#it is actually still angst with multiple character deaths

[reviiely]

I just finished my bio assignment and now you all shall be subjected to its utter bullshittery in all of its glory.

Music credit to: Yuh Baek I found this music on yt :p

[mononijikayu]

the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

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

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

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

WORD COUNT: 11k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now, it was your turn.

  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[starlazergazer]

Separated

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: You could do a story where the reader and Anakin had something, but the order tried everything to separate them, and so Anakin wasn't there when she ended up dying. That will be the trigger for him to start doubting the order, and hating them, but it turns out that a reader from another universe, who is exactly the same as his, just shows up.

Warning: Angst! Almost character death, lots of swearing tbh my bad

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Changed the request just a bit hope that’s okay but obsessed with the overall premise! I’m thinking she needs a part 2 but let me know what y’all think!

There was something uniquely terrifying about a silent Anakin Skywalker.

Everyone knew the jedi had a temper, it wasn’t something he was necessarily subtle about, there were few who had been at one time or another on the other end of it, you included.

But Anakin’s temper always exposed itself in the same way. Yelling, pacing, ranting. There were a number of times you had sat down before him waiting for him to get his lecture out of the way, letting him explode like a volcano before being able to actually have a constructive conversation with him.

You honestly couldn’t think of the last time you had seen him as he was now. Quiet, still, contemplative.

Admittedly there was a part of you that wanted to poke the bear, to say something that you knew would make him explode, force him back into charted territory so you knew how to deal with the fallout.

“I just don’t see the big deal”

Still nothing, a harsh glare boring down on you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched so harshly you could see the muscle through his skin, not a word.

“You do stuff like that all the time”

Just the steady rise and fall of his chest as he took measured, deep breaths.

You were returning home a hero, the entire hanger had cheered for you the moment you touched down, a hoard of people circling you with congratulatory hugs the second your foot touched solid ground, and still somehow Anakin had the power to make you feel like you’d failed.

This was supposed to be your moment and still somehow Anakin controlled the temperature in the room.

“I told you to turn back”

You’d stopped expecting him to speak, so thrown off by the sudden change you physically jumped at the sound of his voice, at how unexpectedly quiet it was.

“That was the wrong call and you know it”

Anakin took a deep breath at your response, his gaze cutting suddenly to the left, a moment passing as he collected himself before responding, that act alone almost making you faulter.

“If it was the wrong call I wouldn’t have made it. I told you to turn back”

“And you aren’t my reporting officer”

“This isn’t a game Y/N!”

The sudden explosion from the man would have surprised you if you hadn’t been unconsciously waiting for it, coiled like a spring waiting for Anakin to snap, waiting for him to yell, a weird weight lifting off your chest as you returned to normalcy.

“I know this isn’t a game do you?” You shot back quickly, just as loudly “He had coordinates, locations of nearly every battalion in the galaxy, information like that isn’t simply a pawn you can choose to trade away”

“Neither are you”

The response came too quickly, too quietly, too seriously for you to fully comprehend the words as he said them, your body physically recoiling at the sudden drop in temperature.

“I was fine”

“You were within firing range” he argued back, his hands coming down to rest on his hips as he glared at you “an entire separatist fleet was on the other side of that moon waiting for him to drag whatever republic ships he could towards them so they could shoot it down and you fell right into that trap”

“I didn’t have a choice”

“You had multiple” he shut you down without ever raising his voice, a single glare enough to silence you “listening to me for one of them”

“And if you had been in my shoes” you prompted “if you had been close enough to chase him would you have simply let him get away?”

“I would have-“ you scoffed before he could get the words out, seeing exactly where he was going before he got there.

“don’t lie to me Anakin Skywalker you treat risking your life as if it were a paying job”

You watched his jaw tick at your response, his words dying on his lips before he changed routs “I told you to turn back”

You let a humorless laugh bubble out of you, a frustrated hand raking across your face as you shook your head “I can’t believe you’re being so blatantly hypocritical right now”

“It’s different” his words came out so quick he seemed almost surprised to hear them himself.

“How?” you demanded more than asked, silently daring him to give you a legitimate answer you weren’t sure he could supply.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off before he could finish, a huff escaping before he took a deep breath and continued “I need you to listen to me. When I tell you what to do I need you to listen to me”

“Even if-“

“yes” he cut you off before you could get your question off ���whatever context, whatever quantifiers I don’t care. Out there I need you to listen to me”

Again his tone was throwing you for a loop. Gone was the anger, the frustration, the ire. Now he seemed to be almost begging, pleading with you to listen to him, to agree, to promise something like today wouldn’t happen again.

But you had made the right call. That was what was sticking with you. You know what you did was risky, hell you could get behind even calling it a little reckless, but objectively it was the right call. You were talking about locations of every troop of clones in the republic in the hands of the separatist’s how could he not see that this was worth anything, that taking down this spy was worth everything.

“Ani what-“

“There you two are” a new voice interrupted you, the sudden appearance of Obi-wan pulling you back to the present moment, reminding you that you and Anakin were in the jedi temple, that you had just come back from a mission, that you still had duties to uphold.

“Master Kenobi” you quickly greeted the man with a small bow, watching the man you had practically grown up under break out into a proud grin as he clapped you on the shoulder.

“That was a great shot Y/N” he praised you shaking you softly “you saved the Republic today I hope you know that”

And though you could feel your chest warm with the praise you couldn’t help but feel a small twinge because of it, not missing Anakin’s small scoff at Obi-wan’s words.

Anakin was your best friend, a man you grew up beside as a padawan, a man you had been practice dueling since you could hold a saber, and you had just pulled off a major victory for the Republic. Was it really too much to ask that your friend take just a second to be proud of you.

“Thank you master” you responded warmly nonetheless nodding at him “believe me when I say it wasn’t easy”

The older man laughed warmly at your words, dropping his hand from your shoulder as he did “that I don’t doubt but believe me when I say we are all glad your maneuver paid off, what you pulled was risky”

You shot a guilty glance at Anakin only to see the man casting his gaze at the floor, arms snaked back around his chest physically distancing himself from the two of you in this moment.

“Anyways what I came here to say is that the council is looking for the two of you” Obi-wan continued on, either choosing to ignore or missing the tension hanging in the air between you and Anakin “you need to debrief before you’re free for the evening.”

“Of course master” you answered for the two of you “we will be right there”

Obi-wan gave you an appreciative nod before taking his leave, casting a questioning glance at his former padawan before exiting the room, casting you and Anakin in a thick silence you were tentative to break.

“Ani-“ you tried but he cut you off.

“Look we’ll talk later” he muttered over his shoulder, already making his way out of the room “we shouldn’t keep them waiting”

-

You could never feel comfortable in the jedi council room, something you were sure was done by design as you and Anakin were forced into the middle of the room, made the literal center of attention.

Even as you knew you were here to receive praise for your actions you couldn’t help but shrink beneath Mace Windu’s gaze.

“-you exemplified what it means to be a jedi knight perfectly today jedi Y/L/N” Master Windu droned on, his voice thankfully lacking the usual edge it had when addressing you with Anakin in the room “we thank you for your actions today”

“I was just doing my job” you responded humbly as you were expected to with a respectful nod “but I am glad to have been of help”

“Of great help you were” Master Kloon chimed in pulling your attention to him as he spoke “the republic owes you a great debt today”

You smiled politely at Mater Kloon, gaze again being drawn across the room as Master Fisto picked up where Kloon left off, a part of you wondering if they did this on purpose to disorient you “we do however have one question regarding this situation. Jedi Skywalker you tried to order Jedi Y/L/N back”

“I did” Anakin’s response was quick with an edge to his voice that had you mentally sighing, you weren’t eager to witness Anakin go up against the council today. “The spy’s ship had reached firing range of the rest of the battalion anyone who followed him was likely to be shot before they could reach”

“Called her back before she reached firing range you did” Master Yoda spoke this time, eyes planted solely on Anakin as he spoke

“She was far back from the spy’s ship, by the time she reached him they would both be within firing range” Anakin countered through gritted teeth, you watched him ball his fists at his sides from the corner of your eye.

“That ultimately however proved not to be the case as she was able to take down the spy without any harm coming to her own fighter” Mace Windu spoke carefully, clearly organizing a path down which he planned to steer this conversation.

A tense silence passed for a moment, a staring contest passing between the Jedi master and the general before Anakin spoke “a miscalculation on my part then”

“It’s a good thing she ignored your miscalculation then” Master Windu offered dryly “we do however have access to the flight com logs. Would you like to explain jedi Skywalker why you ordered jedi Y/L/N not once but five times to turn back”

“Her pursuing as she did was a risk I wasn’t willing to make at the time master”

“Even when aware of the information that ship contained” Master Windu prompted with a raised brow “every troop location of the Republics army. Are you saying you weren’t wiling to risk the life of one jedi for the fate of this war Jedi Skywalker?”

“I don’t trade in lives Master” Anakin challenged back quickly.

“One life versus the lives of billions across the galaxy the math should be easy Jedi”

“we’re here to be Jedi knights not martyrs”

“And it is your duty as jedi knights to do whatever it takes to protect the republic as Jedi Y/L/N did”

“And if she had failed? If the inevitable had happened and she was fired upon the second she came within distance? What good would a dead Jedi knight have done anyone” Anakin was seething at this point, the familiar white hot anger you had expected to be directed at you earlier finally making its appearance.

“We can stop pretending this is about just any Jedi Knight” Mace Windu’s words had Anakin physically recoiling, effectively throwing him off course having the two of you furrowing your brows “there is a reason the jedi code forbids attachments”

“Master we haven’t formed an attachment” you took this as your chance to chime in, keeping your voice light trying to dispel any lingering tension in the air.

Master Windu’s eyes took a second too long to break from Anakin’s to meet yours, a knowing silence permeating the air as if he meant to let your comment hang in it “what happened today, any possibility of letting that spy go, cannot happen again”

You furrowed your brow at his vague response, eyes snapping back to master Yoda as he spoke up.

“not a punishment this is” he chimed in softly, looking directly at you as he did so “remember that you must”

Your eyes snapped back to Master Windu “master what are you saying?”

Mace Windu’s eyes bounced back and forth between you and Anakin for a moment before landing on the latter, another small silence stretching before he spoke “Jedi Skywalker and Y/L/N going forward are forbidden from going on missions together”

A stunned silence fell over you and Anakin, your eyes casting immediately to him only to see his disbelieving gaze locked on Mace Windu “Master you can’t-“ gone was all edge in Anakin’s tone, an almost pleading one taking its place as he tried to talk.

“The council’s decision on this is final” Master Windu cut Anakin off with a single raised hand.

“but-“

“You are dismissed jedi” The doors to the council room opened behind you before Anakin could get out any more than a word. Master Windu leaving no room for either of you to plead your case.

Numbly you left the room with Anakin in tow, your brain still struggling to wrap itself around what had just occurred as you entered the hallway and stopped against the wall, Anakin not missing a beat as he started to pace back and forth in front of you.

“You have to tell me where you’re going next I’ll see if I can at least be close” he was already talking a mile a minute, almost mumbling as if talking to himself rather than you.

“I can’t even remember the last mission I did without you” you mused quietly.

“Under no circumstances can you go alone either take Obi-wan or I’ll give you Rex”

“I can’t believe the council thinks we need to be separated”

“And call me every day even if it’s just to check in”

“Ani you know I can handle myself right” Your sudden direct address of him brought Anakin’s attention back to you, his pacing halting as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“After today?” He laughed bitterly in response.

“I came back today” you countered defensively, at this point beyond tired of this same argument “not a scratch on my ship I am alive and well”

“And you almost weren’t” finally Anakin exploded on you, vein popping in his neck as he yelled, a frustrated hand tangling itself in his hair as his pacing picked up once again “you got lucky. That’s it. What you did was dangerous, it was stupid, it was risky, and it only paid off because you got lucky and I feel like I’m going insane because how can no one see that? You are only here right now because you got lucky and there is no guarantee on that a second time”

“Or I’m a good pilot” you shot back angrily “I’m a good pilot and a good jedi who trusted her instincts and accomplished the goal. Is it really that hard for you to trust in my ability?”

Anakin physically deflated at your words, the full meaning of his own hitting him for the first time as he crumpled slightly “Y/N I didn’t mean-”

“No that’s just what you said” you cut him off “I get it you think I can’t handle myself and shouldn’t be trusted. I’m not sure why you’d want to be sent out on missions with me anyways”

“Y/N please” Anakin begged softly but you had had enough, cutting him off with a shake of your head and a sigh.

“No Ani I’m done with whatever is happening right now. It’s been a long day and I’m just-“ You cut yourself off with a deep sigh, taking a second to take a deep breath before turning on your heel leaving Anakin behind as you made your way back to your room, calling softly over your shoulder “I’m done”

-

You knew who was behind your door before he had even knocked. Could feel him lurking behind it. Afterall who else would be at your room this late at night.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened, Anakin just showing up at your room. Sometimes it was to apologize, sometimes it was because he had a nightmare, sometimes it was because he could sense yours. It didn’t matter really because he knew no matter what he was always welcome here, you made sure of that.

It was why he wasn’t surprised when you opened the door before he could officially make himself known. The two of you looking silently at one another before Anakin wordlessly engulfed you in a hug.

You went willingly, melting into him as he wrapped his arms around you, not even bothering to exit the doorway as the two of you stood there and took a second to appreciate the feeling of being supported by the other person.

“You scared me today” the words were mumbled into your hair.

“It was a risk I had to take” you responded softly into his chest, his arms tightening around you at your words.

“I can’t-“ he cut himself off, readjusting slightly to tuck your head under his chin before he spoke again “I don’t like it when you do that”

“And you think I like it when you do” you responded with a laugh, pulling back slightly to look up at him, Anakin reluctantly letting his grasp of you go as you did so.

“I know I just-“ he sighed “I’m sorry Y/N”

“I know Ani”

Finally a comfortable silence fell over the two of you, a moment passing where neither of you said a thing simply enjoying the moment in each others presence before Anakin broke it “I mean it when I say I trust you just please, promise me you’ll be careful”

You smiled softly up at your friend, extending a pinky out to him “I promise Ani”

He smiled and hooked his pinky with yours, neither of you able in this moment to recognizing your lie for what it was.

-

He almost hadn’t answered.

That was the thought that ruminated in his head for weeks after.

You had called, it wasn’t your normal time to talk, and Anakin had almost ignored it, almost told himself he would call you back later.

Thank the maker he was never good at ignoring you.

Your face came up immediately on his hollow display, picture posed strategically to only show your shoulders and above. And even though a smile graced your lips the second he picked up Anakin could still feel it the moment he saw you. Like a punch to the gut, it suddenly hit him that something was wrong. Something was catastrophically wrong. How had he not sensed it earlier?

“Where are you?”

You had just chuckled weakly in response and any other time Anakin lived for that sound but not now, right now he needed you to answer “there’s nothing getting past you is there Ani”

“You were sent to the outer rim right” Anakin steam rolled ahead, grabbing his cloak already intending to hijack the next available ship. He didn’t care if Mace Windu himself was scheduled to be on it.

“That was two missions ago”

Your words halted him in place, Anakin freezing on the spot as he glared back at you, “Y/N”

“Anakin” Maker how could you tease him like this now? You were always stubborn and he loved that about you but right now was not the time to play with his emotions, not with all this at stake.

“I’ll go ask Obi-wan” he was talking more to himself than you at this point, mind whirling with every possible path forward.

He heard you sigh from the communicator but didn’t pay it too much mind, you could yell at him for it later, he would give anything to hear you yell at him later.

“It’s a direct shot to my abdomen” You sucked in a deep breath, gaze dropping to your torso with a grimace, looking at something Anakin couldn’t see “losing blood like this there’s no way you make it in time”

“You don’t know that” he was arguing back before he could properly process your words, his brain refusing to even allow for that possibility.

“I do Ani” you shot him a sad smile, bleeding out, in who knows where and still you were comforting him.

“No there’s got to be someone nearby, another jedi, a local, someone who can help” He was shaking his head, brain desperately clinging to any solution it could.

“I didn’t call you so you could try and solve my problems”

“So why did you call me then?” He knew he wasn’t mad at you, he knew you would know that to, but still he cringed at the way it slipped out, at the way you shoulders slumped slightly at his words.

“Do I ever need a reason to talk to you?”

And he realized then this was you asking for the only help he could give. He was planets away with no ability to reach you and you were asking not to be alone at the end. And even though it killed him he could never say no to you.

“Of course you don’t Y/N”

You smiled at that. A real smile, no undercurrent of pain or pity. Anakin found himself trying desperately to commit to the sight to memory.

“Remember when the council separated us because they thought we had formed an attachment?” You asked softly, head resting back against the wall behind you, your entire body rising and falling with each labored breath.

“Right now it’s hard to forget” he bit down the resentment, it wasn’t what you deserved.

Still you chuckled at him, wincing slightly as you did so “I think right now I have to admit they were onto something”

“I thought that was obvious when I tried to put the entire republic army at risk so that you would be safe”

A teasing roll of your eyes, a fond chuckle “shut up stupid I’m trying to have a moment here”

“I’m sorry please go ahead with your moment” a part of him resented how easy the banter came now, how easy it always came with you, it wasn’t fair.

“You’re my person Anakin” you practically whispered the words, Anakin’s heart swelling painfully in his chest at them “At the end of the day I will always choose you and for the first time I’m not going to condemn myself for thinking it”

“You picked a hell of a time for that revelation sweetheart” the pet name came naturally, he nearly choked on it as it fell from his lips.

You laughed in response, shifting positions with a grunt “Master Kloon did always tell me I needed to work on my timing”

Anakin chimed in before a silence could fully settle over the two of you, “Though I’m sure it’s obvious I will always choose you too Y/N” he took a small amount of pride in the soft smile that grew on your lips at his words.

“So what do you say after the war we leave the order?” You propositioned with a cheesy grin “You and me Skywalker”

It hurt how easily the answer came to him “where would we go?”

“I’ve always liked Naboo” How quickly your answer came made him wonder if like him this wasn’t the first time you had considered this exact scenario.

“I could get a job working on speeders” He proposed with a sad smile.

“I think I’d work at a cantina” you mused back “always thought it would be fun to get to meet people from all over the galaxy”

“It would be a good life” he could feel the truth of those words in his very bones.

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, both lost in thoughts of what if, before you broke it “Thank you Ani”

“Don’t thank me” he protested weakly “not for this”

“Then for everything else”

Another short silence, a quiet plea slipping unbidden from Anakin “please don’t” he knew where you were going next.

“I have to” you answered softly, solemnly “I think it’s time to say goodbye”

“You don’t have to hang up” he protested “not yet”

“I don’t want you to see me like that” And again he was never one to refuse you anything, a final request he couldn’t say no to. “I love you Ani”

Maker how could hearing those words somehow hurt worse than not hearing them ever did.

“I love you Y/N”

A single tear slipped down your cheek and then you were gone. The newfound silence of the room suffocating him as the emptiness in his chest leached out to fill the space in the room around him.

-

The republic has fallen.

The jedi are no more.

The empire reigns in its place.

Anakin Skywalker is dead.

There was a lot you were told upon waking up from your medically induced coma that was hard to believe. A lot of news that was broken to you that was difficult to swallow. The fact that your entire life fell apart in the mere two weeks you were in a bacta tank was something you weren’t sure you were ever going to be able to come to terms with.

Being with the rebellion helped, to know that despite everything there was still a group of people out there who were willing to put everything on the line for what was right. To a certain extent it felt like being home. It helped you learn to come to terms with those four impossible facts.

So now how were you supposed to deal with learning that one of those facts was actually a lie.

You had seen the trepidation on their faces when you walked into the room, the way the entire groups focus was on you the second you stepped in, it almost felt like being back before the council, you would’ve laughed if they hadn’t seemed so somber.

Now you understand why.

As soon as the words left Mon Mothma’s mouth you felt the ground buckle beneath your feet, felt the world around you start to drown out, felt your legs threaten to give out from beneath you.

You would’ve given anything to hear those words just weeks ago, would’ve wept at the thought of being where you were now, but to hear them so shortly after you had tried to heal the wound was nothing but another devastating blow.

“You told me he was dead”

The group shared nervous looks and your every doubt about the rebellion came rushing to the surface. They were no different than the council at it’s worst, wiling to do anything to separate the two of you, willing to lie to make sure you stayed under their thumb, willing to keep things from you because they believed they knew better. Why did it always feel like you were working for the wrong side?

“We believed he was”

“Bullshit” the word slipped from your lips before your gaze could even meet the speaker���s, anger flaring from your chest at the words “a fact like that, as large of that, there had to be rumors, you had to have guessed”

“We didn’t want to get your hopes up”

A bitter laugh rose to the surface, hands coming to your hair in exasperation “I was told the very republic I gave my life for had fallen, that the very group I was fighting against are now in control, and everyone I had ever known dead at the very hands of the people I had sworn to lead and you didn’t think I could’ve used a little hope?”

“We thought-“

“That wasn’t your decision to make” you countered before they could finish, eyes daring the group to say something “maker how can you not see that it was this very hubris that led to the fall of the jedi? Of the republic? Just because you think you know better-“

“He goes by Darth Vader” a new voice jumped in, your eyes snapping to the holo-projection of Bail Organa, the senator’s eyes giving nothing away but pity.

“no-“ the protest fizzled on your lips, barely enough breath behind it to properly get it out.

“The source is solid” it was Mon Mothma again, eyes practically begging you to listen. “Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader”

And for a second your brain couldn’t comprehend it, wouldn’t comprehend it. How were you supposed to reconcile these two opposite people as one? “No that doesn’t make any sense”

“I’m sorry Y/N”

“No” you protested loudly, as if yelling could get it to not be true, could get them to admit they were lying, this this was all some sick joke “Someone is wrong, someone is lying to you-“

“The information is good” another voice interrupted but you were too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even identify who it was.

“No the Anakin Skywalker I knew wouldn’t-“

“The Anakin Skywalker you knew died the day that you did” Senator Organa cut through all the noise in your head, his voice loud but not unkind as he drew your attention, the entire world seeming to fall deathly silent after those words.

“What does that mean” your voice was quiet, broken, you didn’t have it in you to care.

“It was an open secret” he explained softly, the senator façade breaking just slightly “the day you were reported to have died Anakin fought with the Jedi council, fought with Obi-wan, no one could get him to calm down, to think rationally. Eventually he made his way to Palpatine’s office, he hasn’t been seen since”

“We all knew of his distaste for the council before this” Mon Mothma chimed in “he blamed them for your death, drove him right into the arms of the current emperor”

Your mind had slowed, had calmed noticeably but still you found yourself dancing around the issue rather than actually dealing with it, your thoughts instead deciding suddenly to stick to something else.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You watched them all carefully, noticing the nervous glances they sent towards one another rather than answer “I wasn’t lying when I said you were just like the former council, preferring to sit on information until it could properly serve your purpose so what’s the purpose this time?”

Again Mon Mothma took the lead, hesitantly speaking up “he’s formed a group with the sole purpose of hunting down and killing any remaining jedi. It’s quite frankly only a matter of time before he finds you”

You furrowed your brow at this “so you’re warning me? Telling me I need to leave the base?” you shook your head slightly, not liking how either of those answers fit before it finally clicked “you want me to stop him”

“We want you to talk to him” Senator Organa corrected you “if there’s anyone who can get through to that man it’s you”

You eyed each of them skeptically, knowing as you were sure they did as well, that this question only truly had one answer “I’ve been told twice in this conversation alone that Anakin Skwalker is dead.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself on the back of a chair “for all of our sakes I hope that’s not true”

-

Realistically you knew it was true the minute your ship touched down. Even if you weren’t conscious of it at the time you could feel that all too familiar force signature coming from the planet, seeping into your very bones.

To know it logically was an entirely different story.

You stayed hidden, following from alleyways and rooftops, you couldn’t make out the man beneath the costume but everything about him was just wrong. His gait was wrong, the way he held himself was wrong, the red saber at his hip was wrong, there was no possible way the man beneath the mask was that familiar jedi. And yet…

You couldn’t face him. You knew that. Even if it was Anakin under there you weren’t ready to find out, weren’t sure which answer would be more devastating to you.

So even though it meant failure you put your hood on and slunk away, leaving behind Darth Vader whoever he was, ready to tell the rebellion they would have to come up with another way.

You got little more than a flutter of a cape in warning before he descended upon you.

The black figure whipped around the corner faster than your brain could comprehend, having time to do little more than simply freeze in place before you were lifted off the ground by a force you were all too familiar with, invisible fingers tightening around your neck as you were lifted.

“You’ve been following-“ you got little of the figures voice through the mask before he suddenly cut himself off, the pressure on your neck easing just enough to allow you to gasp for breath, the world stilling around you as you looked out from under your hood at what was supposedly Anakin Skywalker.

The world stood at a standstill for a moment, you hovering inches above the ground, toes desperately seeking purchase, Darth Vader silently staring at you, hand held before him almost trembling. You were working yourself up to croaking out a question when his other hand raised suddenly and with a flick of his wrist your hood went flying back.

The second the light hit your eyes the force on your neck disappeared and you crumbled to the ground below in a heap.

Precious few seconds were given for you to gulp down breath before you were hauled back up by your neck again, this time an actual hand secured firmly around it as you were all but thrown against the wall, your head smacking against the brick painfully.

“who are you” even through the voice modulation you could hear the way he seethed beneath the helmet, ire barely contained by the black material.

“Y/N” you croaked weakly, clawing half-heartedly at the hand around your neck that held you in place.

His fingers tightened in response before he pulled you back and slammed your head once again against the wall, a soft groan escaping you at the impact “now is not the time for games now who are you”

“I’m telling the truth” you practically begged, unable to feel any shame in it as the edges of your vision started to black from lack of air.

“That’s impossible-“ you couldn’t really bring yourself to listen to the rest of the sentence, the only thing running through your mind was a grim acceptance that this was how you would die. Supposedly at the hands of the man you had once loved.

“Ani please”

And you hadn’t meant for the plea to escape you, barely even registered that the nickname passed through your lips. All you could focus on was the fact that after they came out into the open you had finally been released.

Again you crashed to the ground, hands splayed out to catch yourself before you could faceplant, lungs burning as you greedily gulped down air.

“Why would you-“ The words died in his throat and a strange, bitter part of you wanted to laugh.

Once you finally had better control of your breathing you sat back on your heels and looked up at the man clad in black before you, squinting slightly at the sun over his shoulder. “It’s true then”

He didn’t respond, simply looked down at you.

“take off your helmet”

“who do you think you are-“ again the urge to laugh surfaced, the way he reached for anger so readily was so similar to the man you once knew, how could you not have seen it earlier.

“Take off the helmet” He physically recoiled at the command. You softened your voice in response, practically pleading with him "I need to see your face"

Again the man before you went rigid, a tense few seconds passing in silence before he hesitantly reached up and pulled off the helmet.

The man standing before you looked somehow older than you remembered but unmistakably him, and every thought about your mission flew out the window the second his eyes made contact with your own. Your brain rejected the similarities outright, because despite being told Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker were one in the same you still couldn’t handle this physical evidence linking the two.

You reacted without thinking, taking a single step forward and planting your hands on his chest, roughly shoving him backwards, Anakin allowing himself to be moved without a second thought “Maker Ani what the fuck were you thinking”

His helmet slipped from his grasp absentmindedly, his hand coming up to clutch at his chest where your hands had just been as he just stared at you, eyes swirling with too many emotions for you to pin down at the moment.

“Palpetine are you serious?” You demanded more than asked, hurling the implication at him with reckless abandon “I always told you I didn’t trust him and still you-“

“You weren’t there” he cut you off and his voice was so soft, so broken it startled you into silence, your body physically recoiling back a step as he spoke “You weren’t there, and he was all I had”

“You had Obi-wan, you had Rex, you had people who cared about you Ani”

“They weren’t you” his answer back came steadfast and resolutely, leaving no room for argument, followed by a much quieter, more broken statement “they took you from me”

“No one but that weapons dealer took me from you.”

“They did” neither of you felt the need to define the ‘they’ to which you both referred “If they hadn’t kept me from going with you I could’ve-“

“You don’t know that” you cut him off, this argument feeling much to familiar “Even if you had been there we don’t know-“

“If I had been there then you wouldn’t have-“ and he didn’t need to finish his sentence, the natural end to it evidence that this was an argument he has already had with himself too many times before.

“I didn’t” you begged him to listen to you, “I’m okay. Ani I’m right here”

Your words seemed to shock him out of his own personal bubble, his eyes darting frantically around him before he seized you by the wrist suddenly, surprising you, as he started to pull you further down the alley “you need to go Y/N”

“What” the question left you on an exhale, his sudden change in attitude giving you whiplash as he tried to pull you behind him.

“You can’t be here you need to-“ he whispered quickly, frantically, almost as if the words weren’t for you.

You pulled back on your arm forcing him to stop “Ani I’m not leaving you”

He furrowed his brow at your declaration, a hand on your shoulder trying to nudge you forward still “Y/N do you know what the empire will do to you if-“

“I don’t care” you declared back, halting his movements once again, using his grip on your arm to pull his attention back down to you “I already lost you once, don’t make me do it again”

His eyes bounced desperately back and forth between yours as he set his jaw, you could practically see a million different arguments running through his head.

“Halt” a new voice broke through the tense silence, Anakin’s gaze flickering to its source above your head. You barely had time to gaze over your shoulder at the trio of clone troopers that had approached, guns drawn, before Anakin had sent the lead one flying rapidly into the wall with a flick of his wrist.

You tried desperately to hide your flinch at the noise of his armer hitting the building.

The other two froze on the spot, blasters still pointed at you, but Anakin ignored them both, hand still held aloft as he stared down at you debating his next steps for a precious few moments before he spoke.

You could see him physically morph as he addressed the clone troopers, could see him become that other man, that Darth, in the way he squared his shoulders and straightened his back, the way his voice dropped an octave, the way his grip on your wrist grew almost painful as his gaze bore down into yours

“this one is force sensitive, she comes with me”

[calypsocolada]

MISO SOUP AND SWEET POTATOES | g. tomioka

(click here for part two!)

synopsis: you're tasked with convinicing Giyu to join the Hashira Training author's note: hello. this was a days worth of writing. from 11 am to 3 am. i even wrote parts in my notepad at work. i really like how this turned out. i finished the hashira training arc last night and think that final episode might've been the best episode of anime i have actually ever seen. this is a whole ass story cw: slightly suggestive, major spoilers for rengoku and the hashira training arc, character death, gore, ANGST, fluff, happy ending, fem reader, use of y/n a lil, lover!giyu, hardheaded!reader wc: 6.4k

click here for my masterlist

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“Would you mind talking to Giyu for me? So that Giyu, who tends to put himself into a negative frame of mind can start looking ahead again. Will you be persistent in your efforts to speak with him?” 

You stared at the letter. You reread it again and again and again. Your body still aches from the previous fight in the swordsmith village and you sort of hoped this was a hallucination. That you were still unconscious at the butterfly mansion, the chatter of the nurses in the foreground. But your crow beside you squawked and startled you out of your reverie. You knew it was real. The paper crinkled in your hands. Kagaya’s handwriting, nearly flawless script, smudged slightly from a shaky hand. You followed the trail of his pen again. 

Would you mind speaking to Giyu for me?

You wondered if maybe this letter was accidentally sent to you. Even as your eyes wandered back up to the top of the paper that clearly stated ‘Dear Y/n’. Even if it didn’t say your name there were no accidents with Kagaya. You just wished that this was one. His first and only.  

But… but there had to be an accident. You… Out of everyone, all the Hashira that were certainly closer to Giyu. But you, the newest Hashira, had been chosen to speak with him? In what world did that make any sense? 

You barely knew the guy. 

Granted he had been the reason you joined the corp originally, but he’d dodged your very presence the best he could ever since that day. 

Your village had been attacked about four years ago. Same old story for a lot of people victimized by demons. There was never a happy ending with those monsters involved. Always blood. Always loss. It was no different for you. Half of your family was slaughtered before you could even rouse yourself from sleep. But when you did all you saw was the inkblots of blood on your white walls, the color shining in the cruel moonlight. You remembered sitting up and feeling numb as you heard someone screaming. That scream that never left you. Something you’d never be able to forget for as long as you lived. 

When you got to your feet your mother had busted into your room. She looked pale, blood gushing from beneath her white nightgown. She scooped you up and kissed your head as she stuffed you into the closet, her blood smudged against your pj’s. She shushed your cry’s and told you not to come out until the sun shone beneath the crack in the door. She grabbed you shakily and kissed the top of your head. You didn’t know then it was the last. You reached for her but she pushed your hands back, silently shook her head then pressed the door closed. 

You’d always been a good kid. You stayed put exactly as you’d been told. Even as you heard more screams. Even as it went quiet. 

Only until that sun shone beneath your door did you move. You busted out of that closet. Your mother’s name, the first thing on your lips but she wasn’t the first person you saw. The scene in your house was horrific, the gore the blood, it was unreal. The sight of the people you loved in multiple torn pieces scattered is something that comes back to you in flashes when you fight demons now. 

It spurs you on to do exactly what they did to your family back to them. To tear them to shreds. 

In the middle of it all was a boy. He was sitting so still that you didn’t even notice him amongst the slaughter. Your living room was still dark, dark enough that it kept this monster safe as it rose to its full height. No longer a boy but a creature from your deepest darkest nightmares. It had your family’s blood on its mouth as it smiled a wickedly devilish smile. 

“Hmm. Missed one.” It spoke in a gravelly tone as it swallowed whatever it was chewing on. You could guess what now. You stepped back into your mother’s blood… or maybe your father’s… sister’s… brother’s? The blood, slick beneath your foot as it slid out from underneath you and you crashed into their bodies, something sharp sticking into your side as you gasped in sudden pain. Your mother’s hand still gripped a knife that had now lodged itself in the back of your thigh. The demon only laughed. “Clumsy one aren’t you? Mommy wasted time hiding something so useless.” It growled, approaching with a predatory gleam in its dark eyes. 

When it pounced towards you something momentary took hold of you. You, a measly twelve year old, yanked that knife from your own flesh and thrusted it into the demons eye. The creature roared like nothing you’d heard before as it stumbled back away from you. You just blinked as you watched it, numbness contending with your fear. The creature yanked the knife out and tossed it angrily to the side. It growled, fuming as it charged back at you. You raised your hands to defend yourself, screwing your eyes shut. Mom did waste her time, you thought. You heard the whoosh of something cutting through the air itself and when you opened your eyes the creature had halted its assault. It locked eyes with you moments before its head toppled right off its shoulder, bouncing against the floor. You stared in abject horror as the creature's body started to burn a blood red color, dusting away and a figure behind it. You were as still as a statue as the figure behind it took shape. 

The shape of a boy, he couldn’t have been much older than you. Eyes an indigo blue, dark and almost unfeeling as they met yours. You watched as he gave a quick swipe of his sword to rid it of the demons burning blood as he sheathed it back at his side. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice young like yours. You weren’t hurt. Somehow. You couldn’t open your mouth to answer him, not with your body still on top of your parents. You just stared at him, even as your eyesight got cloudy and stinging tears slid down your cheeks. 

The boy walked towards you and remained still, unable to move as he bent down in front of you. He reached and clumsily brushed the tears from your face. It was as if he knew you wouldn’t part your lips to speak because wordlessly he, with immaculate ease, picked you up off the corpses and carried you out of the house. You moved for the first time in minutes as your head tilted to look back towards your family. 

“Eyes on me.” He said and sure enough your eyes snapped to him. To take in his face. Eyes endlessly dark blue as they stared forwards. He had to have been your age, maybe a year or two older. He had the shape of a young face, with full cheeks and raven black hair to the nape of his neck. You couldn’t look away, it had nothing to do with his looks but everything to do with his command. 

You were a good kid. When someone told you to do something you did it. Years later you would come to thank Giyu for that, for commanding you to look at him instead of glancing back at what remained of your family. That probably would’ve been another image left haunting you.

Everything after that was just sort of a blur. You stayed some place warm, a faint fire flickering and that boy with the sword stayed with you until some men in black uniforms found you. You remember not being able to walk, the shock and grief of the night not letting you. You’d held onto your saviors shirt, your fist balled. He let you, in fact he even came along with you and the men in black and when they asked you to let go you blinked at them. You hadn’t even noticed you were still holding on. You let go in an instant. Your hand is sore from how tightly you’d been clenching. The men in blacks hands were on your shoulders guiding you away and when you looked back your voice came to you. 

“What’s your name?” You asked, everything paused for you so you could hear his answer. 

“Giyu.” He answered. You put a name to his face. You parted your lips to thank him but nothing came out again. You couldn’t say thanks. Not when you were the only breathing because you cowardly hid in the closet. You felt you didn’t deserve to be thankful. You met his eyes again and something, somehow, told you he understood. He gave you the softest nod of his head and when he turned to leave you felt your heart drop. Like something had bonded you to this boy. But you turned and let yourself be whisked away. 

Time passed slowly. You joined up with the very same people as Giyu had. You were given a sword and trained thoroughly, a fire in you that spurred you on like nothing before. A need to kill. Which is why you eagerly trudged up that mountain to crush the selection test. You spent a few years hopping from mission to mission, gaining a bit of a terrible reputation. Though just how many demon slayers could be friendly? There was one, the man, just a few years older than you. The hashira. With hair like fire and a smile that blinded you. He took interest in you like no one had. Saw something beyond your terribly sour and cold exterior.

A year or so after that you were sent on a mission to help the Water Hashira. You’d never met any other Hashira besides Rengoku so you were sort of apprehensive. You never liked meeting new people. All those years spent with Rengoku and his fiery personality you wished at least some of it had rubbed off on you but… you were still demure and quiet, quick to anger and prone to disappearing. You liked your alone time. You had all but begged Rengoku to let you go with him in his mission, apparently some demon had infested a train, that sounded far more exhilarating than helping some water Hashira you didn’t know. Rengoku did what he always did when you were disappointed. He gave you a sort of unwanted hug, though secretly you wanted and needed it, and ruffled your hair. 

“We’ll see each other in two weeks. Next mission is yours and mine.” He said and then he was gone and you were boarding a train going the opposite way. 

When you arrived, stepping off the train your eyes met the same indigo blue eyes from so many years ago. 

When you were both kids. 

Now both adults. 

You stopped where you stood, unable to walk any closer as everything fled back. Stuff you had managed to keep down deep for so many years. Memories you wanted to erase. All that time wasted and drudged back up in mere seconds. Giyu may have had those same eyes but he was grown now. His hair longer and tied back, his face had lost that boyish roundness. He looked tall and lean. Well at least taller than you. For a moment he looked just as surprised as you but he smoothed over that emotion into something practiced. 

“It is you…” He said, his voice deep and soft. You swallowed, your hand resting on your sword. 

“You’re the water Hashira?” You asked and he nodded his head as the train behind you dinged and slowly pulled out of the stop, the wind blowing your hair over your shoulders. 

“You’re Rengoku’s tsuguko?” At that you nodded your head back at him. His eyes trailed to your sword, to your haori, an old one Rengoku had gifted you. His eyes lingered on that fiery pattern.  

“I never learned your name.” He said and then his eyes flicked to yours. You swallowed dryly, you weren’t sure why he made you so nervous, why your heart was beating so fast. You wondered if he was a part of a life you wanted to die off. The scared girl in the closet was far from who you were now. Rengoku never got to meet that scared girl. No one had. Except Giyu. You told him your name and he repeated it, as if feeling how it felt on his own lips. Your heart skipped a traitorous beat at the way he spoke your name. It felt different coming from him. You grabbed ahold of yourself.

“Shall we?”

But your mission with Giyu was cut off with the sudden death of Rengoku. You and Giyu hadn’t made it back to the village, before both of your crows had delivered the news. You still remembered everything about that moment. Giyu walking beside you, your haori catching a gust of wind, cold wind, as if winter was coming. You could replay your footsteps on the dirt road. The distant flapping of wings growing closer and closer and then stopping as they landed. Your initial glance over at the water Hashira before the delivering of the news. The ripple before the crack in your soul. Giyu had been present for the worst two days of your life. Something about losing someone again that felt like family irrevocably broke something in you all over again. This pain you felt before today you wondered for years if it would last. Rengoku had healed some of it. And begrudgingly and foolishly you let him in. But now you have your answer. This pain would last forever. You couldn’t even cry, you just stared blankly ahead, just as you had in your dark house wrecked with the stench of blood. Everyone died. Everyone you loved died.  

You felt a hand on your shoulder, you didn’t want to look at him.

“Go, I’ll finish the mission.” He said, his voice different, there was a coldness before but now only warmth. You still didn’t look at him as you turned to leave.

“Be careful.” You choked out before taking off in a run back towards the train station. 

You’d seen Giyu a few times after that but only in passing, never long enough to start up a proper conversation though both of you hated talking. You never let anyone else in after that. You took up the position of Fire Hashira and the only thing fiery about you was your utter hatred for demons. The other Hashira were sort of weary of you and that kept them at a distance. You only talked when absolutely needed and was the first to leave after Hashira meetings. You liked that distance. You’d do anything to keep it. There was only so much heartbreak and loss you could take. You were at your limit. You didn’t have room for anyone in your scabbard dying heart. 

That’s why receiving that letter from Kagaya had caught you so off guard. He of all people knew who you were and still he asked you for a favor. Probably a dying wish. He had shown you kindness and since it was the only thing he’d ever asked you for, reluctantly, you found yourself at the front of Giyu’s home. 

It was cold out as your knuckles rapped against the wooden door. You waited, stepped back and looked off to the side, expecting to see Kagaya’s crow lingering around somewhere to report back to him. A minute had passed as you gave one more series of knocks. Nothing. Maybe he wasn’t home. You sighed and turned to leave just as the wooden door clicked and was pulled open. When you turned back those striking blue eyes met yours. There was skepticism on his face as you swallowed. That feeling that met you every time you saw Giyu never seemed to fade. That persistent speeding of your heart. That faltering of words. All highly inconvenient.

“Y/n?” Giyu spoke first, pulling the door open just a tad more. He was in casual clothing, he looked as though he may have just woken up.

“Giyu. I never knew you lived in this part of town.” You stupidly lied. 

“It’s quiet.”

“I can see.” The lack of noise was slightly unsettling, only the rustling of leaves in the wind could be heard. You swallowed. “May I come in?” Your voice was slightly strained and didn’t at all sound like you wanted to do that but to your detriment Giyu moved to the side. Giyu’s home was a reflection of himself. It was clean, almost sterile, with dark walnut furnishings and dark curtains. He really must’ve been sleeping because he reaches over and flicks on a few lanterns, casting an orange glow to his main room. 

“I wasn’t expecting company,” He says over his shoulder and you almost agree.

“Unwanted?” You ask and when he shakes his head ‘no’ you relax sort of. 

“I’ll make us some food. Did you travel long?” He asks as he leads you towards the kitchen. You take a seat at the kitchen island and watch him get to work. 

“Yeah. Long train ride.” You answer as Giyu nods his head. You know he’s probably dying to know why you’re here but you're sure if you told him things would turn sour. You watched Giyu gather ingredients and supplies, he was very orderly about things, kept things nice and clean as he prepared dinner for you both. You had a lot of experience cooking with Rengoku, that man could eat and eat. Just at the thought you felt a pang and forced your face not to show it.

“Do you need help?” 

“That’s alright, you rest.” Giyu intones, setting a cup in front of you as he fills it with hot black tea. You thank him, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. You stare down into the tea for a moment and realize you had no idea how to go about this little favor Kagaya had asked of you. You barely spoke with anyone, you were well out of practice. How genuine would this ask even be coming from you? 

“How’re you?” You asked, not letting yourself be embarrassed by your lack of social skills. Giyu flicks on the stove.

“Do you really want to know?” He asked over his shoulder and stupidly, because he wasn’t even looking at you, you nodded your head before clearing your throat and speaking.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You hoped that didn’t come out as sharp as it sounded.

“I’m… well. Thank you for asking.” Giyu answered, his monotone answer at war with the words he spoke. He sounded anything but well. You remembered the last Hashira meeting. You remembered Giyu’s back turned as he said, ‘I’m not like the rest of you.’ Unlike Sanemi you didn’t feel angry at that. In fact you knew how that felt. To feel unwelcomed and wanting it to stay that way. 

“If you’re well then I’m well.” You sigh and when Giyu turned, his eyes meeting yours, you felt a flash of how you saw him that first time. You blinked it away as he turned back.

“I didn’t think… you of all the Hashira’s would be the first to visit.” Giyu said, turning back to the stove. You stared at the back of his head. 

“Me neither.” You scoffed with a soft laugh. “But here I am.”

“Here you are.” He says, his voice soft again. It did funny things to you. Funny things that only he could elicit. It was frustrating.

“Giyu…” You trailed off, unsure how to broach the subject. “Did something happen? To make you not want to help out with the Hashira training?” Giyu was quiet for a long moment. You watched him stir some stuff into the pan and for a moment you thought he hadn’t heard you. 

“Can we not… talk about that?” He asks almost kindly. But that’s all you needed to talk about. If you didn’t stay on topic you’d be doing Kagaya a disservice. Though… could you count that as a hardy try?

“Of course.” You answered, fiddling with your hands. You’d left your sword back at the inn you were staying at and wished you’d had it just so you could fiddle with something else. “Though, I apologize but, I almost wish I could sit it out too.”

“Why’s that?”

“Training a bunch of snot nosed kids sounds like hell to me.” You spoke truthfully and watched Giyu’s shoulders rise and fall quickly, almost like he was maybe laughing, but he still wasn't facing you so you wouldn’t know.

“Not a fan?”

“I had my fill with the three from the swordsmith village.” Tanjiro, his little demon sister, Nezuko and Sanemi’s little brother Genya. All a handful. But very capable in a fight. 

“How’re your wounds? I… never got to ask.” Giyu says as he reaches for some seasoning, finally turning to the side to face you.

“Scarring up.” You said and Giyu nodded his head, his eyes drifting to the scar on your cheek.

“Two upper ranks. If anyone could handle them I knew it’d be you.” He says with a sort of gleam in his eye. 

“Can’t take the credit. That red head kid killed one of ‘em while MItsuri and I held off its body. Muichiro took out the other by himself.” You recounted, the fight honestly felt like it would never end.

“You and Kanroji worked together?”

“Surprising, right?”

“Not at all.” Giyu answers. “You two are very alike.”

“In what way?” You almost laughed at that statement. 

“Strong, fierce, never quit.”

“I think we all have that in common.” You say and Giyu gets this look in his eyes as he turns back away. You feel as though you lost some ground. You chew the inside of your cheek. Clearly Giyu doesn’t feel as though he had that in common. Something ignited in you. A need to say something on your mind. “Giyu… I-- I never thanked you.”

“Thanked me?” He echoed.

“I’ve… wrestled with it for a long time. How to… go about it. Kyojuro used to tell me to practice with all the people we met. To thank them for stupid things, like holding the door open or bringing me food. Just so the words didn’t feel so foreign. But I never really felt thankful for you saving me. I lived because my whole family died. Because I hid.” You take in a shaky breath. You’d never talked about this stuff out loud, not even with Rengoku. You felt embarrassed suddenly, shaking your head, you forced out a choked laugh. “Nevermind. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m… rambling.” You felt his eyes on you but you forced yourself to keep looking down at your warm tea. As long as you stayed like this maybe he’d move the conversation along to something else. You cursed yourself for ruining the mood, if there even was one to begin with.

“You don’t have to stop. I… I would like to know more about you. I… always have.” Your eyes shot to his like a knife hitting its mark. Those dark eyes, you could swim in them. Get lost in them. 

Those eyes… could make you feel something. 

That made you shoot to your feet, your tea spilling over. Giyu didn’t startle, he just turned to grab a rag but when he turned back you were halfway to the front door. He dropped the towel on the table. 

“W-wait!” He called to you but when he rounded into the main room the front door slammed closed. 

You fumbled outside, steps clumsy as you started to run and run. You didn’t want to think about it. You had to get away, as far as those legs of yours could take you. You could run to the next town over, retrieve your sword in the morning and never speak to the water hashira again. Never again. Favor be damned. What you felt was dangerous. That kind of thing left you the hollow husk you were today. You preferred this safe loneliness. You couldn’t ever be hurt again. You stopped for a moment, the cold air tough to run in as you huffed and puffed out condensation clouds.

“You’re fast.” You hadn’t even heard his approach. You didn’t turn, just swallowed.

“I- realized I have an early train. Can’t stay out late.”

“Come back... Please.” His voice was doing that soft thing you body liked so much. You clenched your jaw, if you could stab your heart you would.

“I can’t.”

“Why? And… tell me the truth.” You heard him walk a bit closer. Please, you thought, just go back home.

“Maybe you’re right. What you said at the last meeting, that you’re not like us other Hashira. Maybe I just realized it.” You wanted to hurt him, it was a common defense you used quite often. 

“And?”

“And I’m wasting my time speaking with someone who’d rather sit on the sidelines.” You spat over your shoulder. That’ll do it, you thought, that’ll get him to leave. It was quiet, heartbreakingly quiet and you were too much of a coward to see the hurt you caused so you started to walk away towards your inn.

“You… can hate me.” You stopped walking instantly and turned, Giyu looked stricken, as if you slapped him. You regretted turning around. “You can hate me all you want. Yell at me, hit me, whatever you want to do. But I need you to know… you might regret me saving you but I’ll never regret saving you.”

“Giyu,”

“Please… let me.” He straightened slightly. “I… am amazed by you.” His words hit you like the sharpest sting. Like a knife in the gut that slowly twists. “You’re incredible, nothing ever could rival you. You… lost so many yet you fight with purpose. I could never be like you.” You tense your jaw, eyes sharp. 

“That’s where you’re wrong.” You take a step towards him. “I am hateful. I don’t have a purpose to fight anymore I just do it because it needs to be done. You don’t know me at all.”

“Maybe I don’t. But… I want to.”

“Why?”

“I’m not succinct.” Giyu sighs, as if tired. “I just do.” Want to know you. You stared at him and that traitorous heart of yours, that naive heart did another flip. You shook your head. 

“You don’t. No one does.”

“Rengoku did.” Your eyes lit like fire, some heat filling your soul. You wanted to yell at him for saying his name. For bringing him into this. But you’d done it first. 

“He’s dead. They all are. My whole family. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want you to know me. I want you to go back home and let me be.” 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Maybe for the same reason your eyes find mine every time we're in the same room.” Giyu took a step closer, you watched him move as though he was going to strike through your heart. Like he was going for a killing blow.

“I… I don’t do that.” The lie was so obvious to your ears it almost made you cringe outwardly. 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you. I look for you in every room. I… I lied to you the second time we saw each other so many years ago I… I knew you were Rengoku’s tsuguko because he’d written to me. He… sensed something and told me he was sending you to me for that mission. I was so… so damn nervous to see you again after so many years. So curious about how you were faring and I couldn’t even get more than fifteen words out. And when Rengoku passed I would write Kagaya, ask him how you were because I was too much of a coward to ask you myself.” 

That’s why Kagaya wrote to you. 

Your heart beat, skipped a beat then beat again. Everything was falling into place. Why Rengoku had sent you away when you had always gone on missions with him. The scheming man was playing matchmaker. And even Kagaya was playing the same damn game. 

“Don’t say anything else, Giyu. Please.”

“I won’t speak the rest of the night if you come back. You can even leave at first light. Just please… let me feed you and give you a place to sleep.”

“My inn isn’t too far.”

“Please.” The emotion in his voice was staggering. It was a plea. It had sounded like something he needed even more than breathing. You stared at him. If you went with him now that would be the very first crack in your walls. You never gave an inch away since Rengoku died and if you started now everything would crumble.

“No. I’m going back to my inn.”

“I’ll join the hashira training.” He said and your lips parted in silent surprise. “That’s why you came tonight wasn’t it? You’d never do it alone so Kagaya must’ve written to you? Am I right?” Your face must’ve given away the answer because Giyu continued and you realized right here and now this is the most you two have ever talked. An hour together had more dialogue than almost eight years. And this was why you kept your distance all these years. Because if anyone knew you it was Giyu, he’d seen you at your lowest yet here he was… begging you to stay for just a few hours. “Come back and I’ll join. You can consider your task a success.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I’d do it for you.”

“Be serious.” You growled and Giyu took another step forward. You hadn’t noticed him getting so close but suddenly he was close enough to touch. You stepped back. 

“Come back. Please.”

“You’re annoyingly persistent.”

“I just want you safe. That’s all.”

“You already saved me once. That’s enough.” You condemned with a shake of your head. Giyu looked doubtful for a moment, unsure of how to convince you to come back. But if you made good on Kaguya's favor this could be the end of it. “I’ll come back.” His eyes shot up to yours. “But I’m gone first light.” He nodded his head at that. 

Giyu finished up dinner as you set the table. It was quiet between you two after everything. Giyu had all but confessed the real depth of his feelings but you had an idea and it wasn’t something you’d let yourself dwell on. That idea was something close to hope. Something close to a degree of happiness. That’s not something you wanted. Not something you’d let yourself have. If there was one thing you were truly good at, it was self destruction. 

You took your seat as Giyu placed down the food. Miso soup with sweet potatoes. You stared at it, stricken. Rengoku’s favorite meal. 

“Hey… you alright?” 

“Seriously? That was at least your sixth bowl.” You huffed. Rengoku smirked as he pulled the bowl to his lips, slurping down the rest of its contents. He placed it down and reached for the ladle again. You watched him in amused surprise as he dulled out a seventh bowl. “You’re overgorging yourself.”

“It’s too good. Who taught you to cook, kid?” 

“You did.” You sighed with an eyeroll as Rengoku laughed heartily.

“Ah! That’s right I did.”

You blinked a few times and suddenly your face felt wet. You pressed a hand to your cheek. You hadn’t cried since losing your parents. You thought you were incapable, that you had exhausted your tear ducts at night. You hadn’t cried when you lost Rengoku and you always felt inhuman because of it. You looked across the table and met Giyu’s wide eyed stare, he looked startled at your tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and you couldn’t stop the tears now. They fell so fluidly, so overwhelmingly. You tried to apologize but your words just came out in stuttered croaks in your throat. Giyu stood so fast he knocked his chair over as he crossed to the other side of the table. He dropped to his knees beside you and pulled you to him. Rengoku hugged you a lot. You’d say it was unwanted but it was something you needed. Giyu’s arms around you felt different. He hugged you close to his chest, his hand tangled in your hair as you fell prey to your emotions. But startlingly so… it felt nice. Bottling things up for so long had very nearly ended you and you might’ve been able to really shut off your humanity if it hadn't been for that damned letter. 

If it hadn't been for Rengoku’s unending kindness. 

If it hadn't been for Giyu’s persistence. 

You could’ve nearly ended up as black hearted as the demon that flipped your life upside down. That was the most startling revelation of them all.

Giyu hugged you tight as you fell to pieces. He didn’t let go, never even loosened his arms a little bit around you. He just held you and let you cry and cry. It should’ve been embarrassing but as he pulled your hair back out of your face and wiped your wet cheeks there wasn’t an ounce of that annoying sympathy in his eyes. Just utter understanding. And this was the most inopportune time, seeing as your eyes were probably bloodshot, nose probably running like crazy, but without thinking you sucked in a ragged breath and then surged forwards and pressed your mouth to his. Giyu made a sound in his throat, you felt his arms around you tighten, drawing you in, deepening the kiss. 

This wasn’t something you knew of. 

Your parent’s pecked each other’s lips and cheeks but this… no this was something for behind closed doors. For just you two. That fire that pooled in your stomach upon seeing Giyu had heightened at least tenfold when he pulled you into his lap. Your bodies pressed against one anothers, no room, not even a milimeter’s length of space. He kissed you softly, but you kissed him back hard, untrained, unknowing. That chasm of loneliness in you had reached its peak and you wanted it gone, you wanted it filled. He gently ran his hand through your hair and you balled your fist in his shirt. He gently lowered you back and kissed you against the hardwood flooring of his kitchen. 

You shoved your chair away from you both and hooked your legs around his hips. He made another sound and you found that you liked it so you tightened your hold and slid your hand in his hair. That awarded you another sound, like a whimper. When he pulled back for air you yanked him by the hair back to your lips. Fuck air. You didn’t need that. You’d rather breathe him in. He whimpered again, his hips mindlessly moving, sending a wave of heat through you and this time it was your turn to groan. He hooked an arm around your back and with strength and swiftness, he hoisted you up off the floor without even breaking the kiss. You gasped in surprise and he walked you through the hallway. Kissing you against the wall and the door and the dresser before he finally made it to his bed. 

You two fell into the softness of his covers, his body trapping you beneath him. He trailed his lips away from yours and you whimpered at the loss of contact. But he kissed both your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose and to your jaw. He paid extra attention to your neck before kissing your collar bones. He kissed his way down your body. Kissing your scars that had once been an eyesore to you. Ever so gently tracing some absentmindedly with his other hand. Whatever growing between you two was something to be earned. Sure you loved Giyu but you needed more time with him. You spent eight years barely speaking. You could tell Giyu felt that too because when his lips met yours again and pulled back you both blinked tiredly at one another. 

Astonishingly you watched the softest of smiles spread across Giyu’s face. You wanted to catalog this moment forever. To remember it till the day you died. Giyu pressed one last kiss to your forehead and then dropped beside you on the bed. He pulled you to him, your back pressed to his front. Your legs tangled as his hand reached across you and intertwined with yours. You blushed but settled against him. The dregs of sleep calling for you. You two didn’t need to speak another word.  

You watched the first light roll in through Giyu’s curtains. It shone like blades across his room. Giyu softly snored beside you, arms still around your body. You’d never kissed a single soul before but you knew what a kiss meant. You knew whenever your dad kissed your mom or the other way around that it was an unspoken way to say I love you. But it was a different kind of love your parents shared. You loved your family. You loved Rengoku. 

But you loved Giyu. 

You loved him as you clamped your fist in his shirt the night he saved you. You loved him when you stepped off that train. You loved him at every hashira meeting and every stolen glance. You loved him as you read Kagaya’s letter and loved him when he opened the door. As he chased you down in the street and begged you to come back to his home. So many problems never go away, some pain felt as though it would last forever and you never thought you could break through. You never thought you could just grow around it, because nothing was more persistent than a plant in the presence of the sun. You never told Rengoku you loved him, never told him how much he meant to you and that his kindness never fell to deaf ears. You had spent eight years loving Giyu and not letting yourself know it.

And all it took was a damn bowl of miso soup and sweet potatoes.

[fuk3d]

A Moment In Time

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (?)

Warning: Murder, Descriptions of blood, Major character death.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hey everyone. I really appreciate the support you guys gave on my last post, it was really overwhelming for me even though it might not seem a lot to most lol.

Chapter 1: Happy Birthday | Chapter 2: Distant Memories

Blood. 

Its smell is tang and metallic. Its colour is dangerous, fervent with connections of power, hatred, anger, and… death. 

Blood.

A fickle thing it is. In the way it stains, no matter the material. It stays, even when you try to get rid of it. But you already knew that didn’t you, [Name]?

“[Name] you must stay quiet, no matter what you hear and what you see, stay right here, please baby. Mama loves you” Your mother would say to you, the last thing she would ever say to you actually as she shoves you into the closet, shutting it with a harsh push before hurriedly walking away. Away from you. 

‘Don’t leave me’ you thought. 

Your small form had curled into itself in the dainty closet, small tremors compelling your whole body to quiver and shake. You were just a child back then, hiding away from the sounds of glass shattering, minute fragments of it scattering onto the hard-wood floors. Furniture could be heard crashing against the walls, multiple gruff voices penetrating through the sanctuary your mother had called your ‘safe space’. The sounds of her broken voice breaks through the closet barriers whilst she fights viciously, for the both of you. Still, all you could think about in that very moment was- 

When is mama coming back? How long has it been? Are they still here? Are they gonna hurt me too? Like how they’re hurting mama?

Your body couldn’t handle the stress, streams of whimpers and curt gasps escaping from your lips. You didn’t even know you were beginning to hyperventilate, your eyes blurred by the oval tears that had begun to collect. You couldn’t stop feeling, couldn’t stop hearing the sounds of struggling. You can’t breathe, can’t see, you can’t even hear what’s going outside beyond the closet. All you knew in that split second was that you needed to get out, smell the clean air before you went insane. 

And peculiar, how fate works in its twisted ways; it's almost like it could hear you, begging for a somewhat momentary release. The noise had died down, and everything had suddenly just come to a…. Stop.

Silence.  

No more were the sounds of screaming, yelling, and crying. Now, it was just you. 

You remember that night so clearly, every detail drilled through your head in a never-ending loop. 

And so, with much hesitation, you step out of the closet. Eye’s locked onto the horrific sight that had been laid in front of you. There lies your mother in a pool of her own blood, her eyes, like polished globes appeared lifeless, dead. You take a step, and then another one, then another, until you're standing in front of her. 

“Mama?” Your lips wobbled, legs buckling under the realisation that she was dead. You drop to your knees with a hard ‘thud!’, pain coursing through your little knees. Red starts to stain your clothing as the colour envelopes your tiny hands. Fluorescent red and blue gleam through the apartment. 

“Mama! Mama, wake up! The police are here, can you hear them? They’re coming to save you so you can stop pretending!!” You yell at her, attempting to pull at your mothers hand. Only to reel back from shock at how cold she felt. “Mama, why’re you so cold?” You put your soft hands on her own, feeling tears before it even registers in your mind that you’re crying. The transparent liquid sliding down your puffy cheeks, dripping at your chin before trickling onto the floorboards.   

The noises of your grieving reverberate off the worn down walls, the shuffling of heavy footsteps can be heard but you ignore it, too engrossed in your own mourning. When the police arrive at the designated area that you were in, they’re stunned by the sight. In the middle of all the broken glass and shattered furniture, was you and your mother.

You’re hastily carried away from her, a sick and uneasy feeling growing within your stomach when you see people gather her body and shove her into a body bag. 

What happens next is hazy. You fuzzily recall arriving at the police station and taken in immediately for questioning. They had asked if you knew who your dad was, to which you shook your head ‘no’, shaken by the awful tragedy that took place tonight. You think back to the two officers chatting to each other, just outside the room you were situated in. “Said they don’t know who their father is, poor thing. Must’ve been hard not having a dad.” A resounding slap could be heard as the officer scolds his friend with a coarse tone, “Keep your voice down will ya? You dickbag, they can hear us.” You remember their voices becoming distant, soft mutters of  ‘Alright! Alright!’  became nothing but background noise. 

After that, the police got you cleaned up before taking you down to a hospital lab, the people there extracting a sample of your DNA and swiftly sending it off for a paternity test. While they tossed you into an orphanage for a temporary stay. That's the system for you.  

It had been 6 weeks after that night, and during your abode at the orphanage, you had become entirely numb, both physically and mentally. You didn’t even attempt to make friends, too wrapped up within your own head about that night, about what went down. You completely shut down and refrained from opening up until one of the caregivers gave you a letter addressed to you. A black wax seal with a big, fancy W was engraved into. Curiosity akin to a cat, you unfurled the envelope, eyes lighting up with excitement when you realise that your father was Bruce Wayne. After all the traumatic shit you had gone through, you deserved to distract yourself from all the bad memories that had been plaguing you. 

Three days. 

 In three days, your dad (a word so foreign to you) will be taking you to your new home, where you’re safe, where you can sleep without any fear. 

Three days. 

Time seemed to feel prolonged, and it made you tense. You were so conscious of how skittish you had become over the course of three days. You just couldn’t sleep properly, couldn’t sit still at the thought of finally meeting Bruce Wayne, the man who was your father.

So, when the three day wait was up, you were dressed in your best attire (with what little clothes you own) and hurriedly made your way to the front of the orphanage, your cute suitcase in hand as a monochromatic  vehicle pulled up. You were basically jumping out of your shoes when you heard the car door open, only to realise that it wasn’t a man who looked to be your father. Actually, it was an elderly gentleman dressed in butler attire, with balding grey hair and a pale complexion. Huh, how disappointing.

You couldn’t help but frown, struggling to mask the disdain as he stepped towards you with an air of confidence. “You must be the child Bruce was talking about.” Huh? Why did he say it like that? Where was your dad? “My name is Alfred, I am your family butler.” 

Your lips stretched down into an impossibly deeper frown. “Okay… but, where’s my dad?” You questioned, awaiting his answer as Alfred cleared his throat. “Your father is… busy as of right now. He’s attending to matters regarding work. I hope you forgive him for his improper timing Young [Name].” Alfred dips his head, mimicking something similar to a bow while you poorly nodded at your family butler– Alfred. You stay silent as you step inside the car, Alfred shuts the door while he gets into the driver seat, the car's engine roaring thunderously as it shakes the vehicle. 

You look out the window, eyes reflecting off the glass whilst the people and buildings blend in together. Gotham was such a dull place, monochrome colours mixing into each other. It was the only region that was able to turn its own people into vile, foul, and disgusting human beings disguised in sheep's clothing. It was the only region that could turn its people into villains and monsters. And it certainly had a habit of making the people with the most potential suffer a fate worse than death. Just like you. 

Why didn’t my dad pick me up instead? What was so important that he couldn’t even meet me himself? What’s going to happen to m-

No. You shouldn’t think like that, you wouldn’t think like that. You’re sure it was just an accident, a slip up, a one time thing right? It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s your dad and as long as he cares right?

‘Right’ you affirm to yourself. Your confidence comes back, you're excited once again. 

If I can’t meet him at the orphanage, I can just meet him at my new home, right?

You really couldn’t wait. You couldn’t wait to meet your new family and you couldn’t wait to see your new home. 

“We’ve arrived Young [Name].”

@strwberryglass

End Note: Okay so I was contemplating if I should continue this further because I didn't want to start a piece of writing just to lose the motivation or interest. I want to do this for myself and not for the sake of writing for others (no offence). Anyway, thank you for reading!

Also, updates are going to be pretty slow since I'm starting school next week! So please hold on until then :)

[ljubimaya]

– A LITTLE DEATH

SYNOPSIS: Wounded after a gang fight, Baji finds comfort in you in more than one way.

C/W: aged up characters (Baji and reader are 20+ years old), mentions of death (no one dies, though), fem! reader, friends to lovers, confessions, mentions of wounds and bruises and the treatment of such, reader and Baji teasing each other, a little angst with tons of comfort, fingering, p in v, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (keep it wrapped), soft sex, slow burn bc I yapped too much, pet names (pretty girl baby), lmk if I missed smth ♡

A/N: This took me seven months and three rewrites :,)) me writing soft sex with Kei is 100% self-indulgent and lowkey selfshipcoded btw

W/C: 9k+ words (I told you I yapped too hard, I'm sorry, it will happen again)

1 A.M. and you didn’t sleep. You weren't even tired, not after receiving the text from your best friend. 

“I’ll be at yours in a while” was all Baji sent you. You received his message when you were just getting ready for bed, after you took a nice hot shower and put on your freshly washed pajamas. All hopes of a peaceful, quiet night shattered the moment you opened the chat and read his text. 

That was at 10 P.M. the previous day. You’ve been sitting on your couch for three hours now and couldn’t get a grip on your idiotic best friend. Calls wouldn’t go through, messages would remain unanswered, and you didn’t even have the numbers of his other, equally idiotic friends so they could forward your message to Baji. Not that you would actually even reach out to them, despite being your friend’s friends, you were still deeply terrified of most of them. 

Worry took over at 11 P.M. when he didn’t show up like he promised he would and panicked, when you couldn’t even reach him by midnight, and once 1 A.M. rolled around, you found yourself trying to rationalize him not showing up. Maybe he’s asleep in his bed? Maybe he’s still out with his friends? Maybe he’s lying dead in a ditch?

Dread truly was the best alternative to caffeine, you couldn’t even think of going back to bed until you knew he was alive and breathing. 

So you sat on your couch, wrapped in your fuzzy blanket and sipping on your herbal tea to calm your nerves. The tea itself didn’t seem to help calm your anxiety at all, but you found that if you didn’t hold the warm cup, you'd reach out to grab your phone and start bombarding him with calls and texts. The little faith you had in him told you you would have enough time to give him an earful once he shows up. If he shows up…

A light knock brought you back to reality. You didn’t expect anyone except for Baji, so you felt safe to open the door. You didn’t know what it was, a logical conclusion that it could only be him, the hope you held in your heart that it was him, or an inner knowing. Whichever it may have been, you were right. 

Upon opening your front door, you were greeted with none other than the first division captain himself. Although alive and breathing, Baji looked exhausted. Cuts littered his handsome face, bloody knuckles clutched to his stomach, and his tired eyes told you everything you needed to know. He needed to get patched up. 

“Not asleep?” he asked in his deep raspy voice. His deep baritone usually makes you feel butterflies in your stomach, but hearing the tiredness out of his voice, you couldn’t bring yourself to swoon over him. At least not yet. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you answered “No. Couldn’t fall asleep when you texted me you’d come over. Although, I didn’t think I’d have to wait three hours” You laughed dryly. 

Baji frowned. He knew he arrived way later than he had promised you, and to his credit he would have arrived earlier if it were up to him. 

Usually, he would have been rough to anyone who gives him even the slightest bit of sass. He’d beat them back to their place and make sure they would choose their tone more carefully around him, but you weren’t just anyone to him. You know his temper, you have been victim to it on numerous occasions now, but he never dared to treat you like one of his underlings. Baji was never rough to you, tried avoiding becoming loud or calling you names except for the occasional “stupid”, “nerd”, or “brat”, which he knew wouldn’t offend you. 

“I know I said I’d arrive earlier, but you know how things are with the gang. One moment we’re having a normal meeting, the next we’re fighting some weak ass rival gang”

“You guys won?” you asked as you let the wild man enter your home. He grinned proudly as he settled down on your couch, still careful not to hurt himself further. 

“You know it. No gang can stand a chance against us” 

You rolled your eyes at him, chuckling as he boasted about his victory against the rival gang. 

“They had more members than Toman does” Baji grumbled as he watched you bring out the first aid kit “The nerve of them to attack us. No name gang, heard about them only once during another conflict with another rival gang”

“The one from last month?” You asked, taking out the bandages and alcohol wipes. This wasn’t the first time Baji had asked you to patch him up after a gang fight, it became a recurring thing when you befriended the hot headed gangster. You would always look forward to seeing him after a gang fight, it was almost therapeutic to take care of his wounds while he rambled about anything and everything. Given your busy schedules, both of you living completely different lives, and thus having a hard time making plans to meet up, him coming over after a gang fight felt more like catching up with him rather than a chore to you. 

“Yeah, those fucking bastards” Baji confirmed while he undid the buttons of his Toman uniform. Carefully, he took off the piece of clothing and put it right next to your first aid kit on the coffee table. You glared at him as he did that. 

“You did not just out your dirty shirt on my clean coffee table”

“Oh jeez, stop it. You sound like my mom” He teased, his hand soon grasping the article of clothing. “May I throw it on the floor, mom?” Baji taunted you as soon as he removed his shirt from your coffee table. Chuckling at his teasing, you retorted “Careful, or else I’ll ground you for a week. You can kiss your little gangster friends goodbye”

The ravenette groaned at your quick witted response “Thank God I’m a grown man. Thank God you’re not my mom” You took the shirt from his grasp, your fingers brushing against his rough ones for a short moment. 

“I can wash it for you. It looks really dirty, and I don’t want you to wear a dirty shirt when I’m done cleaning your wounds” 

Baji’s face softens when you suggest washing his shirt for him “You really don’t have to. I don’t mean to trouble you any more than I have to-”

“Nonsense” You cut him off as you stood up and started to walk towards your bathroom “I’ll throw it into the washing machine while I’ll take a look at your wounds. It’s not like I’m going to wash it with my hands”

Baji stared at you as you began to retreat from him “You want me to leave shirtless?”

“No. You can sleep over tonight” You hummed. While bold, you knew that you wouldn’t let him leave in the dead of the night, especially with his injuries. The prospect of Baji staying for the night makes your blood rush towards your cheeks. Trying to conceal your sudden shyness, you turned around from him, hoping he wouldn’t be able to tell just how flustered you were. 

No matter how late Baji would visit, he wouldn’t stay over too long. This would be a first if he agreed to sleep over. You were almost certain he would disagree with you, tell you not to worry too much about him, that he didn’t need to sleep over, but you were willing to fight him over it. 

Baji scoffed “You really don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you more than I already am. You’ve stayed awake for so long to take care of my bruises, you really don’t have to wash my clothes now too, or let me stay over. Besides” He stopped for a moment, studying the way you’ve turned away from him “You got work. I’m not a child you have to take care off”

“I understand that you’re an adult and can do whatever you please” You mustered up all the courage to turn around and face him “Let me care for you. I don’t want you to get infections, and I sure as hell don’t want you to walk home alone in your state. I know you can handle getting punched or kicked or thrown, but”  I can’t handle it. You halted. Heart beating against your ribcage furiously, you felt the blood rush to your face. If I don’t calm down now, I’ll end up crying.

So you took a deep breath, trying to get a hold on your bubbling emotions “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. You’re staying, and that’s final” Without letting him react, you walked off to your bathroom. 

You quickly returned with a big bowl filled with water once you’ve thrown his article of clothing into the washing machine. The walk back into the living room was filled with dread. Knowing how hot headed he can be, he should be pissed. He should be angry at you, he should tell you to back off and let him do whatever he wants. You were already mentally preparing yourself to argue and reason with him, but upon your return, you didn’t see a glaring, angry man. 

Baji sat silently on the couch, waiting for you to come back. No traces of anger graced his face, no clenching fists, he didn’t even talk when you approached him

You sat down next to him. Although the silence was awkward, it helped you focus on tending to his wounds. His naked torso was littered with small bruises. You were able to make out small cuts, but they were predominantly on his hands. No open wounds except his bloodied knuckles. Mentally taking notes on his physical condition, you made a treatment plan. Deciding his knuckles needed immediate attention, you carefully took his hand into yours. Baji let you take his hand without any sort of resistance, instead, he watched you clean the surrounding area of the wounds on his fingers and knuckles before carefully dabbing the alcohol infused cotton. Before, you rinsed his open wounds with cool water to get out any rubble that could be inside. A low hiss escaped Baji’s lips once you lightly pressed the in alcohol soaked cotton. Usually, he’d tell you to be more careful, but this time he doesn’t say a word. 

“I know it hurts” you muttered in an apologetic tone as you carefully dab the cotton on the wound, trying to get him to talk to you “I’ll try to be more careful”

Moments passed and he still didn’t make attempts to reply back. You continued cleaning his and dressing his knuckles and hands; and while it felt like an eternity without hearing Baji’s deep voice rambling about the gang or his personal life, you were finished tending to his hands much faster than it usually took you. 

One look at the bruises on his torso, and you knew they needed to be cooled, especially the big and dark bruise on his stomach. Suddenly, you remembered the way Baji was clutching his stomach. 

“What happened here?” You asked him, your fingers lightly grazing his rock hard abs absentmindedly. Baji groaned and gritted his teeth as you touched the bruise. Quickly realizing that he was in pain, you retreated your fingers from the hurting area. Mentally cursing at yourself for being so careless, you opened your mouth to utter an apology, but Baji was quicker. 

“Got hit by a metal pipe” Baji told you, a scowl adorning his face as he sat up straighter “That bastard swung at me out of nowhere. Didn’t even see him coming, was too busy punching some other fuckers”

“I’m so sorry”

Baji snorted at your apology as he finally looked at you, his eyes locking with yours for the first time since you demanded he stayed over. “‘s nothing you have to apologize for. You weren’t there, hell, I wouldn’t want you to be at a gang fight” He grinned teasingly at you, the awkward silence from before having completely vanished “The streets aren’t for you”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him and laugh “What? Are you calling me soft or something?”

“Maybe. Won’t call you tough either” He chuckled as he watched you reach over to grab the cotton again. 

“Lift up your head. I still need to disinfect the small scratches on your face, Mister Tough” You hummed as you took his face into your hands, taking a better look at the small cuts that littered his face. However, your attention slipped into other directions as you kept on looking at him. Suddenly, you weren’t looking at his small wounds, but rather, you were looking at his plump lips. Then his pointy nose, his bushy eyebrows, and soon, your gaze fell upon his eyes. 

Earthy brown irises looked back into yours, and you swore you saw them glint in the low light of your living room. You felt weak, your heart fluttering as you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He has drawn you in with one single look of his eyes, and you swore you would drown in them like they were quicksand. Or maybe you would burn in the molten bronze of his eyes? Whatever it may be, all power left your body as soon as your eyes locked with his. You had no energy to look away; you had no energy and you certainly didn’t have the desire to. 

“That's not cleaning my wounds” a wolfish grin appeared on his lips, obviously amused by the sight of you flinching and tensing up when he caught you staring at him for far too long. 

Blood rushed to your face, you felt so embarrassed and humiliated at his teasing smirks. Oh that bastard…

“Well, I can't clean them when I haven't assessed them properly” you shot back, proud of your quick-witted response. Still, you couldn’t help but look away, the fluttering feeling inside your stomach growing more intense the longer his gaze remained on your form. Your face is turned away from him, your eyes averted to the floor when you felt his half bandaged hands reach towards your face, cupping it in a warm embrace. 

The teasing smirk having disappeared, Baji’s face has softened. His thumb lightly grazed your cheek when he turned you to face him, and just like that you locked eyes with him again. 

“Hey” he whispered in a tender tone, still stroking your cheek with his thumb “You ok?”

You leaned into his touch instinctively, eyes closing as you welcomed his warmth, basking in the comfort it provides. 

“I’m not the one that got hurt” you muttered “I am however incredibly…..” you took a deep breath as your voice falters. You felt the urge to double down on your words and tell him that everything was fine and that you were just overreacting and tired, but you couldn’t bear holding your tongue anymore. 

“I am incredibly worried about you”

Just like that, Pandora’s Box opened. The unsettling feeling you had right before he arrived returned and despite his warm hands holding your face, his face appeared to you so much paler than he usually was. 

Baji raised his eyebrow at your concerns, his thumb still caressing your cheek while he remained silent. You took his silence as a go ahead to explain your worry for him. 

“I know you are a grown man, and that you can do whatever you want. I can’t force you to do anything, and you know that you would never ask you to change anything about yourself” The words tumbled out of your mouth. Your heart pounded against your ribcage furiously, cold sweat coated your body and you felt your vision blurred. Yet, no tears rolled down your cheeks, you held them back as much as you could. There was no way you would break down in front of him like that. So you mustered up all the strength you had to calm your breathing before you continued.

“But I worry. I worry that there will be a day in which I’ll have to wake up to find out you’re lying in the hospital. I worry that one day I’ll wake up to find out you’re missing. And worst of all, I fear the day that you won’t return to me after a fight” 

You didn’t even finish talking and tears were already rolling down your face. Despite initially not wanting to cry in front of him, you felt as if a burden was being lifted from you. Baji listened silently to your distraught ramble. His hands never left your face, holding it so delicately as if you would crumble into pieces if he let go. 

“Promise me, Keisuke. Promise me that I won’t have to wake up in cold sweat from nightmares about losing you. Promise me I won’t have to stay awake all night long and wonder about your safety. Promise me you’ll always find your way back to me”

A shaky breath left your lips; you stared deeply into his eyes as you pleaded with him. You couldn’t take your gaze away from him, your eyes bored deeply into his, silently seeking for an answer to your emotionally charged demands. 

Finally, Baji broke his silence. 

“You know I can’t promise you any of that” He muttered. Baji firmly held your eye contact while his hands slowly retreated from your face “I can’t make such promises to you when I know just how unpredictable gang fights are” 

This wasn’t what you were expecting, nor the answer you wanted to hear from him. Your heart squeezed at his honest answer and his sudden retreat. Crushed, you too made an effort to distance yourself from him, but when you were about to stand up and excuse yourself, you felt his hands on yours. The ravenette guided your hands towards his face, making you hold his face. 

“I didn't know you were so worried about me. I never meant to inconvenience you in any way-”

“That's not what I'm complaining about!” You snapped back at him, not believing what you were hearing from him. 

“You're not inconveniencing me in any way. I look forward to seeing you. I wanna hear you ramble about your tights, your gang members, your colleagues - anything, really. I just hate seeing you hurt” 

Baji looked deeply into your eyes, and for a second you thought you would get swept up by his beautiful brown irises until you heard his usually gruff voice speaking to you in an unusually soft tone. A tone only reserved for you.

“Hey, look at me. I know it might sound harsh, but you gotta understand that I’m not making any promises to you that I know I won’t be able to keep. I wish I was able to say it with my full chest and promise that nothing will happen to me, but that’s not how life works” 

His reasoning seemed plausible, and yet, your heart sank as Baji tried to reason with you. Something inside you yearned for more, you needed to hear something from him, or else you knew you would never be able to sleep peacefully at night. 

“Keisuke” you whispered tenderly as you held his face gently, his hands still pressing against the back of your hands, keeping them in place. It was a firm grip, a grip that told you that he wanted to be held, and yet nothing about his touch seemed rough and forceful.

“I understand what you’re trying to tell me. I understand that some things are out of your reach, but this does nothing to calm my racing thoughts. I won’t be able to think of anything else but your safety when I know you’re out there. I know it sounds selfish of me to demand it, but for the sake of my own sanity, I need some reassurance of you” 

Baji's eyes never left your while you spoke. His eyebrow furrowed as his mind worked out a reasonable enough deal for you, a promise that would give you a peace of mind and that he would be able to fulfill. Eventually, his grip on your hands loosened. While no longer pressed against his own face, he held your hands tenderly. 

“I get that, I really do. While I can’t promise you that I will stay safe all the time, I can promise you that I will be more careful. I can promise you to be more mindful of my surroundings and I can promise you that I won’t run head first into fights” 

This seemed to be all the reassurance that you needed from him. A soft smile graced your face as you heard his proposal as relief washed over you. It may have not been what you wanted to hear, but it surely was better than no promise from him at all. 

“I’ll take it” a breathless whisper escaped through your lips. Baji broke his gaze from yours, only for his eyes to land on your hands holding his. You followed suit and looked at your intertwined fingers. You haven’t even realized that your fingers have laced with his. Was it when he made his promise to you to be more careful, or did you intertwine your fingers with his absentmindedly when you accepted the promise? Perhaps, it was him who took initiative and laced his fingers with yours?

Blood rushed to your cheeks when Baji gave your interlocked hand a gentle squeeze. 

“You should be careful” You muttered “Don’t move your fingers too much, they’re still wounded”

“I know, but I couldn’t resist” Baji grinned as you shyly averted your gaze from him, trying to pay no mind to his teasing.

“But I will be much more careful from now on. Gotta at least try and stay alive if someone cares about me that much” He mused, his deep honeyed voice making you feel butterflies in your stomach. Usually, you would try and hide the way he made you feel. You’d grin back at him and tease him back. On a different day, you would have told him off, but after the rollercoaster of emotions you have gone through, you didn’t want to bite back at him. 

“Yeah, you better” huffing, you carefully disentangled your fingers from his “I do care for you. Immensely, actually” You added in a quiet, soft tone before reaching to grab the antiseptic ointment. 

“Careful, this might burn a bit”

Baji’s smirk has softened. Intently, he watched your face as you worked to disinfect his wounds. A low hum escaped his lips as your skillful fingers ghosted over his face applying the antiseptic ointment. While he felt a slight burning sensation, Baji enjoyed the tender touches. 

“I know you care. You care so much you even ordered me to stay over and washed my shirt” 

Heat rose to your cheeks upon hearing Baji’s teasing remark. You were hoping he wouldn’t bring it back up, but one glance to Baji’s eyes, free of resentment and bitterness, told you that he wasn’t trying to make you feel uncomfortable. Yet, you remained silent, not knowing what to reply back, or rather, too embarrassed to say anything back to the ravenette. 

“I know I’m an ass sometimes. I’m impulsive, loud; I have a sharp tongue and I like weaponizing it, but I can’t even begin to explain how grateful I am that you care for someone like me” 

“Yeah” You chuckled while carefully cleaning a wound on his cheek, your heart skipping a beat when you caught the tender look in his eyes “You might be an ass, but you are my favorite ass”

Baji hummed at your reply “Yeah? That makes me feel so special”

Sighing, you put the cotton away “You know” you started, your voice carrying a nervous tone as you tried to articulate your thoughts “I’m sorry for trying to boss you around. Of course you don’t have to stay over. I could look inside my closet if I have a baggy shirt I could lend to you to walk home in-”

“No, I’m staying”

The firmness of Baji’s voice caught you off guard. Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow at your injured friend “You really don’t have to. I don’t wanna force you to stay here”

“Yeah I know, but I want to stay. I want to stay over, because I know you want me to stay. I don’t wanna worry you much more than I already have”  

You let out a groan as you heard Baji out, frustrated at the guilty face he made “Hey, I don’t want you to think that you are a burden to me in any shape or form. I have no right to make you stay if you don’t want to, you are not obligated to stay over just because I threw a temper tantrum earlier”

“I get that” Baji watched as you sat down next to him after putting all the utensils back into the first aid kit “But I understand where you’re coming from. I know I would be furious at you if you were hurt and refused help from me. I know I would chain you to bed so you wouldn’t wander off and get hurt again” 

“Baji-”

“It’s Keisuke” He rolled his eyes at your slip up, unable to hide his frustrations with you any longer “Listen, I do owe it to you to stay. If staying over is what will bring you peace of mind, I’ll stay. I care that you care for me so much”

And that was all the reassurance you needed from him. Baji went out of his way to make sure you wouldn’t worry too much about him; the way that he understood your anxiety regarding his health and wellbeing and tried to ease your mind made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Thank you” You muttered while you leaned your head against his shoulder.

“No, thank you. Thank you for always being there for me” Baji whispered back, his hand soon finding its way to your hair. A satisfied hum escaped your lips when you felt him play with your hair.

“You don’t have to thank me. Caring for you comes naturally to me. It’s like a fish swimming, or a bird flying. I love caring for you” I love you.

“And I love that you care for me so much. Makes me feel really special” Baji said when his fingers played with your hair, careful not to tug too hard on your strands of hair.

“You already said that” You chuckled at him “You already said that me caring for you makes you feel special. Although” You moved your head to look at him, a teasing giggle leaving your lips “I don’t quite understand what I do to make you feel  so ‘special’ though”

Baji’s lips quirk into a grin as he turns his head as well and looks you deep in your eyes. And just like that, you were a prisoner of his earthy brown eyes. It’s as if the ground moved beneath your feet and swallowed you whole. The low light in your living room gave him an ethereal glow, and to you, he looked like the most perfect person.

“Hmm, it’s many things you do actually. You deal with my bullshit, like cleaning my wounds way past midnight. You laugh at my corny jokes, you cook from me from time to time” He chuckles “Although, your cooking skills are kinda lacking”

You scoffed at his teasing “I know I’m never going to be a Michelin star cook, but you always eat everything I make for you”

“I know. I would eat anything your golden hands would make” Baji hummed, leaning in closer to you. 

“You know, I love it when you look at me like this” He mumbles as his breath fanning over your lips. Your stomach was in knots, the proximity between you and him made you feel so damn dizzy. A tiny voice inside your head begged you to lean closer to him, to finally taste his lips like you’ve always wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to bridge the distance. The rational - and perhaps shy - side won pretty quickly, so instead of making any moves on him, you hoped he would kiss you.

“How do I look at you?”, you asked in a whisper, daring him to finally say what you have waited for for so long: A hint on how he truly saw you. 

Baji’s hand reached to hold your face, no longer playing with your hair “Like I mean the world to you” He purred, his voice smooth like satin “You look at me as if I hung the stars and the moon. As if there is no one but me in the room”

“But there is no one besides you” You exclaimed, unable to stop yourself. Like a dam with cracks, you were bound to spill your feelings to him, and no force would hold back the flood. 

“And you do mean the world to me. To me, you might as well have hung the stars and the moon” you breathed shakily. You haven’t said it directly, yet you already felt like you have spilled your guts out to him “You are so incredibly important to me”

“I know, and I hope you know that I care for you just as much” Baji leans in closer, his nose touching yours “In fact, I think I might care about you than you do” He muses, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You felt as if you were on fire. It might have been the need to know if your best friend returned your feelings or not, it might have been the adrenaline you felt from feeling so close to him, perhaps you wanted to tease him back or it might have been a combination of all of the above, but you promptly challenged him “So you must love me then”

Baji’s other hand, the one that wasn’t already touching your cheek, gently cupped your face and leaned in closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours “I do” Baji mumbles, drunk of your smell and hungry to taste your lips “I love you” he breathes out before gently capturing your lips with his. 

Time seemed to slow down when his lips collided with yours. You were hoping for a hint, a clue on how he feels for you, so getting a confession and a kiss from the man you have loved for the longest time made you feel emotional. 

You wasted no time and returned the kiss eagerly, lips molding over his softly. Closing your eyes and moving your arms to carefully wrap themselves around his neck, Baji responded by turning his body towards you. His hands soon found their way towards your waist, his fingers softly gripping onto you. He didn’t want to let you go, he didn’t want to pull away or or even shift into a more comfortable position; not when he was busy summarizing every little detail of your lips. From the softness, to the taste, to the shiver he felt running down his spine when you moved your lips against his, he wanted everything engraved in his brain for the rest of his life. 

Breathlessly, you pulled away from Baji. You were mentally cursing out your body’s need for air when your soul craved to melt with his. A deep hum escaped his lips when he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I take it you like me back” Baji mumbled as he looked you deeply in your eyes. Despite it sounding like he was stating a fact, you couldn’t unhear the slightly questioning understone. You chuckled and brought your hand to his cheek, gently cupping it while your other hand remained on his neck.

“I don’t just like you” You muttered as you stole a quick peck from his lips “I love you too”

Baji let out a satisfied groan upon feeling your lips on his again “Then kiss me properly” He didn’t even waste a second and crashed his lips with yours, unable to wait for a reply back from you. While the first kiss was sweet and slow, this kiss felt raw and urgent. You felt so shy feeling his passion, but who were you to turn down a steamy kiss from Baji Keisuke?

So without thinking too much, you returned his kiss with fervor. Addicted to your lips, Baji would soon pull on your hips, his strong grip making you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Come sit on my lap, pretty girl” Baji whispered against your lips “Come on, sit on my lap” He demanded in a deep, sultry voice when he felt your hesitancy. Heat crept up your face and you looked away from his handsome face. His cheeks were tinted in a lovely red, the thin sheen of sweat made him look like he was sparkling in the dim light of your living room. 

“Hey” Baji tenderly held your chin and turned your face to look at him. You could still see the fire of passion in his half lidded eyes, but there was also restraint “Am I going too fast for you?” He asked before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“No, it’s not that. I just feel a little….shy” You whispered the last part. If Baji didn’t have such a firm grip on your chin, you would have tried to look away and hide your flustered face. 

“Shy?” Baji mused, a smirk creeping up on his lips “What you gotta be shy for? We confessed to each other, didn’t we?” 

“I know, but it’s just so sudden. My brain has barely registered that you like me”

“Nuh-huh, I didn’t say that I like you. I said I love you” Baji corrected, chuckling “But don’t worry, I can go slower if you’d like that. I just want you to feel comfortable around me”

That seemed to do the trick for you; despite still feeling flustered, a rush of excitement spread over your body and overpowered your initial shyness. Who would have thought that Baji ensuring you that your comfort coming first would turn you on so damn much?

Feeling bold, you eyed his toned torso. You didn’t know if it was weird or not, but you liked looking at the bruises on his body; seeing his naked upper body littered in cuts and bruises just made you feel so hot. 

“You could never make me feel uncomfortable” you whispered when you shifted closer to him, lips grazing over the now purple spot on his chest. 

Baji groaned when he felt you kiss his wound, feeling both pain and pleasure from your tender kisses. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled as he felt your lips travel lower and lower, kissing each and every bruise and cut.

“I’m kissing them better” You replied back, humming as the taste of his sweat hit your tongue. You looked up from him, still kissing your way over to the very last wound, the one right on his pelvis. 

A guttural growl rumbles from his chest as he took in the view in front of him: The woman he loved so much - desired for the longest time - kissing along his torso. Baji’s pants felt so tight when he saw the longing, lust filled gaze you looked at him from beneath him. Baji just wanted to lay you on the couch, rip your clothes off your body and make you his, but he knew that wasn’t the way he wanted to fuck you for the first time. He wanted to be soft and loving, worship every inch of your body and show you just how much you meant to him. 

So he placed his hand on your head, stopping from going any lower “Lay down pretty. Let me make you feel real good” 

You felt so weak to your knees when you heard his deep and husky voice, dripping with lust and hunger. The way he looked at you, eyes half lidded and full of love, made you feel so incredibly hot and bothered. Trembling, you obeyed and got up from your sitting position and laid down on the couch, impatiently awaiting his next move. 

He laid on top of you, caging you between his strong arms. You were surrounded by him - his arms holding you in place, his toned body laying on top of you, his strong musk, his bulge pressed against your thigh…You felt so delirious when you breathed in his scent, smelling a mix of cologne, shampoo and sweat. 

“Pretty” Baji breathed out when he leaned in closer to you. His breath fanned over your face as his lips kept an agonizing distance. So close, but not nearly close enough to still the intense fire of desire that burned within you. Garnering all the confidence that you could gather, you cupped his face and kissed him - a kiss he was all too eager to return. And when his tongue mingled its way inside your mouth, you put up no fight to deny him entrance; instead parting your lips so his wet muscle could explore your mouth. 

You were too engrossed with the kiss, busy remembering the taste of his lips to notice him repositioning himself. Before, his arms caged your frame, making it impossible for you to get out of what’s to come. Now, Baji shifted so he was being supported by just one arm, while his now free hand allowed him to explore other parts. 

Your eyes shot wide open when you felt his fingers lightly graze your naked thigh. Baji’s light, almost shy touches send waves of anticipation to your pussy. Even though you wanted him to trail his calloused fingers upwards along your thigh to your throbbing clit, even though you wanted to feel him pushing his digits inside your pussy, you knew that he wouldn’t do any of that unless you give him the go ahead. 

Baji felt your growing hesitancy and pulled away from the kiss. Open mouthed, the raven haired man pushed himself away from your lips, only a string of saliva connecting your lips to his before it broke. Labored breaths left his lips as he watched you lay underneath him, his hand still on your thigh.

“What’s wrong?” His voice smooth and deep like fine wine, he asked. His eyes never left your face, trying to figure out your thoughts and his next actions. You chew on your lips as you were confronted with two possibilities: slow down or tell him exactly what you want from him. Somehow, the decision didn’t seem so hard to make. 

So you held his gaze and smiled as your hands took hold of his belt.

“Nothing” You whispered, unbuckling his belt as you felt his fingers still caressing your thigh “You don’t have to worry about me. I want this, I want you.”

“Yeah?” The seriousness in his face melts into a light grin. Baji*s lips met your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin as his fingers inch closer to your pajama shorts “How badly do you want me?”

You let out a content hum “I’d say I want you almost as badly as you want me”

The man let out a snort as he heard your bold claim. Still, he didn’t stop his gentle assault on your neck “Ah, I doubt it.” Baji murmured, his fingers finally having hooked under the waistband of the pajama shorts before he tugged them down “Baby, that’s a hell of an assumption you’re making. I don’t want you” Baji let out a ragged breath as he finally pulled your shorts down “I need you”

Baji’s skilled fingers immediately traced your outer lips in a slow, teasing way before he dipped one finger inside your pussy.

“Look at you, you’re soaked” Baji grinned as he pushed his finger deeper inside, placing tender kisses on your cheek “Tell me when it gets too much, yeah?” 

Softly pumping his finger in and out, Baji was careful to be slow and gentle with you. The man was in no rush, so he took his time riling you up. A fortunate graze against your velvety walls left you moaning and shuddering, letting Baji know he’s found the spot he was looking for. 

“Feels good, baby?” your lover asked lowly, eyes trained on your face to detect any signs of discomfort. However, to his delight, he didn’t see any at all: instead his eyes were graced with you, sweaty, panting and eyes half lidded, and fuck does he feel get himself harder by just looking at your lust drunken state.

“Hng, never felt this good” you managed to whimper out. A satisfied chuckle left Baji’s lips.

“Yeah? Gonna make you feel so so good” The usually rough man leaned closer and began to gently kiss and bite the shell of your ear “I’m gonna have to add another finger. Gotta stretch you out nicely for me. You ok with that, right?”

Your pussy fluttered at the thought of getting stretched out by him. So you nodded your head and begged him to add more fingers “Yes, please. Wanna feel more of you” you whimpered as you felt his second finger, his middle finger, ease inside your fluttering hole. Once fully inside, Baji didn’t waste time,switching between curling and pumping his digits. 

Your pussy swallowed his fingers. If it was with anyone else, you’d feel sheer embarrassment from the squelching sounds and your arousal practically coating his whole hand, his leg and the blanket under you, but you didn’t. Not with your beloved Baji, the only man that could make you forget shame and focus on feeling good.

His free hand sneaked under your pajama shirt, playing with your erect nipple while his fingers worked you towards your orgasm. Your moans were music to his ears, but the way you eagerly sucked his digits in made him wanna hear the sounds you’d make when you’re cumming. While he was still knuckle deep inside, Baji’s thumb began drawing tight circles on your throbbing clit. 

Your moans grew more frantic, the pleasure overwhelming all of your senses. Buckling your hips into his hand, you chased after your orgasm. And before you knew it, the coil inside your tummy bursted, sending waves of pleasure all across your body. A strangled moan left your lips as your orgasm washed over you. 

After he’s helped you come down from your high, Baji pulled his fingers out of your still twitching hole with a satisfied grin on his lips. 

“Felt good?”

“Felt amazing” You hummed, watching him as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at the taste “Do I taste that good?” 

“Mhhh, why don’t you see for yourself?” 

With that, Baji crashed his lips against yours. You didn’t resist when you felt his tongue on your bottom lip, allowing him entrance. His tongue explored every corner of your mouth, allowing you to taste your own juices. Baji’s hand moved away from your nipple, instead grabbing onto the hem of your shirt. The ravenette pulled away from the kiss. Your head was spinning from the lack of air but you missed his lips on yours already. 

You understood what he wanted and pulled your pajama shirt over your head and threw it away, not caring where it landed as long as he was still on top of you. Baji’s eyes drank in the sight of you, bare and needy for him. Calloused hands gently kneaded your moundsas he placed a hot kiss on your lips.

“‘s that all for me?”Baji groaned against your lips “Gosh, you’re so damn pretty, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t mind if you’d tell me so more often” chuckling, you returned the yearning kiss, moaning softly from his touch.

“Yeah? I’m gonna tell you every day” Baji’s kissed your neck downwards “gonna remind you every day how perfect you are for me” 

His lips soon found your bare breasts, sucking and biting on your soft flesh. Baji carefully cupped your tits in his big hands before his mouth latched onto one of your nipples. Desire pooled between your thighs again. You wanted him, and you wanted him now. 

A small giggle left your lips. Your fingers combed his silky black hair away from his face, tucking his locks against his ears “I’m perfect for you? And they say love is dead”

You felt him gently bite your sensitive bud, grazing the hardened bud with his sharp canines before he let go. “In every way possible, yes. You are perfect for me” Baji mumbled against your chest. 

Your heart fluttered at his declaration. Somehow, this rough, impulsive man managed to make you putty in his hands. And you knew you were in it too deep because you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your hands sneaked away from his hair, traveling between your hot bodies and stopping at his pants. His bulge was still firmly pressed against your thigh and you wanted to free his dick from its confines. 

“Can I?” You asked sweetly, fingers gripping his belt, waiting for Baji to give the green light. Of course he would allow you. 

Baji lifted his head from your chest, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he heard your request “I don’t know” He mused “Can you?” and before you could pout or tell him off, he quickly added “Go ahead. Been waiting too long to have you already”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Swiftly, you undid his belt and tugged his pants and underwear lower. Baji helped you in getting rid of his remaining clothes. The ravenette readjusted his position and lifted himself up before discarding pants and shorts to a random corner of your living room. 

Finally, no barriers, no layers between you and him. You wanted to feel him, badly.  Not being able to think properly, your hand wandered lower, tracing along his abs to his pelvis before you firmly took hold of his dick. Baji shuddered at your touch. Your fingertips barely touched as you wrapped your hand around his girthy cock. The stretch is gonna be deliciously painful. Your mouth watered at the thought of it. 

Deep moans bubbled out of the ravenette’s lips, his eyes pressed shut at the feeling of your hand pumping him. Your hand stroked him with vigor, touching his cock from base to his leaking tip. God, you wished you could lick up all of his precum, but you knew there would be another time for sucking him off. Right now, playing with his pretty red tip and smearing his pre all over his tip would have to do.

However, he didn’t let you stroke him for too long “Baby, I’m not gonna last long if you keep on stroking me like that” Baji groaned “Wanna fuck you nice and slow” The raven haired man nestled his face into your neck, kissing the bite marks he gave you earlier.

“That is, if you let me” he moaned lightly as your hand stopped stroking him, retreating as he had requested “You sure you wanna do this?” your lover inquired. Despite his genuine concern, you saw the spark of desire in his brown, half lidded eyes, ready to be unleashed. You firmly nodded your head, unwilling to deny him or yourself of the intimacy the two of you craved for so long. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you, here and right now” 

That was all he needed. Baji wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock and slowly guided the tip inside your clenching hole. Moans and whimpers bounced off the walls of your living room as Baji slowly pushed his throbbing cock inside you. The stretch was overwhelming your senses; tears formed on your lower lash both from pain and pleasure. 

Your lover stopped pushing himself inside you, instead his hand wiped away the single tear that escaped your eyes. 

“You ok?” the raven haired man asked in a soft and worried tone. Your vision was blurry from the tears, but you could perfectly envision his furrowed brows and the concerned look in his eyes. Wiping away the tears, your predictions proved to be right. You knew him well, after all. 

“‘m ok, it’s just a lot” Baji caressed your warm cheek and you leaned into it instinctively “You can move now. I don’t want you to stop until you’re fully inside”

The tension left his face as soon as you gave him the go ahead. Baji’s hand never left your face while he pushed every inch inside your pussy, caressing it lightly and soothing you. How sweet of him. 

Once he bottomed out, Baji waited until you’ve adjusted to his size. He didn’t have a reputation of being patient, and although your walls clung to his dick so deliciously it drove him wild, Baji didn’t dare move until he knew it was fine for him to move. Oh the things he does for love.

You on the other hand weren’t feeling patient. You tried moving your hips against his but failed miserably when you didn’t feel the friction you were hoping for. Amused by your desperation, Baji watched your attempts at humping his cock with a wolfish grin. 

“And here I thought I was being a gentleman for being patient” He laughed heartily “That’s not gonna get you off baby. Lay back and let me make you feel real good, alright?” 

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, relaxing underneath him and letting him take control “You know, that does sound nice” your sentence got cut short by the sudden snap of his hips. Baji set a slow, comfortable pace. Not too fast to overwhelm you too soon, but also not too slow to bore you. Perfect for love making. 

Your moans and his grunts along with the soft squeaking noises of the couch bounced off the walls of your living room. His sweat drenched body collided with yours over and over again, his cockhead occasionally hitting your g-spot. He’d feel the way you’d clench harder around him, the way your eyes would roll back and the louder whimpers leaving your lips when he’d hit the right spots. Baji was a very perceptive man, paying close attention to the movements that would entice such reactions and recreating them. 

He angles his dick, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Baji’s efforts paid off, the sweet moans growing more frantic and your velvety walls clenching around his dick so deliciously were his rewards. 

“You know, you look so damn pretty all worked up” Baji mused, giving your lips a yearning peck “But I need to see how pretty you look when you cum on my cock” With that, your lover supported his weight with only one arm while the other relaxed, hand sneaking between your bodies and playing with your overstimulated clit. 

You felt a tight knot building up in your stomach as Baji continued to fuck into you. His pace picked up, his fingers not leaving your clit until you’d come undone for him. All thoughts have left your head and you weren’t able to form a coherent sentence at this point. You felt so overwhelmed; the way he sunk himself inside you at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot with his cockhead, the way his fingers drew tight circles on your sensitive puffy bud, the way his body pressed against yours, the way his face contorted in pleasure, the way that despite him chasing after his release Baji made it a priority to make you cum too, the way your name left his lips like a prayer. It made the tight knot burst.

You cried out his name as you came undone on his dick, just like he wanted you to. You arched your back as the wave of pleasure washed over you, legs shaking at how hard you came. 

Baji couldn’t get enough of your fucked out face. His fingers stopped their assault on your spent clit, instead gripping your hip lightly. His movements stuttered, his own orgasm building up. Your walls clenched around him so tightly, begging to be filled up with his cum. With one last strong thrust, Baji emptied himself inside of you, feeling the warm embrace of your velvety walls milking him dry for all he’s worth. 

Your lover collapsed on top of you, spent from the physical and emotional release. Baji buried his face into the crook of your neck and kissed your tender skin while your fingers raked through his long raven hair. 

“I love you so damn much” He mumbled in between kisses “And I love being able to tell you that I love you. I love that you’re officially mine”

Warmth rushed to your cheeks at his admission of love. Despite laying naked under him, hearing Baji say that he loves you never fails to make you feel like you were on fire. 

You chuckled, feeling butterflies in your stomach “Officially yours? When did you ask me?”

A deep chuckle rumbled through him as you teased him “Don’t be like that. You didn’t mind when you were screaming out my name not even 10 minutes ago” Baji lifted his face from your neck, a sly smirk adorning his handsome features “You’re mine, and I’m yours” he ended with a sweet kiss on your lips. You held his face and kissed him back, feeling warmth spread all over your body as he stated his claim over you. 

The ravenette pulled away from the kiss and gently caressed your cheek “You know, I was also absolutely right about you looking beautiful when you come all over me” You wanted to scoff and tease him, but the soft, adoring look in his eyes made you reconsider. No traces of teasing. Baji really meant it. 

Instead, you collected yourself and asked “So, you said you’ll stay over, right?” The way you’ve said it sounded so soft to him, he too didn’t have the heart to tease you for the remainder of the night. 

“Mhm, gonna stay the night” Baji placed a small kiss on your forehead “Come, I’ll carry you to your bed”

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Oct 13th

~*~

1. hi i want to read fanfics in which lwj saves wwx and wens. thank you!

IF by Remma3760 (Not Rated, 94k, WangXian, QingJue, Aftermath of Violence, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, BAMF LWJ, Golden Core Reveal) LWJ immediately goes to the Jin camp, gets there first, & chooses to act to save the Wens

🔒 Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sick fic, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It) WWX & the Wens get sick & go to Gusu for help, & LWJ lets them in

~*~

2. Hello! Thank you for the amazing recs! Loving it! For the next In the mood for (hehehe I'm greedy), does anyone know any fics with Sect Leader Lan Zhan? Thank you! @lostandmessedup

🔒The Straightest Path by meyari (T, 30k, WangXian, NieLan, MingLi, ChengSang, war and death Grief/Mourning, Politics, plotting for neuroatypicals, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Non-Canon Relationship, I killed Lan Zhan's family, No Yīn Iron, Sect Leader LWJ)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Temptation by Karmiya (E, 23k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, WIP, Sect Leader LWJ, domestic abuse)

~*~

3. ITMF a) video game crossovers and b) fics where the boys playing video games is a big part of the story. 🎮 (Side note if a Stardew AU doesn't exist yet, someone really needs to get on that) @linderel

No A/B/O / Omegaverse, thank you

3A)

🔒 Season of Resurrection by Pyrrti (G, 1k, WangXian, Sky: Children of the Light Fusion, POV Multiple, Pre-Relationship, Reunions, POV LSZ, POV LWJ, POV WWX)

To Let It Bloom by Broken_Synchronicity (T, 2k, WangXian, WWX & Everyone, WIP, Modern with Magic, Stardew Valley Fusion, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WCZ & CSSR are still dead sorry, Family Bonding, WCZ & JFM are related, Farmer WWX, Librarian LWJ, Genius WWX, MXY Lives, Grief/Mourning, WWX is gonna solve world hunger or die trying, Slow Burn, Getting to Know Each Other, Tall WWX) Omg I can't believe I didn't pay attention to 3 because HEY I STARTED WRITING A STARDEW AU FIC NOT A WEEK BEFORE THIS POST 🤣

Yearning for a Star by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 18k, WangXian, WIP, Modern, Inspired by Stardew Valley, Omega Verse, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, Jealous LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Magic)

3B)

Dreams of Cultivation by mortuus_lingua (M, 97k, WangXian, XiCheng, SongXiao, Themes, LWJ Uses Actual Words, Nonbinary NHS, Nonbinary XXC, BAMF WQ, Modern AU, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Oblivious WWX, Protective JC, Cinnamon Roll WN, Developing Relationship)

5000 IQ hanguangjun gameplay scores him a boyfriend by orphan_account (Not rated, 5k, wangxian, streamer au, among us, getting together, identity reveal)

~*~

4. Hello, Itmf please 🤗

Want to read a scene where wq says to WY that jc won't be a good leader if lack of core breaks his will to leave. And blaming wy for lotus pier fall shows his lack of common sense and clear judgement. And maybe about choking and who will protect him afterwards? Like how can you trust this person as a leader and family member

Maybe about some ethics in wq.

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) Bonus: a core transfer doesn't happen but Wen Ning helps Wei Ying see how poorly he's been treated by Jiang Cheng in the second chapter

~*~

5. Hellour! This is for the next imtf,

Any fics where lwj's personalities just like flips? Maybe he gets hit with a curse or a talisman and suddenly those repressed lonely teenage boy is out in the open. It can be post-canon or in the cloud recess arc i dont mind. Any au works. (but no wip please! Or any time travel fics)

beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 12k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Confessions, Curses, Embarrassment, Vulnerability, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Honesty, Communication, beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot [podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea) )

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending)

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by thunderwear (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Truth Spells, Curses, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Post CQL, Getting Together)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining)

~*~

6. Hello, I wonder if there is some fic where Nie Huaisang is sect leader for some time. And I don't mean post canon or post Mingjue's death. I mean mostly when Nie Mingjue is alive and well but Nie Huaisang was made to be acting sect leader for whatever reason or temporary reason.

Wandering Eyes (That Nie Mingjue will gouge out if he notices, Father, STOP) by AstaraelWeeps (M, 14k, 3zun, NHS & JGY, time travel, fix it, scheming)

~*~

7. Looking for fic that treat Jiang Cheng as the complex character he is - Lynchpin is a fave because he's not "all good" just doing his best after learning some hard lessons. More of that kind of story? Happy ending and of course no JC bashing. @kimboo-york

Jiang Cheng Friendly / Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

The worth of a life with no regrets by SnowdropsAndDreams (Not Rated, 43k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Post-Canon Fix-It)

The crow, the owl and the dove by GoschateWabn (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sunshot Campaign, JC Needs a Hug, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Dynamics, Fluff and Humor, Protective JC, BAMF JC, BAMF WWX, Sect Leader WWX, Canon Divergence, Oblivious WWX, JC is So Done, No Golden Core Transfer, JC Has No Golden Core)

Drowning in the Sun by Zelos (T, 8k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Transfer, Canon-Typical Violence, Brotherly Love, Sunshot Campaign, Family Dynamics, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, 🔒 [Podfic] Drowning in the Sun by flamingwell)

❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

basically anything by Lise that has Jiang Cheng as a character but especially With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Road Trips, (terrible road trips), Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, ish, Awkward Conversations, POV JC, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (ish they’re working on it), [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

Listen to the Ocean (Hear it Break) by TheQueen (T, 3k, ChengQing, JC & WWX, WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Character Study, Unreliable Narrator, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Angry Grape Boy hurts everyone around him and himself, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Family Dynamics)

From Yunmeng, Unsent by isozyme (T, 5k, JC & WWX, epistolary, angst, canonical character death, nightmares, canon compliant)

JC and WWX’s Get Along Sweater series by newamsterdam (T, 29k, JC & WWX, Trapped In A Closet, Cultivation as Plot Device, Reconciliation, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Novel Spoilers, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Night Hunting, Ghosts, Action/Adventure, Brotherly Love, Complicated Relationships, Yunmeng Shuangjie)

~*~

8. For ITMF, I would like to read a post-canon fic where Jin Ling renounces his claim on the Sect Leadership of the Jin and instead becomes the Sect Heir for the Jiang. A focus on the politics and personal feelings/consequences at some point would be lovely. Preferably non-wangxian-centric and no JC bashing. Thanks! @jensownzoo

~*~

9. In the mood for fics where the juniors love WWX and he is a fun/good senior they love and look up to alot. Thank you! @stormblessed95

🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff)

Glow by Quiet_crash (G, 2k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Junior Quartet, JC & WWX)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror)

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Married Wangxian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, And his research assistant Lan ducklings, LQR is not a good educator, the kids are alright, WWX did online learning before it was cool)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & the Junior Ensemble, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, background wangxian, BAMF WWX, Humor)

your words upon my lips by uchiuchi (T, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, Curses, no sad times only good times, Canon Compliant, Romance, they are married!!, Let LWJ Say Fuck, Case Fic)

~*~

10. hi this is a itmf!!

hi fellow wangxian fic lovers at this point in the fandom i feel like ive read every good written wangxian fic out there im looking for any hidden gems you guys have im talking 10k hits beautiful plot or story anything that just immediately makes u kudos or bookmark it, it can be any au tags whatever im not picky i just ask for atleast over 10k words :))) @yesibest

i guess i'll have to change my plan by darjeelinh (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, First Time, Inspired by Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004), soft rom-com vibes, One Night Stands, but not really, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, they both have demi vibes in this fight me about it, Loss of Virginity, Misunderstandings, Separations, Reunions, wangxian canon Elopement™️ shenanigans, now with art) absolute love in first read

swallowing rocks, swallowing peach skins by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Angst, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Torture, Threats of Violence, Death Threats, Choking, Stabbing, Major Character Injury, POV LWJ, Smart LWJ, Smart WWX, Murder, Kidnapping, Gags, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, Drugs, Vomiting, Literal Sleeping Together, WWX Has PTSD, Food Issues, Sharing Clothes, Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Soft WangXian, Angry WWX, Caretaking, Food as a Metaphor for Love, the mortifying idea of being known, Suicidal Thoughts, Angry LWJ)

who cares when you're gone by camellialice (M, 22k, WangXian, background SongXiao, Hades (Video Game) Fusion, Canon-Typical Levels of Self-Sacrifice, Canon-Typical Levels of Spitting Up Blood, Canon-Typical Levels of Pining)

‘Let’s go home.’ by Crowgirl (E, 27k, WangXian, Coffee Shops & Cafés, LQR's Excellent Parenting, Meet-Cute, First Kiss, First Time, First Meetings, Pining, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Past XiYao, past emotional abuse, Past Emotional Manipulation)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

🔒take me home (where i belong) by scarletwanlian (E, 153k, WangXian, Slice of Life, Modern, College/University, PTSD, Trauma, Dissociation, Music, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Depression, Running, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Injury Recovery, mental recovery, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, AND sexual intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, and sleeping together, First Time, ace characters, also aro characters, and aroace character, Families of Choice, Car Accidents, Found Family, Flashbacks, Nightmares, gore elements somewhat, descriptions can get a bit gorey at times, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Healing, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt, Whump)

Who You Gonna Call? by Beltenebra (E, 15k, WangXian, Ghost Hunters, Modern with Magic, Minor ChengSong, Anal Sex, Paranormal Investigators, Mild Blood, Mild Horror, Ghosts, Demons, Fluff and Humor, Case Fic)

Légèreté by perkynurples (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern au, Horse riding, Swords as horses, Crack treated seriously, Friends to Lovers)

From the Ashes by mostlynonsense (travelingpsycho) (E, 83k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Found Family, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, IN SPACE!, Space)

🔒我拿青春赌明天 / I’ll wager my youth against tomorrow by tombenough_and_continent (T, 37k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Historical, Time Travel, ...they're time-travelling enemy agents writing each other love letters, Purple Prose, Enemies to Lovers)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Mystery, Secret Identity, Wishes, Magic, Canon, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, JGY Redemption, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Hairpins as a metaphor for love, Idiots in Love)

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Lovesong of the Square Root of Negative One by honeydrip (lmeden) (M, 55k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Modern, Blood and Gore, Elements of Horror, Elements of magical realism, Layered Narratives, A Story Within a Story, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Not Everyone Dies)

Scapegoat by FinallyGotTheInvitation (E, 276k, WangXian, Modern, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Death penalty, well not actually but there's threats of it, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn-ish they have a trial to get through, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral JC, Good Sibling JYL, Neutral LXC, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Smut, languid sex, Angst, Kissing, Neck Kissing, all other ways to say 'emotionally horny sex' ok, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream, porn in chapter 27, blowjob, slight breathplay, Size Kink, porn in chapter 29, Breeding Kink, sex wrestling, Tickling, WWX is a Brat, porn in chapter 30, Illustrations)

after hours by mellowflicker (E, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU Slice of Life, Age Difference, Older LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch LWJ)

~*~

11. I’m in the mood for fics with bodily possession. Just any fic where lwj or wwx are possessed or under control of someone or something. Thank you!

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not Rated, 59k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Nightmares, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds, Possession, Panic Attacks, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Good Sibling JC, Hurt WWX, Soft WangXian, Feels, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Delusions, JC Loves WWX, Insomnia, Good Sibling WWX, Sleepwalking, Sleeptalking, LWJ just wants to sleep with his husband, Protective JC, WWX Sees Dead People, LJY pulls through, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses, PTSD, Post-Canon, YLLZ WWX, resentful energy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, WWX is tired, LWJ literally just wants to sleep with WWX again is that too much to ask for??, Soft JC, Yunmeng Siblings Feels) in this wwx IS possessed by smth, I can't say what cuz it's a spoiler, just mentioning that it is almost like possession even tho the summary doesnt seem like it :)) enjoy

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda??, Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, 🔒 [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending) link in #5

Obedient and Bellicoseby thunderwear (T, 20k, Wangxian, Ella Enchanted AU, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, cursed LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good brother LXC, LQR loves his nephews you cant change my mind, LWJ crying, Protective LXC, Pining, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Brief Depictions of Violence, meaning at least one of the people you really want to get stabbed does in fact get stabbed)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) link in #5

🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

~*~

12. I'm asking for canon era fics with lots and lots of hugs between the juniors and Wei Ying. I don't care if the ducklings are grown ups or just little babies. Probably please both types. Just nothing below 40k please. @constellationdks

~*~

13. Can you find me fics where cultivation sects gets punished for their unfairness. All sects gets punished not even Lan and Nie are left out.

~*~

14. Hey, itmf for fic post Wei's supposed death scene where Lan Zhan is punished (those beatings from cql) and then spends his solitary confinement in the cold cave. I am mostly interested in fics with depressed Lan Zhan who refuses to speak to anyone and/or gives up on his duties afterwards and just wastes away in that cave (instead of whatever he was supposed to be doing during those three years). It can even have suicide attempt or running away attempt. Thank you.

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ) ARGH! I know I've read several fics that fit for 14 but cannot find them for the life of me! The only one I found that comes close is chapter 5 in A Life Without Regrets where Lan Wangji reflects on choosing to live for A-Yuan after his punishment in his first life (it's a time travel fic).

~*~

15. hi! this is for itmf. do you perhaps know any fics that focus around lwj's insecurity or fear that he's becoming like his father or something of the like? :") thanks!

the year of drought by idrilka (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pining, Getting Together, Wedding Planning, Letters, Instructional Use of Gay Porn)

how do i forgive myself (for losing so much time) by thunderwear (M, 26k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid Fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition, of sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, yunmeng bros reconciliation, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pining, read end notes for warnings, Post-Canon) Lan Wangji's fears about being like his father are also a small part at the end

~*~

16. Hello! For the next ITMF does anyone knows fics where Wangxian adopts Lan Jingyi? @lostandmessedup

if i had the strength by agloeian (M, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Fix-It, somewhat of a case fic, Heaven Official’s Blessing inspired gods & ghosts, No Spoilers for Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mild Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, WWX is not in a great place for a lot of this fic, He Gets Better Though!, this fic is all about learning to give yourself the help you give others tbh, Baby LJY, recovery fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

~*~

17. For ITMF, I'm interested in what people's favorite Lan Jingyi-centric fics are. Doesn't have to be from his POV, but he should be the focus. Any ships or no ships are fine. Thanks! @jensownzoo

anyway, here’s wuji by kakikaeru (T, 18k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

you are my chosen family by jinyinhua (T, 14k, LSZ & LJY, wangxian, LJY & LSZ & LWJ & WWX, 5+1 Things, Good Kid LJY, Good Kid LSZ, Blood and Injury, Night Hunts, Drinking, Age Regression/De-Aging, Married Wangxian, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics)

Why Not Me? by Eleanor_Fenyx (G, 26k, LJY & LQR, LQR & LWJ, LJY & LSZ, LJY & LWJ, good uncle LQR, LJY pov, war orphan LJY, character study, LJY has ADHD, found family, rejection sensitivity dysphoria)

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Podfic by SeaNoodle) LJY gets possessed by the Yiling Patriarch

The Special Hell by MedeaWasRight (E, 73k, JC/LJY, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief, implied eating disorder, Implied Bulimia, Vomiting, Drowning, JC runs a water park, Developing Relationship, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Mourning, LJY is the best Lan, peril in water, Reconciliation, Hospitals, physical assault, references to children in hospital) For a Jingyi-important fic, modern au, try this one from MedeaWasRight. It’s a 2nd part of a series, but it can be read as a standalone.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[absolutebl]

We've had recent disappointments with the endings to series. For me, Last Twilight, Only Friends, and 23.5 stand out. While I loved the Sign to the end, there was that unexplained Tharn getting his freedom from Chalothorn, which made the very ending not quite perfect. And while I loved Century of Love all the way through, I know some folks were disappointed at the ending.

What are some QLs that you consider to have really strong endings?

OOOO what a great question!

10 BLs With the Strongest Endings

Some BLs had better endings than the rest of the show deserved, and some were saved by the ending, while still others built up to a good ending throughout. So I suspect it kinda depends on ones definition of strong. But here are mine (you'll never guess what's at the top? but...) it's in no particular order

Seven Days - no but ACTUALLY think about it. That ending is truly phenomenal. It ties everything together, gives hope for their relationship without being cheesy AND is crazy romantic, plus it brings the narrative full circle. That ending shot, the direction, the plot, the characters, and the story ALL tied in a neat little bow. It ends by indicating that something is starting for them, something familiar it's just now they are together. Fabulous.

Light On Me - on the beach, the whole friendship group, the kiss that mirrors their couple habit of cheek squiging? Peak YA BL. It reminded me of Make it Right, and that's no bad thing... for me.

Our Dating Sim - domestic boyfriends and then the pan over to all their couple photos. So exactly them.

To My Star - yeah, the sex scene, but remember this was when we finally realized that JiWoo not only liked him all along but actually desired him all along. The tsundere character breaking open for us to see the soft underbelly. Suddenly, all of his behavior made sense in retrospect. They used the final ultra romantic sex scene as a CHARACTER REVEAL. Fucking genius.

Semantic Error - the BOYFRIENDS of it all, the harken back to both the anime and the manga (with that spank bank file), the teasing and then the breaking of the forth wall. It was multiple cheeky punches out to the audience in a tiny stinger of a scene. Not to mention it had a kind of BL "ending fairy" thing that connected to them both being idols. Perfectly executed.

Love For Love's Sake - back in beach territory but wow. I mean this show starts with an ending. And it takes a lot for me to believe in the happiness of a parable about death and self worth. They managed it with this show. But that ending was killer.

My Beautiful Man - the ending made me reassess everything about the show, the story, and the characters. The ending made me love the show. It changed my mind. It BLEW my mind. I might have kinda lost my mind. In real time.

Unknown - there were struggles with this show and not everyone enjoyed the ending but I totally flipping loved it. FINALLY. You can't tell me that "you don't even know what I dream of" line doens't live in your head rent free.

Unintentional Love Story - not the ending scene so much as the whole final episode, it's so good. It brings the story together, we get multiple big realizations, sad baby, learning that baby was abused too, defending baby, baby defending himself. RINGS!

The Eighth Sense - so much peak boyfriend after so much angst. The casual language play and teasing, the stealing of the drink, just everything, and also how very very college it all is.

10 Others I just LOVE

Be Loved In House: I Do - ultra pasteurized cheese fest

Laws of Attraction - THE CAPED WEDDING OUTFITS

About Youth - rainbow kiss cheese fest

Long Time No See - BLOOD COVERED KISSES

Restart After Come Back Home - the pan around lens flare kiss and everything it MEANS

Bad Buddy - It was so CLEVER

DNA Says Love You - the claiming and then the tussle at the cafe? Gorgeous. Adorable. No notes.

Oh! Boarding House - a family gathering while the dads are holding hands behind the couch, adorable

Where Your Eyes Linger - that damn glow up

Tinted With You - perhaps... poly?

Wow... so few Thai BL. I guess this is Korea's strength in the BL sphere? Also more Japan than I expected and outsized rep for Taiwan. (I actually could have stuck a few more from Taiwan on here but they just get SO CHEESY.)

(source)

dated mid August 2024, not responsible for great endings after that date

[jinnie-ret]

maniac

cyborg!bang chan x reader

genre: angst, slight horror, some fluff

content warnings: abandonment, scientific experimentation, mentions of implied death

word count: 2k

summary: when he finds a baby abandoned, lonely, left to suffer in this dystopian world, he swears to become it's protector.

requested by: @lovingchan

this is an origin story part of the Oddinary House universe which you can read here! you may or may not see some appearances from the other characters from the series 👀

1K FOLLOWERS PLAYLIST 💚🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Not even the fleeting touch of the soft breeze caressing his cheek could make Bang Chan feel human again. He had lost himself long ago. That wasn't who he was anymore. Now, and forever more, he was CB97. Half cyborg, half human, he was a failed experiment abandoned to the hands of nature's unpredictable ways.

The tall, moist blades of grass swayed lazily against the bare skin of his numb legs. Slender willow trees loomed over him, a circle of gracefulness encompassing him in a shaded cloak. Even with the natural entities drawn towards him, CB97 remained in a dreamless sleep, less alive than the plants.

It wasn't his fault that his dreams were stolen away from him.

His youth was stolen away from him. Bang Chan was an aspiring idol, so eager to join JYPE with his talents; singing, rapping, dancing, playing the guitar and playing the piano, that he was quick to get that flight to Seoul from his home Sydney. Why wouldn't he be? He had already attempted to enter the K-pop world at the age of 13, but once he turned 16 his parents finally agreed. Unfortunately, they would come to regret that if they knew of what had transpired.

Sucked into a web of lies, Bang Chan had stumbled into an illegal experimental facility, an organisation attempting to unite all living creatures into one thriving species - or at least that was what he had overheard under the influence of a strong anaesthetic. Really, it was a dangerous test playing on the boundaries between humans, animals and technology. Everything that had happened to him was built into his hard drive, permanently etched into his new and improved working memory. If he was conscious and chose to scan his own database, he would be able to find the audiovisual remnants of how he was treated.

"Welcome to the future, CB97."

Future? He didn't have a future. He had nobody, nothing.

"It's eyes... I told you we needed to insert more circuits into-"

"It's still human!"

"If you hadn't backpedaled on creating an actual robot-"

"This was a much more efficient way! We keep the brain and we rewire it as we see fit. I told the whole team from the beginning of the rules! This is how we run the experiments around here."

Experiments. Ah, yes. Plural.

A cacophony of sounds had awoken CB97 when he was wheeled into a sterile room, three blank white walls and one glass wall. Multiple of these rooms lined the dimly lit corridor, nameplates along with 'EXTERMINATION' were stuck on the windows of each failure. First, he failed to become an idol, and now, he wasn't even good enough to be a test dummy?

In his assigned space there was nothing to stimulate his brain, just a plain, old chair for him to sit on. The days dragged on monotonously, whether it was the slamming of huge beasts throwing their bodies against their enclosures, deep, gravely growls, haunting shrieks or the droning of the execution buzzer. He didn't feel a thing. He didn't even have an ounce of dread hollowing away at the pit of his stomach knowing it would be his turn soon. Maybe, deep down he knew that it would be different for him.

"We can't dispose of CB97 like the others, it's still too humane, they'd be able to trace this all back to us!"

Different alarms had been blaring at that time. Urgent beeping and scientists running back and forth with files and trollies containing test tubes with concerning colours.

"Then we leave it where no one will ever find it."

Deserted. Isolated. Alone. He still remained in the same place he had been left. When he had felt sunlight hit him again for the first time in what felt like centuries, he had awoken. Bang Chan, not CB97. He cried, he sobbed, he screamed in anger at the way fate had led him. His soul had been dealt the cruelest punishment. His nervous breakdown horrified the cruel, cowardly scientists who had to transport him to the middle of nowhere. They had desperately scrambled away at the sight of the tumultuous sparks of electricity emanating from their experiment. They were lucky to escape. He wasn't.

Almost as if the last part of humanity was being drained from within him, cables dug themselves into the dry, cracked soil, intertwining viciously with tree roots and tying him to the same spot for the rest of his life.

Two years. That's how long he had been asleep for. That's how long it had been since his body shut down on him. Never to wake again was the most likely outcome.

"She's not a normal baby, she's this, this horrible thing!" a woman screamed, a bundle in her arms.

"We needed the money!"

"And look where that got us!"

"Then leave her here, already! No one... No one has to know..." a man pleaded desperately with his ex partner.

"I know! I know, what you did, to her... to us! You ruined everything!"

Crying. Sobbing. Screaming. It was a familiar pattern in rare occasions such as this, yet Chan was still unresponsive, until the wails of a baby caused an involuntary jerk of his leg.

Abandoned. Like us. Must analyse.

System rebooting.

As if they had a life of their own, the branches of the trees that cocooned Bang Chan withdrew from his awakening figure. His eyes flickered open, feeling the electricity course through his brains as his programmed instincts went into overdrive.

Scanning surroundings. Being identified.

It was a child. They were just like him, left to rot and succumb to whatever was thrown at them next. CB97 was able to analyse the situation at hand, whereas Bang Chan knew he had to help.

With a loud yell he stood to his feet, dirt exploding into the air when he rigidly took one step forwards.

Move closer for further identification.

Was he fortunate to not feel any tension in his body after not moving for years? Was he lucky to have not felt the aches in his joints and the cracks in his bones as he approached the newborn.

Not a newborn. Estimated age is 1 year. Appears to be a grindylow.

A grindylow? What on earth was that? Vaguely in the back of his mind CB97 saw a memory of reading the Harry Potter series, that same word appearing. So he must have been somewhat knowledgeable on what the creature in front of him was.

Grindylows are water demons with large horns, pale skin, long arms and feet, sharp teeth and scaly skin.

Ah, that must have been the Wikipedia installation.

Bang Chan approached the wailing baby whose cries instantly stopped once they were lifted into the air. Oddly enough, the young grindylow didn't seem to mind the way it was awkwardly held, Chan's arms outstretched in front of him at a 90° angle and his hands supporting the child from under their arms.

Features appear to be undeveloped.

"You have growing to do, little one," Bang Chan blinked at the child in his stiff arms.

Round, shining eyes gazed sweetly at him, tufts of hair messily sticking up in the air. A pout soon faded away at the feeling of contact with another creature, the grindylow feeling safer than ever as they giggled at the stoic expression Bang Chan wore.

Error. Behaviour not processing.

"You can stay."

Were cyborgs able to feel a sense of accomplishment or fulfilment? Was CB97 less present when caring for another? Was Bang Chan allowed to feel content for even a moment? Here he was, aware, raising his own, sort of, child.

---

"I think I'll call you Nelly."

Nelly babbled excitedly, their fangs coming through stronger now as they gnawed on a piece of bark that Chan had retrieved.

Teething stage recognised.

---

Baby is crying. Nelly, upset. Must stop.

"I don't know what you need," Bang Chan fussed, rocking Nelly in his arms as he searched for a reason why they were so distressed.

"Ah. I think you need water," he nodded once, and promptly launched Nelly out of his arms and into the swampy lake nearby.

He had no need to question why he had done what would otherwise be seen as a cruel and unimaginable act. He knew what his child needed.

Nelly, happy. Task complete.

---

In a rundown district of Seoul, a muscly man with glitter sparkling from his skin huffed in frustration.

"He needs healing but I cannot enter his dreams. I don't have enough time to help him myself. I need to check on the communities in our neighbouring district first. I sense a broken soul I can help but I need you two do to this for me."

"I'm in."

"Got you covered, Binnie."

---

Water time is over. Nelly needs feeding.

"Nelly! I have food for you!" Bang Chan called, brows furrowed in concern as he traipsed the edge of the lake, careful not to get too close in case he fatally harmed himself and his system.

Splashes in the lake caught his attention, as well as the sound of delighted snuffing and teeth grinding together. That was his Nelly, alright.

Heat vision on. Nelly detected. One new grindylow detected.

Is that why they were so happy? They found another one of their kind? Bang Chan hadn't seen such strong emotion in Nelly since the time he had reprimanded them over them recklessly luring a poor human boy to the lake. This was a much better sight, better sound to hear them the previous whines when Nelly had lost claw privileges.

"Nelly. You and your friend can come out and eat! I found some- Nelly?" Bang Chan called out again when Nelly popped their head out, breaking through the surface of the water. Why did they have a sad look on their face? Why were they swimming away? The lake was huge it wouldn't be safe.

Why wasn't Nelly coming back?

"Nelly..." Bang Chan looked down, sadness overwhelming him.

System overload. System shutdown.

---

Nelly didn't return. Chan had rebooted a day after their disappearance, having a reason, a purpose to be awake. He searched around the lake everyday, but piles of uneaten food he had gathered stayed neatly in organised stacks in the foliage by the lake. He switched between different settings, both in his surroundings and his vision programmes. Normal vision, thermal detection, movement scanner. He caught nothing.

Flying objects incoming.

Flying objects? But grindylows couldn't fly could they? Unless Nelly had found their way back to him? He could question them once he was reunited with them! Once he sees Nelly again he can-

It wasn't Nelly.

Bat approaching. Fairy approaching.

Right in front of his very eyes, a bat and a fairy landed down on the tree stump opposite him before morphing into more human forms. That was Nelly's seat.

"You must be CB97. I'm Yang Jeongin, head of Oddinary House. This is Felix, my friend. We've been looking for you for a while now."

"You can come with us now, we'll help you."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @his-angell @turtledove824 @2minstan @amararosesblog @ikykwkleeknoww @lixie-phoria @briqnne @linoalwaysknows @royal-shinigami @jolly04 @yangbbokari @thisrandomgoofy15 @lieslab @hannamoon143 @arumlilyeclipse @katzline @kiwihrt @skzoologist @lovingchan @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @lilmisssona @astraysimp @theo4eve

[softxsuki]

Hey, hope you're doing great! Can i ask an urgent request, a jjk x fem reader where the reader is left in a vegetative state after a mission, all them seeing her for the first time in intensive care with multiple tubes going in and out of her while she was fighting for her life in a coma, and like when she wakes up she's clueless the first days, struggling to say what she wants or express any emotions because she's unable to talk (and move also) Hope it's not a burden to you <33

Megumi, Gojo, and Itadori With S/O Who's In A Coma After A Mission

| Pairings: Megumi x Fem!Reader, Gojo x Fem!Reader, Itadori x Fem!Reader | Genre: Hurt Comfort, Angst | Post-Type: Headcanons | Word Count: 1.07k |

Warnings: mentions of death (no one actually dies), past character deaths, despair, crying (in itadori's), reader in a coma

Note: Hello <3 Happy New Year. I actually really enjoyed writing this one. One of my fav jjk posts so far 0.0 hope you and anyone else that reads it also enjoys it! And I hope your situation with your family has improved <3

Megumi:

Megumi is in shock as soon as he finds out you’re in a coma after your recent mission

You had assured him you’d be okay, and in that moment, regret fills him for not pushing to be there with you

He’d already gone through this with Itadori years ago when he thought he was dead after that one mission they were on together, and now here you were clinging on to life, one of the most important people in his life

He was scared he’d never see you awake again, yet he remained calm on the outside, coming to the hospital to visit you everyday

You were in the same hospital as his sister, who was also in a coma, so he was also able to visit her more often while you were there

The two most important women in his life were practically lifeless on hospital beds, it killed him

However, hope filled him one day when he saw your fingers fidget and he immediately ran to get a doctor–you were waking up

Confusion fills you as soon as your eyes open, you can’t quite put together where you were, the last thing you remembered was fighting that powerful curse before everything went dark and now you were in a room surrounded by people in white coats

The doctors had just finished removing your breathing tube since you were finally stable and conscious 

Megumi feels his shoulders lighten as he sees your eyes open, you were alert, which was a good sign

He takes a seat beside you, the chair he’d been glued in since he found out you were in a coma and takes your hand to let you know he was there as the doctors started their examination on you to make sure you were doing well

The next few days are tough on you as you struggle to move or speak due to going so long without doing both of those things while in a coma, but Megumi is by your side the whole time helping you out

He spends his every waking moment by your side, taking care of you until you’re back to your normal self

Gojo:

Like Megumi, Gojo is also worried of course, but that worry doesn’t show on the outside

Yet everyone around him knows something is wrong because he’s unusually quiet and doesn’t joke around anymore, he’s become very serious

He was the strongest in the world, yet couldn’t do one simple job and keep you safe? He was beyond disappointed in himself

There was so much responsibility on his shoulders that the elders threw on him, but they didn’t dare request him during these weeks while you were in a coma

Gojo was unstable and there was no telling what he’d do if anyone pushed him too far, so he spent his time visiting you, and continuing to teach and train his students, the only two things he could find the energy to do, but all solo missions were at a standstill

Even after you awaken, Gojo still isn’t himself, his attention is now fully on your recovery and making sure the doctors are doing their utmost best to make sure you recover fully

The thought that he was so close to losing you just like so many of his other friends and colleagues terrified him, he felt unworthy of his title of the strongest, but moving forward he’s even more protective of you after seeing how easy it was to almost lose you

So after you’re released from the hospital and sent back home, finally able to speak and move around again, Gojo is on high alert

He feels paranoid that something will happen to you again so he pushes back his missions and has the elders give them to other sorcerers in the meantime so he can watch over you

It kills you to see him this way so you’ll have to do your best to persuade him that you’ll be fine and safe, he can’t spend his whole life glued to your side, that’s no way for him to live

So it does take a while to persuade him to continue his work, but he makes sure to keep you heavily guarded while you’re still in recovery

It will take a while before he’s back to his usual self, just give him some time

Itadori:

Itadori is probably the most visibly impacted one after hearing the news that you were in a coma after your latest mission

He’s another one who has lost countless people and felt responsible for not being strong enough to protect them, and now he couldn’t even protect you

He’s distraught, silent tears falling from his eyes as he makes a promise to exorcize the curse that did this to you

If he wasn’t by your side, he was out on the streets eliminating curse after curse, waiting for the moment he’d come across the curse that put your life in danger, he wouldn’t be going easy on it

It kills him to see all those tubes connected to your body, you looked so fragile, like any tiny gust of wind will have your heart monitor flat lining at any given moment, he was terrified 

He experienced too much loss already, if he lost you as well, he’d never recover

So when he receives a call from your doctor, he’s already running to the hospital before he even picks up the phone

You were awake

Tears of relief fall from his eyes when he sees for himself that you are in fact awake–your eyes on him as he enters your hospital room, eyes he thought he’d never see again

He collapses at your side, pulling you into his arms, almost scared that if he let go, he’d never see you again

The weeks of your recovery go smoothly with Itadori by your side though, he listens to everything the doctors say and helps you get back on your feet, literally

Walking became difficult for you, so he became your cane

Even talking hurt your throat, but he’d speak for you until your throat healed up andyou could speak again

He was incredibly attentive and caring during the next few weeks of your recovery and made a vow that nothing like this would ever happen to you again so long as he was alive and by your side

And that was a promise he’d keep forever

Posted: 1/1/2024

[rubydubydoo122]

As much as I hate to say it, and as much as I love Jason ToddI'm gonna need DC to kill him again, and keep him dead this time.

Now before you come at me, let me explain why I think this. Jason Todd is a character that while alive will always be connected to Gotham, and because of his differing morals with Batman, he will always be in a cycle of conflict with him. We saw it in UTRH, we saw it in RHATO, we saw it in Gotham Wars. Because Jason isn't a villain (I feel like in UTRH he was an anti-hero, and any actions that didn't align with the morals he set during that time is because he was villainized by Batman) Bruce's actions feel overtly brutal (batarang to the neck, beating him so har his helmet broke, chemically altering him to feel fear) especially since it's towards his SON the one he claims to have mourned. It's a vicious cycle that isn't fair to Jason, and it's major character assassination of Bruce. It's overdone and I am sick and tired of it, but I do not see either characters backing down from their moral stances.

Now you might be thinking, just because Bruce and Jason don't get along doesn't mean they can't make up-- they've tried. Multiple time. Every time Jason and Bruce take a step in the direction of being close to each other again, Bruce becomes a control freak and abuses Jason like he's his own personal punching bag, and there's only so many times someone can forgive someone before enough is enough.

But I still haven't explained why specifically I think Jason should die again. And it's because of two reasons. Jason deserves peace, and as long as he's a ghost walking on earth, he won't be able to get that. Also because it would make Great Angst. We all know Bruce would break if he lost Jason again. He's going to push everyone away, and if you're going to have Bruce push everyone away, give him consequences for his actions.but we saw how protective Dick got during Gotham Wars. Just imagine Dick walking up towards Bruce and saying, "It might've been my fault last time for not picking up his calls, but this time, you can't deny that this, is all your fault." "How dare you! He was my son!" "You lost him once, and when he came back you treated him worse than any of the loonies in Arkham. You don't miss him at all. You only feel guilty because of your goddamned savior complex. You only treat him like your son when he's dead."

and while we're at it, maybe Tim can have a complete crisis. He had to pick up the pieces of Bruce in the aftermath of Jason's death last time, and look where that got him. All of his friends and family died. He was never truly recognized for guiding Bruce out of the dark, and we all know that Tim is one inconvenience from killing a bitch. Maybe this is it. I actually think it would be hilarious for Tim to take up the Red Hood mantle, Only to screw with Bruce. Because he knows that's what Jason would've wanted.

Have Damian afraid of what Bruce has become in guilt. Have Damians castle of worship for his father come tumbling down, because Damian always knew his father loved all of the previous Robins more than him, and if his father no longer wanted them, what was stopping Bruce from sending him back to the League.

Like DC if you're going to use Jason as a catalyst for an event, kill him off again. last time it was on a whim. This time, do it on purpose. This time, give his death a purpose. This time, make sure his death changes something, because god, Bruce has fucked up so much.

[alygator77]

alright, now that I have sat on this ending a bit I’d like to express my frustrations with this manga—this is entirely my own opinion, you have every right to disagree with me if you do, just please be respectful.

spoilers ahead.

it’s just… what was the point…the theme of JJK? can anyone please tell me? like honestly, I would really like to know what you think it was, because I feel like there were so many plot points that were introduced, and they led no where.

look—as a new writer I know it ain’t easy, I am still a novice and I’m not trying to completely disrespect geges writing. obviously there are some things he did right, otherwise this manga wouldn’t have gotten as popular as it did—I’m just so disappointed that this story feels so… empty. It’s shallow. It’s action with shock value—that is all this manga is to me, because everything gege built up to amounted to nothing.

the story starts with yuji talking about “proper deaths.” lol. lord the fucking irony. yet, satoru doesn’t get a proper burial. look… death is a big thing in Japan. they dedicate literal shrines to their loved ones. the disrespect for satoru as a character is so disgusting to me. we see yuji preemptively “mourn” him in a flashback—but not when the guy is actually dead?

this is not how real people are—real people mourn death. I understand everyone grieves differently—hell, yuji felt weird mourning his grandpa in the beginning, but you’re telling me no one gives a fuck? no ones gonna say anything? talk about how he’s gone? what he sacrificed? yuta got out of his body and…that’s it? we don’t know where tf it is or what happened to it.

nobara mourned yuji when she thought he was dead back in the beginning, and she barely knew him then—so what, everyone just hates satoru? the guy that literally cared so much for his students? the guy that was willing to completely overthrow a system just for yuta and yuji because he cared so much for their youth, their happiness?and yet, even they don’t acknowledge his death?

there were multiple chapters that just ended on some sort of cliff hanger or introduced a new side plot—giving the readers something to keep them interested, only for it to amount to nothing. yuta in gojos body—what was the fucking point of that? It accomplished nothing. It was just shock value. what was the point of these last 3 chapters?

look I don’t hate angst, and I’m all for tragic characters—satoru is definitely a tragic character—but god, there is also some tact in handling it. his character is amazing, yet the way he was executed in the end is just so fucking sad. especially considering he’s one of the most beloved characters in the fandom. this literally felt like a big “fuck you” to us satoru fans.

I could literally write an entire book about how unhappy I am so I’ll just stop there…

I’m so upset.

[helenofsparta2]

I think Percy Jackson and Will Solace were friends before, during and after The Last Olympian

Warning: this post has absolutely zero right to be as long, as it ended up being, and is, at times, quite chaotic and not as well structured as I would like it to be.

A take that I’ve seen in this fandom in the past few months, both on TikTok, and on Tumblr, is that Will and Percy have a strained relationship after the battle of Manhattan, and specifically, after Michael Yew died during the battle at the Williamsburg bridge.

Now, I understand that Michael's death adds complexity to their relationship, and that it offers a lot of potential for angst, especially in terms of creating a tragic connection between Will and Nico. I'm not trying to invalidate that interpretation of Will. Since he’s a minor character in the original series, everyone naturally has their own take on him and his emotions. So, this is not a claim to the truth, this is simply me providing a different interpretation, in which Percy and Will have a more positive relationship, because I absolutely adore the possibility of their friendship.

(Considering the fact, that Will had very little screen time in The Last Olympian, this will involve a lot of speculation, and comes obviously from a biased view, even if I try to mostly base my interpretation on the text, that we do have about him.)

There are four aspects I want to primarily focus on:

The relationship Percy and Will might have had before the battle of Manhattan

The incident at the Williamsburg bridge & the circumstances surrounding Michael Yew’s death

Will’s characterization shortly after that incident

Will’s possible view of Percy during and after The Last Olympian

The relationship Percy and Will might have had before the battle of Manhattan

Now, Will’s first appearance in the PJO universe was in the last Olympian. So, this point is obviously mostly speculation, and based more generally on the relationship Percy has with the rest of camp, and less on Will as an individual character.

But based on that, I personally think there are two facets to their relationship.

Will and Percy being friends

Percy being generally seen as a leader of Camp Half-Blood

Friends:

To understand the relationship Will and Percy have, I think it’s important to consider the dynamics in camp half-blood at the beginning of the last Olympian. This was a group of around 45- 50 kids and teenagers, who had no place else to go, who faced discrimination everywhere else in the world, who already lost friends and siblings and who fought in at least one major battle together.

They grew up alongside each other, they fought together, they died alongside each other and they buried their friends together. They might have not always gotten along perfectly,, but it’s pretty safe to say, that they probably trusted each other more than anyone else in the world. There is a strong bond connecting all of them, Percy and Will included.  

Despite this, it’s obviously still possible, that Will and Percy had a more neutral relationship and didn’t interact much. That calling them friends would be a bit of a stretch, and that the only thing connecting them is this deep sense of comradery, which no matter how strong, didn’t accumulate to an actual friendship.

However, we do know, that Percy at least considers the rest of camp, Will included, his friends. He calls them that on multiple occasions all throughout The Last Olympian:  

As I looked at their faces—all these campers I'd known for so many summers—a nagging voice whispered in my mind: One of them is a spy. But I couldn't dwell on that. They were my friends. I needed them. (The last Olympian, chapter 9)

She wore the same kind of simple brown dress as she had before, but she was a grown woman now. I bowed. "Lady Hestia." My friends followed my example. (The last Olympian, Chapter 9)

I turned to my friends. They looked stunned and scared, and I couldn't blame them. (The last Olympian, Chapter 10)

I could have stabbed it, but I hesitated. This is not Mrs. O'Leary, I reminded myself. This is an untamed monster. It will kill me and all my friends. (The last Olympian, Chapter 11)

Too many of our friends lay wounded in the streets. Too many were missing. (The last Olympian, Chapter 15)

I looked at Pandora's jar, and for the first time I had an urge to open it. Hope seemed pretty useless to me right now. So many of my friends were dead. (The last Olympian, Chapter 17)

Grover and I cared for the wounded, and once the sky bridge re-formed, we greeted our friends who had survived. (The last Olympian, Chapter 20)

I thought about my friends from camp: Charles Beckendorf, Michael Yew, Silena Beauregard, so many others who were now dead. (The last Olympian, Chapter 20)

I specifically want to focus on this quote, which takes place during the battle at the Williamsburg bridge:

"Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them.'" (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

Here, he specifically addresses the Apollo cabin. No one else is present except for them, Percy, and Annabeth.

Obviously, we don’t have Will’s POV, but I personally see no reason to think this friendship wasn’t mutual.

Leader:

I’m going to keep this point rather short, because there is not much room for debate about the fact, that Percy was seen as a leader at the time ‘The Last Olympian’ takes place. He has accomplished a lot of incredible feats, and no one disagreed with him leading them during the battle of Manhattan. So, Will probably saw him the same way.

"But you're our leader." He smiled. "I am your trainer, your teacher. That is not the same as being your leader. I will go gather what allies I can. It may not be too late to convince my brother centaurs to help. Meanwhile, you called the campers here, Percy. You are the leader." I wanted to protest, but everybody was looking at me expectantly, even Annabeth. (The last Olympian, chapter 9)

The battle at the Williamsburg bridge

Now, to focus on the battle at the Williamsburg bridge, and especially Will’s POV during it. This was certainly an emotionally charged situation. A popular interpretation here is, like I said, that Will’s and Percy’s relationship would become strained after this battle, and more specifically after Michael’s death.  I actually argue that the opposite is true. I think, that Will's opinion of Percy improved after this battle.

Let me explain.

Will was, I think, around 13 or 14 years old during the battle of Manhattan and probably terrified.

(Please take his age with a grain of salt. I have this information from the fan wiki, which likes to be wrong at times and on top of that, we can never truly trust Rick Riordan’s timelines and character ages.)

It was his first battle in that book. And a really bad one at that.   Will was at the Williamsburg bridge together with the rest of his cabin, and they were completely overwhelmed. Roughly 10 campers were up against an army of 200 monsters. They didn’t have their flying chariot. They had already shot most of their arrows. Hope was dwindling and at least one Apollo camper had already gotten killed by a hellhound.

Then, in their hour of greatest need, Percy and Annabeth arrived.  

I really want to try to get into Will’s head here, and think about what kind of impression Percy must have made on him during this battle.  

There are two aspects, which I think are really important to consider:

The first one is the fact that Percy always fought at the front lines, and even told the Apollo cabin on multiple occasions to stand back, while he faced the enemy alone or only with Annabeth.

The first thing Percy did when he arrived at the battle was to tell Michael to form a defensive line, while he fought alone against the minotaur, and then later against 199 enemy monsters (. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. (The Lats Olympian, Chapter 11)

Later, when Kronos arrived, Percy told them again to retreat, while he and Annabeth held off Kronos, and his guards, consisting of around 40 demigods and 20 monsters (The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. Our archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding. "Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them.' (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

Because Percy did this, and risked his own life, no other Apollo camper died on that bridge, aside from Michael. He saved the entire cabin with that strategy, and seeing Percy face the enemy army alone must have really invigorated a sense of trust in him from Will and his half-siblings.

The second aspect, would be Percy’s fighting abilities

I don’t think I can reiterate enough how absolutely insane, Percy must have seem like to his fellow campers in this battle alone.

He easily,and I mean easily, defeated the minotaur

Because we have already seen Percy kill the minotaur when he was 12, and because we see how fast he defeated him now, it’s easy to forget that that beast is still the minotaur. One of the most dangerous monsters in greek mythology, which has already killed several other halfbloods at this point in time, and probably also at least one Apollo camper. (Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces. I realized they were Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods. (The Last Olympian, chapter 11)

He fights 199 monsters, and demolishes them without receiving a single scratch

I sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. I slashed and stabbed and whirled, and I might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh that scared me as much as it did my enemies. (The Last Olympian, chapter 11)

He goes toe-to-toe against Kronos himself

He dismounted, his scythe glistening in the dawn light. "I'll settle for another dead demigod." I met his first strike with Riptide. The impact shook the entire bridge, but I held my ground. Kronos's smile wavered. With a yell, I kicked his legs out from under him. His scythe skittered across the pavement. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

He destroys the bridge, forcing the enemy to retreat

I stabbed Riptide into the bridge. The magic blade sank to its hilt in asphalt. Salt water shot from the crack like I'd hit a geyser. I pulled out my blade and the fissure grew. The bridge shook and began to crumble. Chunks the size of houses fell into the East River. Kronos's demigods cried out in alarm and scrambled backward. Some were knocked off their feet. Within a few seconds, a fifty foot chasm opened in the Williamsburg Bridge between Kronos and me. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

I think the psychological effects of seeing Percy in action here are really underrated. Before this moment, Will probably started to believe they had no chance of winning the war. But this battle marks a turning point. Yes, the titan army had a huge advantage in numbers, legendary monsters like the Minotaur, and actual titans on their side. But in this battle, Will and the other campers must have realized what it really meant, that they had Percy Jackson. That they had someone who could go toe to toe with the strongest of the titan army and come out victorious. Someone who would come when they called for help. Someone who seemed impossible to kill.

However, afterwards, this whole fight gets overshadowed by Michael’s death.

Michael’s death:

Obviously, Will grieved for Michael. He’d already lost Lee the summer before, and who knows how many other half-siblings. Seeing his brother die in such a way could definitely lead to resentment, no matter how unfair that resentment might be. However, the key word here is could. It's important to consider the context of this scene. One point that often gets overlooked is that Will also saw Percy’s reaction to Michael’s death—and everything leading up to it.

He heard Michael tell Percy to break the bridge. ("Percy, the bridge!" he called. "It's already weak!"(…) "Break it!" Michael yelled. "Use your powers!" (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

He heard Percy yell at Michael to get out, before following through with his plan (The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspensions cables a few yards away from me, His last arrow was notched in his bow. "Michael, go!" I screamed. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

He saw Percy search the wreckage of the bridge for Michaels body afterwards (I turned to thank Michael Yew, but the words died in my throat. Twenty feet away, a bow lay in the street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen. "No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge.( The Last Olympian, Chapter 11))

He heard him scream out in pain after not finding Michael. (Nothing. I yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness. The Last Olympian, Chapter 11)

He heard Percy tell the rest of his cabin to continue searching for Michael, despite the fact, that they could be needed in other battles, for the slim chance, that Michael could still be saved, or at least buried properly (I grabbed Will Solace from the Apollo cabin and told the rest of his siblings to keep searching for Michael Yew. The Last Olympian, Chapter 12)

Obviously, it’s still possible, for Will to blame Percy. Grief makes people act irrationally. Especially kids, who are already traumatized and fighting in a war.  However, Will’s actions and characterization afterwards make me personally doubt that.

Will’s characterization afterwards:

Shortly, after Michael’s death, Percy and Will drive together to their base to save Annabeth’s life. This is how Will acted once they arrived:

Will and I pushed through a crowd of Athena kids. Will unwrapped Annabeth's bandages to examine the wound, and I wanted to faint (…) Will Solace exhaled with relief. "It's not so bad, Annabeth. A few more minutes and we would've been in trouble, but the venom hasn't gotten past the shoulder yet. Just lie still. Somebody hand me some nectar." I grabbed a canteen. Will cleaned out the wound with the godly drink while I held Annabeth's hand. "Ow," she said. "Ow, ow!" She gripped my fingers so tight they turned purple, but she stayed still, like Will asked. Silena muttered words of encouragement. Will put some silver paste over the wound and hummed words in Ancient Greek—a hymn to Apollo. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 12)

From this bit, we can say that Will seems completely focused on healing Annabeth. He doesn’t bring up the battle or Michael, and he doesn’t react in any way badly to Percy. He simply tries his best to save Annabeth’s life.

I especially want to focus on this little sentence:

“Will Solace exhaled in relief. “It’s not so bad Annabeth.”

This sentence shows us, that Will himself was worried about Annabeth. That Will wanted to heal Annabeth.  He wasn’t some paralysed, poor kid, whom Percy forced to leave his siblings behind and heal Annabeth. He was a healer, who pushed down his own emotions to prioritize helping and healing his fellow campers, and who consciously decided to focus on the battle and problems at hand, and deal with his grief later.

His behavior afterwards supports this characterization. Even after he made sure, Annabeth survived (and completely exhausted himself with that effort, might I add), Will continued to focus on how to best treat his fellow campers.  

The healing must've taken a lot of his energy. He looked almost as pale as Annabeth. "That should do it," he said. "But we're going to need some mortal supplies." He grabbed a piece of hotel stationery, jotted down some notes, and handed it to one of the Athena guys. "There's a Duane Reade on Fifth. Normally I would never steal—" "I would," Travis volunteered. Will glared at him. "Leave cash or drachmas to pay, whatever you've got, but this is an emergency. I've got a feeling we're going to have a lot more people to treat. (The Last Olympian, Chapter 12)

Aside from that, I would also like to shortly consider Will’s POV regarding Percy during the rest of the war.

I imagine that for a healer, like Will, who saw one injured demigod after another, seeing Percy completely uninjured, fighting and fighting and fighting, killing hundreds of monsters all on his own, barely allowing himself to take a break, while attacking a drakon, and fighting enemies like Hyperion, must have been like a beacon of hope in a way. Like a reminder, that they could actually win. That he wouldn’t lose all of his friends. A sign to not give up.

Percy’s promise from the gods:

Another thing, which I think is quite consequential to consider to judge the relationship between Percy and Will, is Percy’s demand from the gods.

I could see Will becoming bitter, had Percy wished for something for himself after they had won the war. If Percy had become a god, while the rest of camp received no prize whatsoever and if the death of his siblings had meant nothing in the long run, I could see Will starting to resent him.  

However, Percy wished for nothing, which solely benefitted himself. Annabeth received the chance to redesign Olympus, Grover became a lord of the wild, Tyson received a weapon, but Percy received nothing like that. The only thing he wanted was the reassurance that the war, Will has lost so many of his siblings on, and which had forced him to grow up so fast, could never repeat itself. The reassurance, that Lee’s and Michael’s and everyone else’s sacrifice was not in vain.

No one can tell me that this did not mean a lot to Will and only strengthened their relationship to each other.

 Post The Last Olympian:

My last point is this moment from the beginning of the lost hero:

“Annabeth!” A guy with a bow and quiver on his back pushed through the crowd. “I said you could borrow the chariot, not destroy it!” “Will, I’m sorry,” Annabeth sighed. “I’ll get it fixed, I promise.” Will scowled at his broken chariot. Then he sized up Piper, Leo, and Jason. “These are the ones? Way older than thirteen. Why haven’t they been claimed already?” “Claimed?” Leo asked. Before Annabeth could explain, Will said, “Any sign of Percy?”  (The Lost Hero, chapter 3)

Will was the first person to ask about Percy out of everyone else present and didn’t even wait for Annabeth to answer Leo’s previous question.  That doesn’t really sound like a person asking about a guy he resents, or feels neutral about. To me at least, it sounds like a guy who is worried about a friend.

That’s at least my interpretation of their relationship, up until this moment. (Though again, I am quite biased, because, I really love their friendship potential)

[moonlightpetalz6]

When You're Gone (Part 2)

Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna, Choso

Reader: Fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, readers death, violence, blood, swearing, pet names, fire

Context: The reader ends up dying due to sorcerers, and villagers. This is their reaction after you are gone. (Witch!reader for Sukuna)

Word Count: 4,677

a/n: Sorry this took a bit to post! I really got into writing these three!

Part 1

______________________________________________________________

Toji

Toji sighed as he walked into the abandoned building where he was supposed to meet with Shiu. 'What a pain.' Toji thought, interested in something other than what Shiu had to discuss with him. Toji was considering skipping the meeting altogether if it wasn't for you. Toji smirked at the thought of your shy smile, ready to hear your sweet voice scold him for zoning out while your colleague was trying to discuss business with him. The memory brings a slight chuckle to his throat as he places a hand behind his neck, letting out a loud yawn as he notices Shiu standing there. Alone. 

Toji hums, stopping a few paces in front of the detective. "Hm? What, did little Miss Tiger decide to skip out on us today?" He teased, knowing you hated the nickname he had assigned you due to your stern personality. Shiu just stared at the assassin with a sad look as he sighed deeply, taking the cigarette out of his mouth. "That's actually why I called you out today…." He tossed the cigarette on the ground, Toji watching as he stomped it with his foot. "As of three days ago, Y/l/n Y/n was killed in her home by a wanted sorcerer she had was assigned to," Shiu said while making direct eye contact with Toji. 

"What?" Toji asked, his eyes narrowing as a frown adorned his face. Shiu just sighed, knowing that Toji didn't believe his words. "Y/l/n Y/n is dead." Toji's fists clenched as he went and roughly grabbed Shiu by the collar, his face inches from the detectives. "Quit yer fucking bullshit and tell me the truth. Cause I ain't finding this joke funny." Toji growled, his neck flexing as a vein appeared on his right temple. Shiu didn't back down as he stared at Toji with serious eyes. Toji clicks his tongue as he tosses Shiu away before turning on his heel to leave the building. "Fushiguro!" Shiu called out, not having finished everything he wanted to say to the assassin. Toji ignored him as he pulled his phone out angrily, dialing your number and pressing it to his ear, waiting for your voice to pick up on the other end. 

The number you have dialed is not available; please-

Toji cursed quickly, hanging up the phone as he continued to call your number multiple times. "Fucking brat answer the phone." He hissed, walking past numerous people on the streets. Just as Toji was about to call you again, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face from the corner of his eye. Toji stopped in place, his phone now resting at his side still open as he stared at the TV inside a small store. There was a news channel with a small picture of you with the caption, 'Local woman found dead in her apartment. Cause of death: a giant hole through the chest.' Toji's mouth opened slightly, his eyes wide in disbelief. 

Once your picture was no longer on the screen, Toji cursed to himself as he quickly returned home. Once home, Toji slammed the door as hard as he could, not even bothering to turn on the lights before throwing everything in his line of sight, trashing his apartment as he yelled multiple curses. 

_____

Days have passed since Toji was hit with the news of your horrible death. Your funeral was two days later, but Toji never went. He refused, thinking that if he went and saw your name on one of those damned stones, every person he came in contact with would be killed on sight. It wasn't like the two of you had been dating for long, about a year, to be exact. Toji had many girlfriends and flings before meeting you, so he never cared when they would turn up missing or disappear without anyone knowing. However, when it came to you, it was different. What Toji felt for you was similar to when he lost his wife. 

Toji sat on the floor of his apartment; broken items littered the room as the lights remained off. A slight glow lit up the room as Toji saw his phone ringing. He lifted it to see Shiu's contact appear on the screen. Growling in annoyance, he flipped the phone on, pressing it to his ear. "What?" He snapped his voice slightly horse from having yelled so much before. "You sound awful. Have you been taking care of yourself at all?" Toji groans as he presses his thumb and pointer finger to his eyes. He applies pressure as he rubs them, feeling how tired his eyelids are as the dark circles slightly appear from the phone's light. "Get to the point. I'm in no mood." He grumbled while pulling another cigarette from his pocket. 

"You weren't at Y/n's funeral." Shiu was blunt and to the point, causing Toji to grunt as he placed the stick between his lips. "So what? I don't need to make an appearance around people who I never fucking saw once around her." He spat while patting his pockets to find his lighter. It wasn't entirely an excuse. When Toji and you started dating, he had never met anyone who claimed to care for you. Shiu didn't say anything momentarily, causing Toji to furrow his brows in annoyance. "Anything else?" He growled, not wanting to be on the phone any longer. "We're still looking for the man who killed her. I promise Toji he will be found and punished." Shiu claimed with total confidence. Toji's eyes narrowed as he listened to those words; scoffing, he tried lighting the cigarette. "Oh, you're damn right he will be…. I'm going to fucking kill him. That's my promise." Before Shiu can say anything else, Toji hangs up, tossing the phone randomly. 

Toji sits there; brows furrowed in annoyance as he flicks at the lighter, growing increasingly agitated with it not working. "Tch. Fucking useless-!" Toji goes to throw the lighter but stops when he notices what one is in his hand. He freezes, staring at the small item, remembering when you had given it to him as a gift. 

____

You and Toji were out discussing business when it suddenly started to rain down, causing the two of you to get soaked as you ran for cover. The two of you sigh as you watch the rain fall from where you now stand, soaking wet. "Geez! The forecast said nothing about rain!" You whined angrily, scrolling through your phone as you double-checked the weather. Toji grunted as he ran a hand through his hair, watching the water droplets fly off. "I should've packed an umbrella…." You whispered in thought, brows furrowed, a slight pout on your lips. Toji internally chuckled, finding your expressions amusing. 

You were always frowning or having some angry tick whenever something didn't go as planned, or you would get mad, which caused him to love teasing you every chance he could. "Well~ well~ it looks like miss organized and plans ahead failed once again~" He teased, a sly grin on his face as he went and pulled out a cigarette. You looked at him, eye twitching as he placed it between his lips. He looks down at you curiously before grinning, one brow raised. "Got something to say, tiger?" He questioned, raising his lighter. You click your tongue, looking away from him. "As if I would have anything to say to such a rude man!" You scoffed, earning a chuckle. 

It went silent between the two of you. The only sounds heard were the falling rain and the clicking of Toji's lighter. You glanced up, noticing the annoyed look on the taller man's face as he grunted, trying to get it to light. The two of you stood like that momentarily before you thought of something. “One moment, Fushiguro! I'll be right back!" You announced suddenly, running to the convenience store across the street. Toji stood there, confused momentarily, before trying the lighter again. After a few more tries, he curses, tossing the small contraption to the ground and taking the cigarette out of his mouth. 

He watches the convenience store waiting for your small form to appear in the doors. When you finally come out, he takes notice of the umbrella in your hand as You quickly run across the street, standing in front of him again. You look at him, a small pant leaving your lips as you hold your fist out to him. He looks at you curiously but complies, holding one of his giant hands out for you. You place the lighter in his hand, surprising him with the sudden gesture. "You didn't have to do that tiger." He mumbled but still went and used the lighter for his cigarette, nodding in approval. 

You just laughed, placing a hand behind your neck as you smiled, a slight blush on your cheeks. "Well, consider it as my apology gift to you!" You laughed shyly. "Apology? For what?" He mumbled, leaning back against the building under which you both had taken shelter. You just smiled a bright smile, a blush coating your cheeks as you held a finger up to your lips as if telling him not to spill a secret. 

"For forming a crush on you of course!" 

_____

Toji sat there, eyes covered by his messy bangs as he gripped the lighter. "Damn tiger…" He cursed as he forcefully tried to flick the lighter on again, this time not stopping as his body began to shake. “Fuck Y/n….” He looked up with tears running down his face as he bit the cigarette as hard as he could. 

"Come back and declare your love for me over and over again, dammit." 

Sukuna

You were known as the witch of the woods. No one entered those woods fearing being cursed or killed in horrible, gruesome ways. However, that was far from the truth, as you were a sweet and docile woman who only wished to heal and create with your magic. You and Sukuna had first met when he had entered the woods in search of your magical abilities. When he showed up at your small hut in the woods, you were surprised, not by his fearful appearance but by his giant wound in his side, causing immense amounts of blood to gush out. Sukuna watched you quickly drop the items you were holding as you ran to him, your small frame inches from his intimidating one. He flinched as you placed your tiny hands around the wounded area, eyes scanning the injury with deep concentration. 

Sukuna frowned at you, not liking how you didn't cower in his presence or even acknowledge his fearful appearance. He roughly grabbed your hand with one of his own, pulling it up so you were forced to look up at his face, each eye holding a murderous glare. "Oi, pitiful witch of the woods. Who do you think you are to approach me like this?" He hissed, a voice filled with venom. You just looked at his eyes, showing no fear as you said nothing. You went and placed a hand on his wound, chanting in a language he was not familiar with. 

Sukuna watched as the wound healed faster than he could regenerate it. He hummed in amusement while looking down at you with a dark smirk. You just looked at him, your aura tense and powerful. "I am not afraid of curses." You declared a voice so elegant it made his ears ring. He laughed loudly, causing you to flinch at the sudden noise covering one of your ears in pain. Sukuna pulls you closer to him, faces inches apart as he looks at you with a deranged smile. "You're such an amusing witch of the woods…. It makes me want to play with you more before ending your pathetic and weak life." He laughed, looking deep into your eyes. 

Sukuna became enthralled by your talents, watching you cast spells he didn't know or ever heard of. You taught him some of the magic you knew over time, informing him of the repercussions of some of the spells. He would listen carefully, wanting to know everything if it meant his chances of gaining even more power. The two of you were complete opposites, so it was strange how you became so close. You never understood why a man filled with nothing but murderous and selfish intent could ever want with someone like you who wished for peace and never had any selfish desire. 

"We don't share much in common, do we?" Sukuna grunted one day when the two of you sat outside. You looked at him, tilting your head as you continued to mix some herbs for a new medicine you were working on. "You're just realizing this now, Sukuna-san." Your laugh was so soft that it made Sukuna feel a tingle in his chest. "Tch. Do you finally want to die?" He grumbled, giving you a slight glare as he flicked your forehead, his other arms crossed over his chest while the fourth one scratched the back of his head. You whine as you hold your forehead, a giant pout on your face. "So weak." He teased, "Like I said, not much in common." He shrugged, looking away from you to stare at the setting sun. 

"Indeed, we don't share much in common, but….there is one thing we will have until the day comes when we die." You whispered while placing a hand out towards the setting sun with a sad look on your face. "Oh? And what would that be?" Sukuna hummed, interested in your words, as he glanced down at you in wonder. Though small, Sukuna could see the sad and lonely smile on your lips. "The world'll hate us…never to be accepted for what we are." Your words took a moment to sink in for Sukuna. He hummed, his expression unreadable. 

Suddenly, he was placing both his right arms towards the sunset like you. "Even if that's true… I'll always accept you for what you are." He mumbled. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, lips slightly parted. He made no effort to look at you as his eyes stayed fixed on the changing colors in the sky. "Sukuna-san…" you felt your heart racing as heat started to sneak onto your face. Suddenly, he looked at you with an annoyed look, brows furrowed in confusion and annoyance as he went and hit your head. "Also, who the hell do you think will be dying?! Damn stupid witch!" He yelled, causing you to cry while he just shoved the herbs you had been mixing down your throat. 

_______

The king of curses couldn't believe his eyes and ears as he stood in place, body in complete shock. Down below him was a village just outside the woods he had grown to call home. There, in the center of said village, stood a huge crowd of angry and fearful villagers, each one cheering or chanting multiple curses into the air as they looked at the giant fire that rose into the sky, turning the once beautiful sunset view into a clouded gray sky. However, it wasn't the villagers that were causing the fear in Sukuna's heart and soul. Oh no. It was the screams of his lover, whose shadow was seen thrashing within the flames tied to a giant pole. 

"Stop it! Please! What did I do wrong?! Please tell me!" You cried from the flames. Sukuna's fists started dripping blood as all the blood vessels in each of his eyes burst. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You apologized to the villagers who relished in your pain and your suffering. He was seeing red. Before anyone could process anything, Sukuna was brutally murdering every one of the villagers, ensuring they didn't die without immense pain. His shouts and feral laughter were the last thing to curse their ears. Soon, the village was nothing more than a blood bath. Sukuna stood there, blood dripping from every part of his body as he looked down at the burnt body in front of him. 

He doesn't say anything as he kneels carefully, picking up your body with all four arms staying there, making sure your body is as close as possible to his as he grits his teeth before screaming into the sky cursing the entire world. 

_____

"Hey Sukuna, do you believe in soulmates?" You asked while reading from that mysterious book of yours. "Huh? Soulmates? I know I joke about you being stupid but I'm starting to think that you really are." He said, looking at you annoyed. You frown at him going and whispering a small spell, causing the tea he was drinking to spray up while he went to take a sip. You stand there, mouth covered with one hand, trying to hold your laughs back.

Meanwhile, Sukuna gave you the most sadistic look you could ever imagine, tea dripping from his face. "Y/n~" He sang in a deadly tune. You cringe as you cower in the corner, waving your hands in front of you frantically. 

"SUKUNA IT WAS A JOKE!" You cried while he stood there cracking his knuckles, a dark aura surrounding him. "I just wanted to see if you would help me with this old spell I found!" You squealed, bracing yourself for what was to come. When nothing happened, you peeked from behind your fingers. "Eh?" You asked confused. Sukuna just stood there looking down at you with a curious expression. "An old spell?" He questioned, bending down to your height and tilting his head in thought. "About soulmates?" You nod "mhm!" "You want to see if we're soulmates?" You nod proudly, arms crossed over your chest. Sukuna smirks as he watches his words slowly process for you. A deep blush covers your cheeks as you stammer over your words, trying to defend yourself while he laughs, finding the situation amusing. He rests his head on one of his fists as he crouches before you. "Then do it." He said, a cocky smirk on his face. "I wanna see…if you're my soulmate witch of the woods." You blushed tears from embarrassment in the corners of your eyes as you looked away quickly, getting everything you needed for the spell. Sukuna didn't move; he just stayed in place, watching you place all the items in front of him before sitting on the other side. 

"Okay! Ready?" You ask, a shy smile on your face. Sukuna hums, holding an arm out as he pricks some skin, watching the drop of blood fall into the bowl. You carefully do the same thing, neither of you saying a word. "How will we know?" He mumbles, not looking away from the bowl. "According to the spell, if you're soulmates, then both of you will suddenly have-!" You stop noticing the black tattoos form on your wrists along with others. You quickly looked up at Sukuna, seeing the same thing happen to him, only his markings were slightly different. The two of you stare at each other in shock. "...markings…" You whispered, a slight blush on your cheeks. Sukuna stares at you, eyes still slightly wide, before kissing you deeply. 

You squeak, feeling his hands start to feel up and down your body, not in a lustful way but in what feels like a devoted one. "My soulmate…my witch of the woods…your soul belongs only to me." He whispered, kissing up your neck before reaching your lips. You just giggled while placing your hand on his cheek, a soft smile on your face. "Sukuna-san…thank you for allowing me your soul… it's my greatest treasure."

______

"OI! SUKUNA!" Sukuna slowly opened his eyes, staring at the bottom of his throne. 'Ah, that's right…the kid is crying about helping that damn friend of his…tch. Not my fault he got his soul changed.' Sukuna thought, uninterested in what Yuji yelled at him. He just sighed before noticing a small tear falling from his eye. He swipes it away while looking at the markings on his wrist. He smiled a small smile, something that no one in the world would ever see besides one person, and she was gone. Sukuna placed a gentle kiss on the tattoos. 

"My soul yearns for you my Queen…my soul…one that only you can have and touch…my Y/n…" 

Choso

Choso fell against the wall, tears streaming down his face as he stared at the flower, eyes wide in shock. His mouth opened to scream, cry, yell, but nothing came out. He grips both sides of his head and slowly shakes it before squeezing his eyes shut, the tears appearing to get worse. Choso opens his eyes, glancing to his left to see the broken pieces of what was once a cursed item that informed him of your well-being. The two of you decided to get them when Choso started to fear for your safety after the deaths of his two younger brothers. He remembers your gentle smile as you happily agreed to his request, telling him you would do anything to ensure his mind was at ease. 

When he processed the broken pieces once again, signaling that you were no longer in this world with him, Choso snapped, his eyes practically rolling back as he screamed until it felt like his lungs would tear from his chest. "Why?! Why?! I don't understand why she was only gone for two days!" He screamed to himself while rolling around on the floor like a madman, the tears never-ending. First, his brothers and now his lover, all three gone from his side within a blink. "How could I fail to protect my family?!" Choso felt his fingers dig into the flesh of his face, tiny beads of blood appearing here and there. "Y/n! Y/n!" Choso reached for the broken pieces, his body soon becoming still as he grits his teeth, his eyes leaking tears. 

"My beautiful sweet bleeding heart…tell me it's a lie…you said you would be right back by my side." Choso sobbed as he held the broken cursed object to his chest while staring at the night sky. Choso's mind runs wild as he asks himself so many questions about your death. 'Was she scared? Did she suffer? Was it peaceful? Did they torture you? Did you cry? Smile? Were you lonely? Did you wish for him to save you?' all these thoughts ran through his head as he cried into the night. After some time, Choso quieted down, slowly rising to his feet as he stomped to his family's home, your home, no, to his home. He said nothing, his eyes void of any light as he lifted his head to the sky like a zombie, watching as snow started to fall. 'It's so cold tonight, Y/n….' He thought his hand subconsciously opened as if ready to take another's smaller one.  

_______

"Choso! Can I have a hug?!" You cheered, standing before your cursed boyfriend with a giant smile as you held your arms wide open. Choso just looked at you from his seat, tilting his head in confusion. "But didn't I just give you one five minutes ago?" he asked, not understanding why you wanted another one. You smile at him, slightly jumping in your step as you lean forward, arms still open, awaiting his embrace. "So?! What if I want to hug you every five minutes? You hurt me, my blood lotus." you whispered a slight pout on your cheeks. Choso flinches as he quickly goes and wraps you in his loving embrace. "I could never dream of such a thing. Me? Hurt you? I would rather die my bleeding heart." He whispers while inhaling the smell of your shampoo you knew he loved. 

"I love everything about you, my sweet flower." he caressed your cheek, a tiny blush on his cheeks as he avoided eye contact, still too embarrassed. You just giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck when he went to pull away from the hug. You hum, pressing your forehead to his as you force him to look into your eyes. You smile, eyes as bright as the day he met you. "Your eyes are so beautiful…" You whispered, gently placing the pads of your thumbs onto his dark circles, giving a small massage to the flesh. Choso lets out a small moan of approval as he carefully caresses one of your wrists with his fingers barely grazing your skin. "My bleeding heart…" You watched as Choso placed tender kisses on your wrist, his eyes glancing at you with much love and admiration. 

"Does this makeup for me hurting you earlier? Or do you wish for more?" He whispered, his thumb slowly dragging down your bottom lip, causing you to blush at his sudden boldness as you quickly jumped away, hiding your face. "T-that's perfectly fine! I'm already way better! I promise!" You stumble over your words, causing a gentle smile to caress Choso's face. "I adore you." He whispered honestly. "I-I get it!" you cried, covering his mouth with your hands. He laughs, loving how cute you are being. Choso pushes back a strand of your hair once you remove your hands from his mouth. "There's just one thing I'll never understand," he confessed, ensuring that you looked presentable when you had to go outside on your next assignment. "Hm? What is it?" You asked, tilting your head as you interlocked your fingers with his. "This," he confessed, gesturing to your hands holding one another. 

"You always want to hug or touch me in some way almost every second of the day. I am not complaining, of course…as I love you and…" he trailed off, growing shy at his words before clearing his throat. "I guess I just don't get why that is all." He admitted with a slight nod. You hum a smile as you lean back slightly, tilting your head to the side, eyes closed in thought. "Well…I guess it's because…for me I feel like if I don't keep touching you, you'll disappear from my side forever. So I want to ensure you're still with me in this world, Choso." You confessed this time using his name instead of your chosen nickname for him. Choso blushes before smiling as he lets out a tiny laugh while going to ruffle your hair. 

"Haha! You're so silly! I'll really never understand you Y/n." he confessed lovingly. You just looked up at him with your biggest smile, a deep blush on your cheeks as you placed a kiss on his lips. "I love you so, so much my bloody Lotus!" You cheered, and Choso could practically see just how pure and true your love for him was while looking into your eyes. 

_______

Choso stood in the doorway of your once-shared bedroom. His drained facial expression scanned the entire area, ensuring he took everything in, wanting to remember this room with all your shared belongings for the rest of his life. Choso lays down on the shared bed, making sure he curls up into a bawl as he shakily reaches for your pillow and your side of the blanket, bringing both pieces of fabric next to him, squeezing like they, too, would vanish from his grasp. Choso inhales your scent, tears falling from his face, drenching your once favorite pillow as he shoves his face into it, not wanting to forget your smell once it no longer remains in the place you two called home. 

"I wish you were here, my bleeding heart…I want to feel you next to me…I need you next to me." Choso cries, his entire body shaking as his mind fails to accept what has happened. Guilt soon fills his heart as he lets out a heart-wrenched sob, squeezing his eyes closed. "I'm sorry I didn't always hug and touch you whenever you were near me…maybe if I did…would you not have disappeared from my side Y/n? Are you gone because of me?" 

______________________________________________________________

A/n: I hope you all enjoyed part 2! I can't wait to create more for you all!

[buddierecs]

angst buddie fics

all of these are general audience, teen and up or not rated (no smut) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

a leaf falls on loneliness (highly recommend this fic!!) by: iimpossible_things "buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “i’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. really, he doesn’t. the 118 has too many good, kind people for that. but every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to eddie or bobby or hen or chim, he hears eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.” —you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting— so each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence." word count: 11k important tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, happy ending, original male character catharsis by: rogerzsteven "it only takes one minor inconvenience for buck to have his long overdue breakdown" word count: 5.3k important tags: emotional hurt/comfort, mental/emotional breakdown, bobby nash as evan buckley parent, multiple pov still by: brewsrosemilk "for the first time, buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. dirt to dig at. a door to break through. something. there’s nothing. “your guess was correct, diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “you’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. don’t shift. when you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." word count: 9.3k important tags: near death experience, love confessions, happy ending, first kiss august by: daisies_and_briar "buck, eddie, natalia, and marisol go on a beach vacation in august of 2023. It gets angsty and gay." word count: 40k important tags: vacation, eddie/mariol, buck/natalia, mariol/natalia, coming out, feelings confession, sexuality, everyone is queer listen to you breathing (is where i wanna be) by: yavilee "the one where buck is presumed dead after a building collapse and eddie has to live through the reminder that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone" word count: 41k important tags: presumed dead, major character injury, mutual pining, grief, panic attacks, friends to lovers all that we intend is scrawled in sand (and slips right through our hands) by: withmeornotatall "buck and eddie get trapped together, time is running out, and eddie doesn't want to die alone" word count: 6.9k important tags: near death experiences, major character injury, whump, love confessions, getting together, first kiss

actually, truly by: milenadaniels "helena (and ramon) tries to find a way back into eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding buck around every corner she turns." word count: 14k important tags: multiple pov, season 4/shooting, homophobia, internalized homophobia, recovering from injury, pre-relationship, getting together, team as family, supportive!isabel diaz, coming out i know you're hurting (but so am i) by: justhockey "eddie understands better than maybe anyone else ever could, how it feels to have everything unravel in the palm of your hands. he knows frustration - he knows fury. he’s painfully familiar with that burning rage that crackles in the tips of your fingers, that makes your skin hot and chest tight, and makes you want to punch anyone that dares to even look at you. but that doesn’t give chim the right to lay a damn hand on buck" word count: 3.7k important tags: hurt/comfort, ptsd, feelings realisation, protective!eddie diaz, communication, 5x04 coda i want to reach out by: orphan_account "buck was a very emotional and physically clingy person, he knew this, once he had someone, he held on tight, scared they'd one day leave them. a drunk ana points out that maybe everyone is tired of it, and buck realises: maybe they are." word count: 5.7k important tags: insecure!evan buckley, ana flores bashing, hurt/comfort, touch starved, abandonment issues, love confessions

the aftermath of liberation and love confessions by: elvensorceress "in which eddie comes out, sexuality is complicated but coffee is not, buck makes an excessive salad and is also roasted, everyone has a love confession, and December is the most dramatic time of year." word count: 17k important tags: pining!eddie diaz, idiots to lovers, coming out, love confessions, demisexual!eddie diaz, post 5.09 and this is his life by: shyaudacity "in late june of nineteen ninety-one, mere hours after losing her son to cancer, margaret buckley takes a baby out of the hospital nursery and decides to bring him home" word count: 26k important tags: established relationship, kidnapping, emotional hurt, panic attacks, flashblacks, comforting!eddie diaz mirror, lie to me, tell me you can see by: anonymous "buck struggles with food and his body. it's not new." word count: 20k important tags: TW: eating disorder, established relationship, hurt/comfort, protective!maddie buckley, marriage proposal, sibling love, caring!eddie diaz without you, i'll never be home by: the_forgotten_nobody "after the tsunami, eddie invites buck to stay with him and christopher." word count: 45k important tags: hurt/comfort, post-tsunami/season 3, anxiety, separation anxiety, pining, sharing a bed

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May Mayhem Bingo event.

What Happened, Happened

Prompt: Time Travel Break-It Worse | Word Count: 1586 | Rating: M | CW: Canon Character Death, Other Temporary Character Deaths | POV: Steve | Relationship(s): Multiple Mentioned | Tags: Post S4, Time Travel/Time Loop, Eddie Died and Gareth Blames Steve, Steve Tries to Fix It, It Only Goes Downhill From There, Angst, Guilt, Bargaining, Regret, Acceptance

"He's dead because of you."

The words slap Steve, right in the goddamn face. He wants to take a step forward, refuses to look back, because what good could come from that? Nothing. None. 

He flinches, muscles twitching as he urges his body to just move. To get away from this. He lifts his foot—

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, stilling, and doesn't even have to turn around to know who's standing behind him. Barking hatred at his back.

"I know," Steve says quietly, folding his arms over his chest, as if that can protect him from the wrath of Gareth Jones.

This isn't the first time they've had a run in, and Steve's sure it won't be the last. He deserves it. He does. Eddie didn't listen, Eddie ran into danger after promising he wouldn't, but it's still Steve's fault for leaving him in that position in the first place. He should have known better.

Done better.

"It's my fault," Steve says, lowering his head, chin pointing towards his chest, trying to will the tears filling his eyes not to fall.

Gareth shoves him, and that's all the momentum he needs.

Steve runs.

The book is old, dusty and musty. The lady in the used bookstore pulled it out from under the desk, and then had to remove it from a lockbox. He's still not convinced it's actually capable of doing anything. Of changing anything. But he lays on his bed and thumbs through it. Looking. He's not so good with the Latin pronunciations, but he tries his best.

His best?

Clearly not good enough.

He wakes up in a world where Eddie still dies, but so did Dustin. It's worse. It's so much worse. Sitting on Claudia's couch, crying, trying to explain himself. The words are broken, and nonsensical, but he promises to fix it.

The book is in his desk drawer, and he tries again.

It jerks him back to 1983. 

That's not so bad. He supposes. He could start over, run it back to the beginning, fix things from the jump. Sure, back here he's not friends with Robin, nor Henderson, but Barb didn't die. 

Unfortunately, Will Byers did.

And listening to Nancy cry, wrapped up in Barb's arms, he figures out that while doing their sleuthing to uncover what happened to him, Lucas, Mike and Dustin all disappeared. 

Steve knows they're dead. He can feel it. Knows they were dragged down there, just like Barb had been. Like Will.

He digs in his desk, and the book is there, so he tries again.

In the next world, Eddie's some sort of monster serving at the side of Vecna. Not dead, finally. But all sharp teeth and claws. At least when he rips out Steve's neck, Steve thinks, thank god, this is over.

It's not over.

He's back on the sidewalk, and his hand instinctively reaches up to his neck. It's fine. He's fine. Everything's fine. 

Except it's not. 

"He's dead because of you."

"He is," Steve admits, and just walks away. He's got work to do it. Again.

Eddie's in a hospital bed, machines beeping, whirring. His friends, his uncle, sitting at his side.

He did it. He fucking did it. 

"Hey, Harrington," Gareth says, and Steve nods. "We hear we have you to thank for getting him here."

Steve nods. But he doesn't know. Doesn't remember.

That doesn't matter, he cannot believe it worked. Fucking finally.

"So, thanks. We owe you."

They don't owe him shit. 

"We're really sorry about Robin," Jeff says.

"And Nancy," Goodie adds.

Steve hangs his head, and nods. Of course. Of course this didn't work. It never does.

He takes a step closer to the bed, and picks up Eddie's hand, the one Gareth isn't holding.

Steve squeezes it, and leans close, whispering, "I'm sorry."

And then he turns and leaves.

He has to try again.

That goddamn book just keeps making things worse. None of the fixes are fixes at all. He needs to just get back to their regular baseline version of shitty, and then he'll destroy it. 

He needs help. 

Scaling the side of Nancy Wheeler's house was easier at seventeen than it is at twenty, that's for damn sure. Back before his body had been put through hell, repeatedly. He taps on her window, and she jumps in the air, clutching her chest. 

"The front door broken?" she asks through the glass.

He holds up the old, ratty book, pressing it against the window.

"This book is ruining my life. Help me."

Nancy is reading while he lays on her bed. Every time he tries to say anything she shushes him.

"You've time traveled, like really time traveled, and not just like we did going back in time by slipping into the Upside Down?"

"Yes. Really time traveled. I keep making things worse."

"Well, yes, Steve. That's what fucking around with things usually does, have we not learned that yet?"

"This is Gareth's fault," he huffs.

"Who's Gareth?" she asks, turning to look at him.

"Grade below you. Drummer. You know, Mike's friend. Eddie's friend."

She looks upward as if she's asking for help from above, "Gareth Jones. That little twerp is somehow responsible for…this?" 

Steve sighs, and flops over face first into her pillow. It still smells like her shampoo. He squeezes his eyes shut. If he just lays here and breathes, it can be before. Before Eddie died. Before Barb died.

Just.

Before.

"Steve. Tell me," she insists and he can't avoid her forever.

"He's dead because of me," Steve explains.

"Gareth?"

"No, Nance, Eddie!" he snaps, burying his face again. 

"That wasn't your fault. If he'd just listened—"

"—don't blame him," Steve interrupts. They aren't blaming Eddie. Steve can't do that. And if it's not Eddie's fault, it's Steve's.

"Well it sure as hell isn't your fault," she says, "and if that little shit says so again, I'll make him regret it."

Steve smiles, maybe for the first time since all this started. She would, too. She'd eat him for lunch. "Thanks, Nance."

She nods curtly. 

"Have you told Robin?" she asks, and Steve shakes his head. He hadn't wanted to involve her. What if something happens to her? He can't risk it.

She sits there, thinking, putting the unspoken pieces together, then asks, "What's wrong with this world?"

"Jonathan's gone," he says. The whole Byers family, just gone. He doesn't know what that means for the Upside Down, but he can feel it under his feet. Angry. Bubbling. 

Unfinished business.

"Who's Jonathan?" she asks, meeting his eyes.

Exactly.

"Your boyfriend," he says, and she tightens her grip on the book.

"How progressive of you," she says, holding up her hand. Flashing him a diamond ring. Teasing him. They're engaged. Fuck. 

Six nuggets and an RV.

He shakes his head, "Just read it, Nance. Figure it out. Please."

She translated, parsed, and then made him practice what he was supposed to say over and over. Nancy wasn't sure it'd work, and Steve could tell she didn't even believe him, not totally.

He holds the book in his hands, and recites it as close to perfect as he can. 

Steve's back on the sidewalk.

"He's dead because of you."

Steve's not doing this again, he wheels around, and Gareth takes a big step back. He must look pissed off, feral, something, because Gareth has never remotely backed down from him once since he was thrust into his life. 

"He's dead because this town is eating us from the inside out," Steve snaps, "and I'll feed you to it next, if you keep it up."

Jeff and Goodie appear behind him, coming out of the drug store, ice cream in hand. 

"Whoa, uh, we all good here?" Jeff asks, handing Gareth a cone that's already melting. It has dripped down Jeff's hand, and Jeff wipes it on his jeans.

"I don't know," Steve says, "I don't know anything. I did what I could. I did what I could," he repeats, and he can't cry. "I tried my best."

"We know that," Jeff says, looking around at his friends, "Don't we?"

Goodie nods, but Gareth just glares. 

"We know that. Right, Gare?" Jeff probes.

"I'm sorry it wasn't enough," Steve says, because he knows Gareth Jones is never gonna agree that he isn't responsible. And that's fair. It is.

He's not gonna try to make him.

And he doesn't. He just turns and walks away, needing to make the rounds, makes sure everybody is where they're supposed to be. Make sure this world isn't all fucked up, too.

Robin's home, and doesn't question why he's driving all over town, spying on their friends. Just hops in with him, and they see that Jonathan's car is in front of the Wheeler's. Henderson is with his friends, as he should be.

Max is blind, but alive. El is painting her fingernails out on the porch, but stops to wave at him, big and bright. The weight lifted off her shoulders. It's over, here.

Eddie's headstone is still in the cemetery. 

It's covered in spray paint, again.

"The stuff still in the trunk?" Robin asks, and Steve nods.

He can't fix what happened. 

What happened, happened.

But he can fix this.

He squats in front of the stone. He takes the spray bottle from her, and wets the stone, rivulets darkening the granite. Then he takes the brush and scrubs. Hard. 

Cleaning up the only mess that he can.

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the May Mayhem Bingo Event!

Notes: I've already tried my hand at a time travel fix-it with All Across the Universe, so with this one, it was interesting to have Steve not be able to change things. Even if that is much sadder.

What happened, happened. 😭