#dispatch demo
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When there is no other media to consume you play the demo for the eighth time. Canât skip cutscenes, because they didnât account for FREAKS LIKE ME
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I swear, Dispatch might be my new hyperfixation. I keep watching people play it. I keep thinking about it. I keep theorizing about it.
Iâm so excited to find out more about Mr. Robert Robertson (someoneâs parents loved him /j). What happened to his Mech suit? What was happening to him between its breaking and him getting recruited? Like, why exactly was he in a bad place? Has he centered his life around being a hero/being Mecha Man? Maybe having something to do with his dad, hmmmâŠ?
Iâm so excited for the official release!
#dispatch#superhero dispatch#superhero#robert robertson#mecha man#iâm so excited#i canât wait for the full release#i hope it lives up to the hype#dispatch demo
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Dispatch
Dispatch was absolutely amazing!
I highly recommend this to literally anyone because everything about this game is just chefs kiss good!
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So this is a secret dating sim, right? . . . Please?
#hi devs thanks for putting my types on blast for everyone to see#they are all criminals but have never done anything wrong ever your honour i love them#dispatch#dispatch demo#sonar#flambae#punch up#malevora#golem#prism#coupe#invisigal
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Dispatch OC heueheuehueheuhe) Wanted to make a fancy shmancy french unicorn man that I love so dearly.
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also to everyone who played the demo, we know that blonde blazer is gonna be A Problem right
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DISPATCHÂ | â¶ dev. AdHoc Studio Blonde Blazer
#dispatch#dispatch game#adhoc studio#mydispatch#useranya#gamingnetwork#videogameedit#gamediting#vgedit#dailygaming#Blonde Blazer#ppppsssst.....playable demo is out...
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// ... i do not know what to play. now that i finished the big jrpg of the month.
#ă ooc . ă Ï Â power off .#// i need enrichment. back to demos i go#demo fest goin!!!#speaking of demos yall i tried dispatch and it was so fun AND funny#if yall remember telltale and miss that you should try this#also waiting for tumblr to discover this and bend that man over a table i know the type#i mean uh cool characters. who said that
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Aujourd'hui on change de boulot ! Ă la tĂȘte d'une Ă©quipe de "super-hĂ©ros" de qualitĂ©, nous allons aider les habitants de notre merveilleuse ville Ă rĂ©soudre leurs soucis !!! (mais seulement ceux qui ont un abonnement ;D) C'est parti !!!
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Dispatch has a demo!
the "shut up and take my money" shot
shut up and take my money
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Why is he a perfect dispatch for the first mission?????? âDonât make the child cryâ, I am now looking way too deep into this alongside the fact he (surprisingly) doesnt have any account of murder on file.
#dispatch#dispatch demo#dispatch game#dispatch Flambae#flambae#I love this horrible little rat#canât wait to beat the shit out of him in the full game#writing that fanfiction right now lads#Iâm hoping I donât lose motivation for it HAHAHAHHAHA
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Hi! How are you doing? I hope you're doing fine! âšïžđ
I've read all your headcanons so I was hoping if you could accept my request. âšïž
They have been dating reader in secret but their relationship gets leaked (You decide how for each member) and it could be angst?
Thanks you for taking time on reading my ask and hopefully writing my request đ
Have a nice day! âšïž
đ Reply:
Hi there! đ Thanks so much for your kind message and for loving the headcanons! Absolutely adore this angsty request... I appreciate you sending this in, and hope you have the loveliest day too! âš - also I'm sorry for the late reply, but I hope its what you wanted and imagined đ
-c-
BTS (OT7) x Reader Secret Relationship LeakedÂ



NAMJOON
-âNot all rainbows need an audience.â-
HOW IT LEAKED
starts with a demo track
Namjoon had been working on a solo project
= raw, unfiltered piece titled âMonochrome RainâÂ
inspired by the quiet mornings he spent with you
= the way youâd trace constellations on his back while he scribbled lyrics
= the way your laughter harmonized with his pianoâs minor keys
he accidentally uploads an unedited version to SoundCloud, in a sleep-deprived haze
track includes a voicemail snippet of you whispering:
âCome to bed, Joon-ah. The stars can wait.â
fans dissect it within minutes
metadata reveals the recording date
= a night BTS was supposedly in Tokyo
ARMYs cross-reference his old VLives
finding the exact moment heâd glanced offscreen, smile softening as if someone had called his name
hashtags trend: #NamsSecret, #WhoIsShe
by dawn, Dispatch has your name
HIS PUBLIC REACTION
Stage Persona
at press conference for the new album, heâs asked about the leak
adjusts his glasses
CEO-like mask sliding into place
âMusic is a diary. Some pages are meant to be read aloud; others⊠are written in ink that fades.âÂ
room erupts in chatter
he doesnât flinch
Weverse
posts a photo of a stormy sky
captioned:
âNot all rainbows need an audience.âÂ
ARMYs debate if itâs a metaphor or a confession
Damage Control
lets Big Hit release a vague statement about âprivate matters."
insists on no lies
âI wonât call her a âfriend.â Sheâs⊠more.â
HIS PRIVATE REACTION
heâs in his studio
staring at the chaos of papers and half-empty coffee cups
when you walk in, he doesnât turn around
âTheyâll dissect you."
voice hollow
âYour childhood photos, your family, the way you pronounce âbibliophileâ⊠Theyâll say youâre why the albumâs delayed.â
you reach for him
he pulls away
pacing like a caged animal
âI knew this would happen. Iâm⊠Iâm not safe. Iâm a curse.âÂ
his voice cracks on the last word
suddenly heâs 19 again - rookie leader who apologized for existing (too loudly)
Breaking Point
at 4 a.m.
drags you to Namsan Tower
city lights blurring through his unshed tears
âI wanted to protect you."
rasps, gripping the railing until his knuckles bleach
âBut Iâm just⊠a man who loves too loudly in a world that demands whispers.â
you kiss his trembling hands
he collapses into you
he's muttering into your hair like a prayer
AFTERMATH
Professional Life
Album
releases âMonochrome Rainâ as the title track
rewrites the bridge
new lyrics gut you:Â
âLove, a language too heavy for my tongue / I bite the words, let them bruise my lungs.â
Interviews
when asked about the âmystery museâ he smirks
âArt thrives in shadows. But if you listen closely⊠sheâs in every breath.â
Personal Life
New Rules
no more lazy Sundays at Han River
instead, he rents a secluded cabin under a fake name
âKim Namjoon? Never heard of himâ
buys a vintage typewriter to write you letters
unsigned
Guilt
starts therapy
scribbles in his journal
âHow do I love her without devouring her?â
Quiet Rebellion
wears your scarf to the Grammyâs
tucked under his suit
lets it slip during his red-carpet twirl
quotes your favorite poet in his acceptance speech
LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE
Nightmares
wakes up gasping
clutching your wrist
âI dreamt they⊠they took you.âÂ
lets you hum âMoonchildâÂ
until his heartbeat steadies
Playlist
makes you a mixtape titled âFor When the World Feels HeavyâÂ
filled with Mitski and Epik High
hides a voicemail at the end:Â
âIâd burn it all down for you. Just say the word.â
Ritual
every anniversary, he plants a tree in your name
âRoots are the original secrets, they grow deeper when no oneâs watching.â



JIN
-âMy only partner is this mic! And Jungkookâs credit card.â -
HOW IT LEAKED
a stray sticker on his water bottle during a Weverse Live
a tiny cartoon heart you doodled as a joke
fans zoom in
reverse-image search it
trace it to your Instagram story from months ago
within hours, screenshots of your matching couple bracelets (yours engraved with âWorldwide Your Handsomeâ) flood forums
Dispatch digs deeper
= a blurred photo of Jin leaving your apartment at dawn, a bouquet of peonies in hand (your favorite, bought after a petty fight)
headline reads:Â âBTSâs Jin: Secret Romance with Non-Celebrity Partner Exposed!â
HIS PUBLIC REACTION
Deflection with Humor
at a fan meeting, a fan shouts:
âOppa, are you dating?!âÂ
Jin smirks
flexing
âWhy? Are you proposing? Donât make Worldwide Handsome choose!âÂ
crowd laughs
his grip tightens on the mic
VLive/Weverse Damage Control
hosts a mukbang
casually showing his bare wrists
âBracelets? Too flashy! Iâm a simple man... just give me kimchi and WiFi.âÂ
fans notice his pinky ring
= yours, borrowed and never returned
he waves it off
âFamily heirloom. My grandmaâs ghost will haunt you if you ask again!â
Company Statement
BigHit issues a vague denial
Jin insists on adding more
âPlease respect my personal life. Iâm still the same guy who forgets to water his plants!â
HIS PRIVATE REACTION
Night of the Leak
cancels your dinner date
citing âgroup stuff"
you find him at 1 a.m. in the kitchen
stress-baking songpyeon with twice the usual sugar.Â
"Itâs okay...â (you)
slams the rolling pin down
âItâs not.âÂ
his voice cracks
âTheyâre calling you a gold-digger. A distraction. I shouldâve⊠I shouldâve been smarter.â
Breaking Point
avoids you for three days
throwing himself into rehearsals
on the fourth night, he shows up at your door
hair messy
holding a Budae-jjigae pot
âI couldnât sleep...â
mumbles
âKept thinking⊠what if they hurt you? What if Iâm not enough to protect you?âÂ
you hug him
he clings like youâre the last life raft on the Titanic
AFTERMATH
Professional Life
Fan Interactions
starts ending lives with:
âLove yourself! And⊠maybe donât stalk your biasâs water bottles?âÂ
ARMYs laugh
tho the subtext stings
Variety Shows
hosts tease him about dating?
he leans into the joke
âMy only partner is this mic! And Jungkookâs credit card.âÂ
later texts you:Â
âMiss you. Will make it up to you with jajangmyeon.â
Personal Life
New Rules
no more public dates
rents a private karaoke room weekly
dedicating âEpiphanyâ to you off-key
âYouâre my real audience"Â
he grins, cheeks flushed with soju and sincerity
Guilty Pleasures
sneaks your photo into his selcas
hidden in phone case reflections
âInside joke, with myself. Because Iâm hilarious.â
Quiet Rebellion
Gaming Nights
livestreams under a fake account (âEatJin_SecretSnackâ)
teaming up with you
âNoob_Queen? Just⊠a fan. A very talented fan.â
Food Wars
brings you to his favouriteâ restaurants, introducing you as âmy taste-testerâ
chef friends side-eye him
"Seokjin-ah, why is she wearing your jacket?âÂ
he chokes on kimchi
LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE
Notes
slips handwritten jokes into your bag
âWhy did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was out-standing in his field⊠just like you.âÂ
signed:Â âYour (secret) Worldwide Handsome.â
Protectiveness
buys you a panic button disguised as a keychain
âFor my peace of mind. And donât lose it... itâs Gucci!âÂ
Vulnerability
falls asleep on your lap after concerts
murmuring
âJin tired. Just⊠let me stay here, okay?â



YOONGI
-âMy music speaks for itself. If youâre looking for gossip, youâre in the wrong room.â-
HOW IT LEAKED
a producerâs slipup
Yoongi had been collaborating on a track for an indie artist
during a late-night studio session, heâd left his phone unlocked
voice memo plays accidentally over the speakers
= your voice, soft and sleep-heavy, murmuring
âYoongi-ya, come to bed. Youâve been at it for hours.âÂ
other producer, thinks itâs part of the song
includes the clip as an âauthentic, intimate vibe.â
track drops
fans dissect it instantly
within hours, the audio snippet is isolated
looped, and compared to your voice from an old YouTube video where you reviewed his mixtape
hashtags like #WhoIsSUGAsMuse and #AgustDGF trend
Dispatch digs up a grainy photo of you two from a year ago
= Yoongiâs hand brushing yours under a cafĂ© table
his face unreadable
his thumb tracing your knuckles
HIS PUBLIC REACTION
Cold Silence
ignores all questions
at a press conference, when asked about the âmystery woman,â he stares the reporter down
âMy music speaks for itself. If youâre looking for gossip, youâre in the wrong room.â
Defiance
releases a remix of the track a week later
your voice amplified and distorted into a haunting echo
title? âNo Comment.â
ARMYâs Clues
notices he starts wearing a black ring on his right hand
a subtle symbol
fans debate if itâs a coincidence or a middle finger to speculation
HIS PRIVATE REACTION
heâs in his studio
jaw clenched
deleting hundreds of hate comments aimed at you
when you walk in, he doesnât look up
âYou should leave."
mutters, voice gravelly
âIâll call you a cab. Donât⊠donât come here for a while.â
you freeze
âYoongi, we knew this could...â
he snaps
slamming his fist on the desk
âI told you Iâd ruin it. Iâm not... Iâm not built for this.âÂ
his anger cracks
revealing the fear beneath
âTheyâll eat you alive. And Iâll just⊠sit here. Useless.â
Breaking Point
disappears for two days
you find him in Daegu
in the tiny studio he built in his parentsâ garage
walls are covered in scribbled lyrics
half of them about you
heâs asleep at his desk
head pillowed on a notebook open to a page titled âWays to Disappear.â
when he wakes, he doesnât apologize
just hands you a cup of instant coffeeÂ
âIâm not good at this. But Iâm not letting go.â
AFTERMATH
Professional Life
Music
writes a diss track aimed at the producer who leaked the clip
âYou want a story? Hereâs one about betrayal and bitch-made moves.âÂ
buried in the second verse is a line only you understand fully
âHer voice is my compass... you just noise.â
Interviews
when probed about âromanceâ he deadpans
âIâm married to my work. But my work has trust issues.â
Personal Life
New Rules
no more midnight walks
installs blackout curtains and soundproofing in ALL rooms
âOur world starts hereâÂ
nodding to the tiny couch where you now sleep most nights
Guilt
starts donating anonymously to anti-paparazzi charities
when you ask why, he grumbles
âTax write-offs.â
Quiet Rebellion
learns ASL to communicate with you during events
âLove youâÂ
signs it under the table at the MAMAs
eyes locked on the stage like heâs bored
writes your name in tiny Hangul letters inside his Grammy trophy
âSo theyâll never know who Iâm thanking.â
LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE
Nightmares
wakes up in a cold sweat
clutching the collar of your shirt
âDreamt they⊠found you. Took you.âÂ
lets you play his own âFirst Loveâ on the piano until he stops shaking
Playlist
makes you a mixtape titled âFor the Bad DaysâÂ
filled with angry rap and a single hidden track
= a lullaby he hummed into his phone at 4 a.m.
Ritual
every month, he buys a new plant for your apartment
âTheyâre quieter than people."
names them after lyrics heâll never release


J-HOPE
-âLove⊠is the reason I dance.â-
HOW IT LEAKED
a moment of unguarded tenderness
happens during a live dance practice stream
Hobi pauses to adjust the camera angle
âGotta make sure they donât see...âÂ
before cutting himself off
but the mic picks up your voice offscreen
teasing
âHobi-ya, your shirtâs inside out⊠again.â
clip goes viral
dissected for its intimacy
= the way his shoulders relax at your voice, the fond exasperation in your tone
fans stitch it with old content
= you wearing his hoodie in a 2018 Vlog, him slipping you a candy during a concert rehearsal.
by midnight, #HopeâsSecret trends globally
HIS PUBLIC REACTION
Mask
at the next fansign, he cranks his sunshine dial to 200%
laughs off questions
âYou know Iâm married to dance, right?âÂ
his smile strains at the edges
posts a mirror selfie captioned âAlone but not lonely đâ
a lie so glaring it aches
Damage Control
volunteers for extra schedules
flooding social media with dance covers
ARMYs praise his ârelentless positivityâ
you see the desperation beneath it
- heâs trying to outrun the storm-
Interview That Breaks Him
reporter asks him:
âIs love a distraction from your art?âÂ
Hobiâs smile falters
âLove⊠is the reason I dance.â
clip trends again with edits of him glancing offstage (as if searching for someone)
HIS PRIVATE REACTION
cancels your anniversary dinner
you find him in the practice room
shirt drenched
dancing to âBlue Sideâ on repeat
when you call his name, he whirls around
eyes wild
âWhy did I... Why did I let myself need you?âÂ
his voice cracks
âIâm supposed to beâŠÂ strong.â
Breaking Point
avoids you for days
then shows up at your door at 3 a.m.
trembling
âIâm sorry. Iâm so sorry. I keep... I keep ruining things.â
collapses into your arms
repeating âIâm sorryâ like a mantra
= as if guilt could be scrubbed clean by confession
Fear
confesses in whispers
âWhen I was a trainee, they told me joy was my only currency. What if⊠what if they decide Iâm bankrupt?â
AFTERMATH
Professional Life:
The Choreography: Creates a solo piece titled âEclipse.â Itâs all sharp angles and abrupt silences, his body folding inward like a flower denied light. Fans call it his âmost raw work yet.â Only you know itâs about the nights he cried in your lap.
The Lie: Refers to you as his âcousinâ in interviews. Laughs too loud, adds, âWeâre super close!â The first time he says it, he vomits afterward.
Personal Life:
New Rules:Â No more public dates. Instead, he rents a secluded dance studio under a fake name. Teaches you choreography at 2 a.m., his hands lingering on your waist like a secret.
Guilt: Buys you endless giftsâdesigner bags, rare vinyls, a necklace with a hidden sun pendant. âYou deserve everything,â he says, as if materialism could offset the loneliness.
The Quiet Rebellion:
Wears mismatched socks to rehearsalsâyour inside joke. When teased, he grins. âFashion is chaos, right?â
Slips your initials into his next album credits under âSpecial Thanks to My Sunrise.â ARMYs assume itâs a metaphor.
LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE
The Ritual:Â Every morning, he texts you a sunrise photo. No wordsâjust light. On bad days, he sends two.
The Playlist: Creates a secret SoundCloud titled âFor Her.â Filled with jazz covers of BTS songs, slowed down and soulful. The bio reads: âLove is a dance no one else hears.â
The Tattoo: Gets a tiny sun behind his ear. âSo even when Iâm performing⊠youâre with me.â



JIMIN
-âIf I had someone⊠Iâd want to protect them. Even from me.â-
HOW IT LEAKED
a humid night in Seoul
Jiminâs live stream starts innocently enough
cozy, post-concert wind-down where heâs draped in a oversized sweater
hair damp from the shower
answering fan questions with sleepy charm
exhaustion makes him reckless
when a comment asks: âWhatâs your ideal date? đâÂ
he smiles absently
gaze drifting offscreen to where youâre curled on the couch
âHmm⊠Rainy mornings. Someone who steals my hoodies. And⊠dancing in the kitchen at 2 a.m.âÂ
his voice softens
a secret slipping through
âEspecially if theyâre terrible at it.â
you laugh, unaware the mic catches it
a bright, familiar sound that ARMYs recognize from a cameo months ago
clip goes viral within hours
âWHO IS SHE?âÂ
next morning, a blurry paparazzi photo of Jiminâs hand brushing yours under a cafĂ© table floods forums
your linked pinkies labeled: âProof.â
HIS PUBLIC REACTION
Mask
next fan sign, heâs all dimples and sparkles
laughing off questions
âDancing in the kitchen? I was just⊠describing a drama plot!â
tho his smile doesnât crinkle his eyes
he signs an album with âLove is patientâÂ
Social Media
posts a mirror selfie half shirtless
captioned: âFocus on the gains, not the rumors đȘđ„.âÂ
comments explode with âHeâs deflecting!!â and âProtect him!!â
Stage Persona
at concert, he performs âFilterâ with razor-sharp precision
hips snapping like heâs punishing the world for looking too close
during the ment, he whispers:
âLove⊠is a mirror. Sometimes itâs kinder to look away.â
HIS PRIVATE REACTION
cancels your date
citing âschedule conflictsâ
then shows up at your door at 3 a.m.
eyes red-rimmed and hair tangled
âIâm sorry... Iâm so sorry...âÂ
he chokes
collapsing into your arms
âI didnât⊠I didnât mean toâŠÂ â
fists his hands in your shirt
voice breaking
âTheyâll hate you. Theyâll say Iâm yours and... and thatâs dangerous.â
Guilt
avoids touchfor days
flinching when you reach for him
practices until his feet bleed
screaming at mirrors
âControl it. Control.â
when you bandage his blisters, he sobs
âWhy wonât you leave? Iâm ruining you.â
Turning Point
you find him in the studio
slumped over the piano
playing a mangled version of âPromiseâÂ
he freezes when you enter
âI rewrote this for youâÂ
he whispers
âBut now itâs⊠a cage.âÂ
you sit beside him
pressing a melody into the keys
= your song
the one he hummed while making breakfast
he crumbles
âIâm scared...âÂ
admits it, forehead against yours
âBut Iâm more scared of losing us.â
AFTERMATH
Professional Life
Comeback
releases a new solo track - âVeilâÂ
with lyrics about âhands that fit too perfectly to hideâÂ
dances with a blindfold during the choreo
fingers brushing empty air where youâd stand
Interviews
when asked about dating, he tilts his head, coy
âIf I had someone⊠Iâd want to protect them. Even from me.â
Personal Life
New Rules
no more public cafes
instead, he rents out entire movie theaters under fake names (âMr. Park and⊠Mrs. Pancakes?â)
learns to cook your favorite dishes so you never have to risk takeout
Quiet Defiance
starts wearing your ring on a chain under his stage outfits
lets it slip during a jacket adjustment
smirk daring the cameras to notice
Healing
therapy
journals:Â âLove isnât a sin. Fear is.â
takes you to Busan
introduces you to his parents as âmy peaceâÂ
his mom cries
his dad hugs you, asing how you like your coffeeÂ
âYou better deserve himâÂ
but slips you extra cake
LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE
Nightmares
wakes up gasping
clutching your wrist
âI dreamt they⊠they took you.âÂ
lets you hum âSerendipityâ until his heartbeat steadies
Playlist
makes you a mixtape titled âFor When the World Feels HeavyâÂ
filled with H.E.R. and old Bolero covers
hides a voicemail at the end
âIâd burn it all down for you. Just say the word.â
Ritual
every month, he lights a candle and deletes one hate comment aloud
âYour words donât own us.â



TAEHYUNG
-âI wanted the world to see you like I do⊠but not like this.â-
HOW IT LEAKED
a photograph on his private blog
one he never meant to share
Taehyung had been curating a series titled âLight in the Cracksâ
= glimpses of his world through fractured mirrors and sunlit dust
one image stands out
= a shadowy silhouette of you dancing in an empty studio
backlit by golden hour
your figure blurred but unmistakable to anyone who knows you
caption reads: âMy favorite kind of magic: the unseen.â
fans zoom in
your necklace is a tiny moonstone pendant he gifted you on your first anniversary
matches the one in his latest live
ARMYs stitch timelines
tracing your shared glances at concerts
the way heâd hum âSweet Nightâ when you entered a room
by midnight, your Instagram is flooded with comments
âIs this Vâs muse?â
HIS PUBLIC REACTION
Artistâs Gambit
doesnât delete the photo
he posts a follow-up
= a close-up of wilting roses
captioned:  âBeauty is fragile. Handle with care.âÂ
fans dissect it as a plea for privacy
Press Play
at a movie premiere, reporters ambush him
âIs love your new inspiration?âÂ
he smirks
adjusting his beret
âLove is always my inspiration. Next question.â
Social Media Silence
archives all personal posts except the roses
changes his bio to âGuardian of galaxies.â
HIS PRIVATE REACTION
he is in his darkroom
red light casting shadows as he develops film
when you find him, his hands are stained with chemicals
trembling
âIâm sorry...âÂ
whispers, voice raw
âI wanted the world to see you like I do⊠but not like this.â
shows you a contact sheet of stolen moments
= your laugh caught mid-frame, your hand curled around his wrist, a tear he kissed away
âThese were just for us, now theyâreâŠÂ theirs.â
Breaking Point
3 a.m.
he drives you to Daegu
speeding through backroads until you reach his gradparents old farm
sits you under a persimmon tree where he wrote his first song
âHyung once told me love is a secret you plant."
murmurs
dirt under his nails as he digs a hole
buries a film canister of your photos
âLetâs grow it here. Where no one can dig it up.â
AFTERMATH
Professional Life
Artistic Rebellion
next photography exhibit features distorted self-portraits
= mirrors shattered and rearranged
he centerpiece?
= a single rose encased in glass
titled âUnreachable.âÂ
critics call it âmelancholic genius.â
ARMYs know better
Music Clues
releases a jazz cover of âSomeone Like YouâÂ
with modified lyrics
âDonât forget me, I beg⊠but forget the world.â
Personal Life
New Rituals
learns calligraphy to write you letters in Daegu satoori
sealed with wax stamps
signs them in red ink
Guilt & Protection
hires a bodyguard for you
then fires them when you protest
âFine. Then Iâll protect you myself.âÂ
starts taking Krav Maga
âFor art."
Defiant Love
wears a silver ring on his thumb
your initials etched inside
lets it âaccidentallyâ face the camera during a fansign
quotes Pablo Neruda in a Weverse reply
âI love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.â
LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE
Midnight Piano
plays âWinter Bearâ on loop when heâs anxious
fingers stumbling until you sit beside him
 âYouâre my melody...â
mumbles
resting his head on your shoulder
Sketchbook
fills pages with your eyes
...âthe left oneâs brighter when you lieâ
hides it under his bed
lets you find it with a sticky note
âFor your eyes only.â
Code
develops a tap system for crowded events
three squeezes = âI love youâÂ
two = âLetâs runâÂ
uses both excessively



JUNGKOOK
-âYou said⊠you wanted normal. And I⊠I couldnât even give you that.â-
HOW IT LEAKED
happens during a live
Jungkook, half-shirtless and sweaty post-workout
rambles about his gym routine
you call out from the kitchen
âKookie, did you eat the last mandu?!âÂ
he freezes mid-flex
eyes widening like a deer in headlights
live cuts off abruptly
but not before 2 million ARMYs hear his panicked: âUh⊠no?â and your laughter
fans dissect the clip frame by frame
someone enhances the background noise
isolating your voice from a BTS fanmeet Q&A three years prior
by midnight, your Instagram is flooded with side-by-side comparisons of your hands
visible in an old VLOG and the âmystery girlâ in his live
HIS PUBLIC REACTION
Silence
Jungkook ghosts social media for 72 hours
unprecedented for the man who once posted 10 gym selfies just a few days before
Deflection
returns with a thirst trap video captioned âFocus on your gains, not my snacks.âÂ
comments are disabled
Protective Fury
when a paparazzi shoves a mic in your face, he snarls
âTouch her again and Iâll end youâÂ
voice so low it trends as âDemon Jungkook.â
HIS PRIVATE REACTION
Immediate Aftermath
heâs a mess
you find him in the gym at 3 a.m.
punching a bag until his knuckles split
âI ruined it.â
chokes, sweat and tears mixing on his face
âYou said⊠you wanted normal. And I⊠I couldnât even give you that.â
Breaking Point
that night, he crawls into your bed
shaking
âIâll quit."
whispers
âFuck the fame. Letâs move to Jeju. Iâll fish. Youâll⊠sell seaweed. Weâll be nobodies.âÂ
you laugh
heâs dead serious.
Guilt & Growt
buys burner phones
creates coded playlists (âStrawberry Milkâ = I miss you; "Banana Milk" = I love you)
forces himself to watch the leaked clip 100 times
âTo remember how stupid I was.â
AFTERMATH
Professional Life
Music
releases a solo track
âSeven (Silent Nights)âÂ
lyrics about âloving in the dark, counting heartbeats instead of stars.âÂ
ARMYs sob
you know itâs about the nights he held you
terrified of dawn
Interviews
when asked about âdating rumorsâ he just smirks
âI date my dumbbells. Theyâre very loyal.â
his knee presses against yours under the table later
Personal Life
New Rules
learns to cook mandu from scratch and YouTube tutorials
leaves them on your pillow with Post-its
âProof Iâm learning.â
Symbolic Gestures
gets a tattoo of your initials under his ribcage
âSo even if they take everything, youâre here.â
LITTLE THINGS ONLY YOU SEE
Nightmares
wakes up clawing at his chest
convinced your initials vanished
makes you trace them with your finger
until his breathing steadies
Chaos
drags you to Namsan Tower at 4 a.m.
both of you in disguises
âWeâre tourists! FromâŠÂ Canada!â
Softness
whispers âIâm sorryâ into your skin every time he kisses you
= a mantra, a prayer, a promise
#magicshopstories#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts army#bangtan fanfic#bts au#namjoon scenarios#namjoon imagine#jin imagines#jin scenarios#yoongiheadcanons#yoongi imagine#yoongi scenarios#suga imagines#jhopeimagine#jimin imagine#jimin scenarios#taehyung scenarios#taehyung imagine#jungkook headcanons#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenarios#taehyung headcanons#bts requests#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#bts x fem!reader#bts scenarios#suga bangtan
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Chase is my new favorite character đ
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Robert Robertson | DISPATCH (DEMO)
The dialogue in this short demo is already funny, witty, and has me hooked! I cannot wait for the full game to be released this year!
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Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage
F!Non-Sorceres Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento
Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.
Trigger Warnings: Workplace harassment, pregnancy complications, verbal abuse, grief, and loss. Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Redemption Arc, Workplace Dynamics, Gamer Culture, Mystery Identity, Mild Violence, Pregnancy Complications, Emotional Hurt, Disassociation, Depression.
A/N: Before you start readingâ 1. Man, after finalizing this chapter, I was the Ben Affleck meme outside, chain-smoking my sanity away. 2. Minors, DNI. Itâs not spicy, but seriously, donât ruin your innocence here. 3. Our reader is tough as nails, but damn, even I wouldnât wish this on my worst enemy. 4. Iâve sprinkled some links, a playlist, and a meme to lighten the vibe, but customize the vibe however you need. 5. Fair warning: the endingâs gonna hurt. If youâre not in the headspace for that, skip the parts marked with { }. Take care of yourself, okay? Letâs get wrecked together.
Previous Chapter 5 - Something Soft, Something Sharp (Tumblr/Ao3)
Chapter 6 (alt ending 1.2) - Veiled Realities
The gaming convention hall pulsed with energyâscreens flashing with gameplay demos from various companies, creative souls showcasing their cosplays, excited chatter bouncing off the high ceilings, and the occasional triumphant shout from someone winning a round. You kept your barely see-through-only for you-hood low, blending seamlessly with the crowd as you moved toward your companyâs booth. The email from your employee still sat in your inbox, her words playing on a loop in your mind:
âI wanted to bring to your attention a concerning issue that has been occurring within our team. Certain male employees have been engaging in inappropriate behavior towards their female colleagues, making comments that suggest women do not belong in the gaming industry.
Despite providing multiple rounds of workplace etiquette training, these individuals continue to make such remarks, often doing so after the training sessions have concluded. While we have attempted to address the situation discreetly, the behavior has persisted and is becoming increasingly problematic.
I felt it was important to make you aware of this issue, even if no immediate action is taken, as you are committed to fostering an inclusive and respectful work environment.â
You werenât about to let it slide.
Your gaze landed on your companyâs booth, where a small group had gathered. Two menâmid-forties, loud with unwarranted confidenceâwere smirking as they leaned toward a younger woman who stood stiffly, her arms crossed.
âCome on,â one of them said, his voice dripping with condescension. âYou canât even finish a round without dying. How are you going to tell us what to do?â
âYeah,â the other chimed in, his laugh grating. âWe're not sexist or anything, but gamingâs just not your thing. Stick to HR or something.â
You gritted your teeth, the instinct to step in bubbling beneath the surface. But you held back, watching as the woman squared her shoulders and prepared to fire back. Before she could, you pulled out your phone. With a few quick taps, an email was swiftly dispatched to the CHRO, with the COO, CSO, CMO, and the event coordinator all included in the loop for informational purposes.
The response from the CHRO came immediately: "Weâll start the off-boarding right away."
Within minutes, the two menâs phones buzzed simultaneously. They frowned, pulling them out, only for their faces to pale.
âWhat theââ
âFucking hell!â
They stared at their screens, then at each other, and finally back at the woman theyâd been harassing. âItâs youââ
Before they could finish, your voice cut through, calm. âYou have five minutes to vacate the premises, or security will escort you if needed.â
The woman blinked at you, her surprise quickly replaced by a smirk as the men stammered and shuffled off grumbling to gather their things. You turned away before she could say anything, your hood still obscuring your face.
Then a loud voice rang out. âNo, no, NO! Game broken! Is not me! Me loyal fan!â
Heads turned, including yours, to a really tall man with bright white hair and pale skin standing at the demo station, gesturing wildly at the screen. His coat hung loosely around his shoulders, and he wore dark sunglasses indoors. With his striking appearance, he could easily model for Giorgio Armani.
âMechanics! Broken! No strong! Me? Strongest!â he declared, his English so fractured and accented that it took you a moment to piece together what he was trying to say.
One of your employeesâa nervous-looking juniorâstammered, âUh⊠sir, maybe you just need more practice?â
The man looked personally offended. âMe beat curse! Me GOAT!â He paused, frowned, and then switched to rapid Japanese, clearly too frustrated to stick with English.
The junior blinked, helplessly lost. âUh⊠what?â
The woman who had been dealing with the earlier bullying snorted. âLooks like youâve got competition, Steve,â she muttered, glaring at her now ex-coworker as they left before turning to the man. âSir, maybe try again? Second roundâs free.â
âFree?â His face lit up like a Christmas town. âYay! Free! Strongest WIN!â
âStop embarrassing yourself,â came a calm, deep voice from behind him.
You tilted your neck to see another manâa tall figure, though not quite as towering as his counterpartâimpeccably dressed in black. Neatly styled blond hair framed his face. With his striking looks, he would make a perfect brand ambassador for Tom Ford or Bironi; he resembled a male Victoria's Secret model. Beneath his green-tinted glasses, his eyes flicked to the white-haired chaos generator with the resigned air of a pet parent.
The white-haired man turned to glare at him. âNo embarrassing! Winning!â
âWinning,â the blond deadpanned, glancing at the screen where the white-haired oneâs character had just been obliterated.
He pouted, muttering something in Japanese that sounded suspiciously like an insult, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.
The blond man sighed heavily and said something in Japanese. âSore wa gÄmudesu. Kojin-tekina fukushĆ«de wa arimasen.â (âItâs a game. Not a personal vendetta.â)
The white-haired one said something that the blond pointedly ignored. âSĆ, fukushĆ«da! Noroi o uchiyabutta. Subete o uchiyabutta, daga kono bakageta... Mekanikku dake wa!â (âYes, it is vendetta! I beat curses; I beat everything, but this stupid... mechanics!â)
Despite yourself, you couldnât help but find the menâs voices incredibly attractive, even though they were completely different from each otherâor was it the fact that they were speaking Japanese? Anyone with half a brain cell knew how undeniably masculine the language sounded.
âAnata to issho ni kurubekide wa nakatta to wakatte imashita.â The blond said, his tone clipped as he hovered by a different station, playing an older game in your companyâs lineupâone that hadnât done well financially but had won multiple awards and had a loyal following. (âI knew I shouldnât have come with you.â)
You werenât usually one to ogle men, but damn, the blond oneâs biceps looked very chewable. Underneath his overcoat, you could imagine them flexing as he moved his fingers on the keyboard.
You immediately cringed at your own thoughts and made a mental note to stop spending so much time with your unhinged employees.
The white-haired one ignored him. âMore round!â he yelled at the junior, who sighed and let him.
The man launched into another round, biting his lower lip in concentration like a child. Was that lip gloss?!
He was really close to perfecting the strike when the in-game AI learned his moves and took him down. He looked like he was about to cry, and you couldnât help but chuckle at how adorable he was.
The blondâs gaze shifted to you, his eyes narrowing slightly in recognitionâor perhaps suspicion. âYouâre enjoying yourself?â he asked, his English perfect, despite the accent.
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. âWhy wouldnât I be?â
The white-haired one suddenly perked up, finally noticing you. His eyes widened, and he jabbed a finger in your direction. âYou! Pretty hoodie lady! Play?â
Caught off guard, you blinked, face still obscured by the hood. âPlay what?â
âGame!â He gestured wildly at the screen. âStrongest win! You lose!â
The blond groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. âGojo, stop harassing strangers.â
âMe no harass! Me... invite!â The Gojo declared, beaming at you.
Against your better judgment, you stepped closer, curiosity outweighing caution.
The woman from earlier smirked, stepping up to the console. âOh, this is going to be good.â
âThink you better?â He grinned, clearly convinced he was about to crush you, then pointed at the blond. âNanamin, see me!â
âDonât call me that!â The blond spat at him, making you thinkâwas âNanaminâ a derogatory word in their language?
The blond furrowed his brow, his gaze flicking over you. Something about the way you carried yourself seemed⊠off. Not in a bad way, but something didnât fit in his mind.
You slid into the seat across from Gojo, the monitors facing the opposite way. âAlright, fine. Letâs see what the âstrongestâ has got.â
The first round was a blur of offensive movements and insultsâGojo threw out broken English mixed with Japanese, your focus entirely on the screen.
To your dismay, he was⊠good. Annoyingly good. Youâd come up with the idea and then tested this game for over 5,000 hours. You were basically omniscient in itâknew every trick and exploit, but Gojoâs reflexes and instincts were ridiculous.
So you cheated.
Subtly, of course.
A quick input enabled God Mode, giving you just enough of an edge to win the round.
Within minutes, Gojoâs smug grin crumbled as you utterly demolished him in-game, your hands moving with muscle memory.
The blond, who had been watching silently, let out a low chuckle. âLooks like youâve met your match, Gojo.â
Gojo froze, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. âYou cheat!â
You grinned, leaning back. âNo, Iâm just better,â you said smoothly, your voice calm. Inside, you panicked a little; he couldnât have possibly known; your screen wasnât facing him.
âYes! CHEAT! Me see!â He tapped his temple. âMuttsu no me! Me see!â Then he made a gesture that encompassed the whole planet with his long, troll-like arms. (âSix eyes.â)
You smirked, but before you could respond, the blond interjected. âGojo, youâre imagining things.â
âSĆzĆ janai yo! Kanojo wa hontĆni zuru o shita nda! Anata mo mitadesho. Eigo de itte!â Gojo gestured wildly at Nanami, who barely glanced at him. (âIâm NOT imagining! She literally just cheated! You saw it too. Say it in English!â)
âYouâre hallucinating,â the blond said flatly.
âI am NOT!â
âYes, you are. Youâre tired. No more video games; go sit down over there.â The blond had seen you cheat, but he wasnât letting the opportunity to embarrass Gojo pass.
Gojo sputtered, clearly betrayed, while you fought to keep a straight face.
âImpossible!â Gojo huffed at you, but there was no malice in his tone, only a kind of begrudging admiration. âYou⊠strong.â
You shrugged, pulling your hood up just enough to smile. âTold you.â
Gojoâs throat made a strangled sound that suspiciously resembled a mewl; he seemed like a nerd. âMe ahh Gojo Satoru. He Nanami Kento.â He pointed at the blond without looking away from you.
Nanamiâs eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable.
âSo, Gojo and Nanami are your names? I believe Japan has a different naming convention, right?â You asked, steering the conversation away to avoid revealing your own name. Surrounded by a crowd, you felt uneasy about receiving random CVs and taking selfies with men whose hands seemed to wander a bit too freely.
Nanami was caught off guard by your knowledge. âYou are correct. No, those are our surnames. He doesnât know much English.â
He continued eyeing you with a poker face. âI donât suppose youâd tell us your name?â
You scrambled to respond, giving them your gamer tag, which sounded surprisingly like a real name.
Gojo laughed, while Nanamiâs gaze remained fixed on you. âPardon my English, but I meant your real name.â He looked a bit smug as if saying, I-didnât-stutter.
Damn! They were too perceptive. âMaybe next time,â you said, already rising to your feet, turning on your heel, and slipping into the crowd before they could press further.
You could feel their eyes on you, with Nanamiâs gaze lingering the longest, as if he were piecing together a puzzle.
Later, after you walked out of the convention hall and made your way toward the food stalls, you couldnât help but smile to yourself. Youâd come to check on your team and ended up with a story youâd never forget.
Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was still at the booth, raving about the âmysterious hoodie ladyâ who was, in his words, âgaming goddess.â Nanami simply shook his head, filing away the memory of your smile for reasons he didnât fully understand.
Nanami commented, âWe never got her name.â
Gojo, beaming, muttered, âMe find her. Strongest reserves rematch.â
Nanami rubbed his temple. âItâs âdeserves.ââ
Gojo waved him off. âYa ya that!â
//
Hours later, you stepped outside to go home.
The alley was dimly lit, the faint glow of a flickering streetlamp casting long shadows against the brick walls. You tugged your hood tighter, the weight of the day settling heavily on your shoulders as you made your way through. Just as you reached the halfway point, angry voices broke the quiet, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps closing in.
âYou think you can fire us just like that?â One of the men sneered, his face twisted with rage as he stepped into view. His friend loomed beside him, cracking his knuckles with an air of smugness.
You stopped, turning slowly to face them. Your pulse quickened, but you kept your tone cold. âI donât think,â you replied, as you shifted into a defensive stance. âI know.â
The first man lunged, and you dodged, pivoting on your heel to avoid his clumsy attack. Your brain kicked into overdrive, calculating angles and weaknesses as you landed a solid kick to his shin, your heels digging in. He stumbled, cursing, but his friend was already charging at you.
You ducked, your fists up, but you werenât trained for this. They were bigger, stronger, and clearly fueled by rage. Damn it, you thought bitterly, wishing youâd waited for Megumiâor at least brought your security detail in regular clothes.
âHEY!â
The voice boomed down the alley, startling everyone. You froze mid-dodge, turning toward the source of the voice.
Gojo stood at the entrance, his white hair glowing faintly under the streetlamp. His grin feral, hands shoved casually into his pockets. âWhat this? Fight? Without me?â His English was awful, the words garbled but unmistakably confident.
Behind him, Nanami appeared with the air of someone ready to ruin someoneâs day. His eyes locked on the men, his expression grim. âLetâs divide and conquer.â
What followed was a masterclass in contrasts, a scene youâd replay in your mind for days.
Gojoâs opponent barely had time to process the incoming whirlwind before Gojo sidestepped his first punch with an exaggerated lean, one hand cupping his chin as if bored. âLoser shit,â he said.
The man swung again, and Gojo ducked low, popping up behind him like a magician revealing his latest trick. âTry harder! Or you go home?â His English faltered, and he switched to Japanese mid-sentence, gesturing at the alleyâs exit.
Frustrated, the man lunged, but Gojo pivoted effortlessly, his movements mocking. âAh-ah!â he teased, flicking the manâs forehead with enough force to send him faltering back. He could have actually flicked him through the wall, but he was trying to impress you, not terrify you. Then, with a theatrical spin, he delivered a sharp kick to the back of the manâs knees, sending him crashing to the ground.
âStrongest wins!â Gojo declared triumphantly as the man groaned in pain.
Meanwhile, Nanami was a study in calm brutality. His opponent came at him swinging, fists wild and uncoordinated. Nanami stepped to the side, his movements smooth, allowing the manâs momentum to carry him forward.
The attacker stumbled, and Nanami seized the opportunity. A precise jab to the spine sent the man gasping, doubling over in pain. Without missing a beat, Nanami delivered a swift knee to the stomach, his face utterly impassive as his opponent crumpled to the ground.
âPathetic,â he muttered, adjusting his collar with indifference.
Within moments, both men were on the ground, groaning and defeated as the securityâwhoâd arrived mid-fightâdragged them away.
Gojo glanced over at Nanami. âWhy so serious, Nanamin?!â
Nanami shot him a flat look. That was the only phrase Gojo knew properly.
Gojo turned to you, his grin impossibly wide. âHoodie lady! You okay?â
You adjusted your hood, making sure your face stayed hidden, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. âIâm fine. Thanks.â
Nanami stepped closer, his gaze lingering on you with quiet intensity. âYou shouldnât be out here alone,â he said, his tone edged with concern.
âI can handle myself,â you replied, though your voice softened.
âClearly,â Nanami said, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a notification from your ride. âWell, thanks again for saving me.â
You turned to leave, but Gojo moved faster than you could anticipate, stepping into your space with a speed that made your heart skip. He leaned in, his face far too close as he tilted his head, his eyes still obscured by the ridiculous sunglasses. âName,â he demanded, his tone expectant.
âGojo,â Nanami barked, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking him back. âControl yourself.â
You couldnât help but chuckle softly, still obscured by your barely see-through hood.
Well, they did save you, and no one was around right now, but they could be stalkers. So you only told them your nickname, essentially half your first name.
Gojo repeated it, his accent thick as he rolled the syllables around in his mouth like a taste he wanted to savor. Nanami echoed it under his breath, committing it to memory with far more subtlety. You had never loved your name more.
Gojo clapped his hands together, his grin as bright as the streetlamp above. âOkaaay, now us food! You come us!â
You blinked at him, bewildered.
Nanami immediately choked, âMy apologies, my colleague means, would you like to join us for dinner?â
You laughed, shaking your head. âMaybe next time. My grumpy ride is here.â
Before they could argue, you slipped past them as the soft hum of a sleek black Maserati cut through the alleyâs quiet. The car glided to a stop, the sharp lines of its body catching the faint light from the streetlamp. The door opened smoothly, revealing a young Japanese man with sea urchin spiky black hair and a scowl sharp enough to rival Nanamiâs deadliest glare.
He stepped out, his tailored suit pristine despite the late hour. His deep blue eyes swept over the scene, narrowing slightly as they landed on Gojo and Nanami. There was no mistaking the barely contained irritation in his expression as he glared daggers at the two men.
You smiled faintly as you approached and side-hugged him; his gaze softened, though the crease in his brow remained.
âYouâre late,â he muttered, holding the door open for you. His English and accent perfectly matched yours, so Gojo deduced he definitely hadnât lived in Japan much.
âYouâre crabby,â you replied, sliding into the passenger seat.
âI wouldnât be if you didnât insist on wandering into alleys like this,â he said, his tone exasperated but tinged with familiarity. He cast one last glance at Gojo and Nanami, his lips curling slightly in what could only be described as a warning.
âWait... you sent the security?â You asked, tone surprised.
âYes.â He clipped, tone not revealing much. Youâd later learn that the men whoâd tried to hit you disappeared under mysterious circumstances after tonight. When you asked Megumi, heâd just glare at you and mutter about not having time to look into freeloaders.
Gojo tilted his head, his six eyes narrowing as he watched the interaction with growing curiosity. Nanami too had his gaze locked on the Maserati as the young man slipped back into the driverâs seat. The way his hand lingered on the steering wheel, his face scanning you for injuries. His head tilted slightly toward you as you spoke, suggesting something closer than casual acquaintance.
Nanami thought of looking you or the young man up on LinkedIn only to realize he never actually saw your face or knew the manâs name.
As the car pulled away, the faint glow of the interior lights illuminated your face behind the dark-tinted windows for just a moment. Gojoâs grin widened as he caught a glimpse of your smile, and Nanamiâs eyes narrowed as he committed the fleeting image to memory for some reason he still didnât understand.
Gojoâs eyes remained fixed on you as the guy driving whisked you away, scolding you for not waiting for him.
Nanami was also watching your retreating car in the distance. His thoughts lingered on the brief glimpse of your smileâthe only part of you theyâd truly seen. âBoyfriend?â He asked.
Gojo smirked, âYou are awfully curious today, Nanamin.â Switching back to Japanese.
âJust answer the question.â
âIâm actually not sure. But the boy is a Zen'in; interestingly enough, the oneâs father I killed before Suguru ran away.â
Gojoâs smile widened as you removed the hood from your face a few meters away. He had never been more grateful for his six eyes.
Good. He had a face now.
He clapped Nanami on the back. âHoodie lady is full of surprises.â
Nanamiâs expression remained unreadable. âYou donât even know her full name.â
Gojoâs grin only widened. âIâll find her.â
Little did you know you had just met your future husbands.
//
After ensuring a safe distance between you and the men heâd encountered, your best friend turned to you, his expression serious. âStay away from those two; they are sorcerers.â
"But aren't you?"
He immediately cut you off, "I only share the bloodline nothing else. You know what sorcerers did to my father. Besides, I think it was one of them."
You understood the weight of Megumiâs words, but you also knew why his father had been killed. It wasnât because sorcerers were inherently dangerous, but because he had been too much of a thrill-seeker. âYou do realize Iâm not your child, right? Iâm older than you.â
âWell, thatâs too damn bad, Grandma.â
âHeyy!â
He chuckled to himself, but the laughter quickly faded as he asked, âWhat did they want with you anyway?â He was trying hard not to let you know he was probing.
âNothing. They just wanted to know my name, and I kept dodging it with pseudonyms. Then they asked me to dinner, and I told them next time. But you donât have to worry about it. I donât think Iâd ever see them again.â You said this absentmindedly, focused on ordering takeout on your phone before you arrived home.
âGood. Keep it that way. Donât entertain them again.â
âItalian?â you asked, trying to shift the conversation.
âGet that Spinach and Broccoli Alfredo from that small place. Put it on my card.â He liked the dish, but it wasnât his go-to for special occasions; it was yours.
âAww, whatâs the occasion?â
âYou almost getting beaten up.â
You scowled at him.
âRelax. Iâm just making sure youâre okay, or my father will resurrect himself and beat my ass.â He laughed, but there was an edge to his humor.
You thought of the men for a few days, their faces lingering in your mind, but you quickly moved on with your hectic life. You were determined not to let Megumi down. He didnât have many friends besides you that heâd hang out with, let alone have around with his mom, and with his dad gone, heâd never recover from the betrayal if something happened to you.
But when had you ever listened to Megumi?
Today, you wished you had.
--
After theyâd left you alone, the days bled together in a haze of exhaustion and dread. You busied yourself with the mundane tasks of preparing for the twins, folding impossibly tiny clothes, and arranging bottles on the counter like talismans against the pain threatening to consume you. Sukuna had been true to his word, filling the gaps with his presence and resources, but even his towering strength couldnât shield you from the memories.
Each kick, each flutter, was a visceral reminder of the life growing inside youâa life you were determined to protect. Yet, every movement felt like a betrayal, a reminder of the faces you couldnât erase. Gojoâs sharp grin, dulled now by sorrow. Nanamiâs stoicism, cracking under the weight of his regret. They haunted you, their voices whispering in the silence of your nights, their hands ghosting over your skin in dreams that turned to nightmares.
One evening, Sukuna returned, his silhouette framed by the doorway. He carried bags of groceries, the muscles in his arms flexing as he set them down with more care than you thought him capable of. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by something foreign: concern.
âYouâre wearing yourself thin,â he said, his voice rough but quiet. His crimson eyes swept over you, lingering on the trembling in your hands as you folded a onesie.
âIâm fine,â you muttered, though the lie sat heavy in your chest.
âPrincess,â he said again, softer now, and the nickname cracked something inside you. âYouâre not fine.â
Your hands froze mid-fold, the fabric slipping from your fingers. The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in. âI donât know how to do this,â you whispered, your voice breaking.
Sukuna crossed the room in three strides, his arms encircling you. His touch was firm, grounding, and you let yourself lean into him. âYouâre doing it,â he murmured against your hair. âAnd youâre not alone.â
But the words couldnât reach the hollow ache inside you.
//
The next day, the soft knock at the door was more polite than usual, almost hesitant. Sukuna didnât wait for you to answerâhe never did; he never even knockedâbut this time, he lingered in the doorway, his hulking frame lit by the warm glow of the sunlight filtering in through the window. His expression was unreadable, though the faintest flicker of something nervous passed through his crimson eyes.
In his hands, he held a large box, haphazardly wrapped in crinkled newspaper and secured with what looked like electrical tape.
âWhat is that?â You asked, narrowing your eyes.
He grunted, stepping inside and setting the box down on the coffee table with a thud. âItâs for them,â he said, jerking his chin toward your stomach.
You blinked, thrown off by the unexpected gesture. âYou got them⊠a gift?â
He shot you a glare, defensive already. âDonât make it weird. Itâs not a big deal.â
Your curiosity got the better of you, and you shuffled over to the box, careful to lower yourself onto the couch. Sukuna watched, his arms crossed over his chest, as you peeled back the layers of tape and newspaper.
Inside was chaos.
A mishmash of items tumbled outâtwo tiny leather jackets, complete with spikes on the shoulders; a set of Blobfish plushies; and what could only be described as baby-sized combat boots, polished to a mirror shine.
Your jaw dropped. âSukuna⊠what the hell is this?â
He shrugged, his smirk returning, though it was softer than usual. âGear. For when theyâre old enough to not embarrass me.â
You couldnât stop the laugh that bubbled up, loud and uncontrollable. It startled even you, breaking through the thick fog of grief and exhaustion that had clung to you for days. âSpiked leather jackets? Combat boots? What are they, tiny bikers?â
âTheyâre going to be strong,â he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he dropped onto the armchair across from you. âMight as well dress the part.â
You shook your head, still laughing as you held up one of the jackets. It was absurdly small, the spikes dulled for safety. âThis is so extra.â
âYouâre welcome,â he shot back, though the faint twitch of his lips betrayed his satisfaction at your reaction.
You set the jacket down, your laughter fading into a softer smile. âYou didnât have to do this.â
Sukuna leaned back, his gaze locking onto yours with a rare intensity. âI know,â he said simply.
For a moment, the room was quiet, the air between you charged with something unspoken. He broke the silence first, waving a hand toward the mess of items on the table. âIâm not saying theyâll ever use this crap. Just⊠figured it might make you laugh.â
Your chest tightened, the ache of loss mingling with something warmer, something unfamiliar. âIt did,â you admitted, your voice softer now.
âGood.â He stood abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. âIâll pick up something more normal next time. Maybe. Only if you drink enough water.â
You laughed again, shaking your head. âPlease donât. This is perfect.â
Sukunaâs smirk widened as he swaggered toward the door. Just before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder, and said, âIâm not going anywhere, Princess.â
In a moment that could only be described as peak Sukuna, he turned to make his grand exit, only for his nose to collide with the door frame with a resounding thud.
âStupid... who put this here?â He grumbled, rubbing his nose furiously as if it were the doorâs fault for existing. You couldnât help but burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the room like a cackling hyena.
âMaybe itâs a sign you should start ducking!â You teased, and he shot you a look that was half annoyed, half amused, like a cat that had just been splashed with water, but it was warm.
âIâll just buy a bigger door!â He retorted, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation.
With that, he turned to leave again, but not before bumping his head against the door frame once more, muttering, âThis door is clearly out to get me.â You couldnât help but laugh even harder.
And then he was gone, leaving you surrounded by the absurdity heâd brought with him. You looked down at the tiny jackets and boots, your hand resting on your stomach as the twins stirred softly. Maybe your laughing did calm them.
//
Same night, your bedroom was cold, the soft glow of a nightlight casting shadows that seemed to shift with your every movement. You slept in the center of the room, one hand resting on your swollen belly. The twins kicked softly, their presence grounding and tormenting you in equal measure.
The guilt was a living thing, coiled tight around your chest. Sukuna had done everythingâmore than you could have asked forâbut the lie youâd spun had fangs. Each day, it bit deeper, carving wounds you couldnât heal.
You woke screaming, clutching your stomach as panic clawed at your throat. Sukuna was there in an instant, his hands steady on your shoulders, his voice sharp and commanding. âWhat is it?â
âTheyâre going to take them,â your voice raw and broken. âTheyâll find a way.â
âNo oneâs taking anything,â his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that should have comforted you. But the storm inside you raged on.
âYou donât know them,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âTheyâll stop at nothing.â
Sukuna cupped your face, his touch surprisingly gentle in his large hands. âThey wonât get near you. Not while Iâm here.â
But his words were like whispers against a hurricane. You turned away, your gaze falling to the crib, its bars a reminder of the prison youâd built around your heart.
âIâll protect you,â you murmured to the twins, your hands trembling as you traced the curve of your stomach. âEven if it kills me.â
The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence heavy and oppressive.
âI wonât let you die.â Sukuna whispered. You turned to look at him only to be kissed by him on your temple. It wasnât anything passionate; it was as if he was sealing a promise.
//
The next morning, you shuffled into the living room, your back aching from another restless night. The twins had been unusually active, their cursed energyâor at least what you deduced was cursed energyâpressing against your insides like waves crashing against fragile glass. Youâd woken up drenched in sweat, the faint outline of one of their hands or feet briefly visible under your skin before retreating into the shadows of your body. It was horrifying and beautiful, and you hated that you didnât know how to feel about it.
Sukuna was already in the living room, sitting on the floor, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced up as you entered, his crimson eyes scanning you like he could read every thought you were trying to suppress.
âYou look worse than usual,â he said, his voice cutting but not cruel.
âThanks,â you muttered, dropping onto the couch with a wince.
He didnât respond right away, just set his cup down, straightened and stretched, his maroon hoodie riding up, revealing markings on his stomach. He watched you with an expression you couldnât quite place. Despite being on the floor, he was somehow on eye level with you.
After a moment, he stood and disappeared into the kitchen. You didnât have the energy to ask what he was doing.
When he returned, he was holding a glass of water and a small bowl filled with neatly peeled and cut fruit. He handed them to you without a word, his hand lingering for a moment as you took the bowl.
âEat,â he said simply, sitting back down on the floor in front of you.
You stared at the fruit. âYou didnât have toââ
âStop,â he interrupted, his tone firm. âJust eat.â
You did, the sweet and sourness of the fruits grounding you. Sukuna watched, his gaze flicking between your face and your stomach.
After a while, he spoke again, his voice softer. âYou hate looking at yourself, donât you?â
Your breath caught; you definitely had a type. Type that kept seeing through your lies!
You didnât answer, but the way you looked away was answer enough.
Sukuna shifted closer, resting his forearms on his knees. âCan I?â
You frowned, unsure. âWhy?â
âJust trust me, Princess,â he said, his smirk faint but not unkind.
Reluctantly, you let him. His hands moved to your baby balloon, his touch firm but careful, soothing you as he pressed his palms against the curve.
âFeel that?â he murmured as one of the twins shifted beneath his hand, the movement almost shy.
You nodded, your throat tight.
âTheyâre strong,â he said, his voice steady. âThey know youâre protecting them.â
Another flutter beneath your skin, this one softer, more deliberate. Sukunaâs hands didnât move, his warmth radiating through you like a shield against the chill that had settled in your bones.
âYouâre not broken,â he said after a moment, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. âAnd youâre not alone in this.â
âYou sure are comfortable touching them now.â You teased.
He snorted. âAnd here I thought I was helping you feel better.â
You laughed and closed your eyes as the twins settled, their energy calming under the weight of his words. The war inside you felt a little less unbearable.
//
A few days later, the apartment was warm, sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds and landing in soft streaks across the living room floor. You sat on the couch, one hand absently resting on your stomach while the other scrolled through your phone. You werenât looking at anything in particular, just trying to distract yourself from the relentless ache in your lower back and the twinsâ ongoing UFC match in your uterus.
Sukuna walked in, carrying a bag of groceries like it was filled with feathers as usual. His broad shoulders filled the doorway as he kicked it shut behind him. He looked at you, then at the untouched snack bowl on the coffee table, then back at you.
âYou didnât eat the strawberries I cut,â he said flatly, setting the bag down.
âI wasnât hungry,â you replied without looking up.
âYouâre always hungry,â he shot back, folding his arms.
You finally glanced up at him, raising a brow. âMaybe Iâm evolving.â
He snorted, dropping onto the armchair across from you. âYeah, into a cranky gargoyle. Whatâs up with you today?â
âNothing,â you said quickly, your tone too breezy.
His eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. âBullshit.â
You sighed, setting your phone down. âIâm fine, Sukuna. Canât a woman just sit in peace without being interrogated?â
âNot when that womanâs got two cursed powerhouses doing cartwheels inside her,â he replied, his smirk faint but pointed.
You rolled your eyes, leaning back against the couch. âIâm just tired, okay?â
He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes flicking to your stomach, then back to your face.
âYouâre not tired,â he said finally, his voice quieter. âYou feel weird. About your body.â
Your head snapped up, your mouth opening to protest, but he cut you off with a raised hand.
âDonât even try to deny it,â he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. âYouâre confident, sure. Youâre also human. Youâre carrying their demon spawns, and itâs messing with your head. Iâd feel weird too.â
You blinked, thrown off by the bluntness of his words. âThatâs⊠not exactly how Iâd put it.â
âWhatever,â he said, waving a hand dismissively. âPoint is, youâre not as slick as you think you are, Princess.â
You stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or be offended. âAnd what, youâre here to be my body image coach now?â
âVery perceptive of you,â he said, standing abruptly. He grabbed the bag of groceries and pulled out a tub of chocolate ice cream and a loaf of bread. Even your cravings werenât original from your husbands.
âWhat are you doing?â you asked, watching in bemusement as he started slathering jam on a slice of bread.
âMaking you a snack,â he replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. âPickle and peanut butter sandwich. Ice cream chaser. Donât knock it till you try it.â
âThatâs disgusting,â you said, wrinkling your nose.
âYeah, well, soâs the idea of that white-haired one being someoneâs dad, but here we are,â he quipped, tossing the sandwich onto a plate and handing it to you.
You stared at the monstrosity, then at him. âThis is your solution to my body issues? Weird snacks?â
âNo,â he said, sitting back down and gesturing at you with a flourish. âMy solution is this: youâre hot, youâre badass, and if anyone says otherwise, Iâll break their spine. But youâre also you, which means youâre allowed to feel weird about turning into a walking incubator for two special-grade cursed-energy gremlins. Doesnât mean youâre less of anything.â
You blinked. âThatâs⊠oddly sweet.â
âI aim to please,â he grumbled, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. âNow eat the sandwich before I change my mind.â
You laughed, taking a tentative bite of the pickle-peanut butter monstrosity. It was terrible, but for some reason, it made you feel a little better.
//
The next day, the air was crisp, the kind of weather that made the leaves crunch underfoot and the sunlight feel softer. Sukuna strolled beside you, a reusable shopping bag slung over his shoulder like a fashion statement, his other hand steadying you as you waddled along the cobblestone path of the farmerâs market, your face obscured by a large mask. The twins had been kicking non-stop since breakfast, and your back felt like it was holding the weight of the world.
âI donât know why you dragged me here,â you muttered, squinting at a stall of overpriced honey jars.
âBecause youâve been sulking for days,â Sukuna replied, smirking. âAnd Iâm tired of watching you fold tiny clothes and cry about it.â
Before you could retort, he veered off toward a stall selling baby onesies, grabbing one with a print of a cartoon goat that read Mommyâs Little Terror. He held it up, raising a brow. âThis fits their vibe.â
You snorted despite yourself. âTheyâre not even born yet, and youâre assigning them a vibe?â
âYeah,â he said, tossing it into the bag. âAnd this.â He grabbed another onesie, this one pink and emblazoned with Future World Domination Leader.
You laughed, leaning on his arm for support as the twins shifted again. Sukuna noticed immediately, crouching slightly to meet your eyes. âTired?â
âA little,â you admitted, though your body screamed a lot.
Without a word, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm under your knees and the other supporting your back. âWhat are youâput me down!â
âShut up, Princess,â he said, grinning as heads turned to stare at the giant man carrying a visibly and heavilyâmaybe too heavilyâpregnant woman like she weighed nothing. âYouâll thank me later.â
An older woman at a nearby stall clasped her hands together, her face lighting up. âOh, isnât he just wonderful? So attentive!â
Sukuna didnât miss a beat. âYeah, Iâm pretty great,â he said, flashing her a cocky grin. âMy wifeâs a champ, though. Carrying our twins and still managing to look this bewitching.â
You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder. âStoppp.â
He ignored you, turning his attention to the woman. âIâm so proud of her. Sheâs going to be an amazing birthgiver.â
The woman beamed, clearly swooning. âYouâre both so lucky!â
âYeah,â Sukuna said, his voice softening just enough for only you to hear. âI am.â
//
Later that week, Sukuna insisted on taking you grocery shopping. You protested, but he ignored you as usual, guiding you through the aisles with a hand on your lower back.
âPickles?â he asked, holding up a jar with a raised brow.
You nodded, reaching for it, but he pulled it back. âWhatâs the magic word?â
âAre you serious?â
âDeadly.â
âFine,â you huffed. âPlease.â
He handed it over with a smug grin. âSee? Was that so hard?â
At the checkout, the cashierâa young woman with doe eyesâcouldnât stop glancing at Sukuna, her cheeks pink as she scanned the items.
âThese pickles,â she started, clearly searching for a conversation starter. âA craving?â
Sukuna nodded solemnly. âYeah. Sheâs eating for three, and Iâm eating for stress.â
You choked on a laugh, swatting his arm. âDonât listen to him.â
The cashier giggled nervously, her eyes lingering on Sukuna a moment too long. He didnât even notice, too busy helping you into your coat and carrying all the bags in one hand like they weighed air.
Outside, you leaned against him, your feet aching. âYou didnât have to do all of that.â
He smirked, draping an arm around your shoulders. âSure I did. Itâs my job to keep you entertained.â
//
A couple of days later, at the park, Sukuna insisted on renting a swan paddle boat âfor the twins.â The boat was comically small for his frame, his knees practically up to his chest as he paddled with exaggerated effort and heavy breaths.
âWhy are we doing this?â you asked, trying not to laugh.
âBecause I like suffering,â he said, glaring at the water like it had personally offended him.
He was doing it for you, to make you laugh as much as possible.
Then when you finally broke into giggles, he grinned, satisfied.
//
That night, when you struggled to sleep, Sukuna sat by your bed, massaging pain-relieving oils into your swollen ankles with surprising care. His hands were rough but gentle, his expression focused.
âYou donât have to do this,â you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion.
He glanced up, his crimson eyes softer than youâd ever seen. âI know,â he said simply, his hands never faltering.
You fell asleep to the sound of his low, rumbling voice, humming an off-key lullaby heâd probably made up on the spot. His humming seemed to soothe the twins into no-cartwheeling sleep, which helped you relax for the night.
Sukuna never thought he could be perfect, but in those moments, he was everything you needed.
//
The next day, the yoga studio smelled faintly of lavender and freshly cleaned mats. Sukuna walked in beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. His crimson eyes swept over the room, narrowing slightly at the women who turned to gawk. He helped you settle onto your mat with the kind of careful attention that seemed absurd coming from someone like him, crouching to adjust the pillow beneath your knees before straightening to his full, towering height.
The murmurs started immediately. Low at first, barely audible, but growing louder with every second. You could feel the weight of their stares pressing against your skin, even through the mask you wore to keep a low profile.
Sukuna noticed too. His gaze darkened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darted across the room. âWhatâs their problem?â he muttered under his breath.
You tried to ignore it, focusing on your breathing as the instructor began leading the class through stretches. But the whispers didnât stop.
âSheâs the one,â someone hissed, loud enough to reach your ears.
âCarrying twins,â another added, voice dripping with disdain.
You clenched your fists, your nails biting into your palms. Sukunaâs head snapped toward the source of the voices, his expression hardening.
And then, of course, Karen appeared.
She strode across the room, her leggings pulled so high they might as well have been a second ribcage. Her smirk was cruel as she stopped in front of you.
The room went quiet. She loomed over youâas you were sitting on the floorâher arms crossed, her expression smug. âWhatâs it like being the talk of the internet? The woman who couldnât keep her men in line?â
You felt Sukuna tense beside you, his hand twitching at his side. You placed a hand on his arm, silently telling him to hold back. âIâm here to practice yoga, not entertain you.â
Karenâs smirk widened, her gaze flicking over you like you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. âPractice yoga? Thatâs rich. You mean parading around with your âfake husbandâ after your other two clowns beat people up? Gave people permanent injuries?â
Then she turned to Sukuna and continued, âOh, I knew for a fact you were a chum who got stuck with her. I was right, and you lied.â
You kept your grip on Sukunaâs arm firm. You spoke calmly but firm. âWatch your mouth! First of all, donât bring Sukuna into this. Second, I was the one holding them back. I didnât incite it. I kept my employees alive that day.â
Karenâs gaze swept over you, landing on your stomach, clearly not ready to back off. âHonestly, itâs impressive,â she continued, her tone dripping with mockery. âFirst, you marry two men, and then you end up with him?â
Sukunaâs growl was low and guttural, his towering frame eclipsing hers. âWatch it.â
âKaren,â you yelled, âyou donât know anything about my life. You donât know what Iâve been through, what Iâve survived.â
âSurvived?â Karen scoffed. âYou mean you survived your âunnatural waysâ coming out in front of the entire world? Or is it surviving the fact that no one takes you seriously anymore?â
âSukuna,â you said, your voice lowering. âLetâs just go.â
Your stomach was churning, the weight of her words sinking in like lead. Sukunaâs hand rested lightly on you, grounding you, but even his presence couldnât shield you from the growing stares around the room.
Karen stepped closer, looming over you, invading your personal space. It felt as though she might resort to physical violence with you at any moment. Her voice dropped, but the venom in her tone remained unmistakable. âPeople are calling you a sex addict, you know. Canât say I blame them. Married to two men, pregnant with God knows whoâs kids, and now cozying up to him?â She sneered. âYouâre not just a scandalâyouâre a disgrace. You canât live without dick can you! What now? Youâll add him to your harem too, you whore! If I were in your place, I would have killed myself!â
The words hit like daggers, each one twisting deeper. Your breath caught, but before you could respond, Sukuna moved.
It happened in an instant.
You gasped, âRyo!â
The slap cracked through the studio like a thunderclap, silencing the room. Karen stumbled, clutching her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
Sukuna loomed over her, his towering frame casting a shadow that swallowed her whole. His voice was low, a growl that rumbled through the silence. âSay one more word, and Iâll make sure you never speak again.â
Karenâs confidence crumbled instantly, her wide-eyed shock betraying the venom sheâd spewed moments ago. She glanced around the room, searching for someoneâanyoneâto come to her defense, but the silence was deafening. The other mothers avoided her gaze, their expressions a mix of discomfort and quiet satisfaction.
Her husband wasnât there, of course. Heâd finally had enough of her tirades, her endless need to dominate every room she walked into. The divorce papers had already been filed, and his absence spoke louder than any words ever could. Karen, with her toxic cocktail of insecurity and unchecked cruelty, had been left with nothing but her bitterness.
She didnât belong here. She wasnât pregnant and had no intention of ever being so. For years, sheâd come to these classes not to bond or prepare for motherhood but to belittle and bully anyone she deemed weaker. She was a relic of high school, clinging to the power she once wielded over others, desperate to make someone else feel smaller to distract from her own failures.
Today, you had been her target. Her divorce had clearly left her hellbent on tearing someone else down, and she mightâve succeededâshe mightâve even turned to violenceâif Sukuna hadnât intervened. You were glad Sukuna didnât see gender while serving people their karma.
Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to standâor try to. A sharp cramp shot through your side, stealing your breath. You stumbled, clutching your stomach as the twins shifted violently.
Sukuna caught you before you could fall, his hands steadying you as he glared at Karen.
His growl cut through the silence. âWeâre leaving,â he said, his voice cold and final.
He didnât move at first, his glare fixed on Karen like a wolf deciding whether the hunt was worth it, like debating whether she deserved another hit.
Finally, he relented, his muscles relaxing as he focused on you. âIâll get you a private instructor,â he added, his tone softening as he looked at you.
The twins stirred. Pain shot through your abdomen, and you gasped, clutching at Sukunaâs shirt.
âHang on,â he muttered, his voice softening as he carried you out of the studio.
Behind you, Karen stood frozen, her face pale and her cheek still burning red. No one moved to comfort her. No one even looked at her. The only sound in the room was the quiet creak of the door as it closed behind you.
//
Once in the car, you buried your face in his chest, your breathing erratic. He held you close, his large hand stroking your hair awkwardly but gently.
âDonât listen to them,â he said, his voice firm but uncharacteristically tender. âOnly you know the truth. Only you know what you went through and how you survived.â
//
The ride home was quiet. Sukuna carried you inside, settling you on the couch with the kind of gentleness that made your chest ache.
But the silence stretched on, and the weight of Karenâs words pressed down on you like a vice. The twins shifted again, their energy erratic, feeding off your turmoil.
âIâm sorry,â you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Sukuna crouched in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees. âDonât,â he said firmly. âDonât apologize for insecure humans.â
You nodded, but the hollow ache in your chest didnât ease.
As the hours passed, you found yourself staring out the window, the city lights blurring as tears filled your eyes.
Sukuna stayed close, his presence steady but silent. When the tears finally came, hot and unrelenting, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as you cried.
And though he didnât say it, his arms were a fortress around you as the world outside kept spinning, cruel and unforgiving. He silently vowed that no one would ever hurt you again.
//
Days after that, the silence that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe. You sat curled up on the couch, an old photo clutched tightly in your hands. It was worn at the edges, the glossy finish dulled from countless times youâd held it. In it, Gojo was grinning, his arm slung lazily over Nanamiâs shoulders. You were in the middle, laughing at something you couldnât remember now, your face lit with a happiness that felt like it belonged to someone else. The pain it brought was sharp, raw, an open wound that refused to heal no matter how much time passed.
Maybe you didnât love them anymoreânot in the way you once had. That love had been replaced by something darker, heavier. But the ache of what theyâd done to you, the way theyâd left you to drown in your own loneliness while they found comfort in each other⊠it consumed you.
You didnât hear Sukuna until he was standing in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway.
âWhy do you keep doing this to yourself?â he asked, his voice softer than usual but still carrying that edge of exasperation.
You startled, quickly tucking the photo under your thigh. âIâm not doing anything.â
His crimson eyes narrowed, and he crossed the room in two strides, crouching down in front of you. âDonât lie to me, Princess. Youâre terrible at it.â
You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. âI just⊠I donât know. Maybe I shouldnât have left.â
The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they were out before you could stop them. Sukunaâs expression shifted to something unreadable.
âYouâre joking,â he said, his voice flat.
âIâm not,â you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. âI mean, they didnât care about me, not really, but⊠I still left, and so much happened. People got hurt.â
âYou kept the people alive!â Sukuna said, his tone sharper now. He leaned closer, his crimson eyes boring into yours. âYou walked away because they didnât deserve you.â
You shook your head, the tears falling faster now. âWhat if I made a mistake? What if I shouldâve tried harder? Maybe none of this would have happened.â
âStop,â Sukuna snapped, his voice cutting through your spiral. He grabbed your chin gently but firmly, forcing you to look at him. âDo you really think that despite one of them having the gift of six eyes, if he still couldnât see the life growing inside you, they wouldnât have taken you for granted through the pregnancy as well?! Theyâre the ones who fucked up. Not you. They had youâyouâand they chose to ignore you. Thatâs on them, not you.â
The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, but the doubt still lingered. âButââ
âNo,â he interrupted, his thumb brushing against your jaw in a soft gesture. âNo âbut.â You didnât leave because you stopped loving them. You left because they stopped showing you they loved you.â
His words cracked something in you, like an old vase you never saw but always sensed the presence of in your heartâs home.
You let out a shaky breath, the photo slipping from your lap and landing face-up on the couch. Sukuna glanced at it, his jaw tightening for a moment before he reached for it. He studied it silently, his thumb brushing over your smiling face.
âThey didnât deserve this version of you,â he said, his voice low. âAnd they sure as hell donât deserve the you now.â
The warmth in his words, the unguarded softness, made your heart ache in a different way. He handed the photo back to you, his hand lingering over yours for a moment.
âIâm not saying itâll stop hurting,â he admitted, his crimson eyes meeting yours. âBut donât waste your time wondering if you shouldâve stayed. You didnât leave for no reason. Remember the past version of yourself in that exact moment when everything was crumbling around you. What you felt. Donât put yourself through that.â
You nodded, the weight in your chest easing just slightly. Sukuna stood, offering you his hand. âCome on,â he said, his smirk returning faintly. âYouâve been crying for hours. Let me make you something to eat before you wither away. Besides, you deserve better. Better than them. Better than what they gave you.â
Then smugly added, âSomeone as amazing as me.â
Despite yourself, you laughed softly, taking his hand.
//
The first signs came like whispers in the darkâa sharp, fleeting twinge low in your abdomen, a dull ache spreading like ripples in water. You brushed it off as stress, convincing yourself it was nothing.
But Sukuna noticed. He always noticed.
His crimson eyes tracked your every move, narrowing at the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your hand lingering on your belly a beat too long.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked.
âNothing,â you lied, forcing a smile.
His gaze hardened, the muscle in his jaw ticking. âYouâre a terrible liar, Princess.â
That evening, as you struggled to stand after dinner, a sharp gasp escaped your lips. Sukuna was at your side in an instant, his large hand steadying you.
âThatâs it,â he said, his voice brooking no argument. âWeâre going to the hospital.â
You tried to protest, but the look in his eyes silenced you.
// Music
{The hospital was cold, sterile as usual. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting harsh shadows on the linoleum floors. The smell of antiseptic clung to everything, making your stomach churn.
You sat on the examination table, the thin paper gown sticking uncomfortably to your skin. The room felt too bright, too exposed. Sukuna sat beside you, his broad frame dwarfing the small plastic chair. His expression was unreadable, but his hand rested on his knee, the tension in his fingers betraying his calm façade. The fake husband playing the role perfectly.
The doctor entered, her face carefully neutral, but you caught the hesitation in her movements.
âLetâs take a look,â she said, her tone professional but soft.
The ultrasound gel was cold against your skin, and the room silent except for the faint hum of the machine. You stared at the monitor, waiting for the familiar sound of their heartbeats.
But the silence stretched on.
The doctorâs brow furrowed, her hand pausing over the probe.
âWhat is it?â Sukunaâs voice was tense.
The doctor hesitated, her hand hovering over the ultrasound machine as though the pause could soften the blow. Her eyes flicked to you, then back to the screen, her expression unreadable.
âIâm⊠not detecting a heartbeat.â
The words knocked the air from your lungs.
âNo,â the denial spilling out before you could think. Your voice trembled, barely audible. âNo, thatâs not right. They were moving. Just yesterday. I felt them. I was craving pickles, and I had really bad back pain too; they were moving so much.â
The doctorâs face was heavy with sympathy as she set the probe down. âIâm so sorry.â
You shook your head, the room tilting around you. Your hand flew to your stomach, pressing against the curve as if your touch could summon them back, as if you could will them to respond. âThey canât be gone,â you choked out, your voice breaking.
The doctor took a breath, her voice steady but clinical, as if detachment could lessen the cruelty of what she had to say. âItâs an extraordinarily rare caseâheteropaternal superfecundation combined with double fertilization. Their development was⊠incompatible with life.â
The medical jargon felt cruel, meaningless. Just noise.
Sukunaâs hand found yours, his grip firm, grounding, but it only highlighted how far away you felt. It made it real. His jaw was clenched, his crimson eyes darker than youâd ever seen, but he said nothing. He couldnât.
Your head spun, the walls closing in, the fluorescent lights glaring like they were trying to expose every raw nerve. The doctorâs voice faded, a dull hum drowned out by the pounding of your own heartbeat.
âThey were mine,â you whispered.
Sukuna leaned closer, his hand steady against your back.
The doctor excused herself quietly, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence that followed pressed against your chest like a weight you couldnât lift.
You sat frozen, your hand still pressed to your stomach, waiting for somethingâanything. A kick, a flutter, some proof that they were still there.
But there was nothing.
You curled into yourself, clutching your stomach as though you could shield what was already gone.
âThey were mine,â you repeated, the words a broken mantra. âThey were mine.â
Sukunaâs grip was almost bruising. His other arm wrapped around you, pulling you against his chest.
He didnât speak, didnât try to fill the silence with empty reassurances. He just held you, his breath steady against your hair as your world fell apart.
After months of crying, your tears had finally run out. You couldnât will them now, not that you wanted to.
You were done.
The dissociation came slowly, creeping in like a shadow. You faded into hollow silence, your body still in his arms. You stared at the floor, your eyes unfocused, your mind retreating into a void where the suffering couldnât reach you.
Sukunaâs voice broke through the fog, low and firm. âStay with me, Princess.â
But you couldnât. Not anymore.
The hollowness swallowed you whole, leaving nothing but the ghost of what could have been.
But Sukuna stayed, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, an anchor you couldnât see.
//
The procedure to remove them was a nightmare. The machines beeped; the cold metal of the instruments glinted, their sharp edges catching your eye and filling your chest with dread.
Sukuna stood by your side. His hand wrapped around yours like a hazy lifeline, anchoring you to a reality you didnât care about.
His crimson eyes never left your face, his expression unreadable but tense, his jaw set as though he could will the universe to reverse itself by sheer force.
The procedure began, the doctorâs voice a muted hum in the background. Pressure built in your abdomen, the sensation alien and invasive, like something being torn away from the core of your existence. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste grounding you.
But you didnât scream no matter how much it hurt. You couldnât bring yourself to care whether you made it or if the universe would be kind enough to end it all through a freak incident of medical malpractice.
Sukuna didnât flinch, didnât move, his grip tightening as if to remind you he was there. The machines continued their cold, unfeeling symphony, and the minutes stretched into an eternity.
//
When it was over, there was only silence. The absence of their presence, a void that swallowed everything else.
The doctor murmured something to Sukuna, her words slipping past you like water over stone. You sat up shakily, the hospital gown sticking to your damp skin, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts. But mind wasnât there.
âI want to see them,â you whispered. âPlease.â
Sukuna was in front of you in an instant, his broad chest blocking your view as he pulled you into his arms. His grip was firm but careful, cradling you as though you might shatter as the doctors moved discreetly behind him.
âNo,â he said, his voice low but resolute. âYou donât want to see them, Princess. Trust me.â
You clutched at his shirt with trembling hands. âThey were mine,â you choked out, your words muffled against him.
âThey still are,â he murmured, his tone softer than youâd ever heard. His hand stroked your back in slow, grounding motions, his presence steady even as his own turmoil blared beneath.
The sight of them would haunt him forever.
Heâd seen them as the doctors worked quickly, their small, fragile forms laid out in a shallow steel tray. The boyâs limbs were long, spindly, his jawline so sharp it was almost serrated. His translucent skin revealed a web of delicate veins, branching like cracks in glass. The girlâs features were softer, her tiny hands fused into curling nubs, her face serene despite the unnatural bulge beneath her closed eyelids. Their hair split down the middleâone half blond, the other stark whiteâa cruel mirror of their fathers.
They were chimeric, a grotesque fusion of too much DNA, as the doctors explained to him later, alone. âIncompatible with life,â they had said clinically, as though that phrase could encompass the enormity of the loss.
They told him there was no recorded case of such a thing ever happening.
Sukuna stayed silent through it all, his hand flexing at his side as if he wanted to destroy the room, the machines, the universe itself. But when he returned to you, he was calm again, his rage buried beneath layers of quiet resolve.
The hospital was a blur after that, like you were seeing through water. Sukuna dealt with the hospital staff in his usual mannerâefficient, cold, terrifying. He had the remains cremated, sparing you the finality of their lifeless forms. You barely noticed when he disappeared to speak with the staff, his voice low and clipped, or when he returned, his presence looming beside you like a shield you didnât ask for.
When you asked about the remains, your voice hollow and detached, he didnât sugarcoat it. âItâs already done,â he said simply, his tone leaving no room for questions.
You nodded, not because you agreed, but because you didnât care enough to argue.
âLetâs go home,â he said, his voice steady as he helped you to your feet.
You clung to him as he carried you out of the hospital, but your expressions remained unreadable. The hollow ache in your chest felt endless, but Sukuna didnât let go, his presence a fragile shield against the unbearable weight of what youâd lost.
//
The days after were an endless cycle of nothingness. Sukuna filled the void with his relentless presence, taking over everything he already used to manage. He cooked meals you barely touched, cleaned the apartment with medical precision, scheduled your appointments, and arranged therapy without asking.
âYou need this,â he said when you stared blankly at the brochure he placed in front of you. His tone firm, final.
You went because it was easier than refusing. The therapist spoke gently, her words carefully chosen, but they washed over you like white noise. You answered her questions in monotone, offering just enough to keep the sessions moving. He drove you to and back from your appointments and waited for you in between.
âItâll take time,â she said once after your session, her voice warm with reassurance. Sukuna nodded. You didnât respond.}
//
At home, you spent hours by the window, staring at the sea. The waves rolled in and out, unchanging, as if mocking the chaos that had become your life. Sukuna hovered in the background, his movements quiet. He never pushed, never demanded anything from you.
Sometimes heâd sit nearby, reading or scrolling through his phone, his presence grounding in its consistency. Other times, heâd leave you entirely alone, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway as he gave you space you didnât know how to fill.
When nightmares came, they werenât violent anymore. They strangled you silently. Youâd wake in a cold sweat, your chest heavy with an ache that felt like it would never leave. Sukuna was always there, sitting at the edge of your bed, his hand resting on your shoulder or his voice a low murmur in the dark. Had he stopped sleeping? You were too dissociated to argue.
âItâs okay,â heâd say, though you didnât believe him.
One night, you woke to find him standing in the doorway, his silhouette stark against the faint light from the hall. He didnât notice you watching as he muttered under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.
âIf they ever come near you again, Iâll kill them.â
You didnât ask who he meant. You didnât want to know.
No matter what Sukuna didâhis soft gestures, his quiet presence, his unwavering careâyou remained numb.
He brought you flowers once, bright and vibrant, placing them on the table with a small, awkward shrug. You glanced at them briefly before returning to your spot by the window.
He cooked your favorite meal, setting the plate in front of you with a forced smirk. âEat, Princess,â he said, but when you pushed the food around with your fork and left the table without a word, he didnât stop you.
Even when he tried to make you laughâmuttering sarcastic comments about the people outside, rolling his eyes dramatically when the news played something ridiculousâit barely registered.
The world felt distant, like you were watching it through frosted glass.
Sukunaâs presence was the only constant, but even that felt like something happening to someone else.
And though you didnât react, didnât acknowledge the weight of his efforts, he stayed. Silent, steady, unyielding.
//
One night when the pain got too much, you walked to his room and cried in his chest. After months.
He held you the way he always did, but it was stronger this time, as if trying to anchor you in a storm that wouldnât pass. He didnât fill the void with empty reassurances, nor did he push you to speak.
The next day, things went back to you staring at nothing.
--
Japan
Gojo sat slouched, manspreading on the couch, his T-shirt messy like his hair, eyes uncovered, hands dangling between his knees, a photo clutched so tightly the edges were crumpled. The room was dim, lit only by the gray haze of a city that never quite slept. His six eyes scanned the image for the hundredth time, even though he knew every detail by heartâthe grainy black-and-white outline of two unmistakable shapes, curled together like yin and yang. Heâd gotten it from the hospital you visited before leaving.
He let out a hollow laugh, the sound breaking the oppressive silence. âTwins. Our twins.â His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.
Nanami stood by the window, staring out at the endless city lights. His sweater covered with alcohol stains, his sleeves rolled up to reveal veins that looked ready to burst.
Gojo tilted his head back, his eyes burning as he stared at the ceiling. âDo you think sheââ He stopped, his voice failing him. He tried again. âDo you think she hates us?â
Nanamiâs face was as if it had been carved from stone, but his eyes betrayed the storm beneath. âShe doesnât hate us,â he spoke lowly. âShe⊠doesnât trust us. Thereâs a difference.â It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.
Gojoâs laugh was sharper this time, almost cruel. âTrust? Trust died the night we left her alone in this goddamn drawing room. Remember that? Her silently crying, begging us to tell her we cared, and weâŠâ His voice faltered, and he shook his head. âWe crawled into bed together like cowards.â
Nanamiâs jaw tightened, his hands clenching, shattering the glass heâd forgotten he was holding. But before Gojo could look up, his own RCT healed him. He stared at the disappeared wound like he wanted it back. âI remember, but I donât think that was the final straw. I think it was the same weekend.â
Gojo stayed silent for a long time at that and then asked, âdo you think theyâll look like her?â His voice softened, and he stared down at the photo, his thumb brushing over the image. âHer smileâŠâ
Nanamiâs gaze dropped to the floor. âI hope they donât look like us.â
Gojoâs head snapped up, his six eyes narrowing. âWhy the hell would you say that?â
Nanamiâs voice was barely above a whisper. âBecause we ruin everything we touch.â
Gojo leaned back, letting the photo fall to the coffee table. His hands ran through his hair, tugging hard enough to sting. âTheyâre better off without us.â
Nanami walked over and sat across from him, the weight of the moment pressing down on both of them. âEverything hurts.â
Gojoâs lips twitched, almost forming a smile before falling flat. âHurt? Nanami, this⊠this is beyond hurt. This isâŠâ He gestured vaguely, words failing him. âIâm empty. Sheâs gone, and IâŠâ
Nanami reached for the photo, his fingers brushing against the image. âAt least we have this,â he said, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. âSomething to know it was real.â
He paused for what felt like an eternity and then added, âSheâll protect them.â
Gojoâs six eyes dimmed, their usual brilliance dulled by exhaustion. âYeah. Sheâll protect them. From us.â
Nanamiâs grip on the photo tightened. âFrom the world we brought her into.â
The two men sat in silence, the photo lying between them like a ghost of what could have been. The air was thick with grief, regret, and a despair so deep it felt like drowning. Neither spoke again that night.
A/N: Okay, yâall, save the rage essays for after the next chapterâthen hit me with your 14-page death threats. This pain was necessary for the redemption arc, but I promise groveling starts in the new year. Pain first, comfort laterâlike a good skincare routine. Drop your theories, death threats (creative ones pls), or tell me if Gojo should be banned from gaming conventions forever. Your comments = my serotonin boost, so donât hold back. Did this chapter ruin your day, your week, or your will to exist? Let me know. đ"
Chapter 7 (alt ending 1.3) - Sapphire Echoes (Tumblr/Ao3)
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Within Your Eyes Intro Post
DEMO [Last Updated June 22nd, 2024]
You are a Warden, a monster hunter who has come to the Kingdom of Auris which has become the forefront runner in itâs acceptance of magic and supernatural alike within the West Highlands. But when strange happenstances occur, you are called upon not just because of skill, but also because of your condition. A condition youâve lied about for last 12 years.
Unearth the secrets that magic holds as a new form is discovered.
Befriend or romance those who attempt to worm through the cracks of the mask you wear. Or will you fight to keep them at arms length?
Regardless of where your journey takes you, your feathered friend will be at your side. As he always has been.
This story will be 18+ for the following reasons:
Explicit and erotic intimate scenes
Death, including of a child
Violence, blood and gore
Thoughts of suicide
Mentions of suicide
Self harm
Explicit language
Mental trauma
Horror elements
Feelings of being watched
NOTE: Your character will be pretending to have a disability (blindness), not because of a disorder but out of self preservation.
This list may be updated.
You are running away from your past. As you take a this new job, you're forced to confront it. What vices do you use to cope? Will you learn to rely on others or will your raven be your only source of comfort? Will you feel guilty for your lies? Yours will be a journey of self-forgiveness, or maybe you'll only fall deeper into despair.
Play as a man, woman, or non-binary. Gay, straight, or bi.
Plenty of customization options from physical appearance to clothes.
Ί Admos de Le Wren â Male | Draconian | Second-Born
Admos, the Dragon Lord of Auris, ascended to the throne following a devastating conflict with his father, bypassing his older brother's claim. This decision deepened the rift among his siblings. As he enters his fifth year as sovereign, Admos grapples with guilt and uncertainty about his role in the family's discord. Will you help him find clarity or fuel his doubts?
Ί Lyth/Lyari de Le Wren â Gender Selectable | Draconian | Tenth-Born
Ly took on the role of Viceroy/Vicereine in Auris and became their brother Admos's Right Hand, playing a vital part in the kingdom's recovery after a conflict with their father. However, an incident they triggered over a year and a half ago almost led to another war, casting doubt on their suitability for their position and their aid to their brother. Will you help Ly grapple with their past actions and uncertainties about their role as Viceroy/Vicereine, or will their internal conflicts remain unresolved?
Ί Leese/Lea van Laere â Gender Selectable | Human | Vampire
Born into nobility, Lee's life as the child of prominent figures in Lenia took an unexpected turn when they were turned into a vampire. Forced to leave their home, Lee now wrestles with their new identity, desperately seeking meaning in their existence and if it's worth maintaining.
Is Lee a monster consumed by instinct, or can you help them reclaim their humanity?
Ί Xiang Xiaowen/Xiaodan â Gender Selectable | Human
Xiao, an ambassador dispatched to Auris to aid the Dragon Lord in Council matters, fought hard to secure their role. Serving as an unofficial advisor, they frequently share insights to assist Admos. Yet their unwavering dedication to obtaining this position hints at a deeper motivation. Perhaps they will reveal it to you.
Ί Gabriel Duarte â Gender Selectable | Human
Assigned to you as an assistant of sorts, the recently knighted guard is searching for their place within the Order. Perhaps their new mission will set them on a path for glory, or sink them beneath the turmoils it takes to obtain.
Ί Hestia â She/They | Elf? | Witch
Even the most kind have their secrets.
Ί Elies de Le Wren â He/Him | Draconian | Exiled Prince
.
Ί Harus Emery â He/Him | Half-Draconian Half-Human | Warden
Poly Routes: Lyth/Lyari and Gabriel | Leese/Lea and Gabriel | Xiaowen/Xiaodan and Hestia
Love Triangle: Admos and Elies (Note: Will not be resolved in poly. Don't overthink it.)
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Romance Information Post
Ko-Fi
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WYE will always be free with chapters released once they are finished.
This is a planned trilogy.
Thank you for reading and for your support! â„
#interactive fiction#within your eyes if#text based game#text based adventure#twine game#twine wip#twine interactive fiction#twine if#twine story#cyoa#interactive game#interactive novel#twine games
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