Thinking back on it, Charlie never really spoke of his homelife after he had run off from his parents. Freddy knew only the basics; He lived with his sister, who was a nurse, because his parents weren’t shit. Especially not their dad; Freddy didn’t know what that guy did, but he knew about Charlie’s hatred toward him.

Freddy takes a deep breath and casually walks up the porch steps, shielding himself from the rain pouring down onto the street. He felt totally out of place standing there unannounced, but he was too curious to stop now. He brushes himself off before knocking on the door two times. His ginger hair was soaked and sticking to his face, which made him look admittedly less ready to face the girl inside. However, he didn’t back down, knowing that Charlie was on the line.

The door creaked open after a minute or two. There stood a young woman who was practically identical to Charlie. She had beautiful dark skin, big brown eyes, and curly chocolate-colored hair that was up in a messy bun. After seeing who stood in front of her door, she opened the door wider to reveal her night-robe and slippers, leaning against the doorframe. “What did Charlie do this time?” She sighed with annoyance.

Freddy gulped. He knew it was wrong, but as soon as he saw the woman, he was immediately attracted to her. Nervously laughing, he rubs the back of his neck and looks toward the ground. “O-Oh, uhh…sorry to bother you…?”

“Amaya. The name is Amaya.” The young woman fills in his space.

“Amaya. That’s a pretty name. I was…err…just wondering where Charlie was.”

She gave Freddy a look down, seeing that he wasn’t a threat in the slightest, and sighed deeply. Resting her shoulder against the doorway, she begins looking at her nails as she answers. “I kicked him out.”

“...What??”

“He was starting up on drugs again, so I kicked him out.” Freddy’s heart shattered into one thousand pieces when he heard the news. He tried to respond, but his throat was so choked up that he couldn’t muster out a thing. Amaya continues. “Ever since that Thomas boy got into a huge accident, Charlie couldn’t help but to get back on that shit. He was too stressed out not to. Of course, I’m not gonna put up with any sorta drugs in my house, so I threw him in the streets. I doubt he’ll be out there for long, though. As long as he doesn’t get too hooked on it, he’ll come running back here in no time.”

Freddy’s face grew hot. He felt like he was going to pass out with all the questions swirling around in his head. “Accident?! What kinda accident-wh-how?!”

“I don’t know all the details…” The woman spoke. “But. I do know that the boy got a serious head injury. He fell into a three day coma, had to undergo lots of surgeries, and…well…became partially amnesic. Yeah, it messed with my brother a lot. I mean…I still tried to help him, don’t think I didn’t! But…that boy is way too stubborn.”

Trembling. Freddy was now absolutely shaken to the core. He didn’t know how bad this actually was, and now that he knew, he could barely breathe. His words became jumbled up in his brain, eventually just exploding out. “D-Do…I…w…where do you think Charlie is? How long has he been gone??”

The lady saw how visibly upset the boy was, feeling a tad bit bad for him. “About a week now. I’m sure he’s hanging with the wrong people…if you can find him, try to talk some sense into him, alright?”

And with that, she shuts the door in Freddy’s face. He remains still for a few seconds, trying to process what had just happened. He then grew a sudden determination in his chest, turning on his heel and running off of the porch into the rain. His hands curled into fists as his eyes began to water with tears, having almost no clue what he was going to do. If Charlie got back on it, then he was bound to be acting out of sorts. It had been two years since he got off the drug, how could he just go back to his old ways? Couldn’t he see that Thomas wouldn’t want that for him? What was he thinking? Freddy just couldn’t comprehend the thought of Charlie making such a poor choice.

There wasn’t much he could do to find him at the moment though, considering the rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up anytime soon and he had no clue where the boy was. But it didn’t stop him from beginning his search. Throwing his purple hoodie up above his head, the ginger began hurrying down the sidewalk to find where Charlie had been hiding.

████████████████████

July 23rd, xxxx.

12:00 am.

“It’s loud…it’s too loud…”

“I’ll be home soon, honey. Please just try to get some rest, okay?”

“B-But…I can’t…it’s so loud…”

“I know, I know. I’m on my way now.”

Thomas trembled at the sound of thunder rumbling outside his window. He hated how unexpected every crash was, how loud it rang in his ears, and how close it could get to him. Rain poured onto his rooftop, making the noise even louder than Thomas was comfortable with. He couldn’t remember why he was so afraid of thunderstorms, but he could sure feel it. And for that reason, he remained on the phone with his father for almost an hour. He couldn’t go to sleep with such crazed weather outside. It was like he was in the middle of a disaster zone.

Thomas felt his hands start to clench as he prepared himself for another crash, softly whining into the phone by accident. This only made Adrien panic on the other end. He wanted to comfort Thomas as best he could, but if he wasn’t there, he knew that none of his words would help. Taking a few deep breaths, Adrien begins. “It’s okay, Thomas. Just relax. The lightning can’t reach you, you’re inside.”

“D-Dad…please come home…please, please come home…I’m…I’m scared.”

“Prince, please don’t cry…”

CRASH

Thunder loudly boomed outside. Thomas jumps and covers his head with his pillow securely to protect himself from the obnoxious noise. It only seemed to work slightly, as the raindrops against his window were muffled.

To get his mind off of the rainstorm, Thomas clenched his eyes shut and tried his best to listen to Adrien’s voice. However, it didn’t seem to help that the call was starting to drift off.

“D-Dad!”

“I’m…prince…wh…rong?”

Thomas’s breathing became unsteady. He couldn’t do this alone. He needed to hear his father say something, anything. But the call slowly grows dead from the lack of signal they had. In frustration, Thomas throws his phone across the room with a large thud. It didn’t break, luckily, but it didn’t help the boy feel any better about his situation. He hides his head beneath the covers again, praying that the storm would stop soon.

Lighting struck outside the balcony, illuminating the whole sky before disappearing in a flash. He flinched and waited for the thunder, but it never came. Lifting his head from off his bed, he saw a figure standing right by his balcony door, eerily remaining still. For a second, Thomas thought his mind was playing tricks on him because of how scared he already was. However, his fear exploded into being terrified as the figure opened the door that led into his bedroom.

Did someone break in? Should he get the phone? Should he run away? What should he do? What should he do? His mind was doing cartwheels.

“Thomas.” The figure called for him in a low, coaxing voice. It didn’t seem condescending at all, despite the fact that he had just broken into his home. There wasn’t enough light to see who it was, but he could tell that they definitely knew each other. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known his name.

Thomas finds himself hunched against the side of his bed, trying his best to keep his distance from the figure that was slowly approaching. If he tried to make a run for it, there was no telling if the intruder had a weapon with him. He could easily get shot as soon as he moved. Staying still seemed to be working, since he wasn’t dead yet. However, as the distance between them grew less and less, Thomas felt the urge to run more and more.

“Are you scared?” The voice hummed, now at the side of his bed. Thomas stared blankly but saw no features in the darkness. “Don’t be afraid. It’s me…”

A hand crept onto Thomas’s face shortly after those words. Lighting strikes again with a flash, revealing the boy’s features for a split second. Although he couldn’t remember him, it was Charlie. The same old Charlie with big hazelnut eyes and curly brown hair. Everything was the same about him, except for the large bags that laid beneath his eyes and the dirty clothes he wore.

Thomas slaps the hand away from himself, backing away to the other side of the bed. Charlie didn’t like that. He watched as the boy frantically tried to get away from him. He didn’t want to do anything to hurt him, but he knew that he would have to rough him up just a little for his plan to work. This wasn’t his Thomas yet. It was just a stupid, stuck-up boy who had no clue of how the real world worked. The thought made Charlie’s chest itch with anger. He hated when he acted like that.

“Do you wanna die, Thomas?”

A gasp came out of his lips without a thought. Thomas quickly covers his mouth and scrabbles away, now deathly afraid of what was going to happen next. He watches as the figure pulls two items from his pocket that were hard to make out. It wasn’t until another lightning bolt flashes in the sky that Thomas saw it was a gun with some tape.

Frozen. Thomas was frozen in place. A bead of sweat dripped from down his face from the pure horror he felt. He was going to die. He was going to get shot. He was going to get murdered.

“I asked you a question.” Charlie approached the trembling boy, lifting the gun to aim at him. “Do you wanna fucking die?!”

“N-No…! I…!” Thomas lifted his arms above his head in a pathetic attempt to protect himself from the blow. “I’m sorry…! I’m sorry!”

Charlie hated hearing his voice like that, but he knew it had to be done. He stormed over toward the boy and roughly grabbed his face, forcing eye contact with him. Thomas’s eyes were filled with tears that had yet to fall. He trembled at Charlie’s touch - he had never done that before. It felt awful. Just awful.

“P-Please…don’t kill m-!”

“Shut your mouth.” Charlie bends down and puts the gun against his forehead, an empty stare piercing through his skull. “I want you to tape your hands up for me. If you try to run, I’ll blow your brains out.”

Thomas obeyed his command. He flinched as another thunderbolt boomed outside, but otherwise followed Charlie’s order as if it were law. Charlie watched over like a hawk until his wrists had fully been secured. After that, he grabbed the boy’s arms and lifted him onto his feet, forcing him to the bedroom door with the gun aimed at his temple. They silently walked down the steps and through the home until they made it to the front door, where Charlie had parked outside. Rain drenched the two of them as they both walked to the car, Thomas utterly terrified to be outside at that moment. Not only was he being kidnapped, but the lightning could clearly reach him without trouble now. That scared him more than anything.

There wasn’t much to dry off with inside the vehicle. As Thomas sat in the passenger’s seat, shivering from the cold, Charlie desperately searched for the towel he thought he had somewhere within the car. Once he came back empty handed, he knew he had to resort to heating.

“I’m sorry, babe. There isn’t anything I can dry you off with…”

Thomas doesn’t bother to even look at him. Instead, he stared at the floor as if it had the answer to escaping the situation. Feeling how tense the boy was, Charlie knew he had to do something to ease his mind. So, he threw the gun back behind him to ensure it wasn’t in his reach, showing his hands to him to prove he had no more weapons. Thomas seemed a bit relieved, but still incredibly scared.

“Thomas…” Charlie called, his eyes melting into adoring ones. He cleared his throat, resting his hands against the wheel. “I’m sorry I scared you. I…I know you must hate me right now, but…” A dark smile crept upon his face, his eyes growing with pure mayhem. Thomas felt his heart start to pound out of his chest just seeing the expression. It was disgustingly close to obsession. “I did this all for you! If you didn’t come with me, you’d totally be changed into something you aren’t! I saved you, baby! Aren’t you happy? Aren’t you?”

Baby. That wasn’t a pet name you would give your friend. Thomas’s mind began to wander in many different directions. One, in fear. Two, in confusion. And three, in curiosity. He wanted to escape, but at the same time, something urged him to stay. He didn’t have a reason why he felt this way, but a guess was that his mind subconsciously remembered this boy. It seemed like they knew each other really well before Thomas had lost his memories, so perhaps his mind wanted him to stay as it knew Charlie was trustworthy. He didn’t know. But either way, he knew that something was terribly wrong with this whole situation.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you remember me…no matter if you don’t wanna.” Charlie turned the car key the rest of the way to start the engine. Thomas found himself completely trapped. He tried to reply, only to be shut down again. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll make our visit niceee and sweet. Just like it used to be.”

“But-!”

Charlie slammed on the gas, causing the car to fly down the road. It was obvious that he was passing the speed limit but that wasn’t the top of Thomas’s worries. He instinctively reached for the seatbelt in case Charlie may wreck, only for the boy to smack his taped hands.

“My Thomas didn’t care about safety or dumb shit like that!” Charlie laughed. “All he cared about was having some fun!”

Thomas clenched his seat for dear life and went completely silent as he was too scared to reply. The car screeched as they made a sharp left turn, hitting someone’s trash can as they did. Charlie let out another ring of laughter as he increased the speed.

“You need to slow down! It’s too rai-!”

“Chill out, babe! Just have some fun!”

“B-But I’m scared!”

“That’s called adrenaline. Make that rush into a good thing! That’s what you would’ve done before!”

“I-!”

“WOAHHHH!” Charlie spun for a second without control, causing the entire car to make an ear aching squeal.

After ten minutes of speeding, spinning, and wrecking into trash cans, the car came to a halt. Thomas felt like he was going to be sick and the fact that the window was locked didn’t help him in the slightest. He gazed helplessly at Charlie, who was already looking at him when he had turned to. There was a soft smile that rested on his lips as he looked out the front window that showed a heavenly view of the moon. Thomas was amused too, but still shaken up by the incident that just occurred. He prayed with all his might that they wouldn’t start driving again.

“…Hey…” Thomas whispers. “Wh-Where are we?”

Charlie doesn’t remove his eyes from the window as he replied. “We’re where you loved to hang out at. Me and you…but, we never hung in the car. Always on the top of that abandoned building.” He pointed to the left of him, where an empty structure stood.

Thomas gulped, wondering if they were trespassing by being here.

“Do you…remember my name, Thomas?”

“…No…I-I’m sorry…”

There was a cold, eerie silence. Thomas didn’t want to make eye contact in the slightest, feeling a sudden wave of dread overcome him.

Charlie merely chuckled at his response. “That’s weird, huh? You were screa…” He stopped mid-sentence and changed his sentence topic. “…Nevermind. I’m not gonna let you go until you remember.”

“Wh-Wh…but my dad-!”

“Do you think I give a rat’s ass about your dad?” Charlie hissed. Thomas grows quiet. He then shakes his head to answer him, afraid that he would make him angry if he didn’t. Of course, Charlie’s eyes still remained on the sky, so he didn’t seem very concerned with his reply anyway. “I have an idea that might recall some of your memories. You wanna try it?”

Thomas felt an overwhelming amount of weight land on his shoulders. He did not want to go around in the car again under any circumstances. However, he desperately wanted to remember something. He had no recollection of his life before the fall, so any chance he had of remembering something, he would take. That being said, with a hesitant voice, he responded. “As long as it’s safe…”

Charlie turned his head away from the window to look at Thomas. Unsure how to react, Thomas decided that holding eye contact as long as possible was the best option. It seemed like Charlie was trying to tell him something through the look in his eyes, but Thomas just wasn’t understanding it. That was, until Charlie moved almost the entire upper half of his body onto Thomas’s side of the car, pinning him to the seat. Blush reddened his face as he realized what was happening.

Thomas felt his head hit against the cushioned seat, finding himself cornered by the boy. His arms were beside both of his legs, his face inches away from Thomas’s. Charlie gave him all the time in the world to stop him from getting closer in case he didn’t want to, but he didn’t move away. That’s when Charlie connected their lips together without another moment of hesitation.

It was gentle, but not too gentle. Charlie wanted the boy to remember him after he did this, so he knew that he would have to kiss him the same way they always did before. However, once he pulled away from him, Thomas looked like he was on the verge of tears. He covered his mouth with his hand, processing what had just taken place.

“Thomas…what’s wrong?”

“…I…I wanna go home.” The raven-haired boy turned away from Charlie, attempting to unlock the door and leave himself.

Even if he did make it out, there was nowhere for him to go, because he had no idea where he was. But what made him feel worse was the fact Charlie had child-locked the door so that he couldn’t get out. Regretting his every action, Thomas slowly cocked his head into Charlie’s direction. He was met with two cold, lifeless eyes. Now in a moment of panic, Thomas tries the door again out of desperation. He knew all too well the door wasn’t going to open, but he was too afraid not to keep trying.

That was, until Charlie grabbed his shirt and pulled him back towards himself, kissing him forcefully this time. Thomas’s heart was pounding. He knew that he couldn’t leave. Charlie could do anything he wanted - And that thought scared Thomas the most.

Charlie slides his hand up Thomas’s shirt and rests it against his chest to feel his heartbeat, smiling just a little bit with their lips still entwined. “You wanna go home? Is that what you said?”

“St-Stop…”

“Shhhh, shh, shh…no, you don’t. You wanna be with me, baby. I know you better than that…”

“Stop!” Thomas shoved Charlie off the best he could with the strength he had. Seeing that the boy was growing unsettled, Charlie decides to back off.“Let me go! Take me back!”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Thomas went silent due to being stunned by such crude words. He wanted to escape so badly and run to his father who would keep him safe, just as he promised to. He felt tears stinging in his eyes as his hands held onto the car door’s handle and pulled it again, wanting to hear the satisfaction of it unlocking. Charlie reached for his face from behind, gracefully grasping his cheeks that were freezing to the touch. Thomas gasped a little at the sensation of Charlie’s fingertips on his cheeks, slowly looking upward to see the boy’s face looking down upon him. He didn’t have to say anything to let Thomas know that he had no intention of letting him leave, but he did anyway.

“You’re mine now, Thomas. We’ll be together until you die. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“…H-Huh…no…no! I don’t want that at all!” Thomas cried, shaking his hands off and pulling on the handle repeatedly. Tears were now actually falling down his face as he tried to escape again, only to see it was no use. “I wanna go home! Please t-take me home…my dad-!”

Thomas comes to a halt when he feels Charlie’s lips against his neck. “You don’t need him when you have me…you only need me.” Charlie whispered seductively into his ear, lowering his hands down to his shoulders. “We can go to Hollywood like we always wanted to…start our new lives…together.”

As weird as it was, those words started having an impact on the boy. He felt almost captivated by the idea of leaving this place, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was his wish before he had lost all of his memories? He couldn’t tell. Charlie brushes his fingertips down Thomas’s arms, grabbing his pale and fragile hands from off the handle. “Baby, don’t cry. I know you’re scared…but I’ll make it all better.”

“…I…b-but…”

“Shh…forget going home. Focus on me. Only me, Thomas.” Charlie kisses the tip of his ear, once again silencing the boy from defying him. He watches as Thomas’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch as he always did. It was cute to watch him give up so easily. “Good boy…you’re so handsome…”

“…I can’t…” Thomas moves away from his embrace, touching his ear where the boy’s lips once were. “…Y-You know I can’t…”

“Shh, no…don’t listen to your head.” Charlie insists, grabbing onto the boy once more. This time, he didn’t struggle at all. Smiling at this, Charlie continues. “What is your heart telling you?”

“…I…I wanna…stay here, with you…” Thomas muttered softly. He feels Charlie’s hands rest against his chest, filling his heart more and more with desire. It wasn’t right. He knew it wasn’t right. This boy kidnapped him. He put a gun to his head. He forced a kiss onto him. But still, being in his arms felt almost natural. It was wrong. He shouldn’t feel this way. Why did he feel this way?

“Thatta boy. That’s the face I wanna see.” Charlie held him close, looking deeply into his sapphire eyes. “You’ll remember me in no time.”

████████████████████

July 23rd, xxxx.

2:47 am.

Knock, knock.

Jesse tries to ignore the sound he just heard, burying his head into his pillow further. He figured that whoever it was would get the message after the second attempt and leave, but boy was he wrong.

“Hello?? Helloooo?? Jesse, get out here, fat ass~”

That voice was all too familiar. The blonde lifts his head from the couch and looks up toward the window, where he saw two eyes meet his. A look of shock transformed into disgust.

“WHAT THE FUCK??”

There stood Freddy with his face against the window, basically PEEPING on him when he was asleep. Jesse thought quick enough to cover his lower half with a sheet before getting up and storming to the front door. The blonde ripped open the wooden structure and stormed outside onto his porch, dragging the sheet behind him to cover himself up. Freddy laughed hysterically at the sight, but ended up getting a lesson taught to him with a few nasty punches.

“WHY. THE. FUCK. ARE. YOU. HERE.” Jesse demanded an answer with his raspy New York accent, grabbing the ginger’s hair and shaking him around a bit.

Freddy didn’t seem too proud of himself now that he was getting beat up. He groaned in pain and rubbed his head, answering. “Cause I need your help.”

“HAH! That’s not gonna happen, you perv! You’re friends with a bunch of manwhores!”

“Rude. I’m not a manwhore.”

“Then explain why you hang with Charlie and Thomas.” Freddy lifts his hands in the air and shrugs to give his answer to the boy. This only riled him up more. “EXACTLY. You’re just as gay as they are.”

The ginger yawned to try and throw Jesse off guard by acting like he was unbothered. He then put one hand on his hip and the other hand on Jesse’s bare chest. “Listen here, fatass, you’re naked in front of the whole neighborhood right now. If someone looks out the window, you’re toast. Let’s go in.”

“Jeez…” Jesse groans, opening the front door to invite the boy in. He didn’t really want to, but Freddy did have a point about everyone being able to see him out there. If that happened, he would be the next gossip at school.

The ginger marched straight on in without even the slightest bit of hesitation. He examines a few things from the messy house, picking up a book and tossing it over his shoulder once he realized it was for school, plopping himself right on the couch like this was his own house. Jesse slammed the door shut and stormed over toward Freddy, who was once again, picking up another object.

“Is there a reason you’re here at two o’clock in the morning?”

“…Yeeeesssss…?”

“Why.”

Freddy rests his head against the back of the couch, letting his ginger hair fall into his face as he did so. “You sell drugs, right?”

A silence crept between them. Jesse was taken aback by that question. He didn’t expect someone like Freddy would be asking him about it. After all, there wasn’t any sort of implications that he would be into that sort of thing beforehand. Grumbling a few words under his breath, the electric blonde flopped onto the couch next to him and regretfully replied. “…Yeah. I didn’t know you-“

“I don’t want any. Has Charlie hit you up lately?” Freddy asks, his eyes no longer having the playful look they always did. That’s when Jesse began to realize something was terribly wrong. After all, the ginger never lost that gleam in his eyes.

“…No. I wouldn’t give him any anyway, he’s a dick.”

Jesse watches as Freddy tries to form his new question, growing more worried by the second. “Do you know anyone else he could get them from?”

“What’s going on? Why are you asking this shit…?”

Freddy now locks eye contact with him, showing how serious he actually was. “Charlie got kicked onto the streets a week ago and I haven’t been able to find him. Apparently he’s been getting some of that shit lately. Thomas got fucking messed up too, so don’t tell me to ask him. He got in a freak accident or something.”

“Damn…” Jesse scratches the back of his head. He felt bad for the boy all of a sudden. It wasn’t that he cared for the other two, but those were his friends. Without them, he was practically a loner. He knew all too well how that felt. With a deep sigh, Jesse progressed. “...You sure he isn’t back with his dad?”

“Hell no. He hates his dad.”

“Fuck…I don’t know then.”

“Exactly. I need to find him before he does something stupid.” Freddy sighs, almost annoyed at this fact. “When he’s high, Charlie is soooo fucking dumb. And horny.”

“H-Hor-how do you even know that??” Jesse asks with suspicion gleaming in his eyes. He eagerly awaited for an answer he could hold above his head for the rest of his school career.

Freddy only answers with the hand. “All I gotta ask is if you’ll help me find him. I know we’re dicks to each other, but I don’t have any other person who I’d think would help me. And…you’re like…the drug expert here? I don’t really fuck with that shit.”

There was a pause between the two of them. The blonde was thinking deeply about what his reply was going to be and the ginger awaited his response nervously. If he was rejected, he would have to search by himself, which had been leading him nowhere so far. If Jesse helped, he could get a free car ride around town and possibly a chance to meet new girls - and by that, he means he could find Charlie sooner.

“…Fuck it. I don’t have anything better to do.” Jesse laughed hoarsely, brushing his fingers through his hair.

Freddy smiles brightly but quickly dies it down so as to not draw that much attention to his excitement. “Niceee. Thanks, man.”

The blonde stands up with the sheet tightly secured around his waist. “It’s whatever,” he says with a stretch. “But I’m not starting tonight. I’m tired as hell.”

A few blinks occurred before Freddy answered. “Damn, I have to go all the way back home? Shit…some drunk guys at the pub were cat calling me on my way here! C’mon man!”

“Bruh, they must be fucking WASTED if they’re gonna cat call YOU.” Jesse teases the boy, marching out of the living room and further into the house. “You can stay here for the night or whatever. But don’t touch anything and get your ass to sleep.”

“Alright, alright…prick.” Freddy mumbles, flopping onto the couch out of exhaustion.

Jesse points at him firmly before ending the conversation with a kind “fuck you” and heading to his bedroom.

████████████████████

[pandoraxharlow]

Blood in the Water // self para

He stalked her movements closely since his release, the precinct and the self-proclaimed murder house in Greenpoint, then losing her briefly as she visited Davenport on her way to see Eleanor Cabello, and waiting for the evening to settle to darkness before making his own move. Jason knew Pandora like the back of his own fucking hand, knew she was oftentimes a night owl staying up late as the party girl she was now no longer pretending to be. He should’ve left well enough alone, especially after his little beat down session with Detective Monaghan left him nearly out of commission, but if anyone were to blame for Derek’s misconduct, it was her. The liar, the skank, his one true obsession.

It was easy jimmying the front door of her apartment open, picking locks a skill he remembered teaching her at one point, just as Pandora yanked out the headphones in her ears from the safety of her bedroom, blissfully unaware what danger now lurked in the place that should have been safe. Wrapping the wire around her phone and placing it on the nightstand, Pan made the journey across the room and opened the door with the intention of grabbing herself something to drink before retiring for the night. Jason had only been in the living room for less than a few minutes, but in that time, he made himself out to be a welcomed guest. Something Pan should have expected from him even when she didn’t expect his presence the minute she stepped through the doorframe. “Jason.”

Jesus, his face looked like it’d been struck by a semi truck and then fucked by a train. Jason’s penchant for getting into fist fights on the daily were of little shock value, sometimes that rage and violent thirst turned onto her rather than a drunken stranger at the bar, so she knew the bruises and torn lip all too well. Something told Pan he shared the same thoughts as he raised a hand and pointed his index finger at his purple face. His nose was smashed, the left eye swelling profusely, nothing of which phased Jason in the least. “Hi, Panny. You admiring what he so generously gave me?” He took a few slow predatory steps closer, eyeing the girl in her delicious pajamas, gaze hovering over her midriff and spotting the sports bra barely peeking from the top of her buttoned shirt. Cute. “I know what you did, Pandora. You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

“You gave me no choice, asshole.” Pan moved backwards little by little, hoping he wouldn’t notice as she inched toward the only route of escape at her disposal. “You really think I was going to let you wrap your hand around my throat without going to one of the only people who could fuck you up? When you were going to kill me?” She heard the sound of a deep chuckle emanate past his lips, the same laugh she heard when he was on the verge of doing something incredibly dangerous. It was a sound that used to thrill her, exhilarate her, but now wrapped a dark tendril around her stomach and pulled tightly with dread.

“I wasn’t planning on killing you back then, Panny.” Her and Jason shared a long hard stare that could have lasted an hour, that glint in his eye shining brighter than any. And Pandora knew, she knew then that he wasn’t planning on leaving this apartment with her still breathing. “But I am now.”

Pan’s senses caught up to her before her feet had, sending the blonde spinning on her heel a second too late as Jason trudged across the room with heavy boots, tangling his fingers through her hair and yanking as hard as his muscles allowed before she even made it into the bedroom. The force knocked a shout past Pandora’s lungs, the unimaginable pain shooting through every inch of her scalp and setting the sensitive nerves aflame. She had to regain the situation, steal back the control, and she couldn’t wait until fight or flight response kicked into the highest of gears. Her strength, though, her physical strength was no match for his and she knew this. Jason provided no opportunity for her to recuperate nor absorb what was happening, utilizing the chance to slam her forehead into the wooden surface of the doorframe. 

The knock to her head sent Pandora nearly stumbling to the ground, vision developing black spots and on the verge of passing out. “You betrayed me, Pandora.” She heard him say from a distance, though, that could have been her mind at the precipice of losing consciousness. Pan was left little decision but in that moment but to crawl on her hands and knees. The phone was only feet away, one call and this would be over. But Jason wasn’t allowing her off that easily. His steps grew closer and the same scorching sensation riddling her head seconds ago developed once again as the man’s nails scraped the flesh when he grabbed her hair again. “Did you actually think you could screw me over without suffering the consequences?” He spat, miraculously lifting Pandora to her feet as he dragged her towards the bed in spite of her feeble protests. “Bad girls deserve punishments, baby.” Jason flung her onto the bed, wasting no time climbing on top of her and pinning Pan’s back to the queen sized mattress with ferocity before his digits worked on loosening the button of his jeans, “And bad girls like you-”

“Jason, let go-” Pandora shouted in his face, struggling under his tight grasp. The panic began rolling down her body in waves with the removal of his belt, with each unfastening button and unzipping on his jeans. He would take what he believed belonged to him and then her life would truly be his as he always intended.

“Bad girls,” The man growled as the spiel continued, a hand reaching out to grip her throat as he had during their last conversation before his hands palmed the front of Pan’s shirt hungrily and grasped the seam running down the middle, “The very, very bad girls like you deserve everything that’s coming to them.” Jason moved his grip in opposite directions with as much brutality as a child would unwrapping presents on Christmas day, sending the buttons flying every which way and ripping the fabric to reveal the lingerie underneath. His morsel, his prize.

Is this how I die, Pandora thought to herself, to be reduced to another meaningless fuck and a senseless murder like those statistics? She did nothing to stop him from shredding what is left of her pajama top and her dignity, anticipating wholeheartedly to accept her fate and watch her life waste away. She was dead already, she needed to kill something inside herself to numb the pain that was about to arrive. Pandora thought about her sister, misguided and struggling to maintain a steady relationship but knowing she still loved her no matter what. She thought of Eleanor, spoiled as they come with a secret heart underneath, and she thought of Derek who risked possible disciplinary action by showing her leniency time and again. Would he be the one to find her deceased body? Bring in Jason for her murder or would this be swept under the rug while no one successfully avenges her? Mourn her? The key people in her life spun in flashes over and over again until one thought remained. One person she knew would suffer great devastation at her loss.

Benji. Her best friend, her future lover, her home. She wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t. So she did what she thought needed to be done in that moment...she fought back.

Pandora’s right hand crept underneath the pillow beside her, finger pads feeling the coolness of the gun’s metal before she fumbled for the handle. It was a matter of seconds, really, from when she pulled out the weapon and switched off the safety. The thing is, she never considered the consequences, never really using a gun unless it was for shits and giggles target practice. Despite her religious upbringing, Newford’s specialty practically thrust a gun in her hands the day she learned how to use one. In this moment, however, adrenaline ripped the steering wheel of control from her grasp. 

So, Pan pressed the barrel of the weapon to her ex boyfriend’s chest, braced for the instant kickback, and yanked the trigger.

The loud deafening pop reverberated against the walls of her bedroom, an alarming ringing partially clogging her ears as she watched the shock register on Jason’s face. Out of his own panic, he climbed off of her and stumbled to the carpeted ground at the side of the bed, hand clasping the scarlet red stain growing along the fabric of the white tee shirt he wore. A fatal wound, perhaps bleeding out is an option, but she could not risk his survival. It was her life or his.

She chose hers.

Pandora swung her feet over the side and rose to a standing position, raising the gun in both hands with a fairly shaky clasp with the barrel pointed at his forehead. She saw the fear in his eyes, witnessed the monster slowly drain away and find a replacement in the coward that he was. The psychopath. No amount of prison time or Derek’s saves would change him and help Pan move on with her happiness. He deserved far worse. “Pandora.” She heard her name fall from his lips in a plead for mercy. Useless, worthless, he would always deserve far worse just as he himself promised he’d give her. 

“See you in Hell.” Pandora pulled the trigger for a second time that evening, landing the bullet straight between Jason’s eyes and hearing the loud thud when he finally fell backwards, dead before he even hit the floor. She stood there over him for a few minutes, fingers still gripping the gun as if it were a lifeline and absorbing the reality of what she just did. Resolution, fear, freedom, a mixture of emotions overwhelming her senses. She might have slayed her demons, but this was no fairy tale where the hero princess found her happily ever after. The good guys didn’t win and she lived in a world that threw murderers in a prison cell. Pan glanced downwards at the gun in her palm and released a short sigh, heart racing a mile a minute. What did people do in this situation? Sit and cry? Watch as the blood stained the carpets and the stench of a decomposing body seeped into the woodwork, never to leave again as much as you scrubbed with a disinfectant? It was a murder, but not a crime...right? Self-defense? She didn’t kill with intent, not at first, that’s what she would tell any cop who would listen.

After an extended pause, Pandora walked over to the nightstand where she left her cell phone and lifted the device before dialing the one person who always helped her in her goddamn hour of need. Who knew exactly what to do in this situation and not allow her to fall into the awaiting fate of their failing justice system.

“Derek,” Pan’s voice wavered over the phone as her eyes landed on Jason’s lifeless body before the last statement reached the receiver. 

“I need your help.”

[chocolatecakecas]

Quality Family Time: Baby Jack ficlet

for the bah discord besties<3

In Dean's humble opinion, the week was off to a pretty good start. Sunday, he and Cas took Jack to the library and let him go wild in the children's section, then let him run off his "excitement about literature" in the park, ending with lunch at their favorite diner, which is Dean's humble opinion qualifies as a pretty great Sunday afternoon. And then Sammy and Eileen finished up their hunt earlier than expected, and they even brought back Claire and Kaia as a surprise. Meaning they got to all have a much-needed family dinner, movie night, and catch up with the girls. And they decided to stay for a few days, which meant extra babysitters, which really meant, he and Cas could have their date night this week. And of course it also meant Dean had a few days to just hang out with his family, watch some movies, watch his kids bond, run some stupid errands, cook some big meals. 

Now it was Wednesday, and Dean was spending the day with Eileen and Jack, while the others opted to help Sam with the supply run. Eileen was getting a movie queued up for Jack's nap, while Dean got a start on some laundry.  

(read the rest under the cut)

He was currently running out to the garage to grab the blanket he keeps folded in Baby's trunk, smiling fondly at the memory of Monday's date night.  

So yeah as far as Wednesdays go, Dean was having a pretty good one.

At least, he was.

Dean's stomach dropped as he flicked the lights on, barely registering the clang of his keys hitting the floor, standing frozen in the doorway.  

He's hallucinating, he must be. There's absolutely no way that-

He squeezed his eyes shut, counting to ten while he tried to will away the hallucination with his mind. But unfortunately for Dean, he didn't have that kind of mind power, because that thing was still sitting there when he opened his eyes.

Fuck.

Forcing his feet to move, Dean stepped further into the garage, reaching out a shaking hand as he inched forward. 

He'll just touch it and his hand will go through it, and he can blame this hallucination on that questionable burger he ate at some local joint they all went to last night. It'll be fi-

Dean's blood turned to ice as his hand connected with cool metal. He quickly jumped back in shock, jaw hitting the floor.

Because last time he checked, Dean didn't leave an 18 foot long Lightning McQueen sitting in his beloved Baby's parking spot. 

He tried to speak but all that came out was an incoherent squeak, as he raced around the car inspecting every inch of it.

He couldn't get any of the doors open or the hood for that matter, but as far as he could tell it seemed to be a real car, despite being a cartoon look-a-like. 

Well, at least it wasn't talking. 

"Ka-chow"

Dean slumped over onto the roof of the car, banging his head, fists following in defeat.

Because there was a Lightning McQueen look-a-like with a toy voice box, parked in the garage of their super top-secret underground Bunker, in place of one of his most prized possessions. 

Maybe he spoke too soon about having a pretty good Wednesday. 

Why is this happening? How did this thing get in here? Where is his Baby? Is she alright? Can he even get her back? How the hell did this ev-

Son of a bitch. 

"Jack!" Dean called, voice coming out more strangled than he'd care to admit. 

Of course. Cars had become Jack's new obsession over the past week, they first watched it on Friday night and he's insisted on watching it at least once a day ever since. 

Dean groaned scrubbing his hands down his face. There's truly never a dull moment with a half-Nephilim toddler. 

Jack probably didn't even realize what happened. Sometimes his powers react before his mind can catch up with them, like when he subconsciously made all of his toys come to life after Toy Story became his favorite movie. The kid probably didn't even know about the Cars wannabe parked in the garage, besides his kid would never tamper with Bab-

"Dee! You found Lightning!" 

Dean's jaw once again found its way back down to the floor. His own kid.

He turned to see his four-year-old come bounding into the garage, practically bursting with joy.

"What the hell"

Dean tore his gaze away from Jack to see Eileen frozen in the doorway, who's jaw also joined Dean's on the floor. 

"Look see it's just like Lightning, Dee!" Jack cheered as he ran over to check out the car, regaining Dean's attention.

"Uh...ye-yeah buddy. I-I can see that bu-" Dean began sounding pained, only to be cut off by Jack.

"It's a real car, Dee. You can drive it! And look I gots all the stickers on it too"

"Yeah kiddo, bu-"

"And it can talk too! It says all of Lightning's things! Do you like it Dee? Where you surprised?" Jack asked as he wrapped himself around Dean's legs, smiling up at him without a care in the world.

Dean still mostly in shock, glanced up at Eileen who looked to be in the same boat, except she was holding back barely contained laughter. 

Great no help from his best friend, traitor. So Dean shakily knelt down placing his hands on Jack's shoulders.

"Listen, Squirt. I was definitely surprised. But yo-"

"Oh my god"

Dean's head jerked up to see Sam, Cas, Claire, and Kaia now standing with Eileen in the doorway, dropped grocery bags spilling out onto the floor. All of them too stunned to move, except for Cas who luckily must have noticed the distress in Dean's eyes.

"Jack, Baby. What is this?" Cas asked, quickly making his way over to them, quickly kneeling down beside Dean.

"I made Baby into Lightning! Ta da!"

"Wait, that thing is my Baby?" Dean asked voice cracking. 

And of course, that's what did it.

Sam doubled over in laughter, Eileen, Claire, and Kaia quickly following, and Cas was beside him, clearly trying to conceal his laughter.

"God this is the best thing I've ever seen" Sam wheezed in the background, and if Dean weren't still reeling he'd walk right over and punch him. 

Cas placed a grounding hand on Dean's shoulder, all while trying to bite back his smile. Well, Dean appreciated the gesture, at least he was trying to be considerate, unlike some people he knew.

"Bug, do you remember what Daddy and I told you about using your powers?" Cas begins, trying and failing to sound stern.

"That I can't make my toys be alive! And I didn't Baby isn't alive, and she's not even a toy!" Jack explains with a smile. 

"Yea-yeah Squirt, but the second part of that little talk was that you shouldn't use your powers unless you ask Daddy, or me, or Uncle Sammy or Aunt Eileen, remember?" Dean supplied after he finally got his gears spinning again.

"Ooooohhh. Oops, sorry!"Jack shrugs and he even had half a mind to at least look a little bit sorry, but it's drowned out by another fresh wave of laughter.

"I'm so glad we decided to stay longer, does stuff like this happen all the time?" Kaia laughed behind him, as Claire wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Oh I'm so glad my distress is amusing to all of you!" Dean shot back, voice still a little unsteady, which only caused them to laugh harder. Cas met his eyes, as he squeezed his shoulder, scooting closer.

"Squirt it's okay, just uh don't do it again....now where exactly is the real Baby?" Dean asked cutting right to the chase, not missing the look Cas gave him for glossing over the whole "don't use your powers without asking" lesson.

But there was time for that later, because right now his Baby was currently a firetruck red cartoon racecar with eyes.

"That is Baby. I just made her look like that, it's her. See!" Jack explained jumping up and dragging Dean over. Everyone else followed suit, Sam giving him a shit eating grin as he handed Dean the discarded keys.

To Dean's surprise, the key unlocked the car just like baby, and the interior looked exactly the same.

"Wow kid, this is honestly pretty cool" Claire complimented with a low whistle, which earned her a death glare from Dean, only making her laugh harder.

Unbelievable. All of his kids have it out for his car today.

Dean heaved a sigh as he watched his family examine every inch of the car, not bothering to hold back their laughter at this point.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we didn't watch How to Train Your Dragon" Cas quipped wrapping Dean in his arms as he pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Dean flopped over and laid his forehead on Cas's shoulder, letting a soft laugh escape.

"Yeah well, at least my car wouldn't have been caught in the crossfire" Dean groaned back, feeling Cas' laugh rumble in his chest.

"Yes I know this is a tragedy, clearly the real live dragons would have caused less damage-well less emotional damage anyway"

"Woah, look at that, he's got jokes. Alright everyone step away from the racecar" Dean smirked, yelling that last bit as he pushed away from Cas' chest. He made his way over to Jack who was currently in the driver's seat (keys nowhere near the ignition of course), showing everyone how the horn says McQueen catchphrases now.

"Alright Houdini, while the Lightning McQueen trick was very cool, and we've reminded you that we don't use powers unless we ask. It's time to turn him back into Baby, capiche?" Dean said in the most no-nonsense tone he could manage as he kneelt down to Jack's level.

And of course Dean's very logical, very simple, very warranted request resulted in an uproar from his family.

"Wait you aren't even gonna take it for a spin?"

"You've literally got thee Lightning McQueen sitting in your garage"

"Dean c'mon one dri-"

"Nope. Not happening. Now way am I driving that thing" Dean cut in, flinging his arms out for emphasis and effectively silencing the traitor-his family.

Then he felt a little tug on his shirt.

"Please Dee? One time, then I change Baby back?" Jack asked with his best puppy dog eyes, and Dean quickly made a mental note to kick Sam's ass for teaching him that.

And as he slowly tilted his head back up, he was met with four pleading faces, all hovering around the car He desperately turned his gaze towards Cas knowing he'd be the voice of reason, he'd neve-

"Well, it would be a waste not to take the car for at least one ride" Cas shrugged almost sheepishly, barely hiding his grin. Dean stared back into his eyes trying to will him to change his mind, but he knew it was pointless.

Dean sighed his defeat, running a hand down his face. Damnit

"Fine, one drive-and I mean one. Twenty minutes tops" He shouted, throwing his hands in air in exasperation as everyone cheered.

And when Dean found himself driving back to the bunker four hours later, he and failed tried to hid his smile. He glanced in the mirror at Claire and Jack passed out, while Kaia and Sam held a whispered conversation in the magically (which Jack may or may not have had a hand in) stretched out backseat. Eileen turned in the front seat joining the conversation, as Cas sat in the middle, pressed up against Dean.

Cas gave his hand a squeezing, shooting him a knowing smile, which only earned a nudge from Dean.

So yeah, maybe Dean did almost have a heart attack earlier in the day. And maybe he did have to let a bunch of annoying people in the next town over pose for pictures with the car when they stopped for dinner. And maybe the horn said "Ka-chow" and "I am speed". And maybe the drive was more than twenty minutes. But in Dean's humble opinion, it was still a pretty good Wednesday after all.

Lightning McQueen be damned.

Tag list pt 1:

@wormstacheangel @smiledean @chaoticdean @midnightwings-deancas @jellydeans @sunshine-jack @archervale @wikiangela @subbydean @organicpurplepants @you-cant-spell-subtext-without

@tkdwolf2012 @doemons-blog @rolling-stoned-girl @skylerkernaghan @icefire149 @dakiaty @seffersonjtarship @angeltiddies @feraldean @teamfreebees @keshetcas @jewishdeanwinchester @martymar1963 @midnight-sparks-studio @aestheticflyer26

@athenixrose @slipper007 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @winchester-novak @lyonessrampant @thiscowboyisbisexual @carverera @milfcodeddean @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

psa: trent ikithon is not as competent and powerful as he makes himself seem.

(cw: discussion of abuse)

.

.

i'm not sure how to get into this in a way that's natural, so i hope you don't mind if i go for the straightforward route.

trent ikithon is an abuser. that means his tactics all center around—and rely upon—making vulnerable people believe that he has far more power than he actually does. and when it comes to our pov, the m9's pov, ikithon is trying his damnedest to accomplish the same.

now, i don't know everything that's in matt mercer's head when he has played or characterized trent ikithon. i'm sure there's some depth to his motivations and intelligence, and i don't doubt that ikithon ideologically believes in strengthening the empire. but this is not relevant to the abuse tactics i want to discuss.

because the reality is this: abusers do what they do because they enjoy victimizing and controlling the vulnerable.

that's why you get abusers like archivist zeenoth who are attracted to positions of authority. those positions facilitate structural imbalances of power between them and their potential victims. trent ikithon, too, is doing the same thing—as an archmage of the cerberus assembly, he is exploiting the authority of his position to gain victims for abusing. he is not doing what he does because he's a brilliant mastermind focused on a goal. if he was, he wouldn't abuse his students.

think about it in terms of effectiveness. no matter what people like ikithon try to assert, his volstrucker are not in any way stronger or more capable from his 'tutelage'. caduceus clay roasted the man in his own dining room for this lie. what the volstrucker are are an organization of ruthless, skilled spies built from deeply abused and damaged people. they aren't healthy; they aren't stable. caleb widogast spent eleven years in a sanatorium because he was one of many recruits who broke under the abuse (see EGtW), and then five years as a solitary, paranoia-ridden mess in a filthy coat. he spent months trying not to self-sabotage his growing friendships and had a panic attack as soon as he left ophelia mardun's mansion in shadycreek (e27, 2:55:21). he has ptsd from using fire magic to burn people to death—considering his statement on executing traitors to the empire as a trainee (e18, 2:48:12), it was probably an everyday part of the job.

even the minority of volstrucker that do get through the training stage aren’t functioning well. only a few episodes ago, we watched astrid finish a conversation with caleb and then duck into an alleyway so she could curl up and have a five-minute breakdown before putting the composed mask back on (e126, 1:50:47). abuse makes being alive harder; good luck being a sustainable espionage program at that point.

so that's one lie. how about another?

at the dinner in ikithon's tower, ikithon implied that he has guided every step of caleb's path to recovery and ever-growing power. that caleb's plans to murder ikithon are exactly what he wants; that he even arranged his escape from the vergessen sanatorium (e110, 2:52:58).

i think enough people have recognized that ikithon's first claim is utter bullshit, considering that caleb and the m9 had just arrived from a random island on which they hosted a cult gathering festooned with phalluses. but the implication that he arranged for caleb's escape from the sanatorium was just that: an implication. he never says outright that he did so. he only couched what he knew in gaslighting platitudes and handed over the holy symbol of the cleric that healed him. you won't sense a lie that hasn't been spoken. he let caleb and the m9 make their assumptions, and the assumption worked in his favor.

let's consider the actual circumstances of caleb's escape (e18, beginning 2:51:54). a fellow inmate of the sanatorium who was a cleric suddenly grabbed him and healed him of his madness before returning to her own ravings. caleb then pretended he was still insane for two weeks before killing a guard, stealing the amulet that kept him hidden, and fleeing. how would any of these events work in trent ikithon's favor? the number of absurd assumptions here are off the charts.

first, you would have to believe that a cleric could permanently heal a man who'd been insane and probably experimented on for eleven years.

second, you would have to assume that this man would still be competent enough to pass general scrutiny and break out.

third, you would have to believe that he'd totally survive on his own without any resources whatsoever,

after eleven years of being institutionalized,

while first beginning deep in the pearlbow wilderness—

all without raising the suspicion of this apparently still hypercompetent ex-patient that his escape was too easy.

and fourth, you would have to believe that this man would actually accomplish something in your interests instead of, say, dying or remaining a vagrant beggar forever.

if this was all on purpose, then trent ikithon is really an idiot.

another truth: caleb was not special. both liam and caleb have said so (talks for e88, beginning 28:00; & e110, 29:06), with the examples of other volstrucker supporting this. all of them are talented mages and good at spycraft! they have to be to graduate in the first place! ikithon's assertions that caleb was extra special (e110, 2:52:11)? also a lie—specifically, a great tactic for convincing a victim of abuse not to think about it further. of course they're being hurt again. of course they're being targeted again. not to mention how abusers selectively compliment in order to confuse the people they’re hurting (relevant here: e88, 3:28:25). caleb having an unhealthy amount of hubris and thus open to being diagnosed with protagonist disease doesn’t help.

ikithon would have easily deduced the details of what happened and obtained the holy symbol after an investigation of the break-out. not too hard to piece things together if you simply ask about unusual events prior to the escape and learn that he'd had an altercation with another patient two weeks ago—and oh yes, that patient used to be a blasphemous cleric.

caleb widogast basically reappeared next door healthier, much more powerful, and more capable than ever. ikithon doesn’t have control over caleb’s entire past and future—but he wants him to believe he does. it’s a gaslighting attempt to make caleb question his own accomplishments and attribute them to ikithon so that ikithon can regain some control over his ex-student.

another truth: trent ikithon is already on thin fucking ice. no one in the cerberus assembly likes each other, of course, but a consistent point was made again and again that everyone deeply dislikes ikithon. he's stayed because he made himself useful, but he could and would get taken care of should he be a detriment instead (see e88, 3:19:27; & e97, 3:19:32).

any sort of thorough investigation into the volstrucker and the vergessen sanatorium would reveal exactly how fragile all of his agents are and how frequently he fails in conditioning his recruits. ikithon gets the pick of the crop when it comes to nationalistic, talented students that enter the soltryce academy. to find out that he drives a significant number of them insane? well, that's a pure waste of unrealized potential. and for what—a program of spies who are paranoid enough and opportunistic enough to turn on each other if prodded the right way?

and now... trent ikithon, as part of the traitorous beacon research, has been under heavy investigation from two fronts: the augen trust and the cobalt soul (e125, 2:31:10). and he has been getting very nervous recently (e125, 2:41:42).

the final truth i want to point out: trent ikithon is just as control-obsessed as any other abuser. we got the most obvious example of this yet from e128—his pursuit of the m9 to nicodranas and tidepeak tower. think about the circumstances again.

he was apparently so curious and so annoyed by caleb rebuffing all of his attempts at ‘conversation’ that he made his excuses before teleporting directly to nicodranas,

through a circle implied to be arranged diplomatically between the empire and the clovis concord,

with a plan to break into the lavish chateau, one of the most high-profile locations of the city, to potentially kidnap or kill everyone,

including the famous and beloved ruby of the sea.

he then chased the m9 and their families to the equally high-profile tidepeak tower on the open quay, all of which is owned by yussa errenis, an archmage himself who’s learned far more about local politics than he ever wanted to know,

intimidated his “man”servant,

and broke in.

and they did all of this possibly with some very confused members of the zhelezo following right behind them.

other people have gone through the potential political consequences of this more thoroughly than me, so suffice to say that trent ikithon has gotten himself into some deep shit. you can’t negotiate or magic yourself out of being witnessed by hundreds of people breaking into the tower of an archmage who is infamous among the locals for being a bitchy recluse.

if he was smart, and clever, and a brilliant mastermind, he wouldn’t have done any of that. what he could have done: continue to handle caleb from an ominous distance through spells like sending. allege to the cerberus assembly and king dwendal that the break-in was an underhanded cobalt soul mission because of beauregard’s association with the m9. or just straight-up say that the m9 broke into his facilities because they have a vendetta against him and have them at least investigated the next time the empire can hold onto them for a second.

but he didn’t do any of those much more clever possibilities. he acted impulsively and rashly and may well be on the way to a lot of trouble now. all because ikithon just could not handle caleb being saucy.

with all this in mind, i want to go back to one last detail: astrid and eadwulf. because these two would suffer terrible consequences if they ran away—allegedly.

because i want to ask... what exactly could ikithon do to them?

they’ve already killed their own parents. so far, we’ve had no sign either that they have anyone else important to them in his reach besides each other. they have nothing tying themselves to him besides years of abuse and the crimes they’ve committed as volstrucker. they might want some power of their own, sure, perhaps they want to kill him while they’re still close. but we certainly know that eadwulf and astrid are not invested in the volstruckers as it stands. they doubt ikithon. and they already have their own amulets.

so what else could make them so terrified by the idea of leaving with the m9 except the way that trent ikithon has abused them and convinced them that he’s powerful enough and capable enough to catch up to them?

don’t be fooled. he hosted the most embarrassing excuse for a dining-with-the-enemy scene (seriously, i hope someone reading this cringed the entire time as well from all the long pauses and terrible topic transitions) and then teleported away to flee caduceus clay’s scalding tea. no retort, no blackmail. he acted recklessly in nicodranas and appropriately pushed two of his own volstrucker to betray him, losing his one opportunity to capture the m9′s family there. and now ikithon is between a rock and a hard place in terms of political standing, with a spy network he has openly encouraged to turn against him.

there is no terror waiting in the wings anymore, no more strings he can pull. just an abuser playing up his own grandeur. at this point, the only thing he hasn’t reached his limit in yet is his high-level spell slots.

[deltas-writing-corner]

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Warnings: Implications of noncon | abusive behavior | unhealthy obsession | death | slight gore | Please ask to tag additional content warnings that I have failed to disclose

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand. 

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are. 

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day. 

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation. 

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human. 

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation. 

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable. 

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?” 

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place… 

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night. 

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness- 

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then. 

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet. 

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely. 

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts. 

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down. 

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated. 

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior. 

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated. 

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

[sluttbuttsstuff]

For the prompts, 49 with doppio? >:3 Idk what it is about him I just look at him and think “oh you’re NEEDY needy, huh?”. Thank you so much, you’re a really good writer! :)

No problem buddy, thanks for the request! >:3

Warnings: not sfw, dubcon/noncon, abduction, dark themes, yandere, etc.

Also, my requests are still open, if anyone else is interested!

Enjoy!

Yandere prompt with Doppio, “You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” afab reader, dub/non con

All you wanted to do now was go home. You had had a long week at work, your parents were nagging you again, and to make things worse you had a headache that would not go away. After an exhausting day that began before the sun was out, and ended after the sun had set, you certainly deserved to do nothing more than go home, eat some junk food in your comfy pjs, listen to a podcast while you took a bath and pampered yourself, and maybe jerk off before bed. Unfortunately, you had a “girls night” tonight.

Your friends (your IRL friends at least) complained that you never went out with them anymore (nevermind that whenever you suggested doing something with them, or wanted to chat or text on the phone they were busy) and had forced you to go clubbing with them to celebrate the three-day weekend ahead. You weren’t much of a drinker, and really weren’t much of a dancer, so you had been given the purses to hold while you waited for them to be ready to go home.

You wrinkled your nose in frustration, glaring into the blurry screen of your phone looking at the late time: this was unfair. You were a hard worker, kind to a fault to those around you, and you deserved better than this. Sitting in a corner of a crowded club, everyone in the place having a great time except for you, tired and alone. At least in your apartment, you chose to be there, and at least no one actively ignored you: places like this just pointed out the flaws you hated about yourself more: you were bad with people, and easy to ignore.

Once one of your “friends” stumbled over to the group’s table, you left them with everyone's purse, mumbling you were going to the bathroom (you didn’t know if she heard you and you didn’t care) and left before anyone could stop you. You stumbled your way to the restroom in heels way too high for you to walk in, trying to clean yourself up and find a quiet place to text your goodbyes so your friends wouldn’t worry about your sudden disappearance. Leaning over the sink counter, you wiped a makeup smear off the corner of your lips, noticing a second too late someone behind you.

“Hey, there’s another sink-” You began to say to the blurred figure way too close to you, before a sudden eruption of pain hit the side of your head, and you were out in a flash…

The next time you regained consciousness was several hours later, but it was still dark when you opened your eyes, trying to remember what happened and where in the world you were. The stale cigarette smell, the unreasonably cold ac, the bedsheets starched so strongly that the sheets felt like plastic- this was definitely a motel. But where, and how long had you been here? As you began to sit up, you heard a surprised, timid voice.

“Oh, thank goodness! You’re awake, I was beginning to worry about you! Hold on, don’t move so suddenly, i’ll help you sit up.

Sure enough, as you started moving, your head lit up with painful throbbing that made last night’s headache seem like nothing in comparison. You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes shut, trying not to groan in pain.

“What the hell happened to me last night?” you grunted through your teeth, rubbing your temple as gentle hands helped slowly sit you up propped against cushions.

“Haha, you had a lot of bad luck last night, running into my boss. He was waiting for...an employee in the restroom and thought you were sent after him. He’s a bit paranoid, and he may have...accidentally clobbered you.” The voice apologized, gentle as he handed you what felt like a glass of water.

You forced yourself to open your eyes; it was still dark, but you could tell it wasn’t because of the time of day but rather a lack of light and closed curtains. You looked at..you looked at the person in front of you. Like whoever had attacked you last night, they had long pink hair, braided and side parted. Their eyes were green and wide, and they looked particularly juvenile with a crop top and freckles. They were on the smaller side, perhaps even shorter than you (hard to tell from while on the bed) and their eyes were crinkled in apprehension, like he was afraid you were going to hurt him.

“Erm, don’t worry though, I talked him out of doing anything too..extreme, after all I'm his right hand man! Besides, you seem like a perfectly nice person, I'd hate to see anything bad happen to you. Sorry, I'm rambling! Umm, do you want something for your headache? You were groaning in your sleep, I'm sure it doesn’t feel so good right now-” He went on and on, pulling out some painkillers to take with your water.

After thanking him, you were about to swallow the pill before pausing, looking at the strange man who’d taken you to a remote hotel after his boss had nearly killed you. Sensing your suspicion, doppio exclaimed, “Oh, don’t worry, they’re safe, name brand painkillers! Um, hold on, lemme just-” And he made a show of popping some of the pills you were holding into his mouth and swallowing, sticking out his tongue and opening his mouth to show you he’d ingested it.

Satisfied, and more importantly in a lot of pain, you took some of the pills yourself, much to the relief of the pink haired man.

“Oh good, thank you for doing that! I was so worried watching you asleep, you’ll feel much better now! By the way, my name’s Doppio, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Oh! And I know your name’s y/n because you had your purse and ID on you! Haha, sorry for going through your purse, I was just hoping to find any info on you that might be, you know, important.” he sat on the bed, scooching closer and closer to you.

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say, and the watchful eyes of Doppio doing nothing to make you feel better.

“Well, um, thank you, Doppio. I appreciate you, um, saving me? Sorry for any inconvenience, I'll just, um-” You try to get up to leave, only for Doppio to place a hand over your leg.

“Don’t go! What, I mean, what if you hurt yourself? You probably have a concussion, and also you haven’t had breakfast? We could eat together and-” Doppio stammered, grabbing your hand and stroking it with his sweaty, cold fingers.

You had to stop him, before things got out of hand.

“Thank you, Doppio, it really was very sweet of you to take such good care of me, but I-”

“Please! You don’t understand, I mean-” Doppio fumbled with his words, clearly trying to make you stay at all costs.

“Doppio, i can’t stay here forever, i need to go home. My friends are probably worried about me by now.” You tried to press on, you didn’t want to upset the man with a powerful boss, but you felt increasingly claustrophobic with Doppio pawing at you.

“You mean those mean girls who left you with their purses all night? Why would you care about what they-” Doppio covered his mouth with both hands quickly, realizing what he just said.

Your blood ran ice cold; how did he know so much about them? Had he been watching you before the “incident”

Using his moment of weakness, you got up from the bed and tried to reach the door; it was time for you to go home, if not call the cops.

Doppio yelped, Throwing himself in front of the door before you could make your escape.

“Please, don’t be scared y/n! I didn’t mean to upset you, I only meant that I can treat you much better than your friends can. I mean, look at how good I've been for you so far?? I didn’t make you dance with me at the club, even though I really wanted to. I didn’t just have my fun against your will in the bathroom stall like the boss told me to do.I saved you from a concussion, or worse! I got you your own hotel room for the night, and didn’t take advantage of you or touch you while you were asleep! I want our first time to be special, after all! Isn’t that what you want?” Doppio pleaded, eyes wild as he tried to smile, trying to calm you.

You were anything but calm however, this guy was clearly obsessed with you, and had been for longer than just one night. Even if at first he had merely seemed like a pathetic “nice guy” you no longer had any pity or time to give him.

“Doppio, get away from the door and let me leave, now.” you demanded in your best authoritative voice. Doppio whimpered, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, you were supposed to love him!

“You can’t! Boss and I won’t let you!” He cried, covering the door with his body. With no other choice, you slid out of your shoes and charged at him full speed. You managed to give him a good blow on the head, and threw him out of the way of the door. He cried, crumpled on the ground. If not for the fact that he had kidnapped you, you might have felt bad for hurting him like this, but you had to think of yourself at this moment.

As you finally unlock and pull open the door, heading towards freedom, you hear the strangest noise behind you.

“RingRingRingRingRing!” Doppio calls after you, in an unnatural, high pitched tone. You try to ignore it, you literally don’t have time for this, but with strength he had not previously displayed, Doppio grabs one of your arms, twisting it behind your back and up to his ear, holding it like a telephone.

There’s a trickle of blood, and one of his eyes is rolled back in its socket, but he calmly says, “Hello, this is Doppio,” Into your hand, as if he was having a normal conversation on the phone.

You scream out, doubled over by the pain in your arm, Doppio silent as he “listens” to his “Phonecall” oblivious to your suffering. Where did all this power come from? He was acting like an entirely different person, and frankly scaring you. Doppio nodded, pulling your hand closer into his ear and intently listening to nothing but air before “Hanging up and pulling you back into the motel room.

He threw you on the bed ( his arms felt much stronger, and more muscular for some reason) before crawling on top of you and pinning you down. You were too stunned, and frankly too scared, to come up with any means of escape, just weakly struggling to throw him off of you to no avail.

“Doppio, please-” You whispered, eyes blurry with tears.

“I talked to the boss, and he helped me figure out what to do. He wants our relationship to succeed after all!” Doppio exclaimed, additude reverted to how he’d first spoken to you. You were confused, you’d neither seen nor heard anyone in or around the room, who was he talking to and how?

“Boss told me that people like you need some discipline in order to be obedient, or you’ll walk all over me. If I can do that, then I can make you love me, and we’ll be happy together, isn’t that what you want?” Doppio told you, stroking your cheek.

“This is not okay, Doppio!” you yell, thrashing against both arms, “Let me go or i’ll-”

...

Wait a minute, both arms?

Then how was he…?

You look over to one side in shock, only to see a floating metallic and red arm holding you down, one on either side. You screamed, overwhelmed by a stalker and strange supernatural forces you couldn’t understand.

“Oh, you can see King Crimson's arms? Interesting, perhaps because of your near death experience with Boss, you can see stands now? Although, it would be bad if you developed a stand, what to do?...” Doppio pondered to himself, speaking apparent babble.

You cried, trying to wake up from this obvious nightmare with no luck.

“Awww, hey y/n, it’s okay, i’m not gonna hurt you! Not if you be good for me and Boss.” Doppio cooed, kissing your cheeks and forehead. “I talked boss into keeping you with us- you’re always so lonely at home, and never have a good time with others, right? You don’t have to lie anymore, I've been watching you for a while. Nobody else seems to, though, they’re too self-absorbed and stupid to realize how incredible you are!” He continued, oblivious to his words not helping, but hurting you.

“You’re perfect for me and boss, we can take really good care of you. Forget this lousy motel, we have mansions and villas all over Italy that we can take holidays to. We have billions of Lira from work, you’ll never have to lift another finger and we’ll pamper you to death. And best of all? You’ll never have to see your awful friends or family again! Isn’t it awful how they treat you? We can get rid of them, so they can’t hurt you!” He finishes, grinning ear to ear, but his eyes hollow and lifeless, staring unblinkingly into yours.

This guy was sick, there was no other word to it. You might have had issues with your family, and yeah your friends could be assholes sometimes, but you didn’t want them killed! What good would that do you, or anyone for that matter?!

Doppio seemed to read your thoughts, “Look, I know it's a lot to take in at once, but trust me. Boss and I have planned this out for a while now, and we’re always going to do what’s best for us, ok? So don’t worry so much, and please stop struggling? Boss warned me if you got too unruly he’d take over and finish what he started last night.

A wave of nausea slithered through you as you remembered, thinking how close you were to dying. You gave up, lying limp on the bed, praying for this to end.

Doppio smiled again, this one almost seeming genuine, and gave you the softest kiss to your lips. It was childish, almost, and he clearly lacked experience, but he gained more confidence from your lack of struggling. With the mysterious hands holding you (stands? King crimson?) his own hands were free to touch you. He started With your cheeks, your face, your hair, your neck, stroking you with feather-light touches, his fingers tracing each curve, digit and flaw like he was trying to memorize it all.

“Finally… I finally get to touch you like this… I’ve been waiting for so long, y/n. Do you know how long I've wanted to hold you?” He whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck, cradling your cheek to his. You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to, but Doppio told you anyway.

“I’ve been watching, waiting...for so long. Following you home from work, listening into your calls, finding your online accounts. I’ve known since I first saw you that you were the one for me, and now I get to prove it to you. I get to show you all the things I've been meaning to do to you. You’ll never be lonely again, not with me around. We’ll never be lonely~”

He giggled the last part, giddy with excitement, as he slid his fingers down your ribcage, your sides, fiddling with the bottom of your shirt. You wriggled, trying to fight him off again, only to your dismay Doppio giggled even harder at your reactions-perhaps because he knew you could never overpower him.

“Ohhh~ still so shy? Don’t be so uptight, y/n, you need to live a little! I know how much you want this; you complain about it all the time on your personal blog-” You could feel the blush on your cheeks heating up your face, desperate to make him shut up, “ How you want someone to have their way with you, to make you forget everything else in life. You’re desperate for someone to truly cherish and understand you; mentally and physically. You want me to love you? You want me to fuck you…? Would that make you happy? Would it make you love me?” Doppio rambled on and on, ripping your shirt off with strength he hadn’t had before.

You yelped, goosebumps forming on your skin as Doppio cackled, rubbing his face on your stomach, and into your cleavage poking out from your bra.

“Yes, let go for me! Show me every emotion, everything you’ve been holding back from me for so long- i need it, I demand it!” He snarled, splitting your nicest bra in half, and biting down on your neck, hard.

You screamed, legs kicking uselessly as the pain blurred your mind and you were operating purely on instinct. Doppio didn’t seem bothered in the least by it, you could still feel his laughter against your sore neck, as he sucked down on it, trying to bruise and mark you. His hands couldn’t help but find their way to your breasts, toying with them and squeezing them with admittedly little expertise. But he was a quick learner, making note of each little gasp and twitch according to how he touched you, and improving his technique from there. He twisted your nipples a bit roughly, already hard from the chilly air and sensitive to touch- you couldn’t help but moan a little in satisfaction. It had been awhile.

Doppio’s moans echoed yours, as he kissed his way down the crevice of your breasts, and licked each nipple in turn. You squirmed, not in fear or anger but pleasure, angry at yourself for letting this strange man win your body over so easily. Doppio kept his eyes on you at all times, studying your face to see how you felt. He’d had to watch you for so long from so far away, alone in your bedroom, or so you thought… it was time to use the knowledge he’d gained to make your body crazy for him.

You jumped at Doppio’s hands, cupping your groin through your pants, trying not to buck into his hands . It was getting harder and harder to deny him, though, why couldn’t you just-?

Doppio pulled your pants down to your ankles, taking your panties with it. He groaned audibly at the sight- your pussy was so wet and dripping, there was still a trail connected to your underwear.

“No, don’t-” You cried, snapping your legs shut, visibly scared at what was taking place again. Doppio was losing patience, crouching down and prying your legs open,

“Stop fighting me, y/n, you clearly want this!” He cried, eye twitching in annoyance. He managed to open your legs again, and buried his face into your pussy. He moaned, licking up a wet stripe against your labia, warm and puffy and so wet for him- he knew you would be, he knew you loved him.

Tears streaked down the sides of your face, this was so much and so intense. Your thighs clamped down on Doppio’s cheeks and neck, squeezing him as hard as you could. Not hard enough, apparently, as he just started giggling again through a full mouth and busy tongue “Ssho good, y/n, why have you been hiding thissh from mee~?” he moaned, tongue circling your clit. You flung your head back into the pillow, gripping the mysterious hands that held you for any source of strength or comfort.

Watching you whimper so pitifully with his head between your legs, obviously blissed out after being so needy and alone for so long, just did things to doppio. He loved the pained, fucked out expression on your face- you couldn’t even keep your eyes open as he snuck one, two fingers into your aching pussy. You whimpered so cutely, and it was all for him and him alone. Finally~

“Y/n, please, i can only hold back for so long, let me make sure it’s not painful… be good for me, please?” Doppio begged, grinding his hips into the mattress before he could help himself. Begrudgingly, you moved your thighs back just enough for Doppio to push them away, when he got a wonderful idea. King crimson, or what Boss had lent him of his stand to use, sensed his thought, and grabbed both your hands in one arm. Doppio pushed your thighs back and up, effectively bending your knees into your chest and displaying your pussy in such a beautiful way. You cried out, surprised by the sudden movements and embarrassed by how exposed you were, but there was nothing you could do about it. Doppio was just too strong.

The other free hand floated down, spreading your lips apart to give Doppio a nice view before pummeling two of his thick, strong fingers inside of you. You screamed, crying as the fingers curled directly into your sweet spot, massaging with robotic-like precision and speed. The sounds you were making were wet, animalistic, and you were quickly brought close to the brink.

“Perfect, y/n! Just like that, let yourself go! It makes me happy to see a side of yourself you never show anyone else- and you never will to anyone but me! Remember, I'm the one making you feel this good, right y/n? You couldn’t possibly find anything half as wonderful from anyone else but me! Me, got it?!” Doppio exclaimed, his voice cracking and becoming much darker, scarier. For a second, you could swear he looked like a different person entirely, wild, angry and dangerous- but you blinked and Doppio was just as before.

Doppio licked his lips, sweating and anxious, this was good enough to make you love him, right? This was what he had to do to make you happy? Boss’s words from before appeared in his head though, and he remembered how Boss had always been right before. Doppio trusted him, and was determined to win you over. Doppio let go of one of your legs-you seemed adequately distracted and restrained to get away from him- and unzipped his fly. In truth, he would’ve preferred to get all the way naked with you for the first time, so you could see and feel the real him as well, but clearly the two of you were too desperate and impatient for him to get fully naked. This time.

You whimpered at the sound of a zipper, feeling the fingers pull out of you. You heard the crinkle of a wrapped, and the muffled groan as Doppio probably rolled a condom onto himself, but you were too afraid to look. The strong floating hand, still wet with your juices, gripped your cheek and forced you to look at Doppio, staring you down with much more restraint and calm than he had been. Doppio kissed your cheek, then your lip, and pushed his warm cock achingly slowly, gently, into your waiting pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from moaning, grabbing at the hands that held you, thrusting yourself onto Doppio’s hard and hot cock. He bit his lip, feeling you twitch and squeeze around him; he was trying so hard to be gentle for you, why were you still making things so difficult. He chuckled to himself, and motioned for King Crimson to let you go; finally you were beginning to relax and enjoy yourself, and he wanted to enjoy every bit of it.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around Doppio, holding him close to you. Your mind was a mess, your body even messier, you didn’t know what to think or do about your abducter/rapist fucking you so tenderly, and you were tired of fighting. So you let him fuck you, slowly and gently and way way emotionally. Doppio wiped away new tears you hadn’t realized were there, shushing you, “It’s okay, my sweet y/n. Just relax and let me do the work. Don’t fight it any more, just let go.” He whispered, pressing kisses into your lips and cheeks far too sweetly.

So you did, you relaxed and sank into the mattress, pulling Doppio down with you. He let go of your thighs, and held you tightly to him as he fucked-no, made love to you. He gradually picked up the pace, huffing and whispering words of admiration to you about your body, or how much he adored you. You took it all limply, the fight having gone out of you and desperate for comfort. The floating arms, which you had forgotten about, reappeared and stimulated your nipples and clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Doppio sped up as well, he knew this would have to end, but he wanted to make it last as long as possible. This was your first time together, after all. He wanted to make it special. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer into you. You could feel the spongy head of his dick rub your inside so sweetly, you were starting to get addicted to the feeling. Doppio buried his head into your neck, mumbling nonsense as he pushed in deeper and deeper, faster and faster, as his restraint gave way to passion.

“Y/n I- I don’t know how much longer I can last, but-” He kissed you, as the stroking of your clit sped up. You groaned loudly, you were so close, “Just a bit longer, please~” You begged, biting your lip. Doppio took a deep breath, steeling himself as he was determined to make you come first. He pounded into you, urging you closer and closer, four sets of hands circling your body and drawing out noises and gasps from you out of your control.

“Almost there, please, almost~!!!” You cried, throwing your head back with a final sigh as you came hard and fast, your core heating up and washing over you as Doppio helped you ride it out with clit rubs. Your walls fluttering around him, the face that you made as you came from him, for him, it was too much and he quickly filled his condom inside of you, moaning even louder than you had as he thrust without abandon into your wonderful, most precious place. He didn’t want to stop, thrusting almost to the point of overstimulation, before he had to stop, and collapsed on top of you. He cooed and kissed his praises and thanks into your shoulder and skin, before he noticed the soft sound of you snoring. Poor thing, he chuckled to himself, you’d really worked yourself up.

He reluctantly pulled out, after indulging in 5 minutes of cuddling your sleeping body and listening to your heartbeat. Doppio cleaned the two of you off, and tucked you into the covers of the motel- now would be a good time to set up moving you into your new home. After all, The whole reason you were in the motel is because the moving company Boss had hired to move your things into the main base would take several hours to complete their job, and Boss didn’t want anyone seeing you or Doppio at home. Doppio ruffled your hair as you slept, pulling out his cellphone to check in with Boss and give him the full update he’d requested.

Tonight was going to be very busy.

[shima-draws]

Can you explain SPM to me like I'm 5?

Literally the only thing I actually know about the game is Mr L, Dimentio and Mimi's (I think it's Mimi?) transformation that scarred every child for life.

LOL sure thing! I will try to keep it as short and simple as possible

-Game starts out with Count Bleck (main antagonist) kidnapping Peach, Luigi and Bowser

-Count Bleck forces Peach and Bowser to get married in order to fulfill a prophecy written in the Dark Prognosticus (evil book that is said to grant wishes) and their union creates the Chaos Heart

-Chaos Heart opens a void in the sky that will eventually devour all worlds. The void steadily continues to grow larger throughout the game

-Mario winds up in Flipside (a town between dimensions) and meets Merlon, a wizard, and Tippi, a butterfly pixl (basically, sort of like a fairy) with amnesia that Merlon rescued

-Merlon reveals that Mario is a hero written within the pages of the Light Prognosticus (written to counteract the Dark one) who is destined to save the world by bringing together 8 Pure Hearts to counteract the Chaos Heart

-Tippi is assigned to Mario to act as his guide

-As Mario travels to his first world to gain a Pure Heart, we take a peek into Castle Bleck to find out more about him and his minions:

O'Chunks, a beefy man who's all brawn and no brain, Dimentio, a mischievous magician who has control over dimensions, Mimi, a shapeshifter obsessed with rubees and cute things, and Nastasia, Count Bleck's loyal assistant who has powers of brainwashing (and who also has a thing for him 😳)

-Peach manages to escape Castle Bleck right before she gets brainwashed (we later find out that Dimentio was the one who rescued her), and reunites with Mario

-Merlon tells them both that the Light Prognosticus predicts the union of four heroes who will save the world

-Mario and Peach reunite with Bowser (who had also been ejected from Castle Bleck), who turns out to be the third hero

-Luigi, still in Castle Bleck, is unfortunately not as lucky as Peach and is brainwashed into becoming a new minion working for Bleck, calling himself Mr. L (who Mario fails to recognize even tho it's SUPER obvious? Lmao). Apparently the world’s destruction OR salvation literally hinges on which side Luigi happens to be on (and this is written in both Prognosticus’), so the villains got to him first

-As the story progresses we start to find out more about Bleck and his reasons for ending all worlds. Apparently he'd fallen in love with a human girl, but since he was forbidden to be with her, his father had erased her from all existence, leaving Bleck heartbroken and bitter

-Tippi starts to regain her memories, and we slowly start to find out that she was the human who Bleck was in love with :')

-6 worlds in, Mario and co. arrive in a world that is very close to being consumed by the void. Unfortunately they aren't able to get to the Pure Heart before the void swallows everything there in its entirety

-Going back, the entire world is just white nothingness, and when they find the Pure Heart they realize its lost all its power

-Dimentio corners Mr. L and deadass traps him in a box and blows him up, ending his game. Luigi fucking DIES bro

-Dimentio then goes after Mario and co. next, blowing them up just like Mr. L and sending them all to the Underwhere (basically the Underworld)

-Mario and co. make their way through the Underwhere, reunite with Luigi (who has no memory of being Mr. L, and is revealed to be the final fourth hero) and get Queen Jaydes (queen of the underworld) to revive the dead Pure Heart. Jaydes sends them back to Flipside

-After getting all 8 Pure Hearts, the heroes head straight for Castle Bleck to confront him

-When they encounter Dimentio he reveals he'd been on their side the entire time, manipulating things behind the scenes in order to help them defeat Bleck

-Tippi and Bleck reunite at last...but Bleck tells her it's too late to stop the void from destroying everything. Mario defeats him in battle

-Dimentio shows up and tries to finish Bleck off, but Nastasia takes the blast. Dimentio then reveals he'd been waiting for a chance to steal the Chaos Heart and use it for his own ambitions

-Dimentio snatches Luigi and fuses him and the Chaos Heart together to become Super Dimentio, the real final boss of the game >:)

-Tippi and Bleck's power of Everlasting Love™ counteract the Chaos Heart's power, and they save the day! However the void still continues to grow, so the two of them use the Pure Hearts to destroy the void once and for all. They disappear after this, never to be seen again, but it's implied they are living happily together in another world 🥺

And that's how the game ends!

[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[yandere-sins]

The Fox Wedding - Stay dead [True End]

Summary: You escaped.

Characters: Kitsune!Suna Rintarou, Reader

Rating: Explicit  

Warnings for this chapter: Happy Ending

Death was as calm as you would expect it. Your body - or rather, your soul - felt like it was floating on water, but no wave dared to disturb you. There was no up or down, just the floating, and that was all there was for a while. As if you were in a room painted in black, nothing to see, to hear, to feel. All you knew was that it wasn’t uncomfortable.

The place you were in now wasn’t plagued with the horrors of life. Pain and suffering, fear and anger. There was no regret and no desire for revenge, but even without any feelings at all, it wasn’t boring. Perhaps this was what made death so unique, the absolute nothingness. You couldn’t even feel if you moved a limb or not, and thus, you concluded that this was it. Even after all that happened, without being able to feel anything, it became meaningless.

You were ready.

Who knew where your soul would go now, but you were ready to move on.

It almost felt like you were ascending from the water, ready to leave. Limbo. Going like this wasn’t bad, and your judgment of the situation was meaningless and thus easy for you. But perhaps you actually liked it! What was there not to like about it?

“Death is permanent, Human,” a sudden voice rung out. You didn’t know this was possible in this space. Was that God? Was it true after all, did such an entity exist? “So… come back.”

And at once, it was over.

Grabbed by what felt like fabric on your back, you were pulled backwards into the water, completely engulfed by the wet. You felt it glide over your skin, wet your hair, and try to fill your nostrils and mouth, and your body instinctively knew not to accept it inside of you. You opened your mouth to let it out, but it only filled more, and then, suddenly, you were pulled out of the water.

“Shhh, shhh,” a voice tried to calm you as your body shook violently in a cough. A stranger’s hand helped you to wipe away the water on your eyelids, and he held you up, so it was easier to free your lungs of the water. Even though you blinked a few times, you couldn’t get accustomed to the brightness all around you, but one by one, your senses reappeared.

You could feel the pressures on your body and pinch yourself again, birds chirped all around you. The taste on your mouth was unpleasant as if you had eaten something foul, but luckily it disappeared as time passed. Finally, your eyes started to focus again, the blur disappearing together with your sensitivity to light. You looked up at the tree crowns, rays of sunshine bursting through them as a breeze got caught in the leaves.

“W-Where--” you croaked, only causing you to cough more. Was this heaven? It almost seemed like it since you couldn’t hear anguished screams or the crackling of fire. So it wasn’t hell. Looking down at yourself, you seemed too old to be reincarnated, and you soon enough found yourself out of options of where you were.

“The forest,” the unfamiliar voice explained for you. Finally, you looked up towards the person sitting beside you, blinking a few times as you tried to remember where you had seen him before. His dark brown hair was shining in the sun, and from it, two very peculiar ears seemed to stick out. All of a sudden, you were hit by a flashback.

Gasping loudly, you touched your shoulder, tearing at the white kimono you were wearing and which you had never seen before. But no matter how much you searched, you couldn’t find the wounds that were inflicted on your body. It almost seemed pristine, but you knew it wasn’t.

“There are still some marks,” the stranger said, and you couldn’t help but flinch. Instinctively, you pushed yourself away from him, sliding off his hold and onto the ground, noticing you had been sitting in a spring. It wasn’t deep, but you noticed the bubbling nearby where it continuously flowed out of a crack in a stonewall. You felt too weak to actually move further, but now that you looked around, this part of the forest was even more unfamiliar than any other.

“Where am I?” you asked daunted, a big part of you returning to a state of fear and panic. The stranger sighed as he got up and walked over, seizing you by the armpits and pulling you up. Putting your arm around his neck and steading you with one hand around your hip, he moved forward, urging you to move even though you struggled. The first few steps were a hurdle, but with every continuous one, it got better.

“Why… But I…”

“Yes,” he said. “I won’t deny what happened, but I’m one of the few that knew about this magical spring water. It healed your wounds - almost perfectly even. But I don’t think there’s much more I can do for you.”

“Where are we… going?” you questioned as he led you on a small path through the forest. Everything seemed so… normal. As if it was trying to undermine the cruelty that happened the night before. “You wanted to go home, didn’t you?”

Peeking up at this, you gave the stranger another look over, all the memories slowly coming back. “I remember you,” you mumbled. “You were with Kita when he came to look after me! Why… why would you help me?”

Catching him as he looked away as if he was caught in a lie, there was no immediate answer. Instead, the pace quickened, and you did your best to keep up with his lead. “Not everyone liked the idea of marriage,” he finally spoke up. In the distance, you could see the trees clearing up. The end was finally near.

“Kita is a good leader. We all like him. But he’s been too obsessed with the idea of marrying you ever since he was still only an aspirant for the leader. Many tried to oppose him, coming to the clan to spy, like the twins, but it’s not easy to go against someone so calculated and strong as Kita is.”

He took a deep breath, collecting himself. “I’ve been by his side for a long time, and I don’t regret it. But I couldn’t watch this happening again.”

Again? you thought, but the moment you two finally left the last tree behind, you came to a halt, your attention quickly diverted. You recognized the road that spread out before you, a mere ten minutes walk from your home. Slowly, the fox let go of you, waiting for you to steady yourself on your feet, but it was easy now. “What should I do now? I- I can’t go back to the house! They’ll find me again…”

Your voice was still so fragile, cracking under the pressure of emotions that tried to regain their place in your body. It wasn’t as hard to stand, breathe, or all of it at the same time as it was to get used to feeling again. It was overwhelming, but you knew better than to get lost in emotions this time. After all, you’ve been through much worse before.

“No, they won’t.”

Looking up at the fox, you had noticed him back away into the shadows of the trees as he seemed ready to leave again. It was only a few steps, but it felt like he had made the separation between your worlds clear again. “The clan moved on as Kita couldn’t stay anymore after losing you. I have to go back to them now, but they won’t come looking for you. You are dead to them.”

Nodding slowly, you took a step forward towards him again, his body language showing that he was wary as you approached. “What’s your name?” you asked out of the blue. What a stupid sentiment, but you felt like after what he did, coming all the way back to save you, remembering his name was the least you could do. He looked surprised before his expression grew nervous and hesitant, but eventually, he decided to tell you softly. “Suna. Just… Suna.”

Reaching for his hands, you crossed the barrier between worlds one last time, squeezing them. “Then, thank you, Suna.”

Time was of the essence, and you felt it was running out for you two. When you thanked him, managing to smile softly, it was almost like a stone fell off your heart, freeing you off so many things. He gave a slight nod in your direction before pulling away, and you knew it was time to go. “Farewell,” you sighed, relief spreading through you, and you turned to leave. It would be hard to go back now, remembering all that happened. Certainly, you couldn’t stay in that house for much longer, even if Suna said it was safe now. Too much had happened. Too much that you wanted to forget forever.

Way down the road, you turned around, seeing the silhouette of a small fox sitting on the curb, watching you. As you noticed it, the fox sprang up and disappeared into the woods, and you couldn’t help but be thankful, knowing he had watched over you just in case. Somehow, you’d be alright. It would be hard to manage without anyone who’d ever believe what you’ve been through, but Suna had managed to restore some of your faith in the world. Just marriage. You’d postpone that… for a long while. You definitely had enough of marrying, and maybe you’d move to the city now, just in case.

But as you looked up at the blue sky with the morning sun rising ever so slowly, you felt grateful for this chance you were given. The experience aside, you definitely felt like you had grown from it. Gained some insight into the worth of life.

You were given this second chance, and you were not going to waste it, no matter how hard it would be.

This time, you’d do better.

“You’re such a goody two-shoes,” Atsumu taunted as he approached Suna. The latter only looked back over his shoulder calmly, seeing the twins’ faces slowly creeping up to him. “It’s a shame. I really wanted her for myself.”

Giving Atsumu a nudge with his elbow, Osamu reminded his brother, “She was dead until a few minutes ago. There was nothing for you to get there but worms.”

“And now she isn’t, I wonder how!”

The bickering between the two continued while Suna turned forward again. From the hill he was standing on, he could see you disappear inside your house, locking the doors behind you. You were such a good girl, careful but kind until the end. You didn’t need to thank him, but you did, smiling at him before you left. He, too, had always appreciated the kindness of humans, even if he always had warned Kita to not interact with humans back when the two of them were still small cubs. But no matter how weak, humans could still be kind, a fascinating fact in his eyes.

There was so much you didn’t know, and perhaps, it was better that his world would no longer be part of yours. The intrigues, foul words, magic - that wasn’t for a good human like you. An eternity bound to a being like a Kitsune wasn’t what would make you happy, even if…

“Suna~ What are ya thinking about so hard? Aren’t ya coming with us? Don’t tell me you changed yer mind?” Slinging one arm around Suna’s shoulders, Suna’s train of thought was interrupted, and he sighed deeply. “Idiot,” Osamu grumbled, kicking his brother in the shin. “Have some tact and let the guy make sure she gets home safely. They’re family.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes but let go of Suna, the two walking a few steps ahead as they gave him the time to say goodbye. But they were right; there was no use lingering. Maybe Suna should have told you why you were so interesting for the kitsune. You were a rare sight as a human ancestor, after all. Knowing that you and he shared the same family tree - even if there were hundreds of years and what felt like a couple dozens of generations between you two - he couldn’t have let you die like one of the other darling wives Kita had found over the centuries. Suna had seen it too many times how he ended up hurting them as they hurt him by escaping or angering him, though arguably, the emotional wounds Kita suffered weren’t as bad as the deadly ones he inflicted. Then again, thanks to that, it gave Suna a new reason to live. No more clans or loyalty. He had something much more important now.

Family.

“Do ya think she’ll go to the city? Think I could become a city boy?” Atsumu mused, and Osamu let out a loud snort while Suna turned around to follow the two. “Only thing you’re good for would be a fur coat,” Osamu snarked, and it even brought a chuckle to Suna’s lips as Atsumu gasped loudly. They turned their attention to Suna, slowing down their steps to match him and lowering their voices as they spoke between themselves.

“Are you sure Kita won’t notice? You stole her right from under his nose, after all. He didn’t even bury her yet - luckily,” Atsumu asked, and Suna shrugged. “You don’t know it because you’re young, but the older and stronger a kitsune gets, the more they begin to forget. I’m sure he is very busy looking for a new replacement right now. He never got over this first wife of his. She truly was perfect. Kind, loyal, and loved him.”

Silent glances were exchanged between the twins as Suna revealed some of the past that he witnessed. “Her only fault was her mortality, and I guess that’s why he keeps searching.”

“Ya think he’ll ever find someone?” Osamu asked after a moment of silence. Suna shrugged again. Even he didn’t have the answers to everything.

“Who knows,” he sighed, and those were his final words on the matter. Rubbing his hands gently, he remembered the warmth of your touch, relieved that your life had been spared. All of your lives would go on, even for the younger kitsune. Their life was too long to ponder about the past. All that mattered was the future.

And Suna was glad that the past didn’t take away your future either.

Want a different ending?

➤   Go back to the prologue to change your fate

[stalksbyakuyatogami]

Could I request Yandere!Makoto Naegi, Nagito Komaeda, Shuichi Saihara, and Kokichi Ouma (separately) with an S/O who is scared of men because her father used to abuse her for "misbehavior" (when it was usually something small), so she's absolutely terrified after they kidnap her because she thinks they'll beat her, too? But like, once they get close to her and convince her that they won't hurt her, she's the most loyal, clingy, and affectionate person on the planet? I understand if you don't wanna to this, tho!

Yandere Makoto, Nagito, Shuichi, and Kokichi With A Traumatized S/O

Yes. Is everything okay tho?

TW: yandere, abduction, obsession, stalkerish behavior, stalking, mention of killing

Makoto Naegi

•The reason why Makoto kidnapped you in the first place is to distance you from your father.

•He explained this the very first time you regained consciousness.

•But, nevertheless, you were still terrified. He might be bluffing so that you can trust him and he'd steal that moment where you're the most vulnerable and strike your weak point.

•Even though he made you free to do anything you want (except escaping), you tried not to move too much, afraid of making him angry.

•He already killed anyone that opposed him. You can't be too sure that just because he loves you means he won't hurt you.

•Days and weeks went by. He never showed any signs of violence. He even takes care of you.

•Maybe... some men like Makoto aren't so bad at all.

•When you returned his love much more than he expected, he was over the moon.

•He never thought he'd timid S/O who would flinch at a simple raise of a hand would be this affectionate with him.

•He's not one to get that angry, so you don't have to worry. Do your best to live your life with him.

Nagito Komaeda

•You were terrified of this guy, especially since he's a weirdo.

•You've seen his self-harm marks on himself and that was one proof that he can hurt you any second too.

•The reason why he kidnapped you was... because you gave him hope. Your timidness made him wonder whether you were hiding a talent or something. So he decided to see for himself. Simple as that.

•He always praised you and never told you anything degrading. The only thing he's degrading is himself.

•Little did both of you know (yeah he’s unconscious too) that this was a little tactic for you to pity him. Nagito was only self-deprecating because he thinks he's lowly. He doesn't mean to make himself look pity in front of you.

•It got to you anyway.

•You felt bad for him. His self-degradation... his unreciprocated feelings...

•So you started to slowly fall in love with him.

•When he realized that you were doing this, "Are you sure with that, S/O?"

•Well, you've been afraid of men for as long as you can remember. He's nothing like them.

•He is very happy that you'd even give love to scum like him.

Shuichi Saihara

•Shuichi was a shy yandere. He wanted you for himself yet he couldn't interact with you that often. He's also observed that you don't approach men that much, so he decided to do some research.

•When he found out what your trauma was, that's when he decided to kidnap you. He doesn't want you to be near these feared creatures of yours. It doesn't matter whether you love him or not. You'll learn to love him anyway. He makes sure of it.

•When you were first captured, he quickly apologized that he did. He explained that he only wanted to protect you that's why he did this.

•You don't seem to believe though. Protect? Then why kidnap you? Why bind you onto something?

•He's been observing you for a few days now. Glances, stares. He's observing your behavior around him. It was really creepy.

•But never once did he show violence. Never raised his voice when you didn't want to eat. Never raised his hand whenever you didn't do what he needed you to do.

•When you returned his love, he was very glad. He wasn't that enthusiastic since he knew it was gonna happen eventually. But he was happy nonetheless. The love of his life reciprocating his love back.

Kokichi Ouma

•The very first reason Kokichi abducted you was because he hated how your father treated you.

•"Man, you're father's real abusive, it makes me wanna kill him!" In a childish tone while he has that eager look in his eyes so he doesn't scare you.

•He didn't have to be so vulgar... you just wanted your father to change anyway. •He killed him. He doesn't have the right to hurt you after all. Why would he hurt a precious thing like you? Stupid.

•Without you knowing of course. How would you know anyway, you're abducted!

•He talks to you every day to make you trust him. You see this as an indirect method of doing so, but it seems to slowly consume you. You cannot turn back since he's so interesting and curious.

•When you started to love him back, he was very happy. It was like earning first place in a competition.

•You didn't see him using violence against you, and he seems physically harmless. Even though his tongue may be too sharp sometimes. But he makes sure his words don't hurt you that much.

Spoilers for V3! I'm at the 4th class trial and Kokichi is getting way too mean to Gonta. Can't blame him though. A bit angry at him but I love antagonists so aaaaaaaaaaa!! Thank you for requesting, anon.

-Mod Toko

[bthump]

Headcanons for an au where NeoGriff regains his emotions and seeks Guts out?

Man, yk the thought of NGriff suddenly regaining his emotions is hard to wrap my brain around. Like if he is emotionless, or nearly so, right now and then suddenly gets them back all at once?

tbh idk if he’d seek Guts out. honestly my number one thought is that he’d want to die. And not even like, out of guilt, like because he thinks he deserves it or anything, but more just because he wouldn’t be able to handle having feelings again. Like he’d definitely feel guilty but he wouldn’t want to kill himself to assuage that guilt, but rather to escape it. In these circumstances, from his point of view, continuing on to fulfill his dream would be a self-sacrificial attempt to assuage that guilt, while dying would be a selfish escape.

Imo having feelings again suddenly would make his dream feel even more important, because he’s done even more horrible shit on the road to achieving it now (including breaking the world so that his utopia needs to exist for anyone who doesn’t want to get eaten by a dragon lol). So I think what he’d be most likely to do is exactly what he has been doing, but now barely managing to keep his shit together.

Also consider: suddenly having a heap of trauma from being tortured for a year dumped back on him, just as raw as it was when his feelings were frozen away.

And of course there’s his feelings for Guts. Who definitely thinks he’s cruel now lol. Honestly if he did seek Guts out I think it would be to kill him, or be killed. As nearly-emotionless NGriff he was fine existing in the same world as Guts and pretending not to care, but now I don’t think he’d be able to stand the thought of like, Guts hating him, basically. And probably the result would be “be killed” because if even Femto couldn’t kill Guts NGriff suddenly dealing with all his feelings again definitely couldn’t lol.

Now I’m wondering what would happen if like, when Griffith got his feelings back, Guts was right there. Like say he had a magic plan to bring Griffith’s ~soul~ back and was waiting for it to take effect. OOOOOH. How about Griffith, about two seconds away from a breakdown, blaming Guts for his weakness and impossible to handle emotional turmoil, screaming “You should have died!” Kinda like how Guts fixing Casca had all that ominous foreshadowing, “what will she do if she does get her sanity back?” etc, fixing Griffith would also not be a good time for anyone. I think things would be really dark honestly.

Like if Guts brought his soul back or whatever Griff might understand that Guts doesn’t hate human him. But by now he’s a few steps beyond the love is all you need happy ending we could’ve got in a Golden Age AU imo. I think basically his 2 options are to die or bottle it up as hard as humanly possible and keep pursuing the dream. Idk if I can imagine a happy ending out of this lol. Even if Guts was willing to do or say anything to get one, which is pretty unlikely bc he has a ton of painful feelings rn too, I can’t really think of anything that would work. Mmmaybe Guts offering to join him again in Falconia, helping achieve his dream? But I don’t really think he would, and even then I think Griff would still be light years away from being capable of dealing with being in love with Guts on top of everything. Might be an interesting starting point though.

Ooh, or maybe Guts destroying Falconia with no hope of restoring it, leaving Griffith with nothing else to turn to but him. Maybe Guts defies fate with magic brand powers by restoring Griff’s feelings and this shoves the world off-track and cuts Griff off from his magic fate powers. Or maybe getting his soul back completely nerfs him. Or maybe his immunity to and calming influence on apostles is taken away and they destroy Falconia and now he’s got an army of apostles obsessed with him and able to do something about it. Whatever works to ruin Griff’s life again. Though this would be griffgutsy, but not exactly a happy ending lmao.

It’s like, Guts makes Griff fall in love with him, destroys him, destroys his dream, refuses to die, then just when Griff thinks he’s in the clear on account of being an unfeeling demon with no weaknesses Guts shoves all his weaknesses back into him but ten times worse now and destroys him and his dream again. Like at that point Griffith would just give up lol.

The way I’m envisioning this it would be pretty damn dark, rather than romantic and hopeful. I’d emphasize the hell out of the emotional nightmare this is for Griff lol. Guts finally gets Griffith’s undivided attention because he razed every safeguard Griffith put in place to protect himself from that love to the ground. Fuck enemies to lovers style love/hate, you can’t beat I hate you because I love you style love/hate. And I mean as much as Guts loves Griff he’s still pretty dark in canon and his feelings would still be mixed in this situation imo, he might get a lil thrill out of destroying the idyllic paradise Griffith chose over Guts, and making him feel everything he’s done, and finally getting him to look at him and only him after he’s spent years in pursuit of him and tried and failed to get over him. This could totally be fucked up on both sides. Hand in unloveable hand.

ANYWAY thanks for the ask, and sorry this isn’t really a fun positive answer lol, I’m too caught up in Griffith’s self-destructive feelings and convoluted ways to make griffguts fucked up.

I think I could actually more easily imagine Guts and NeoGriffith living happily ever after than Guts and a fully emotional again Griffith who remembers making the sacrifice and being Femto lol.

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 4

Hinata had no idea what she was doing following this child around, being lead from booth to booth, watching her pick up snacks and play games as they went. She was asked if she wanted a taiyaki, but she hadn't the stomach for it. She was asked if she wanted to help win her a plushie, but she was too numb to respond.

Everyone was looking at them.

Her classmates made comments in passing.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a sister!"

"Whoa, shocker! You're not an only child?"

"Huh? Who's that?"

"Guess Hyuuga-san can't be mysterious and secretive forever."

And then there was Naruto's face angled above the river of bodies, wide, open eyes filled with confusion and concern.

She ducked her head down. At the same time, Hanabi tugged at her skirt and pointed at another booth ahead. Following her lead her closer to Naruto, who began to push his way through to reach her.

His prescence is always like the sun, at times warm and welcoming, other times overbearing. Suffocatingly hot, in fact. Like now. Like she's been abandoned without her shoes, wandering barefoot on an asphalt desert, and here he is bearing down on her, unrelenting.

Several takes are made between Hanabi and herself. He's assessing with his own eyes and verifying it against their history.

"How old is she?" He murmurs.

Hinata releases a shaky sigh. "Ten. Her birthday's in March."

And Kurenai had taken them in the summer before. Her parents must have gotten pregnant again shortly after.

They both watched as Hanabi grasped the baseball and threw her arm back. After a couple near misses, she finally got it through the 300pt hole. Hinata clapped, but it was hollow and robotic. This obvious show of pain only earned her more of his attention, and that pained her too.

Hanabi skipped over to them, another palm-sized plushie added to the others hooked inside her left arm. Her cunning upturned eyes widened upon seeing Naruto standing so closely to her Onee-san.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

Naruto froze up, a hand reached behind his head as he sputtered to explain without making things weird.

"He's someone that was nice to me in grade school," Hinata said coolly.

"Uh, yeah," The right half of Naruto's face pinched in mild disagreement, finding her answer a bit more impersonal than he was going for.

"What? That's all?" Hanabi's open-mouth frown made her look like the goldfish she tried to scoop earlier. She seemed visibly bored by this revelation.

Hinata also caught an indignant look from Naruto, whose eyes seemed to ask 'Yeah, that's all?'.

"Oh, I forgot," She met his stare, "You're trying to befriend the whole school by graduation." It wasn't code. He was almost obsessively expanding his contacts every day. He wanted to appear in every school photo for the yearbooks. He wanted the empty spaces so dense with inside jokes, fond wishes and signatures that no one could ever say he was unpopular and unloved.

"Hell yeah. And I'm halfway there, too."

It was Hanabi's turn to read the air between them as she glanced from person to person. A good-humored smirk curved her lips. "Looks like you have a long ways to go with Onee-san. Well, nice meeting you!" She grabbed Hinata's hand and began to drag her away, waving her flummoxed acquaintance goodbye. Hinata didn't even resist.

Naruto watched her disappear through the throng, as irritation and discomfort took seat inside his chest. She's walking around like a puppeted corpse and she gives him attitude?! His sigh transforms into a drawn out growl as he mentally works through the wrongness he feels. He comes out of it calmer, sympathy renewed.

She's simply not acting like herself. He has to forgive her for that.

As her brother, and the only one that's around, he has to fix this.

Otherwise, what is he good for?

______________________________

He had determined to find her again later in the day, when her sister surprise was no longer sucking the soul out of her.

And he does find her later, when the sky is a guava-mango sorbet dimming darker, and the school halls are shadowed in sleepy silence.

She's found a place to be alone, in a stairwell that hardly anybody uses.

Well, except himself. And a few others.

It's a great place for a post-lunchtime quickie.

It's not a hundred-percent guarantee to be unoccupied, but it's kind of a well-guarded school secret.

Now that he thinks about it, as she sits there much like his other catches have, and he's coming to meet her when everyone's gone, it leaves him feeling... exposed and shameful. Like they're both here for unsavory reasons.

A flash of a memory intrudes on him, of baby-soft, plump white skin that refused to be buttoned up in the shirt he shrank, bouncing with the force to cause an earthquake in his room, that tight-lined cleavage taunting him.

It took him weeks to look her in the face again, and he thinks about it now?!

He smacks his cheeks until he's regained stoic resolve. But then something else nags at him.

What if she was here, and she was waiting for someone else?

No one's invited her over here yet, he would know.

But they could. And when they did...

He shakes off these burdensome thoughts like a wet dog.

No one in this school has their eye on his sister. He would know that, too.

And he wouldn't allow it.

He can't think of a damn soul that's good enough for her.

So hardworking, so generous, so considerate and patient. Plus she was smart, she cooks better than Kurenai-obasan, and she's an amazing listener.

She's just so, so amazing.

And yet, stuff like this happens.

She's like the smallest thing to ever exist, that's what she looks like right now. As if he could scoop her up with both hands and still lose her between the cracks of his palms.

Just like when they first met.

Neji's voice rises up in the back of his mind. "You're the only one I can ask."

He's got a lot of experience cheering her up and making her feel safe, and this time will be no different.

Or so he thought.

When she looks up at him, he feels transparent. Her brow is furrowed like it doesn't make sense for him to be here.

"Can you take me to the train station?" She asks unblinkingly, thin tears escaping from the inner corners.

His mind goes a mile a minute with speculation, but he'd already been planning on saying 'yes' to her no matter what she had asked of him.

______________________________

They're taking the train to Neji's private high school. It's way pass curfew, so there's no visiting him at his dorm, but they're going to try.

Naruto can't talk to her because she's fully turned towards the window. Instead he takes this free time to picture himself in her situation. That he has family somewhere out there, and siblings he's never met. That they lived their lives without him. Maybe even erased his existence from their story. No photographs, no baby book.

Was Hinata even still on their family registry?!

He folded over and clutched his head, groaning. "This is so fucked. How could they do this to you?!"

For the past six hours, she's been asking herself the same thing.

She was also asking for Hanabi's sake, those fragile words ringing over and over in the back of her mind.

"Do you think I'm a redo?"

Hinata squeezed her eyes shut tight.

Because there are no redos without mistakes.

______________________________

AN: Sorry, this is only 800 words! D: I'll probably combine this with the previous chapter as well when I post it to AO3. Or maybe it's somehow fine as is? Like an Interlude? I also wanted to write that heartwrenching scene between Hanabi and Hinata and get some exposition out of the way, but today it felt tedious. :( I wish I had written it when I originally wanted to, lol.

That aside, I'm not totally happy with the flow of the middle scene, it just feels maybe... distracted? or disjointed? Hmm... tangential?

Plus I couldn't seem to dig very deep into Naruto's reactions and like, the logical progression of his emotions. I feel I just skimmed the surface. Oh wait, maybe it's because he ought to be belligerently outspoken about this stuff, right? （・□・；）

Sometimes I think I really miss the ball when writing Naruto cuz I subdue him to be more 'normal' and have enough situational awareness to get by on. (눈_눈)

[mettleborn-a]

Continued from x

@justacomedy​ said: 

A passionate kiss shared between the two bought them here: Samuel resting his forehead against Arthur’s as both men take a moment of silence to regain their breath, chests rising and falling in sync with one another’s and Arthur has never felt so connected to another human being like he does right now. Their shared compassion wasn’t spoken as much as it was shown, silent gestures to replace the words they can hardly gather and it was as if they had their own language. One of which no one else could understand; a language filled with so much raw emotion that they could spend their entire lives without uttering another word and yet they’d understand the exact message being sent between one another. In this moment, Arthur believes that their hearts are beating in complete unison. The time feels like it’s passing them slowly and their silence was far from empty.  Arthur couldn’t ask for a better moment: nothing was better than his time spent here, with Samuel.

— He catches himself overcome with joy; it’s been happening more and more lately and the feeling was still so new to him. It was almost funny to him to think that his life finally left an opening for him to actually feel happiness; to actually enjoy something in life. The thought brought his smile to widen, thin lips parting just enough to reveal a glance at his teeth. How did he ever get so lucky? “Have I ever told you that you feel like home to me?” he spoke up. Even living in his own apartment hardly felt like home. It was Penny’s home and he was simply residing in it. He never feels happy there. But here, he feels happy. Loved. He could be anywhere with Samuel and feel like he’s at home. And he wishes they could leave this place, find somewhere better to live than a city infested with super rats filled with nothing but misery. “Sometimes, I wish we could just run away together.” he admitted wistfully. If it weren’t for his mother, maybe he would. He couldn’t move her even if he did have the money to; she’s rooted here. Tied not only to the hospital for her medical problems, but also by her obsession of Thomas Wayne. She’d never agree to leave this place and he couldn’t just leave her. He didn’t have he heart to. But no matter; his poor finances has him tied down regardless. — “Wouldn’t that be nice?” he mused aloud, eyes fluttering closed as he let himself slip into his imagination for a moment; the two of them together, strolling along the shore of a beach together as the tide graced their feet. Fingers intertwined and they wouldn’t have a worry in the world. He’d always dreamt of living near a beach; but this was the first time he’s envisioned it with Samuel. He’s never been to one, but he always painted a nice picture of what life would be like there and the thought of Samuel there with him made it even better. “Do you like the beach?” Arthur would settle anywhere with him; here, the beach- any other place that Sam may desire. He didn’t care, he would be happy.

==============================

That smile…that smile is everything to Sam, truthfully that is the thing he takes the most pride in, the most joy in; in making Arthur’s smile. It is not that awkward smile either, the one Fleck often shows in public, the one that is meant to put others at ease, that is meant to disguise the way Arthur truly feels. No; this smile is real and shamelessly joyful and meant all for Sam and Sam alone and that is what makes it so truly special – the sheer intimacy of it.  

Home…that’s exactly what Samuel wants to be to Arthur; a safe haven, a port in a storm, offering a place he can come to escape his mother, to escape a world that cares little about either of them and has demonstrated nothing but cruelty and neglect. Is it any wonder they have chosen to find hope within each other when the world has failed to allow them even the briefest glimpse of it?

“I would like that.” Admittedly there is nothing Samuel would want more; for Arthur to be free, to escape his verbally abusive mother, a woman whose chooses words that seems deliberately cruel and callous in the face of all of Arthur’s tender and loving care. She doesn’t deserve him; no one else does.

Reaching over, Sam slowly combs his fingers through locks of Arthur’s limp brown hair as he considers the proposition; it has been years since he visited the beach, though he knows there is one to be found if you travel far enough out of Gotham, towards the West.  

“I’ve always wanted to visit Shell Beach.” He confirms, glancing up towards the ceiling to clearly imagine it. As far as he knows, it is a man-made beach, where huge concrete walls frame clean golden sands, that stretch out to the sea. He’s only really seen postcards of the place, but the image is clear to him regardless; especially of the small pier, which he would adore to walk along with Arthur, holding hands in the bright, warm daylight.  

“We could go swimming.” He has no idea if Arthur actually knows how to swim, but it is of little consequence, it’s highly unlikely Sam has the money or Arthur the time to travel so far and visit the beach, but it’s still nice to think about he supposes. So often Sam feels trapped in this city, but with Arthur he feels free.

Shifting up off the mattress, Sam slips on top of Arthur, but uses his own strength to hold himself up, not wishing to press too hard against Arthur’s body which is much frailer than his own. Bowing his head, he gently plants a row of kisses along Fleck’s jutting collar bone before briefly tracing the curvature of taut skin with the sharp tip of his tongue. Even in moments like this, where they are fantasising about escaping off somewhere together, it’s important for him to show Arthur that’s he’s beautiful to Sam and desirable.

“We could get a hotel room, with a clean, crisp white sheets and a sea view…” He ventures, allowing his warm palm to drift up Arthur’s torso, as he considers how he could make such a thing possible for them both. Could he steal the money to go, would Arthur travel with him then, even if just for a few days.

“It would be nice to get out of the city a while together.”