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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

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Sanemi lashing out on his pregnant wife only to beg her for forgiveness later

Pairing: Sanemi x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3,1k

Synopsis: Like every week, you find yourself on your way back from Shinobu's estate and your pregnancy check-up. Little did you know what horror awaits you at your own home with your husband almost killing two kids...

Warnings: Sanemi is mean in this one and I mean it, extreme hurt but also comfort in the end so don't worry, full Shinazugawa package regarding language and violence lol, not proofread because I have to leave now

Thank you sooo much for that cool request @itsmscoco and I'm sorry it took a while. I really hope you like what I came up with 🤍

You rub your minor belly. For a woman, a pregnancy should feel like a trip to heaven. After all, you are blessed with developing a child that is half you and half your husband. Oh, your beloved and surprisingly gentle husband who always makes sure that you get enough sleep, that you nutrition yourself properly. But even the wind hashira can’t do a single thing against your constant sickness and pain.

“Please try this out, (y/n). Don’t hesitate to come here again if you need something else. You really have an unfortunate pregnancy when it comes to nausea”, Shinobu comments gently while giving your belly a little massage.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am so excited about the honor of caring for a child in my own body. But honestly, I’m so glad when this pregnancy is over”, you huff while taking a deep breath in.

Please, don’t vomit all over the insect pillar who’s just trying to help. You’ve been here what feels like everyday since finding out you’re pregnant. Well, to be exact, Shinobu is the one who suggested that you might expect a child.

Because of your never-ending sickness.

“Oh, there’s nothing to get wrong at all! After all, your pregnancy is a rather difficult one. But I’m sure Shinazugawa is taking good care of you!”

“He definitely does. My husband is an angel”, you reply in an instant.

You can’t wait to go back home. Even though your sleep-drunken eyes won’t be able to stay open longer than maybe a few hours, even though you weren’t able to catch a proper glimpse at Sanemi’s part in the on-going hashira training until now, you can’t wait to go back home. Back into your estate, back into the arms of your beloved husband.

“Not quite the codename I’d use for him, but that’s just what love does, right? I will send a kakushi along with you. Otherwise, Shinazugawa might show up and threaten me”, Shinobu jokes while helping you to get up.

“Thank you for your help. Again.”

You pull the insect hashira into a deep hug. How lucky you should consider yourself for the opportunity to call Shinobu your friend, that Sanemi laid his eyes on you. Out of all the countless women around, the ones with faces like porcelain and bodies so well-formed you can’t hold a candle against every single one of them. But still, he chose you.

“Come on, (y/n). Why are you crying?”, Shinobo whispers into your ear while rubbing small circles onto your back.

“I’m just a little overwhelmed from everything I guess”, you mumble against her comforting shoulder.

Just a few months ago, you would have laughed at anyone who told you that your life would turn out like this. Of course, you’ve lost countless good friends and family members on the way and living with a suborn husband like Sanemi isn’t always easy. But somehow, the two of you always make it work.

Right?

-at the wind hashira estate-

“We are almost there. Are you feeling alright?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m just a little tired from walking, that’s all!”

Truth is, your feet hurt like hell. Shinobu reported about women who don’t even feel their baby until the second trimester. Why are your feet already swollen, your belly bloated, your guts constantly turning? And there’s still so much ahead.

“Looks like Shinazugawa-sama received a new bunch of trainees after the other corps members all landed in Kocho-sama’s hospital wing”, the kakushi next to you comments dryly.

“Was it really that bad?”

Of course you heard about the rather brutal training methods of your husband. After all, even the walls of his estate aren’t thick enough to stop every single scream from reaching your ears. But still…

“It was pretty bad. Some of the-“

Glass cracking. Screams from afar. Out of instinct, you pick up your pace until you dash towards your home, sweat now dripping from every pore. What happened? Is Sanemi alright? He wouldn’t leash out on one of his students like that. Something must have happened. A demon? No, it’s still daytime. But what is it?

“He’s back! He’s back! That cold-blooded man! Lie down and pretend that you’ve fainted!”, a blonde-haired boy screams while almost collapsing onto the floor.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on here?”, you press out.

Your lungs threaten to fail you, breath already tasting like pure iron.

Until your eyes find Genya.

Your guts twist and turn in every direction, almost force you to vomit all over the place. Genya shouldn’t be here. Out of all people, it shouldn’t be him. And who’s the boy next to him. That familiar scar, you’ve seen that boy before. Is it possible that…

“Kamado Tanjiro”, you breathe out.

Maybe that is even worse.

Your eyes dart around the area without an aim. Where’s Sanemi? Did he find them already? They need to leave before he finds out that they’re here, carry on with another hashira training.

“Please stop now!”, Tanjiro suddenly shouts while stretching out his arm in defence.

An uneasy feeling crawls up your spine, the dark claws of sickening foreshadowing. All you can do is standing death still right where you are and watch in sheer horror as your husband stomps out of your estate motion.

Is that your husband you love and adore, though? You know how untamed he can get especially when getting confronted with his painful past. It was never easy for him to see Genya join the demon slayer corps or realize that his mother could have been saved like Tanjiro’s sister.

But never in your entire life have you seen him like this. The empty shell of your husband, muscles tensed to the maximum and his empty orbs directed towards the two boys in front of him.

In this very moment, you’d trust him to actually kill them.

“What are you going to do? Are you planning to kill Genya?”, Tanjiro continues passionately.

Your glossy orbs are set on your husband. Would he really do something like that? What if you witness the father of your unborn child taking the life of two other human beings? Your heart can’t take it, knees threaten to fail you.

“Hell no, I’m not going to kill him. It would be easy enough to kill him, but since it’s against the rules and all…I’m going to ruin him beyond recovery!”

Until your blurry head finally makes a decision and allows your feet to run.

Straight towards the two boys.

Straight into the firing line.

Straight into the sight of your now maniac husband.

“You won’t do any of these things, you hear me?”, you jeer at him with your new-found courage.

“(y/n)”, Genya breathes behind you.

“How dare you to talk to innocent children like that, Sanemi?”

The man in front of you furrows his eyebrows, hands clenched into tight fists while taking a step towards you.

“Get lost. Right now”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

You swallow hard, all nerves now tingling in sheer horror. This is the first and last warning, without any doubt. The look on his stone-cold face tells you more than urgently that Sanemi isn’t playing, that he doesn’t want you here.

Maybe it’s best if you go back inside and pretend that nothing happened. He himself said that he won’t kill them, after all…

“I’m not leaving”, you bite back.

But that would mean leaving Genya alone. That would mean giving up all of your principles.

“Will you act out like this towards our child as well?”, you continue while growing bigger and bigger in front of the two boys.

He might be your husband, the love of your life. That doesn’t mean you’ll always have to do what he tells you, tough. Instinctively, you clench your hands into tight fists with your glossy eyes almost piercing through him. Enough is enough.

“If our child acts as dumb as you do, I sure as hell will!”

Oh.

Your heart drops to the floor when a nauseous wave of agony hits you with full force. Sanemi is and has always been a hot-headed man who never thought twice about the things he said. But never, not even once in your entire relationship he insulted you.

Until now.

“Is this really how you feel about me? We should support each other, you should listen to me as well as-“

“Spare me with that bullshit, (y/n)”, Sanemi spits at you.

“Get.out.of.the.way. Can’t you hear me?”

It’s like you stop living for a moment. All this time, you did your best to understand him and his grief. Everything Sanemi does comes with a logical reason behind it, even though it’s hard to see from time to time. But lashing out at you like that?

“Stop being so disrespectful to me right now. I am your wife-“

“Right now, you’re my problem”, he jeers back.

“And now get off my sight and let me finish this real quick-“

You don’t know what made you act the way you just did. Was it his cruel behaviour, the way his words cut through your heart like a thousand knives? Before your husband is even able to finish his sentence, your palm races towards his cheek with full force.

The world around you goes silent, frightful gazes glued onto you while you can’t stop your tears from falling anymore.

“Is this how you’re acting around your pregnant wife by now, how you’ll treat innocent children? If that’s the live you chose, I’m not a part of it anymore”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, the urge to get as far away from him as possible becomes unbearable. Your feet start sprinting towards the estate on your own, carry you into your now so empty-feeling bedroom.

And finally, you allow yourself to break down and cry.

Is this really the man you love, that you’d give your life for? Your shaky fingers caress your belly mindlessly.

You can’t stay here. Not when Sanemi showed you a completely different face today. Not when this place doesn’t feel like home anymore.

-a few hours later-

“Fuck!”, Sanemi cries out on top of his lungs while dashing towards Obanai over and over.

Why can’t he get your stupid words out of his mind? The way you stood there with tears in your eyes, how he was literally able to hear your heart crack when those damned words left his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, to drag you into the fuckery with his little brother and that Kamado boy.

But why did he say all those dumb things, then?

“You seem off, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly, hitting the wind hashira with full force again.

“I guess I fucked up”, Sanemi mumbles.

What if you won’t forgive him for today? Your last words haunt him since the moment you left him standing in the rain.

“I bet you can talk your way out of it-“

“Hell nah. I don’t think she wants to see me tonight.”

“Did you ask her, though?”

“Who the hell do you think you are anyway? You’re the one to talk, not able to confess your feelings to Mitsuri”, Sanemi barks at the man next to him.

“But yeah, maybe I should get going…”

Coming home never fuelled him with so much fright. What if you’re still angry at him, if you refuse to even talk to him? Or even worse, what if you’ll really leave him?

Sanemi’s guts turn in an instant, feet now picking up their pace with every step. He can’t lose you. Not you, the light of his life. Not when you are the only ray of sunshine in this rotting hell. What the hell did he do? The fact that he even raised his voice at you is unforgivable.

Finally, his fingers grab the door that leads to your shared bedroom, finally he’s able to make up for his mistakes of today-

His eyes widen in sheer horror.

You’re gone.

Right there where your head should rest, there’s absolutely nothing.

Panic starts rising up his chest, forces his heart down his throat.

Did you leave?

He yanks out of your shared room, eyes roaming around each and every corner of your estate. But you aren’t there. You aren’t here.

“My lady is at the love hashira’s estate.”

Sanemi darts up immediately, greeted by the oh so familiar voice of your personal crow.

“Is she fine, why did she-“

“With all due respect, I suggest you to control yourself before making any more insensitive comments to my lady-“

“Who the hell do you even think you are you-“

“Your earlier spoken words really troubled her and my lady certainly does not deserve that.”

Without another word, your crow disappears into the darkness of night again.

Sanemi swallows hard. Fuck, did he really hurt you that badly? He never wanted you to feel bad, never wanted to hurt you. Damn, he only wanted to show Genya and that Kamado boy their places. It shouldn’t have hit you. Out of all people, why did he have to hurt you?

“I need to tell her”, he mumbles under his breath before dashing towards the love hashira estate.

-at Mitsuri’s-

“I can’t believe Shinazugawa said something like this to you, (y/n)! You are super far away from being dumb, after all! Here, eat another pancake and stay as long as you want.”, Mitsuri babbles while handing you another plate.

Your dry eyes are barely able to stay open any longer. All the grief, explaining, fighting and crying did apparently really wear you out. Good for you Mitsuri’s estate is near by and you just know she’ll always open her arms for you.

“Thank you so much for taking me in, Kanroji. I really don’t deserve your kindness”, you sniffle.

“You have to be joking, (y/n)! It’s my duty as your friend to be there for you anytime you need me! And also, I-”

Three violent knocks on Mitsuri’s wooden door almost send you over the edge. It’s past after midnight, the time closer to the morning than evening. Who would knock on Mitsuri’s door this late at night?

“Do you think that’s a demon?”, you mutter in horror, both pairs of eyes set on the door.

“I don’t think so. Let’s see!”

Before you’re able to stop Mitsuri, she rips open the door.

And reveals no other than your husband.

“Sanemi”, you breathe out.

Tears start swelling up your eyes in an instant when a flood of memories crushes you all over again. Just a few hours ago, your husband made very clear that he doesn’t want to see you again anytime soon. How did he find out that you’re here?

“(y/n), can we…have a talk?”, he mumbles with icy voice.

“Do you want to leave me?”, you blurt out.

“What?”

Is that really how you feel, what you think of him? That he’ll turn his back on you after a fight? He did say all those nasty things to you, though.

“I think I’m going out and…cook!”, Mitsuri announces while sprinting out of the door, leaving you alone in the room with all that tension and him.

Him, the man you love more than anything else in this world. And also him, who broke your heart like he never did before.

“You have to be kidding me”, Sanemi mutters under his breath.

You turn away before you lose your composure completely.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?”

“Do you really think I’m here to dump you!? You, my pregnant wife!? You can’t be fucking serious about that!”

In the matter of seconds, you find yourself surrounded by his usual so comforting arms that now hurt like daggers against your skin.

“Please, let me go, I can’t do this ri-“

“(y/n), please.”

His suffocated voice forces your eyes to dart upwards.

Instantly, your heart drops to the floor.

Is this really your husband, crying against your shoulder while pressing your body against his?

“I’m sorry for all the shit I’ve said, I’m sorry for making you feel this way. I’d never leave you, not when I’m even lucky for calling you mine. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this, I just…I just can’t stand them…”

“Sanemi…”

“And I get that I don’t deserve you and that I’m a jerk for hurting you. I know you could’ve had every man you wanted-“

“Sanemi!”, you snap at him, holding onto his face tightly.

“But you’re the one I want”, you finally cry out.

“But your words hurt me. Is this really how you feel about me? Do you really think I’m a burden?”

“I was out of my fucking mind for saying that to you! You’re my blessing, my everything, the sunshine in this rotting hell. You’re…You’re my wife, right?”

That innocent look on his now tear-soaked face runs shivers down your spine, reminds you that even though he acted out today, this man is still the Sanemi Shinazugawa you fell in love with years ago.

“I am your wife”, you press out before a new wave of tears haunts you down.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). So so sorry”, he mutters again and again while kissing every tear away that escapes your eyes.

“And I’ll never talk to you like that again, I promise.”

“Will you promise to not treat Tanjiro and Genya like that ever again too?”

Sanemi shifts his weight underneath you, his orbs growing hard again. Was this too much to ask for? No. Even though you love Sanemi’s rough side as well, he simply can’t do something like this again. Not when you’re his wife, not when you are expecting his first very own child.

“I will. But only if these jerks leave me alone”, he grumbles before giving you a passionate kiss.

“That might be manageable. I want to go home now…”

“No problem, I’ll carry you-“

“You really don’t have to carry me-“

“Oh, but I sure as hell will.”

“HAVE A GOOD NIGHT YOU TWO! AND DON’T ACT LIKE A JERK AGAIN, SHINAZUGAWA!”

“Did you have to tell her everything?”

“She’s my friend, Sanemi. Of course I had to.”

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@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

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xo-hoon · 2 months

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𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘆𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘆𝗲 — p.sh

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: revenge, angst, smut, fluff

synopsis: Sunghoon nurtured a profound animosity towards his childhood friend, Lee Heeseung, blaming him for his sister's death. To Sunghoon, his sister was the only person who had genuinely loved him, making Heeseung's perceived betrayal unforgivable. This deep resentment sparked an intense desire for revenge, driving Sunghoon to extreme measures to achieve it. But to what extent would he go to find satisfaction in his vengeance against Lee Heeseung? Would his plans unfold smoothly, or would everything take an unexpected turn, throwing his schemes into something he didn’t expect.

word count: 7k

warnings: swearing, kidnapping (kinda), possessive hoon, mentions of death, fake marriage, depression.

an eye for an eye: part 1 - masterlist

The familiar feeling of emptiness flooded his body. Sunghoon’s eyes were lifeless as the they gazed at the coffin where his sister’s remains lay.

This was the same feeling he had when his father’s mistress left him at his biological father’s mansion.

He felt the coldness of his father towards him. He felt the hatred of his father’s wife. He saw disappointment in his grandparents’ faces.

He was unloved and unwanted, it was a no brainer.

For a six-year-old child, it was all too much to take. When he was living with his mother, he was treatedlike shit. And when he lived with his father, there was no difference at all. It’s no wonder why he became wary of people. He wouldn’t want to talk to anyone, nor be in the same room as them. He would only go out to eat and return to his room to lock himself up. He even thought back then that his existence was big bad joke.

But one day, a girl with the same dark brown eyes as his went inside his room and forced him to leave the house and drink up some sunshine. He had no other choice but to follow the girl because she would never let go of his hand.

Truth to be told, Sunghoon found the girl irritating, he wanted to hurt her. But when she said that she was his sister and that she would protect him from all evil, he was left speechless. Because for the first time in years, there was a person who wanted to protect him. Her older sister’s smile made him cry, not because of sadness, but because of happiness.

He let out a hollow laugh. He will never see those smiles of her sister ever again. Those good old times would now be just a mere memory.

He slightly turned his head when he heard someone familiar talking behind him. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched as he stared at the cause of his beloved sister’s death, Lee Heeseung. His bestfriend and her sister’s boyfriend.

With heavy feet, he stood up and approached the guy and his father who he was talking to.

“You’re not welcome here, Lee Heeseung. Leave” His voice was hard and heavy.

“Park Sunghoon!” His father reprimanded.

“Uncle, can you please give us a minute? We’re just going to talk.”

“If you want to explain what happened, then let me tell you that you’re just wasting your time.” He said, blankly, not showing an ounce of emotion to the guy in front of him.

“Please, Sunghoon, listen to me. I didn’t want all of this to happen. I-I’m sorry.” Heeseung sounded so pathetically contrite, making him want to vomit.

“So you want me forgive you just like that, Heeseung?” He sarcastically remarked. Heeseung shook his head with a sigh and looked at Sunghoon with pleading eyes once again.

“I know it was partly my fault, and I am also hurting, Sunghoon. You know how much I love your sister, and I wouldn’t ask for this to happen.”

“You wouldn’t ask for this to happen?” He sharply retorted what the guy said. “It was the middle of the fucking night, yet you asked her to go out riding in your stupid car. You asked her to leave even if it was already late. Clearly, you asked for this the happen! You are the reason why my sister is lying there!” He lashed out, pointing at the coffin where her sister’s lifeless body lie.

“It was our anniversary! I invited her out because I wanted to surprise her!” Heeseung’s left hand balled into a fist he was sure the right one would do the same if it weren’t in a sling due to the accident.

“Yeah, and because of that stupid surprise, my sister died.” He saw the look of hurt in his best friend’s eyes, but the pain that he is seeing wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to beat the shit out of Heeseung and kill him with his bare hands, but that would be too easy.

“I didn’t know that a drunk driver would appear and hit us! If only I knew… I-if only I knew…” Heeseung’s eyes reddened with pain.

Sunghoon’s greeted his teeth, turning away. “Leave.”

“Sunghoon, please….”

“Just leave!” he hissed. “Leave and don’t ever show your face to me ever again.” He said in a serious tone.

“Sunghoon?” He was quick to turn his head towards the source of the voice. There stood Y/n, standing next to Heeseung as she anxiously glanced back and forth between the two. “Why would you say that to my brother?”

His lips pressed firmly with a stern expression. “Because his idea of a pleasant surprise is a bad joke.”

That was all he said before returning to his seat. He didn’t bother to look at the two again, and he wasn’t able to see Y/n’s eyes widen in surprise. He only heard the faint farewells of the two to his father.

Once again, Sunghoon confined in his own lonely world. He feels like he was cursed and happiness was forcefully denied to him. Losing his sister who helped him break free from his dark world was painful.

Losing a friend that he considered a family was painful.

Losing the woman he had learned to love was painful.

In just a snap, he lost the people who gave color to his world.

10 years later…

The service crew was very attentive, Sunghoon noticed. The place was modern and cozy. He hadn’t taste any of the pastries yet, but they looked appetizing. All in all, the bakeshop was pretty impressive. There’s no wonder why a lot of people go here.

On the other hand, it was quite a surprise that he’s in the shop. This was the first time he set foot in this place.

He wouldn’t bother to come if it weren’t for something important, especially since the owner of this bakeshop is the sister of someone he despises.

Yes, he knew you owned this place.

Your town is small enough for him to not know that. So, why the hell would he choose to meet someone in your haven of all places? There was a ninety-nine percent chance of him seeing you there. But what can he do about it?

His ‘oh so noble father’ commanded him to meet with the girl he liked for him. Obviously wanting him to settle down already. And because that he is the only son of his beloved father, he has no right to oppose to it.

He felt his phone rang and he answered.

“Yes?”

“Hey, Mr. Park.”

Said the girl on the other line. The voice sound forcefully seductive it sounded cheap to his ear.

“May I know who’s on the other line?”

Sunghoon asked lazily and almost rolled his eyes.

“This is Shin Yuna. I’m the one you’re meeting at the bakery in town.”

His eyes went searching for a woman who was on the phone, probably speaking with him. At the door he saw a woman wearing a tight-fitting yellow dress. The woman had a phone pressed to one ear, her eyes scanning the inside of the shop. Looks like she was the one he’s waiting for.

He ended that call once her eyes landed on him. Evidently, she’d recognize him. A sensual smile appeared on her bloody red lips and she started walking towards him.

He should feel lucky because the woman was a catch. Her skin was smooth and fair, she had shiny, long hair. And in his opinion, aside from her hourglass figure, the girl’s flawless legs were her best asset, free from any scars.

She was gorgeous all right. But it doesn’t have an impact on Sunghoon.

Yuna must be one of those girls who are pretty on the outside, empty in the inside. Beautiful but annoying and boring.

He stood up as the girl approached. He offered his hand but she didn’t take it. Instead, she leaned to give him a kiss on his cheek. Okay, he wasn’t at all shocked by that.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Park” she greeted

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Shin.”

“Please, call me Yuna.” She said with a wide almost flirty smile. “Then call me Sunghoon.” He motioned her to the seat in front of him. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, have you ordered anything yet” she said as she sat.

Sunghoon shook his head. “Not yet, I was waiting for you. And it’s my first time here, I don’t know what food to choose.” Her hand rested on his arm and he wasn’t born yesterday to not know that she was openly flirting with him.

“Oh Really? You should try their famous gyeran-ppang. It’s a fluffy loaf of bread with a whole egg inside. It’s really good, I suggest you try it.”

Sunghoon suddenly remembered you, gyeran-ppang was your favorite ever since. Be it sweet of savory. He didn’t expect that those two could be brought together.

“If you liked it, maybe I should try it.” He simply said, trying to push away the memories. Yuna’s eyes sparkled, and he wanted to roll his eyes, but Sunghoon retrained himself. What was an hour of enduring this infront of her, right?

“Okay, I’ll just go to the counter to order, since this is a self-service shop.” Yuna said as he noticed a slight frown on her face. “I hope next time they hire waiters here so customers won’t have to go to the counter to do the job.”

Ah, he knew it.

His assumptions were correct, the girl only visually pleasing. Deep inside, she was a typical rich brat. He found his father’s taste in girl quite funny.

“It’s like hitting two birds with one stone. The service would be aster, plus it would provide jobs for jobless people. That way, more customers would go here, and it would reduce the number of unemployed people.” She annoyingly added further.

God help him stop himself from sneering. As if he’d believe that shit. What could this girl possibly know about work and helping other people?

“Yeah, you’re right.” He answered dryly. “I’ll order, I’m the guy here and I should be the one treating you and taking care of things.”

She sweetly smiled at him once again. “Why, thank you, Sunghoon. I’ll have two gyeran-ppang and one iced coffee. And please ask for a fork and knife while you’re at it.”

“Alright.” He gave her a small smile and quickly stood up, immediately walking his way to the counter to escape his date. He wished the serving of their food would last longer, but the workers in the shop were indeed good at what they do. In less than six minutes. He was back at his table with Yuna waiting for him.

“Go ahead and try it.” She urged him to sit down as their order was served. He took a bit of the gyeran-ppang and he instantly knew why it became popular in the area.

“It’s good right?” He simply nodded in response. Yuna then picked up the bread knife and fork that he requested earlier and used them to eat.

“Why use a fork and knife? It’s a finger food.” He couldn’t help but to ask.

“Oh, eating it with my fingers would be a mess, and my lipstick would smudge if I eat it directly.” Sunghoon avoided raising the corners of if his lips.

“I see. I’m surprised that you eat food like this and have that kind of body.” Yuna let out a shy laugh at his statement.

“I’m very conscious with what I eat, but when I tried this a few weeks ago, I forgot the diet. I even bought boxes of it for the orphanage that we were helping, And the kids loved it too.”

She was trying to impress him by mentioning the word orphanage? Would it be a bad idea to laugh? Or was he being too hard on this girl? After all, what did he know about Yuna? He didn’t even bother to make an effort to find out about the girl’s demeanor before coming here. Is her values really worth his time? Sunghoon bit his lip to stop himself from commenting something he’d regret saying later on.

Sunghoon glanced at the entrance of the bakeshop and he swore he felt his heart pounded. A pang of nostalgia when he saw a familiar figure arrive.

You were like an angel minus the wings and the halo. You were wearing a simple with dress that gave you sweet and innocent look. He didn’t expect that you would become even more beautiful than you are over the years. Your rosy white skin was flawless, he longed to touch it. Your lips were full and naturally pink. He almost tasted those once and he suddenly had this urge to kiss you.

He sighed forcefully, everything about him was cold earlier but he felt so damn hot in an instant just by seeing you. He wanted to own you, he wanted to make you his.

Sunghoon felt his heart race at he continued to stare at your face, feeling the rush of warmth in his body.

The beautifully scattered moles on your face made you look more unique ang exquisite to him. Back then, Sunghoon thought he could spend the rest of his life just by looking at your lovely face. Your beautifully sculpted brown eyes with thick and long lashes were still bright and full of life. He wanted to lose himself one day while looking at those hypnotic vivid orbs.

You walked you way towards the counter and greeted your staff with a bright smile.

The sun’s heat was nothing compared to the warmth of your smile. You were like the sun, only brighter, with inky black hair shining.

Now that’s his kind of pretty. You would always be his kind of pretty. Your beauty was ethereal, it was second to none in Sunghoon’s eyes. He mustered all his strength to look away from the person who evoked such emotions from him.

He tried to put his focus on the person in front of him, but his eyes would occasionally wander back to you.

“So, what are you busy with these days?” He heard Yuna asked him.

“Work, I guess.” He shrugged. “We export high quality mangoes to our neighboring countries.”

“Oh. Yeah, my parents and I visited your mango farm once. And I must say, your place is very refreshing.”

“Thank you, how about you? What your work?” He asked to have something to talk about, not because he wanted to know.

Yuna took a sip of her iced coffee before responding.

“I’m an interior designer, I often have famous celebrities as my client.” She said, feeling proud. “You know that one actor in squid game? He was my last client. Tell you what, his mansion was large, so I was very happy that I got the project.”

He tried his best not to look bored.

What does he care about celebrities? He hadn’t even watched this movie that she was talking about. But he needed to endure all this for two reasons. First, he didn’t want to be rude no matter how his inner demon wished to be. And second, to distract himself from your presence.

His only problem now is how will he hide himself from the owner of this bakery.

—

“Hey, Ning. How are you all doing?” You asked your worker working on the cashier as you entered the counter.

“We’re doing fine, Y/n. It was a bit of a hassle earlier because there were loads of customers, but it was overall doing alright. I mean, what’s a little hassle when you can earn profit, right?” Ningning said, smiling widely.

You giggled. “Yes, true. Sorry for being late, I wasn’t able to help you here. I just had something to take care of back home.”

“No, Y/n. It’s all good, you’re the boss here after all. You don’t have to worry about a single thing, we got you.” She said reassuringly, smiling softly at you.

“Yeah, Y/n. Besides, we know you’re going through something tough right now. How was everything anyway?” Sunoo, your amazing barista, asked. You sighed deeply before answering the young man.

“It’s not settled yet, our ranch is still a mess.”

“Oh, Y/n. Don’t be down like that, you’re going to get through everything sooner than you think.” You just smiled a Sunoo’s statement.

You needed money to rebuild the barn. You needed to hire new workers to manage the ranch. It could all be solved with money, but the problem is you don’t have much of it.

Ever since your parents died few years ago, your brother took over the management of the estate.

But what can Heeseung do when half of his life was into car racing? Even you don’t know how to run a ranch because your job is making different kinds of delicious bread. Before you and Heeseung could even realize it, the inheritance your parents left you both was slowly falling apart.

And now you and your brother wanted to save the precious land. You would give all the earning from the bakeshop just to make it work, but it was just wasn’t enough. You and Heeseung tried going to the banks, but they turned you down every time you tried. Your brother doesn’t want your house or land as collateral.

You were thankful for the people working for your shop as they wholeheartedly give you their support.

“Thank you for comforting my, guys. Don’t worry, if everything settles down, I’ll definitely throw a party.” They all cheered as you smiled.

You went out to fix the displays in the counter. You didn’t notice someone passing by, making you bump into them.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, realizing that you bumped into a woman. She quickly brushed off the area you bumped into and gave you a sharp look.

“Next time, watch where you’re going.” She turned to look at the person next to her and whispered.

“Sunghoon, let’s go?”

You felt like you were turned into stone and it looks like Sunghoon felt the same way. It seems like he was frozen in place where he stood, his gaze solely fixed on you.

But it seemed like you’re mistaken because when you looked closely at the man, his face had no expression at all.

He had changed, but not really. He was still the same Sunghoon. Only stronger, leaner, harder, darker, and more attractive. It scared you, he scared you. Yet, you wanted to reach out and talk to him. But to your utter dismay, he just walked past you. And before you knew, he was long gone. Again.

Sunghoon kept telling himself that he was not a stalker, but it had been five days and this was his fifth time your bakeshop. He just couldn’t go inside. So for those five days, he contented himself with parking in front of your shop, and watching from inside his car.

When he saw you again, he had a big idea in mind, and yes, that was the reason why he kept going to your bakeshop. Sadly, he would always go home without seeing you.

He couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between you and your employees. Their table wasn’t that far from the counter so it was inevitable. He was surprised that you didn’t notice him right away. But if Sunghoon were to talk about surprising things, what he heard was even more surprising.

It looked like karma found its way to Lee Heeseung. He should be happy about it and somehow, he was.

Heeseung took something from him, someone important, so Sunghoon should take someone important from him too.

A sister for a sister. An eye for an eye.

He glanced at his watch and told himself that this should be the perfect time. He got out of his car and walked straight towards the bakeshop. It was already past eight o’clock, but the bakeshop was still almost full.

He noticed the two service crew he saw last time, staring at him, but they immediately turned their backs on him. He approached them.

“Told you, the person inside the black car that is always parked in front of the shop isn’t a bad person. Look at him, he’s too handsome to be a bad person.” He heard the girl he assumed the name was Ningning.

“Seriously? Just because someone isn’t physically attractive doesn’t mean they’re a bad person, you know? And not everyone who looks good is automatically good. You’re being too judgmental.” Sunoo rebuked.

“And what thing could he possibly do, huh?” Ningning asked sarcastically.

“Hello? Ever heard of the saying ‘looks can be deceiving’?” Sunghoon tried not to smirk. Because their backs were facing him, they weren’t able to notice him approaching a while ago.

“Excuse me?” He said, gaining attention from the two. Ningning turned around, her eyes slightly widened.

“Yes, Sir? How can we help you?” Despite the surprise, she quickly regained her composure.

Sunghoon gave her a slight smile. “Um, I’m looking for Y/n. Is she here?” He noticed the two exchanged glances as Ningning seemed a bit hesitant before responding.

“May I ask what’s your relation to Miss Y/n, Sir?”

“I’m a friend. I’d like to have a word with her.”

“Miss Y/n is still in her office.” He saw her co-worker elbowed her, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. “If you’d like, you can have a seat while waiting for her.”

“Okay, Thank you.” He said, walking around the shop to find a comfortable seat. And he couldn’t help but to overhear their conversation once again.

“Friend? Then why am I just seeing him now?”

“I don’t know. He seems nice to me even though he looks a bit harsh.”

“Oh well. Good thing Jake is not here or else he might get jealous.”

For some godforsaken reason, he found his heart tightening at the name he just heard. Who was this Jake guy that might get jealous over him? Is it your Suitor? Boyfriend? Fiance? Sunghoon clenched his jaw. Just imagining another man touching a strand of your inky black hair made him feel sick.

He sat on an empty table near the counter and patiently waited there.

“Ningning, Sunoo, I’m leaving. Will you two be alright staying?” Said the enticing voice near the counter. He glanced over and saw you there.

“Call me whenever something happened, alright? I’ll get going.”

“Oh, Y/n! someone is looking for you.” Ningning said before she forgot. Your brows furrowed as you looked Ningning with a puzzled expression.

“Who?”

Sunghoon stood up and spoke. “Me.” He watched your eyes grow wide with shock as he walked towards you. “Can we talk?”

“I… Of course.” You absent-mindedly nodded. You pointed at the room where you came from. “Let’s go to my office.”

The air tensed up the moment you both entered your office. You sat on your chair as Sunghoon took the visitor’s chair. His eyes were trained on your face while you were looking down on your lap. No one dared to speak. It was dead quiet inside the room, a silent standstill.

Sunghoon decided not to make rhings more awkward. “It’s been a while Y/n.” Great, you suck at opening conversations, man. He honestly wanted to smack himself.

You looked up and your eyes met. “Yeah, it has been a while. How are you?” You slightly smiled at him.

“I’m doing great. You? How are you? I heard your having problems at the ranch.” He paused at what he said. It made him wonder if he was rushing the conversation.

“How did you know?” You asked hesitantly. “The town is a small place, Y/n.” She firmly pressed her lips together. For someone sweet and innocent-looking, you could be fiery too.

“Yes, there’s a big problem at the ranch, but it would be solved in no time.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at the intensity he heard in your voice. “According to what I’ve heard, you were having troubles finding the money needed to fix things on your ranch. So, I came here to offer a proposal.” He leaned on the chair and watched your confused face. You were always this transparent, it’s likely that you now think he’s going crazy.

“What proposal?” You asked with confusion written all over your face.

“I will lend the money you need for the ranch, but you have to marry me.” His simple answer seemed like he was just inviting you to go out ang have a picnic. You looked at him with an unreadable expression before you respond.

“I’m going to what?!”

“You heard me.” He knew it was unnecessary because she could always reach him if she wanted to. But Sunghoon still took a business card from his wallet and placed it on the table.

“I want you to think about it. Call me whenever you made up your mind.”

You stood up from your seat and looked at him with hard eyes. “If you’re just playing around like you used to do, just leave, Sunghoon. Don’t waste my time.”

He also stood up to remind you of the significant height difference you both had.

“I’m not fooling around, Y/n. I’m dead serious.”

“Then why? Why would you want to marry me?” You asked, still stunned be his offer.

“For revenge, I guess? I’ll lend your dear brother the money to help with the recovery of your ranch. But after that, you will cut ties with him. You can’t meet him nor even talk to him.” He took a deep breath before letting out the next heavy words.

“He took my sister from me, I will take you away from him. It’s my kind of revenge.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smirked but once again quickly turned serious. “Whose fault is that?”

“Why would you think would I agree to that?” You tilted you chin up, trying to defy him. Too bad, it was futile. The corner of his mouth went up again. “Because you’ve got no other option.”

“You’re insane.”

“Crazy? Insane? Well, maybe you could come up with something more colorful after this.” He grabbed your nape and captured you sinfully pink lips. The table wasn’t able to hinder him from giving you something that would shake your world.

—

Your heart was pounding as you proceeded to enter your house. You still couldn’t believe what just happened thirty minutes ago. The Sunghoon whom you secretly love, and the friend who suddenly left you and your brother returned to shake up your world once again.

One slap wasn’t enough for what he did to you. And he has the audacity to be the one walking out after his recklessness.

You touched your lips. Until now, you still feel the young man’s kiss and the warmth of his lips brushing against yours. It was a shocking first time and definitely a memorable one. But despite all that, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

You took a deep breath before walking to the kitchen to get something to drink. But on your way, your gaze drifted towards the study room. The room was slightly ajar. You approached and entered.

You saw your brother sitting on the swivel chair with his eyes closed. He looks beat and tired and it pained you. If there’s only something you could do to help solve this problem, you had already done it.

Then it hit you. You could do something to help you dear brother and fix the problem. Only, there was a price to pay.

It has already been ten years since Sunghoon’s sister died. Maybe it’s time for you to do something to make him forgive your brother and move on. Maybe you could at least give him a bit of happiness, maybe you could do something to bring him back to his old self.

You glanced at your brother. Please, trust me on this.

It would be hard, you knew. But you needed to do something to save them all.

“We’re here,” Sunghoon announced. “Nervous?”

You looked out the car window and surveyed the grand mansion that would become your new home. Your heart was racing, and you felt like your heartbeat was at one hundred and seventy bars per minute. You felt nauseous, your hands were badly sweating and you were having a hard time breathing.

No, you weren’t nervous. You were having an anxiety attack.

Sunghoon unbuckled your seatbelt before holding your face with both hands, waiting for to look into his eyes. His eyes were dark and sensual. Nope, it didn’t help you calm down a bit.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” He asked with concern in his voice. He felt your forehead and neck as if checking if you had a fever.

You felt electricity ran through your body because of his touch. Feeling as if you were burning, you pulled away from him and averted your gaze somewhere else.

“I’m fine. It’s just that, this was all so sudden.” You noticed his expression darken from the corner of your eyes.

“Then get used to it because you’re my wife starting today.”

Before you could even respond, he already exited the car and opened the passenger side door for you. He took the duffle bag containing a few pieces of your clothes. He then held your hand as you both walked towards the mansion.

“Don’t be so stiff, Y/n. There’s no way I would hurt you, you know?”

You knew Sunghoon was telling the truth, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. He wouldn’t hurt you, he said. Still, he had the power to, especially now that you were married.

It all happened so fast. Just last week you were still a Lee, and you still couldn’t believe that you are now Mrs. Park.

After that night, you went to your bakery and called Sunghoon the next morning. And a week later, you were now married. No entourage, reception or whatsoever.

After the civil wedding with the judge that Sunghoon knew, you went straight to the mansion, you didn’t even manage to say goodbye to your brother who was currently not in korea.

At the mansion’s door, you were both greeted by Aunt Chul, the house keeper. Sunghoon and his sister had nannies when they were children, but they remained closest to the woman.

“Dear!” Aunt Chul greeted you as she gave you a warm hug, then gently held your face as she pulled away.

“How are you? It has been so long and you grew beautifully, Dear.”

Despite everything, you were able to put a happy and genuine smile on your face. “Thank you, Auntie. I’m doing great, and you?”

“Oh, I’m not getting any younger, dear! I think I can count the remaining black hairs I have left.” The woman joked, laughing slightly.

“You still look great, Auntie.” You smiled at her, shaking you head slightly.

“You’re still the same old playful one, aren’t you?” she teased. “Now come get inside, I prepared you both something to eat.”

She turned to Sunghoon and looked at him. “Let me take that bag, son.”

“Oh, no. We can handle this, Auntie. Thank you.” He said embracing the elderly person.

“My wife and I are just going to have a talk before we eat.” You froze when you heard him say the word ‘wife’. Yes, there’s no mistaking it. You really are Park Sunghoon’s wife.

When you glanced at the woman, there’s not a trace of surprise marred her serene face, which puzzled you.

“Alright, you know where to go when you two want to eat.” She smiled softly.

Sunghoon guided you upstairs to the room where you’re staying.

The room was definitely Sunghoon, very neat and manly. The walls were painted white, accommodating the rich hue of the big bed and built-in cabinets. Everything was well placed and clean.

“You may find my room dull and boring.” He said as he placed your bag on the side of the dresser. “But you may refurnish it however you like. Have the walls painted, the curtains changed. Just don’t put too much pink.”

You blushed at what he said, you were a girl who has a deep obsession with color pink ever since. And it seems like he still remembers that about you. But as much as you wanted to renovate the room and make it appear more your style, you wouldn’t do so. You liked the room as it was.

You didn’t notice Sunghoon approaching, so you gasped when you felt your husband pulling you by the waist closer to him.

“Let’s talk.”

“Y-yes, of course – Sunghoon!” You let out a small scream as the strong man lifted you up, and you had no choice but to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Sunghoon, what the hell are you doing?”

“I was supposed to carry you over the threshold, but I knew that you would snap at me if Aunt Chul sees us.” He answered with a gorgeous grin on his face. For a minute, he looked like the boy you used to know.

The guy you used to love.

But no matter how handsome the young man appeared to you now, you still couldn’t stop the seething the anger in your heart towards him.

“And you think I wouldn’t do that now? I did that once before, I could do it again.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m more prepared this time.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes. He dropped you onto the bed and hovered above you. You gasped for air when you felt his hard body on top of yours. You were sure that when you entered this room, the AC was on, but for some reason the air became thick and hot and filled with desire.

“I t-thought we’re going to talk?” Your voice was shaky and far different from you challenging voice earlier.

“We are. We’ll talk like this.” He lowered his head and nestled into your neck. You had never been intimate with any man. This was new to you. Your heart was beating wildly and you afraid Sunghoon would hear it.

You felt so warm, it was as if your bones were melting. It felt good to be this close to him. And he had been hugging you for a while now. He was the only man who could make you feel extreme emotions.

“I told them about us.” You heard him mumble, his hot breath licking your cold neck.

“You… what?” You asked, disoriented.

“I told everyone in this house about us. Even my dad that’s currently in Japan.” He lifted his head and looked at you as if you as if he wanted to know what you were thinking, if not to absorb your very soul.

“You told them about our agreement?”

“No, I only told them that we were getting married. That I couldn’t wait about Dad’s arrival. That we saw each other again, and instantly fell in love. So make sure to be a loving wife to me, especially in front of them.”

As if he needed to say it. “Of course. But I hope you don’t forget about the other part of the agreement. The money, Sunghoon. I need it.”

“I didn’t forget about that. I’ll give it to your brother as soon as I see him.”

“Glad to hear tha—“

Sunghoon slowly lowered his head, your eyes widened. “Wait, what are you-“

“You’re mine, Y/n. Including your body.” He said with his tempting mouth.

You wanted to stop him and tell him to stop what he was doing, but no words came out of your lips. Instead, a sound coming from your stomach halted your husband’s advances. You didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or thankful. You were saved, not by the bell, but by your tummy.

God! Sunghoon didn’t need to smile, amusement was in his eyes.

“Maybe we should eat first.” Sunghoon withdrew from being pressed against you, stood up, and extended his hand towards you.

“Come.” You hesitantly took his hand and stood up as well, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Do you still know the way to the dining room?” He asked as you refused to meet his gaze, just nodding in response.

“Do you mind going there alone? I just needed to call someone. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

You just nodded again and quickly left the room. Usually, after the wedding comes the honeymoon. Or in your case, funnymoon.

—

The moment you—or rather, his wife—stepped outside, Sunghoon finally let go of the smile he had been holding back.

Yes, you had become matured and become tough over the past few years, but in many ways, you still hadn’t really changed. You were still funny, cute, adorable, and his.

His previously bright face was now replaced by a blank expression. Finally, Heeseung would experience what it was like to lose someone important to him. The only difference is that no one would die.

He wouldn’t hurt you, at least, not intentionally ang physically. Never. Heeseung was still lucky that Sunghoon had some semblance of a heart left.

All he wanted was to emotionally torture him. He would make his heart bleed in sorrow, until he would beg him to stop.

And that would start now.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number. On the third ring, the person he was trying to reach answered.

“Yes, hello?”

His grip on the device tightened upon hearing the voice of the man he despises.

“Heeseung.”

He could taste the bitterness in his own voice. The man on the other line wasn’t able to respond immediately, so he continued.

“I heard you’re not in korea right now.”

“No, I’m not. What do you need, Sunghoon?”

He asked directly, without preamble.

Nothing, you’re the one who’s going to need something from me.

“Nothing, really. But if I were you, I’d go back to korea right now.”

He could already see the furrow on his former friend’s face. Soon he would face his range, but instead of being afraid, he would actually be glad to see it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s Y/n. She left your house and she’s with me now. Too bad you weren’t there when she left.”

It was a shame for Sunghoon the he couldn’t see firsthand how the person on the other line is reacting.

He bet it would be priceless.

“You son of a bitch. What did you do to her?!”

He heard the grinding of his interlocutor’s teeth making him chuckle sarcastically.

“You asshole!”

“Yeah, Heeseung. Curse me all you want, but I’ll make sure that you will never get see your sister again. I will make you pay for all the things you did. Prepare yourself because I will take you to the hell you put me through.”

He ended the call. With his hands shaking, he exhaled sharply. He forced himself to calm down before he began to walk out of the room.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to the dining room just yet. He’s still feeling the anger coursing through his body, and he didn’t want anyone to see him like that, especially you.

But when he saw your beautiful face with a smile plastered on it while chatting with Aunt Chul, the heavy emotions enveloping him suddenly dissipated.

While looking at you glowing face, he lost the bitterness and pain that he had been feeling. Your bright smile simply made the pain go away. He was certain of what he was feeling. About his fear ang pain going away.

He took a deep breath once again ang approached the two, specifically you. He leaned down and kissed you on the forehead, disregarding the watchful eyes of the elderly person nearby.

“What are you two talking about?” He asked. Aunt Chul smiled at him and seemed to chat with him like a child.

“I never knew Y/n had a bakeshop in town. If I’m not mistaken, one of the helpers bought the bread I liked there. Turns out Y/n was the owner.”

He sat beside you and held your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Yeah, her pastries and sweets are indeed famous in town.” He stated, smiling proudly.

“Y/n also told me the she hasn’t had a boyfriend. She had suitors, but didn’t accept any of them.” The woman gossiped.

“Auntie!” You playfully reprimanded the her.

Sunghoon threw a glance at you. “Oh?”

His face lit up, secretly smiling to himself. So it was likely that the guy named Jake whom your employees were referring to was you suitor. He suddenly felt relieved. He glanced at your plate that is still empty.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” He asked you as you shook your head in response.

“Not yet. I was busy chatting with auntie.”

“Tell you what, Sunghoon. Your wife was just really waiting for you to come here.” Aunt Chul remarked.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two love birds alone to enjoy your food.”

Once the two of you were left alone, Sunghoon couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face.

“So, you were waiting for me, huh?” He said teasingly.

“I wasn’t waiting for you. The conversation with Auntie just really hit the spot.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s eat.”

They ate in silence. You sat beside him quietly with your head bowed as you eat. You were like some kind of a shy teenager sitting next to her crush.

Sunghoon smiled a little as he remembered their happy memories. You were just like this back then when you two are being teased together. You would blush furiously and he just enjoy the teasing.

“I’ll go upstairs to take a shower ang get changed.” You said after he was done eating.

But before you could fully stand up, he pulled you back into the chair and bestowed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Please don’t tempt me like that.” Your eye widened and your lips parted in surprise. Your face reddened and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. You quickly stood up and rushed away from him.

Well, it was useless since no matter what you do, you were already his. Nothing could ever separate you from him, not even your brother.

Sunghoon’s smile faded, and his eyes grew cold.

You would be forever his, and you had no idea of what the future lies ahead of you.

281 notes · View notes

gffa · 10 months

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It is still absolutely a marvel to me how much BATFAMILY fic I have been reading and enjoying, it's been awhile since I've gone at such a sustained fever pitch so consistently, which is because this fandom keeps putting out fic that makes me fall in love all over again, along with all the comics I've been reading and enjoying. I am so delighted by how I can bounce around various eras or characters (well, let's be fair, I still have a Dick Grayson Problem That I Am Making Your Problem Too) and there's so much to read that I'm having trouble keeping up!

Join me in having the best problem: Too much good fic to read, because I swear that even when I'm crying because fic has punched me in the feelings, I'm still having a great time and it's definitely not a trap to lure you all into crying with me. Well, unless you're into that. And, in that case, READ AND CRY AND/OR MELT INTO GOO WITH ME, BECAUSE FANDOM IS PROVIDING.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ Step One: Learning to Catch by TheBlueMoo, dick & bruce, 2k “Okay, now extend your arms.” It was jarring, Bruce reflected, to be taking instructions from his nine-year-old ward. He was trying to think of it as receiving lessons from an expert gymnast instead, but it wasn’t really helping. or Dick freaks out during training one night, and Bruce isn't entirely sure why ✦ the quiet noise by orphan_account, dick & clark & jim (& bruce), 3.4k When Batman is in surgery after a stab wound to the lung, Commissioner Gordon sits with Robin at the hospital as they wait for someone from the league to arrive. ✦ The art of falling in the rain by Bob_the_bastard, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.4k Ordinarily it wouldn’t have been an issue, ordinarily Bruce would have taken a few steps back, caught his breath and continued on. But that night wasn’t normal. ✦ Our roots will not whither away by KrazySuperGirl, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 6.4k Bruce and Dick return to Gotham. There are plenty of problems and plenty of good days. ✦ Will Protect You From All Around You by zombiesbecrazy, dick & bruce, 3k Bruce has always expected that one day he'll wake up and feel like a Real Adult, but it hasn't happened yet. Why had he thought that this parenting thing would be easy? ✦ Fly South by SonoSvegliato, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.9k Birds fly south in winter. Robin leaves in the summer. ✦ Vertigo by tinycrown, dick & bruce & ollie & cast, 1.8k After being ambushed by Count Vertigo's men, Batman's partner isn't doing so well. Green Arrow observes. ✦ Friends by mx_chrx99, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k The manor loomed large, surrounded by acres of manicured grass and trees bursting with autumnal colors that made Dick feel like he was gazing at a forest on fire. He was distantly aware that the scene in front of him was incredible, something out of a storybook. He should have been amazed and even grateful, but all he could think was, 'Mom would have loved this.' ✦ There For You by Val_Creative, dick & bruce & cast, 2.4k Snapshots of how Robin came to be Batman's trusted partner and how Dick became Bruce's beloved son. /Standalone. No pairings. ✦ tummy troubles by brandywine421, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.5k Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed and warily pulled back the covers. Dick blinked at him with wide, sad blue eyes. "What's wrong?" "Don't feel good," he murmured, scowling when Bruce curled his hand against his cheek. "My stomach hurts." ✦ Stay a Child by ijustwanttodestroy, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.2k “Redo it,” Bruce orders. “Aw, come on!” Dick dares to pout — a thing that he uses often, and would work on anyone but Bruce and Alfred. Sometimes. Bruce gives him a look. “I’m not going to do it for you.” “I’m going to misdo it until you do,” Dick threatens. ✦ Whole, but not hale by Fae_Winter, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 1.5k Bruce was never listening to Clark again, damnit ✦ Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes by catboysam, dick & bruce, 1k Bruce wishes, as he has wished every minute of every day for nearly 20 years, that things were different for himself. But now he also wishes that for Dick. No child should have to experience what they have. But he really is selfish, it seems, because at the same time, how could he possibly want to give up a single second with this little miracle in his arms? ✦ yet to be friends by rxsecret, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 2.3k It's the annual Wayne Gala, and one of the few reporters allowed at the event just so happened to be from Metropolis. ✦ And I’ll look into your eyes to find out if I’m real by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick, 1.6k Bruce wants a lot of things. A bath. Seeing his family. Not having been missing for a whole year. He wants Dick to wake up and realize he’s not a hallucination.

BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ medicine by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, ~1k “We have to get out of here,” Dick says, trying and failing to sit up. “Before, before they get back.” “Dick, listen to me. You’re sick,” Bruce says, running a hand through Dick’s hair. “You’re in an isolation unit at the Watchtower’s medical bay.” Dick shakes his head. That can’t be right. “They’re trying to, to poison me.” ✦ Someday All Of This Will Go Away by WanderIntoFics, dick & bruce, alternate version character death, 2.3k Bruce never stopped telling Dick he loved him. It takes a heart-wrenching and terrifying experience with an alternate future Bruce for Dick to realize that maybe he stopped being able to hear it. ✦ vacation town by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1.6k Normally, Dick wouldn't enjoy recovering from a stab wound from a poisoned knife, but he has to admit, it's nice to be home. ✦ all i can by emavee, dick & bruce, 1.7k Whatever they injected Dick with is taking away his senses. Bruce tries to hold on for both of them. ✦ my arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm by emavee, dick & bruce, 5.6k wip Five times Dick held Bruce's hand, and one time Bruce held his. ✦ Moving on by Fleur_de_Violette, dick & bruce & cast, 2.7k When he’d been called to Gotham, Dick had expected to do the job and then get moving to the next thing, and then the next, and then the next. An abrupt meeting with the side of a building interrupts his plans.

BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Chatterbox by Ptelea, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & donna & roy & cast, 24.7k "Yeah, I'm fine," Dick said. Then he frowned, because he had not just meant to say that. Or: Eight times that spells or serums affected Dick's ability to speak and / or their aftermath. ✦ Misremembered and Misnumbered by miss_aphelion, bruce & dick & jason & clark & diana, 1.9k Dick may not actually be quite as old as he told everyone he was. In his defense, it wasn't so much lying as that he sort of just forgot. ✦ WE'LL LIVE IN SPACES BETWEEN WALLS. by orpheusaki, bruce & dick & jason, time travel, 4.6k (Something is different about Dick. Bruce notices.) ✦ Tonight Will Be a Memory Too by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & cass & bruce, 1.2k They don’t happen often—once a month or so, with varying degrees of spottiness. Sometimes Dick will walk into a room and forget what he’s there for. He’ll forget the locations of things, like where he left his keys or where the refrigerator is. Once he forgot his own name. Even if the episodes don’t occur often, that doesn’t make them any less terrifying. ✦ Can I Sleep With You? by Lady_of_Lorule, dick & bruce & damian & titans & cast, 2k “Dick? What is it? Are you okay?” he asked. “‘Had a nightmare,” the boy murmured, wiping at his nose quickly, then sending a darting look at Bruce. “Can I...can I sleep with you?” ✦ Broken Silence by Geeves, bruce & dick & cast, 1.3k Bruce reflects on how quiet the manor used to be. It could be painful at times, but it's not like that anymore. ✦ the care and keeping of your baby talon by quandaries_and_contradictions, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & duke & alfred, reverse robins, talon!dick, 6k In which everyone is more than a little cautious about the talon Duke brought home. Featuring chandelier swinging, Secret Garden reading, ill-advised sleuthing, and more. ✦ One, Two, Buckle My Shoe by Anonymous, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 11.3k wip Dick was twenty-eight. The boy in the mirror most certainly was not. ✦ Iron Bound by coyote_nebula, bruce & dick & jason, 3.1k Batman never ran out of solutions. He just ran out of ideal solutions. Nightwing finds himself in a tight spot involving a compact car-sized paper roll. ✦ The Mantle by ValleyOfKings, dick & clark & diana & justice league (& bruce) & cast, 2.9k Batman ‘dies’ and Dick must takes his place. He doesn't want the job but he knows that it is what he must do. He must accept the mantle and protect Gotham. The Justice League must also accept their new Batman. It might have helped if they knew that Batman didn't work as alone as they had once thought. ✦ Bravery, and everything that looks like it by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick & steph, 3.4k Bruce had promised Dick a fun and chill weekend. Instead, they find themselves in the middle of a burning chemical facility. When he thinks everyone should have been evacuated, Nightwing finds a scientist trying to secure some sort of container. She’s either very brave, or she has a death wish.

BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I'M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ Superhero: Dick Grayson by batmoniker, dick & jason & cast, 5.3k In which Dick shows up at the school to pick Jason up after he gets into a fight. ✦ Homecoming by sElkieNight60, dick & jason & bruce, 1.2k Jason's doped up on pain-meds. Dick's holding his hand while he's bedside monitor. Bruce probably wishes he had a camera. ✦ I do not have wings love (I never will) by dizarys, dick & jason & bruce, 2.5k Jason Todd was alive. He was also bleeding out on Dick Grayson’s apartment floor. How 'Under the Red Hood' might have ended if Dick was at Bruce and Jason's final warehouse confrontation.

BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ cashmere-soft and irresistible by victoria_p (musesfool), cass/steph, ~1k Cass and Steph and dumplings and lipstick. ✦ Picking Up Pieces by Cephalogod, bruce & steph & dick, 4k “Bruce!” Steph called as she approached, weaving between people. His head snapped towards her, and the stark relief in his expression almost stopped her in her tracks. That was just...wrong. Bruce wasn’t supposed to be relieved to see her. He was supposed to be annoyed or resignedly amused, not looking at her like a life raft in the ocean. ✦ Make an Ass of U and Me by Huntress79, Sevidri, bruce/clark & dick, 11.2k Bruce neglects to explain exactly who the attractive young man that seems to know him so well is, and what their relationship entails. Naturally, there are some misunderstandings. ✦ Presque Vu by PechoraFlow, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred & cast, 17.4k wip Bruce gets amnesia and the Batfamily conspires to keep their vigilante side secret from him. They were just trying to keep him home, safe until he recovered. They expected that Bruce would pick up on clues and put together The Batman secret on his own. They didn't expect him to form a different picture entirely. They didn't expect Bruce Wayne would come to hate the Batman.

BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NO ONE WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ spread your wings by wingedgrace, dick & tim, 2.1k “Why did you give Robin to Damian?” Dick pinched his nose. He’d started to pick up some of Batman’s habits, whether he realized it or not. “Tim, we’re not talking about this again. We’re talking about how you’re off on this… quest, to prove that Bruce is still alive. And I just want to talk. Come home.” ✦ Time Loop vs Ethiopia by AJElementus, dick & tim (& bruce & jason), 9.1k In one universe, Jason died while Dick was on a space mission with the Titans. In another? There’s a time loop. In which Jason doesn’t die, Tim joins the family early, and Dick... well... Dick's just trying to figure out what's going on! ✦ so won't you stay, won't you stay (with me?) by dizarys, dick & tim, 1.3k Tim's having a hard night. So where else does he go but to his big brother's apartment? ✦ under the wing by acrobats, dick & tim & cast, 1.4k “Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.” – Marc Brown

BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ buy back the secrets by sundiscus, tim/kon & bruce & clark & jason & cast, 71k wip He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.” Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy. ✦ Can't Shake the Feeling by Hayleythewriter, tim/kon & tim/bernard & cassie & bart & dick & damian & cast, 17k Tim introduces his boyfriend to his friends. Almost everyone likes him. ✦ The Electric Pull of Spring by Merelymine, tim/kon, nsfw, 4.3k "I feel fine," Kon says, breathing deeply. He leans towards Tim and takes an even deeper, longer breath. "I feel really, really good, actually. And you smell—you smell really good." ✦ A No Good Very Bad Day by mademoisellePlume, tim/kon & jason & lois, read the tags, 3.7k You’d think drugging a half-Kryptonian into sleep would be half as easy as taking a full Kryptonian out of commission. But no, life couldn’t be that simple for Jason, could it? He watched Superboy stumble down the hallway in his pyjama pants, eyes half-lidded and sweating like Two-Face when a flipped coin balanced on its edge. ✦ Pandora's Other Box by FridaysChild, tim/kon & dick & bart & kate & ma kent, 2.5k Prompt: "Kon and Tim identify as straight. After realising their mutual attraction, they both freak out in different ways."

BATFAM FIC RECS - I SAY THIS IS A BATFAM REC LIST BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHOVE THOSE ASSHOLES OUT OF THE WAY AND READ SOME SUPERFIC: ✦ Adoptions by Kannika, clark & conner & cast, 2.7k Clark prepared for a lot of things, getting closer to Conner. This is not one of them. ✦ Aftershock by sElkieNight60, clark/lois & conner & jon, 13k wip He knows this is awkward for Clark. It’s awkward for them both. They were gonna start slow. Warm up to each other. Maybe go apple-picking in the summer. A movie, a restaurant, bowling, or something. But a sleepover, really? That wasn’t going slow. ✦ IS IT JUST YOU AND ME IN THE WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD? by orpheusaki, clark & conner & bruce & diana & jason & cast, 2.2k "You look happy, Kal." She's right, Clark is overjoyed. In between shopping for children's clothes with Lois (after she'd gotten over the shock of it all, which was surprisingly quick. Clark thinks Lois might prefer Conner to him now, not that he blames her for it) and wandering around the Fortress of Solitude with a small palm tucked into his own, Clark hasn't stopped grinning, "Superman is no longer the only Kryptonian alive." (Clark saves Conner from CADMUS as a child AU.)

BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ oh but if I could choose, I would choose not to feel by dizarys, bruce & dick & donna & cast, 1.4k His eyes flicked over the long room, evaluating and searching. When he finally spotted him, Bruce’s heart plummeted. Dick Grayson was slouched at the crumb flecked bar counter, staring blankly into a barely touched pint with a hand twisted in his hair. Misery personified. ✦ batman by hellsreluctantheir, dick & jason & tim & bruce, 57.3k Dick came back from a trip to space to a dead father figure, a grieving, guilty little brother, and a legacy waiting for him. Suddenly he's moving back to Gotham, playing Bat, trying to keep Jason from spiraling, trying to keep himself from spiraling, with the added bonus of a kid stalking him at the grocery store. It takes two years before things start to feel like they're getting better. Which is right about when the Red Hood comes to town. ✦ Day 3 - Nightmares (2.2) by fanfictiongreenirises, bruce & dick & tim, 3.3k Bruce is resigned to the nightmares after their most recent kidnapping. But that doesn't mean they don't have an impact on him. ✦ My Brother's Keeper by Chemical_Processes, dick & damian & tim & cast, 6.2k Tim gets hit with Fear while on a league mission, and it's Damian's job to get him home in one piece. ✦ Pale Reflections by BearlyWriting, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cast, 2.6k ‘Bruce blinks again. A chill breeze brushes against him, searching for a way through his uniform. Concrete, Bruce tells himself, it’s concrete, not sand. It’s water, not blood. It’s Dick. And yet, he’s as still as Jason was then, as lifeless. Bruce moves without thinking. He isn’t thinking. His mind is utterly blank, a void in his head.’ ✦ love brought weight to this heart by dizarys, bruce & dick & john & mary & damian & duke, 1.9k Of course Dick came by every time Haly’s was in town. But he loved when his family was able to join him. And now, with lights illuminating the big top, performers streaming into the ring with flashy costumes, and his family enthralled, Dick felt at peace. Both sides of his life were together. It should’ve been perfect. And looking back, he still wasn’t sure what pushed it off course. But it might have been the fire. ✦ what's in a name by envysparkler, bruce & dick & jason, 4.5k Kidnappers strike at a gala and abduct two of Bruce Wayne’s sons. Or at least that’s what they think. ✦ I’m gambling with the sun (on which one of us dies young) by dizarys, dick & jason & donna & roy & tim & damian & cassandra & cast, 6.9k The Justice League have been wiped from existence by Pariah, leaving Nightwing to once again navigate the death of Batman. But this time, even with his siblings and friends rallying around him, the cracks start to show ✦ (someone told me) love would all save us by YouAreTheBrightest234 (TransLucas), bruce & dick & tim, 1k Dick is floating in an abyss of black. It is not peaceful, yet not malicious. It simply is. ✦ Slipping 998° by CKBookish, bruce & dick & tim & cast, 2.5k When a house fire turns deadly Bruce wonders if he will be too late... again.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #clark kent #conner kent #timkon #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post #really long post

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belokhvostikova · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | An apology is definitely at hand, and Eddie cements it when he drunkenly appears at your house despite your clear disdain.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, descriptions of depression, self-deprecating thoughts, alcohol consumption, driving while intoxicated, mentions of neglectful parents, mentions of childhood abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, brief allusions to eating disorders, and brief mentions of predatory behavior.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | So sorry for the confusion, I was simply updating the color scheme of this chapter when an error was found in my tag list, which I had to edit. I had to remove the tag list, but everyone who was already in the list or asked to be will still continue to be tagged as new chapters are released.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

You stayed in your bedroom. Not studying. Not reading. Not eating. Barely even moving. The concavity of teals and pastels with trinkets and knick-knacks that constituted the room you found solace in for the last twelve years of your life had swallowed you whole. The bookcase. The vanity. The dying plants begging for life in a personified reflection to your state. Your knees. Your fingers. Your sullen face in the smudged mirror. You listened to the sounds around you. The cars. The birds. The buzzing bees of the blistering spring. So lively, not you. Your father, the whirring indication of the coffee machine that kept him alive, the clearing of his throat, and the crinkle of his newspaper, as if he didn’t proclaim the nastiest words of failure and disappointment against the child he fathered neglectfully. But you had everything—food, a roof, money—who were you to complain, right? Your bladder is full, it hurts, yet you don’t dare to move. You suck in a breath, forgetting to do so innately. Everything has become manual. Your breathing, your thinking, your will.

You’re eighteen, a senior in high school, and you want to go to college. Which one? The farthest one. You’re merely a girl, a teenage girl, a teenage girl deemed a slut because you were nice to a boy. Nothing more, nothing less. Until the next day, where you would be deduced to a whore, because that was the inevitable step for a teenage girl who was nice to a boy. And that’s all you think of. All you repeat. Because you don’t want to remember more. You just want to wait. For what? You don’t know. So you think, you sit, and you wait. Just waiting until there’s nothing more to wait for.

Maybe when you learn to let go, you’ll finally be free.

Perhaps it was the jocular facet of Wayne Munson’s personality that humored the struggling reality of his life, or maybe it was as superficial as he liked to quip an occasional joke here or there, either way, the same teasing line declaring his rambunctious nephew to be the cause of his exceeding aging—the one that always got a good chuckle out of his buddies while sharing a beer or a shy giggle from the tired waitress who worked the overnight shift just to serve him his coffee in the early hours of the morning—was vastly proving to be a coping mechanism, because Wayne Munson swore he could feel a new wrinkle brandishing his forehead as his nephew was on the verge of getting suspended… and failing… and arrested.

Eddie Munson truly did age the poor man into oblivion.

“…Twenty-two tardies, fourteen absences, thirteen detentions…”

Wayne briefly freed the indented grays of his head from one of his many beloved trucker hats before securing it back on. His calloused fingers splayed against his stressed eyebrows at an attempt to alleviate the impending pain with a heavy sigh. It was midday. He should be resting for his coming shift at the plant. But here he was, having a parent meeting with the principal for his twenty-year-old boy.

“…Persistent insubordination, frequent public outbursts, and repeated offense of inappropriate comments made against staff…”

That one made Eddie giggle. Oh, Mrs. O’Donell.

“Okay, okay,” Wayne politely interjected with a tight-lipped smile, “I think I get the picture here.”

Principal Higgins scoffed incredulously, as he dropped the particularly heavy file of Eddie’s extensive high school record. “Respectfully, I don’t think you do, sir.” Eddie rolled his eyes, as he apathetically slumped in the chair. “Your nephew has been tormenting the sanctity of my establishment for six years, six years, sir, and he’s in for a seventh after assaulting a fellow student on school grounds!”

“Oh, please, Carver deserved it-”

“Ed.” Wayne gritted with sternness.

“Mr. Munson, I specifically warned you of the potential consequences of another detention or suspension, and you went ahead and disobeyed my word! Now, charges are being threatened! This is monstrous! Vile, even! Blasphemous-”

“I told you, that jockstrap deserved it!” Eddie sat up to defend his stance, blatantly ignoring his uncle's plea to calm down. “Why aren’t you getting him in trouble, huh?! He’s the one that started all this shit! Going around and spreading lies about Y/N!”

And maybe this is when Eddie should have shut up, because the way Principal Higgins eyes bulged at the revelation honestly kinda freaked Eddie out a bit.

“Ms. Y/L/N?!” Higgins spit odiously. “This is about Ms. Y/L/N?!”

Wayne blinked between both men. “Who’s Y/N Y/L/N?”

The poor man’s presence had long been disregarded. Once again, this had been extrapolated into a battle between Higgins and Munson, a long six year war that seemed to have no ending. And you, well, you fell victim in the crossfire, left unaided, to die, vulnerable to the vultures of Hawkins High that got to pick you apart free of consequences. Because that was human nature for a small town that capitalized the American Dream with infiltrations of conservatism and conformity for the need to prioritize normalcy. And Eddie Munson was not normal, therefore you were not normal. Because you took his fucking picture.

“In my years of administration, I have never, and I mean never, have had this much havoc from two students!” It became quite astounding how much a single vein could protrude from a reddening forehead of a forty-seven-year-old man.

“This isn’t her fault!” Eddie burdened to emphasize. “Why are you always blaming her?! You used to love parading her achievements around as if they were yours, and now that she’s friends with me,” you weren’t friends with him, “you suddenly got your little feelings hurt?! You’re unbelievable!” Eddie sneered with a heavy breath and condescending laugh.

Now, Higgins had been far too familiar with Eddie’s bite, but the abrupt revelation had the man searching for words that would excuse his exaggerating behavior. “I-I, uh, well, I… t-this- this isn’t about Ms. Y/L/N, this is about you, Mr. Munson, and what you did!”

Wayne had reached his wits end, “Alright, alr-”

“What? Rightfully put Carver in his place? Yeah, I did-”

“Alright.” Wayne’s jaw was heavy with tension as a stern scrape of his teeth was gritted to end the commotion. “Look, I truly do not have the time to be doin’ this, so we’re gonna run this quickly.” He sighed with a hand massaging his stubble. “I’ll have Ed apologize.”

Eddie made his annoyance evident with a loud groan and scoff, as he waved his uncle off.

“But,” Wayne interjected, knowing his nephew would spew out more words that would worsen his consequence, “you said it yourself, sir, that Ed’s been “disrupting” your school for a couple years now, so I don’t think another repeated year would do anyone any good. Right?”

“I- I… well, I, uh, I suppose so…” Higgins mumbled.

“Perfect.” Wayne perched out of his chair with a groan from his aching back. “I think a… sincere, heartfelt apology will teach my boy a valuable lesson here.” He patted Eddie on the shoulder before yanking on his denim vest to pull him from his seat. “So, no detention, no suspension, that way Ed will get to graduate, he’ll be out of your hair, and all’s good in life.”

“I, well, I think we’re being a little too lenient-”

Wayne shoved his working hand in front of Higgins. “I appreciate your understanding, and I’m glad we were able to come to a consensus.” Dumbfoundedly, Higgins shook the man’s hand trying to process everything. “Now, I’ll get in touch with the other boy’s parents, hopefully talk them out of charges, and Ed and I will have a long talk as to why we shouldn’t hit people. Right, Ed?”

“U-um, uh, yeah- yes, sir, I’m so sorry.” Eddie nodded, faux guilt casting his face, as he pressed his lips in and threw his round eyes of disappointment to the ground.

“Well, then” Wayne sighed, “I better get going, sleep’s not gonna catch itself.”

“Mr. Munson, uh, sir-”

“Again, thank you for understanding.” Wayne shoved Eddie past the office door, before sending a polite wave to Higgins, left speechless and open-mouthed, yet no protest could be formulated, as the Munson men were out quick with a slam to the door.

Upon reaching the empty halls of the school, Wayne wondered how ethical it would be to lean against the cold, metal lockers and light a cigarette, because he had no willpower to wait until he was outside. Wayne Munson loved Eddie, he truly did. It may not have been affectionately shown for the majority of his guardianship, but it was there; through every cracked joke, every greasy late-night dinner shared, and every moment when he would miss work, because Eddie always waited last minute to finish the algebra homework that he knew he struggled with, and Wayne was there to help.

But parenthood, itself, was a troubling journey, and when abruptly placed onto a man who had no desire to ever have kids of his own, it became devastatingly unfathomable. It became worse when the kid in question knew nothing but abuse, no hugs no kisses, simply fists and swears to condition his mind with the wrongful notions as to how to express his emotions. It was grueling.

Wayne cleared his throat. “Ed.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie was quick to explain, “but I swear, it really wasn’t my fault.” His eyes pleaded to avoid the wave of disappointment he knew he brought to everyone in Hawkins.

“Boy, if this Carver kid and that girl, Y/N, are giving you trouble-”

“No, no, she’s not!” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, and huffed. “I-I mean, he is, yeah, but it’s nothing I’m not used to, so it doesn’t matter. But her, she, uh, she didn’t- I, fuck, look this is all stupid! He’s stupid, she’s stupid- I, no, she’s not stupid-”

“Eddie.” Wayne was seeing the younger boy Eddie had once been. Struggling with emotions, struggling with words, unable to process and formulate because he was scared.

“She fucking hates me, alright!” Eddie heaved. “All of this is stupid, and it doesn’t matter, because she fucking hates me! And I can’t even blame her, because I’m an awful fucking person!”

“You’re not awful-”

“I am!’ Eddie sighed to catch his breath. “C’mon, Wayne, you know I am. I nearly fucking failed for the third time in a row, because I have no self-control and apparently no fucking emotional intelligence, and now I may end up getting arrested in the middle of the fucking school day. And she fucking hates me, Wayne, she hates me!”

The quietness of the hall became deafening after Eddie’s tangent. He knew his uncle didn’t understand half of what he just uttered, but it sure as hell felt good getting it off his chest. And by now, a cigarette was looking real good to the older gentleman.

“I- shit, I’m sorry, just forget all of that.” Eddie groaned, a tense hand running through his tangled hair.

“No, no,” Wayne shook his head, “say what you need to say. It’ll do you some good.”

Eddie suspired. “Look, Jason was saying some really gross shit about Y/N that wasn’t true, and the only reason why they said all that shit was because she added me- uh, Hellfire to the yearbook.” Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I know, don’t give me that look, like I said, this is all fucking stupid. Anyways, I felt bad, he was literally causing a scene in the middle of lunch, and well, I punched him-”

“Well, see, you’re not an awful person.” Wayne pointed.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Eddie, now highlighted with genuine guilt, casted down to the floor. “When she first took our picture, I kinda yelled at her, because I thought she was just being some two-faced cheerleader, which she wasn’t, but, uh, after the whole cafeteria scene, well, she told me to just leave her alone, and um, I got defensive and called her… a sl- look, I just really fucked up, alright.”

Wayne puffed out a big breath of air. “Okay.” He really didn’t remember high school being this cursory, granted it was over thirty years ago for him. “Uh, well, did you at least apologize to her?” He truly didn’t know how else to approach this problem.

“Well, no, she got suspended yesterday because of the whole yearbook thing. Highly doubt I’ll get a chance.”

“Well, make a chance.” Wayne waved off simply.

“What?”

“You care that much about what she thinks of you, make the chance happen. Don’t just sit around, do something. And if you really don’t care, then just let it go and focus on graduating and not getting in trouble.” Wayne pulled out his pack of Camels. “Either way, I need sleep and you need to get to class.”

“It’s lunch time.”

“Then eat.” Wayne sighed, as he began walking away. “Just stay out of trouble, because there’s only so many free car repairs I’m willing to offer in order to keep your ass out of jail, boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

“I can’t believe this! I totally don’t look like this!” Dustin shrieked. “This is a terrible angle! And I specifically told the guy to get my good side!”

Mike laughed with a mouth full of greasy pizza. “You look like the orcs from our campaign.”

“Who looks like the orcs from our campaign?” Eddie announced his arrival, as he took a seat at the head of the table.

“Dustin!” Gareth guffawed.

“But, hey, if you really wanna feel better, take a look at Stanley Godwin who literally sneezed in the middle of his picture.” Jeff stole the yearbook from Dustin’s grabby hands. “Poor kid and his sinuses.”

But before Jeff could thumb through to find the sneezing sophomore, Eddie had forcefully yanked the brand new book from his friend. “Where the hell did you get this?!”

“I bought it.” Dustin answered. “The Yearbook Committee is already selling them. But, if you want my advice, don’t bother asking Nancy for a family discount.”

“You’re not family.” Mike sneered with a playful shove.

And in true Dustin Henderson fashion, the boy audibly gasped. “Have the last ten years meant nothing to you?”

“Is our picture still in here?” Eddie interrupted.

“Yup!” Gareth smirked. “Front and center.”

Eddie flipped through the extracurriculars, filtering through the numerous clubs before his eyes bestowed upon their photo. There they were. All of them. Their faces and names representing the Hellfire title.

“Hey, how’d the meeting with Higgins go?” Jeff snapped Eddie’s attention. “Your uncle dish one out to ya?”

“Uh, no, actually.” Eddie signed. “Got let off the hook.”

“Wait, Higgins isn’t suspending you?” Mike questioned, and Eddie merely shook his head in confirmation.

“Wow, you’d think punching his precious star athlete would get you expelled.” Dustin laughed. “I mean, even Y/N got suspended for something less. Wish she was here, so I could thank her for the photo.”

Your name had sparked something within Eddie. He quickly turned the pages to reach the senior class of 1986, and flipped until he found your face. Your fucking beautiful face. So pretty and proper, dressed in your best clothing, pearls shining around your neck, eyes glinting with perfection. You were perfect. Perfect. Down to the last minute detail. Your teeth, your lips, your skin.

Make a chance.

Eddie tore the page with much fervor in mind.

“Hey, what the hell?!” Dustin whined. “That cost me forty-five bucks!”

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie muttered, as he stood from his chair, stuffing the torn page into the leather pocket of his worn jacket.

“Where are you going?” Jeff catechized. “We’re in the middle of lunch.”

“To find Chrissy Cunningham.”

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot harder to find than Eddie had expected. She had been in the same lunch period with him for the entirety of the semester, but the one instance he actually needed to speak to her, she wasn’t sitting with the gaggle of cheerleaders and jocks that claimed the best seats in the lunchroom. The girls’ bathroom had been his best option, now he obviously didn’t enter, but after he begrudgingly called out her name through the doorway, he felt like a creep and left rather quickly. The gym was his backup, but after peering through the small windows of the double doors, all he saw was Coach Monaghan loudly instructing scrawny freshmen through enervating suicide drills for the sake of physical education. And the health room was no luck, as the guidance counselor was enforcing teaching the importance of abstinence to a group of girls—only girls—for the sake of sexual education. More like purity culture. Eddie was running out of luck. His watch indicated the mere five minutes he had left before he’d be obligated to endure Mrs. O’Donell. But, by the grace of whatever god may or may not be out there, Eddie caught sight of the strawberry blonde sitting alone upon the writhing wood of an old picnic table just outside of the cafeteria. He walked all around, just for her to be a couple yards from where he originally was. Sometimes Eddie could only scoff at himself.

Appearing to be caught up in her own world, Eddie’s heavy footsteps went unnoticed, until he materialized into her peripheral, a startled shriek making him surrender with hands up in the air.

“Woah, hey, sorry.” He raucously chuckled, looking around to make sure no one could fabricate some false story of harassment against a cheerleader. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

But his words brought no ease to her- clearly, it was just yesterday she was cleaning up her boyfriend’s lip, because of Eddie. “I, uh, I- well, if it’s alright with you, I, um, liked to talk- well, ask you for something.” He softly assured, as she eyed him timidly.

“Um, a-about what?” Her voice could barely be picked up by the breeze of the afternoon.

Eddie took it as an invitation to sit down across from her with a tight-lipped smile. It was awkward. He took notice of her uneaten lunch, merely picked apart but not savored—well, as savored as school lunch could be. “So, uh, what brings you out here?” Perhaps an attempt at conversation with someone he never even spoke to was too bad of an idea, but he simply chose the politeness path, as he ask was pretty hefty. “Finally got tired of Jessica’s big mouth?” He laughed.

Chrissy didn’t. Jessica had made a comment, one that sounded too much like her mother’s own words.

So when Chrissy sadly shrugged, he dropped the small talk and diverted the conversation.

“Okay, look, I’m just gonna be up front.” Eddie sighed. “I need you to give me Y/N’s phone number and address.”

Her thinly groomed eyebrows creased her forehead in confusion. “Um, what?”

“Look, it’s a simple ask, alright, I just need her phone number and address.”

“No, I hear you, Eddie, I just- well, I just don’t know if she would want me to-”

“No, and I understand that, I just really need to talk to her.” Eddie pleaded. “And obviously I can’t do that at school.” Chrissy stayed quiet with contemplation. “C’mon, you guys are friends- or were friends, right? I really just want to make it up to her after all the bullshit she’s been through. Us being partially at fault because of it, y’know.”

Chrissy’s guilty round eyes met his. “I just don’t want her to hate me more.” she whispered.

Eddie’s mouth fell slightly agape, not knowing how to comfort. See, lying and saying all was good and merry between you and Chrissy in order to get what he wanted would have been his first solution—the asshole way of thinking. But being that Eddie being an asshole was the start of all your misery in the first place, he fought the urge to choose the easy way out and rubbed his face with agony.

“Yeah, no, I, uh, get it.” He huffed. “And if it’s any consolation, she fucking hates me, too. Probably more than she hates you.” He smiled. And luckily, a sadden smile curled her lips, which was a start. ��And I mean, rightfully so, we were jackasses to her.” He laughed.

“I should have stuck up for her.” Chrissy sighed. “She always has for me. I mean, she’s been my best friend for four years. But Jason, he just gets so far into this idea of what people will say and think, and he doesn’t want me or him hurting from others' judgment.”

“So you judged her instead?” He couldn’t really be one to speak on the morals of virtue, as he judged, too.

“I know, it’s so stupid.” She dropped her head into her palms with shame. “And I’m not trying to excuse it, I just want her to know I’m so sorry, but I haven’t had the courage to tell her.” She groaned. “Plus, her dad is really strict and really hard on her to be so successful, that I doubt he’ll want me over after she got suspended.”

Chrissy drowned with dejection. Four years of the purest bond between young girls had been cemented into a cascade of hateful rumors and a lack of clear discernment that severed their loving connection that persevered them through the pinnacle of teenage years. As naive fourteen-year-olds, you both had stolen the locked up booze from your father’s office, and cheered one another on as you took a sip, to ensure you both appeared to know what you were doing when you arrived to Bradly Leminski’s party. Turns out, you both had accidentally drank too much in the comfort of your bedroom and missed out. You’d even watched giddily, as Jason Carver asked Chrissy out, after you ran him through the basis of what she loves, because he was determined to get her on a date. But through the woes of boys and high school parties, you’d both been there for one another through the deepest of tribulations, like when Chrissy called you bawling, because her mother’s words manipulated the way she saw herself in the beautiful dress she’d been so excited to wear for the winter formal. Or when she held you tightly after saving you from the harsh grasp of a senior, Jimmy Saunters, who forcefully shoved multiple shots of tequila down your throat, and attempted to drag you into his friend’s bedroom when you were merely a baby freshman.

Her comfort had saved you, just as yours did to her.

“Well, I mean, you can’t just not try.” Eddie reasoned. “Look, I fucking hate that she hates me, and I want to at least try to apologize to her, too, which is why I at least need her number and address, please. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you, too, whenever you get the chance.”

The school bell that Eddie had been all too familiar with screeched for the coming of class, and he jumped in hurry. “C’mon, Chrissy, please, you gotta help me out here.” The desperation became palpable. Chrissy turned and watched numerous students flood into the halls through the glass doors of the building. Caving in quickly, she rummaged through her backpack for a pink pen she’d nearly worn through after the excessive notes from her third period. But she simply grabbed Eddie’s jacket sleeve, and utilized the back of his veiny hand as a canvas for her information.

He’d ache his neck with a contorted twist of his head to watch the fading ink print what he wanted. A seven digit number lined the back of his hands, a small smile consuming his face, but then Chrissy started capping her pen away. “W-wait, uh, her address, too.”

“Um…”

“Please, I swear, if she asks, I won’t say it was you.” Eddie rushed.

Chrissy sighed, before quickly scribbling the number and street name of your home. Eddie cursed under his breath. “Christ, Pinecrest Acres? I got hired to mow some dude’s lawn in that neighborhood one summer, and some prick called the cops on me for trespassing.” He scoffed, and poor Chrissy didn’t know how to respond at the irrelevance of his news besides with an awkward chuckle. “But, anyways, thank you. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” Eddie saluted, as he headed towards the door.

But then he abruptly turned. “Wait! Uh, tell your boyfriend I’m sorry for the, uh, whole, y’know…” And Eddie laughed, as he mimicked the shocking punch that loosened Jason Carver’s front teeth.

The entire reason why he hadn’t showed up to school that day.

“Um, don’t you want to tell him yourself?” Chrissy sweetly proffered. “I’m sure it’ll mean more.”

Eddie could roll his eyes. It was Jason Carver. Nothing Eddie did could mean shit to him.

He winced with a hiss. “Yeah, see, I totally would,” no, he wouldn’t, “but since he’s not here, and you’re the next best thing, I trust that you’ll pass on the message for me.” He smiled so sickly, Chrissy couldn’t see the drenching lies of his words.

“Oh, okay.” She agreed.

“Oh!” Eddie perked. “If Higgin’s asks, I totally did apologize to Carver, okay?” Well, maybe there was still a little asshole left in Eddie, but at least he wasn’t actively hurting anyone. Yet.

“Uh, o-okay.” She hesitantly smiled.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” He lifted his balled fist to bump with hers. It was telling of the fact that Eddie Munson had little interactions with girls his own age- or any girls for that matter. But she hesitantly bumped him back, nonetheless. “Y’know, you’re a really cool person, you should get better friends.” He affirmed, before waving a goodbye.

“Th-thanks.” She meekly watched him enter the school building.

While uncomfortable at first, the overall start of the budding friendship between Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson was one to look forward to. While they evidently had nothing in common, it was quite comical actually, they could find reassurance in one another that improvements needed to be made within themselves in order to speak to the one person they both genuinely cared for. You. They at least had that in common. And luckily for Eddie, in six hours, Chrissy Cunningham would confide to Jason Carver to drop any potential charges, and he would listen, because he loved her.

“Fuck.” Eddie mumbled under his breath. He shook the nerves from his hands, and rolled his neck in preparation. “C’mon, you can do this.”

“So, uh,” Wayne snapped Eddie’s attention. His uncle was staring at him circumspectly, as he shrugged on his jacket, “you preparin’ for a marathon, or somethin’?”

“What?” Eddie blinked through his messy bangs. “No, I’m about to make a phone call.”

“Right.” Wayne cleared his throat, studying the newfound nervousness of his nephew’s demeanor, which he hadn’t seen in- well, ever. “Ima head out to work, see ya tomorrow morning.” It was clear Eddie was waiting for his uncle to leave, as Wayne caught sight of how quickly Eddie grabbed the handle of the phone as Wayne, himself, grabbed the doorknob. “Is this about that Y/N girl?”

Eddie’s shoulder’s dropped. “Shouldn’t you be heading off to work by now?”

“Alright, alright,” Wayne mumbled, “just askin’. Be sure to eat dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it, Ed. Eat.”

Eddie, in fact, did not eat.

In order to not succumb to the nauseating feeling that was churning in the pit of his tummy, he came to the concurrence that a cold beer would extenuate the ferment that made his heart skip a beat every ten seconds. Now, in typical sense, Eddie had consumed enough beer in his lifetime, that a single one shouldn’t have affected him to the extent at which this one did. But see, Eddie didn’t listen to the wise words of Wayne Munson, and his gurgling, empty stomach rocked him to the edge of tipsiness far quicker than he was used to.

And before he knew it, his cold fingertips were jamming the buttons to the sequence of Chrissy’s faded pink handwriting, and soon it began ringing- shit, the phone was ringing! Eddie began panicking in place, wavering between hanging up and bringing the phone back to his ear. He hadn’t even planned out what he would say to you. Well, he technically did, it was all that he could think about for the entire day, but each idea seemed unworthy to the standards you deserved, so he’d move on to the next thought, but then suddenly every thought was determined unfit by Eddie. Should he apologize? Fuck, of course, he should apologize, but for what first? Calling you a miserable bitch? An attention-seeking slut? Making a scene in the cafeteria? Yelling in your face? Making you cry? Jesus Christ, thinking it out loud, why on Earth would you ever accept his apology?! He should just hang up before it’s too late-

“Hello?”

Eddie Munson’s knees buckled.

He carelessly gripped the edge of his wooden table, and slowly steadied himself into the chair below. He should speak, but no words were coming out. His knuckle flew into his mouth, where his teeth brandished the tender skin with harsh indents. It was painful, but he couldn’t stop.

You spoke so featherly soft, too delicate for his usual orotund tone. The one he’d use to berate you. “Um, hello?”

“H-Hi…” He pierced out, immediately cringing at the sudden loudness he uncontrollably spoke in. “It’s, uh- well, it’s me, um… Eddie.”

It was dead quiet for what felt like an eternity.

No word, no squeak, no air. You were obviously holding your breath, and the mere thought was tearing at Eddie’s heart. “Please.” It came out so weak. “Please, Eddie, I don’t wanna start anything.”

His stomach dropped, and his hands shook with how scared you sounded. You were scared of him. In the couple of instances he interacted with you, he scared you. Because to you, he brought harm. It may not have been physical, but it was detrimental, nonetheless. And you were scared. He was becoming the sole person he did not want to become, because he knew what it was like to be scared.

“No, no, sweetheart,” he let out a shaky sigh, “I’m not gonna do anything. I promise.” He wanted to profusely vomit. It was the same words his dad had uttered to his bruised mom in order to sweet talk her out of leaving.

“I told you to leave me alone, Eddie.” You choked quietly. It was dinner. Your father was downstairs enjoying his takeout. Not yours. He stopped caring to ask the minute you refused to leave your bedroom. “I don’t even care how you got my number, but I need you to not call-”

“No, I know, sweetheart, but I really just need to talk to you.” His knuckles were casting white upon the tight grip he clutched the phone, as his lips brushed the bottom speaker in whispers. His other hand began insistently picking at the old wood of the kitchen table. Wayne would have a word with him about that. “I- what I did, I really need to tell that I’m sorry, because I truly am sor-”

“Eddie,” You gently interrupted, no energy to scream at him like your mind was begging you to do, “I don’t want your apology.” You sniffled. “If it really meant that much to you, you would have never done it to begin with, because I- I would have never done this to you. I would have never done this to you.”

His eyes clenched shut to mitigate the profound stinging of his eyes from the welling of tears his heart was urging to spill for you. He knew the probability of you accepting his apology was low, but his mother always seemed to accept his father’s after he sweet talked his way out of a domestic abuse charge. This is what was supposed to happen, right? You should be loving his words and running to forgive him, right? It was what he saw. It was what he experienced. It was what he was conditioned to believe. But you weren’t his mother. And he’d desperately do anything to not be his father. Yet everyday, the image in the mirror was sneering back that sickening smile that destroyed Eddie’s childhood. So you weren’t going to run in his arms. You were going to stand your ground, just like he wished his mother had done to his father.

“Please, sweetheart.” A gritted through his tense jaw, as a tear stained his reddening cheek. “Please.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, Eddie.” There was no admonish to your words, in fact, you were so demure, holding back tears of your own, because he knew the ugly truth that you were well aware of the fact that if you screamed, he’d scream. And you’d, once again, be scared. “Just let me be, please. I don’t want you near me.”

The buzzing of the cutting line shot his bullet in his heart.

Your voice was gone, and yet, the phone stayed glued to his ear in hopes that he was just imagining it all. You didn’t hang up. You were still on the line. You would take back your words. You would accept his apology. But your euphonious voice never appeared again, and Eddie aggressively slammed the phone back on the hook with a grunt of frustration. The heel of his palms stabbed into his weeping eyes, as his shoulders assertively shook with every choke of his tightening breath. Rejection, heartache, vexation, and patheticism rampaged his mind from any calamity, and before he knew it, the characteristics he so badly hated about himself were being proffered up to the surface of his being.

In truth, this was the scary aspect of Eddie Munson that resembled the harm he was verbally and physically ingrained with as a tragic child who knew of no hope. All rationale was gone, and wrongful devotion rooted in his deepest fear of being neglected with disregard had overtook his judgment. Standing with all fury, his finger’s strained through the excessive flexing of joints before his balled fist broke through the drywall of his trailer. His knuckles split with blood, but it felt deserving to him. Who was Eddie Munson without the infliction of pain? Absolutely nobody, he affirmed in his mind. He was meant to suffer.

Chest heaving, beads of sweat pebbled his forehead, and the fridge door broke open. His truculent, battered hand grappled onto the torn yokes of the remaining three beers, hauling them, as his other hand reached for the keys to his van.

Eddie Munson was about to cause more harm.

“Please, jus hol’ on f’me…” His drenched lips slurred with beer, as his hand crushed the empty can he haphazardly threw into the passenger seat, where his growing collection stacked.

In the grand scheme of things, Eddie knew he was attesting to the predisposition of his role in this town, but he couldn’t help it. A lowlife, criminal, an irascible danger to society. Would you actually accept him? No, you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t blame you. But he couldn’t stand the pre-conceived notion he’d confirmed about himself to you, and he was in desperation to speak to you. Unfortunately, Eddie had panicked, and this was happening in the ugliest, most horrifying and sinister state he’d ever been in. And you would see it all.

As lucky as one can be under the influence while driving, the cracked roads had fortunately been desolate, as nuclear families gathered around their pristine tables to lavish in the draining emotional labor of home cooked meals by their underappreciated wives. He rejected all red lights and street signs, stampeding through neighborhoods, drifting past turns, and steadily accelerating until he’d approached the spotlighted sign of Pinecrest Acres. The affluence—actually the beer and sharp curves—made his stomach turn in disgust. The aristocrats of Hawkins housed together, where they frolicked with no worries in the prolific assortment of two-stories, pool houses, parterres, and vintage cars, all while the struggling families of Forest Hills had to huddle with worn blankets to survive the blistering winters of Indiana. Ronald Reagan’s conservatism sure had an ascendancy on this place. He came to an abrupt stop after his headlights reflected the engraved 630 of your mailbox. “6… 3… 0 Pinecrest fucking Acres.” He mumbled.

His tire ran over the curb of your street before he pulled the keys from the ignition. For a second, he stopped. His breathing was becoming suffocating, as his chest fervently raised with each depth of an inhale. His hand found the door handle faster than his mind could process, and soon he was stumbling on inebriated legs to the front lawn of your house. Honestly, if your dad had found him, he would have shot him, but the man had driven himself into bed after downing the entirety of his rum.

Eddie’s eyes scaled the height of the house. “Fuck me.” Maybe he shouldn’t have chugged four beers. He cleared his throat. His joints echoed in a rhythmic sequence of pops, as he pressed and twisted his fingers to loosen up. A guttural groan escaped as his neck was next, snapping it left to right to ease out any crooks. His breaths stammered in unprecedented waverness, as his ears ached through the thudding sounds of his beating heart that seemed to be amplified in his mind. Jaw ticking. Hands shaking. Mouth dried. Body sweating. What the hell were you going to do when he’d shown up without your consent? In fact, you explicitly said to leave you alone. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie wanted to cry. Should he knock? No, your dad would call the cops. Would you call the cops? He sure as hell would if a drunk man harassed his yard.

But then, his stomach sank to his ass.

The one room that had been illuminated by the glowing overhead light had accentuated your silhouette. You. It was fucking you. In your room. Where you stayed, where you studied, where you slept, where you’d been crying and chose stoicism to numb the pain of everything around. But everything had happened quickly, and soon, you were gone with a sharp close of your curtains.

Eddie’s legs began working without thought, and he’d swiftly aligned himself with the window to your room, tramping the trimmed garden of crumpled rose bushes beneath his dirty sneakers. Your house had been complemented by the standing trellis that had been wrapped by vines of delicate nature. If there was any sign of either moving forward or leaving, the intricate trimming of your house perfectly starting where your trellis ended meaning Eddie had leeway to make it to your window, meaning Eddie’s intoxicated mind saw it was a passage to see you. “Jus do it f’her, do it f’her…” Regrettably, the rational part of his brain had fallen under the influence, which was screaming at him to just leave you alone.

As stealthy as a drunk man could, Eddie prayed the trellis could hold his weight, as he began scaling the flimsy wood against your wall. All he could think about was you. Every step was for you. Every splinter was for you. Every stumble was for you. Yet his clouded judgment could not process the fact that you didn’t want any of this. But the bottom of his shoe was already scuffing the white trimming of your house, and he was hoisting himself to stand upon the hipped edge roof. Crouched and begging his intoxication didn’t drop him from the second story, he quietly approached the dormer of your window.

His fingertips gently caressed the glass with great scrutiny. It was now just dawning on him as to what he’s just done. The danger he’s put himself and others in. The disrespect he’s inflicted upon you. The hurt. The knock was soft, barely comprehensible. You had ignored it, there was always noise. You tightly cuddled a bundle of your duvet, sinking yourself into the wallow of your bed in hopes of willing yourself to a serious need of sleep. But the noise continued. More apparent. More concerning.

You jolted at the clearest indication of a set of knocks cascading against your window.

Your heart began racing beyond compare, as the noise followed just outside. It was night, no one should be coming to your house, let alone your window at 9:27 p.m. And the one man you should have had full reliance on was currently passed out in his locked bedroom, where you knew awakening him would lead to a revile of the burden you’d become in his life. He said it when you were nine, and he’d freely say it again if you gave him a headache from his usual hangover.

But suddenly, the trembling of your body succumbed when you heard it.

“H-hello…”

Blindsided by the simple greeting, you stumbled out of bed with stupefaction that he would actually show up. Eddie. You ran to your window, swinging the curtains open to reveal him. Round, reddened eyes oozing with plead, as his hand pressed against your window. His heart sank at the look of disgust that his face garnered from you. He hated it. He hates your disheveled hair, your bagging pajamas, your wobbling lip. He hates you. He hates how perfect you were. Why the fuck were you so fucking perfect?

You made out the shaky “please” that left his mouth.

Opening the window swiftly, the cold breeze of the night engulfed you, as he helped you lift. “What are you doing here?!” You were quick to spit with spite.

“I-I,” upon seeing you, his eyes had an instant reaction to start welling for the shit he was putting you through, because he knew what he was wreaking was pure havoc in the normalcy of your life, “I just really needed to t-talk to you.” He managed to choke out.

His hot breath hit you like a truck, proffering memories of what a humid house party smelt like. “Are you drunk right now?!” He could only shamefully nod with closed eyes. “And you drove here?!” Another disgrace to his character. “Are you insane?!”

“M’so sorry… M’so fucking sorry, please, I-I jus- I jus-”

“You could have hurt somebody, Eddie!” Though whispered, it carried all the beratement of your anger. “You could have killed yourself!”

“I know!” He wailed with guilt. “I jus- I feel like m’losing my mind, because I need to fucking fix what I did. What I did to you! M’so sorry.” Your hands caught your head in anguish. You hated him, every being in your body wanted to shout at him, and yet, your heart was tormenting at the state he was in. And you fucking hated that you couldn’t hate him how you wanted- how you deserved. “M’sorry, I-I can leave and I swear I won-”

“You’re not fucking leaving like this, Eddie, you’re gonna get hurt.” You began tearing in frustration.

“Nonono, p-please don’t cry-”

He tried to reach out to you, but you slapped his comforting hands away, forcing him to lose his balance, before you had to steady him yourself. “You’re just saying that because you know you’re the cause.” You mumbled far too low for his drunk brain to process, while you held a tight grip around his wrist.

At an attempt to pull him in, his heavy, limp body contorted trying to bypass your window alcove, brandishing it with the streaks of his dirty shoes, and it took all your strength to stumble him onto your bed with a huff. Having him sit in place, you kneeled in front of him to get a good look at his face through the peering moonlight. He looked beyond exhausted, a testament to the agony of contrition he’s been eaten by for what he’s done to you. His eyes wholly swollen with irritation and tears that stained his flushed cheeks, as everything around him felt like it was burning hot. You couldn’t yell at him. At this state, ambushing him with an onslaught of curses and shouts would only project him into a disposition of vindication in order to protect himself. And that side of Eddie Munson was scary.

“Eddie,” you sighed, as his hanging head managed to meet your round eyes and quivering lips. “You cannot do this again. Do you hear me? You’re scaring me.” He vehemently shook his head, as his hands were quick to cover his face with shame to shield from the embarrassment he was consumed by. You pulled his arms away. “No, Eddie, I need you to say it; that you won’t do this to me again.”

“I-I… I won’t do this to you a-again- m’sorry. I won’t touch you, I promise, M’not my dad.” He sobbed.

You sighed in defeat. “What- why would you even do this in the first place? What are you talking about?” You pleaded to understand, as tears constricted your eyes.

There’s so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start. “I fucking need to fix what I did to you. I didn’t mean it, any of the shit I said to you. Being around is just so nice that I get afraid. I don’t want to lose you… a-as a friend, because- because nice things don’t happen to me, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost-” His breath had caught up to him, making him retch on nothing but tears and snot.

“Breathe, okay, Eddie, just breathe.” You quietly instructed, as he endeavored to follow suit. Your hands softly took hold of his, trying to ameliorate the violent shakes of his stiffening body, fingers delicately locking to find solace within his. And he held back so tightly.

“Nobody- nobody’s ever cared like you have.” He whimpered.

“So why treat me like this?” You mewled, sinking your teeth to discontinue the incoming sobs that stung your throat.

“Because I don’t fucking deserve you-” You were quick to immediately shush him, as your father was merely a couple doors down. “Sorry, but I can’t fucking like you, Y/N.” He murmured through a quivering lip. His mind was spewing his feelings, the one he so badly wanted to ignore, but alas, his intoxicated state was regrettably telling all. “I can’t, it hurts too much. Knowing- knowing you don’t belong with me, I-I can’t fucking hold you, hug you, I c-can’t.”

“Eddie, you could have just talked to me.” You softly cried.

“No.” He looked so terrified. “I can’t fucking hear you ignore me. I-I know you don’t like me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Fucking look at me, Y/N.” He bawled. “Look at what I’m doing to you. You don’t fucking deserve this. M’not a good person. I hurt you. I fucking hurt you.”

“I just wished you would have given me a chance, and talked to me, Eddie.” You squeezed his hands.

“No, I don’t want to burden you.” He cried with heavy breaths. “There’s things I wanna say to you- do with you, but I should just be letting you live free from me. No one cares about what I have to say, and you know it.” He begged for you to get it. “All that bullshit about communication doesn’t mean anything when it comes to me. No one wants to hear me. No one wants me.”

Your heart shattered at the revelation because it was beyond the definitions of truth. From childhood, Eddie Munson knew he was nothing if not a punching bag to his father, a therapist to his mother, an obligation to his uncle, and a burden to everyone. It became unwarrantedly embedded into a six-year-old boy and vandalized into his twenty-year-old self. He recognized it. Everyone affirmed it.

You raked your hands from his hold, choosing to sit next to him on your bed, where your arms inundated him into a hug he had not received in years. The last close touch given to Eddie Munson left him weeping with a broken nose. He immediately fell into your embrace, shoving his head in the comfort of your neck, where his cries only amplified with the desperation of being touched lovingly. Your own tears had dampened his unruly head of hair, as you caved into him. His heavy arms constricted you tightly.

At this moment, you were not scared of Eddie Munson. You’d seen his reasoning and you understood. Not excused, but understood. A lot of people had simply scared him first.

“I hear you, Eddie. I want to keep hearing you.”

“Eddie?” You whispered into his curls.

It’d been an hour of nonstop wails of distress, years of pent up emotions, and the realization that his being could be accepted. Even if it was just for tonight. His eyes had endured a rollercoaster of feelings, and they soon gave up on holding him awake. You didn’t move. He didn’t move. A tight hug that was necessary for both of you after heavy stoicism from neglect in your own unique ways.

You caressed his head. “Eddie?”

He was out. You let out a shaky breath of relief. Carefully maneuvering his body, you gently laid his head onto your pillow, prying his strong arms from your waist where they refused to let go, bunching the fabric of your sweater. But you managed to escape his needy hold. Huffing lightly, you carried his legs onto your bed, deciding to let his shoes dirty your clean blankets. His arms had subconsciously gotten comfortable, splaying out against your mattress, where he fell into deep relaxation in comparison to the lumpy bed he’d succumb to back home. You took sight of the fading ink across his hand, your information decorating his alabaster skin with the all too familiar pink of Chrissy Cunningham’s pen. You wondered how the hell that conversation had gone down. You tenderly eased his arms from the malaise of his jacket, bringing the denim and leather infused with cheap cologne and cigarettes up to your nose. It was Eddie. Soothing the beloved jacket against the back of your desk chair, a small paper had dropped from the nearly torn pocket. Reaching out, you picked up the torn page from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook.

Though, no other student could be seen. It was ripped haphazardly to only focus on your picture.

You.

Eddie Munson had now seen you, as you had now seen him.

Softly placing the photo back, you rummaged through your closet to retrieve another set of duvets and blankets, where you preciously placed them onto the floor of your bedroom. Your bed had now been stolen, but you weren’t complaining—that much, at least. You’d quietly taken another pillow from your bed, placing it onto your newfound cushion of the floor. There was a reason why you shoved this particular blanket into the closet, it made your skin itch uncomfortably, but you’d withstand the terrible material of the woven covers if it meant that Eddie could get the peace he needed.

Because if Eddie was okay, you’d be okay.

Because similarly to Eddie, who were you if not catering to the needs of others in order to keep sanity in your life. You just wanted stability. True stability.

Cuddling into your blankets, you heard the snores of the past out man next to you. You sighed. In the mere three days of knowing Eddie Munson, you accepted the emotional labor that came with his damaged self. But that was okay. Because Eddie Munson seemed ready to do the same for you. Accept you.

But how willing were you to tolerate the impulsivity of Eddie Munson who knew nothing of stability?

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | Again, there was an error in my tag list, which led me to removing it. Luckily, it’s been a couple days, so I believe most who wished to be tagged already read this chapter. My tag list will continue, I just simply had to remove it for this chapter in particular. I’m terribly sorry for any confusion.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #mean!eddie munson #the yearbook: club pictures

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2hightocare · 6 months

Text

LOVE WAGER! 02

Synopsis: The concept of love resurfaces as you both agree to center your psychology project on the premise that love is a choice. You propose an intriguing idea to Jungkook: he must exert every effort to make you fall in love with him within a month, to back up his belief.

Pairings: jungkook x fem!reader

Genre: college au. strangers to friends to lovers. angst/romantic comedy.

Warnings: mentions of divorce parents, neglectful parents, mentions of depression, banter, cussing, ex girlfriends, flashbacks, jungkook low key being super mean and discarding people’s feelings, jungkook hard-key depressed, implications of sex.

a/n: hai… this is so long overdue— exams month is coming and I had the biggest writers block fr but here’s my beloved babies. Song of the chapter— “love is embarrassing” by Olivia Rodrigo.

prev chapter! series masterlist!

Love.

Love is an intricate subject in its own right. Scientists elucidate it through the interplay of three cerebral chemicals: noradrenaline, dopamine, and phenylethylamine.

That's how Jungkook perceived love. He didn't subscribe to the notion of butterflies in the stomach or the fluttering heartbeat as justifications for love. To him, love was a scientific phenomenon, a complex emotion akin to sadness or jealousy-if he could evade such feelings, he would spare no effort.

But why did his stomach churn as if his organs were performing tiny somersaults whenever he gazed at you a tad too long? You were engrossed in the menu, pondering whether to get a burger or a slice of pizza.

Seated beautifully in your loose red Formula One shirt, Jungkook couldn't fathom how you managed to make that oversized shirt look so good.

Jungkook's eyes dropped to the ribbon in your hair, wondering why someone who was a full-on adult looked pretty, adorable even-with a red ribbon tied into a beautiful bow contrasting your skin and eyes. Your long eyelashes entranced him. He felt his stomach do something, a turn? Maybe his stomach was upset-he thought to himself.

Jungkook couldn't believe he found himself willingly sharing a table with you at the same dinner two years ago, he almost killed you at. He had moved to Emberhill U two years ago, ever since he moved out from his mom's house. Jungkook's life had gone to hell, which is exactly what his mind would tell him ever since his mom got a boyfriend. To make matters worse, he now had step-siblings.

He hated every bit of it. He wasn't jealous whatsoever.

It was the fact that his mom seemed to forget he even existed in the first place. Jungkook was hurt. He tried not to dwell or cry about it since he was a big boy-that's what he told himself now, pushing twenty-two, but still, part of his already broken heart shattered more.

How could your mom forget about her child? How could she not care about her only flesh and blood? He never told her that ever. Talking about his feelings with his mom was like talking to a brick wall that nothing could pass through. Plus, Jungkook wasn't good at communicating or talking about his feelings anyway. He found it embarrassing to lay yourself out there for someone to be able to discard you at any given moment.

Jungkook's dad wasn't any different as wellbeing too busy with work to even call him to ask his son if he was okay or how school is going. But the calls or text messages never came. Jungkook was used to it. It was his everyday. It was more shocking when he did call, but he wouldn't know what that would feel like since he never called ever since the divorce. Jungkook knew the divorce wasn't his fault whatsoever. His therapist—that his high school counselor made him go to—basically talked his ear off about how anything that happened wasn't his fault, but still, it felt like it was.

Ever since everything went down, his parents seemed to forget they had a child, who still needed them.

One advantage of his situation was the freedom to do as he pleased without his parents' interference. However, the downside was their lack of concern for his activities or just him in general. Jungkook was certain: if his parents didn't love him, who else in the world would? So, he didn't believe in love. When the two people meant to demonstrate unconditional love failed to do so, he doubted anyone else would. He would like to say that it didn't affect him and it's been years since everything, but deep down it still did.

Jungkook experiences a pang of guilt every time he looks at you. Perhaps it's the way he behaved when he first met you, the influence of the romantic comedy in your hands causing him to lash out at you.

Something about your ribbons makes him feel that you’re too innocent and naive for this world—part of him wants to shield you from its harsh realities, while another part wants to disillusion you about the cruelty of the world and the disparity between love in fairy tales and reality.

"Are you done daydreaming?" You say, interrupting his thoughts. Jungkook shakes his head, attempting to banish his thoughts before raising an eyebrow at your curious doe eyes. "I wasn't daydreaming," he states proudly, prompting a scoff from you, a grin tugging at Jungkook's lips.

"It was either daydreaming or checking me out since you were staring at me for a hot minute, but I decided otherwise since you have a girlfriend," you quip nonchalantly before calling the waiter to take your order.

"First of all, I don’t have a girlfriend, and second of all, what if I was checking you out?" Jungkook challenges. He didn’t know why he enjoyed getting on your nerves—any other person he would probably flip off and never give them the time of day, but instead, here he was with you doing the complete opposite.

"What happened to the girl from the dinner?" You question, your eyes finally meeting his brown ones. A glint of something passes over his eyes before disappearing as quickly as you saw it—so you thought maybe you had imagined it.

"Who?" Jungkook says, tilting his head to the side as he leans forward, his elbows propped on the table. "the one you mentioned to me two years ago? The one you discussed intimately," you mimic his voice. Jungkook's smile widens, amused by your jest.

"If you want to know so badly, we broke up—well, she broke up with me," Jungkook clicks his tongue, observing your expressions closely. He notices the creases of your forehead whenever you are thinking or the way you bite your lower lip to contain a smile that’s threatening to come out, each time Jungkook says something dumb.

"Oh, let me guess, she wanted love letters and sweet words whispered into her ear," you mock him, knowing he said that he didn’t need to do any of that to keep a girl. "You’re annoying, Ribbons," Jungkook shakes his head with a low soft chuckle.

You watch him pick up the menu and start scanning the items as you observe him. You notice how his jaw clenches momentarily before relaxing, his tongue poking on the inside of his cheek, making you wonder if you angered him—and if you did, maybe you should do it more often since he looked hot—

Record scratch.

Your mind was playing games with you the more you watched the raven-haired boy. The more you realized he was the epitome of the boy you imagined whenever you were reading a book, the dimples on his cheeks, the scar right above his cheekbone, and the mole underneath his bottom lip had you wanting to ask him for his whole life story.

He also looks like those cute love song playlists that had all your favorite songs in them, but you knew from the way he acts around you, it was definitely a hard no and maybe you were delusional after all. So you try hard to shove those ideas into the back of your brain as far as you could.

"I knew that you couldn’t keep a girlfriend," you shrug, prompting a gasp from him as he jokingly places a hand on his heart, as if you had just dealt him a mortal blow.

"Wow, YN doesn’t think I’m boyfriend material?" Jungkook gasps dramatically, shaking his head.

"You’re literally everything that's not boyfriend material," you throw your head back with a laugh, observing his widened eyes with amusement evident on his face. "Ouch," Jungkook scoffs dramatically.

"What makes you say I’m not boyfriend material?" he says, scanning the room for a waiter but finding none, before redirecting his attention to you.

"You don’t believe in love, that's one way to start," you point out, eliciting a hum of agreement from him. "What's that got to do with being a good boyfriend? I assure you that a good boyfriend isn’t necessarily head over heels in love," Jungkook says, as if imparting a valuable lesson, while your facial expression betrays you.

"The fuck? You literally hate everything related to love. Being a good boyfriend means doing cliche shit you hate doing so much, how could you possibly be boyfriend material?" you assert proudly, prompting an eye-roll from him.

"All that stuff is just superficial shit that everyone collectively agreed on. It’s just embarrassing how people put themselves go through all that just to make someone lik—“

"Love," you interject, earning yourself a glare from across the table.

"Like I was saying, I stand by the fact all those stupid romantic gestures are pointless. Society basically romanticized love and set up unrealistic expectations— everything just leads to heartbreak and disappointment," Jungkook continues, you watch how the hard expression on his face wavers to something more… sad, like he was talking from experience.

"Have you ever experienced love?" you inquire, not sure why since you guys weren’t even friends in the first place—the only reason you found yourself sitting with him willingly was because of psychology class.

"What?" Jungkook is caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Have you ever been in love?" you reiterate, observing his expression harden once more. "No, never, and I don’t plan to," Jungkook shrugs, going back to his usual cocky self in a blink of an eye, prompting yet another eye-roll from you, marking thirty-eighth.

You didn’t get the chance to reply since a waiter came to your table, apologizing for taking so long to get to us before taking our orders.

You and Jungkook decided on sharing a pizza, and you obviously ordered a coke, which got Jungkook joking about how he isn’t trying to make you choke again, which had the waiter shifting uncomfortably beside you both while Jungkook had an eating-shit grin on his face.

“That’s not what he meant!” You chuckled nervously, your face reddening, matching your shirt from how embarrassed you are.

“No, it’s okay, you don't have to explain,” the waiter said before excusing himself.

The moment the waiter was out of your line of vision, you turned your head to the boy who’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh.

“What the fuck was that?” You glared, your eyebrows scrunching. “What, you both just have a dirty mind,” Jungkook shrugged, the grin on his face making you shift in your chair.

Jungkook's aura was unlike anything you’d ever stumbled upon, and you hated it. It made you want to know more about him than you should, the way he carried himself and talked had you questioning why? He wasn’t so different from other boys you had met, besides the fact that he spoke his mind as if no one was around, not caring if he hurt your feelings or offended you. It was refreshing in some way, but it still made you want to pull your hair out.

“Alright… let’s change topics, Mr. Anti-Romantic,” you say, watching his smile widen.

“What?” You stared at him, trying to think what could possibly make him smile that much. You were sure your face would hurt if you possibly smiled that much.

“Nothing, I just find it extremely hot when you call me that, it turns me on,” Jungkook said, leaning forward.

Okay, that’s not exactly what you were imagining him saying. Your eyes widened momentarily, feeling your heartbeat rise. The smile not leaving his face had you feeling hot, as if the room temperature suddenly increased.

“Uh… so, project,” you blinked rapidly.

“Yeah, project,” Jungkook agreed, smile still on his face as he saw your cheeks flush with a reddish color.

“So, any ideas about what our project can be about?” You said, grabbing the hair tie around your wrist and using it to make a ponytail, taking the ribbons out before tying your hair.

Two small strands fell from your face, tempting Jungkook's fingers to reach out and tuck them behind your ear. He wanted to slap himself back to reality since he never in his life thought those thoughts, not even with Haneul, whom he dated for five months, setting a record. He still remembered the reason she gave him for breaking up. It was laughable.

“Jungkook, you don’t even look at me with love, and I know you said when we first met that it was only attraction, but I thought you would change over time the more we hung out,” Haneul whimpered, tears gathering around her eyes as Jungkook just stared at her, not knowing what to say. Because yes, he did tell her it was all attraction, and it’s still only attraction to this day for him.

“You don’t hold my hand or give me kisses, you don’t even give me flowers,” Haneul cried, her voice cracking with each word she said.

“I told you, I don’t do that stuff,” Jungkook said. He felt bad for her since he knew she deserved better, but he didn’t feel bad about not doing those things for her since he told her he wouldn’t and never would do them. And she agreed, so why was she crying about it now when she agreed to it five months ago?

“I know you did, but I thought you just… fuck, you haven’t even introduced me to your family,” a crack is heard from Jungkook's heart, but not for the girl in front of him crying her heart out, but for himself, because yeah, he had no family he could take a girl home to, since he had no home at all. He had a house, but it was as empty as he was.

“Haneul, I told you—“

“Yeah, that you will never do that! I get it, okay? I get it, but fuck, how can you not care? Do you not feel anything when it comes to me?” The girl wept more, which had Jungkook sighing.

“I like you, Haneul,” Jungkook replied. “I love you, Jungkook, can’t you tell…” she whispered, a choked sob leaving her lips as she looked up at the man who’s just standing in front of her like nothing.

“I’m sorry,” that's all Jungkook said… because what else could he say? It was either that or that he didn’t love her, but to not take it personally since he didn’t love anything?

So instead, he said the only thing he could muster without his voice cracking.

“Love,” Jungkook finally says, his statement catching you off guard, widening your eyes in surprise.

“Love? I thought you hated love,” you raise an eyebrow, perplexed by his sudden declaration.

“I do, but love is psychological. We can discuss how we, as humans, have the ability to choose whether we fall in love or not,” Jungkook articulates.

“That’s not how love works, Jungkook,” you retort, to which he responds with a disapproving nod. “It does, though,” Jungkook rebuts.

“It doesn’t. Love is not something we can choose and pick, it just happens,” you try to explain.

“You believe love just happens, but I disagree, respectfully,” Jungkook adds, causing you to tilt your head curiously, intrigued by his perspective. “I’ve held on for too long without being in love since I said I wouldn’t fall in love,” he concludes.

“That’s because you haven’t met anyone you actually want to try with… maybe you just haven’t met your soulmate,” you suggest, annoyance evident on Jungkook’s face the moment you mention the concept of soulmates.

“Soulmates don’t exist, ribbons,” Jungkook snickers.

“I beg to differ,” you cross your arms, adamant in your belief. “I don’t know what fantasy lovey-dovey world you live in, but soulmates are just made up,” Jungkook shrugs casually.

“Maybe you are right about the fact that you get to choose who you fall in love with since I know for a fact I would never fall in love with you,” you spitefully state.

Jungkook nods, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth that catches him off guard. Perhaps it was the fact that someone had just openly admitted they wouldn’t want to love him—reminding him of the kid he once was, desperately begging his parents to love him. But wasn’t this what he was trying to prove in the first place, that love was a choice? Then why did it hurt to hear you say those words out loud?

“Atta girl, finally got it huh,” Jungkook smirks, ignoring the pang of hurt in his chest. “Alright then, if we did do that for our project, let’s say we argued that love is a choice and it doesn’t happen. How do we prove that?” you question.

Silence fills the table as you both brainstorm ideas, trying to back up this argument.

“I got it,” you say, as if a light bulb just appeared on top of your head. Jungkook nods, encouraging you to continue.

“What if we spend a month with you doing absolutely everything to make me fall in love with you? And I mean do all that cliché, romantic shit I love that you hate so much. Since I know for a fact that I choose not to fall in love with you, we can discuss how, even if a person does everything right, you still get to choose who you love,” you explain carefully, ensuring he understands your proposal.

“It’s a good idea for the project; we could use ourselves to illustrate how we pick and choose who we love, like you said,” you try to convince him, giving him the benefit of the doubt after he convinced you of his beliefs. You knew you would never fall for him, even if he did everything you ever read in books and saw in movies.

“We can call it the Love Wager,” you finish, scanning his face as he contemplates the idea.

Jungkook’s mind races, unsure if he likes the idea or absolutely hates it. On one hand, it could earn him a good grade, given the strong rationale behind it, using yourselves as an experiment to support your argument. But on the other hand, the thought of spending a month doing everything he had vocally despised for the past five years gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Alright then, the Love Wager operation starts,” Jungkook agrees instead, while you clap happily. “Oh my god yay, this might give me an A plus,” you celebrate, giggling as Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“It’s a long story; I just hate psychology,” you say, to which he nods in response.

“Well, we have a month together, so start explaining why you hate it so much,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, and before you could reply, the waiter hurriedly returns to your table, apologizing for the wait, mentioning the kitchen’s struggle with the influx of orders. But you keep your eyes on the boy in front of you, who looks at the waiter, reassuring him it’s okay.

The smell of fresh, hot pizza fills your nostrils as you finally snap out of your trance, looking down at the pizza the waiter is sliding onto the table, cautioning you both that it is extremely hot. The waiter continues to place all the food you ordered on the table before leaving with a bow.

“I’m starving, oh my god,” Jungkook moans as he picks up a slice of pizza and takes a bite, ignoring the steam.

“How is that not burning your tongue, oh my…” you begin to say, but you’re interrupted as you take a bite of your own slice, immediately regretting it as you burn your tongue. “Ah, ah, ha,” you drop the pizza onto your plate, sticking your tongue out and fanning your mouth with your hand. A small laugh escapes from Jungkook as you shoot him a snarky glare.

“He literally just told you it was hot, ribbons,” Jungkook says, grabbing a napkin from the container and reaching over to wipe some sauce off your lips and face. The fanning from your hand halts as you stare at his focused face, feeling yourself heat up again, but this time it’s not your mouth—it’s your cheeks.

“Why did you just do that?” you ask before you can stop yourself, as he sits back down properly. “I’m starting my boyfriend material journey, you know, since the project?” Jungkook says casually, taking another bite of pizza, watching you in surprise as you shockingly observe him not being fazed by the burning food in his mouth, chewing happily.

“Oh… we’re starting right now?” you gesture to the table between you both, indicating ‘right now’. “Yeah, we only have one month, let’s make it worth it,” he says, diving back into his food.

God, this month was definitely going to be a roller coaster.

💌taglist— @brune77e @cherryfragrancx @inlovewithharutoo @jcnggukie @vkjmjjk @seokjinspinkslipper @jayjahni @mxrecg @suciedad-divina @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aiiselle90210 @lovingkoalaface @httpjeonlicious @thekookiedealer @somehowukook @taiwan0618 @gwsjungkookie @chxrrybangtan @seokout @junecat18 @joonsanswer @ahgasegotarmy116recs @jkmylove97 @letjungcoook7 @skzthinker @whoa-jo @ziyaexe @kooloveys @sneezedonthebeat @parkinglot-nights @btsffreader92 @jjeonjjk7 (lmk if you wanna get taken off)

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doudouma · 6 months

Text

“angel and demon, ying and yang”

muzan with his (non-violent) s/o demon male!reader who has a appearance and bda of an angel!

_______________________________________________

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

somebody who is a demon, but looks like an angel. someone else who is also a demon, but looks scarily sophisticated. what are the odds that they’re a couple?〜

light mentions of killing. other than that, there are no warnings, my dear lotus.

reader is male.❀ 〜

a/n : this is a oxymoron isn't it?

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

muzan, the demon king, and you, a ethereal angel, clearly has both different appearances and most likely different viewpoints.

however, that doesn’t stop your beloved from silently adoring you, nor from being intrigued by your angelic nature〜

certainly, muzan will think you’re absolutely perfect, how couldn’t you be? you’re a demon, but your a angel! isn’t that wonderful〜？

i mean cmon! you’re entirely stunning, everyone loves your aura, you move with such grace and command in your walk, and is highly intelligent and collected.

you’re so amazing to the point where even the demon king credits you! not only because you’re his partner, but because he knows your independence.

your lover would not address you as a demon, but rather an angel. to him, you are only an angel♡

“as demons, chaos and killing is in our nature. but as for you, my angel, you’re quite nurturing and calm.”

however… he wouldn't be too fond of your angelic mindset. he doesn’t want you to be calm when in times where you shouldn’t be!

meaning, if someone hurts you, instead of walking away or something, he’d much rather you… unalive them. but you won’t!

that gets him a bit upset.. why are you letting someone who disrespected you live?! but don’t worry, that’s when your lover takes over…

speaking of taking over, he’ll also take over any dirty work you have, either doing it himself or telling one of his pawns demons to do it.

by the way, the uppermoons and other demons (like rui, enmu etc) is very doting of you!

to the extent muzan will allow :

kokushibo enjoys your silent company. also the fact that he can lower his guard a bit, knowing there’s a gentle yet protective figure he can rely on♡

douma pretty much enjoys all of your presence. especially since no one else really wants to be around him. he’s quite clingy knowing you don’t mind, almost like a small child〜

akaza, of course, admires your strength. he also likes the fact that you’re not nearly as annoying as douma or muzan (yes, your own lover!).

hantengu is much, much too scared to approach you. but your calm aura allows himself to slowly stop crying, even just for a minute. for some reason, i feel like he would buy you beautiful ornaments, but would be too scared to give them too you.

gyokko would simply think that you’re a work of art. he would get immensely happy and all blushy (like he did with muzan) if you even compliment his pots! is that all he cares about?

gyutaro & daki would love that you don’t look down upon them like the other uppermoons do. one person having faith in you goes a long way! because of this, they would see you as a parental figure. secretly, they call you “father” behind your back. it gives them a sense of comfort〜

rui would love you twos’ bond! it’s very adorable and wholesome, and muzan is even fond of it. he most likely knows about his “favorite privileges” so he would love to bond with you any time he can.

i had to explain it individually, because all of the demons are truly different. but, my point is clear, right? in their own way, they all yearn for your comfort〜

the uppermoons find you and your lovers’ relationship cute, although they won’t admit this to at least not muzan.

muzan wouldn’t mind though, he wants everyone to know that his lover is a perfect angel.

as we all know, muzan is quite a stressed man. but you, are able to stay calm.

he sincerely appreciates you in his life, because you remind him to take breaks from his experiments, and to take care of himself. which he will anyways, he’s obsessed with vanity.

if you have any special abilities that very few demons have, then expect muzan to want to do just a few experiments.

but don’t worry! he always asks for consent and never does anything that could hurt you〜

if you have any physical angelic qualities (like wings, halo, crown, sword, etc) then muzan will like to just touch them. he doesn’t know why he does it. he will claim that he’s trying to “keep your perfection up”, but truthfully he just likes it.

“as the second most perfect being, you must look as angelic as you are. there is no excuse.”

now that i’m thinking about it… your lover might use you as a benchmark to the other demons. “why can’t you all be as strong as (m/n).” is probably what he once said to the lower moons.

but since they most likely wouldn’t know you, they’re all like “???”

like i said before, muzan definitely recognizes your independence, but he would be lowkey clingy.

always taking you along to meetings, spying on people/demons together, taking walks in forests, having you in his lab while he works, and even doing shopping for luxurious items.

him dragging you everywhere is also a way how he shows love. the fact that he wants you in his presence♡

in his own way, he thinks of you guys as a power couple!

your partner will be protective of you. you’re now one of the most important aspects of his life, and he couldn’t be anymore grateful for that.

he is reckless, but muzan didn’t tell one of his soft desires. it’s just him and you being able to sit in the sun, smiling and enjoying the company of each other, even if you’re not saying a word.

for now, that’ll lie dormant. his faith will never leave him, not as long as he has you♡

this did take a minute to get done, my apologies. but! it did get done! i thought this idea was really cute, per usual. i’m very grateful for my continuous support, and i have other works i want to get out! my precious flowers, thank you for your patience❀〜

#boop #doudouma #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #demon slayer muzan #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x reader #kibutsuji muzan #male reader #upper moons #kokushibo #douma #akaza #hantengu #gyokko #gyutaro #kny daki #kny

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hecates-corner · 3 months

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Why did I cry to The Thunder Saga?

Well, there are about a million intricate reasons. Let’s graze the hardest hitters by walking through the saga.

Suffering

Penelope is well-played by the sirens. I knew they were the sirens, I think we all did, but we have the advantage of dramatic irony.

Also, as someone who was told that the sirens weren’t going to be in the saga (but… aren’t they literally perfect? Why wouldn’t they be in it?), I was gaping at my screen in unadulterated excitement and glee.

We as listeners don’t yet know that Odysseus isn’t afraid of the water. It’s never mentioned. So, at the time, my heart ached, if you know about Get In The Water, upcoming. Without spoilers… I think you know why I gasped, though it was futile.

Different Beast

It is, entirely, a reflection of the previous song. Also, it shows how ruthless Odysseus is becoming.

Not just with the slicing and dicing of the sirens’ tails. But the fact that he begins the song by shooting his dear wife, when at first he couldn’t even kill a stranger’s baby, knowing the risks both times.

Also, might I add that the vocals of the sirens are perfect? Aquatic, musical, and monstrous. Very, very inhuman.

Scylla

This is the one that hurts quiiiiite a lot. Besides all of the beautiful cacophonies of the first deaths of our beloved comrades.

I was led to think that, in the beginning and throughout the song, Scylla was singing to Eurylochus just out of sight. She was.

And yet, she wasn’t. At all.

She is deep down. Eurylochus has a secret deep down. And Odysseus knows that deep down, he is doing a bad thing. A bad thing.

But hey, at least Eurylochus feels remorse for his selfish action, right?

Mutiny

This entire song is a callback. This saga was all a callback, and it hurts a ton.

Going from the genuine pain and mortification in Eurylochus’s voice, to Odysseus’s silence, to the usurping and loss of trust, to the large switch in the music after Odysseus is temporarily debilitated, and then the sad, whiny, “Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do…”

Also, loved Eurylochus calling Odysseus “Ody”, because that shows the depth of their closeness.

Thunder Bringer

And here.

Here is the song that made me cry.

The beginning of the song throws in the crude characterization of Zeus, the lustiness. I love that addition, that largely focused detail.

I froze mid-pace when Zeus told Odysseus to make a choice.

What hurt was the silence. We all knew what was coming.

The slightly distorted, almost underwater or ghastly vocals from Eurylochus struck a nerve, and then reminded me of a child. As if his life were finished, and they all knew it. Odysseus saw a boy, not a man, and knew how this story would finish. Because heroes never get happy endings.

And, to boot, the animation was their final attempt to grab him, to kill him, in desperation. And then—

What hurts the most is that they saw him make the choice. They knew what would happen. But they didn’t want to believe it.

They were never going to make it home.

#I was standing during this whole saga #and I actually fell to my knees when I started to cry #I was in so much pain dude #kudos to Jay #greek mythology #greek myth #mythology #epic the musical #epic the thunder saga #epic thunder saga #thunder saga #the thunder saga #jorge rivera herrans #jay herrans #⚡️

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planchettewrites · 2 months

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"Red Hair" Shanks (One Piece)/AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Imagine being "Red Hair" Shanks' wife.

CONTENT: Angst (Shanks losing his arm, talk of infidelity), Fluff (Weddings, Falling in Love)

A/N: Shanks my beloved. While I work on an ideally long Sanji fic, I needed something to post. Hence, this Shanks imagine. This can be read as OPLA!Shanks or Anime/Manga!Shanks. My friend Claudia always tells me being Shanks' wife would be a rather depressing endeavor, but to that I say, bring it. Enjoy bbys!

653 words | Safe!

Imagine being Shanks’ wife.

You’re not a pirate; you’re far from it. You worked at Party’s as a barmaid; you just happened to be the lucky lady to catch Shanks’ eye. Red Haired Shanks, a feared pirate, was nothing but a man with his hat in his hand asking to marry you. You had feelings for the pirate for a while, so of course, you accepted his proposal. You still remembered his words: “Would you marry me, darlin’? Make me the happiest man alive?” His words made you melt. Everything about him made you melt.

The wedding was nothing special in the grand scheme of things; it was what would be considered a “courthouse” wedding. It was held at the very bar you met, and you dolled yourself up nice: your nicest dress, your best available makeup, and you did your hair the way you like it. Shanks wore his Sunday best—which frankly wasn’t much, but you were always a sucker for the rugged look. The rest of the Shanks’ crew and all your friends were there too. Your officiant was the town elder, who looked at you and Shanks with a smile. He grabbed your hands, wished you eternal happiness, and told the pirate that he better not let a single tear slip down your cheek. Shanks promised.

There were two days he couldn’t keep that promise, the first being the day he lost his arm. As he and Luffy came to shore, you noticed the blood draining from the lost limb and screamed. You screamed so loud you were sure they could hear you around the East Blue. As Makino ushered Luffy away, you practically threw yourself at your husband. You were sobbing, grabbing at his shirt, asking what the hell had happened. He shushed and cooed you quietly, telling you what happened. You wanted to punch him, scream at him for his recklessness, but he was protecting a child that he cared for, and you couldn’t fault him for that. As you ushered him to the medic, you continued to cry. You loved your husband more than anything, and nothing would ever change that.

The second time he made you cry was when he left for the Grand Line, telling you that you couldn't come with him. You were enraged, and you showed it with tears. Thoughts raced of him with a hoard of different women, him getting hurt, or getting betrayed, or worse, his death. You couldn't stand any of those things; you needed to be there with him. You rarely got angry at your husband, but today was the day you became livid at him. Instead of screaming out of sheer horror, you screamed in sheer anger. How dare he? How dare he find it acceptable to leave you here forever? Alone. Alone, without the man you promised to spend the rest of your life with. Beck Beckman and the rest of the crew watched this unfold; you were not one to make a scene, but you weren’t going down without a fight. Beckman had approached Shanks, saying he was more than welcome to bring you.

Shanks shook his head and said: “I couldn’t live with myself if she got hurt.”

You fell to your knees. You weren’t going to beg. You had to accept this fate, the fate of a wife with a husband out at sea. Until you feel Shanks lift your chin and help you return to your feet. He kissed you with passion and pulled you into the tightest hug he could: “Where would I be without my wife by my side? You can come along, darlin’.”

From that day forward, you were on the sea with the Red Hair Pirates. More importantly, you were on the sea with your husband, the feared pirate Red Haired Shanks. Your souls in the ocean together would be, and that’s all you needed to be happy.

Please like, reblog, and comment! I love to hear from readers!

#planchettewrites #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks #red hair shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x yn #akagami no shanks x reader #one piece #opla #one piece anime

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evilminji · 4 days

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You know my Crechelings Are Possessed post?

What if it was just the one? A SI-OC or OC?

Dying and going THROUGH the Force? I will attest, is GONNA have side effects. You're gonna end up... weird. Not Normal for a Force Sensitive. Kinda like Anikin tbh. A bit TOO in tune. A bit TOO aware. Connected.

As though your brain was cracked open 5+ dimensionally, to the Whole Of Creation that IS the Force and it kinda fucked you up a bit. Cause as A Luminous Force Being? You were fine! Energy and light! But as MATTER? Well...

Matter breaks.

Can withstand only so much.

We are LIMITED by our matter, crude and flawed as it is. Beloved as it may be.

Cause make no mistake! You aren't BROKEN. But you are CHANGED. There were a series of clear, monumentous, and "life" altering events back to back here! Death, a traumatizing thing no matter HOW peaceful it may have been. And in all likelihood? It was NOT a peaceful end. It probably? Hurt. Was frightening. Abrupt. There is grief and hurt there. Fear.

Then the trauma of being separated from everyone we have ever known. Without closure. For them OR us. Our empathy would remind us of their suffering. That they do NOT know we are okay. That we have no way to TELL them we are. This too, is trauma. But? Worse?

Is the Force.

We? Are no Jedi. Not yet. We are confused. Lost and do not understand. It is FOREIGN to us. An outside will that we cannot escape. Where are our gods? The death we expected? The afterlife we assumed we would meet? It's INSIDE US. It IS US. We are IT. We don't know where we are and everything feels?

E N D L E S S .

Can force ghosts even cry? Weep, terrified and overwhelmed? Afraid? Simply BRINGING us to them would not impart understanding. And imparting understanding? Well... we know it to be not OF us? To be inflicted. An invasion. The Force is not cruel. But! Importantly! It is not and has never BEEN? Mortal.

Blue and Orange morality is at play. How do you explain to a formless, infinite, all knowing, all powerful God Force? The concept of "boundaries"? Limits? There is GOOD to be done. It's helping you! Pushing love and comfort! Surely that should work? Why is that not working? It is... confused. Not MADE for such contemplations.

This too, is Trauma. Being held in the hands of a God. Benevolent does not mean SAFE. Does not mean you will not be unharmed. Just... that they do not MEAN to harm you.

Or have very Good Reasons for why they "Must".

The Force Ghosts help. They are patient in the way only old Master's could be. Kind. They understand. Have taught. And so? Though they are quite confused, they understand you struggle to release your fear. Explaining things helps. Talking helps. And you find peace.

Not the afterlife you EXPECTED, but not terrible.

Which... of course, is when once again things change.

Birth, Life, these TOO, are Trauma. You were FREE. No more pain. No aches. No hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion. Connection deeper then this broken and flawed matter could ever hope to achieve. The world has gone SILENT. Muffled. Like solitary confinement for the SOUL.

Only in meditation, are you FREE.

Your parents can't handle you. You grieve for them. For the child they should have had. Look around the nursery, so filled with excitement and love, and feel nothing but the urge to weep. You are a stillborn, brought to life. A child stolen. They deserved better then this. Even as you can not be anything but what you ARE? What of THEIR sorrow? Their confusion and futures now impossible?

You love them. They are not yours. Will never tryely be your parents, for all they brought you into this world. But oh, Oh, you love these poor grieving souls. Wish it had not been you. That they could have had the child they were so excited to love. You... you are sorry. So, so sorry.

They take you to the Temple. You guild them to a child in need, first. Hope they will be happy.

You do not look back.

They put you in a Creche with others just as "Unusually Strong" in the Force. Is that Grogu? Hi Grogu. Who are the rest of you? The room is quite. Everyone talking loudly in the Force, instead. It would be deafening for the more delicate younglings. They don't have the shields for it yet. The children here SHOUT without meaning too, like standing at a rock concert.

Visions are a constant thing. Unusual Force gifts and manifestations. Illirrrska can see auras. Doesn't know what they MEAN, mind you, and xe sees them on EVERYTHING that lives, but still! Xey are well on xeir way to figuring it out. (Xey have a holo document cataloging the colors, you see.)

You fit right in! With your Tiny Herald Of Death To Come nature. Your Creche mates believe you. The adults? Have grown numb. Used to filtering. Tiny younglings with Too Much Force flowing through them? Are horrors. Viscerally unsettling. Unnatural.

Even to the Jedi.

But! They REFUSE to treat children with such caution and distain. Hold them at an arms length out of FEAR. So they mentally filter. "That's nice dear, horrifying concepts and brain melting secrets, mmmhmmm. Eat your pudding. Who wants to play float ball~‽ Yaaaaaay!"

No one will listen. Future in motion. But really, of course it is. You are no fool.

However... tell me, Master Jedi. Does it matter? If we die one step to the right as apposed to the left? Because you would not LISTEN when the Force spoke? The future only changes when you ACT. Not when you REFUSE too. Out of FEAR. Out of IGNORANCE. Out of ATTACHMENT.

And make no mistake, you ARE attached. Clinging so hard to your beliefs that you could not POSSIBLY be wrong. Could not POSSIBLY be fallible, be fooled by the Dark Side and lead astray, that you have turned your back on the very Tennants of the Code itself.

What is more important? Tradition or the Force? The innocent or the way things were? Tell me, what is the will of the Force... and what is Fear? Convenience? The little moral compromises that damn? Who do you serve, Master Jedi? And ARE you serving them?

Perhaps you should meditate.

Just???

This Tiny Cryptid Crecheling? That speaks like a wizened old Master? Feels like a tiny star in the Force? Not a cute lil ball of light. A FUCKING STAR. Giant ball of gas in space, a burning ball of light, THAT kind of star! But... small? Person shaped. It's like meditating next to a Force Nexus.

They just? Hand you things. Or sabotage random ships. Literally just FUCKING SHOT a knight once, for no clear reason! All they would say is "it's not like you'll actually listen. This is the only way." What? Of COURSE WE'LL LISTEN! (No. They won't. Just ask Sifo. Ask Obi-Wan. The Sith, fear, and hubris have eroded the Jedi from within.)

The full blown confidence of an adult? Combined with the creepy "oh god. They're in THE VENTS!!!" Nature of highly force sensitive Crechelings?

Magnificent~☆

They can see into your SOUL. Are holding a toddler that squirms around, wiggles up to whisper in their ear, gets a nod, only for YOU to be somberly informed that your second in command (a life long friend) has betrayed you. Avoid wearing red. You will die on a Friday. By the way, they can't reach the counter... could you hand them those snacks?

One of the other one speaks to trees.

The trees SPEAK BACK.

Prophecy. Fuckin Terrifying Prophecy EVERYWHERE.

Did YOU want to know that your grandson will grow up to kill his brother? No? Too bad! Not even married yet? ALSO TOO BAD! Have FUN with that knowledge! How about learning that there is horrific suffering planets away? No. No there ISN'T anything you can do about it. Just... here! Have some Deeply Cursed Knowledge. From a toddler. Now! They're gonna go eat grass~☆

The appear and disappear at random. Climb the walls. Fuckin FLOAT. The Force itself is their imaginary friend! They literally consult it over PUDDING CHOICES. Sometimes? They talk in perfect synchronization, like a hive mind. Stare without blinking. One moment they are perfectly normal children... the next? Like PUPPETS.

Tiny avatars. Through which SOMETHING GREATER speaks. They KNOW, not think, KNOW what they need to do. You can not convince them. Trying just makes you an obstacle to be overcome.

They are four.

Toddlers and children. Younglings. Initiates!

I just? Want there to be? A portion of Deeply Cursed/Possessed Crechelings? That are just LIKE that. Loved regardless. Nothing wrong with them. They're just too strong for their lil bitty baby brains. Once they learn to shield better? It'll balance out. Anikin would have gone there, had he been found young.

It'd be hilarious? If what saves the galaxy? Is someone finally REMEMBERING that? And thinking to themselves?

"Hey, you know what might be good for that Skywalker kid? Being exposed to more Force Sensitives that GET him. We should put him on Cursed Crechelings duty for a bit." And??

Anikin? Is in LOVE? They are all so SMOL an NORMAL? Finally! Jedi who aren't EMOTIONALLY DISTANT! Shielded? What do mean "Shielded"? No I'm not shouting all the time! This is my normal speaking voice! *Skywalker confusion as he cuddles babies*

Cause like? He too? Spoke in horrifying prophecy? Was vaguely Anti-christ-y? Did the (o.o) see into your sooooooul stare? So WHAT? That's just how babies ARE!

.....what do you MEAN "no"?

Every day, throwing open Obi-Wan's poor, slowly being destroyed, front door like "Master! Did you know I am AN OUTLIER!? And REALLY LOUD!? Other people aren't emotionally crippled psychopaths, they're just really REALLY quite compared to me!!" "Ah. Yes, Anikin, please. Maybe say that LOUDER. I don't think the ENTIRE temple quite heard you... -_- "

Just?? Anikin Skywalker! And his Hoard of Creepy Possessed Crechelings that are TOTALLY NORMAL, Guys! All kids are like this! He's a GREAT role model and baby sitting! Yeah, it's the Clone wars, and no, he has NO idea how the entire Creche got onto the ship... but hey! Enrichment! That's good for them, right?

(^-^) (o.o) (|o.o|) (o,o) (o-o) (|o,o|)

*clones look from their general, to the tiny unblinking magic jedi babies, back to their general* s-sure?

@legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @leftnotright @starwarsblr

#minji's writing #star wars #Possessed Crechelings au #Anikin's Totally Normal Baby Squad Au #star wars prompt #long post

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pavosnoctua · 4 months

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Please please please! Can I ask for yan!Neuvillette with dragoness!darling?? 🥺🥺

I like yandere!xYandere! Darling (I don't know why? I loved your Diluc x delusional reader)

Hello! Thank you for the wait!

Thank you!

cw: obsessive behaviors, possessive behaviors, general yandere warnings, abuse of power, afab reader, dub-con, fade to black, mentions of breeding, slight ooc, stockholm syndrome(?). the writer does not condone these actions, minors dni, mdni, yandere content, slight dead dove. if i am missing a tag, let me know!

Neuvilette is a...kind lover. In the sense he doesn't keep his darling trapped away in a luxurious home, and he allows you to go out and about, so long as you have some security detail with you. You are, after all, his lover and he wants to take the utmost care so you don't get hurt or get lost. You're just like him, in a sense, so of course he wants to keep you safe.

You tell yourself this every time - it's for your own good, for your own safety as you are like him. A dragon, a dragonness really, in human form but your eyes give you away and this makes you a target of nefarious people. Fontaine is full of crime, after all. Neuvilette is unafraid of using his status against you, spies everywhere. You can't escape unless you leave Fontaine, and you can't leave Fontaine because the world outside of the gilded cage of your home is dangerous and terrifying.

At least, that's what he told you. Look at how Fontaine is. Do you believe Sumeru, Natlan, or Mondstadt would be any better? You have me.

A dragon species is a rare species, hardly ever born - the details of it are lost to you and nobody explains it to you and Neuvilette seems to want to keep you from it. So, all you can do is rely on him.

He kisses you, softly, kindly, bringing you something he knows you'd love - his fingers running over your hips. He is a perfect lover, tender with you as he leads to your marital bed. Something happened in court today, something that set off his protective instincts.

Hunger is in his blue eyes as he kisses your lips until they're puffy from being licked and bit. Wet kisses press along your neck, hands rubbing at your thighs as he leaves red marks everywhere.

"You'll make a good mother," he groans as he grinds himself against you. If there's one thing that puts you both apart from the humans, it's how reproduction works. There's two penises and you're not sure you can take both or even just one, with how big he seems. "Gonna - make sure you never leave. I'll keep you and our child safe."

All you can do is lift your lips to help him remove your skirt - made up of highest and best quality.

"My beautiful mate." he groans as he pushes one dick inside of you, and you cry out. Neuvilette presses desperate kisses against your lips. "It's okay, my beloved." Your cunt clenches around him. "You were made for this."

You nod, weakly.

You are, you tell yourself. Neuvilette is a wonderful lover, he leaves you wanting for nothing. You are free to wandering Fontaine's streets so long as there is someone with you. You, one of the few rare dragons left in this world, just need the extra detail. And Neuvilette is making sure you're safe, you're happy, and the two of you are perfect mates. And the best you can do to repay this kindness is give him what he wants.

#yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvilette x y/n #yandere neuvilette x you #yandere neuvilette x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin x you #neuvilette #mine.txt

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khuzena · 6 months

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Your Guardian Angel

Sunday x g/n!reader

Summary: oh guardian angel, my sweet guardian angel. Save me, Save me. If you can't, what're you truly for? When your angel loves you, when he betrays destiny for you; only for his wings to be chipped at the expense of a helpless attempt.

Cw. Very angsty, falling in love (but it's forbidden), religious references (specifically Christian topics) AU where ppl can talk to their angels lol, mentions of self harm but no actual scene with it!!!, no bandaid can fix the emotional wound after reading this. SOME fluff, no comfort like usual. 🫨🫨🫨 YOU DIE!

A/n: I'm on fire (like literally. It's 36° here.)

Your knees burn as you stare up at the altar displayed in front you, you wonder if the aeons would be kind enough to finally send you your guardian angel.

“Please,” you begged, wishing any god to heed your call, “Just this once I'll ask.”

“Send me someone kind, someone to protect me.”

That day, fate was generous enough to grant you your angel.

A chill ran down your spine, rubbing your eyes for good measure to make sure you weren't dreaming.

“You called?”

You gulp nervously, the being's halo blinding you.

One, he reached his hand out to you, his smile all you needed to feel okay.

Your guardian angel accompanies you whenever you go out to buy groceries, when your fingers trace along the unhealthy snack bar, he's quick to tut and swat your hand away.

“That's unhealthy, dear.”

“But—”

“Just this once?”

He shook his head no, feeling distraught, you devised a plan to grab a pack of double chocolate cookies; much to his dismay.

Who did you think you were fooling?

“Dear, I said no.”

You sighed, “Just one?”

Out of all the humans on the list, why'd he pick you? But when you smile at him so brightly, out of every human he's ever guided, he's still unsure of his answer—

Your shoulders slump, “Pretty please?”

He exhales an exasperated sigh, letting you win over him just this once.

“Fine.”

— Maybe he is, Maybe he isn't.

There were times nightmares were unkind and brutal that you'd wake up in cold sweat. Your mind flashing you memories of the past you wished to lock away, you'd pray again.

“Dear, wake up,” that familiar soothing voice ringing in your ears.

Where? The shackles of that dream still bruise you harshly, yet your loving guardian angel is there to soothe your scars.

“It's okay.”

It's not okay, you know.

No words were exchanged when he took your hand in his, his honey eyes seeing through you, “Just breathe.”

Your tears found solace in his shoulder as he patted your back, letting you cry it all out, “It hurts, Sunday.”

“I know,” his gloved hand wiping your tears gently, “I know.”

Like a child, for many dreadful nightmares to come, you cry and cry for him to relieve you of this pain. You needn't to get on your knees and ask the aeons for comfort. All you need to do is shed a single tear and he'll kiss them away.

Two, your oh so sweet guardian angel, he drives them all away.

Years pass and you've grown used to your guardian angel, you'd find him taking the form of an owl.

Like one time, you were in class— culinary class to be specific. Who knows what aeon decided to ruin your day and made you trip on a puddle of leftover batter on the tiled floor.

“Eek—!”

You'd think you'd hit head first but something held you up, when you turned around, there was no one there.

The owl perched on the branch just outside the window, shook its head in dismay, once again, you don't die today.

He may save you from all catastrophes but he cannot save you from impending doom.

As an angel, by all means, he has every right to read your destiny; woven by lord Xipe, of course.

Eyes narrowing at the scroll, your life ends early when you get roped into an unforeseen accident at a public event.

“Sunday, dear. 5 days until your host departs,” his beloved lord's voice echoing the room as they loom over his shoulder to watch your end unfold.

“We should find you a new human.”

Sunday trembled at the sight, a memory he wishes to never replay again. You were in an event and some drunkard decides to shoot it all up, bullets ablaze as you get caught in the crossfire.

“I…”

I mustn't disobey lord Xipe.

“Yes, lord Xipe,” he gave a weak smile to his god, your death still replaying.

How could he be fine?

When you tell him of your dreams, how you'd leave this wretched city, leave penacony and write your own fate; when destiny had already set yours in stone.

“Do you think I'll become big in the industry?”

The sunset falls upon you too and he doesn't have it in him to tell you what's bound to happen to you, “Yes.”

“You sound hesitant.”

“I'm just thinking.”

It wasn't often you see Sunday like… this.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “It's nothing.”

You two have been together long enough that it only takes you a second to realise the shift in the atmosphere, “Whatever, I'm going to be successful and we'll travel.”

He wonders if you noticed the way his wings are stiffening at your words, he may be an angel, “Sure,” but he is a liar first.

He doesn't want to think about it, he doesn't want to remember.

Your curious eyes never leave him, he wishes it did. He wishes he never got too attached.

That disgustingly sweet smile of yours, you'll never know that it made home in his head.

“Here,” he wore the rosary in your hand, it felt comforting feeling his gloved hand against your skin, “What is this for?”

He still doesn't have the courage to look you in the eye knowing 3 days from now they'd be devoid of light, “For protection, to show devotion to our god.”

You let out a hum of approval, admiring the beads.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes”

“I'm glad.”

Fleeting moments like these don't last. But when he musters up the courage to look you in the eyes again; he wishes that Lord Xipe was loving enough that this moment would.

Destiny is a strange thing. It gives you time to dream but never enough time to do.

Just where the hell were you?

Sunday panics as he flies over the crowd, exactly a minute before your death.

Lord Xipe must be cruel, watching from the stars as he scurries in the mortal realm like a rat to save a mere mortal like you.

“Sunday?”

‘Bang.’

You hear gunshots piercing the skies and those beside you.

“What's happening—”

“Just shut up,” angels were not allowed to be this crude but for your sake, he covered your eyes as he led the two of you behind a pillar.

Your gut instinct tells you to run but you've grown to trust him enough with your life. How could you not when he gently wraps his arms around your trembling figure?

“S-sun… day…,” you cried, feeling something piercing your stomach.

But how? He… he saved you didn't he?

“Stay calm,” he scolds you as if he wasn't scrambling around his options on how to save you, “Please.”

He prays, “Lord Xipe, please.”

But songs stay unsung, prayers remain unheard.

He cries to the sky as crimson stains his gloves, his holy tears cannot patch your wounds. His prayers cannot fix you. If he had known, he would not have sung those odes to lord Xipe, if only he had known his god's mercy was nothing but just strings of fallacies.

“Lord Xipe!”

An agonising scream that transcends the barrier of heaven and earth, yet his beloved god turned their back on him.

Your eyes shut then he felt the hand that intertwined with him go limp, “Lord Xipe.”

In desperate sobs, “Please.”

No amount of begging would bring you back, just like his sister, Robin, you are dead, you are gone.

Not being able to save you— he's betrayed you.

He kissed your cheek before letting death take you.

My God, why have you forsaken me?

He has no time to mourn, “It burns,” under the scrutinising gaze of the divine, his wings turn charcoal black.

Lord Xipe is all forgiving yet they have abandoned him for something so little.

A god so forgiving, yet when Sunday looks down at his hands, only a shade of balsam and black stare back at him.

There is no redemption for his sin, there is no redemption for either of you.

You can no longer dream, he can no longer dream with you.

His halo crumbles into ash and an undeniably painful grief fills him, “Lord xipe.”

His radiant halo no more, only to be replaced by the glow of the sunset like a crown of thorns.

He cries again, his god is gone and you are too.

Note: forgive me if its kinda shit, i really can't think of an angst idea for sunday that isn't yandere since im not rlly big about yan tropes anddd not proofread. I hope y'all enjoyed it tho, i just needed to get this idea out of my brain. Sunday is vv manipulative but i js wanted to write a ver of him thats just gentle ISTFGGGGGG

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#what have i done #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #sunday x reader #sunday fluff #hsr sunday #hsr angst #hsr sunday x reader #honkai star rail sunday #honkai star rail sunday x reader

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faeryarchives · 8 months

Text

more than words (sebek zigvolt & silver x gn!reader)

requested by anon: Hey, hopefully still open! I hope I didn't break any rules, because it's kinda angsty, but tries my best no to be heavy. It'll be Silver and Sebek. Where Yuu eyes got injured and they need time to heal so their eyes got bandage and blind temporary. The idea is from Naruto, where Hinata got eyes injury and Neji help silently. So imagine them still in pining state. Helping their crush silently :"). note: hi anon! no you did not break any rules but i made it both headcanon and scenario wise hihi other fics: heartslabyul with a furina-like reader & savanaclaw with a furina-like female reader & i'm not jealous !! (savanaclaw x gn!reader) & to my beloved (octavinelle x gn!s/o)

⚘ sebek zigvolt

sebek didn't mean for it to happen - everything went like a blur and the only thing he remembered vividly is how you start panicking and crying out how you can't see anything

if he knew that helping you and your group out would lead to a disaster, he would just stayed in his lane

"(name)!" sebek immediately ran towards you, assisting you in maintaining your balance as you tried to prevent any more of the alchemy liquid from coming in contact with your eyes. "henchman, are you alright?!" grim ran at the speed of light - wiping the disaster off your face. "i'm fine, you guys! just give me a minute." crewel made his way towards you worriedly. "little pup, can you open your eyes?" sebek watched you open your eyes, only to look disturbed for a reason. "...? why is everything so blurry?" you started to blink rapidly to try to make the blurriness of your vision away, only for it to worsen, and the light was not helping. instead - it just made everything worse. "i'm kidding, everything is not fine. i can't see anything. every time i try to blink it hurts!" "... i think you should take some time off of class."

all he wanted was to help you out 🙁 did he messed up again?

he couldn't help but feel down even after being graced with malleus presence which caused the diasomnia trio to notice his odd behavior

"it turns out child of man got into an accident?" "and regrettably - it's all my fault." "then why don't you go and help them out? i'm sure they will appreciate it."

that is why sebek found himself trailing behind you silently - watching over you while grim went out to fill in your classes

seeing the bandage around your eyes made him feel more guilty that is why he opt to not reveal his presence

reaching out for your water bottle but it's out of reach? you will miraculously find it next to you after one minute + during the morning there is already breakfast served for you and grim and you knew that ace and deuce definitely didn't do it

it's not like you were that dumb to not notice anything especially when you hadn't tripped over anything + not knowing how sebek would prevent himself from screaming and immediately grabbing the random things on the floor for you to not slip

oh you only know the surface how this man would look at you with so much care to the point that the ghosts felt like they were intruding on the both of you

helping and guiding you around became a part of sebek's regular routine; honestly, he was so happy he got to assist you in his own way! and he got to see many sides of you, too - flustered after almost tripping down the stairs, getting frustrated in opening things after trying to force the lid to the opening direction and such.

it became a surprise to him how well you adapt to your situation, especially when you start to look in his direction - as if you knew who he was. imagine his shock when you finally took several steps forward and reached out your arm only to press it against his chest.

"sebek, it's you who's helping me around, right?

"…! how did you-?!"

"you are not as sneaky as you think. don't you know the charm I gave you as a gift has a certain sound?" your hands seem to find his own, and you finally gently wrap them in your touch.

"i was wondering why you are staying silent all this time though."

"the alchemy accident was all my fault! how can i face you after causing you to lose your vision?"

"you said it yourself; it was an accident. you didn't intend this to happen." sebek felt some pressure around his cheek from you pinching it - his eye focused on how you still have that same smile you would give him daily.

"why don't we keep each other company right now? do you listen to podcasts?"

⚘ silver

silver knew that what he feels about you is more than a platonic one + but seeing you with your other friends so happy makes him feel like he doesn't deserve you

so silver decided to maintain his distance and vowed to protect you from afar

but it became one of his regrets as he stood there helplessly and watched you get injured after helping ruggie to escape from an overblotted leona

okay, tackling leona and pushing the hyena out of his hold may not be a good idea. still, at least it worked out! "ruggie, are you okay?" you tried walking to the wounded second-year, eventually failing due to the sudden sharp pain you felt around your foot. 'fuck, must have cushioned my fall on the wrong foot...' you clicked your tongue in annoyance and tried to stand up ever so slowly, failing to realize the screams of your friends and a compelling presence looming from behind until it was too late. "behind you, idiot! why are you just standing there?!" an irk mark appeared on your head after hearing ace scream from the crowd. "who are you calling an idiot?!" "that's your priority?" your blood ran cold after finally realizing that leona was only an arm's length from you. life flashing right literally before your eyes. 'oh, i'll be damned...' "(name)!" silver didn't know how he did it but his body moved before his mind could, already running towards you and leona in fear of losing you - his hand already holding his wand tightly, but he couldn't think of any spells to cast. the damage was already done by the time the knight reached you and carried you away. "please be okay. please be okay, please be okay—" silver froze when you start to reach out towards him, your hands were now start to bleed from the excessive cracking of your skin. but the worst was yet to come. "s-silver? is that you?! i can't see anything!" "...what?" "it hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much. why won't it stop?!" the second year could feel his heart drop as you start to cry out in pain and how it will forever haunt him even to his dreams. "i'm so sorry, it'll be over soon, i promise."

it turns out you were not accustomed to experiencing highly accumulated mana and it affected most of your senses especially your eyesight

that is why crowley suggested you to take some time off + resulting you to have bandages around your eyes to avoid it to get irritated by light

you were expecting your healing time to be hard as to not being used to not seeing things - but it was like there was a uardian angel around you always

"grim, did you rearrange the dorms or something?" "me? not me! those things are heavy looking you know." "huh, maybe i am just lucky to be able to reach the things i need?" "mmm, maybe! i just remembered i asked deuce to help me bake your favorite food with trey!" "...you're leaving me alone?!" "i'll leave them to you, nya!"

that was the time when you realize someone was helping you around and it was certainly not grim 😭 i mean his little paws wouldn't be able to cook (favorite food) with him just alone

ace and deuce are good friends even though they are trouble makers but they could never be this silent 👩🏻‍⚖️

sometimes you would almost catch your secret helper only for them to suddenly disappear from your range and the people you were thinking off were slowly getting crossed out in your mind and it only leaves one person - silver

"i'll be out again nya! don't miss me too much, i'm going to bake your favorite food!"

"and i am alone once again." you tapped your finger against the table, humming and wondering if your secret helper is still around. "is anyone there?" what came as a question was only answered with pure silence - except for the birds chirping outside.

"…i'm kinda bored."

with the ghosts and grim being absent from the dorm made it lonelier for you - not used to the silence. you leaned your head on the dining table out of boredom; after days of being unable to attend class, you can't believe you missed listening to lectures!

"i think i can remove it right now right?" contemplating for a while,you remove the bandage around your eyes, wincing at the sudden brightness but rather than seeing only blurry things - your eyesight were slowly becoming clear until your sight came back to normal.

"woah… i can finally see again-"

"oh…" the moment you can finally see clearly, your eyes met shocked auroral-like hues revealing silver a few feet away from you with his arm already reaching out towards you as if prepared to catch you any moment.

"i knew it! it was you silver!" after being exposed, silver couldn't help but take a few steps back, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding your gaze. a light hue of red coating the apple of his cheeks.

"how did you know it was me?" you stood up and walk up to him - unknowingly giving him a soft smile that made his heart flutter.

"no one is as gentle and quiet as you are." pointing your finger over his shoulder, silver turned around to see a familiar group of small animals hanging around your dorm. "and i only know one person that animals love."

silver sighed before sitting on the chair next to him, holding his head in his hands. "… i feel so angry at myself for not being able to help you back then. that's why i thought-"

"thank you for saving me and even helping me while i am healing."

"you are not mad?"

"why would i be? hey, would you mind if you introduce me to your little friends?"

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst sebek #twst silver #silver twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #faeryarchives

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sorrowfulrosebud · 1 year

Note

I got idea from your keiko story. What if reader somehow meets kid shigaraki?

ANON. I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD. (Consensually of course)

Content: reader finds kid Shigaraki and takes care of him (sobs)

Genre: angst, a lot of fluff tho so it cancels out

“Okay, do I have everything? Keys, purse? Yep, looks like I do,” you reassured yourself as you set off to the store. The looming thought of the hot summer sun sent ironic shivers through your body, days lolling about on the couch sleepily when your boss wasn’t demanding every second of your time.

You locked the door hurriedly, determined to stock up on essentials, as well as some treats for your kitten, and set on your way. Your earphones nestled comfortably in your ears, drowning out the whines of crying children and rowdy school students by blaring your favourite music. It was a beautiful day nonetheless, birds twittering softly as the sun beat down on you. Your bag thumped lightly against your side, providing a steady rhythm alongside your music.

The trek was relatively easy; the local convenience store wasn’t even a 10 minute walk from your house and you were soon on your way back to your beloved princess kitten, Freya, with an armful of essentials (plus a few goodies). Music thudded from your earphones noisily, distracting you from looking properly where you were going until you nearly fell over from an unknown obstacle.

“What the hell?!” You were ready to cuss the fucker out, until you looked down.

A small child, couldn’t have been much older than six years old, stared emptily back. No. The look wasn’t empty. It was hollow, as if a child was stuck in a body it didn’t belong in. His hair was a beautiful powder blue, long and stark. It was ashy too, and slightly greasy. You assumed it was from days, possibly weeks, of parental neglect. Some of the thicker strands were matted at the back, and his fringe fell heavily over his face.

When your eyes connected, something shattered deep within your chest. Small orbs that would normally be filled with tears at the idea of being lost were totally empty. Despite the lack of emotion on the poor boy’s face, you could see some small flecks of red amongst the vast space of white.

Blood was everywhere; on his face, deep in his eyebrows, caked under his nails that he held oh so tightly. The poor baby was in trouble, and you were desperate to know why. You removed a headphone and crouched down, placing the plastic bags gently either side of you.

Each move was tentative and slow, like the shivering lamb in front of you was going to bleat and run away.

“Hey there sweetheart, are you lost? Did you lose your parents?” You questioned him softly. The boy tightened up at your question, before tears started to fill his waterline. His hands wrung tightly against each other before lifting one up to scratch his neck.

“I-I didn’t mean it!” He choked out. The tone of his voice caught you severely off guard; instead of being soft or rowdy like a regular child, he sounded strained. Not unlike nails on a chalkboard, you found yourself flinching. The scratching grew more intense as you looked on in anxiety.

“Woah, hey little guy! You could really hurt yourself doing that!” You brought your arm up to stop him scratching, before flinching backwards due to a blood-curdling scream.

“NO, PLEASE DON’T!!” He shrieked, hands covering his grimy face and fell to his sides. The petrified baby was trembling profusely despite having fallen to the ground in his fear. Tears dampened his once dry and crusty cheeks, little torso shaking in heaving breaths.

A beetle that was pottering near his hand’s disintegrated immediately, and the dots started to connect. You paused; you had to be careful about this.

“Okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t touch you, but you might change your mind after you hear my quirk. Do you want to know what it is?” You remained on his level. Slow, and gentle. Like taming a wild kitten.

This seemed to rouse the boy from his oncoming anxiety attack as he looked at you tearfully. He seemed to consider the idea, before nodding his head dolefully. A large grin overtook your features as you presented your hand.

“My quirk is called equilibrium. It means that I can balance out quirks and maintain a constant state. In exchange for being able to being ‘immune’ to quirks, I usually end up with a killer migraine that lasts a few days. It normally depends on how strong the quirk is, so I don’t really use it a lot. Isn’t that cool?!” You asked him excitedly.

The boy looked at you with curiosity. You let out a small chuckle.

“So, what I’m saying is, you can touch me and I won’t disappear. I promise you,” you solemnly swear to him, extending your pinky finger. Tenko looked at it in pure fear, almost as if the devil himself tainted it.

“I understand that you’re frightened, but you’re dirty, walking around the street with no shoes. I want to help you,” you whispered to him gently. Tenko seemed to light up at your statement.

A tiny pinky extended to you, trembling but still willing. It wrapped itself around you, and you almost shuddered at the texture of his skin. Nonetheless, you continued to loop your fingers around his small hand until you were fully holding his hand. Tenko stared at you with tears pricking his eyes again. He could… touch you?! You smiled softly.

“I told you, see? You can’t hurt me,” you promised. Tenko couldn’t help the tears that trickled down his malnourished cheeks as he dove into a hug. Your eyes widened; just what the hell has this poor baby been through? Your arms shifted under him to cup him closer to you.

“Do you want to come to my house? It’s not that far, so we can get you cleaned up, fed and then find out what to do with you,” you murmured into his ears. Tenko thought for a moment before nodding, his shaggy hair tickling your cheek.

Tenko rearranged himself to wrap his arms around your neck as you grabbed the bags that you previously dropped and nestled his legs around you.

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

The journey was only 10 minutes, and yet Tenko had dozed off on the way. His small snores rumbled softly in your ears as you fiddled in your pockets for the keys. Tenko jolted awake at the sound before realising where he was.

“Mph, are we there yet?” He whined sleepily, dry fists rubbing against his eyes. Your cat meowed at the new smell in her home, shaking the sleep off and meowing indignantly.

You set Tenko down with a slight grunt; carrying a small child and 3 grocery bags was not an easy feat. You knelt back down to Tenko’s level and gently rested your hand on his shoulder.

“Now, I need to know your name. I think it’s silly that we don’t know each other’s name, so let’s introduce ourselves before we start calling each other sillier nicknames,” you giggled, earning a small smile from the boy.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you,” you said warmly, holding out your hand. Tenko paused before giving you his hand back.

“I’m Tenko Shimura,” he mumbled back.

“Well Tenko, I think you need a bath. Am I alright to run you one?” You asked him. He thought for a moment before nodding his heavy head.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

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

The bath water was an absolute godsend to Tenko’s fractured body. The soothing smell of your cherry bakewell scented bath gel calmed Tenko’s nerves as he glanced around the bathroom.

“Is the water alright in there, sweetheart? It’s not too hot is it?” You shouted from your bedroom, gathering soft fluffy towels.

“N-no. Its… nice, thank you,” he tried shouting back, voice cracking. He observed the bath water as he waded his hands through it. Once clear as diamond, the water slowly shifted to a murky brown. Chunks of dried blood dropped into the water, splashing back into Tenko’s face. He let out a whimper; he must look disgusting.

Your soft rapping at the door brought him out of his thoughts.

“Tenko? Am I alright to come in, little lamb? I can help you wash your hair if that’s okay?” You asked him gently.

“U-um… yes please,” he nodded back. You opened the door and smiled at him to reassure his jolting nerves.

“You’re certainly looking cleaner, little lamb! Look at the colour of the tub!” You giggled before feeling your heart pang at the tears forming in Tenko’s eyes.

“Oh no, I’m sorry sweetheart. I didn’t mean to make you upset,” you rubbed his hair to comfort him. Tenko’s eyes grew wider as he started to sob louder in the tub. The feeling of something so simple as rubbing his head when he’s sad was so alien to him. God, you hated whoever did this to him.

“That’s it my little lamb, let it out. That’s a good boy, just cry until you can’t any more,” you crooned sympathetically, rubbing his head and wiping away tears.

And so, Tenko did just that. Cried. He cried until no more tears would come out, he cried until his head started to hurt, he cried for everything. For his mother, for his sister and for Mon. And oh, how he cried for his dog who provided more comfort than any member of his family.

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

When Tenko woke up again, he was bundled up in blankets on a couch that felt worlds different than the leather one at his house. This was soft and warm, with needlefelt and crocheted cushions. He lifted his sleepy head up before jolting his hands away. But the crumbling of the couch never came.

Tenko glanced down and was met with a small pair of winter gloves, cut so that Tenko’s fourth and pinky finger were concealed.

“Ah, you woke up! You worried me for a second there, little lamb. You kinda passed out on me in the bath, so I cleaned you up and bundled you up on the couch,” you rambled on as you set down a glass of milk for him.

“Here sweetheart, drink up. You must have hurt your voice badly,” you nudged it to him as he readjusted himself comfortably.

“T-thank you,” he mumbled brokenly, voice still strained from all of the crying. He took the first gulp before realising just how thirsty he was. Next thing you knew, the glass was empty as Tenko huffed and puffed.

“Wow little lamb, you must have been thirsty, hmm? I’ll bet you’re hungry too?” You guessed. Tenko nodded his head quickly, scared that you’ll pull back your offer. You smiled at his slight change of demeanour.

“That’s alright, I’ll go make you something now. How does Katsu curry sound?”

Tenko’s eyes lit up.

“T-that sounds good thanks,” he mumbled happily, playing with his fingers shyly. You nodded at him and told him to get comfortable.

As you cooked, Tenko remained on the couch and looked around. Your apartment was cozy, filled to the brim with trinkets and photos of your friends and family. Soft knitted blankets dotted around the room, a large scratching post for your cat as well as numerous toys.

Tenko jumped as he felt a slight shift in the couch. The small black, white and grey cat he saw earlier was staring at him, sizing him up for a moment before nestling into his side. She kneaded the blanket that pooled around his knees, purring away.

Tenko thought for a moment before tentatively stroking the gap between her ears, pleased when the purring increased tenfold.

“I see you’ve become friends with my cat,” you giggle as you present two steaming bowls.

“She’s lovely,” he murmured shyly, petting her a little more confidently. You hummed in acknowledgement as you set the bowls down as well as some cutlery.

“Now, eat up. Then, we have to go to the police and see what happens next,” you smiled at him as ice flooded his blood.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re only a child, and you clearly didn’t mean to kill anyone. I’ll have to check if you have any more family that can take you in,” your tone softened as you looked at Tenko’s face.

“I-I don’t have anyone else. A-all of my f-family was in the… the-,” he started crying again, gloved hands coming to reach his neck. You took his hand in yours and rubbed it soothingly, before lifting him up and placing him in your lap. Tenko buried his face into your neck and sobbed whilst you stroked his hair.

“I know, little lamb, I know. If that’s the case, then I’m going to look into adopting you myself, if that’s what you want?” You looked at him as you asked him.

Tenko’s eyes lit up before dimming again.

“B-but my quirk hurts people. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I’ve already hurt so many people,” He whimpered. Your heart ached looking at the young boy.

“My quirk is perfectly compatible with yours, and as long as you wear those gloves then you have no reason to worry. You’ve already seen just how mean people can be with people with a quirk like yours. If you stay with me, then I can protect you and help you,” you lifted Tenko’s chin to meet his eyes.

“Sweetheart, it’s a cruel, mean world for people who society deem ‘villains’. You have been hurt and ignored by these people, and I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again. You’re only a small boy, you didn’t deserve what happened to you. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. I can help you learn to control your quirk to prevent accidents like this again. I know it hurts now, but we can get through this. I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Tenko flung himself deeper into your chest and sobbed until his throat was raw. In the past few hours, you had shown him such kindness that it overwhelmed him, on a level that only his mother dared display. Throughout the day, you had a warm glow radiate from within you. Tenko knew he wouldn’t have anyone else look after him.

You cuddled Tenko closer to you as he settled down.

“Now, let’s eat before the food goes cold,” you smile.

“Okay mama.”

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

“Tenko? Tenko, hurry up! You’re gonna be late for your first day!” You yelled up the stairs to your adopted son.

“I know, ma! I can’t find the extra pair of gloves you gave me,” he yelled back, rootling the Eraserhead backpack you gifted him. It was his first day at UA Hero Academy, and your nerves were just as shaky as his. He eventually found them, relieved at the sight as he readjusted his tie agitatedly.

“Do you have everything? Lunch, your creams, your throat spray?” You fussed over him, straightening his tie and smoothing his blazer lapels.

“Damn ma, you were rushing me out the door and now you’re gonna make me late,” he groaned, but cracked a light smile.

You looked at him. He had improved so much since you first took him in. His hair was cleaner, his skin had better creams, his lips were smeared in soothing lip balms and his allergies were nearly a thing of the past. The thought of the young, helpless boy you took in using his once destructive power for the better of society brought tears to your eyes.

“H-hey, don’t get all emotional ma! What’s the matter?!” He fussed, stopping when you smile at him.

“I’m so proud of you, Tenko. More than you’ll ever know. Now, go be the best hero that anyone has ever seen in UA!” You wiped your tears as you hugged your son, feeling him tremble slightly in return.

“Thanks ma. For everything.”

#tenko shimura #baby tenko #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura x reader #NO COS POOR BABY #FUCK HIS DAD FR FR #ALL MY HOMIES HATE KOTARO #shigaraki x reader #hic #sob #he deserves the entire world #my baby #I want to cuddle him so much #play with his hair and tell him he’s alright :(#tomura x reader #platonic tomura x reader #platonic tenko x reader

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tima7fa · 4 months

Text

Talk To Me

Gojo Satoru x Therapy

Contents: satoru being stupid, reader is a therapist, reader is sugurus sister, didn't adress it that much because my hands hurt and I'm lazy, mention of character death, I honestly don't think this is very romantic probably more platonic, I hate this actually for some reason, this is the longest shit I've written in a while

Note: Satoru doesn't know reader is sugurus sister because she has a different last name, and while she was studying at the same school suguru never knew he had an older sister reader knew she has a younger brother but she never approached him or said anything to him what she regrets the most

And do not attack me yall I don't know how therapy works okay? I've never been there even tho some people tell me I should go to therapy

"Suguru geto is dead."

Your hand froze, the pen you were holding punched a jagged hole through the paper, which became surrounded by a spreading pool of ink. You stared blankly at the damaged sheet, the room falling silent around you in a suffocating hush.

Your gaze slowly met the somber expression of the man seated across from you. "Why are you telling me this, Principal Yaga?" you asked, your voice laced with a veneer of mournful softness.

The man shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "He was your younger brother-"

"No," you interjected firmly, cutting him off. "I do not know such a man, so please do not speak of him to me here." The harshness in your tone was palpable as you released your grip on the pen, crumpling the ruined paper into an uneven ball and tossing it into the nearby wastebasket.

"You were always a terrible liar, you know," Yaga remarked, reaching a hand out to gently wipe the tears that had carved burning paths down your cheeks. "I would have believed you if your eyes weren't betraying so much grief."

"I'm not crying because of him," you protested desperately, though your futile attempts to stem the flow of tears proved fruitless.

"Child..." Yaga murmured, pulling you from your seat and enveloping you in a comforting embrace. You clung to him tightly, burying your face into the reassuring solidity of his chest as you surrendered to your sorrowful outpouring.

After some time, you finally managed to regain your composure. Yaga handed you a stack of files, and your eyes immediately fell upon a photograph of a white-haired man.

"There is someone I need you to help," the dark-haired man began. "Satoru Gojo." You uttered the name of the renowned child prodigy, staring at Yaga with a look of confusion.

"Satoru and Suguru were close friends, with a deep connection to one another..." Yaga trailed off, his expression heavy with concern. "The one who ended up killing Suguru... was Satoru himself. And he is not in a good mental state."

"I know I'm asking a great deal of you, to help the person who took your brother's life, but-"

"I'll help him," you interrupted, offering Yaga a weak, but resolute smile.

The man's eyes widened with surprise, but his gaze remained clouded with worry. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

You simply nodded in response, steeling your resolve to assist the one who had taken your beloved sibling from you.

___________________________________________

It's absolutely preposterous. No, wait - it's downright hilarious. Satoru Gojo, of all people, being forced into therapy? What a cruel twist of fate. He never wanted this, never needed this. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he's been strongarmed into it, all thanks to Principal Yaga's meddling.

Surely, this has to be some sort of twisted joke. But alas, he has no choice in the matter. It's either submit to this ludicrous therapy session or risk losing his teaching position - a job he cherishes, as it allows him to continue molding his students, pushing them to heights greater than even his own.

And so, here he sits, in this cozy little room, across from a woman armed with a pad and pen, scrutinizing him through his thick black shades. How is he, a sorcerer tasked with the mastery of curses, supposed to confide in this simple human about the intricacies of his life? She likely doesn't even have the faintest idea what "cursed energy" is, let alone the trials and tribulations he faces on a daily basis.

But he can't ignore the neatly maintained amount of cursed energy emerging from her.

Of course, he has no intention of revealing anything of substance. If he so much as mentions the nature of his work, she'd probably have him committed to a mental institution faster than he can blink.

"So what brings you here today, Mr. Gojo?" the woman asks, her voice dripping with false sweetness, a saccharine smile plastered across her face.

Satoru huffs heavily, the irritation seeping into his tone. "I'm not here by choice. Principal Yaga forced me to come here."

"I know," she responds, and Gojo raises a brow, surprised by her candor. "And I can see that this is your first time here."

"I'm asking you why do you think you're here," the therapist probes, her brows furrowing as Satoru satoru shifts in his seat, crossing his legs defiantly.

"Because I was forced to be here-" he begins, only to be swiftly interrupted.

"Why?" she presses, her tone infuriatingly calm and measured.

Satoru falls silent, staring at her blankly, his irritation palpable. This is supposed to be his time to vent, and yet she keeps interjecting, undermining his attempts at explanation. He already finds her immensely grating.

"Mr. Gojo?" the therapist gingerly tilts her head, awaiting his answer. Satoru sighs heavily, the frustration clear in his voice.

"Because Principal Yaga thinks I'm in desperate need of therapy," he spits through gritted teeth, the mere recollection of that argument making his blood boil.

"What about you? What do you think?" she probes further, her expression maddeningly serene.

"That all of this is stupid. I'm not in need of therapy - I'm perfectly fucking fine," satoru retorts, turning his head away to gaze out the window, where the rain has now begun to fall. He's the strongest sorcerer, for God's sake - he doesn't require aid from anyone.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't need it," she calmly asserts, and satoru can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his biceps through his clothes, crescent-shaped indentations surely imprinting his skin.

His gaze snaps back to her, a scowl etched upon his features. "The hell you mean?" he spits, his tone dripping with venom. "I just told you I was forced to be here. Why the hell don't you understand that?"

"If you were actually fine, Mr. Gojo, you wouldn't be here," the therapist repeats, her saccharine smile infuriating him to no end.

"Since it's your first time here, I'll explain to you how therapy works-" the therapist begins, only to be swiftly cut off by satoru's acerbic retort.

"I know how it works. I spill my guts out to you, you give me some useless advice, write some bullshit on your pad, diagnose that I'm somehow mentally ill - blah, blah, blah," he interjects mockingly, rolling his eyes with palpable annoyance.

The therapist pauses, staring at him for a moment before chuckling softly. "Therapists aren't actually supposed to give advice, as we know that it won't help our clients in any meaningful way or may even make them feel worse. So we avoid doing that. Rather than giving you advice, we guide you to see how your feelings, thoughts, choices, and actions affect one another. And we teach you about emotions, thoughts, coping skills, facing fears, and more."

Satoru scoffs in return, unimpressed. It doesn't matter to him what her job description entails. How the hell is he supposed to feel comfortable when he's paying a person to listen to him? She doesn't genuinely want to hear his problems (not that he has any, of course). And who knows, she'll probably gossip about the shit he says with her friends.

"Now, how about you start telling me about your day?" she inquires, switching the subject, having likely noticed his lingering irritation. Satoru scoffs, as though that were a mind-numbingly dull question.

"My day? Same as any other day," Satoru shrugs. "What do you want to know? The weather? I took a very interesting dump in the morning? Got myself some food, did whatever the hell teachers do - the usual."

The therapist sighs, seemingly ready to give up on that line of questioning, or perhaps regretting having asked it in the first place. Even so, she jots something down on her pad, and Satoru isn't sure if what he said was actually so worthy of being noted.

"Do you seriously have to take notes? What was so important in my answer to write down?" he questions, his tone mocking.

"Everything you say is important, Mr. Gojo," she replies with a hum.

"Really? Is it really that important that I took a dump this morning?" Satoru laughs derisively. Therapy is a joke, as far as he's concerned.

The therapist looks at him with those eerily calm eyes once more, her irritatingly artificial smile still plastered on her face. "You're a teacher - what did you teach your students today?"

What.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me what subjects I teach?" Satoru looked at her suspiciously, wondering if Yaga had somehow explained to her that he is a sorcerer.

"You're a jujutsu sorcerer. There's no need for me to ask what subjects you teach," she replied calmly.

Satoru leaned in, his elbow resting on his thigh as he held his chin in his palm. "You seem to know a lot about me, doc. Just who are you exactly?" A grin appeared on his face, as he considered the possibility that she might also be a sorcerer like him. Outside of the jujutsu domain, humans don't typically know who Gojo Satoru is.

"I'm your therapist," she simply replied, and his brow twitched slightly. "You know what I'm asking, miss."

"What do you think?" She tilted her head, smiling at him. Of course, she would turn the question back to him - it always has to be about his feelings and thoughts in therapy.

"You are a sorceress," he muttered, no longer doubting the amount of cursed energy he felt in the room. She must be a skilled sorceress, able to maintain her cursed energy at a small, unnoticed level surrounding her.

But why would Principal Yaga assign a sorceress to him? Was this some kind of trick? The woman before him is probably not even a real therapist. Still, he's never heard of her name before - perhaps she's a sorceress from another nation?

"Close. I was a sorceress," she revealed.

Satoru's brow furrowed. Why did she quit? And why did she become a therapist? Just who is she exactly?

"Now, why don't we get back on track?" she inquired, smoothly switching the subject and ending his train of thought.

The rest of the session was simply her attempting to get to know him better, or rather, analyze him. However, satoru did not give her that opportunity. Why should he? Yaga had only instructed him to attend therapy, not that it had to be effective. Honestly, satoru did not particularly care about this endeavor.

Why should he divulge information about himself to someone he barely even knows? Not to mention, she is being paid to listen to him - she is not doing this out of her own volition or good-hearted intentions.

She likely does not truly care about his problems (not that he has any, in his opinion). So why should his feelings and thoughts matter to her? She is merely performing her job, nothing more, nothing less.

Satoru has no intention of pouring his heart out to a complete stranger he knows little about. He understands that therapy is meant to provide him with a safe space to be vulnerable and open about everything. But he does not feel comfortable in this room.

___________________________________________

Satoru sighs, leaning his cheek against his fist as he relaxes in the chair in front of her.

"You worry too much," he says casually. "Why don't we ever talk about your feelings? We only ever talk about me."

Satoru is aware that she only wants the best for him. He simply does not care. He is here because it is mandatory, not because he wants to be. He does not believe he needs therapy, despite her claims otherwise. As his therapist, of course she would tell him he requires this treatment.

It has been a month since their therapy sessions began, and satoru has not been the least bit cooperative. The only aspect he has enjoyed is the freedom to freely criticize the higher-ups without anyone chastising him or telling him it is inappropriate.

She would always listen intently to every word that came out of his mouth, diligently noting things down in her little pad. Honestly, not even his own students gave him the same level of attention that she bestowed upon him. He couldn't help but appreciate the fact that his feelings mattered in this space, that what he said truly held significance. He liked that. And he couldn't deny that he enjoyed her undivided attention on him.

"Because I'm your therapist, and I'm supposed to listen to you. Not the other way around." She sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "How many times do we have to go through this conversation?" She looked utterly exhausted, and he almost felt a tinge of guilt for making this so difficult for her. Keyword: almost.

He knew that she was simply doing her job. But he didn't care - he would make her tired of him until she gave up on him.

Yet, at the same time, the thought of her giving up on him left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't really want that.

He shrugged, smirking. "As many times as you want to," he said, with his ever-present sense of humor. "I can keep dodging questions all day, if you like. I'm perfectly fine just existing in this room while you try to wrangle me into being vulnerable."

"However, I can't say the same about you, doctor." He taunted.

"I am not trying to make you vulnerable, I'm trying to help you understand your feelings and maybe find solutions for your problems, Mr. Gojo," she said calmly, as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her chair.

Satoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand dismissively as he slumped against the back of his chair. "Help me understand my problems. Solve them. Figure out why I am the way I am. Heard it all before."

He knew he had to be here, in therapy, every week. However, that didn't mean he had to be vulnerable or cooperate with all this touchy-feely stuff. He simply didn't like that kind of thing.

"What makes you the happiest, Mr. Gojo?" She began asking him again. Seriously, how many questions did she prepare for him every time? He couldn't deny that he didn't dislike the fact that she worked so hard, just for him.

Hm.

It was a question he had genuinely considered. What made him the happiest?

"Fighting," he said after a pause. He gave a casual shrug. "I enjoy fights. They're fun. And when they get hard, it makes me want to try even harder. So... I guess that's what makes me the happiest - winning a difficult fight."

"The rush of adrenaline makes me feel... I don't know, excited? You know," he muttered, finding it somewhat challenging to articulate.

She scribbled some more notes in her pad. "Is there any fight that made you especially happy?" she then asked, her gaze shifting back to him from her pad.

"Mhm," he hummed, a small smirk forming on his face. This was a fun question for him. "Well... there was the time I got to fight a special grade," he said, the smile widening as he recalled the memory. "And that time I beat Toji. That's a really good memory."

"I would've died. But he didn't use a cursed tool, and didn't cut my head off," he chuckled, as if it were something to be happy about. "You should've seen the look on his face when he saw me, the one he supposedly killed, still alive and kicking."

"But I can't say I'm not grateful to him. Because I got to finally learn how reverse cursed technique works," he said with a wide grin on his face, and she followed suit by taking more notes in her pad.

He noticed her actions and stared at her with an exaggerated eyebrow raise. "Go ahead, make your notes about me being a sadist and liking to inflict pain or something. Then go back and analyze it with all your other therapist friends."

"I already said this before, whatever happens in this room will stay in this room, Mr. Gojo," she replied. "So be not afraid to spill anything to me."

"Yeah, yeah," he smirked, amused.

"What's my diagnosis, doc?" He tilted his head, staring at her as she lifted her head up from her pad to meet his gaze. "I'm a very bad person, don't you think? I love the pain I inflict on curses, I love the way they fear me, the fear in their eyes makes me feel so fucking excited," he laughed loudly.

"And when their blood taints my skin and clothes, it's such a disgusting texture yet it makes me want to be covered more with their blood. It feels so fucking amazing," he stared at her, awaiting a visible reaction, but he was met with nothing but an empty smile and empty eyes.

He hates this. He hates her. She's just an empty shell.

"You're just as crazy as I am, doc. Aren't ya?"

___________________________________________

But before she could say anything, the session had already ended, and Satoru was quick on his feet to get out of there.

Satoru rolls his eyes at her words and sighs. He leans back into the chair and spreads his legs, getting comfortable.

"This is such a pain," he mutters. "Do we really have to talk today? There's nothing to discuss. I'm peachy keen."

"Mr. Gojo, I need you to be a little more cooperative," she uttered gently.

"Do you, now?" Satoru's tone was dry, like sandpaper, his expression unchanging. He tilted his head slightly to the side. He could tell she was running out of patience, but that didn't stop him from being intentionally difficult. In fact, it made it more fun for him. "Yes, it's for your own good."

Satoru chuckles a little bit. "Aaaand here's the old 'it's for your own good' trope again, huh?" He shook his head, feigning mock disappointment. "I thought we were done with that by now, honestly."

"I do think that you really need this," she said seriously. "Look, Mr. Gojo, you might show your playful and cheerful side to everyone around you, but that is only a way to make them feel safe around you. I don't know what it's like to be the strongest, but I know that it can get pretty lonely standing on your own on top."

"You make it sound like I'm unhappy or something," he replied, shaking his head again. "Is it really so crazy for you to think that I'm perfectly fine being by myself? That I prefer being alone?" A small smile appeared on his face again. "I'm not lonely, doctor. I get more attention than I want, actually."

"That's not it," she sighed, shaking her head. "I know you have friends, you're a pretty talkative person and also a person who's approachable." She gave him a small smile. "Still, being surrounded by people doesn't mean that you feel the warmth of comfort. You keep them around you but still hold a certain distance between you and them that you never let them cross. You never let people get too close to you, which is a problem because you're isolating yourself from the world even if you think you're doing the opposite."

His small smile faded, and he rolled his eyes as he began to look agitated. He sat up, leaning forward towards her, his elbows on his knees. "What's with the armchair psychology? Where are you even getting all of this? You don't know me. You can't just assume these kinds of things based on just a few therapy sessions."

"I'm sorry if this is making you uncomfortable, and please do correct me if I'm wrong. But there are a lot of people who feel lonely even while being surrounded by people," she sighed.

"Regrettably, I struggle to forge meaningful connections with others," he murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "They fail to comprehend me. They do not know the true me. They would be unable to accept me as I truly am, so I ceased exerting the effort. I stopped attempting to force something that was simply never going to materialize. Therefore, I shall keep everyone at a distance, for that is what they deserve. I do not grapple with the kinds of issues you presume I do, so desist in your efforts to analyze me."

She replied softly, "They are unaware of your authentic self because that is the outcome you desire, Mr. Gojo. If you are unwilling to be truthful about your personality and emotions with another individual, can you genuinely call that a connection? A relationship? It is all constructed upon walls of deception, intended to keep them at bay."

Satoru's response was tinged with bitterness. "So you are asserting that the fault lies with me for people's rejection, correct?" He leaned forward, his arms crossed defensively over his knees. A sardonic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I have made attempts to be honest with others. I have exerted the effort before, yet all I ever received in return was judgment and fear. I shall not place myself in that position again."

"The fault does not lie with you that they do not like you. However, the fault lies with you in presenting a false persona to them daily. Allow me to pose a question - from all the individuals surrounding you, can you name a single person who truly knows you?" she inquired.

Satoru's expression darkened at her words, the façade he maintained for others striking a chord. How could she discern this about him? It irritated him, albeit slightly. His gaze hardened with annoyance.

"No," he admitted in defeat. "I am surrounded by those I call friends, yet not a single soul among them truly knows me."

"Why not try opening up to them?" she suggested. "I will not ask you to confide in me, for I understand you do not particularly enjoy conversing with me, and that is perfectly acceptable. However, I am certain that at least one person would be willing to listen. Believe it or not, if they truly care for you, they will accept you with all your vulnerabilities and flaws."

A scoff escaped his lips at her proposal. "I'd rather not," he stated firmly. There was a sense of finality in his tone, and he was resolute in his decision. He had no desire to open up to anyone. That struck him as a waste of time.

"Even were I to open up to someone, there is a zero percent chance they would genuinely accept me for who I am. It is merely wishful thinking on your part, and you know it," he added.

"I would be truly delighted if you felt inclined to open up, Mr. Gojo. I sincerely implore you to believe me when I say I am fully attentive and receptive to whatever you wish to share," she sighed.

"Yeah, yeah..." he responded dismissively.

Satoru maintained his smirk, genuinely impressed by her unwavering conviction. He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin pensively. "Why are you being so uncharacteristically kind?" he inquired. "Most therapists I've encountered are arrogant, know-it-all types. You, on the other hand, seem far too amiable. I'm not entirely convinced."

His expression suddenly hardened as he leaned forward, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "You're deceiving me," he declared. "You must have some ulterior motive. Therapists do not pose those ostensibly benevolent questions out of pure kindness. You must be attempting to extract something from me - perhaps a salacious story to sell to the press, or you may have a reporter willing to pay handsomely for such information. Or, it could be that you are merely trying to bolster your own image, and I am the unfortunate individual you intend to 'utilize.' Well, let me inform you of something, my dear."

He seized the arms of her chair, pulling it forcefully towards him until their faces were mere inches apart. Satoru could hear the subtle hitch in her breath, a sign of her surprise at his sudden, assertive action. Maintaining unwavering eye contact, he leaned in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You should understand," he whispered, "that I am no stranger to individuals who believe they have me all figured out. So no matter how genuine you may seem, my dear, I am not so easily cracked." With that, he reclined back in his chair, releasing his grip on her seat. "You'll have to try something else."

For a moment, she remained silent, before letting out a soft sigh and offering him a gentle smile. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Gojo." Her words, rather than indignant, carried a sense of empathy.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise. He had expected her to refute his accusations, to insist that she harbored no ulterior motives. But instead, she had responded with gratitude for his candor.

He stared at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her facade of kindness to crumble. Yet, it never did. This woman, it seemed, was genuine in her compassion.

"If you feel uncomfortable in my presence, please do not hesitate to request a different therapist," she suggested, her tone measured and understanding. "I would be more than happy to make the necessary arrangements."

Satoru's expression darkened at her offer. "No," he said, his voice harsher than he had intended. He paused, taking a breath to regain his composure. "No, I want you," he stated firmly. "I'm cooperating, aren't I? If I wanted someone else, I would have requested a change long ago."

Satoru took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly at her gentle suggestion.

"You were more cooperative than before. And I appreciate that," she said, offering him a warm smile.

Satoru blinked in surprise. He had not expected such a genuine acknowledgment of his progress.

"So... what?" he asked, tilting his head as he considered her words. "You're saying you're proud of me?"

"I am. You're doing great," she hummed softly.

To both her and his own surprise, Satoru suddenly burst out laughing – a loud, unrestrained sound that filled the small space as he leaned back in his chair, clutching his stomach in an attempt to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he managed after a moment, taking a deep breath as he looked at her. "That... that just took me by surprise."

"No, please don't apologize," she quickly reassured him. "I must say, this is the most expressive I've seen you in this room." She chuckled lightly.

Satoru couldn't deny the truth in her words. His laughter finally subsiding, he smirked, crossing his arms. "Expressive? I guess if you count 'laughing like a maniac' as being expressive, I can agree."

He paused, a touch of amusement still in his tone. "I guess I'm improving, if I'm entertaining you."

"So, got something else to ask me, doc?" he inquired, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"Tell me, do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?" she asked, her gaze steady and her tone sincere.

Satoru's features twisted into an expression of annoyance at the question. "Of course I know who I am," he retorted, the defensiveness evident in his tone. "What is this, a therapy session?"

"I'm not asking you about the position you've been forced into, and definitely not the personality made up," she said, shaking her head. "I'm asking you – do you really know who you are?"

He let out a dry laugh, the irritation seeping through. "Who I really am? What kind of question is that? Are you seriously going to ask me to define my entire existence right now? Are you expecting me to have some groundbreaking revelation or something? Because I hate to break it to you, doctor, but I'm tired of all this self-reflecting nonsense."

"Tell me the first thing that comes to mind when you think about yourself," she sighed, her patience unwavering.

Satoru tilted his head back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He was doing this not because he genuinely wanted to, but to get her off his back.

After a few moments of contemplation, he responded, "The strongest. I'm unreachable, untouchable."

"If you ask someone else the same question," she trailed off, "what's the first thing that comes to mind when they think of Gojo Satoru? They'll reply with the same thing. But is it really what you want?"

He opened his eyes, looking at her with a furrowed brow. "What I want?" he said, his voice filled with disbelief. "What I want is for you to not ask me weird questions that have no point or answer. I'm perfectly fine with being unreachable and untouchable. That's how I's always been. It's the natural order of things."

"Is strength really what defines you?" she asked. He raised a brow. "What's your point?"

"Do you know who you are?"

"Tell me, will you be Gojo Satoru without your powers?"

This question - it struck a chord within him. He remembers the day Suguru left, and the question that had remained unanswered until now. He had chosen to ignore it, but now it was haunting him once more.

Without his powers? His powers had been such a central focus in his life; he'd never truly considered his life without them. He... didn't even know who he would be. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest of the strong. Take that away, and who was left?

He couldn't answer that. He simply remained silent, looking down at his hands, his grip tightening on his knees as he felt a sense of defensiveness.

But then, he stopped himself, his grip loosening as he looked at her, still frowning but with slightly less irritation in his expression.

"The therapy session is over," she said softly. "I want you to think about this question and try to find an answer to it."

Satoru let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, the session was finally over. Despite being overjoyed that he no longer had to continue, his expression darkened a little, his brow furrowing in thought. He knew he would be thinking about this, whether he wanted to or not. She didn't even have to ask.

He stood up from the chair and left the room without giving her a last glance. He heard her say something about how he should take care of himself.

The drive back to the Gojo Clan's compound was spent in relative silence. Ijichi kept a watchful eye on Satoru, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. His thoughts were consumed by the question posed to him during the therapy session.

As the car pulled up to the gates of the compound, Satoru suddenly spoke. "Ijichi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, "if I weren't the strongest, would I still be Gojo Satoru?"

Ijichi's gaze shifted to Satoru, surprise flickering across his features at the unexpected question.

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Your strength is a significant aspect of who you are, but it is not the essence of your identity." He watched Satoru for a moment, noting the expression on his face. "May I ask why you're asking this, Gojo?"

"Just something that I thought about," he said dismissively.

The rest of the evening was spent in a haze of thought for Satoru, tossing and turning in bed as he wrestled with his questions, doubts, and insecurities. They swirled in his mind, keeping him from finding respite. He had never felt so uncertain, so lost before. Who was he without the mantle of the strongest? What did he even have left?

He tried to shake off these thoughts, to push them to the back of his mind, but the questions persisted, gnawing at him like a relentless ache.

Gojo's thoughts returned to the question she had asked, "Do you know who you are?" He couldn't help but scowl at the recollection. He had taken offense to the question then, but now, alone with his thoughts in the quiet of the night, he found himself truly grappling with the magnitude of that question.

Who was he? This question had never posed a challenge before. He had always known who he was - the strongest. That had been his identity for as long as he could remember.

___________________________________________

The days that followed were restless, as her questions flooded his mind at all times - while teaching, on a mission, or at home. Her question occupied his mind constantly.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There was no point in lying here, unable to sleep. He needed air.

Satoru grabbed his jacket and threw it over his shoulders before quietly making his way out of the room, the floor creaking under his feet in the otherwise silent compound.

As he walked, the echoes of his footsteps reverberating down the hallway, he couldn't shake off the persistent questions that had been plaguing his mind all night.

He reached the entrance of the compound and stepped outside into the cool night air. The stars twinkled above him, a blanket of sparkling lights against the inky sky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet and the solitude.

But even in the silence of the night, the questions stayed with him, refusing to give him peace. He found himself facing an identity crisis that gnawed at him like never before.

Satoru walked, the snow crunching beneath every step his feet took. He walked with no destination in mind, hoping that maybe the movement and the fresh air would help clear his mind. Yet, no matter how far he walked, he couldn't escape the questions that haunted him.

Suddenly, the thought struck him - perhaps he needed guidance. But who could he turn to? His mind flitted through the people in his life - Nanamin, Ieiri, Ijichi, but ultimately he dismissed each one. They would never understand what he was going through.

But the thought persisted. He couldn't shake off the idea of her help. She had already managed to get under his skin, planting this seed of doubt that had grown into this existential crisis. Perhaps she was exactly the person he needed right now.

Satoru clenched his fists, silently cursing to himself. He had always prided himself on being in control, but now, here he was, considering seeking help from the very person who had caused his turmoil in the first place.

But it was late at night, would she even help him if he called her right now? Would she help him without getting paid, without being in that stuffy room?

As the dial tone rang through the line, anxiety began to creep into his mind. What if she didn't answer? What if she hung up once she realized it was him? He had never called her outside of their sessions before. Why would she answer now?

After what felt like an eternity, the line clicked open, breaking the silence. Satoru's heart pounded in his chest. She had actually answered.

"Hello? How may I help you?" Her voice was sleepy and confused at the late call.

Satoru hesitated for a moment, the sound of her tired, confused voice sending prickles of guilt through him. Should he really be doing this? But he had already come this far; he couldn't back down now.

"It's me," he finally said, his voice low and a little apologetic. "Gojo Satoru. I - I need help."

"Mr. Gojo?" She was suddenly wide awake, she didn't expect him of all people to call. "Of course, where are you right now?"

"I'm... I'm outside," he replied, a hint of shame in his voice. He didn't know how to explain where he was or what he was doing out so late. "I was walking. But I can't stop thinking about that question you asked me in the session that day. And it's driving me insane. I - I need answers."

"Can you be more specific? I'm on my way— ah, shit!" She cursed as she hit her foot with something she wasn't able to see in the dark, she quickly put on her jacket and her scarf and went downstairs.

Gojo heard the clatter and curse from her end of the line, making him flinch slightly. He felt oddly guilty for waking her and even making her come out at this late hour.

"Be more specific?" he repeated, his irritation seeping into his voice. "Isn't it enough that you threw my whole world off-balance? Now you need more specifics...?" But his tone softened as he mumbled, "I guess it'd be better if you were here."

"No. Where are you right now exactly?" She asked, putting her shoes on and finally going outside as it had begun snowing. She quickly got into her car.

Gojo huffed out a sigh, glancing around to get his bearings, "I'm about three miles north of Jujutsu High."

He was still outside the compound, which meant he had walked a considerable distance in his thoughts. The snowflakes were slowly falling from the sky, each one descending gently to the ground. Gojo stood there, watching them fall, waiting for her to arrive and, hopefully, provide some clarity to his chaotic thoughts.

"Okay, stay where you are. I'll be there in 10 minutes." She said as she started driving. "Tell me how you've been feeling today?"

Satoru rolled his eyes slightly as he heard her questioning. This woman just didn't know when to quit. But he was here for an answer, so he might as well satisfy her with some small talk beforehand.

"I've been feeling lost," he admitted after a moment, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Like everything I've ever known about myself has been turned upside down." He paused, a hint of resentment in his voice. "All because of what you said during the session."

"I see. It's good that you've thought about it, Mr. Gojo," she muttered softly.

"Is it?" he snapped. "Because right now, I feel like you've thrown my whole world off-balance. And for what? Because you wanted me to 'think about it'?" Satoru let out a bitter chuckle. "You're cruel, you know that? Or perhaps you just find pleasure in messing with my mind."

"A person needs to know themselves before trying to help themselves." She said. "You don't know who you are."

"And whose fault is that?" He muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. "I had this issue before, but I had somehow gotten rid of it. But now that you've planted this seed of doubt again, all I can think about is questioning who I am. It's maddening!"

He let out a bitter chuckle again. "Are you happy now, that I'm having this crisis?"

"Thank you for sharing your feelings." She said, as if trying to comfort him.

"Don't act so sweet, like you actually care about how I feel," he snapped. He was tired, irritated, and at the end of his rope. "You have no idea what this revelation is doing to me. My whole identity was built upon being the strongest. If you take that away, what's left of me? Who am I without that identity?"

She parked near Jujutsu High, getting outside of her car. "I do know what you're feeling right now, believe it or not I was in the same state that you were in." The snow crunched beneath her shoes as she started searching for him.

Satoru scoffed slightly, disbelief clear in his voice. "You know what it's like to have your entire identity shattered like this? Please. As if you could ever understand my struggle. I've dedicated my whole life, my very existence to be the strongest."

He shook his head, his expression a mix of bitterness and desperation. "But now, all I have are questions. Why am I here? Who am I, if not the strongest? It's like a never-ending abyss of uncertainty."

Here is the expanded version of the dialogue with more descriptive language:

She strode towards him, her eyes finally landing on his familiar form. "Turn around," she instructed gently.

Satoru's brow furrowed slightly, confusion etching across his features at her sudden command. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly pivoted to face her, his expression guarded, eyes wary.

"Where's your blindfold?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He blinked, surprised by her question. In the whirlwind of emotions, he had nearly forgotten about the blindfold when he left the compound. But what did his lack of the customary covering have to do with anything?

"I don't have it," he responded slowly, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't want you to have a headache." She spoke softly, aware of his unique situation - the six eyes that made him perceive the world differently, often leading to painful migraines. Reaching up, she untied her own scarf. "Here, put this on."

Satoru stared at her, a mix of surprise and wariness evident in his gaze. He was unaccustomed to anyone showing him such genuine concern. She had already managed to see through his carefully crafted bravado and delve into the depths of his mind, and now she was extending this empathy? It was unsettling.

Still, he hesitated for a moment, torn between his reluctance and the throbbing ache pulsing at his temples. Finally, he reached out and gently took the scarf from her outstretched hand.

Satoru carefully wrapped the soft fabric around his eyes, tying it securely in place. It felt unusual, a stark contrast to his familiar blindfold, yet it offered a surprising sense of relief. The gentle pressure against his eyes was soothing, and the plush material was a comforting contrast to the chill of the night air.

He took a shallow breath, feeling a slight easing of the headache. He couldn't deny the scarf was helping, but it felt peculiar to be seen and cared for in this way.

"I want you to think about the moments in your life that didn't involve your powers," she said gently, her words a gentle nudge.

Satoru's expression darkened slightly at her prompting. His life had always revolved around his abilities, especially after discovering the rarity of his Six Eyes.

But the thought did pose an intriguing question. He had never truly considered the times when he wasn't constantly using or contemplating his powers.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "What if there are no such moments?"

"Right now, right here. You aren't using your powers," she pointed out. "I'm sure there have been many instances in your life where your abilities weren't the primary focus - going out with your students, spending time with friends, studying, taking walks, even just everyday tasks like eating or running errands."

Satoru's frown deepened slightly as her words sank in. She was right. In that very moment, he wasn't relying on his Six Eyes to protect himself or perceive the world around him.

He couldn't deny the existence of those more mundane, seemingly insignificant moments in his life that didn't revolve around his powers. Simple joys like laughing with his students, or the solace he found in the company of his friends - times when his abilities weren't at the forefront of his mind.

"You're human, Mr. Gojo," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "So, please, don't treat yourself as if you're not. Your power is a part of your identity, but is it really everything about you? That's the question you need to ask yourself."

Satoru's breath caught slightly as her words sank in. He had spent so many years defining himself by his power, by his role as the strongest, that it was difficult to imagine there was anything else to him.

But she was correct. His abilities were a part of him, but they did not encompass his entire existence. He was more than just his powers. He was a jujutsu sorcerer, a teacher, a friend, a human with emotions and a complex inner world.

"Now let me ask you again," she trailed off. "Do you know who you are, Mr. Gojo?"

Satoru exhaled slowly, feeling a sense of clarity wash over him. He understood now what she was trying to convey. His identity was not solely tied to his powers. There was so much more to him than that.

He lifted his head, the scarf over his eyes lifting slightly. His voice was quiet but sure.

"I am Satoru Gojo. Jujutsu sorcerer. Teacher. Friend. Human. And so much more."

"Exactly." She chuckled. "I'm proud of you."

Satoru felt a flicker of something unfamiliar stir within him at her words. He had never heard someone express pride in him, at least not on an emotional level. Usually, it was about his prowess or his accomplishments in battle.

He gave a small snort, trying to downplay how her praise affected him. "You make me sound like a child, Miss Therapist," he muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh..sorry, I didn't mean to come across that way," She quickly apologized.

Satoru waved her apology away with a dismissive hand gesture. "No, no. I wasn't offended or anything like that," he reassured her. "It's just..a little surprising, that's all."

He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly. "People usually praise me for being the strongest, not for being...human. But it's not a bad feeling, to know that someone is proud of me as a person. So thank you."

"No. Thank you for being truthful with me, Mr. Gojo," She hummed softly.

A small chuckle escaped Gojo's lips, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You know, I'm not sure why you're thanking me for doing the bare minimum," he teased. "Being truthful should be expected, shouldn't it?"

"I'm thanking you because I know how difficult it is to be truthful about yourself with someone and to be truthful with yourself," She chuckled.

Satoru's smile widened slightly. Her words carried a sincerity that resonated deeply within him.

"You're right," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not easy. In fact, it's damn near impossible sometimes." He took a deep breath, letting out a small sigh.

"Being honest with yourself, and with others...it requires a certain level of vulnerability and courage, and frankly, I'm not always very good at it."

Here is the response with more detailed and descriptive wording:

"That's perfectly understandable, you are only human and thus not impervious to imperfections. We all have our flaws, fears, and moments of fallibility at times. But that is what makes us distinctly human, what sets us apart from the animal kingdom. We have the capacity to learn and grow from our mistakes, to confront and overcome our fears, and to refine our shortcomings. " She spoke softly, her voice tinged with a gentle empathy. "You should never forget that you are just as human as anyone else—" Her words were suddenly interrupted by a delicate sneeze.

Satoru flinched slightly as the unexpected sound pierced the crisp, cold night air. On some level, he was somewhat relieved that her soothing words had been cut short, as they had started to hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

"Bless you," he murmured, his tone a curious blend of playful teasing and genuine concern. "It seems the frigid weather has gotten the better of you."

"Sorry about that...I'm just not terribly well-suited for cold climates," she admitted, rubbing her hands together in a futile attempt to generate warmth.

Satoru couldn't resist the temptation of a mischievous smirk. Here he had been feeling vulnerable and exposed, and now the tables had turned, with her appearing to be the one struggling against the biting chill.

"That's not something one usually hears from someone who was living in the northern regions," he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to poke a bit of fun. "I thought the hardy folk up there were practically immune to the cold."

"Well, you see, I wasn't actually born and raised in these parts, i just lived some years there." she chuckled.

"Ah, I see," satoru nodded, a playful glint sparkling in his eyes. "So you're not a true northerner. That certainly explains a lot."

He paused for a moment, a mischievous thought crossing his mind. "But you'll never truly adapt if you don't embrace the cold," he declared dramatically. "And what better way to do that than by engaging in a good old-fashioned snowball fight?"

Without warning, she hurled a tightly packed snowball directly at him, the frozen projectile striking him with surprising force.

"You should be more careful!" She laughed as she scurried away.

Satoru was momentarily caught off-guard by her sudden attack. He blinked, stunned for a moment, before a wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh, it's on now," he declared, his eyes twinkling with competitive delight.

He swiftly leaned down, scooping up a handful of snow and shaping it into a compact, aerodynamic ball, before launching it towards her with remarkable precision.

"Agh!" She groaned as the snowball hit its mark, but her laughter quickly followed. "Cheater!"

Satoru chuckled, not holding back a hint of smug satisfaction. "Cheat? Perish the thought, my dear," he declared, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. "I'm merely making use of my natural talents."

He quickly formed another snowball, his movements quick and elegant, and with a flick of his wrist, he released it, aiming straight for her. "I am, after all, the reigning champion of snowball warfare," he boasted.

"Hey! Go easy on me!" She laughed again, retaliating with a well-aimed snowball of her own.

"Easy? What is this, a snowball fight for beginners?" Satoru teased, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He dodged her projectile with effortless grace, his steps light and fleeting like a shadow.

He swiftly countered with his own snowball, a perfect shot that struck its target, causing her to stumble slightly. "Come on, you can do better than that," he taunted, reveling in the adrenaline of their playful conflict.

"No fair!" She whined as she threw another snowball, this time finally hitting him squarely. "Ha!"

Satoru let out a theatrical groan, pretending to be wounded by her snowball. "Oh, the agony," he clutched at his heart dramatically, a grin betraying his amusement. "I've been hit! What a catastrophic defeat this is."

Not one to be outdone, he swiftly retaliated, launching a flurry of snowballs in her direction with deadly accuracy. "You can't stop the king of snowballs!"

She deftly dodged his barrage of snowballs, her movements agile and nimble. "The rightful queen of snowballs will reclaim her throne!" She chuckled as she threw another well-aimed projectile.

Satoru raised an eyebrow at her declaration, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, is that so? The rightful queen of snowballs, you claim to be?"

He evaded her snowball easily, his laughter echoing through the night. "Well, let's see how rightful you truly are!" He retaliated with a series of perfectly aimed snowballs, each one a testament to his skill and precision.

Some snowballs found their mark, but she quickly retreated behind the shelter of a nearby tree, emerging to launch her own volley of icy projectiles in his direction. "You're cheating!" She accused playfully.

Satoru laughed heartily, his eyes glinting with a competitive spark. "Cheating? Or simply better at this than you?" he teased.

He ducked, weaved, and dodged her snowballs with a casual ease that made it appear as though he were dancing rather than engaging in a fierce snowball battle. "Admit it, darling. I'm just naturally gifted at the art of snowy warfare!"

"Nuh uh!" She laughed, her voice filled with playful defiance as the relentless snowball fight continued.

As the intense battle of wits and wintry wonders wore on, their laughter filled the night air, echoing through the trees. Satoru's competitive spirit was fully ignited, and he wasn't holding back. His movements were swift and precise, each snowball hitting its mark with remarkable accuracy.

"Admit it, admit it!" he called out, his voice teeming with playful taunting. "You can't defeat the Snowball King!"

"The queen will reclaim her rightful place!" She said playfully as she suddenly ran up to him and tackled him, sending them both tumbling into the soft, powdery snow. "The king has fallen!" She laughed triumphantly.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise as he felt himself falling, his balance thrown off by her unexpected attack. He landed on his back with a thump, sinking slightly into the snow, a look of mock indignation on his face.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, queen?" he chuckled, his tone filled with playful defiance. "You really think you can take down the king with a sneak attack like that?"

"Yeah!" She laughed as she straddled him, triumphantly launching a handful of snow directly into his face. "Payback!"

Satoru sputtered and spluttered as the cold, powdery snow landed on his face, momentarily obscuring his vision. But the unexpected sensation of her sitting atop him, coupled with the icy touch of the snow, sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.

He blinked, his eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle as he grinned up at her. "Oh, you think that's payback? That won't do. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."

And in a sudden, swift motion, he flipped them over, now pinning her down to the snow, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. He took a handful of the icy powder and gently placed it in her mouth before she could react. "How does snow taste, my queen?"

She quickly spat out the snow, coughing and sputtering, but he merely laughed in response as he collapsed down beside her, both of them lying in the snow, their breathing heavy from the exertion of their playful battle.

After a moment of catching their breath, satoru turned his head towards her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, a result of the cold. He couldn't help but find her endearing in that moment.

"I would like to know more about you, miss therapist," Satoru murmured, his curiosity piqued. She was silent for a moment, contemplating his request. "What would you like to know?"

"I don't know... perhaps you could start by telling me why you decided to quit being a sorcerer?" Satoru's expression sobered slightly.

She paused for a moment before speaking. "I was previously involved in a perilous mission and perished back then, but I still clung desperately to life. So I made a binding vow, offering my cursed technique in exchange for the preservation of my life, I suppose." She shrugged, as if the matter was trivial. "I'm sorry to hear about your experience," I responded sympathetically.

"It's alright, the practice of sorcery simply was not meant for me. Instead, I have decided to become a therapist, helping people who are part of the jujutsu community, as I understand the daily realities they face as sorcerers."

He hummed thoughtfully as he looked back up at the sky. "That explains why I have never heard of you before," he mused. "Do you have any surviving family members?" he inquired.

"They have all passed away," she replied solemnly.

"I see," he said quietly.

"I apologize for-" he began.

"No need to apologize," she assured him. "I understand your curiosity."

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