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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 11 days

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Unfinished Business

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Serial Killer!Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: talk of beating/raping women and children (implicit, just mention), near drowning/death, car crash

Summary: You’re the most wanted woman in the country, and the BAU finally has you in its grasp. You hunt and kill truly evil people but it doesn’t seem to matter to the authorities if the victims are rapists, killers, and abusers. You’re doing this country a favor and you’re not finished. It doesn’t matter if you’re caught or not. You’re going to find a way to continue your work.

Square Filled: criminal au (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Tick.

If the damn clock wasn’t bolted to the wall, you would have ripped it from the plaster and shattered it to pieces. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be at home snuggling with your dog who you presume is missing you. Your sister knows to take him in if she doesn’t hear from you within twenty-four hours so you have no doubt he will be taken care of.

Instead, you’re sitting handcuffed to a table in the BAU.

You’ve been on the FBI’s Top 10 Most Wanted for three years now for your notorious work in slicing up men and women who deserve it. Every single one of your victims was far from innocent, but the FBI doesn’t care if you’ve been cleaning house. All they care about is the fact you have hundreds of victims under your belt.

You’ve been killing since you were a child because your father got you into it. It started with random strangers on the highway (he was a truck driver and would pick them up). He’d get them talking and if he so much got an inkling that they were less than innocent, he’d kill them. He taught you to wear gloves, clothes that don’t fit you, shoes that were slightly too big for you, to always have a wig on, talk with an accent, and never trust anyone.

He was never caught and died almost a decade ago. Now you’re left to continue his work.

Men who rape. Men who kill for fun. Men who abuse. Women who abuse. Women who kidnap. They’re all fair game. You’re ridding the world of evil one person at a time.

The reason you’re sitting here and not at home drinking wine is that you decided it was best to work with someone to take down a small group of abusers. The group was small, maybe five or six men, but they went out and assaulted women at night and left them for dead. This other person who you shall not name knew your father and reached out to you. He wanted to work with you in bringing the group down and you trusted him enough to agree.

Your first mistake.

Your second is when you gave him the task of finding an easy way out in case something went wrong. Something did. There was another man in the house who called 911. Your “friend” got away. You got caught. When the FBI realized who they caught, you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. There have been two dozen confirmed victims of yours but you know that number is well into the three hundreds by now.

You’ve saved a bunch of men, women, and children from getting abused and hurt, and there isn’t a thing you’d change if you could do it all over again.

You’ve been sitting in this godforsaken room for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe that’s their tactic. Maybe they want you to slowly go insane so you’ll confess to more crimes. You were born at night, not last night. At best, you’ll get three consecutive life sentences. There is no way you’re going to ever see freedom… that is if you were completely alone in this. There is a reason why your father was never caught. He has friends on the inside that you can turn to, so you know you’ll be okay if you get sent to jail.

You tap the metal table with a perfectly manicured nail when the door opens and a black man walks in with a thick file in his hands. Damn, he’s not the one you were hoping would come in. The one who apprehended you was white, and he had the most beautiful brown eyes. Lean but not too skinny. Curly hair. Such beautiful features.

The man sits across from you and lays out pictures of men you’ve killed over the years. They are unsolved cases but the FBI doesn’t know that you’re responsible for them. You keep your eyes on the man as he lays out six photos of men.

“Where are they?”

“What, no introduction? No, ‘How’s it going?’ I don’t get any of that?”

“My name is Agent Morgan, and you’re going to tell me where you buried their bodies.”

“Bold of you to assume I killed them.”

Agent Morgan takes out six more photos and lays them underneath the men’s portraits. Each of the new photos is of their crime scenes. You left a lot of blood behind but none of it is yours.

“Do you know what a signature is?” You don’t answer. “You like to leave behind a name written in your victim’s blood.” In each of the photos, you can see the name you wrote on their walls or mirrors. “Femme Fatale. No one else does that but you. So, I’ll ask again, where did you bury their bodies?”

“Mmm. Ask me again. This time, add ‘please’,” you smirk.

“This is not a game, Y/N. Tell me where they are and maybe we can work out a deal.”

“I’m already seeing three consecutive life sentences for the murders you’ve already pinned on me. Unless your deal is me walking out of this building without so much as a scratch on my record, I’m not telling you shit.”

Agent Morgan nods and gathers the photos. He’s done. He knows he’s not going to get anything out of you right now. He opens the door to leave but you stop him before he can.

“When you’re ready to come back, bring in the cute one. I have a thing for brown eyes and curly hair.”

Agent Morgan all but slams the door on his way out. It’s an hour before someone comes back to you, and this time, it’s who you want.

“Ah, there he is,” you grin and sit up straighter.

“So, I’m the cute one?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“Ooh, a doctor. I’m impressed. You look so young.”

Spencer opens a file and takes out pictures, different than the ones Agent Morgan showed you. They’re of your apartment, more specifically, the room you have hidden underneath your stairs. You have a basement in the house but the stairs to it are located underneath your staircase going to the second floor. The door is only accessed when you pull up the last step of the staircase. You had that installed when you bought the house so that your extracurricular activities can remain a secret.

Inside the basement are records of the men and women you’ve killed, where you’ve put their bodies, future victims on your list, and people you are suspicious of. You hate that they found that, but it doesn’t matter. You have many houses across the country and even one in Europe that all have the exact same information. If your father taught you anything, it’s to keep backups and backups of your backups.

The only difference is that every safehouse has a different list of different men and women. There are a lot of evil people on this Earth, and you’ve only worked in one country. Imagine what you’d find in Europe.

“We know you’ve killed more than two dozen. It looks like hundreds.”

“What else do you know?”

“I know that you’re smart--smarter than you’d have us believe. I know that you like to work alone. With a rap sheet like yours, you can’t trust anyone. It’s the reason you got caught. The one time you trusted another person, they let you down.”

“So, you’re not just pretty, you’re smart, too.”

“You can deny it all you want, but the facts are right here.”

“I’m not denying any of it. I killed them. All of them. You know where their bodies are. You don’t need a confession out of me which makes me think you wanted to see me.” You grin and lean forward as much as you can. “Isn’t that right, Spencer? You just wanted to talk to me.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t see the outside of a prison for the rest of your life,” he whispers.

“I like it when you talk dirty to me,” you smirk and lean back.

“We will be transporting you to a high-facility prison before sunrise.”

“As long as you’re in the car with me.” Spencer doesn’t say anything and cleans up the photos from the table. Like with Agent Morgan, you don’t let him leave just yet. “I’m not a bad person, Dr. Reid.”

“According to your basement, you’ve killed over three hundred people.”

“Richard Sigler was raping his six-year-old daughter. Her own mother didn’t believe her when she told her about it. Benjamin Cross has beaten and raped ten women over the course of a month. He was about to add an eleventh victim when I caught up to him. Alexis Greene aided her husband in kidnapping three children. I was with my sister’s kids when she tried it with me. She never got to a fourth.” You rest your elbows on the table. “I never hurt innocent people.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything and leaves the room. It’s another two hours before you’re placed in the back of a car with Spencer behind the wheel. Luck must be on your side because you two are alone.

“What, no one else is going to join us?”

“They didn’t need to. It’s a short drive.”

“Lucky me,” you grin. “So, since I’ll probably never have a genuine conversation with anyone else, tell me about yourself.” Spencer doesn’t answer. “Let me guess, you’re a reserved know-it-all. Secret romancer? Kinky in bed?”

“Shut up,” Spencer sighs.

“Ah, so you’re kinky, huh? What are you into? Personally, I love being tied up. Choking is a big one.”

“Like I’m going to tell you what I’m into.”

“You don’t have to. I can read people pretty easily. You’re an open book.”

Spencer tries to focus on the road but it’s snowing pretty hard. He didn’t know there would be a snowstorm soon. He thought he’d be able to drop you off and return to the BAU before it hit. He turns the windshield wipers on but it doesn’t do much for the snow pouring down.

“Maybe we should pull over. Get nice and cozy in here,” you chuckle.

“And give you a chance to escape? No way.”

“I have cuffs on, Spencer. You’re the one in control. That’s one of your kinks, right? Being in control.”

“Okay, right now, I need you to shut up.”

You do only because the car is shaking. There must be black ice on the road, and Spencer is trying his best not to skid too much. Spencer doesn’t look nervous but you can tell by his labored breathing and the slight perspiration on his forehead that he’s nervous as hell. The only reason you are, too, is because there is a giant lake to the right of you, and you’ve seen too many movies where cars skid on black ice and end up in lakes.

“Spencer, maybe you should pull over,” you say seriously.

“Don’t tell me how to drive.”

The streetlights barely give Spencer enough light to see the road in front of him, and the snow piles onto the windshield faster than the wipers can remove it. Spencer jerks the wheel to the right to avoid a pothole when the car is caught on a sheet of black ice. The car spins in circles before plunging into the freezing cold waters of the lake. Spencer’s head slams into the steering wheel and is knocked out immediately. Water rapidly fills the car, too fast for your liking. You take off your seatbelt and squat onto the seat so you can slide your cuffed wrists underneath your feet. You’re very flexible for someone your age, and you’re thanking your sister for pushing you to do yoga.

You hop into the front seat and ram your elbow into the passenger window. When all you get is a bruised bone, you know you have to try something else before all of your oxygen is taken from you. After all you’ve done, you’re going to let something like this take you out. The water has reached your chest now, and you open the glove compartment for something hard to break the window.

This is a cop’s car, so they have the tools needed to break open windows. You grab the small tool and slam it into the window. It shatters immediately, and you quickly swim out of the window into the dark lake. You’re about to swim to the surface when you look back at Spencer. You can’t leave him there. He’s going to drown. He’s innocent.

You don’t hurt innocents.

You swim to the other side of the car and use the same tool on his window. You reach in and grab him only to realize that he still has his seatbelt on. The tool you have is also good for cutting seatbelts, so you slice his lap belt and pull him out of the car. It’s hard since you’re handcuffed but you have to get him out of the lake.

Your lungs burn from not having enough oxygen, and black spots start to form in your vision. No matter what, you have to get to the surface before you pass out. Just when you think you’re going to suck in a lungful of water, you break through the surface. You struggle to keep both your head and Spencer’s above water but you manage to swim to the edge of the lake. You push Spencer onto the ground and heave yourself next to him.

Shit, you’re freezing. You reach into his pockets and see if there is a key for your handcuffs. Again, luck must be on your side because there is. You unlock the cuffs and place one of them around Spencer’s wrists and the other to the very thin light pole next to him. You can’t have him following you. You look at Spencer’s face to see him paler than before with blue lips.

“Spencer!”

You lean over him, place your lips over his, and blow into his mouth. You pull back and start doing three chest compressions. You repeat the process five times before Spencer coughs up a bunch of water.

“Oh, thank God,” you sigh. “You’re alive.”

“What happened? How did you…?”

“Sorry, babe. I gotta go before they realize you’re missing.”

Spencer jerks his body only to realize he’s handcuffed to the light pole. You grin and hold up the key to the cuffs. You toss them over to him but they’re just shy of his feet. If he stretches hard enough, he’ll reach them but only after he gets his strength back.

“No, get back here right now or I’ll--”

“You’ll what? Arrest me?” You take a few steps before turning back to him. “Don’t take this personally. I have a list to complete. Oh, soft lips by the way. If things were different… As much as I like you, I really hope I don’t see you again.”

Spencer sits helplessly and watches you parade off into the night. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see you again but he’ll try like hell to make sure he does.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst

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starlightomatic · 6 months

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hi, i just want to remind folks that a lot of people on here have personal connections to people who died or were kidnapped on october 7th. please keep this in mind when you want to understand why we react so much when people denying, minimize, or celebrate it.

a couple of months ago i met vivian silver's best friend. vivian silver was a long-time peace activist who was burned to a crisp so badly on october 7th that it took weeks to identify her body. my ex-boyfriend's family was friends with her as well, and they spent those weeks believing she was a hostage and hoping for her return, only to discover that she had been dead the whole time.

a couple weeks ago i met the sister of a nova festival survivor. she said that the hours when her brother was out of contact and they didn't know if he was alive or dead were both the shortest and longest hours of her life. another friend of mine lost five friends that day. yet another friend lost two friends who were on a biking trip in southern israel.

a couple who i know because they attended my childhood synagogue while in the US for two years lived in kibbutz nahal oz. they always told us how beautiful it was, and how they wanted us to visit it. now we can't; it's destroyed, with several of its residents killed. they and their two young girls miraculously survived after hiding in their safe room for ten hours before being rescued. a good friend of mine's boyfriend is from one of the kibbutzim that was destroyed, but he was not there at the time and so survived.

once, many years ago when the ex-boyfriend who i mentioned above (the one who knew vivian) were on a gap year in israel, i visited him on the kibbutz he was living on on a thursday night, and his friend gave us a ride to a bus station the next day to help us get to our shabbat destinations. the friend was headed on to visit friends at kibbutz be'eri, now destroyed, with over 10% of residents killed. i don't know if that man's friends survived.

another friend of mine, who was my coworker for several months when she was in the US last year, lived in metula in northern israel, on the border with lebanon. because of the war, she and many others are internally displaced within israel, because her home is not safe from rockets. recently, a mutual friend told me her house has been destroyed.

another friend of mine attended virtual synagogue with chaim katzman, a young man who spent time in the west bank protecting palestinian shepherds. when hamas fighters opened the closet he was hiding in to capture hostages, they shot him immediately, before taking hostage the women and children hiding in the closet with him.

in total, i have at least eight friends-of-friends who were killed on october 7th. the actual number is probably far higher, since i have a lot of friends in israel and many israelis lost people; but the eight is confirmed.

all of this to say: please understand when you're interacting with me and other jumblr bloggers that this is not theoretical to us. maybe to some of you, it's an academic excercise in seeing fanon's works in practice. maybe it's about decolonial theory and you might think "ah, well, decolonization is violent, what a shame but it was necessary." please remember it's easier to think that when you're not the one sitting at a shabbat lunch table with your mom's old friend who had to learn within the past few months that a woman she'd built movements with and was best friends with had been burned so badly she couldn't be identified for weeks.

i already know that people will believe the purpose of this post is to "generate consent for genocide" no matter what i say, but i'm going to say it anyway: nothing justifies genocide. nothing justifies the brutality that israel visits on the palestinian people. the people of gaza have gone through an order of magnitude more horror than what israelis have. the entire gaza strip is destroyed; people's homes, schools, mosques, orange orchards, everything. entire families have been killed with not a single surviving member. people have starved to death. people lack sanitation, menstrual products, and safe places to give birth. children are operated on without anesthesia. this is one of the greatest humanitarian crises of this century and it is israel's fault.

we need a ceasefire now; we needed a ceasefire yesterday; we needed a ceasefire months ago; we needed this never to begin. blowing up a child in gaza does not bring back vivian, it does not bring back chaim, it does not bring back my friend's cycling friends. it doesn't untraumatize the girl who waited hours to know if her brother was okay or the young family trapped for ten hours in their safe room. and i know for a fact that vivian and chaim would never have wanted this. not in their names, or at all.

so i am not posting this in an attempt to deny, minimize, excuse, or justify the genocide of the people of gaza, or to deny or excuse the nakba, the israeli raids in the west bank, settler violence, land theft both past and present, burning of olive trees, checkpoints and the restrictions on palestinian movement, the denial of right of return, and the fact that most palestinians do not have voting rights in the country that controls their lives.

i also understand that there are folks on here who have just as many personal connections to gaza -- or more -- than i do to israel. that it's deeply personal to them too, and they have watched as loved ones die, places they love and remember are bombed to dust, and people continue to minimize it, excuse it, or fight over semantics. i understand that this post will not land well for many of those folks, and that it will have activated people to hear me speak of nahal oz as a beautiful place i wanted to visit, because that land likely once belonged palestinian families, and was seized after its residents were herded into gaza during the nakba.

and.

people are human. humans deserve to live in safety. friends of humans who are harmed will feel pain, even if those friends lived on colonized land. i also live on colonized land, i am a settler. i live on the lands of indigenous peoples. when i looked up the nation whose land i live on, i can find information about their history but no information on where they went or whether they still exist. i don't know if they experienced a genocide and were all killed, or if they joined another people. i know i have never met any of them, and i live on their land.

and i'm not the only one. millions of people on this site are also colonizers of indigenous land. if you are not indigenous or Black, and you live in the US or Canada, you are every bit as complicit as my friends' dead friends in israel. your beautiful town is not morally better than nahal oz. you recognize yourself and your friends as people; you see their humanity.

i am beyond begging you to see the humanity of israelis, i think many of you can't. instead, this is my request:

remember, as you're doing your callouts, as you're describing me as evil and a person who needs to be blocked for the safety of your followers to i don't infect you or them with my evil:

i say and feel the things i do in large part from a traumatic event that occurred less than a year ago that i am personally connected to. please use what you know of trauma to understand that.

and then, if you can do that, maybe we can start to understand how trauma plays into why israel is the way it is; why trauma is actually the biggest player. so many of you have asked "how could a people who've been brutalized and oppressed brutalize and oppress another people?" my question: why would you expect that not to happen? trauma responses include fear, anger, aggression, compassion fatigue. when a population of descendants of refugees and genocide survivors, in a world that they believe to be out to get them, either supports or turns a blind eye to their government's atrocities, i am not surprised. saddened, but not surprised.

we then have to start asking: who enacted those traumas? when will we start to see the pain of both palestinians and israelis in light of the violence inflictated by far more powerful entities? by germany in the holocaust; russia and poland in the pogroms; swana arab countries in the persecution of jews post-WW2? who's at the top here? many of you are happy to believe it's jews pulling all the strings, but who set this in motion?

who denied jews safe haven before the holocaust, thus enabling this trauma to be inflicted in the first place? the US, and nearly all countries around the world. who restricted jewish immigration even post-holocaust, thus funneling huge numbers of jewish refugees into palestine, overwhelming the population even if israel had not been a colonial project? again, the US, and many other countries. who made double-promises and drew arbitrary lines in the region leading to decades of conflict? the UK.

who's funding this war? the US. Russia. Iran. don't be fooled that any of them care about israelis or palestinians. they have their own interests.

israelis and palestinians are the collateral damage in a horrible chess game that world powers have been playing for centuries. but they are not collateral damage, they are human beings, and their lives have value. collective liberation demands we look at the levels above the oppressor to see who is holding the strings, who put the puzzle pieces in place, who set off the levers and strings in a noxious rube goldberg machine that left nahal oz and be'eri in ruins and gaza destroyed almost beyond recognition.

my friends' little girls cowering in a safe room were never the enemy. chaim katzman hiding in a closet hoping the fighters would overlook it and leave him alive, or at very least capture him instead of kill him, was never the enemy. and they can't be; not if our goal is freedom and safety for everyone in israel/palestine. choosing who will dominate and who will be the oppressed minority in whatever comes next will not be the answer we need, and will not be liberation. just as zionism was not liberation. what can we build together, when this is all over?

what do we need to dismantle and destroy?

let's start with what we don't: homes. villages. cities. kibbutzim. orange trees. olive trees.

and who do we need to fight?

let's start with who we don't: the children.

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animentality · 9 months

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I see a lot of BG3 fans saying that they need to add a married with children ending for all the companions or add a Zevlor/ Dammon/Roland whoever romance option, but with all due respect... you're all wrong.

You don't need a fucking domestic life scene with all the companions, you don't need those random npcs to fuck you (that's what mods are for).

What they need to fucking do is finish the upper city.

Give Karlach actual fucking quests and the option to fix her heart.

Give Wyll fucking quests in the upper city and more romance scenes because his number of fucking unique scenes is ridiculously lower than Gale or Astarion's and gee I wonder why.

Please for the love of God, fill cazador's palace because that space is way too fucking big for how little is in it. It's actually kind of embarrassing how empty the palace is.

Fill the temple of Bhaal which has the same fucking problem.

Also while we're fucking at it?

When you're doing all that shit, why don't you attempt to give Orin and Gortash any of the same weight and respect you gave Ketheric???

The entirety of act 2 set him up as a major villain and made him intimidating and then sympathetic and then back to intimidating, and then back to tragic.

He had a whole descent into villainy story arc, with entire quests dedicated to understanding what happened to him.

He's a rich character because of it.

Gortash and Orin??? I mean come the fuck on.

Gortash either dies or dies, and Orin is literally your SIBLING if you're the dark urge, but all you can really do is kill her after she says the same shit to you that she says to a Tav.

You can't talk to her or learn more about her or your past, aside from talking to her dead mom.

She and Gortash come across as mini bosses. They almost feel like optional fucking side quests with how not involved they are.

Also remove lady jannath's house entirely from the game, thanks.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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etfrin · 9 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — prologue | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | coriolanus is his own warning, mentions of death, elitism, self harm (Coryo burns his wrist)

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 eight year old Coryo finds out who his soulmate is and his feelings about it

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 this is the first official post about this series that I started on a whim! I am excited to see where this goes, please give me feedback, thank you!

series taglist | series masterlist | navigation

It started with Sejanus. Despite being friends with the boy, eight-year-old Coriolanus Snow couldn't help but loathe the fact the boy had District blood.

Sejanus' presence in the Capitol Academy was an insult to all of Capitol. He couldn't comprehend how it was all allowed before he heard the whispers. Sturbo Plinth bought his way in with money.

Money. The one thing a Snow should be entitled to and yet has none of. Even the power his name held was dwindling. Coriolanus will do anything to make sure ‘Snow lands on top'.

With that vow, Coryo gently brushed his thumb over the tattoo on his wrist. A number, something of significance for his soulmate. Whenever he felt overwhelmed, he traced over the dark lines. He felt instantly calm.

Everything is going to be alright.

His soulmate will be a princess, a goddess, a rich Capitol girl no one can compare to. He will have a happy ending with her. Snows will rise on top, and his girl will be beside him every step of the way. The First Lady of Panem as he will be the president.

He vividly remembers the day all of his hopes were crushed. It was a couple of weeks after Sejanus started attending the academy. The boy was mocked by everyone, and Coriolanus thought it was deserved, a district boy was nothing more than an animal.

Then came the district girl, this one from District One, the district closest to the Capitol. But still not the same. The girl from the district was the prettiest he had ever seen. Although she's district. She had claimed the hearts of the teachers, and in return received many privileges. It was rumored that even the dean had a soft spot for her.

It was understandable why. She was a girl with a sweet smile, a secret sharp tongue, and hidden cruelty in her eyes he wasn't sure anyone saw except him. Her eyes always softened when she looked at him but she was always friendlier with Sejanus. Pea in a pod sticks together after all.

It was a bright day, a hot summer making him sweat in his uniform more than the walk to the academy did. That was the day he felt his heart break, and soul crushed. It was completely by accident. Sejanus and you thinking that maybe, you were soulmates. And Coriolanus thought so too, after all, you both were so close, attached to the hip.

Coriolanus felt like he was intruding into something private whenever he was near you both. With your shared giggles and secret smiles, you were as close as children could be.

When you raise your shirt sleeve revealing your soulmate's tattoo, the date is meant to be the most significant to your soulmate. Sejanus didn't recognize it but Coriolanus did, much to his nightmare.

It was the date most important to him. It was the day of his mother's and unborn sister's death. The day he lost someone he held so close to his heart. That's the number etched on your skin.

No. No! He grabbed your wrist, ignoring your yelp and the protest from Sejanus. His eyes were wide and he felt his body shake. “No. . .” He whispered, a sob in his throat.

“What's wrong?” You asked, trying to get your hand out of his hold, and due to his weak, underweight body, you did it easily enough. You rub your wrist and wait for Coryo's answer.

You don't get one because Coriolanus Snow had turn away and begun to walk away from you and Sej.

When he reached his home, his body was shaking and fat drops of tears falling from his eyes. A district girl as his? Never, never in a thousand years. His dead father would have been so disappointed. He refused to accept her as his.

He won't. Ever.

Tigris tried to ask what happened, but Coryo ignored her. He went into the kitchen, turning on the stove. The fire burned blue and orange. He didn't hesitate, ignoring the scream from Tigris as he put his wrist forward. He bit his lips to not scream himself.

By that time, Tigris had pulled him back. The skin had burned, along with it was gone the soulmate tattoo of his. He let himself sob as Tigris tried to fix him up as much as she could. She didn't scold him, couldn't, when he was crying like he had lost everything, all of his dreams shattered and the reality had settled in.

This was ten years ago, he decided he had no soulmate.

Now as eighteen, he wondered if it would remain true.

next chapter!

Taglist: @tristanswildcat

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jjk4isen · 15 days

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ꗃ 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐖.

❝ you're not a curse, you have never been. you were my blessing and my salvation– the best thing that has ever happened to me. you cleared my skies and showed me how it was to love… and be loved. ❞

summary: when your entire village faced the king of curses' wrath, you were sure you'd be as good as food for him but life decides to weave the strings of fate and intertwine yours with the very person who tries to cut it short.

desc: 8.6k words, f!reader, sfw, angsty angst hehe, major character death, cannibalistic thoughts (sukuna is a cannibal after all), takes place in the heian era, true form sukuna, bit ooc bc we know his ass isn't capable of love, ! slightly gory parts!, this is canon bc i said so, kenjaku isn't known as kenjaku yet – he's still known as noritoshi kamo, yorozu mentioned, basically just me raw dogging the storyline during the heian era lol.

notes: this took way longer than it should but i battled like three burn out sessions to write this so lmao. also does anybody get the aot reference in the title? this might MIGHT have a part two if i can think of a good plot to mirror it. if you get the reference, you'll alr know what it's going to be titled :P

must be horrifying isn't it? being a mere human amongst sorcerers and curse users capable of destroying and killing— powerless among the powerful whose thirst for yet more power remain a bottomless pit of unquenchable desire.

in this state of the world, your life wasn't your own. it belonged to the people who were strong enough to kill you or considerate enough to spare you.

and among dangers looming throughout, one triumphs all. one whose name was even powerful enough to send curses back at just the mention of it.

ryomen sukuna. feared by curses and non curses alike. the ruthless evil entity who feeds off of humans. there is no doubt about him being the king of curses, capable of having any being in the palm of his hands.

including you.

your village faced the wrath of the king of curses himself, not a brick was intact nor a rock left unturned. and what's even worse? he didn't have any reason for his destruction. he just did it out of his sheer will.

perhaps you should consider yourself lucky to have your life spared, along with some other women and children. all the men were gone without traces — maybe for the better.

trapped in the basement of the castle’s kitchen, you await your fate to be eaten.

what was that you said before? lucky? no, you realise how horribly wrong you were. the wails and cries of terror as yet another person was dragged out of the small room was enough to ring in your ears forever.

the sudden quietness that followed soon after was enough to suffocate you.

the room was dark, wet and disgusting. it reeked of decomposed bodies and blood. nobody was fed well and even if one or two loaves of pitiful bread were thrown into the small cell, it wasn't nearly enough to feed a group of starving people.

at least the number keeps decreasing day by day.

you'd notice how the people who cried, begged or fought back were likely speeding up their deaths so you kept to yourself, waiting for your turn, even if it's just a while later.

after what you think was a couple of days came your turn. you had lost your perception of everything in this tiny suffocating room; you might as well be dead.

you heard some loud clanks of the metal door and suddenly, a harsh pull sends you essentially flying towards whoever was grabbing you.

“this is the last one” you heard a gruff voice say as a light shone inside. it felt like ages since you saw any sort of light, of warmth. in a way, you were relieved. your suffering must be finally coming to an end.

“its this one isn't it?” a low voice asks as they being a lamp closer to inspect you. your eyes were opened and after a long while, you saw again.

“why is she in such a weakly state?” the person holding the lamp grimaces at your sight. through your hazy vision, you could still make out the white hair, perfectly in place. they were beautiful.

“well that ain't my fault is it?” the big creature yanks your arm and you fall wherever it does.

suddenly shards of ice fill the room and the fire from the lamp is put out. in its place is a glowing icy caricature of the creature, holding you intact.

as terrifying as cursed techniques can be, they were also mesmerising. the beautiful fridgid sculpture leave you in awe; the rough hand holding your arm was now frozen and unmoving.

“now.” the icy person leans down, meeting your eye level, you hadn't realised the dim moonlight illuminating the ice crystals in the room “what shall we do with you?”

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the next time you're concious enough to make out your surroundings, you find yourself in a small dimly lit room. it was heaven in comparision to the previous one.

you scrumble towards the small lamp and take in the warmth. you had no idea where you were, what happened or what would happen but for now, you were alive. barely, but alive still.

weakly, you sit on the floor— there isn't anywhere else to sit anyway. upon hugging your knees you notice an apparent bruse on your arm. the same place where you were grabbed, the memories come back slowly.

did the white haired person save you? could you maybe have a chance at life?

no, being in captivity by the king of curses himself tells you enough that you weren't going to make it out of here alive. well, it's not like you necessarily want to either. your home and the people in it were gone, some of whom you witnessed their end.

it's only fair for you to meet the same fate as them.

the sound of the door unlocking interrupts your thoughts, then in came the person with snow like hair.

“finish this” they hold out a tray of food and set it down next to you. you only lean away defensively.

without so much of another word, they make their way towards the door that is, until you decided to stop them.

“you saved me didn't you?” it had been a while since you even heard your own voice and you don't miss the way it sounded more resigned than it had ever been.

“do not be fooled. it is all in consideration for my master. finish the plate” with that they walk away, leaving you with even more questions than before.

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when the certain white haired person decides to show up, they look pleased with your health. well, it should come as a no surprise since they keep feeding you — overfeeding you in fact. and you know why.

fatten up the stock so that it's in top shape when it's time to consume it.

“follow me” they say, holding the door open.

obediently, you follow the person you owe your life to, for now anyway, and they lead you through alleys and stairways you had never seen before.

only sounds of footsteps and your exhausted huffs can be heard in the hallway filled with various markings on the wall. you don't even want to know what they mean.

“so… how do i call you?” you manage to ask, maybe if you try to get close to them, maybe they can help a second time.

don't kid yourself.

no reply comes and you feel heat rush to your cheeks from embarassment. but hey at least you tried.

your wandering eyes missed to see them stop before a certain door and you crash into them with a grunt. they must be well built because the impact did not faze them at all.

“sorry” you rub your nose that was sore from bumping your face into their back.

“i go by uraume. i am master sukuna's loyal servant. beyond this door is the garden and you are to take a walk twice a day to build up your stamina. i shall be checking on you daily.”

“why should i need to do that?”

“do as you are told. now go” they open the door for you.

beyond the door is a garden too beautiful to belong in the palace of such an abominable being. flowers of all kind adjourn each corner, flourishing in all their bloosoming glory.

the sky was as clear as can be, with the sun brightly shining as if it's wishing people a good day. the birds chirping and the gentle breeze that brushes through your hair reminds you of your home back in the village and your heart aches a little.

“thankyou” you turn back but uraume is now long gone.

gee must people be so cold around here?

you stroll along the garden, savoring your time outside in so long. how long has it been exactly? you couldn't recall. maybe you should ask uraume the next time they come around.

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only this time when uraume does show up, they don't lead you towards the garden. instead, you find yourself at the door of the king of curses’ throne room.

uraume doesn't say a word and only ushers you in.

is this doomsday? you recall the screams of fear from the people you used to share a home with. the look on their faces, their nails desperately clinging onto the prison bar while pleading for mercy — all of that for naught.

and the silence that followed.

it's possible that the well timed meals and the strolls you took in the beautiful garden was the mercy your people begged for but never got.

maybe you should be thankful you even got to have those.

“master is impatient. you should go in right this instant” uraume insists. something about their behaviour tells you if you don't do as told, you'd have a fate worse than what you could ever think of.

with all the courage you could muster, you unlock the door and take strides into it, as confident as you could make it seem.

the four armed monster looms in front of you, starting down at you as if you were only a mere bug.

perhaps you were — small and helpless, under the mercy of the predator who had seen you.

you bow politely, it seemed like it was the only appropriate thing to do.

sukuna thinks you're pathetic.

just a mere human and not worth his time. there was only a small reason as to why he hasn't had his way with you yet.

your flesh and blood.

to him, you smelled hauntingly sweet and hypnotisingly alluring. that was what drew him to your village in the first place — the hunt for the sweet scent that awakened all his senses, although he doesn't have any idea why.

sukuna is a curious being, he seeks to know the mysteries of the world — one of the reasons why he's so wise, adding to his strength.

so until he has his answers, he plans to keep you around. after that, he can enjoy your flesh however he wants.

just you standing mere feet away from him was enough to tempt him to bite you already. how would it feel to sink his teeth into your skin and have your blood flow down his throat? sukuna couldn't wait until he has the chance to do so.

“leave.” the monster only dismisses you after staring at you so intently, he might as well be staring deep into your soul.

you look up at him in confusion, why would he call you here without any particular reason?

“do your ears not work, human?” sukuna says, rather impatiently.

“lower your gaze and know your place, fool” he practically growls and you look away faster than the speed of light. one more bow and you're bolting out the door.

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your stay at the palace was a cycle of eating, sleeping and taking strolls. it was beginning to get monotonous, boring even. but its much better than facing the king of curses ever again.

you still had no idea why he called you to his throne room and honestly, you don't even want to find out why.

life wasn't so bad — the flowers were beautiful and smelled lovely, the meals were scrumptious and your sleep? well nightmares were inevitable but there were nights when you slept like a log.

and unbeknownst to you, a certain four eyed creature could be seen watching over you. no, observing you. its only right for him to observe his prey right?

it's not out of the goodness of his heart that when you whimper and cry out in your sleep because of a weak nightmare curse looming over your head, he kills it with only a tilt of his own. no, it's only because that curse deters your well being, hence your development to reach your full potential to be a perfect feast for him. nothing more.

weak human, you don't have the means to kill such a low grade curse or even see it. so why were you special? what makes you so different than the other filthy beings with no cursed techniques roaming the earth? sukuna still couldn't tell.

he's aware though — of your silent fear and unspoken resentment you have towards him. he's aware of your quivering soul whenever you sense his presence. he's aware of your desire to escape this place.

but he's also aware of how your smile becomes a little more genuine when you smell a particular flower in his garden. he's aware of how your eyes soften when you see the setting sun. he's aware of how you tried to get close to uraume and only get shut out. he's aware of you.

and that angers him to no end.

what infuriates him even more is how that pathetic servant thinks he can talk to you, and with such ease too. how dare he speak lowly of you? that's a direct insult to him isn't it?

‘you mean less than a concubine?’ sukuna scoffs at him for even comparing you to one.

so the next time he calls the council for a lecture, he doesn't even blink one of his four eyes when the said servant in question gets slashed by his formidable cursed technique.

the room grows thick with the smell of blood that was now splashed all over the carpets and tapestry hanging on the wall—a grueling task for the cleaners later.

“every tongue that rises against my prey shall fall.” the headless body of his once loyal servant serve as testimony to his words.

the palace may be big but rumours flew around: another servant ruthlessly executed by the monstrous beast. even the people under him weren't given an ounce of consideration.

is it a coincidence that it was the same person who cornered you just a day ago? you don't ponder.

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after the ruthless slaughter of your village and everything in it, it didn't take long for sukuna to find his next target.

it wasn't anything new to anybody at all that he was a bloodthirsty beast, revelling in chaos and ruin. one after another, his victims were crushed mindlessly and so easily, it made you sick how powerless other people are in comparison to him.

out of all his battles and countless destruction, one prominent opponent was the fujiwara clan.

they were an elite clan, taking pride in the strength of their squadrons. the world held its breath upon hearing of the battle, maybe they had the potential to rival the king of curses.

the outcome didn't change though. sukuna remained prevalent—bringing the sun, moon and stars at his feet. the five empty generals did not even measure upto him.

the battle must have been so agonising to the point where the authorities were willing to hold festivals in his honour, out of utter terror.

it was at this harvest festival where sukuna had encountered a certain shameless sorcerer who was on her way to be completely obsessed with him.

yorozu had only one goal: to alleviate sukuna's loneliness with her love — something she believed only she was capable of.

thus why she leeches onto him, much like a hick. perhaps sukuna doesn't see her as a threat or he deems her powerful enough, he didn't get rid of her, for now at least.

however, her dreams were short lived.

yorozu sits next to sukuna in his throne room, enticing him with gentle nudges of her exposed chest. her haori was united and her hair fell graciously past her shoulders all the way down her chest.

she only shrieks in horror as she stares at the uninterested man. “you look different… you are different!” she screams angrily.

sukuna only hums in response, deep in thought of how his little prey has been holding up. despite his festivities and celebrations, you were there in the back of his mind, like an itch that cannot be quite scratched.

she stares at him, stepping back further and further “it couldn't be…”

yorozu brings herself to her knees, looking up at sukuna desperately. “i have so much more to teach you about love and the ultimate strength and solitude that it brings!”

she rises, her eyes were erratic, anyone would be afraid of her outburst that was about to come. anyone but sukuna.

“im the one who will teach you about love. that is my purpose and my goal. now tell me, who is it that is taking away your loneliness?”

sukuna raises a brow. it's possibly the only time he indulges yorozu’s antics and also the last.

“i will find out who it is! it doesn't matter if i have to tear this palace apart” yorozu violently darts out the room in search of something, anything. to her, if it was powerful enough to move sukuna then she would have no trouble finding whatever it is.

and she doesn't. not because you're too powerful but rather because of the lack of it. you stuck out like a sore thumb with no cursed energy running through your body, weak and unarmed just strolling across the garden— like the pathetic human you are.

sukuna arrives at the scene, ever observing, ever thinking.

“that is not true love” yorozu mutters, her fists were clenched on her sides as her gaze burnt into you who was unknowing of the fury burning inside her.

“you're mistaken, sukuna. i will show you what real love looks like!” yorozu screams, making her way towards you who could only stare at her in fear, frozen in place.

it would take sukuna less than a blink of his eye to stop her but he was intrigued. what would he feel if you were to be killed? would he feel pain? anger? the beast always finds his answers so he waits.

and what was that about true love? does that woman think he was capable of it? with you, no less? she sees you, a mere human, as a threat so that must mean something.

yorozu lands on you, digging her nails into your skin, blood gushing out of it. sukuna admires the sight.

you scream in agony as she continue to scratch through you and into you with ease. a maniac expression forms on her face at your slowed breaths and now silent helpless whimpers.

but before you were completely gone, sukuna gets rid of her. you were too busy holding onto your life to tell how he did it but one blink was enough for her to be gone and another makes you realise you were caged in the arms of the four armed monster.

“interesting” you heard sukuna say, before your lashes flutter and your eyes close against your will.

sukuna holds your limp body in his arms protectively with calculated gentleness as if a slight jerk would hurt you. well, in your state, it would.

upon watching you get torn apart, sukuna realises he isn't as heartless as he deemed himself. it drives him angry. how could a being as weak as you would have the capability to move him? how could you inflict pain onto him when you're the one who's at his mercy? he scoffs at how ridiculous it is all.

but when his eyes land on you– your fragile body almost lifeless and bleeding, his only thought was towards your safety and not towards devouring you, albeit the sweet scent of your blood tempting him and calling out to him to drink it.

he stares at his hands tainted with the pretty crimson colour, glistening in the sun but it pales in comparison to the way your eyes were shut as if you were only asleep. sukuna sighs, alright then.

his reversed cursed technique flows through his body into your own, healing the deep tears and cuts. he only hopes you aren't too angry at him for waiting that long to step in.

your staggered breathing was replaced with slow even ones and your wounds disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place. a peaceful expression forms on your face and all of sukuna's eyes soften.

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the next time you awaken you find yourself in the comfort of your own room making you doubt if everything that happened was a vivid dream. and you would have believed that doubt if not for the person sitting in the corner of your room, his four arms folded into each other.

you flinch upon seeing him and sit straight up, a groan escapes you involuntarily from your sore body.

“you're awake, brat” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine.

you nod slightly, your eyes on anything besides him.

“how are you feeling?” this makes you jolt your head towards him because did he just ask about your well being? you would say you misheard but the frown and distaste on his face only confirms that he was, in fact, concerned about your condition somehow.

“im feeling alright” you say quietly, still a bit afraid of the man sitting in your room who could easily overpower you if he wanted.

“i should hope so. your weak body didn't take much to heal as easily injurable as it is” he sneers from the shadows that enveloped him.

“so it wasn't a dream?” your voice shook a little which doesn't go unnoticed.

“no. i have taken care of the matter. you may rest at ease” he rises to his feet, he looks way too big to feel safe around. you hug your blankets a little tighter. wait, when did you even have that many?

“do not fear. i do not intend to harm you.” two out of four eyes narrow at you and how scared of him you looked. sukuna doesn't like how that bothers him.

“how do i know that?” your eyes didn't meet him, rightfully so, if it was anyone else who questioned him, sukuna would waste no second getting rid of them altogether.

“it is i.” a viable answer – one that doesn't need any further explaination. sukuna maybe a merciless hard hearted being but he's also a man of his words. anyone who knows him would be aware of this fact.

“but i don't know you.”

he supposes you're right. in a way, nobody knows him. this was also why he remained so strong despite people and sorcerers alike sharpened themselves while fighting him. he did not have an opening to allow them to kill him.

“then you can start from this moment forward.”

“i don't want to.” for the first time, sukuna faces disappointment; but it's a different kind of disappointment. normally he would be discouraged at how nobody was able to stand a chance against him but now, he feels helpless. much like he was the prey and you're the predator.

“and your reason for that is?” ever so curious, he glowered at your body which had somehow become smaller amongst the sheets of blanket you're enveloped by.

“because then… then i will grow to understand you. if i do understand you then that would mean id find out you have a heart. someone with a heart would never… would never…” your voice trails away and you look horrified by the memories flooding your mind.

“so i don't want to know you.” you muster up enough courage to stare into his eyes, all of his eyes and sukuna can feel your soul tremble.

he only watched silently as you fidget under his watchful gaze. great. he's at a loss by someone who's terrified of him, how much more could you hit a blow to his pride.

without a word, he steps out of your room and he could hear you exhale. he huffs in annoyance at how tense you are in his presence. and your words. they might as well be your cursed technique attacking him with every enunciation that came from your mouth.

and they were working.

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the world was somehow shifting. you couldn't exactly pinpoint where or how but it was.

“master has assigned you a new room that would be more comfortable for your stay” uraume says, standing in front of you in a polite stance. “please allow me to guide you there.”

if this is his attempt to make you forget about all the destruction he caused, for whatever reason, it was futile. he was irredeemable.

your thoughts might have been apparant on your face because uraume continues, “master says he does not have an ulterior motive. he simply wants you to be comfortable.”

since when did that beast care about other people's comfort except for his own?

“fine then, show me” if he offered, then there's no problem in accepting. heck maybe you should be taking advantage of his hospitality and ask for whatever you desire. he has put you on death's row and wiped of everyone you knew after all.

you were led to a room that was closer to the main area of the palace, a stark contrast to the basement of the kitchen — where you started from.

pieces of beautiful art were decorating each corner, finest tapestry hanging from the walls, and the curtains? they were of the best material you had ever known. no doubt, this was a room that exceeded even your dreams.

uraume opened the closet revealing kimonos of various kinds, from silk to linen to satin— every kind was there. “i was not aware of your taste so i assorted various kinds.”

you were amazed at the room, the materials – everything but these measly riches don't bring lives back and the monster certainly wasn't capable of any empathy so the words saying he has no ulterior motive were nothing but empty to you.

“what? have i been promoted from prey to concubine now?” the word alone makes you sick to your stomach but it's the only explanation that makes sense.

“you are very wrong. master does not keep concubines. it is only an extension of his kindness.” you laugh, sukuna? kindness? please.

four eyes narrowed at your bitter laugh, sukuna stands in the doorway, each of his two arms folded in each other. he has lost count of how much disrespect he tolerates from you but strangely, it does not give him a drive to kill, only annoyance.

a brow raises when you turn around after being aware of his presence and your laugh, as mocking as it was, dropped into a frown.

seeing how speechless you are, he huffs. from out of nowhere, he conjures up a bow and an arrow to go along with it. sukuna moves stealthily, one step and he's already next to you.

the bow and arrow are shoved into your hands “i have heard you are exceptionally good with these” sukuna says, his voice was low and calculating – if you hadn't known better, you'd say it quivered a little.

he wasn't wrong though, you had to hone some sort of hunting skill for food. life wasn't kind and you learnt it the hard way. nevertheless you felt safer with some kind of weapon you were familiar with, even though they won't be of much help against a sorcerer.

“master’s very own bow and arrow” uraume interrupted, their face had an expression of shock you had never seen on them before. there was an engraving on them– the same mark that sukuna had on his body.

“why give me this?” you ask and receive no answer. not because sukuna doesn't want to answer you, he simply doesn't have a reason. he just wanted you to have it. it felt natural. he'll be damned before he ever admits that to you or even to himself.

“what if i use it on you?” you press on, clutching onto the wooden weapon tightly. “what if i wanted to fire this at you?”

“i would let you.”

it caught you by surprise. why? you want to ask but you also didn't want to hear his reason. you don't want to know him. the little barrier you had put between you both is the only thing giving you leverage against such a vicious being, you couldn't afford to have it break down.

taking a quick abrupt step back, you line the end of the arrow to the bowstring and pull on it with an expert ease, aiming it at sukuna. uraume was about to step in but sukuna waves them off. as if the most feared curse user couldn't defend himself.

he could already have you breathing your last breath in a mere second if he wanted to but of course, he doesn't. he just stands there unmoving. his lack of response to your threat made you all the more aggravated.

“aren't you going to stop me?”

“no. proceed with whatever you intend to do, i shall not stop you.” sukuna's folded arms fell to his sides, giving you an open target for his heart.

now you should be firing your arrow with no hesitation right? you have hunted down countless moving targets from as small as a bird to something as big as a deer.

and they were running while you manage to hit a bullseye – every single time. so now this unmoving big target within just a few meters would be a piece of cake. it's your chance to end the tyranny of his wicked rule and him altogether– a chance that had not been granted to anyone who stands against him.

but your hands wouldn't move. they wouldn't let go of the string to propel the arrow towards him. they were frozen in place. you would have doubted uraume’s technique being in play but no signs of ice crystals found themselves anywhere near.

sukuna waits and you wonder if he was ever this patient.

your hands tremble, slowly letting your form down. why couldn't you just do it?

“human–”

sukuna's words were cut short by a swift arrow flying towards him. he didn't make a move to avoid it.

your trembling hands were now perfectly stable holding the bow. your breathing was calm, collected even. if anyone were to see you now, they'd wonder who the beast is. empty eyes deadpan at your target.

sukuna stares back, his cheek bleeding from the graze of the arrow. unlike your soul-less face, a satisfactory smile creeps onto sukuna's. “you didn't miss, did you? you aimed here on purpose.” his hands caress the small wound in awe.

“next time i wont.”

“as i have said, i will not stop you.”

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the new room was comfortable, all your needs were tended to and your conduct exceeded your desires. you were treated equal to a queen, if you knew how.

and uraume, sukuna's loyal servant, was now your own. they were still very distant though, not speaking more than they needed to. not like you really minded anyway.

uraume was there to observe. they were under strict orders to keep you safe and also report your daily status to sukuna. you weren't exactly aware of this part but there's no harm done so by logic, there wasn't a problem with it either.

sukuna finds the corner of his mouth twitch when uraume mentioned that you sang obnoxiously loud because you thought nobody was around. he'd have loved to hear that himself.

the amusing brief about you was however rudely interrupted by a strange person brave enough to march directly into the throne room unannounced.

“you're from the kamo clan aren't you? have you come to die a meaningful death?” sukuna's thirst for battle heightened upon seeing a sorcerer from one of the three main clans in jujutsu. maybe finally, he can have a strong opponent and enjoy the fight without having it end too early.

but the man only chuckles “no, i have come here to negotiate with the almighty king of curses himself”

sukuna frowns, now staring at him unamused “you do not have anything worth a value to me. fight or die a pathetic death.”

“i will do neither of those.” noritoshi kamo, stands face to face with sukuna without a hint of fear in his eyes and that makes sukuna curious. just what kind of offer does he have to be so bold?

“prove that you are worth my time you filthy scum” sukuna glowers at the man, getting more and more impatient by the second.

“how about that prey? how is your little prey doing?” kamo smirks and it's enough to tempt sukuna to cut through his skull but no, he refrains because anything that involves you, sukuna doesn't take it lightly.

“speak up or i’ll have you slashed.” sukuna remarks impatiently.

“it would be a shame to have her taken away from you isn't it?” the old man sneers.

the next thing he knows is his ragged breath and a sharp pain across his chest, kamo falls to his knees. sukuna’s technique had manifested a cut through his chest, although not deep enough to end him. with blood oozing out of the fresh cut and his mouth, he still has the courage to glare at the four eyed creature.

“you must not value your life” sukuna says nonchalantly, leaning against one of his hand, the grotesque sight was nothing new to him at all.

“your reign is coming to an end isn't it?” kamo laughs, although it comes out through splutters of blood. “no matter how powerful you are, you are not immortal sukuna, you still won't defeat death!”

as if sukuna is one to fear death. sukuna only sighs, revelling in the bloodied state of his intimidator.

“and your little human toy won't either” that earns a reaction from him. sukuna's eyes narrow at the pitiful man fighting for his life.

“what are you suggesting?”

“what if i tell you– that there is a way for you to be immortal? and that it's possible to find her in every lifetime?”

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everyone who knows sukuna knows that he does not get hurt. or yet, there's nobody who's strong enough to hurt him. generation upon generation, sorcerers have teamed up to get rid of him but with no luck. not even one of them could land a hit on the ferocious being.

all the more reason for you to be speechless when he returns with a huge hole in his stomach, bleeding continuously.

it was during your stroll that you saw him staggering over to his room.

okay maybe that was a lie. maybe you'd heard that a very prominent sorcerer in the jujutsu society had challenged him. you didn't know much about that world but it was enough to worry you, even if sukuna was undefeated.

so maybe that worry brings you into a situation where he arrived just while you were taking a stroll in the garden. you definitely didn't purposely take longer to watch the birds fly back to their nest in hopes of making sure sukuna returns. definitely not.

that's also NOT why you're knocking on his door boldly.

the door opens, revealing a confused sukuna. your eyes dart down to his injury but it seems the blood had stopped, still looking nasty regardless.

you wince just by looking at it but sukuna interrupts your unwarranted examination. “eyes here human. what do you want?”

for someone who's supposed to be prey, you're bold because in the next moment, you find yourself pushing through the door and asking him to sit down.

yes. you— a mere human, barged through his room and asked him to sit. when he doesn't comply, you walk up to him, pulling on one of his hands, guiding him towards his chair and sat him down. and strangely, no hint of protest came from him – not even a grunt or a growl.

with familiar ease, you call in uraume and ask for an emergency kit. they hesitate but comply regardless.

your expert hands slowly disinfect the wound and start stitching it up, not even sparing a glance at the man who just watches you and lets you do whatever you want to him.

“where have you garnered skills to do this?” sukuna asks mid stitch and it's only then that you realised he hasn't done so much as flinch. you could imagine how painful it would've been for a normal human but apparently this counts for nothing to him.

“when you're desperate enough, you just know” the last string goes through his flesh and you tie a knot, snapping the thread off. your movements slow when you realise you're touching him– skin and all, with your own.

your eyes lock when you search for his and they stare back. this time, you don't see a vicious brute but in its place, you see the eyes of a man. and not just any man, if you allowed your thoughts to wander you'd say it was the same look of a man capable of love.

but you don't – you look away. and sukuna's could feel a slight pull in his chest.

“human.”

“i have a name”

“human.”

the disregard for your name only makes you roll your eyes in annoyance. the man only chuckles at the sight.

“you do realise i can heal myself?”

a pause. of course how could you forget? reversed cursed technique they call it? all these magical powers granted to them made no sense to you at all. you only stare at the wall dumbfounded as sukuna downright laughs at your humiliated expression.

“why didn't you stop me then?” your grumble only amuses him further.

“perhaps because i wanted you to acknowledge how foolish you are?” his tone was teasing and not a hint of malicious intent was within it. a smile creeps on your lips and sukuna could swear his heart rate accelerated.

“i could show it to you if you're curious” your wide eyes give him all the confirmation he needed. sukuna rises on his feet, the prior horrid injury long forgotten.

“you could… take off the bandages. if they aren't effective anyway since you can heal” you shrug, trying to brush off your wholly service that was in fact not required in the first place.

“i rather they stay.” his hands graze them gently and you could swear he smiled at the pitiful mounts of cotton plastered on his abdomen.

“come. allow me to show you what im capable of.” he offers you a hand, out of the many he has and his shoulder slumps in relief when you take it without any protest.

he takes you outside and leads you towards your favourite spot in the garden. you don't let yourself wonder if it's a coincidence or not.

“see that fruit?” he gestures to a ripe apple hanging on its tree – super red and just the perfect size.

“yeah want about it?” you tilt your head towards him curiously making sukuna more enthusiastic to show you his perfectly crafted technique.

an invisible slash cuts the single fruit out of the tree, making it fall. it was barely noticeable and you'd think it fell on its own if not for the perfect slices it has all while it landed in the palm of your hands.

your wide eyed gaze only delights the man responsible for it. you take one slice off and admire the precision “you did this?? no way!”

sukuna heaves his chest proudly. strangely, your adulation to his antic gives him so much more satisfaction than wiping out an entire village.

“wait till you see this” sukuna takes a step back, his lips quirking up into a tight smirk upon seeing your expectant expression.

he places his hands together and gestures up signs that were not familiar to you. “fuga « open »” his low voice chants while fire manifests into the palm of his hands. he moulds the flames skillfully as it takes the shape of an arrow – a fire arrow.

and you're left with your mouth agape, he was truly terrifying. such bright flames don't even burn him but instead falls into his command.

sukuna likes the way you stare at him in wonder and was tempted to tell you that he created this very technique in honour of you and your bold decision in grazing his cheek with your arrow but for now, he holds his tongue and lets you admire as long as you want.

when the flames burn away, you're still in a haze— staring at the man in front of you with diluted pupils: one might think you're in love.

as sukuna focuses his eyes into your own, he's certain he could see into your soul which grows a little more familiar to him everytime he sees you. no it's not how he feels the familiar terror in someone's soul when they tremble in fear of him just as he was about to take their life.

it's not the same shudder of fear he used to feel when he's around you. this time, it's inviting. he feels he could be stripped of his technique and just be a normal being if it meant he could submerge himself in it.

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sukuna used to anticipate how he would die. he wanted to meet someone who would be strong enough to give him a formidable death fit for the most evil being to tread the world. news of fresh generation of strong sorcerers would excite him.

but the moment he knew he was entranced by you, that prior excitement was now replaced by fear. not fear for his death but rather, for yours. if anything were to happen to him, who would protect you?

it doesn't help how his enemies were catching hints on his possible weakness now. it all started with that damn bastard from the kamo clan, whom sukuna swears to kill. him and everybody else that could pose as a threat to you, he swears he will kill them all.

a little part of him also starts to fear for his own end. he fears that no matter how long he lives, he might think he doesn't have enough time with you. how could he when you're here, showing the sides or the world he never knew existed? the same world you weaved with every gentle word you say, no matter how insignificant.

sukuna can't get enough of the small smiles that were appearing more frequently when he reaches out to hold your tiny hand in his big ones.

he can't get enough of your soft snores when you're asleep in his chest– no more nightmares haunting your sleep because as long as he's around, any curse would have to fight him to get to you. no curse was bold enough to do so.

and mostly, he can't get enough of your small gentle strokes across his face. your touch was feather light and curious but so so loving that even when your hands were about to be pulled away, his own grabs them and makes them stay.

sukuna has nothing at all to base it off of, but if he had to name what he's feeling right now, it would be along the lines of complete devotion to you – in other words, he suspects it's the feeling these weak humans and yozoru keep preaching about: love.

and he's not denying it– not to himself at least or he can't. during his recent battles, he observes himself ending it as quick as possible.

instead of luxuriating in the thrill of battle, he finds himself rushing to kill his opponent – to end it as quick as it was humanely possible because every second he spends away from you is a second wasted.

he was becoming more precise and ruthless now that he has something to protect.

that's why even when you ask about his murder streak and if he could lessen it, he just ruffles your hair and tells you not to worry.

any sorcerer who has gotten close enough to land their sights on you were brutally tortured until they give up on their life altogether.

however, life can be funny at times. his own fear for your well being is possibly responsible for the curse that now latches onto you, consuming and draining the life out of you and sukuna's forced to watch as you slowly became a husk of who you used to be. so really, it's not funny at all.

he feels helpless and he is. none of the cursed techniques he has could exorcise the curse blooming inside you and spreading through your veins.

he has been warned before and he didn't care. he never fathomed to ever find someone to love so he traded his soul for his fervent reign – a binding vow: any being whose soul remotely gets near his own would ruin itself without any means for its resurrection.

another condition of the vow was for him to forget about it only after it was too late. at the time the vow was made, sukuna had thought, no, he'd known he lucked out by a power at the price of such a feeble condition but now… now he knows how gut wrenchingly wrong he was.

sukuna slumps in defeat at the sight of your weak body fighting itself. all his four hands encased one of yours as he listens to your staggering breaths that slowly becomes more faint than the last.

for the first time, no matter how tainted his hands were of from the numerous people he murdered in cold blood, sukuna finds himself praying; not for salvation or forgiveness but for your suffering to be placed onto him instead.

he has just found happiness with you, and in you, had just started to learn how to love someone so much that all his wicked ways were something he wished he never did. he had been stupid and arrogant – too arrogant. he was sure the heaven and whole generations of people he killed were now laughing at him drowning in his own misery. how the tables have turned on him and humbled him.

“kuna..” your barely audible voice mades him lean closer to your face, one of his large hands coming up to caress your face delicately.

“human. save your energy” sukuna scolds but his tone was not demanding by any means. it was desperate, desperate for just one more second of you.

a faint smile ghosts your almost now deathly pale face “it's not your fault.” you manage to cough out through staggering breaths.

sukuna's world might as well stop. it was his fault, everything was his fault. from the moment he caught a whiff of your sweet sweet blood to when he looked at you as nothing but prey to the moment when you became the sole reason for his existence, it was all his doing. he has taken you and tangled you amidst the string of despair.

his head shakes in denial, no words coming out of both his two mouths. so much to say, so many ways to say it but nothing.

but you know, the four pupils staring at you take the form of hearts, and that tells you everything. it could be just an illusion you'd heard people speak of on the verge of death but it's enough for you.

your sweet blood slowly looses its essence as you close your eyes, the last light inside you leisurely fading away.

“oi human” sukuna calls but there was no response.

“answer me” a plea.

still no answer as your hand slowly goes limp in his own. there was silence and nothing. so much of nothing that was unfamiliar in the otherwise air of curiousity that always surrounded you.

“human.” sukuna's voice wavers as his hands come to cup your too peaceful face. he searches for any signs of life but he finds none. before he knew it, a drop of water landed on your clueless yet beautiful features, then another and another.

the monster was crying. not just crying – he wept.

his entire body shakes as he lets out his pain, holding onto you desperately as if that would bring you back.

“human” he dries away his own tears on your face and brushes away the hair that dared hide even a portion of it.

“you're not a curse. you have never been. you were my blessing, my salvation. you are the best thing that have ever happened to me. you cleared my skies and showed me how it was to love… and be loved.”

sukuna trembled in grief at your loss. the king of curses– reduced to a man in love.

perhaps he wasn't the cannibal here. perhaps you were the one who slowly teared him apart and consumed his very being– merging yourself into his core without him even realising it.

but one thing he knows for sure is that if he were to do it again, he'd let himself be devoured entirely by you. over and over again. to be loved is to be consumed and he's offering himself to you, flesh and bones on a silver platter.

“until next time, my love.” he leans in and places a fragile kiss onto your forehead and that's the first and last time he has a taste of you.

with the last drop of your blood running dry and the absence of the warmth that made you, you; sukuna finds his answer – the reason why your blood tasted so sweet was because he was made to crave it. something he could quench his thirst with but never getting the chance to do so; a punishment perfectly fit for him.

“your deal. i shall agree to it on a condition” sukuna glowers at kamo who only smirks with an ‘i told you so’ written all over his face. sukuna would have slashed him to bits if it weren't for the agreement he agreed to take up on.

“i shall trade my soul to become a curse only if i get reincarnated exactly a thousand years from now” sukuna proposes, no, commands. it is said that a soul is reincarnated only once every thousand years and he wants to make sure he finds you in the next lifetime. maybe then, he'll have enough time with you and if he's lucky enough, be able to love you without bounds.

“that could be arranged” kamo quirks his head in a way sukuna despises. “but she'll have no memory of you. you're proceeding with this knowledge, yes?”

sukuna only narrows his eyes and ignores his question “that is not all. erase her existence from the minds of everyone besides me. generations hence, no one shall know who she is. her name shall be removed from every mouth that speaks of my reign.”

kamo smiles lazily “your soul is not worth that much sukuna”. the man strolls freely in the room, not minding the looming presence of the king of curses. “however, a binding vow could be arranged.”

great. another binding vow. but if that means he'll meet you in a thousand years time, he'll vow as many times as required.

“the grounds of the vow is as follows: you shall be reincarnated only if there appears a vessel suitable to withstand you.” kamo proposes. “your fingers will be cut and hidden in vast areas across the world and you shall only succeed in full reincarnation if you find them and consume them, all while being suppressed by the vessel.”

sukuna frowns and kamo only laughs “do you agree to the vow knowing all the risk it carries?”

conditions and regulations were a pain but nothing could stop a man desperate enough to give up his soul twice. “very well” sukuna agrees.

and that is how the heian era and sukuna's legacy came to an end; sealing himself – and the memories of you only he carries with him – into his twenty fingers, each of which turned into cursed objects scattered far and wide like pieces of puzzle waiting until the time comes for it to fit itself together again.

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trans-axolotl · 28 days

Text

"Much ink has already been spilled on Harris’s prosecutorial background. What is significant about the topic of sex work is how recently the vice president–elect’s actions contradicted her alleged views. During her tenure as AG, she led a campaign to shut down Backpage, a classified advertising website frequently used by sex workers, calling it “the world’s top online brothel” in 2016 and claiming that the site made “millions of dollars from trafficking.” While Backpage did make millions off of sex work ads, its “adult services” listings offered a safer and more transparent platform for sex workers and their clients to conduct consensual transactions than had historically been available. Harris’s grandiose mischaracterization led to a Senate investigation, and the shuttering of the site by the FBI in 2018.

“Backpage being gone has devastated our community,” said Andrews. The platform allowed sex workers to work more safely: They were able to vet clients and promote their services online. “It’s very heartbreaking to see the fallout,” said dominatrix Yevgeniya Ivanyutenko. “A lot of people lost their ability to safely make a living. A lot of people were forced to go on the street or do other things that they wouldn’t have otherwise considered.” M.F. Akynos, the founder and executive director of the Black Sex Worker Collective, thinks Harris should “apologize to the community. She needs to admit that she really fucked up with Backpage, and really ruined a lot of people’s lives.”

After Harris became a senator, she cosponsored the now-infamous Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act (SESTA), which—along with the House’s Allow States and Victims to Fight Online Sex Trafficking Act (FOSTA)—was signed into law by President Trump in 2018. FOSTA-SESTA created a loophole in Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, the so-called “safe harbor” provision that allows websites to be free from liability for user-generated content (e.g., Amazon reviews, Craigslist ads). The Electronic Frontier Foundation argues that Section 230 is the backbone of the Internet, calling it “the most important law protecting internet free speech.” Now, website publishers are liable if third parties post sex-work ads on their platforms.

That spelled the end of any number of platforms—mostly famously Craigslist’s “personal encounters” section—that sex workers used to vet prospective clients, leaving an already vulnerable workforce even more exposed. (The Woodhull Freedom Foundation has filed a lawsuit challenging FOSTA on First Amendment grounds; in January 2020, it won an appeal in D.C.’s district court).

“I sent a bunch of stats [to Harris and Senator Diane Feinstein] about decriminalization and how much SESTA-FOSTA would hurt American sex workers and open them up to violence,” said Cara (a pseudonym), who was working as a sex worker in the San Francisco and a member of SWOP when the bill passed. Both senators ignored her.

The bill both demonstrably harmed sex workers and failed to drop sex trafficking. “Within one month of FOSTA’s enactment, 13 sex workers were reported missing, and two were dead from suicide,” wrote Lura Chamberlain in her Fordham Law Review article “FOSTA: A Hostile Law with a Human Cost.” “Sex workers operating independently faced a tremendous and immediate uptick in unwanted solicitation from individuals offering or demanding to traffic them. Numerous others were raped, assaulted, and rendered homeless or unable to feed their children.” A 2020 survey of the effects of FOSTA-SESTA found that “99% of online respondents reported that this law does not make them feel safer” and 80.61 percent “say they are now facing difficulties advertising their services.” "

-What Sex Workers Want Kamala Harris to Know by Hallie Liberman

#personal #sw #sex work is work #kamala harris #one of the MANY many reasons i hate harris #she directly put so many sex workers at risk. i lost multiple community members because of her #whorephobia #fosta/sesta

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prolifeproliberty · 4 months

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Hey, I'm stumped on this objection, if it's alright, I want your input on this

"For these types of people I always give them a hypothetical situation for them answer So if you knew your wife was going to die by giving birth to the child would you let Your wife get an abortion or would you let your wife die in the child grow up without a mother?"

What do you think?

I would answer that the choice is never actually that simple. We imagine this cinematic moment where the doctor comes out to talk to the anxious husband in the waiting room and says “Sir, we can only save one of them. Should we save your wife or your child?” and he has to make that choice.

That makes a very dramatic movie scene, but it’s not real.

There are three categories of “life of the mother” situations:

1. Very early pregnancy. Mother has a life threatening condition and cannot be kept stable until the child reaches viability (now around 22 weeks with evidence-based best practices). Even in these situations, a direct abortion isn’t the life-saving care. Usually we’re talking about the mother needing a treatment for her life-threatening condition that risks the life of the baby. Most ethical choice is to treat the mother. If the baby dies as a result of the treatment, that is a tragic loss. If the baby doesn’t die, awesome! In this category, there is no way to save the baby without saving the mother, because if the mother died, the baby would too. Ectopic pregnancies fall in this category because there is currently no way to save the baby. If we developed the ability to get ectopic embryos to successfully re-implant in the uterus, that would become the ethical option.

2. Late-term complications. I’m going out of order here for a reason. This is anything where the mother’s life-threatening health issue starts after viability, but especially when we’re talking 30 weeks and on. Baby’s chance of survival with an early delivery goes up rapidly as baby approaches full term. In these cases, if the mother needs immediate treatment for a life threatening issue, she doesn’t actually need her baby to die. There is no reason to choose between the mother and child. A C-section is actually safer than a late-term abortion, since third trimester abortions usually still involve the mother laboring and delivering a dead baby. If the concern, as posed in the original hypothetical, is that she would “die by giving birth,” then she probably just needs a C-section (or a better doctor).

3. The third category is the most complex one. This is when the life threatening issue for the other begins when the child cannot yet survive outside the womb, but may be able to in a few weeks. This is where the difficult decisions are made. This category includes women diagnosed with cancer who might decide to delay treatment to protect their child until their child can be safely delivered. However, even here we can see examples of mothers who choose to receive treatment without first killing their child, and doctors who find innovative ways to treat life-threatening illnesses without harming preborn children.

The true answer is “save them both.” We can’t always - just as any doctor knows in a triage situation they can’t always save all the patients. The decision of who to save is never based on which patient is more human, more valuable, or more worth saving. The answer is instead based on how the doctor can save the greatest number of patients. If the doctor can save everyone, they do. If the doctor knows a course of action means for sure saving one patient, while another might not make it, but the alternative is losing both, then they will choose to save at least one. We almost never see a situation where the doctor has to arbitrarily choose between two patients - the decision is always based on the condition of each patient, the resources available, how much time there is, etc. There are algorithms for this kind of thing.

Basically I refuse to let unrealistic hypotheticals dictate actual policy on saving children.

Because people believe in the “we can only save one, choose!” scenario, we get doctors telling women that they will die if they don’t get an abortion, and then they cry to the media that they had to go to Colorado or California to get their “life-saving procedure.” The reality is that either the doctor could have treated the mother without first killing the baby and given the baby a chance to survive, or they could have delivered the baby and then treated the mother.

Anyone who says they couldn’t do the first option under ____ state abortion law is either lying or ignorant. If the mother’s condition is actually life-threatening, every state allows doctors to treat the mother. Killing a child doesn’t cure any illness.

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 1 year

Text

Protector

Requested by @captaincvans

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, a little bit of Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: your big brother Dean has always been your protector

It started when you were four years old. Dean answered one of John’s phones, and was shocked to hear your tiny voice on the other end.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“My mommy,” you were sobbing into the phone, and Dean’s heartbeat picked up. Had someone hurt the little girl on the other end? “My mommy said to call if-if bad things happened. She said it was my daddy’s number.”

To say Dean was shocked would be the understatement of the century, but he forced himself to remain calm, if only for the little girl who clearly needed help. John had gone out on a job, and Sam had walked to a nearby store to grab some supplies.

“Ok, well where’s your mommy?”

“The monster…he-he…” you broke down into sobs, and Dean didn’t need to hear anything else.

Dean was usually used to waiting for John’s orders before doing just about anything, but somehow now he knew just what to do. Every instinct inside him screamed to help you from the moment he heard your voice.

He didn’t know then, but that instinct would follow him for the rest of his life.

…

Dean’s relationship with you was different than his with Sam. Dean had practically raised Sam, but he literally raised you. The older the boys got, the more John left them for hunts. And there was the age difference; he was only four years older than Sam, but Dean had already grown up and started hunting by the time you came into his life. And after John died, the two of you became closer than ever, and he took on his role as caretaker even more seriously.

So, needless to say, hunting wasn’t in the cards for you. Of course Dean taught you how to defend yourself, but he knew that once you started hunting, you’d be stuck in that life forever, and that wasn’t a choice he was going to let you make as a teenager.

A part of you always wanted to fight him on it, not because you thought you’d love hunting, but because your big brothers risked their lives on an almost-daily basis, and you wanted to be there to help them. However, it didn’t take long for you to realize that being on a hunt would just put them in more danger; Dean would be so worried about you that he wouldn’t keep his head on straight. You weren’t going to be the reason he got distracted and killed on a hunt.

So you stayed behind.

But that didn’t mean that you were always safe.

…

“Crowley I swear, if you touch one hair on her head-“

“Let me guess, they’ll never find the body?”

“Oh no, they will,” Dean’s fists were clenched so hard, his palms were going numb. “They’ll find it, and they’ll keep finding it. Little bits, everywhere, maybe I’ll even drop you in a couple of different states. I’ll cut you up nice and slow, it’ll take weeks before you’re dead, and that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to let you die at all.”

“My my my, someone is very protective about his little pet. However, your mummy should’ve taught you some manners, because you see…” Dean flinched when he heard your screams over the phone. “I don’t like to be threatened, squirrel.”

“Ok, ok!” Dean relented. Your screams stopped.

“Good. Now, here’s my ultimatum,” Crowley’s voice rose in anger, “If you ever want to see this little runt again, the first thing you’re gonna do, is drop the attitude, and show some respect!” Crowley cleared his throat, and returned to his easygoing, neutral tone. “After all, I am the king of hell. And then, after that, you’re going to stop meddling in my affairs. That’s not so bad, is it?”

Dean was about to throw out a snarky response when your voice broke in.

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. He’s just a liar, he’ll betray y-“ your desperate, frightened voice cut off with a high-pitched scream, and Dean could swear he heard Crowley laughing.

“Now now, darling, that’s not very nice. Name-calling is for children. Oh that’s right,” Crowley’s laughter started up again. “You are a child.”

“Stop it!” Not seeing what was going on was driving Dean insane. He could only imagine what Crowley was doing to you. “Alright, Crowley, you get what you want. Just let her go!”

The screaming stopped again.

“Now, that’s sweet, Dean. But I’m afraid I don’t exactly trust your word. So, I’m going have to keep your little rugrat here for a little longer, just to make sure you make good on your promise. Deal?”

“No no no, Crowley you can’t just-“

“I think we’re done here.”

The click that followed might as well have been an atomic bomb.

…

“We got a location.”

Dean had never jumped up that fast in his entire life.

“Finally, let’s go.”

“Dean, hold on,” Sam placed his hand out, stopping Dean in his tracks. “We don’t know how many demons are guarding it.”

“You know what, Sam? I don’t really care. There could be a thousand demons in there for all I care. She’s in there, so I’m going.” Dean brushed past Sam, who reluctantly followed him into the Impala.

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to have a plan.”

“I have a plan.” Dean peeled out of the driveway and sped along the road.

“The plan is get her back.”

…

You heard them before you saw them. It would be impossible not to; the screaming of demons and the thud as bodies hit the floor wasn’t exactly quiet.

However, when the door burst open, it wasn’t your brothers who came in.

Crowley rushed toward you, his hand outstretched to grab you and teleport you with him. A split second before his hand reached your shoulder, the demon blade whizzed past his ear and struck his arm, throwing him off balance and onto the floor. Before he could get back up, Dean was on him, not even bothering with the knife as he pounded on Crowley’s face. Sam rushed in after him, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and pulling him off.

“That’s enough, Dean! Just use the kni-“

Before either brother could move towards the demon blade, Crowley had disappeared.

“No!” Dean slammed his fist against the wall, and was about to do it again when he heard it.

“Dean?”

Never, not even when you were little, had Dean ever heard you sound so small; so fragile. He turned, his gaze instantly softening, his fists relaxing as he rushed to your side. He quickly untied the ropes holding you to a metal chair, and as soon as you were free you collapsed into his waiting arms.

“You’re ok,” Dean’s eyes stung as he gripped you tightly to him. “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

“Is she ok?” Sam stepped up behind Dean, and Dean reluctantly pulled away to check you for injuries.

There was a gash along your cheek, and he saw several cuts on your arms and legs, but what really worried him was the blood covering the front of your shirt.

“Baby, can you…” Dean touched the pool of blood dripping down your stomach. You lifted your shirt a few inches, and he saw a deep cut running along your ribs. Blood was still gushing freely from the cut, and Dean quickly removed his top layer of flannel, pressing it against the wound.

Sam flinched when you cried out, and Dean winced.

“I know, I know it hurts honey. I need you to hold it there, though.” You took the shirt from him and he nodded, “Yeah, good, press it tight.” He glanced around one more time to be sure no demons were coming, before he scooped you into his arms. You cried out again when he jostled you, and he tried to ignore you as he turned to Sam.

“You gotta watch my back, I’ve got her, but I don’t know if there are any more demons still here.”

Sam nodded, taking the demon blade.

“Alright, I’ll drive.”

…

“Do we need to take her to a hospital?” Sam glanced to the back of the Impala, where your head was resting in Dean’s lap as he held his shirt against your cut.

“I’m ok,” your voice was quiet, almost sleepy.

“We should take her in,” Dean insisted.

“It doesn’t look like she’s lost that much blood,” Sam hesitantly argued.

“Dean, I’m ok,” you turned your gaze from your injury to your big brother. “Really, just stitch me up. I’ll be fine.”

Dean relented hesitantly, mostly because he didn’t put it past Crowley to try to alert local authorities to all the bodies he’d left in his wake saving you. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in a hospital while Sam and Dean got arrested.

“Alright, ok. But you gotta stay awake, understand?”

You were silent for a few seconds, and when your voice lifted he could hear the tears you were trying to hold back.

“He wouldn’t let me sleep.”

Dean felt the white-hot anger rising in him, but he forced it down.

“You…but you were gone for three days.”

“I know. But ev-every time I tried to sleep…” you picked at one of the cuts, and Dean got the picture. He glanced up to see Sam gripping the steering wheel with all his might, his knuckles turning snow-white.

“I’m sorry,” Dean’s soft voice was only beat by the softness in his eyes as he looked down at you. “I’m so sorry. But you gotta stay awake just a little bit longer, I’m sorry.”

You knew he wasn’t just apologizing for that.

“Dean, it’s not your fault.”

He turned to look out the window, and you knew he didn’t believe you.

“Dean,” you tried to raise your voice, but it just sent you into a fit of coughing. His head whipped back to look at you, and he squeezed his hand under your head, lifting you up a little so you could breathe.

“Honey, don’t talk, don’t talk. You’re ok, just breathe.”

“Dean,” you took a deep breath, “Dean it’s not. It’s not your fault-“

“Shh, shh,” he insisted, eyes flitting nervously over your face. “Kiddo please, don’t talk.”

“Then say it.”

Dean sighed, and you knew he wouldn’t mean it, but you wanted him to say it anyway.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

…

“I’m sorry,” Dean winced when you sucked in a breath, trying desperately to stay still as he sewed you up.

“I’m ok,” you insisted.

“Ok, I’m done,” Dean tied off the last stitch, and you hesitantly stood and headed to your bathroom to shower off the blood that was all but covering you.

Dean sat on your bed while you were gone, staring down at the blood on his hands, disgusted but somehow unable to get up to wash it off.

He stayed there until you returned, a clean shirt and your pajama pants on. You stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. You tugged on his arm without speaking, and he followed you mechanically as you pulled him into your bathroom.

You turned on the sink water and guided his hands under the flow, rubbing his hands until they were clean and your blood was running down the drain. You handed him a soft towel, and he slowly dried his hands.

The two of you stood there in silence, unsure of whether to move or not. Then suddenly, the two of you moved in sync. He opened his arms just as you moved towards him, and he wrapped you into his arms. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, while the other rested on the small of your back. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew that you could scream it til doomsday and Dean still wouldn’t believe it. So instead you said what he needed to hear.

“I’m ok.”

…

You weren’t the only one who hadn’t been able to sleep during your captivity, and you knew it. Dean looked horrible, his eyes dark and his hair greasy and sticking out in strange angles. You didn’t think you could convince him to eat or shower, not yet at least. He hadn’t left your side in the hour since you got back, and you figured he would want to watch over you while you slept.

So, if you couldn’t make him eat, you figured you at least knew a way to make him sleep.

You let him tuck you into your bed before grabbing onto his arm as he turned to go.

“Stay with me,” you insisted. He nodded and reached to grab a chair.

“No, with me,” you lifted a corner of the blanket. Dean didn’t speak, he just climbed in next to you and let you lean against his arm.

After a few minutes, Dean’s breathing evened out and you smiled.

He was your protector, always.

But maybe there was some ways that you could save him, too.

#dean winchester x you #the winchester brothers #dean winchester x reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester #dean and sam #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #sam and dean #sam x sister!reader #supernatural sam #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #supernatural dean #supernatural

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peachdues · 7 months

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THE DIVINING ROD — PROLOGUE

Obanai’s Tell Me to Stop

A/N: the prologue to Obanai’s installment of Tell Me to Stop, first teased here.

CW: canon setting AU • Reader is the Vine Pillar • blood • angst • scars • mentions of past torture • panic • this fic will be HELLA NSFW so MDNI

From the first day he drew his sword, Obanai Iguro knew life within the Demon Slayer Corps meant accepting two, twin truths.

The first was this: a career as a swordsman of the Corps means one’s life expectancy is cut drastically short. Few make it to adulthood; even fewer to retirement.

The second truth is that your time within the Corps is marked by one or two events: either you live to see another day, or you do not. There is no in between; it is either life or death, and more often than not, the Slayers themselves do not have the luxury of choosing between the two. That choice is finite and there is no gray. Members of the Demon Slayer Corps do not go missing; either they are torn apart and devoured by the very monsters they fight, or they live to see the next sunrise, only to await nightfall once more and thrust their lives back into the fickle, shifty hands of fate.

No slayer is spared that perilous dance, no matter their rank. Mizunotos and Hashira alike all know that their tether to the world they’re trying to save is little more than a fraying thread which grows more tenuous by the day, with every battle won at the expense of the lives lost.

The crows; it is the crows, the harbingers of both victory and death, who keep them apprised of their numbers. Slayers do not go missing; they are either dead or they are not. If there is nothing left of a Slayer to bury, their crow will say as much, and they will still get a headstone in the Master’s ever-growing graveyard. The crows always return, even when their assigned masters do not. It is the expectation; a given.

There is no protocol in the event neither Slayer nor crow returns, and it is that absence which blows a gaping, jagged hole right through Obanai’s understanding of his nature not just as a Hashira, but his very existence as a swordsman.

Because the Vine Pillar has vanished and there is no trace of either her or her bird to be found. There is no frantic, bleating announcement that she’s fallen at the hands of some formidable foe, no mournful sobs of the Kakushi as they solemnly carry a box bearing whatever of her remained to be buried with her brothers and sisters in death.

There was only silence; thick, oppressive, loud silence that is punctuated by the conspicuous gap in the lineup of Pillars gathered for an emergency meeting at Headquarters.

The air between the Sound and Insect Pillars is still; a tear in the fabric of reality, pulled back to reveal that something is wrong, something is out of place.

Something is missing.

Obanai cannot stop staring at it; that space between Kocho and Uzui, the utter absence of matter that should form that familiar face, that signature haori, everything that makes up her and her warmth and her comfort.

Everything he cherishes.

“Then she is dead,” Uzui declares once the Master’s children finish explaining their summoning.

“We don’t know for certain,” a soft voice, feminine and evocative of that which is distinctly pink, rises above their heads at the opposite end of their line. “Missions often take weeks, and she may simply be unable to answer —,”

“No one has seen or heard from her in weeks, nor has there been any sight of her crow.” The Sound Pillar challenges, though not unkindly. He is familiar with the friendship between the Vine and Love Pillars, and he does his best to deliver the blow as painlessly as he can. “Even Y/L/N would not ignore an emergency summons from headquarters, no matter how deep in her mission she might have been.”

Obanai is still staring at the void between his comrades where she should be, but Uzui’s words make his fists clench, the skin of his knuckles white. Beside him, the Wind Pillar shifts, sensing his growing agitation.

His panic.

Though he is inclined to voice his agreement with the pinkette at the end of their formation, Serpent Pillar does not speak. He cannot; not while he is busy retracing the last weeks in his mind, mentally calculating how much time would have passed between that night and the mission she did not return from, and whether there was a chance it was different from the one that haunted his every waking moment.

“Where was she assigned?” Rengoku’s voice was strong and commanding as ever, though if he listened hard enough, Obanai could discern the faintest tremble as the Flame Pillar, too, worried after his absent friend.

“A fishing village in the east.” One of the Master’s twins answers, and it feels like an accusation only he can hear, as Obanai feels the very ground beneath his feet break apart and open wide.

How he wishes the oblivion below the earth would swallow him up.

“She’s dead.” Uzui repeats, his head bowing solemnly.

“She’s not,” both the Love and Flame Pillars insist in unison.

Wide, anxious green eyes peer over the heads of their comrades at him, and Obanai can feel how they burn into his head, beseeching him to say something, anything, but he does not; cannot.

The Master’s pristine garden falls away, as does the rising bickering of the other pillars as they debate the merits of a search and rescue operation; whether they have the numbers or time to spare it any consideration. Whatever they decide, it is without the Serpent Pillar’s vote, because he cannot hear them over the roaring in his ears; the new truth he is forced to bear.

That truism is this: the Vine Pillar is missing.

And it is entirely his fault.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #obanai iguro #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny obanai #kny iguro #obanai x reader #iguro x reader #demon slayer obanai #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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imissthembutitwasntadisaster · 4 months

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The thing about the new hunger games book is that it could be a Haymitch centric story or it could be otherwise and I trust Collins either way, but looking at her themes (propaganda and control) I think there's a lot of room for a story that is definitely about the Capitol, the creation of these specific games, the control and propaganda and power. These are special games, twice as many children stolen as usual, and they should be won by one of the low number districts as usual, powerful, semi-Capitol districts. Everything is poised and planned for.

Except one tribute keeps poking through. He refuses to kill, that's alright, a lot of them don't have the guts. He travels away from the centre, and by all rights should be killed by the arena but he's clever, he works out the poison, the vicious animals, he escapes it all.

Well, never mind, there's 48 tributes and far more interesting things going on than some twelve kid. Until there's 40 tributes, then 30, than 20. President Snow holds watch parties and celebrations, the Capitol bets on winners and losers, tossing around money like it's worthless.

The twelve boy who should be dead has an alliance with a twelve girl until she leaves, not wanting to kill him. She still screams for him when she's killed. He still runs back to hold her hand as she dies.

A sweet gesture. Makes people invested. Still, might not be ideal to show, don't want to humanize them that much, so it's cut. Easy. The games are all under control and only show what Snow wants them to show. The people are happy or content or afraid, but they're all watching exactly what they should be watching.

Until the twelve boy wins. He wins by using the arena, a trick, a twist to it. And the games are trapped in their own making, you see, because the Capitol can't get rid of him. Everyone knows he's the victor because everyone saw. Everything about Haymitch was wrong, everything about his victory was a kick in the teeth to the Capitol. He was a District Twelve victor who won by refusing to play the game properly on a year that was meant to show the Capitol's power. He was out of their control and it hurt them, we know it hurt them, they killed every single person he loved because of it. Haymitch isn't the center of the story, he's the flaw in the perfect code. He takes the control of the Capitol and he bruises it. 24 years later it's broken by another twelve child who held the hand of her friend while she as dying.

#thg #the Hunger games #I think it makes most sense based off themes for haymitch to be. a threat almost.

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bnhaobservation · 2 months

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Todoroki family and chap 430

In case it wasn't obvious by now, I was very invested in the Todoroki family storiline and one of the things that sadden me the most about chap 430 is this image.

We've Enji, or maybe I should say Endeavor, Rei is pushing his wheelchair as he goes somewhere, we don't know where, some want to think he's visiting Touya but it's not said and, around him there are 3 men and a woman.

It's not his children, it's his sidekicks and Hawks.

The final chapter doesn't touch what happened to Natsuo and Fuyumi, we've to assume Fuyumi is happy with her work and Natsuo with his marriage.

We don't know if Touya is still alive but, anyway, he's going to die. Even if we assume he died happily he had said smiling was why they lived their lives. He could keep on living out of anger and grudge but not out of smiles and happiness?

Fuyumi has fought for all those years so hard because she wanted back her family and she basically get nothing, not her old family as Natsuo leaves and Touya dies and it's not even hinted she has a new one as it was Natsuo the one who got a girlfriend as soon as he entered university and marries her basically a year and a half later.

Natsuo is just rushedly married to this character of which we don't even know the name. We don't know if, in the end he visited Touya again or not, we don't know if he ever managed to overcome all the anger and pain he felt inside for how his father ruined the family.

Shouto became a Hero, but his mother is not with him to support him but she is with his father. We don't see his siblings around him, cheering for him. We don't know which effect had on him to reconnect with Touya only to lose him. We're only told he became a good Hero so people don't call him anymore Endeavor's son, forgetting people also looked poorly at him for being Dabi's brother. How did he overcome that? Evidently it somehow disappeared as all the first years are already all his fans and even Dai said all the kids wanted to be like Shouto... but, at the end of the day, we aren't shown Shouto having a good moment with his family, his good moments come from being a Hero and being with his friends.

Even if we assume that, despite having to marry Enji out of duty to help her family, Rei had fallen in love with Enji while their family was having a good time before he turned abusive, and now that she had forgiven him and he stopped being abusive she's glad to be back with him... skipping this was very vaguely constructed she lost 10 years in a hospital and we can't see her with her children. She's supposed to be happy being with him with one of her children dead and one of her children keeping away from his father because just being in the same room with him makes him feel bad.

Mind you, I'm not saying Natsuo should forgive Enji or force himself to be with Enji or whatever but having a person that's related to you that makes you to feel bad just by being in the same room with you so that you've to avoid that person, is not something that's good. If Enji and Rei live together and Natsuo wants to visit his mother he has to make sure to do it when his father is somewhere else. In the past Rei was split between taking care of Shouto, who couldn't be with her other children, and taking care of Touya, Fuyumi and Natsuo, with the result Natsuo felt neglected because he was very small when all this happened and needed his mother... but likely she ended up neglecting Fuyumi and Touya too because you can't be in two places at the same time. Now, instead than having to take turns with Shouto, Natsuo have to take turns with Enji.

Ad for Enji... all his atonement for what? He doesn't manage to rebuild a relation with his children, apparently his sidekicks and Hawks have replaced them, they're conveniently of the right number. His children would have gotten where they were even without his atonement because all we hear is about others helping them, he only get the cool sentence, we see nothing of his struggle. But this is also supposed to be a happy ending for him. Who care if he doesn't have his kids? He has his sidekicks and Hawks his newfound family he would have had anyway had he focused on his work only.

The story tried it's hardest to make me think he cared about his family but then I'm supposed to think he's happy not having any of the sort apart for Rei and a new found family.

Horikishi had already established in the previous chapter Enji would have his sidekicks and Hawks' support, I didn't need a reminder of that.

I needed to see THIS image at the end...

...maybe including Natsuo's girlfriend as he could have introduced her to the rest of the family... or him holding his firstborn and letting Rei see her grandchild.

I needed to see Fuyumi finding someone with whom to form a family since she can't have her own back and she wished so badly for it.

I needed to have this being shown to me...

...or at least to see Touya out of that contraption as he died in peace, a smile on his lips since happiness somehow couldn't save him but grudge could.

I needed to be told something that Enji did that HELPED his kids, that made them be better. Not something vague, I need something concrete. Even if they would never be with him, since he's supposed to atone to them, I need him to make something more than just give them a new house and pay for the bills because he'd been paying bills through all his life so that's not new.

I would have been fine with him watching them smile from a distance or hearing from Rei how they were doing and smiling.

Mind you, I'm willing to believe in Horikoshi's mind Enji now is a changed man and very sorry for what he did and loves his family and yadda yadda but there's a reason why we say 'show, don't tell' and so far Horikoshi is more interested in telling than showing.

I get that in his mind Enji is a character more important than Rei, Fuyumi, Natsuo or even Touya, I would have been fine with all that I've mentioned being shown through his perspective because he cares about his family and so he's happy if they're happy.

If, in all that talking Midoriya does about reaching out to others, what he wanted to point out was Enji had continued to reach out to help his family even if they had cut him out of their lives.

But no, the good part is that his sidekicks and Hawks are reaching out for him. Okay, I can take this as the test trying again to point out Enji will never be a Hero, in the end he's not the one reaching out but the one others have to reach out to help but, again, it was established in the past chapter so I didn't need a reminder and it kind of steps all over his arc of trying to reach out for his family.

In the end the most he does is to just take it when they want to yell at him and let them live the live they want... I do think it's a great thing if an abuser were to realize what he had done to his victims and try to atone. It's kind of a miracle turned true... but there's just too little of it in this story.

Maybe I'm missing some deep cultural context, maybe Enji is doing something AMAZING for his family that Horikoshi thought he didn't need to show because it's obvious to Japanese readers but... but I wish he had shown it. Instead the moment Enji finally stop being a Hero and could do something for his family, the manga ends with his family disregating but I'm supposed to see it as a happy ending.

I prefer it had just been called a sad ending. Bad things happen, I can stomach them but honestly "Ano Hana" makes a much better work at portraying grief and atonement and the same goes for "Koe no katachi".

Horikoshi knew he was selling this manga also to foreign readers. I'm not saying he should have made his manga thinking to them but, if this atonement arc was so important, maybe he should have made it more understandable for us as well. This makes the diffference between a national mangaka and an international one.

#boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #Todoroki Enji #Todoroki Shouto #Todoroki Touya #Todoroki Fuyumi #Todoroki Rei #Todoroki Natsuo #bnha ramblings

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selineram3421 · 10 months

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*has a little idea* I've gotta listen to brain commands.

First Day

Alastor and Child Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ implied murder, mention of kidnapping, mention of heart attack, shake of head=no, fake crying lol, italic red=Alastor's thoughts ⚠

Alastor didn't understand why some demons worried over the little children that ran amuck in Hell.

That is until he adopted one himself.

Small, wide eyed, and frail looking. Of course he'd worry after a glance. But after seeing the pile of dead bodies beneath their feet, it seemed like there wasn't too much to worry about.

So all he had to do was teach them how to make others fear them. Especially after the whole kidnapping fiasco with Valentino.

And what better timing than their first day of school.

You were playing around in the hotel.

Most of it was following Husk around and scaring the other hotel guests. But then Charlie told Alastor the number of complaints from guests about you and your pranks.

"They are absolutely harmless! What's a little scare going to do?", the deer demon said.

"Someone had a heart attack.", Vaggie piped in.

"Nuh-uh!", you popped up out of nowhere, making the two females jump in surprise. "That frog demon croaked! He's just mad that I made him make a funny sound."

The blonde sighs before holding out a flyer to the red dressed demon.

"Look, I know you're just having fun but not all demons think its funny.", she tells you before looking at Alastor. "There's a school for demon children not too far from the hotel, maybe they can meet demons their age and make friends?"

After dinner you and Alastor sat down on the couch in the hotel room and read through the flyer.

"I don't want to go.", you pouted.

"Don't worry my little terror, we'll think of something.", he booped your nose. "Perhaps we can use this as training!"

"Training?", you repeated.

"Yes! We'll use this as an opportunity!", Alastor said as he stood from the couch, turning to hold out a hand for you to take. "Come little one, there's much I have to teach you."

"Remember what I taught you little one!", Alastor says, fixing their coat. "Anything can be a weapon..."

"With enough force and creativity!", they said confidently.

"Correct!", his smile brightened. "Now, let's go show the ladies that you are a proper demon with manners so they feel bad for sending you out. Remember to look sad."

"Hmhmm!", the nod again before taking a deep breath, putting on their sad face and looking down at the floor.

"Perfect.", he approved before leading them by the hand down to the lobby.

Both of the girls were waiting by the entrance doors to say their goodbyes to the little demon.

"We are ready!", Alastor announces.

"Hey! We got them a-", Charlie starts before noticing the little demon's sad face. "..lunch box."

Vaggie squints at them but doesn't say anything.

Though the Radio Demon can see that his little one's sad face is affecting her as well, the moth demon clenching her fists.

"Now, what do we say mon petit?", the deer demon pats their back.

"I'm..", they say but don't look up yet. "I'm sorry for being bad and I'll go to school so..", finally they look up at the girls with little tears starting to well up. "Please don't be mad anymore."

Charlie is obviously affected the most and looks over at her partner, receiving a shake of the head from the white haired demon in response.

The princess takes a breath before handing over the lunch box to the little demon. "Its only for a little bit, alright?"

"Ok..", they say, still keeping up with the act before turning to face him. "Bye Alastor."

"It won't be for long, don't worry.", he 'reassures' them. "I'll pick you up when school is out."

They nod before hugging his side.

He pats them on the head before waving them goodbye as they walk out of the hotel and to the school bus.

Bidding the ladies adieu, Alastor lets his smile widen after turning away from the two, wondering how his little demon will cause chaos.

I can't wait to hear all about it~

*wipes away tears after typing out the fake crying* I was that child huh.

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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angelstate · 9 months

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DadBestFriend!Konig x Young!Reader.

DadBestFriend!Konig who always goes to your dad’s house when he isn't deployed, visits your family more than any of his actual family members because to him, having served in the military by your father’s side meant more than going to Austria and seeing his entitled sister and narcissistic mother, his dad long dead to even remember much of how he was like.

DadBestFriend!Konig who although would never admit it out loud to anyone, does not only visit your house to see your father but also young little you, who he only got to meet when you moved in with your dad three years ago at age 18 to go to the university of your choice and study fashion design.

DadBestFriend!Konig who immediately caught a liking of your sweet and docile nature, appearing with gifts for you at your house door when he knows he isn’t home, and at first isn’t because of any malicious intention, at least not consciously. he just wants to gift you things he knows you like to show you that despite being in his 40s he is just the right fit to be your lover.

DadBestFriend!Konig who pushes the narrative of “age is just a number” into your pretty little head, giving fucked up examples of relationships he knows his colleagues have where the age gap hadn’t been an inconvenience at all. Telling you that if it was so immoral as society make it out to be then a lot of people would be in jail. including your father because he and your mom had a 13 age gap when they got married. (disgusting bastard he is by making an example out of your parents)

DadBestFriend!Konig who visits so often your dad “convinced” him (Konig was the one of the idea) that he should move into the house instead of paying the rent of an apartment he barely used either way. claiming the house had a lot of empty space for him to occupy as he wished.

DadBestFriend!Konig who shortly after moving in, takes 4 weeks of paid leave, saying that he only did it to get used to the house and grow comfortable to living with more people, even though he had stayed so many times over the last 10 years it was difficult to believe he needed time adjusting to anything. The only new addition your dad has had in the last three years was your presence in the house, which seemed to be a blessing more than anything else.

DadBestFriend!Konig who views you as the perfect little housewife, always doing something around the house, cooking dinner and lunch, cleaning and decorating every section of the house that is empty or lacks color. watering the plants every morning as you walked around, pajamas still on, under eye patches, and a face mask on your face.

DadBestFriend!Konig who grows close to you quickly, not that you have anything in common, but he listens to you talk about the stupid little things young people like you are into, He often times swore he wasn’t old school, that he was a progressive man despite his age, but in reality, he wished nothing more to shut you up when you talked about wanting to work and build your career when you finished university instead of marrying someone and being a stay at home wife.

DadBestFriend!Konig who agrees with you that women shouldn’t get pregnant in their 20s. He is progressive in that at least, he knows and has seen how women resent having children so young and don’t get to experience drinking or going out. His mother was one of those women, she resented him for having him when she was 19 years old, (even though any time she brought it up he would tell her she should’ve kept her legs closed) and even more so when his dad abandoned her not even three months after he was born.

DadBestFriend!Konig who pretends to change his mind about certain topics of women being independent, playing the long game of slowly making you change your mind and have a more conservative look about certain things, the ones he knows that he needs you to have in order to make the perfect little housewife out of you.

DadBestFriend!Konig who can’t help but smile when you ask him to go shopping with you, saying that he always seems to find the most modest clothing items that had started to grow into you after Konig spent the last 2 weeks showing you and discussing how it looked well kept and professional, not outright calling it modest as to not trigger your brain into thinking he was trying to suppress your more revealing clothing style (he was though, he was really trying to suppress your “slutty” way of dressing)

DadBestFriend!Konig who doesn’t give a fuck about changing your mind about sexual modesty in the slightest, because he knows that you were too focused on your studies to sleep around, he knows you don’t like one-night stands and that guys your age don’t know how to treat women right. He feels no need to put effort into keeping you away from sexual interactions because you seem to be pretty opposed to them all by yourself.

DadBestFriend!Konig who only realizes that it also means you are pretty opposed to sleeping with him after you tell him that you aren’t looking for a partner at all and you rather just focus on yourself and your goals, that maybe after you finish your career you would consider looking for someone.

DadBestFriend!Konig who decides to double down his efforts and starts to be more pushy, leaning into you when you are cooking something, asking about the dish you're making as he cages you in between the countertop and him, pressing his chest against your back, his breath brushing against your neck, making you shiver, a small twitch of your shoulder that you don’t notice but he does, making a mental note your neck is sensitive.

DadBestFriend!Konig who is aware that sharing his most intimate problem with you isn’t appropriate but doesn’t give two fucks, telling you that is been so long since he slept with someone, that being a Colonel has left so little time available for him to meet women, that he is nothing short of pent up but doesn’t want to sleep with a woman he has never met before, needing a sort of connection before having sex.

DadBestFriend!Konig who knows he is not only being pushy but also borderline manipulative and can’t bring himself to care no matter how much the guilt eats him alive, and at times he wishes he had met you later in life so it wouldn’t be immoral of him to go after you, but God, aren’t you the perfect woman for him despite your young age and lack of experience in every aspect of life.

DadBestFriend!Konig who has an extremely big amount of self-control, having played a year-long game of playing with your mind, making you more and more open about the fact that older men treat women better, know more, and can protect you like no boy your age could ever do, giving you a more traditional look at life. He doesn’t give a fuck about having kids though, that’s why he never tried to change your mindset about being child-free, God knows he would kill himself if he ever had a kid to take care of.

DadBestFriend!Konig who pretends to act surprised when you confess your love to him, saying his words back to him about age being just a number and if people don’t like it then they should look away.

DadBestFriend!Konig who pretends to think about saying yes to you, pretending he cares about your youth and your ability to live it if you were with him, not because he actually cares in the slightest how it affects you, he just wants to hear your argument about it being alright, hearing his manipulative words that he fed you for a year finally coming from your mouth.

DadBestFriend!Konig who immediately jumps at the opportunity to claim his “boyfriend privileges” the moment you say yes to being his lover. more or less dragging you to your room and throwing you on the bed, claiming on top of you till his thigh is between your legs, pressing against your covered cunt, feeling you throb at the small contact, unaware of the long night ahead of you. (Thank God your father had been deployed 4 days before, leaving the house alone with no risk of you being heard by him if you moaned too loudly.)

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig call of duty #konig x y/n #konig smut #older!konig #young!reader #cod x reader #kortac #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #dadbestfriend!konig #fanfic #cod men #call of duty x reader #call of duty warzone

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gallusrostromegalus · 11 months

Note

Speaking of public health. What was the soul society reaction to the eradication of small pox like?

"You notice there's a lot less dead babies these days?" Iba asked in the middle of one morning's office work.

"Fewer dead babies." Komamura corrected without thinking. "Less is for things you measure by volume, fewer for things you count. We do not measure dead babies by volume."

"Oh. right." Iba nodded. "Yeah, that wouldn't be right."

After a moment, what his lieutenant actually said caught up with him. "Sorry- force of habit from living with a Librarian." Komamura shook his head and looked up from the monthly intake statistics analysis report, peering at Tetsuzaemon Iba through the narrow gap of his helmet. "What do you mean, fewer dead babies?"

"I dunno, it just occurred to me. When I started the academy in the 40's- right after the catastrophe- we did a student tour of the 7th division's recently deceased souls intake queue, remember?" Iba waved his hand leaning back in his chair, apparently uncertain of where he was going with this either, but articulating his thoughts.

"I believe so. I had just taken over from Captain Kotsubaki." Komamura nodded, patient. Chikane Iba was an excellent shinigami and had done a magnificent job running the third division, but she had a tendency to talk over and bulldoze her son, so Komamura had learned to be patient when the young man when he felt like he should share a thought.

"Yeah, yeah- Not gonna lie Boss, you scared the crap out of me back then." Tetsuzaemon laughed. "-But the thing that stuck out to me that day was just. The sheer number of Infants and little kids in the line. the guy giving us the tour- I think it was Old Ito, actually- He said that one in five babies in the living world didn't live to see their fifth birthday."

"An improvement even back then- it was one in three children when back when I started in the 1840s." Komamura nodded. "It's funny that I frightened you- Captain Aikawa apparently headhunted me for the 7th because Kaname told him about how the children at the library used to use me as playground equipment."

"Good grief." Iba blanched. "So, what, he threw you in the deep end with all the dead kids?"

"In Captain Aikawa's defense, I did volunteer to handle children's cases. As sad as a frightened infant is, it's infinitely preferable than dealing with the deceased who are angry."

Iba frowned, opened his mouth like he was about to object, reconsidered, closed it, considered further, rocking his head from side to side, and then nodded. "I- yeah, Yeah, that tracks."

"You were saying though?" Komamura laced his fingers in front of him, leaning forward to listen.

"Oh! Well- not as much these days but back then, every family had like seven and eight kids, you know? And I realized that, well- almost everyone I know has a dead sibling or two? Almost every mother lost a child- Gods know my mother's a basket case but even getting a cold could send her into fits. If something had happened to me when I was a tyke- I don't think she would have pulled through."

Komamura nodded enough for Iba to see his helmet tilt to indicate he as still listening.

"I- I don't actually know where I was going with this, but I was reading that report earlier and there's a note from Shita-san at the end that this is the first month we haven't had a kid under the age of five in the intake queue. Ever."

Komamura flipped though the pages of the report to read the hand-written note at the end. "That is excellent news!"

"Oh! Yeah! It's great!" Iba nodded enthusiastically. "It just- I don't know, I guess it just snuck up on me and I'm so used to hearing something went wrong I guess I don't quite know what to do with good news?" he shrugged.

Komamura pondered this for a moment. "Hm. Well. Take heart, to start. But I see what you mean- it's a tremendous achievement, but not one we contributed to, and a "No Dead Babies This Month" office party feels in poor taste at best."

"Oof, yeah- especially if next month there's an accident or something and there's a whole bunch in the queue." Iba nodded. He considered things for a moment.

"-What happened that there are le- fewer dead babies, actually?" Iba frowned. "-Whoever it is, it would be appropriate to toast them and make an offering in their name to the Gods of Good Fortune, I think. Also do more of whatever they did."

"That IS a good idea!" Komamura smiled under his helmet. Perhaps it was his training as a priest, but he did enjoy an offering of goodwill ceremony. Also, nobody would ask him to drink- just pour any alcohol he was offered on the statue of the relevant deity. "I think- It's probably in our statistics, if the tenth division doesn't have an idea already. Can you collect the cause of death data for young children for the last-"

He was interrupted by the thunderous footsteps of someone sprinting towards the office, immediately followed by a tall young woman with short white hair throwing the door open, red-faced and winded.

"THEY DID IT! THE MAD BASTARDS THEY DID IT!" She shouted with wild excitement.

"Isane-? Uh, Miss Kotetsu?" Iba flustered.

"Please keep your voice down-" Komamura said through gritted teeth, trying not to growl at being suddenly shouted at. "Who has-?"

He was interrupted by Miss Kotetsu bolting right up to his desk and shoving a newspaper into his face hard enough to actually wrap around his helmet in excitement.

"SMALLPOX! IT'S GONE!!" She shrieked with joy.

"-gone?" Iba asked, bewildered as Komamura gently took the newspaper from her and pulled it back to actually read it. It was a newspaper from the living world, dated that morning- someone had gone through some pains to get it back to the Seireitei at speed, but the news was worth it:

SMALLPOX IS DEAD!

"TOTALLY ERADICATED! EXTINCT! KAPUT! IT HAS CEASED TO BE!" She bounced excitedly. "IT IS AN EX-PANDEMIC!"

"So like. Nobody has it this year?" Iba tried.

"Nobody has it this year, or will ever have it again, if I'm reading this right." Komamura muttered in awe. "Thanks to an aggressive worldwide vaccination and disease protocol program, there have been no human cases of the disease for several years. Since there are no people infected, there is no way for the disease to come back..."

Both men stared into space, the news almost unbelievable.

"Well. That does explain the Less Dead Babies thing." Iba nodded.

"Fewer Dead Babies." Komamura and Isane corrected in unison.

"I mean yeah that sure is part of it because Smallpox was the number one killer of infants in the living world for a long time there, but there's a whole bunch of stuff that's really cut down on infant mortality in the last few decades in particular." Isane nodded.

"We were JUST Talking about that!" Iba said, excitedly. "-Good to know you guys in the fourth are keeping track of that, It was gonna take forever to pull out that data..."

"Oh, could you pull it out anyway Tetsu-kun?" She asked. "-That's most of why I came over- I mean, to share the good news first, but Unohana-Taicho is planning on using this to really push a widespread vaccination program in the Rukongai and having the numbers to back us up would be really helpful!"

"Oh! Uh, sure!" Iba blushed.

"...You know this young lady, Tetsu-Kun?" Komamura lightly teased.

Both of the young people twitched and bowed to him, pointing at each other and speaking at once.

"Oh! I'm sorry Sir, I'm fourth division third seat Isane Kotetsu, i just know Iba because we were in the same class at the academy-" She babbled.

"-this is Isane Kotetsu, she's the smartest person I know and she saved my life from a lizard one time!" He waved excitedly.

"...That lizard was not going to kill you." She sighed, covering her face in embarrassment. "-I mean, if you developed a sepsis infection from the contaminated wound it might have made you very ill but that would take weeks and we have antibiotics for that, the lizard itself wasn't all that dangerous."

"It was INSIDE my LEG!" Iba gestured to his right thigh.

Komamura slowly tilted his whole torso sideways at Iba, hoping that sentence might make more sense at a forty-five degree angle. "...How?"

"I. Uh." Iba stopped, realizing his story was maybe not one he should be telling his boss. "I was. um. Out camping with the lads back when I was in the 11th, and a lizard climbed into my cot and I was. not totally awake and thought someone was trying to cop a feel and well you know, that's behavior you respond to with force so I rolled over and tried to stab the intruder's hand and. Uh. Missed."

Komamura continued to stare at him blankly.

"There was. screaming. lotta flailing, blood, general mayhem sort of thing. And in the confusion the Lizard.... climbed. inside the hole. In my leg. Sir." Iba explained, slowly crumpling behind his desk.

Komamura sighed deeply.

"-but Miss Isane was right there and actually kicked Ikkaku halfway across the camp because he was trying to lure it out with a Banana and generally being useless and she just grabbed that sucker and ripped him right outta there and had the wound packed and sealed in less than a minute and I even got to finish doing boot camp!" He rallied, cheerfully waving at Isane in hopes of distracting his captain with how cool she was.

"...What happened to the lizard?" Komamura asked, warily eyeing her through the gap in his helmet.

"Oh! He was really, really human acclimated and sneaked into my medkit rather than go back into the wild, so Harry lives a very spoiled lizard life in a terrarium in my room at home! Though it's actually my sister's room now but he still gets all the mango and smashed beetles he can eat!" Isane nodded cheerfully.

"You named a lizard. Harry?" Komamura asked slowly.

"...Iba-san named him, actually." She blushed.

"Ironically!" Iba protested. "I'm only mostly stupid, sir."

Komamura sighed deeply and once again regretted that his disguise would not let him rub his face as needed. "Alright. Thank you for the announcement, Miss Kotetsu. We will get that data to you in a timely manner- was there anything else you needed"

"Oh gosh, there was something else, what was it-?" She tapped her chin, trying to remember.

There was the distant sound of explosives, and all three of them turned to see what looked like midday fireworks going off at the 4th.

"Oh Right! Unohana-taicho requests your presence at the 4th as. Um. 'Designated Non-Drinker and Unarmed Combat Specialist' because the party was getting kind of wild when I left actually-"

Komamura sighed, and picked up Tenken from his stand and started tying the zanpaktou to his belt anyway.

---

The following morning, a small party arrived at the local shrines to The Gods Of Good Fortune, bearing offerings on behalf of the living world's World Health Organization and the handful of names they'd been able to glean from the living world newspapers, and nursing varying degrees of of hangover.

Komamura lead the party, having gotten them up at a slightly malicious 5AM to be there first thing in the morning. Tetsuzaemon and his friends from the 11th he insisted come along and 'suffer with me, as my sworn brothers' were quite pained but doing their best to hold it together.

Shunsui was a veteran of this nonsense and was hiding the pain very well behind his longtime party companions, Ukitake and Unohana, who seemed so extraordinarily cheerful that Komamura had to conclude that they were both still significantly chemically altered. He couldn't fault Unohana- they were faint and only visible on the rare occasions she let her hair down, but just below her left ear there was still the faint divot scars from surviving her own infection.

Isane had celebrated just as hard as the 11th Division lads, but had also had the good sense to alternate beer and water and take both aspirin and some sort of horrible pink goop that apparently relieved nausea before passing out under a table and had woken up only slightly groggy.

Komamura's new friend Harry the Lizard- a remarkably loquacious and quick-witted reptile -had taken up residence inside his helmet, lightly intoxicated on the cocktail fruits people had kept feeding him, and was politely nestled in the thick fur of his neck to ward off the morning cold.

The rituals of gratitude for this miracle, and asking the Gods to bless those who had worked so hard went smoothly, and Komamura couldn't help but notice when he turned around that Miss Kotetsu had opted to lean on the shoulder of 'Tetsu-kun'.

It was not often Komamura started the day with the feeling that everything would turn out alright, but as he watched Tetsuzaemon cautiously but gracelessly take Isane's hand and her squeeze it back on the way back down from the shrine, he felt like the feeling might stay this time.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach fanfiction #bleach #sajin komamura #tetsuzaemon iba #isane kotetsu #long post #infant death mention #disease mention #injury mention #it's funny I promise

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