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merakiaes · 3 years

Text

Gentle Blue Eyes - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested: By @elia-the-bibliophile

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: Mentions of domestic abuse and not wanting to be alive. Not proofread so apologies in advance for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. Please reblog and comment to keep this blog going and to motivate me to write more fics.

Wordcount: 6176

Summary: As an heiress from the big city of London, the daughter of a powerful man and wife-to-be of a stranger chosen for you rather than by you, your value as a young lady has always been determined by men. When you decide that you’ve had enough and abandon the life forced upon you, you should’ve known better than to let your guard down, but you couldn’t help it. Luckily, you’ve made new connections and formed new bonds while on the run, with people who would do anything to keep you safe from the people of your past.

Much like most other women alive in and before your time, your value had been determined by another man all your life.

Your value was not determined by what you accomplished in your life, what good deeds you did your fellow human beings and the world you all lived in, or who you were as a person. Instead, your value was determined by how men depicted you.

From the day you were born and up until your twentieth birthday, your value had been judged depending on how good of a daughter you were to your father.

Did you hold your tongue in situations that tested your patience in order to save him from a public social fiasco, no matter how utterly disgustingly men may have been treating you and talking to you? Did you stand silent and obedient at his side while he introduced you to multiple men of high status and offered them your hand in marriage, no matter how appalling the men in question may have been? Did you follow his every order and instruction on how to please and appeal to the male population of the world, no matter how much you had to violate yourself in order to do so?

Yes, you did. You did all that and a little more like the good, compliant daughter and woman you were. Why? Because you knew that you would always be living in a man’s world, and your parents had both emphasized your entire life what horrible things you might have to endure if you chose to go against the societal stream.

So just like you had done your entire life and been taught to keep doing until the day you died, you brightly smiled and bowed by your knees when your father introduced you to your husband-to-be.

With gentle green eyes, blonde combed-back hair and dimples that could make any girl swoon, he smiled back, bowing his head and placing a kiss on your knuckles; a kiss equally as gentle as his eyes.

For the first time in all your life, you felt as if the stars were finally aligning in your favor, that you would finally be free of your father’s tight grip and allowed to live more freely. Maybe this man would be your savior, you had thought as you stood before him, smiling from ear to ear at his handsomeness and everything but aware that you were looking into the eyes of the devil.

His name was Steven Burton and just like every other man in the world, he was not as gentle as he outwardly seemed.

All your life you’d been taught by your father and mother how to be the perfect wife, how to keep a man pleased and interested. It had been tolerable then. After all, all you’d have to do was smile, nod, agree, and remember their words.

But it was something else entirely to have to live up to those lessons, and even more so to be ordered around by an actual husband. Or well, you weren’t married yet, of course. But you might as well have been, because Steven already acted like he owned you.

And in a sense, you guessed he did.

Steven and your father had signed on it the day after you’d first met the former, your own parent giving you up to a man he knew wouldn’t be good to you. That’s the first time you really understood that you were more of a mere object in their eyes, less of an actual woman.

But you knew your place and smiled. You smiled through the countless scoldings, and you smiled through the countless slaps and shoves, all of which you’d get even after the smallest of mistakes. Spill an inkling of a drop of tea on the floor, and that’s all that was needed.

This went on for months while your father and fiancée planned the wedding; you were, of course, not allowed to have a say in any of the arrangements. You were only a woman, after all, and a woman’s job was to stay quiet and fill the needs of her man. Nothing more, nothing less.

The date of your wedding was set to be in the middle of June, in the biggest church in England with more high-up men that you cared to remember the names of. You dreaded it more and more for every day that passed, and when you were only a week away from the set date, you got sick with consumption.

You were on your death bed in a matter of days, not being able to eat, drink, nor properly breathe, and for the first time in a long time, as you laid in your bed staring into the ceiling with your mother by your side, you smiled sincerely with only one thought running through your head.

Finally.

You thought that you’d finally be free of the men in your life, free to live your own way in heaven, because you had done everything right in your lifetime, lived every day according to the bible. You knew that you’d be deserving of a place up in paradise and you knew that things up there couldn’t be like how they were down on Earth, because this life you were living… Well, it was nothing short of hell, so even death would be preferred.

But by miracle, just as you’d made your peace, just as you realized you were ready to go, you started to get better. And you found yourself crying, mourning, over the fact that you didn’t die, and it was only then that you realized how truly horrible it was.

How horrible it was that you considered yourself lucky for getting as sick as you did because you’d rather lay on your deathbed and never see the light of day again than marry the man you had been promised to.

All your life, your value as a woman had been determined by how other men depicted you. From birth until the end of your teens, you were judged on how good a daughter you were to your father. Now, you were being judged on how good of a wife you were to your husband and soon enough, you would be judged on how good of a mother you were to your children.

You realized that as long as you stayed there, with your family, your value as a woman would never be determined by yourself as a person. You’d never even get to be your own person, as long as someone else was pulling the strings and making every decision for you.

So you did what you had never, in your entire life, done before; you abandoned your womanly obligations and responsibilities, vowed to never stay silent at the order of a man again, and ran.

You ran from one place to another, to another, to another, for longer than you could keep track of, taking more names than you could count, hiding from your father and fiancée’s spies that you knew couldn’t be far behind while simultaneously searching for your place in the world.

Where exactly a woman of such high status as yourself would end up, you had no idea. But the last place you’d ever see yourself was as a barmaid in the slums of Small Heath, Birmingham. And yet, that’s where you ended up.

You took the name Evelynn Bailey the second you crossed the invisible border of Small Heath, just like you’d taken other names for every other place you had settled down for various periods of time.

Harry, the bartender of the local pub called The Garrison Pub, greeted you as you entered for the first time, politely asking you how he could be of assistance.

You still knew one thing for sure after being on the run from your family for so long and that was that you were still just a woman living in a man’s world. But another thing you had quickly come to learn after leaving home was that, although still sexist and misogynistic on various levels, a lot of men saw women as more than just man-pleasers. They saw them as people.

You had run into a lot of men during the time you’d spend on your own, and not even the bad ones were as bad as the men you had grown up with had been. More and more you realized that the riches your family sat on just had to have been a contributing factor to the way they’d always felt like the world, especially women, owed the something.

Harry was one of the good ones, you knew that as soon as he met you with a smile. So you didn’t waste any time in asking him what you came to ask. Harry was hesitant, saying that he’d love to help you out and offer you a job as a barmaid, but you were just… too beautiful.

At that point, you’d already come to terms with the fact that your father and fiancée had been more extreme than most, and told Harry that you could handle any man in the bar, should anyone ever give you any trouble.

And that was it. He agreed to a trial night and everything went smoothly.

Who would’ve thought a shy little bird such as yourself could have social skills good enough to have every man in the pub up on their feet and singing within the first hour? Not you, that’s for sure. And yet, that’s what the Shelby clan was welcomed with when they first came to join the party that night.

All of their eyes found you immediately, laughing and singing and being spun around by Jeremiah Jesus as well as one could be spun in the small space behind the bar.

You had never gotten to let loose like this in your entire life and Tommy knew that the second he saw the way your face lit up.

For a woman to be that comfortable and off-guard in a room full of drunk men, she’d couldn’t have lived an easy life, he realized, and was instantly drawn to you like a moth to a light, fascinated by the fact that you could still be so sweet and gentle after obviously having gone through hell.

So Tommy did with you what he hadn’t done with any woman since the death of his lover before the war; he got emotionally involved and, eventually, emotionally attached.

It quickly became apparent that the two of you were a lot alike, and the other members of the Shelby family could see immediately that you would be special. It, also, became apparent quickly that you were a big potential asset to the Peaky Blinders.

If there was one positive thing about having had to follow your dad and fiancé around without ever being allowed to say a word, it was that you had become pretty good at being invisible.

Most of the time, they would never even notice you were there and so, you had learned a lot about different businesses, big and successful as well as small and aspiring ones, and how to guarantee success in deals through eavesdropping. Although, it could hardly be called eavesdropping. You had always been there, out in the open; it wasn’t your fault that they’d never noticed you.

Either way, it was quickly discovered that you had a knack for blending in and, through that, getting the gossip; not only in the way that you were incredibly inviting, resulting in a lot of men willingly spilling their life stories to you after one too many drinks at the bar, but also because they’d, a lot of the times, not even notice you were there. And even if they did, what harm could a pretty little barmaid do?

You helped to get Tommy tips for business as well as discussing potential partners based on what you’d heard both in the pub and out on the street, and the two of you helped each other through your company, never going a day without long, deep conversations.

Tommy felt so at ease around you and so easily opened up to you about the things that he had seen and been through that, for a moment, he forgot that you had originally come from somewhere else from which you probably carried heavy baggage, that he’d at some point have to partake in the unpacking of. And for a moment, you did, too.

You should’ve known better, after spending that much time on the run from those who wanted to keep you caged; figuratively and possibly even literally, but for the first time in your life, you had gotten so comfortable that you finally dared put down your walls and let the past go.

And you should’ve known better.

It was early Saturday morning and just like every other day, you found yourself alone in the Garrison, organizing, cleaning, and everything in between in preparation for the crowd that was sure to gather in the pub as the afternoon rolled around.

Cleaning and wiping down the mugs and glasses was always the first thing you did when coming in to work, just in case someone came in needing a drink before the real festivities began, so at the moment, you were in the back unpacking the delivery of whiskey and gin that you’d gotten the evening before.

It was no easy work carrying the boxes inside from the alley when you’d had no experience in life that had allowed you to build any kind of muscle, but you were a determined woman and didn’t mind breaking a bit of a sweat.

But even so, as you were just carrying the final crate of bottles inside, you were grateful to hear the bar-bell ring. Once, twice, and then thrice.

What Arthur had been thinking when he brought in that damned bell, you didn’t know. The drunken men coming in every day and continuously ringing the bell for refills or just to get your attention in order to make a move on you was one thing, but the kids who had been running in and out ringing it endlessly since it got brought in was something else entirely.

So, it was safe to say that you’d developed a kind of love-hate relationship with the dinging piece of metal, but right at this moment, it had never sounded as sweetly as it did.

“I’ll be right there!” You called back to the person waiting, and carefully put the crate of bottles down on the floor.

You blew on a strand of hair that had fallen out of your bun to get it out of your face and wasted no time in making a beeline for the doorway, all while wiping your dirty hands on the apron tied around your waist.

Stepping through the doorway behind the bar, you instantly spotted the form of a man, dressed in expensive-looking clothing and standing with his back turned to you, hiding his face from your view.

You unwrapped the dirty apron from around you and grabbed a clean one from underneath the bar, put on a bright smile, and approached the man.

“I’m sorry for the wait. What can I do you for?”

The words that you’d spoken so many times before fell effortlessly from your lips, with an even more effortless kindness.

But the second the man turned around, revealing his face, you froze. Your blood felt like lead in your veins, weighing every part of you down. Every finger, every toe, every strand of hair even though they didn’t even contain veins, suddenly felt twenty pounds heavier, and suddenly, not even breathing came without effort anymore.

"Hello, (Y/N). Long time no see wouldn’t you say?"

At the sound of his voice, you snapped back to reality again and immediately spun around, wasting no time in heading back for the door to the alley.

But he was fast, strong, everything you weren’t, and circled around the bar and caught your wrist before you’d even gotten the chance to blink.

Your head whipped around and with newfound strength, you glared. You glared up into those monstrous green eyes and tugged on your arm.

“Let. Me. Go.” You demanded with every pull, glare never faltering, but to no avail. The grip he had on you only tightened.

“You didn’t think you could hide from me forever, did you?” He questioned with an amused laugh. “You silly girl.”

It was only when his hand came up to your face that you broke eye contact, turning your head to the side in an attempt to get away from his touch as his fingers made contact with your hair.

But again, it was to no avail. He had you in a grip so tight that you couldn’t move an inch, and his hand soon enough made contact with your cheek; calloused and rough, against silky soft.

“Please, Steven.” Your breath shook as you spoke. “You fought in the war, you got awarded medals for your bravery and honor. You can still do the right thing.”

“And what would that be?” He quirked an eyebrow and moved his face close to yours. “Let you stay here, in the slums? Hm? No, this is no place for a lady.”

You flinched at the feeling of his breath fanning across your face. “I’ve finally found my place. I finally feel like I belong.” You kept fighting back with your words, but your body was already giving in, your wrists turning limp in the grips of his hands.

“You belong with me.” He spat and in quick movements raised a hand to turn your head, forcing you to look at him and once again making you flinch. “What other place could a woman like you have in the world?” He continued, voice now lower as he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You shivered at the feeling and thanked the gods of all existing religions when hearing the front door open.

As an immediate response, Steven’s grip on you tightened and you closed your eyes while his head whipped around to face whoever had just entered the pub.

You, on the other hand, didn’t even need to look to know who it was, recognizing the sound of his steps, the smell of his cologne, and the sensation of his mere presence immediately.

There was a moment of thick silence, and then...

"What’s going on here?" The voice of Tommy Shelby reached your ears, his thick accent sounding like the sweetest music you’d ever heard.

You let out a short breath of relief.

“None of your business, that’s what’s going on. We’re having a private conversation so you can see yourself out the way you came in and come back when we’re gone.” Steve immediately fought back and quickly, you whipped your head around to face him.

“Steven.” You warned in a whisper, shaking your head lightly and giving him a pointed look when he turned to meet your eyes.

You knew fully well what Tommy was capable of and while you wouldn’t mind the man next to you being beaten to a bloody pulp, you’d much rather not be present to witness that happen.

"Evelynn?" Tommy’s voice came again and only then did you turn to look at him, meeting his eyes where he still stood still right in front of the doorway.

“Do you know this man?” He continued in asking, eyebrows raised in a way that showed he was clearly ready to jump him if you so wished.

But rather than encouraging just that, you simply nodded your head, eyes flickering between the two men while one tightened his grip on you in a warning, and the other slowly moved closer in protective caution.

No more words got to be shared between the three of you before the door opened again, Arthur, John and a few of the other Peaky Blinders stepping inside, to a start full of chatter and banter, but everyone falling silent when catching on to the tense atmosphere in the room.

Arthur looked at Tommy, then at you, then at Steven, then at you, and then at Tommy again. “We got a problem in here, Tommy?” He asked his younger brother before turning to give Steven a suspicious eye. "Who are you?"

"Who the fuck are all of you?" Steven shot back without missing a beat.

“We’re the Peaky fookin’ Blinders.” Arthur glared. “This is my pub, and we all happen to hold the women you’re currently threatening very close to heart, so I’d watch my tone if I were you, boy.”

“I’m not threatening anyone.” Steven glared defensively, but the increasingly tightening grip he had on your wrist said otherwise, as did the flinch that followed as a result.

Perceptive as he was, Arthur noticed this immediately, but so did Tommy, and the latter was much quicker to respond to it.

“Really now?” He raised his eyebrows in question, giving the man next to you a good, long stare before turning to John. “Does she look like she’s enjoying herself to you, John?”

“Not in one bit, Tommy.” John, who had been standing by in silence with his eyes narrowed to slits, spoke, and Tommy turned back to the two of you.

“No, she doesn’t.” He repeated. “So why don’t you do yourself a favor and tell us who the fook you are so we can resolve this before any blood is spilled, yeah?”

Steven met your eyes with a warning glare, a glare that said: “be quiet, or else”, before he finally let go of your wrist.

You immediately hurried to cover the bruised skin with the sleeve of your shirt and stepped back, while Steven took a step forward.

“I'm her fiancé.” He said. “And I’m here to take her back home.”

“Fiancé?”

An unreadable expression swept over Tommy’s face for a moment and his eyes flickered to meet yours at the sound of the words. But he quickly regained his composure, straightening his face.

"That’s funny. She never mentioned a fiancé.”

As you glanced up at him, Tommy’s eyes looked nearly dead, his usually vibrant irises looking dull, and you felt a pang of guilt in your chest knowing that your lies were to blame.

“I can imagine.” Steven chuckled back, suddenly acting friendly. “She does have a tendency to lie. A bit of a pathological liar, this one.”

You had to clench your fists in order to not exclaim in protest at the sound of his poor-tasted and not at all accurate joke. Luckily, Tommy was a smart man, smarter than any other man you’d ever met, and didn’t meet Steven’s deceitful humor with even a hundredth of the same enthusiasm.

“I know a liar when I see one, and she isn’t one. You on the other hand…” Was the only thing he said back, and you felt relief flood your entire body at the realization that he wasn’t angry at you.

Steven picked up on the hidden support, as well, and quickly returned to his previous demeanor. “She’s not who she says she is.”

“Is anyone?” Tommy simply raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip turning upwards every so slightly.

His eyes flickered to meet yours for a tenth of a second, just long enough for you to notice the humorous spark behind them, and for Steven to remain oblivious.

“I’m not here to cause any trouble.” The man in question insisted. “I just think you should know the truth about her, that’s all.”

“And what truth would that be?” Tommy kept playing along, clearly finding it amusing that the other man still thought that he’d be able to win with his poor excuses and made-up explanations.

The man in question, however, clearly wasn’t as smart and perceptive as he always made himself out to be, as he had yet to pick up on the fact that the only reason he was still standing inside the pub, was because Tommy was enjoying messing with him.

“Well, I don’t know what made-up alias she’s given you and claimed to be, but her name, her real name, is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and her parents have been forced to put up with her crazy behavior her entire life.” He explained. “She’s a bit unstable and acts out when she doesn’t get her way, that’s all, and I just came here to take her back to London on their orders. So I’m going to do that and be out of your hair, and you have my word that you won’t have to see her again. This isn’t the first time she’s run away, but it will be the last.”

Your blood boiled when listening to him spew out lie after lie and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to react with anything other than shame.

Tommy watched as you lowered your head and started down into the floor, before turning back to the man at your side.

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” He asked, all of the play now gone and, finally, Steven seemed to come to the realization that they weren’t being fooled.

One after the other, Steven let his eyes inspect his audience. First Tommy and then on to Arthur, John, and the handful of Peaky Blinders; he met the eyes of every man in the room and was met with only glares. Glares that were getting fiercer and more impatient by the second.

So finally, he stepped back, and looked down at you.

“We’re leaving, now.” He ordered, but the second his hand reconnected with your wrist, Arthur and John stepped forward with their guns already held in front of them, the latter roughly shoving the barrel into the back of Steven’s head.

The other Blinders quickly followed suit, keeping some distance, but providing protection nonetheless.

Tommy, on the other hand, didn’t need a weapon. The power he radiated with every step as he moved towards you at an antagonizing pace was more than enough to make Steven’s composure falter.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Tommy came to a stop right in front of you, and gave Steven the most dangerous look you’d ever seen a man give another, speaking: “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

The tone of his voice alone was enough to send shivers back your spine.

“You and your jolly band of gangsters don’t scare me, so get out of our way. I’m taking her back to where she belongs, even if I have to fight my way through the lot of you to do so.”

Stephen’s voice was strong and confident, but his eyes, and the way his grip on your hand faltered, contradicted the power behind his words.

“She belongs, where she wants to be, and it looks to me like you’re the last person on earth that she’d want to be stuck with.” Tommy was beginning to lose his poker face, that much was clear judging by the way his eyes got progressively angrier.

In return to this, Steven only got more persistent, squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes. “She doesn’t know what she wants. Like I told you, she’s unwell.” He spat. “She knows that the best place for her to be is at home with me and her parents. Go on, tell them.”

He turned to you.

Surprised, your eyes flickered up to meet his and you saw it immediately: he was scared, and he was angry and humiliated about being put in that position. If you went with him now, you didn’t know what would happen to you.

“(Y/N).” Tommy called.

It was weird hearing him speak your real name, and even weirder to hear it spoken so softly; as if you hadn’t lied to him and his family about who you were for the past month.

You turned to look at him slowly, and he met you not with the anger and impatience he had been showing toward Steven only a second before, but with a genuinely caring gaze as he asked, “Do you want him to stay?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, anxiety rising and getting stuck in your throat. You knew that he already knew the answer, and you knew that he would protect you as well as the fact that Steven wouldn’t stand a chance against all of them in his lonesome.

But still, your hands shook as you allowed your eyes to flicker to meet Steven’s only to be met with a discrete, pointed glare, and yet, you didn’t dare say a word, only quietly shaking your head “no”.

“Okay.” Tommy replied and held your eyes. “Do you want to go with him?”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate this time, the simple but oh, so heavy word falling from your lips in a breath.

Tommy nodded again and turned back to the man beside you, who was now fuming and refusing to look away from you. You could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your face, but you said nothing.

“Well, then I think it’s time for you to go. And you, alone.”

“This is not your business to be meddling with.” The heat of Steven’s glare disappeared when he whipped his head to face his opponent.

He hissed the word like a snake and took a threatening step in Tommy’s direction. As to be expected, Tommy didn’t budge.

“She’s a part of this business, a part of this family.” He simply replied, prompting you to look up slowly. “That makes it my business and gives me the right to meddle however much I want. She’s only been here for a short period of time but over that time, I’ve gotten to know her well enough to know that she’s not the crazy one here. She’s family, and if you mess with one of us, you mess with all of us.”

To prove the truth and sincerity behind the last part, everyone took a step closer, closing Steven in like prey.

At this point, when seeing Steven cornered and confusedly looking around for a way out, you finally managed to gather the courage that you needed in order to push past the man in question and take the empty space beside Tommy, instead.

Tommy instinctively pushed you a little bit behind him, hiding you away from Steven’s sight as well as putting you out of reach.

“Now, because I’m feeling unusually generous today, I’m going to give you two options.” He then proceeded to speak, raising his eyebrows. “Either you see yourself out of my pub and never come back, or I’ll have my men escort you out. And that, I can assure you, will not be pleasant.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Steven attempted to step closer to you, but was immediately shot down as John and Arthur stepped closer.

“Okay, okay. I’m leaving.” Steven put his hands up and backed up again.

Tommy gave the Blinders a simple nod and they immediately began backing up, clearing a straight path for the front door.

“For your sake, I hope neither you nor her parents make another attempt to come to get her back or contact her in any way. She’s one of us now, and we take protecting our family very seriously.” Keeping his stare unwavering, Tommy spoke his final words of warning.

Steven spared the two of you one last look, clenched his jaw, and then he was gone, followed closely by the Blinders who stayed close to the door after his departure, while Tommy took your shoulder and gently guided you further into the pub.

With the storm now blown over, you were left standing still and silent in shame, arms self-consciously wrapped around yourself.

“Are you alright?” Tommy wasted no time in asking, voice low enough only for you to hear.

He bowed his head down in search of your eyes and after a moment of silence, you slowly raised them to meet his. “Yes. Thank you.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows, but it was gone just as quickly as it had gotten there.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), was it?” He lightly smiled.

All you could do was smile back while nodding your head. “Yeah.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He mumbled, slowly reaching his hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, just like Steven had done minutes before.

Unlike when the latter had been the one behind the action, your stomach turned with excitement and contentment, rather than fear and disgust, at the feeling of calloused fingertips brushing against the soft skin of your cheek.

You closed your eyes for a short moment, basking in the feeling, but opened them again shortly after and furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry. For lying to you and for all of this. I completely understand if you-“

“We all have things in our past that we no longer want to be a part of our lives and there will come a time, for all of us, when we need to start fresh.” Tommy didn’t even allow you to finish your sentence.

He pressed his entire palm against the side of your face with a gentleness you’d never gotten to experience personally; you’d only ever seen that kind of emotion be showed to other people, strangers on the streets whom you had always envied.

Your eyes automatically closed at the feeling, but Tommy quickly urged you to open them again with a soft sweep of his thumb over your eyelid.

Letting them flicker open, you met his eyes, and with the most sincerity he had ever spoken in before, he said: “I don’t care about who you used to be. I only care about who you are, here and now…”

That sentence alone was enough to flip your stomach upside down. No matter how much you tried to contain your happiness, you couldn’t hold back the big smile that overtook your features and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

His hand left the side of your face, slowly sliding down your neck and shoulder to stop at your upper arm, where he rubbed soothingly slow circles with his thumb. Eyes closed and hearts beating hard, the kiss was short but satisfactory nonetheless, the two of you coming apart with parted lips and spinning heads.

You stood in silence for a short moment, before he let out a slow breath, once again getting serious.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked quietly, genuinely, caringly, and while asking the question, he reached for your hands, accidentally putting pressure on the darkening bruises.

Before you could help yourself, you flinched, and he instantly reacted by looking down and carefully pushing up your sleeve.

You watched his face turn from one of genuine concern to burning rage at the sight of the purple and blue skin that had previously been hidden from sight by the lettuce edge hem of your sleeve.

He let his fingers hover above it but in the end, he didn’t touch the mark again, instead softly dropping your hand, erasing all anger from his face and taking your face between his hands.

“No more secrets from now on, eh?” He joked with a smile, and although you knew he was upset, you smiled back, nodding your head.

“No more secrets.”

“Good.”

You remained standing there for another few second before he leaned up to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Put some ice on your wrist and take the rest of the day off. I’ll come by your house later and we’ll talk.” He mumbled against your skin.

You replied with a nod once he pulled away again, and with one last shared glance watched him turn around and head for the door, where the others were still patiently waiting, murmuring among themselves presumably to give you the privacy you needed.

The second he turned away from you, his rage returned, as he marched across the room rather than walk the way he normally did.

“I want all of you to keep an eye out for that man. If he sets his foot on Small Heath soil again, you bring him to me.” Was the last that you heard before the door slammed shut behind them.

As they turned a corner some way down the street, they disappeared from your view, and left you in your lonesome to think about those gentle, blue eyes.

Tagged: @lucillethings @marvelously-flawed @springsoulofengland @lovelynervouskingdom @vintagedaydreams @caelys @thesassmisstress

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(I noticed that a lot of people have either changed their usernames or removed their accounts since the last time I posted a Peaky Blinders fic, because I can’t get the tags to work and also can’t find the blogs. So if thelonewolfdies, knrivera16, peakyhermione and fanficflaneuse see this and still wants to be tagged, let me know and I’ll write up your new username if you’ve changed them. Of course, newcomers are also welcome to join my tag-lists. Comment and reblog! <3)

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder x reader #arthur shelby #john shelby

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

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

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

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Modern era

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So when do I get to meet him?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“First name, got it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A week later

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

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

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

Damn him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

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

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

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

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

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

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

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

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 3 years

Text

HASO, “An Analysis of Humans.”

Guess my brain wanted to write a partial scholarly paper today, so I guess this is what we got. Added in text sources to make it seem more legit. Lol

An Aggregated Summary of Human and Alien Comparisons

By Dr. Krill, Dr. Katie Quinn, and Dr. Adric Dracondi

It has long been known, since humans were first introduced onto the galactic stage, that humans are, arguably, the most powerful sentient alien species in the known universe. These are not simply popular conjectures by nonscientific minds, but the scientific community itself has conducted multiple studies regarding the adaptability and prowess of the human in comparison to other species. Many of these studies have examined, intelligence, hunting prowess, strength, and adaptability as their primary focus, (Diss, A., Wallin, G., and Millard; Wix and Veen). Based on these prior studies, this paper will attempt to summarize the overall strength of a human based on their homeworld evolution, comparison to other species, and their technological interplay.

Humans have existed on their home planet of earth for roughly 200,000 years. In comparison to other alien species, they are rather young, and still within the historical memory of the Rundi, who have existed through two major technology jumps, leaving much of their older historical records lost to time (Keple, J., et, all). Humanity began its life in the Miocene Epoch climbing through trees in the African savanna using both their feet and hands as tools for climbing. During this time they developed the ability to stand upright in order to use their hands for foraging. This gave them an increased ability to forage, and allowed them to share their food between pack members creating, what we now understand to be, the human’s social bonds (Keller, A., Winzer, C, V., and Pellar, Q). Of course, this wasn’t the only reason for human’s increased social bonds. Sometime during this period, the African Savanna went through a period of natural deforestation, reducing the number of trees humans could climb. For this reason, they were forced to turn to the ground where larger predators lurked (Huntsman, J,. Et. Al). At this point in time humans did not have many advantages against large predators, and even as of now, an unarmed human against most mid sized predators is going to lose. Compared to their own planetary predators, humans are not very fast, not very strong and not particularly dangerous when viewed alone. However, one of the human’s greatest advantages was originally their pack sizes encouraging cooperation among members to both protect each other and watch for predators. Predators would be much less likely to hunt a human in a large pack, sut as they are less likely to hunt other animals if they are in large groups preferring to attack those who are alone, weak or sick (Keller, A., Winzer, C, V., and Pellar, Q).

Why then, were humans able to survive at all as they have some serious strategic disadvantages. Humans are slow, have no trees to climb, poor smell , arguably por hearing, and dismal strength in comparison to savannah predators. Furthermore, the transition into humans walking upright caused the narrowing of the pelvic bone, which would become an issue as humans continued to evolve. The answer to this question comes with later iterations of the evolved humans. After thor descent from the trees, humans gained a few important abilities: first of all they lost all of their fur giving them the ability to sweat, their legs were lengthened and their arms were shortened giving them a superior sense of balance for throwing, and their cranial size increased giving them the ability to use and create tools for cracking bone which would aid them in foraging: the increased brain size would later give them the unique ability to speak. These two distinctions being important precursors for sentient life (Wheeler., R, Winter, F., And Nix., L).

The human ability to sweat, coupled with their upright walk gave humans the natural ability to run while carrying tools, such as spears and weapons. Early humans evolved for running long distances. The arches of their feet act as springs which depress and spring back as they run. Tendons in the back of the ankle do the same, while powerful muscles in their lower backs and butts keep them standing upright and provide power. Humans keep their balance using muscles in their shoulders, and the swinging of their arms gives extra momentum and balance. The head is held in place by special tendons on the sides of their necks, while their eyes and brains correct for the bouncing of their gait. Furthermore, while other animals require panting and shade to cool off, human sweat rolls into the skin and then evaporates, cooling them off as they move. In this way , humans are superior at long distance running and often used pursuit predation to run their prey to death before spearing them with tools they made (Dillinger, F., and Walker, P). While many animals on their planet are capable of throwing, humanity’s long legs and short arms gives them the superior balance required to throw hard without losing their balance giving them the advantage of long distance weapons. Coupled with tool making,, humans did not have to directly interact with much of the prey they were hunting.

During this time humans grew more socialized and pack oriented As their brains got bigger, childbirth became more dangerous, and their offspring were forced to be born earlier and more underdeveloped than ever before. Packs grew in size as did family groups. Their ability to speak was probably one of their greatest accomplishments, though ironically, the drop of their larynx into their neck, which supported the transition to speaking, also made them more prone to choking (Huntsman, J,. Et. Al). As the climate on earth gradually began to change, humans moved north using their tools and abilities to survive in colder and colder climates. Different iterations of humanity formed, the Neanderthals VS the Sapiens for a time before the Neanderthals eventually merged with the Sapiens or died out. Humans gained the ability to bond with other animals -- a trick which only the Rundi have separately managed. In turn this sparked the rapid evolution of technology which eventually led them to space travel.

Humans may appear impressive to most outside alien species, but on their planet, domination came about only because of luck, and adaptability. Their evolution to walking on two feet was the catalyst for them being smart enough to out maneuver heavier and more dangerous species.

Now as we examine sentient species today, we can examine a few commonalities between the groups. The first being the ability to speak. No sentient species has evolved without some sort of communicatory language. The starborn can speak telepathically, and most other species vocally. The lumens and the Mikes also communicate based on light frequencies, though these are still translatable into structural sentences if one knows what they are doing. Even the Adaptids have a very base and rudimentary speech which requires the use of smell (Krill, 4020). Another common trait is hands or other limbs used for the manipulation of objects. While some aliens also developed the ability to stand upright on two legs: Drev, Tvek, Finnari, Gnark,lak, some retain that ability only partially: Rundi, Kree, while the vast majority require at least three or more limbs to stay upright using tails to balance or adding extra legs for stability: Tesraki, Vrul, Iotins Burg etc..Regardless of walking upright all of these creatures have the ability to manipulate objects to use tools.

The question now remains. Where do humans and other aliens stack up? The answer seems clear in that humans are not powerful because of their dominance in one specific area, but because humans are generalists where others are specialists. There is a human saying that goes along well with this research. Jack of all trades, the master of none, but better than the master of one. A general knowledge of everything seems to be the precursor for being the best survivalists. Let us examine intelligence first, as we know Rundi, Tesraki, burg and Drev are comparable to humans, which are all well behind Vrul and Gibb in average intelligence, though intelligence is one of the more difficult factors as intelligence is an important prerequisite to space travel (Kisk., Gana., Fuller., and Millward). Humans are not the fastest, that goes to the Rundi, though they are the second fastest, and can arguably outdistance a Rundi in a footrace. Human hearing isn’t as good as a Tesraki, but better than most others just as their eyesight isn’t nearly as good as a Drev, but still much more powerful than others. Drev also take the main spot as being one of the strongest with humans closely behind. Smell is a relatively rare ability among nonhuman species, though the Drev have it to some degree. The Adaptids are known for their superior smelling ability, though it is arguable if they count as sentient just yet. Starborn can survive in space, which is an ability that no other nonhuman species has, accept for humans who can survive for about 15 seconds in the vacuum of space with damage: the only known case of this being of course Admiral Vir, who is as of now, the only human to have attempted this maneuver at all.

The argument we make here is not based primarily on human abilities, which seem second to all, but based primarily about how these interacted with their technological advances. Humans are the youngest species EVER to reach space, and that includes the Drev. In fact most humans still possess instincts which are often lacking in older sentient species, replaced by thought and logic. A human is still said to be able to sense danger before it comes, and can read body language better than any other sentient species currently known, which has much to do with the juvenile nature of their species. Furthermore, human durability is one of the greatest factors.

The average human can stand about 5gs of force without passing out while trained humans can reach up to sustained 12gs. Most alien species on the other hand had to find ways to keep their craft below 4gs at all times in order to avoid passing out. Nonhumans spent much longer developing their technology before reaching space, while humans were busy strapping rockets to tin cans. A similar situation can be noted with the Drev, who can sustain 7 to 8gs if trained. Both of their species were allowed to leave their planet before fully developing out of their more primitive natures, as was common with other nonhuman or Drev species. In general, human and Drev durability have allowed them to operate machinery which would be too dangerous for other species, giving them a time advantage in the race to the stars.

At this point one might wonder if Drev are comparable to humans, after all Drev are stronger, more durable and just as intelligent as humans. This is true of course, but humans do have some strategic advantages, long distance running ability, pack bonding, and superior technology development, which might have been negated if it weren’t for the Drev religion which calls into question the nature of technology as dishonorable. Furthermore, though they can distinguish less colors than Drev, human sense of smell and hearing is stronger, giving them a distinct battlefield advantage in at least once sense as they are able to pinpoint the direction and height of sounds where Drev have trouble.

A discussion about the abilities of humans can go on all day, though the conclusion scientists have agreed upon focuses primarily on human adaptability and generalization skills as the primary function of their abilities, and seeming power over other species. It seems good then that human pack bonding instincts easly travels across species making them relatively easy to make alliances with compared to some other, more stubborn species.

#humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia #humans are space oddities

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myhauntedsalem · 2 years

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THE STORY BEHIND SALEM’S HAUNTED WITCH HOUSE

Salem, Massachusetts was a very different place back in 1692. It was a dominant shipping port on the East Coast and home to a large Puritan community. A stark contrast to the bustling tourist destination Salem has become today, yet one thing that remains consistent is the town’s fascination with witchcraft.

Salem is indeed best known for the hysteria that dominated it in 1692, resulting in the Witch Trials that were to cause the deaths of many. The fear that Salem succumbed to was initially created by two young girls aged 9 and 11, the daughter and niece of the Reverend Samuel Parris. They had accused the family’s slave (Tituba) of witchcraft, after acting peculiarly and claiming they were under the spell of a witch.

This was the event that triggered the onset of many being accused of witchcraft. Tituba was one of the survivors, pleading guilty to the charges. Those who were to confess their innocence were not as lucky. The trials ran for a relatively short period, claiming the lives of 19 who were hanged for confessing their innocence. Excluding one man who was ‘pressed’ to death via a medieval torture technique of stacking heavy rocks atop the chest in an attempt to coax a confession out of him. Then there were countless more who were condemned to rot the rest of their lives away in a jail cell.

Although this horrific moment in history is Salem’s claim to fame and the main driver of the town’s tourism, there is only one remaining structure surviving that is linked to the Witch Trials. That structure is known as the Witch House.

Salem’s Witch House was never actually home to anyone accused of witchcraft. Its link to the trials comes from its former owner, Jonathan Corwin. Corwin was a judge who presided over many of Salem’s Witch Trials, which were directly responsible for sending 19 people to the gallows to face their deaths.

The house, rumored to be built in 1642, was the Corwin family home for many years through to the mid-1800s. Although not related to the actual Witch Trials, the home did see dramatic levels of death come through its doors. Many of those deaths were from members of the Corwin family.

Corwin moved to the Witch House with his wife Elizabeth, who already had four children with another man from her previous marriage. One of those children had already died and her 12-year-old daughter passed away shortly after moving into the residence.

Elizabeth would go on to bear more children, this time to Corwin. Many of these also met tragic ends, with 8 of the 10 children dying young before adulthood. The Corwin remained in the house, both dying in the late 1710s around the same time their remaining adult children passed.

Because of the many deaths associated with it, the Witch House is today thought to be one of the most haunted places in Salem. It has attracted many paranormal investigators over the years, including the famed television show Ghost Adventures. The spirits of deceased children are thought to exist within the property and have made themselves known to the living by touching them and projecting their voices. Sudden temperature drops and cold drafts gushing within rooms have also been experienced within the Witch House.

Salem’s famed Witch House today functions as a museum and is open to the public seasonally. It pays to check ahead of time whether it will be open during the time of your visit.

The museum details the involvement of the home in the Witch Trials, the lives of the Corwin family, and what life in Salem during the 1600s would have been like. The house has been restored to what it would have looked like during the time of the Witch Trials.

Salem is lucky to still have this time capsule of history, which was nearly destroyed along with many of the other properties linked to the Witch Trials. Locals lobbied to have the home saved, raising enough funds to move the house 30 feet and out of the path of construction. Do not miss out on the opportunity to experience this piece of old Salem history, whether you are a paranormal buff or just visiting Salem for the fun of Halloween.

#THE STORY BEHIND SALEM’S HAUNTED WITCH HOUSE #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #salem massachusetts

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willowcrowned · 3 years

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Okay but has anyone considered Obi-wan/Cody/Satien (is that how its spelled?) Regardless, hes got two hands for his two mandalorians, the au where this happend is gotta be top notch ridiculous ye?

Okay thank you so much for giving me a reason to think about this, because this AU contains three things I adore: polyamory, ships where everyone is frighteningly competent, and Obi-Wan

In this AU, Ventress is somehow even less well-adjusted (bear with me). What this means is that, instead of taking a gap year and finding herself after her family is brutally murdered, she decides she needs to get revenge even more now. What does this mean? In the short term, she still becomes a bounty hunter, but in the long run? She’s looking for a Sith lord team up so she can punch Dooku (with a lit lighstaber) in his stupid, elitist, backstabbing face.

So when Maul invades Mandalore, what happens? Ventress comes right along, ready to give her ‘I know we hate each other, but consider teaming up to kill someone we both hate even MORE’ space TED talk. And though Maul may be terribly annoying, a closet theater kid, always in a tits out kind of mood, and denying his gay awakening, he’s not stupid. He knows Sidious is coming for him, sooner rather than later, and he knows he needs more people on his side than his (impressively beefy) brother. He and Savage agree to the team-up.

Cue Obi-Wan showing up, ready to save his sort-of girlfriend, and finding Pre Vizsla, who got REAL sus the second ANOTHER lunatic with a red lightsaber showed up, occupied by capturing Maul, Savage, and Ventress.

Obi-Wan saves Satie, who convinces him to call Cody for a quick evac, and they’re running away, flirting, and arguing over shooting things (as usual), when they spot Ventress, Maul, and Savage, about to be executed.

Oh, they both think, hell no. And then, because they have a stupid moral code that makes them do stupid moral things, they go save them.

A little background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has been fighting in a war for over two years. He is exhausted, close to a breakdown, and seriously questioning his place as a General. Next to him at all times, supporting him, helping him, and saving him, is Cody, who is clever, kinder than he has any right to be, and is, of course, devastatingly handsome when he does his special, unique-to-Cody half-smirk.

Obi-Wan, to put it mildly, is totally gone on him. Obi-Wan also, to put it less mildly, is his commanding officer in an army that Cody can’t leave on pain of death. To do anything— make any advance beyond the flirting that he engages in with most people— would put Cody in a very uncomfortable position, whether or not he returns Obi-Wan’s feelings. So Obi-Wan watches him from afar, hoping against hope that his affections are returned, and that one day, after the end of the war, there will be a future for both of them.

A little more background on Obi-Wan at this point: He has always respected Satine. Their correspondence fell apart just a few months after the end of his mission with Qui-Gon, but he’s been keeping up with her professional accomplishments for years. Over time, the love he bore for her faded, leaving him with good memories and an enduring appreciation for her courage, her cleverness, and her ability to deliver devastating blows to someone’s confidence with a few well-placed words.

Until he sees her again. And yes, alright, he might be angry that she’s choosing to stay out of the war— he knows what good she could do— but he understands her fears, understands the very real possibility that if Mandalore gets embroiled in yet another war, they may never recover. The thing is... well, she’s still very beautiful, especially when he’s yelling at him, and as slowly as his feelings had faded then, they come back in a rush now.

He has very much fallen in love with Cody, and he is very much still in love with Satine.

Cut back to the present— Obi-Wan and Satine rescue the three most annoying Sith in the galaxy and get the heck out of dodge. Cody, because he’s Cody, comes swooping in with a last-minute rescue.

At this point, two things are occurring.

The first: Obi-Wan is stuck in a room with four people he’s periodically flirted with over the past few years, two of whom he’s desperately in love with, one of whom he had a weird encounter with that he can never tell Anakin about when she and him got trapped in a middle school auditorium, and one of whom is definitely wearing no shirt and all that jewelry for a reason. It is Supremely awkward for him.

The second: Every single person in that room, each of which is (barring Savage) deeply attracted to Obi-Wan, is realizing that Obi-Wan is dressed in Mandalorian armor, and while Obi-Wan in three layers of tunics and a cloak is an absolute knockout, Obi-Wan in Mandalorian armor may very well kill them (and he won’t even have to touch his lightsaber to do it).

For one single moment, everything is absolutely still as they all stare at each other.

...And then Maul starts on the ‘I will rend your flesh from your bones, feel my wrath, Kenobarrgh’ spiel, and Satine stuns him. Oh, and Savage. Ventress agrees to watch the two of them if they don’t stun her, and Obi-Wan agrees.

Which then leaves him, Cody, and Satine in a room alone.

A word on Cody at this point: He has been bred from birth to be the perfect soldier— loyal, clever (but not too clever), and rigourously adherent to protocol. Yet, within three months of knowing Obi-Wan, he’s, well, calling him Obi-Wan in his head. Even just that is a gross breach of protocol, but he’s compromised in more ways than one. He talks to Obi-Wan, now, not just as a subordinate, or secondary advisor, but as a friend, as a councilor. Every time Obi-Wan touches him— never for longer than a brief second— his skin lights up under his armor. One time, Obi-Wan fell asleep on him for half an hour, and Cody’s was sure everyone would hear his heartbeat.

What he’s doing— how he feels— he knows it’s putting Obi-Wan in danger, knows that if the Kaminoans had wanted to the clones to be equals to the Jedi, they would have told them so. And look, he knows what the natborns would call the way he’s feeling, but he can’t feel that way. He’s a clone— he’s expendable by definition. Even if, on some off-chance, he makes it out of this war alive, there’s nothing for him. Obi-Wan couldn’t care for him like that, couldn’t care for a man with the same face as millions of others, born and bred only for war. So it doesn’t matter how he feels.

A word on Satine at this point: Obi-Wan, when he left, was a gawkish, bumbling thing of red hair and freckles and the sweetest smile. Obi-Wan, when he came back, was graceful, eloquent, and very, very handsome. He is also infuriating. (This does not change how attracted she is to him in the least.)

She’s not a romantic, really, but she is a realist, and she knows she’s loved him in some form or another for over twenty years. She knows she can’t ask him to return it— knows that asking him to leave the order for her wouldn’t just be for her, it would be for Mandalore, and while the politician in her cries for her to claim him, the person in her who loves Obi-Wan could not abide tearing him away from his culture for her own purposes. She still loves him, deeply and irrevocably, and she knows he still loves her. (Maybe, she thinks, after the war... But she can’t afford to be sentimental).

What do Cody and Satine have in common? They’re both extremely competent, both instinctively ruthless, and they both love Obi-Wan. Oh, and they’re also both immediately jealous of their counterpart.

They know they shouldn’t be. They know it’s not fair, not when Obi-Wan isn’t theirs anyways, but it doesn’t change the surge of envy and dislike that happens when they see Obi-Wan use the soft voice he only uses for the people he likes best on the person across from them.

Cody knows he can never compare to the Duchess, who is beautiful and well-spoken and has held Obi-Wan’s heart since they were fifteen. Satine knows she can never compare to Cody, who has been at Obi-Wan’s side every second since the war’s beginning, who is so much closer in ideals to Obi-Wan than she is, however it might appear on the surface.

Fortunately, they don’t have to deal with it for long, because Ventress comes in with Maul and Savage and proposes a team up, at which point Maul reveals the identity of the Sith Master.

Obi-Wan swears a string of words that Cody and Satine are both very impressed by, and agrees to the team up. Cody and Satine, who are both going to Coruscant anyways, agree to it too.

What ensues is a good deal of scheming, during which Cody and Satine avoid each other like the plague, Obi-Wan is repeatedly told to get some sleep, and Ventress cuffs Maul to a door on multiple nonconsecutive occasions. When they get to Coruscant, Satine has already told Padmé, who has in turn told her group of anti-war (and anti-Palpatine) senators, Cody has given Rex a heads up, and Ventress, Maul, and Savage have been metaphorically sharpening their lightsabers for ages.

(It occurs to Obi-Wan, at one point, after he’s woken up from his enforced 25-hour nap, that Palpatine must have created the clone army for a reason— must have a failsafe in place— and he asks Ahsoka to pull all the data the Kaminoans have on the clones. They find out about the chips, and Ahsoka immediately immediately holds the Kaminoans at laser sword point until they reprogram every order into a command that dissolves the chip.)

The thing about organizing a coup together is that it makes it very hard to avoid each other. Cody and Satine are forced to work together, and, what do you know, it turns out that even with seething jealousy at work, they end up respecting each other. (Note: Obi-Wan comes into a room at one point to see them both bent over a commlink, heads together and hands nearly touching. He short circuits.)

In any case, coup, Palps dies, Republic fixed, whatever.

What’s important is that Obi-Wan gets really, really injured— so much so that he might die. Cody and Satine have dealt with him being dead before (Deception arc anyone?), but this? Watching him slowly fade, knowing there’s nothing they can do about it? That’s worse.

One night, when Anakin has fallen asleep, they have a long conversation in low voices about Obi-Wan, darting from fond to furious to devastated over and over again. If he wakes up— if, not when— they agree to say something to Obi-Wan, to let him know that they love him. It’s a meager consolation after all they’ve been through, but this is the end, in one way or another, and they deserve to be honest with him.

(Cody thinks, privately, that he will be— well, not tossed aside, because Obi-Wan isn’t the sort of person who does that, but there won’t be a place for him by Obi-Wan’s side anymore. Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a negotiator, a peacekeeper, and Cody is a soldier for a now-ended war. He is already steeling himself to accept Obi-Wan’s polite rejection with equanimity, to not cause more pain to the man. (It will be easy, he knows, to wish him every peace, every happiness. Cody has only ever wanted to see Obi-Wan happy. This does not mean it will not be painful.) Obi-Wan said once that he would have left the Order for Satine if she’d asked— she will ask, now, and Cody knows Obi-Wan will leave, can see the love written in his face, in his spine, in his hands, whenever he is around her. Satine will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Cody will be left to look for a place in this new galaxy.)

(Satine thinks, privately, that Obi-Wan’s feelings for her must be long faded, replaced by his obvious ones for Cody. Obi-Wan is a warrior, a Knight, and Satine is a diplomat who foreswore violence long ago. She is already steeling herself to accept his rejection with grace. (It will be easy, she knows, to wish him well. She has only ever wanted good things for him. This does not mean it will not be painful.) He said once that he would have left the Order for her if she’d asked, and whatever he’d felt then for her pales to what he feels now for Cody. Cody will ask, and Obi-Wan will leave, and Satine will rule as she always has.)

And then Obi-Wan wakes up.

Cody and Satine let him have his long talk with Anakin first, partially because they know how important it is to him, partially because Anakin wouldn’t let them if they wanted to, and partially because they are dreading their own coming conversation. When Anakin has finished, and Obi-Wan is asleep again, they go in, hand-in-hand, and wait for him to wake up.

When he does wake up, he sees them holding hands and immediately comes to several wrong conclusions. Wrong Conclusion A: Cody and Satine are in love. Wrong Conclusion B: Cody and Satine are going to try to break the news that they’re in love to him gently. Wrong Conclusion C: This conversation is about to break his heart.

Then they speak.

At the end of it, Obi-Wan has some Thoughts. Thought One: alkdfjhskhsgjljlbhkgkjbjvnab,gkjvn;qlerghjsv?????!!!!fwbfwlkrehwogwhuwrijvhfdbhkf!!!! Thought Two: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! Thought Three: Oh, we’re all idiots. Fantastic.

He then passes out, because being on the edge of death for days and then having a shock to your system this big tends to do that to you.

When he wakes up, he is mildly more coherent. Then he sees that Satine and Cody are asleep on each other, and the coherence is lost, but he does manage to wake them up and get across three things:

Thing One: He is desperately in love with them both.

Thing Two: He’s leaving the Order for a multitude of reasons, but they are a Significant Bonus.

Thing Three: He would very much like if they both held his hand while he falls back asleep.

Cody takes Obi-Wan’s right hand, Satine takes Obi-Wan’s left hand, and the three of them stay like that, fingers intertwined, for a long, long, while.

#this is. Long #obi wan DOES have two hands #i have not checked this for grammar mistakes #asks #missstar489 #obi wan has two hands au #codywan #obitine #codyobitine #star wars #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #commander cody #willow's aus #god this is 2.4k #no wonder it took me so long #me: I'll just reply to this ask real quick :)#me an hour later: oh. oh no

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buryyourfavouritestrope · 3 years

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Until it becomes a Memory - Daisuke Kambe

Author Note: This is a pile of Word Vomit, I watched Balance Unlimited and man I adored it. Especially this Salty Winter Adult. None of the below makes coherent sense but hey, life's too short to leave things unread by others.

Everyone who had ever visited the Kambe residence to speak to the heir knew about the painting. Often enough they found themselves stood beside the young man whose eyes focused only on the putrid baby blues that encircles a deep red misshapen figure. Many, in hushed whispers, had commented on how out of place the canvas seemed amongst the elegant wooden décor of the home.

It hung just outside his bedroom in a hallway trodden by very few. He, himself, had placed a chair opposite it for when he found himself unable to sleep. He’d sit there staring at the figure until he succumbed to sleep. Suzue would find him the next morning, curled against the chair, his head leaning on the crook of his arm. She’d suggested once that he move the canvas to his bedroom, only to be thrown a grim look and a sarcastic comment. It kept the nightmares at bay.

Kambe couldn’t blame her; it’s what any normal person would do. He couldn’t. He despised the painting. Everyone did, including his grandmother. The woman refused to enter the hallway, not until the painting disappeared. She’d even so much as asked their faithful servant to dispose of it whilst Kambe was busy – his attempt had failed thanks to Suzue. Perhaps one of the only people within Daisuke’s household that understood the importance hidden within the canvas.

His grandmother held no harmful intent; she just wanted to purge that period from Daisuke’s life. The man had suffered so much at a young age. There had been times where she would plead at the dinner table with the young detective. Her words reaching deaf ears as he chewed on his noodles. When her words hit too close to home, he quips a witty retort paired with a sarcastic growl. In those moments she could see his mother.

The painting held no real value. It was common knowledge. Suzue and his grandmother would have said something about it had it not been for the glint in Kambe’s usually dull eyes. A spark of fight and something none of them have ever seen before as he runs his gaze over every streak of paint. That very spark prevents them to speaking and instead they leave the man be.

A sigh relieves itself from Daisuke as he stands from his seat; he took a few strides forward his eyes never once leaving the soft brush strokes that had dried against the material. Kambe rubbed the sleep from his vision as he reminisced. He could still feel the fingers that wrapped around his upper arm and pulled him through the corridors of his home. The sound of overexcited laughter echoed in the aged wood wrapped around his heart squeezing at vary degrees of strength.

‘These cases just get more complicated, I thought it would be easier than this but every time I think I’m making progress something stops me’ Daisuke’s voice contrasted with the oozing silence surrounding him. ‘You’d know exactly what to do if you were here. I can picture it now-‘

‘Kambe’ Haru barked; the sudden appearance of his partner startled Daisuke. This had been expected, at some point Haru would turn up back here. An unjust anger in tow as he marched down the corridor. The embassy case had been closed, but Haru had come under fire for the death of a suspect, Daisuke had done nothing to help the older man. It hadn’t just been due to the fact he was off duty; he’d chosen to remain quiet.

Kambe’s eye twitched, his focus returning to the painting. If he remained quiet, let Haru vent, perhaps the detective inspector would leave. He’d be able to return to the serenity that had been his thoughts. If his friend had been here, they’d have persuaded Haru to calm down, they’d have laughed and shared some food at the expense of Kambe. They always handled people better than he did.

‘Hey, are you listening?’ Haru practically screamed as he stepped closer to Kambe; Daisuke remained firm. There was nothing he needed to speak to Kato about. He was handling this – whatever the bigger picture is. He’d handle it alone; it was safer that way. The fewer people around, the easier it would be. ‘Damn Rich kid, pay attention to people when they speak to you’

He didn’t need to see what was happening, he felt it. Haru’s balling around the material of his shirt in an aggressive attempt to grab Daisuke’s attention. Briefly – very briefly – Daisuke’s eyes flicked to look at Haru. In that second the world froze, Daisuke’s emotionless eyes, often filled with amusement, turned to Haru. As if Haru’s arms moved on their own he dropped Daisuke, his hands falling at his side.

‘I have nothing I wish to discuss, you should leave’ Daisuke commanded. The very sound of his voice knocked the older man from his shock, a guttural growl resonating in the air as he flung his arm back.

Everything slowed in that minute; Kato’s limbs swam leisurely through the air as Daisuke’s gaze flicked back to his partner. It hadn’t fully registered in Kambe’s mind as he watched helplessly. They both knew it hadn’t been Kato’s intention; he hadn’t registered how close he was to the wall.

It was an accident. It was an accident. A voice in Daisuke’s subconscious spoke the same four words like a mantra as he seethed. In an apoplectic haze he grabbed his senior. Kato’s body unbalanced fell against the air, unable to steady himself to fight back he let himself be thrown into the opposite wall. His head colliding with the wooden windowsill.

‘You weren’t invited here Detective Inspector Kato. You’re trespassing, I suggest you leave’ Daisuke growled; both heard the sharp inhale of Suzue as she rushed through the door at the end of the corridor. Her gaze observing the two men, her family who stood towering over Haru with fists balled at his side – his attention solely on the man and Haru who lifted himself against the wall, it was clear as he staggered slightly that the impact had made him dizzy.

‘Daisuke’ She uttered, Kambe clenched his jaw inhaling deeply as he turned around. The canvas hung at an angle; the material had been punctured. For the smallest second, he chastised his friend’s choice in canvas material.

‘It’s just a painting. Buy a new one. A rich kid like you always flaunting your wealth. Surely you can buy another one.’ Haru whistled. Kambe didn’t need to look to picture the Suzue’s reaction. A pleading expression plastered across her face as she moved closer to help Haru.

A rich kid like you. Daisuke finds himself repeating the short phrase. It had been said to Kambe before – plenty of times before and yet this time it struck him worse. For once he couldn’t throw money at the canvas. The damage had been done; money couldn’t solve his problem the way it could on a case. A soft chuckle rang through the air. Daisuke placed his head in his hands as he fell to his knees.

‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand,’ He admits, ‘I didn’t buy that canvas, it was a gift. One given to me by someone very dear to me. I guess you say it had no monetary value. It held some precious memories’ He continued.

‘You asked me how much I care about you, well…tah dah’ her voice bounced off the walls and rang through his ears. He relished in the happy tones as she released his arm. A quizzical look filled the man’s expression as he took in her appearance. Paint plastered across her skin, hair dishevelled and caked in the same colours that covered most of her clothing.

Once he’d had his fill, he followed her gaze, eyes widening as he took in the newest decoration. In place of his landscape portrait hung a horrendous mixture of colours and in the centre stood a deep burgundy figure and for a second, he hoped she hadn’t drawn a reflection of himself

‘Well?’ She questioned.

‘It’s awful, breathtakingly awful. I’d go as far as to say gut-wrenching,’ Daisuke commented. He listened to her as she roared with laughter, her hands holding her sides as she doubled over.

‘That’s exactly it. I care about you so much that its gut wrenching. Every moment I spend with you takes my breathe away in the most horrendously beautiful way.’ She announced, as she calmed her laughter she reached for his arm, her head falling against his shoulder as they both observed the horrendous decoration. ‘Plus, every home needs at least one ugly piece of furniture, something that just absorbs the good memories and no matter how long you look at it, no matter how much you hate it, it’ll remind you of the good things, it’ll remind you how much I love you, Daisuke Kambe’

Daisuke’s fingers wrapped around hers as he remained silent. Just the two of them watching the painting as though it were some priceless portraits in a museum.

‘You never know how important something is until it becomes a memory’ Kambe uttered.

‘Kambe,’ Haru’s voice shook Daisuke from his memories. His hands falling to his lap as he listened.

#daisuke kanbe x reader #daisuke kambe #Balance Unlimited imagine #balance unlimited x reader #How many different ways to spell Kambe/Kanbe are there.#It's just two

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Tedious Joys - Chapter 8 - END

- Ao3 link -

“You’re not going to like what we’ve decided,” Lao Nie said.

Lan Qiren could have guessed that from the way that the other man had marched into the room and promptly used Lan Qiren’s thigh as a pillow, primarily, Lan Qiren suspected, because he didn’t want to have to look Lan Qiren in the face.

It was a common tactic of his these days. The Nie clan had always been inclined towards tactile behavior and a certain lack of personal boundaries – personal information was too much to share, but apparently bodies were free game – and Lao Nie had very quickly transitioned from embarrassment to taking advantage of his newfound dependency on regular physical contact with Lan Qiren. Much to Lan Qiren’s relief, they had managed, with some experimenting and considerable effort on all parts involved, for Lao Nie to form a bond directly with the jade pendant. Now, as long as he carried the pendant, he was able to be by himself for a shichen or so without experiencing any degradation in his mental state – and that, in turn, enabled them both to separate and allowed them both some measure of privacy.

Unfortunately, after that shichen was over, Lao Nie would begin to become irritable and irrational again, his eyes slowly becoming bloodshot as the rage and resentful energy contained now wholly within him, rather than in the jade – in Jiwei, rather – began to need to be excised. Exercise and cultivation with a heavy training saber helped slow the effects, as did Lan Qiren’s musical efforts to calm and clear his mind, but Lao Nie’s cultivation was simply too high for it to last for very long. It was as if half his meridians had vanished overnight and yet he continued to cultivate as he did before; it was as if his dominant arm had been abruptly cut off, and yet he instinctively continued to try to do everything he previously could. He needed his saber to complete even a standard circulation of his qi, and short of suppressing his spiritual energy entirely (another experiment that met with some limited success, getting them another two shichen of time apart if they really needed it, but which was not a long-term solution given the unfortunate side effects), he had to have access to it.

Currently, that access was through Lan Qiren.

“If you’re warning me in advance, I’m quite certain that I won’t like it,” he said mildly, continuing to play uninterrupted. He wasn’t cultivating anything at the moment – the piece he was working on was actually a refinement of the music he’d inadvertently created in his grief at Cangse Sanren’s death, the one that had made his normally very stable nephews burst into tears, and he didn’t want to add spiritual energy to it until he’d worked out exactly how he wanted it to go. He reached an appropriate stopping place, noted down a few revisions to the score, and put his guqin aside. “You should tell me about it regardless.”

Lao Nie exhaled. “Well, good news first – the smiths have finally finished conferring and they’ve concluded that they believe it’s possible to try reforging Jiwei, so they’re willing to give it a try.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said. He hadn’t really understood the spiritual weaponsmiths’ reluctance on the subject, but he respected their expertise as craftsmen, just as they respected his as a musician. “Once the saber has been remade, I can reestablish the resonance between them and, in theory, Jiwei should be able to use that pathway to return - and with greater ease, as she would be returning to her more familiar self.”

“Not that easy, unfortunately,” Lao Nie said regretfully. “Jiwei was shattered. To remake the blade, they will need to – for want of a better explanation – melt her down and start entirely afresh. It will be like having a wholly different saber, albeit with the same metal that she’s used to.”

Lan Qiren frowned.

“There, you see the issue. If it’s a new saber, the familiarity will be absent. We will need to work on reestablishing the resonance the way we did with the pendant, and that means –”

“Slowly.” Lan Qiren’s frown deepened. It had taken him years to establish that initial resonance, and knowing how it was done could only reduce the process by so much. “That is indeed a problem. I cannot stay here as long as that would take. In all truth, I am surprised that I have not already been summoned back by my sect…”

“Oh, you have,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “A-Jue burned the letters and told the messengers to fuck off.”

Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped. “He did what?!”

“Did we not say? You’ve officially been kidnapped! Well, no, really it’s more of a hostage exchange situation, since they have A-Sang with them…oh, don’t look so horrified, Qiren,” Lao Nie said, starting to laugh. “Your sect elders have indicated that no offense was taken, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?!” Lan Qiren spluttered a little. “You’re not serious! What circumstances could justify one sect kidnapping another sect’s sect leader, acting or otherwise?!”

Lao Nie stopped laughing, the sound cutting off as if he’d been choked. “Yes, well,” he said, closing his eyes. “That’s the part you’re really not going to like.”

Lan Qiren determinedly prodded at Lao Nie’s shoulder until the other man, grumbling, sat up and took a proper seat so that they could have this discussion face-to-face. Their knees remained touching, which was good enough, and about all that the scoundrel deserved at the moment.

“Explain,” Lan Qiren ordered, and Lao Nie dipped his head into a nod.

“There are several relevant points,” he said crisply, dropping into the familiar pattern of a report. “First, Hanhan has clearly decided that he wants me dead –”

“Must you?” Lan Qiren interjected, even though he had not meant to interrupt.

“Oh, I must.” Lao Nie’s eyes were flinty. “He decided that if he couldn’t have me – and no one said he couldn’t, except his own paranoia – that if he couldn’t, no one could, and I’m not about to forgive him for that, don’t worry. But he’s still my Hanhan, my A-Han, underneath all his madness, and for my own sake, I’m not going to let anyone, whether him or me, forget it. No matter how necessary, some things have to hurt, and to their fullest extent...However, that’s not what’s relevant now. May I continue?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“He wants me dead,” Lao Nie said, resuming his narrative. “Now that he tried once, he may try again, and I currently lack the capability to defend myself – the doctors, and you, have all agreed that I should avoid any excessive use of qi, and fighting a battle with a saber that isn’t Jiwei is a recipe for disaster in the best of times. I can’t exactly swing the pendant around, can I? Moreover, it may take years for us to establish the resonance, re-transfer Jiwei, and for me to re-familiarize myself with the new saber.”

Lan Qiren did not like the way this was going.

“There’s also the matter that I can’t be without physical contact with you for extended periods of time, and you of course have your responsibility to your sect,” Lao Nie continued. “Kidnapping you is, at best, a temporary fix. We will need something more permanent, and your sect elders have already indicated that they won’t let you marry out until your nephews are grown – and obviously we can’t wait that long, even assuming you’d want to marry me.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth.

“Don’t say that you’d be willing to make the sacrifice to marry me, because even if you would, I wouldn’t. Putting aside the fact that you wouldn’t be happy leaving the Cloud Recesses and as much as I adore you, having been married before, I’m quite certain that I only want to marry my lovers, thank you.”

Lan Qiren had, in fact, been about to make an offer just like that, but he kept his mouth shut. They could discuss it at length at a later point.

“In short, the best solution to all of these problems, therefore, appears to be to allow events to play out as Hanhan would have wanted: for me to die.”

“You cannot be serious!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, abruptly furious. “After all the effort we put into saving your life, you would just throw it away?”

Lao Nie held up his hands. “Forgive me, I spoke unwisely – ‘do not take your words lightly’, right?”

Lan Qiren was usually very easily distracted by the mention of the Lan sect rules, but he resisted the temptation and glared.

“I didn’t mean I’d actually die,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Only that that would be the story we put out to the world. The process has already begun – that’s why your sect elders aren’t kicking up a fit about A-Jue being so rude to them about refusing to return you.”

“They think he’s in mourning,” Lan Qiren realized. “Whether actual, or merely preemptive.”

He could see how it might appear that way: Nie Mingjue showing up late in the evening, depositing a shaken and terrified Nie Huaisang, using up all the medical supplies in Lan Qiren’s personal possession, and then asking Lan Qiren to return home with him…

Due to Lan Qiren’s friendship with Lao Nie, Nie Mingjue had grown up especially close to the Lan sect; Lan Qiren had been his teacher, and in the end he was only fifteen, even if most people didn’t know that. Even in a world where Lao Nie could not have been saved, he might have refused to let Lan Qiren go home so quickly, seeking comfort from the sole familial authority, however informally constituted, that he had remaining.

“But Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “If you are supposedly dead, then Mingjue will need to become sect leader.”

Lao Nie grimaced, but nodded.

He’d been right about one thing, at least: Lan Qiren did not like what the Nie sect had decided.

He didn’t like it one bit.

“You know what that will do to him,” he said. He himself knew it better than anyone.

“I do,” Lao Nie confirmed, looking pained. “But it’s the best out of a short list of very bad options. If I stay on as sect leader in my current state, someone will kill me – probably Hanhan, but maybe someone else, one of the many small sects that have ambitions of taking the Nie sect’s place – and if that happens, A-Jue will have to become sect leader in truth, without my support. At least this way, I can act as an advisor, aid him with paperwork…that sort of thing.”

As much as Lan Qiren would have liked to argue, he didn’t have a good rebuttal to that.

Lao Nie’s position within the Nie sect was as secure as anything, and the Nie sect’s position as a Great Sect was nearly as unshakable, but there were always smaller sects looking to see whether that could change. If he were known to be so critically weakened...Wen Ruohan might not even need to kill him personally. He’d just need to wait.

And the rest was true, too. There were many things Lao Nie could do from a distance - his month at the Lan sect had shown that much - and having someone reliable to turn to for advice and hard choices was the ideal sort of transition for a new sect leader.

Still, the sect conferences alone would be horrifying, and those Lao Nie would not be able to aid Nie Mingjue with, even if he could help with all the rest.

He hated it.

But he couldn’t argue against it.

“Moreover, without the bulk of the responsibilities of sect leader on my shoulders, I’ll have more opportunity to focus on healing.”

That was true as well. Lao Nie had been hurt very deeply by Jiwei’s destruction. His cultivation had fallen, his usual cultivation pathway denied to him, his trust in his own mental well-being betrayed…in an ideal world, Lan Qiren would recommend seclusion for a few months, maybe even a year, for him to focus on reestablishing his connection with himself, re-centering his foundation so that he could climb up once more. But for a sect leader, that was impossible.

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, although he made sure by his tone to make clear how much he disapproved. “I understand the basis for your decision.”

“I thought you might.”

“There’s only one flaw I see with your plan.”

“Oh?”

Lan Qiren folded his hands together in front of him. “You still need me, don’t you? Even with the excuse of mourning, Nie Mingjue can only request my presence for so long before the demands of my sect become paramount over their respect for his filial piety and grief.”

“Oh, we’ll let you go back eventually,” Lao Nie said with a shrug. “And I’d go with you.”

Lan Qiren had been expecting that. “And how exactly do you intend to keep the story of your death intact if you’re living with me at the Cloud Recesses? Even if we increase your tolerance such that you can stay home at all times, my home is often visited by my students, including those from other sects – and while there may be a rule against talking behind people’s backs, it is one of the most commonly broken.”

Lao Nie winced in a way that suggested both that he had thought of an answer to that question and also that Lan Qiren was going to hate it.

“Whatever you say, I cannot dislike it more than A-Jue becoming sect leader at fifteen,” Lan Qiren pointed out.

“I don’t know about that,” Lao Nie said. “Given that to this day you despise the smell of gentians.”

Lan Qiren’s brain came to an abrupt halt.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Qiren…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a good solution,” Lao Nie argued. “No one in your sect goes to that house – most of them don’t even know it exists! It’s within a short walking distance of your home, protected by arrays to enhance silence and protect privacy…”

“I am not locking you in He Kexin’s place!” Lan Qiren bellowed.

“You wouldn’t be locking me anywhere,” Lao Nie said, for once the reasonable and calm one in the face of Lan Qiren’s fury. “I would be going willingly, and I would be free to leave at any time. You’re not your brother, Qiren, and I’m not He Kexin – not least of which because I’m neither capable of nor interested in bearing two sons for you as a means of passing the time.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “A bit of a pity, that. I’m sure they’d be cute.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes at him, although the reassurance and humor had helped douse the worst of his terror at the mere idea. Irritatingly, it was a good solution: he had made the trek to He Kexin’s home hundreds of times and no one had ever raised any questions. In the unlikely event that they did so now, he could claim he was merely tending to the garden to maintain it for his nephews; more likely, however, they would simply not notice – the path between the two locations was short and purposefully discrete.

“You’ll need someone to clean the place,” he pointed out. “Even He Kexin had servants, and if you don’t want anyone from the Lan sect finding out about it…”

“I have some servants that are loyal to me personally, and which are not Nie sect disciples,” Lao Nie said. “They can seek employment at the Cloud Recesses on the basis that they didn’t want to remain here after I’d gone – literally true, if you think about it in a certain light. Your sect would snatch them up in a heartbeat.”

They would, too, even without Lan Qiren interfering: properly trained servants who knew how to serve cultivators were a precious commodity that often had to be raised up from a young age or recruited with great caution from the ranks of rogue cultivators, and ones with the skills and experience that came from serving at another Great Sect were even more valued than most. And once they were part of the Cloud Recesses, there would be no difficulty in Lan Qiren adding the task of caring for He Kexin’s house to their list of duties.

“It’s a good plan,” he finally conceded, and Lao Nie sniggered.

“You look as though you’ve bitten into a lemon, Qiren. Did it hurt to say?”

“It hurt to think,” he retorted, and turned back to his guqin. “Will you visit my brother while you’re there? He might enjoy hearing your voice and knowing that you are close.”

Lao Nie had always refused in the past, and he shook his head now. “Not all of us are as forgiving as you, Qiren. Qingheng-jun made his choices.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“He makes them again every day,” Lao Nie disagreed. “He may have declared that he would stay in seclusion for the rest of his life to make amends, but that was his decision. He could break his oath and come out, do the right thing, but he doesn’t want to.”

It was an old argument, and an unproductive one. Lan Qiren shook his head, signaling that he would no longer engage.

He had other things to be concerned with, and would for some time. There was helping with Lao Nie’s recovery, creating the new resonance, playing calming music for him, keeping his secret; he would also need to help support Nie Mingjue as much as possible during his transition to sect leader, whether through correspondence and advice or through active intervention during the discussion conferences. He would need to manage his nephews, who he had taught so carefully not to lie, and yet they would need to learn to keep this secret, too.

Taking care of Lao Nie would also be an additional set of duties, on top of being sect leader and being a teacher and being himself, but Lan Qiren didn’t mind it.

It wouldn’t be so bad, actually, now that he thought of it without prejudice. To have someone close by to take tea with in the afternoons when his nephews were too busy and it wasn’t the right time of year for students, someone with whom he could speak on any range of subjects, including his occasional frustrations with his sect, stories about his students, the political troubles of the day – a friend close by, rather than at a distance. Someone who would probably encourage him to take more exercise than he usually did, to try things outside of his comfort zone, someone who would listen to his ideas on music or the rules without judgment, someone who would share his burdens and support him…it would be a little like having a wife, but without all the inconvenient aspects that he so thoroughly disliked.

“It’s not too bad, as such things go,” Lao Nie said, his thoughts clearly moving along a similar line as Lan Qiren’s. “Whatever the world thinks, I’ll be the first Nie sect leader to live to enjoy a retirement, however premature.”

This was true.

“I’ll miss my boys, of course,” Lao Nie added. “But I’ll write, and you can invite A-Sang to your lectures when he’s old enough. A-Jue can come visit you, sect leader to sect leader…I wouldn’t be the first father to only see his children a few times a year.”

“Nie Huaisang will probably fail my classes,” Lan Qiren said, having been acquainted with the individual in question for some time now. A clever child, even very clever, but he was also lazy, hated reciting facts, and was as stubborn as a rock – as stubborn as his father. “You’ll probably have the joy of him for several summers in a row.”

Lao Nie smiled.

“Well, I can’t say this was what I expected when I wrote to you for help all those years ago,” he joked, leaning down and playing with the jade token that now hung from his belt rather than Lan Qiren’s. Wen Ruohan would probably have a fit if he ever saw it – indeed, Lan Qiren was already looking forward to that day in the future, however distant, where Lao Nie would regain his saber and his former strength and re-emerge to make his feelings on the subject of Wen Ruohan’s actions clear. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“As am I, my friend,” Lan Qiren said. “As am I.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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avengerscompound · 3 years

Text

Until the End of the World - 18

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 2763

Rating: E

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, induction without consent, forced medical proceedures, mentions of forced pregnancy, action, violence, death

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together. Things are calm and you feel like a family unit. When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem. When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created

Chapter 18

You had sent Geo back to his bed with his instructions. You didn’t think you could get out of here with him without getting caught. Yes, he could open all the doors for you, but there were still guards, and you had no idea where you were. The risk was just too high. Not to mention, that if Viper had been telling the truth, there were other people here who were being experimented on again. If you could get Steve, Bucky, and the rest of the Avengers here, then that was the best option for everyone. You hoped Geo could do as you asked; if you could send a message to the tower - however primitive it was - you trusted that FRIDAY could work out that it was Geo sending it.

You slept badly. The bench was hard and uncomfortable, and they had provided no blankets or pillows. That teamed with the stress of you and Geo being captured, and how close you were to your due date, you were uncomfortable and highly wound. Even with the lack of sleep, a group of HYDRA guards still managed to startle you awake the following day.

They had no concern about treating you gently in your heavily pregnant state. They didn’t even shake you awake, so much as march into the room, grab your arm, and drag you out of bed and down the hall. You had trouble walking and you stumbled down the bright white hall as they dragged you along with them.

You were brought to a room with a hospital bed and a lot of medical equipment, as well as a sterile-looking sofa chair and a clear plastic bassinet and incubator. It looked like a delivery room in a hospital that cared nothing for the comfort of the mother. Viper was waiting there with a group of medical staff dressed in green scrubs.

“What’s going on? Where’s Geo?” You asked.

“Geo is safe,” Viper assured you. “And we’ve decided we’re going to induce labor. Staying in this location is risky, so within the week we’re going to move you. We figured if we move you and your children separately, you’ll be less likely to try and draw attention to yourself when we inevitably see other people.”

“I’m not due yet,” you argued.

“It’s not ideal, I know,” Viper said as the guards muscled you onto the bed and strapped you down. “But it’s close enough. We did consider just cutting that little thing out of you, but they said this way would be safest. Don’t make me change my mind.”

One of the medical staff inserted a cannula into your arm and another began doing an internal examination as two of the guards held your legs apart. You tried to fight them, but there were just too many of them.

“Don’t worry though, dear,” Viper said. “We decided to help keep you calm you’re going to have an old friend here to help you with your labor. A birthing partner. That’s what they call them isn’t it?”

You looked at her wild-eyed, completely confused, and panicked. You had no idea why she was doing this. If they really wanted the baby out, a c-section would be quicker. Though you guessed, with the surgical recovery time it would be harder to move you unnoticed. The whole thing just felt like mind games though. Like she was trying to show you exactly what kind of control she had over you, both your mind and your body.

There was a pop and a gush of water between your legs as the doctor broke your waters and you began to cry. “Why are you doing this to me?”

She patted your cheek. “Consider it your payment for evading us for so long, and destroying my whole operation,” she said. “Or at least a down payment. I don’t plan to make anything easy for you.”

She tapped your cheek again and strode to the door. Just as she reached it, she turned and looked at one of the doctors. “If she behaves, you can let her up, but if she does anything to mess with this labor, strap her down again.”

“Yes, Madame HYDRA,” he said, saluting.

She left the room and the doctors went back to fussing around you. They put monitors on you that seemed to track both yours and the baby’s heart rate. When they seemed to be done most left without a word. One doctor remained. He had a sharp face and dead eyes. “If I let you up, will you behave?” He asked. “I warn you, if you take any of this off, you’re risking the life of that baby.”

You nodded. “I’ll behave,” you agreed.

Your restraints were unfastened. There are guards at the door, not that you can get out,” he said. “And you are being monitored on cameras all over the room. Behave and we’ll be in to check on you regularly.”

As he left a woman was led in. She looked like a wild animal that had been caught in a trap. Her hair was lank and didn’t look like it had been brushed in weeks and her hollow eyes looked around wildly. She was wearing a simple floral nightgown and in her arms was an infant that couldn’t have been more than a few days old. It took you a moment to realize you knew her. She had been in the medical trials back when you were in college. “Azi?” You said.

She turned to look at you startled, furrowing her brow as she assessed you. “Oh my god,” she said and rushed to your side. “Oh my god! What are you doing here? I didn’t know they had you too.”

“How long have you been here, Azi?” You asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. A long time. I don’t know. They came right after the trial ended. I wasn’t pregnant then. Now I have a baby. They move us.”

“Oh my god,” you said, wrapping your arm around her. “Come, sit down.”

You led her to the sofa chair and she sat, cradling the baby. It fussed a little but fell back to sleep as its mother held it close. “Azi, what did they do to you?”

“They took me… and some of the others in the test,” she said. “They’re all dead now…” her eyes snapped up to you.

“They’ve been chasing me. This is all my fault,” you said. A dull pain throbbed out from your back and sides, and you winced and gripped the IV stand. Azi looked up at you alarmed.

“Are you in labor?” She asked.

You nodded. “They just induced me.”

“Did they… did they …?” She asked.

You shook your head. “No. No… I think they were waiting. I’ve been living with someone. Some men. I think they were waiting to see if we’d just end up having kids. What… how… did they force someone on you?”

She shook her head. “It was a medical procedure. I know whose it was… I think… do you remember Gal?”

You nodded. Gal was short and funny and you remembered during the tests he always got telekinesis. He thought it was funny to tap people on the shoulder while he was standing on the other side of the room. “You think he’s dead?”

She nodded and then shook her head. “I think… I don’t know. They were injecting us with things, to make our powers come back, but it wasn’t working. Katrina died. And Shae. And … and…”

“It’s okay,” you soothed, rubbing her back. “It’s okay.”

She looked up at you with wide brown eyes. “If I die, will you take care of my baby? You were always stronger than the rest of us. You’ll look after him. Get him out of here.”

“Shh…” You whispered, crouching down. “We’re gonna both get out of here. Okay? And your baby. What’s his name?”

“I called him Gal. I think… I think that’s only fair,” she said. “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”

“I promise. But you’re going to do that yourself, okay?” You assured her, hoping that Steve and Bucky would come for you soon.

Whether it was the drugs they were using or the fact it was your second child, you couldn’t be sure, but your labor seemed to progress very quickly. Once Azi got used to being in the room with you, she became a little more of a comfort to you. She put baby Gal into the bassinet and would rub your back and soothe you through the contractions. Not that there was much she could do. Having someone on your side was better than being alone with HYDRA scientists, but all you could think was how much you needed Bucky and Steve. Even if they did find you now, they were going to miss the birth of their daughter, and the longer your labor progressed, the harder it was to hang on to hope they’d find you at all.

Azi rubbed your back through a long contraction as you bent over the bed. You’d been left alone again, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until the urge to push hit you. You were in that period of serious pain where everything felt helpless and all you wanted to do was be with your boyfriends and curse them out for doing this to you. Instead, you were in pain and terrified and with a woman who was even more scared than you. Gal slept in the bassinet and part of you was even concerned that if you made too much noise would wake him and take Azi’s attention off you.

“You’re doing great,” she soothed. “I think it won’t be long.”

“I don’t want them to deliver her,” you whined. “I don’t want to do this here.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. I’m here.”

A siren started sounding, waking Gal so the baby's cries blended in with the harsh screeching of the alarms. Azi looked around and hurried over to the infant. “Hey, mommy’s here… I’ve got you,” she said, lifting him and holding him so one ear was pressed to her chest and the other was covered by her hand. “What is that?”

Hope began to creep in again. They’d found you. You knew it. It was only a matter of time before you’d be safe again. You might even get to have this baby with them there with you.

Another contraction hit and you felt the need to push. With Azi distracted with Gal and the sirens sounding, you weren’t sure what to do. “Oh god,” you groaned, gritting your teeth and resisting the urge.

The sirens stopped and you heard footsteps run down the hall. You couldn’t be sure, but you had a feeling they’d left you unguarded. Another contraction hit and as it was ending the doors opened. “Mommy,” Geo cried as he ran over to you. “I don’t wanna be here.”

“I know,” you said, rubbing his back. You looked around unsure what to do. If you stayed here, then you were somewhere set up to deliver a baby, and hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long for Steve or Bucky to find you. The problem was if you stayed here all of HYDRA knew where you were too, and if they were going to try and take you out of here before Steve or Bucky could get to you, then staying here let them do that.

You gritted your teeth. “Geo,” you said. “Do you think you can get the building to take us to a safer room?”

He nodded and took your hand. “Azi, let’s go.”

She didn’t move and you doubled over in pain as another contraction hit. “Mommy?” Geo said, looking at you in fear.

“It’s okay, Geo,” you assured him. “Your sister is coming.” You looked back to Azi. “Azi! We have to go!”

She jumped and followed after you. Geo led you out into the hall, clinging to your hand and pulling you along. There were the sounds of shouting and gunfire, but while none sounded close yet, it was rapidly getting closer. It was coming from several different sides and you began to worry that there wasn’t going to be anywhere safe to go.

Another contraction hit as you turned a corner and you almost collapsed to your knees. The urge to push was intense and you had to consciously clench. You were worried she might already be crowning.

“Mom, please,” Geo said, a look of pure panic. “They’re coming.”

You tried to move, but all you could manage was a few staggered steps.

“Stop them!”

Azi jumped and you flinched at the sound of Viper’s voice as she came around the corner. You pushed Geo behind you and tried to get him to move him forward. Azi squared up, holding her baby so he was slightly protected. “Get away from us!” She screamed.

“There’s no use running, you idiots,” Viper snarled as the guards moved forward. “Where do you think you’re going to go.”

Azi pushed Gal into your arms and charged at the guards, a look of wild rage on her face.

“Azi! No!” You screamed.

Everything happened in slow motion. Azi charged at them hands up like she was going to claw their eyes out and lept at the guard closest. He stumbled back, and the gun went off. Azi’s face froze as blood erupted out of her back. You pulled Geo close as he began to wail and hid his face in your side. For a second you weren’t even aware of the alarms going off again, as both Geo and Gal were screaming.

“Geo, run, go,” you said, pushing him forward. He wouldn’t let go of your hand and you were worried that you weren’t going to be able to convince him to move.

“You idiots! We needed her!” Viper screeched. “Get out of my way!”

She ran at you and you pushed Geo forward in an attempt to get away, knowing full well in your state you weren’t getting anywhere. You managed to waddle forward a few steps as loud blasts erupted behind you. Viper grabbed your shoulder and yanked you back. You held Gal closer to you, sure she was about to make you drop him and a gunshot ran out behind you.

Viper’s grip relaxed and she slumped to the ground behind you.

“Daddy!” Geo shouted as he looked around your legs.

You spun around. Behind you, the hall was complete chaos. The lights were flashing red and white and there were some of Iron Legion rounding up the few guards that Viper had with her. Ari’s body was on the ground and one of the Legion seemed to be assessing it, while Viper's body lay at your feet.

Bucky hurried down the hall, shouldering his rifle. “I’m here,” Bucky said, scooping the boy up. “I’ve got you.”

Geo buried his face in Bucky’s neck and gradually the alarms calmed down and the lights settled. Bucky put his arm around you. “I’ve got you, darlin’,” he said.

“Oh god, Bucky,” you said, the emotions breaking as you started to tremble in his arms. “Take the baby.”

He took the infant from you and you held his elbow as another contraction hit. “Is this her?” He asked.

You shook your head. “No…” you said through gritted teeth. “But she’s coming.”

“Shit,” he cursed. “Come on. Let's get you somewhere safe.”

Geo pointed to a door and Bucky helped walk you to it, even as your body fought you moving at all. “I need one of you to guard,” Bucky barked at the Legion. One flew into place, standing at the door with its hands up and repulsors at the ready.

Bucky moved you inside and your knees buckled - like you’d been holding out until you had even one fragment of safety. Bucky kneeled down beside you, still juggling Geo on the baby. Geo was clinging to him like a koala and he hadn’t lifted his head from the spot in Bucky’s neck since he’d lifted the boy into place.

“Let me see,” Bucky said.

You got on your hands and knees and lifted the gown they’d put you in, spreading your legs until you were as comfortable as you could be. Bucky sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Steve, you read me?” He said. “I’ve found them. And I’d suggest getting to us as quickly as you can if you wanna see your daughter born.”

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #pregnancy #until the end of the world

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baku-writes · 3 years

Note

Omgggg I just love the hawks request you did it was amazing and sooo good imma request something similar to it but with DABI/ Touya todoroki can you do where the reader and Touya as children like yk childhood friends both grew up with parents who abused them and one day Touya was about to get beaten badly in training and the reader took it for them ( timeskip when they learnt Touya died they were absolutely sadand almost suicide? And DABI finds her in time and they just talk and confess? <333 :)

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS IDEA!! Personally, even though Dabi isn't my fav character I love his backstory. I just find it so interesting.

Touya todoroki x gn!reader (mostly children versions so angst and fluff)

TW: Abuse, fake suicide (?), suicidal thoughts, minor bodily injury (mentions of burnt skin, bruises and blood). ANGST, spoilers (?)

Back from the dead

Summary: you and touya todoroki grew up together and were both victims of brutal parenting. However, when you took the punishment for Touya it was the final straw... he wasn't Touya anymore...

Life was difficult.

It always had been.

Your entire life you were told you would be nothing, your parents beat you into submission until no motivation ever sparked within you other than to be what they wanted. They wanted a hero. The next number one, just like allmight. They didn't want another version of endeavor, but a capable young hero who could fight any villain and take them down with ease.

Your parents weren't pro heroes, both were rejected by UA and didn't pass the hero course for any other school. It crushed them. But also drove them to insanity. Everything they had ever worked for in their childhood come crashing down within a short period of their lives, that is how the both met. However, when they had you they saw a sadistic glimmer of hope. Hope that their 'spawn' could do what they couldn't and hope that their child could live out their dream for them.

And so they would train you. And train you. And train you. Until you couldn't walk, talk and sometimes even eat due to exhaustion. But once they realised they could no longer give you any more training boosts due to their lack of experience, they handed you off to the number 2, endeavour. Even though they despised him, if that is what they had to do to make you strong.... they were going to make you do it.

And there you met Touya. A young boy, the same age as you, with aspirations and dreams of becoming the hero his father wanted him to be. However, like your parents, they taught this motivation through sadistic punishments and abusive training.

It was obvious the kid was worn out. Burn scars scorched his arms and even his face. It confused you, but also made you protective of him. You hated how overworked he was. You hated to see him get hurt. Ofcourse you wouldn't tell anyone this, knowing your sadistic parents they would threaten his life to motivate you.

One day it was the usual training. Your parents dropped you off at the number 2's house, with only a single bottle of water and a small dirt kids towel. Your overgrown and unkept hair was in an uncomfortably tight messy bun and your limbs ached from the previous days grueling training.

The day started off as normal: using your quirk until you couldn't do it anymore or collapse from exhaustion. Your quirk is called manipulation, it allows you to manipulate the shapes of near by non living objects, fir example you could make a smooth rock spiky. However, your quirk took a lot of focus and energy, so far you could only use your quirk on objects as large as a vase, you were only young.

Touya was next to you, hot flames spewing from his hands and arms. Singing his skin and burning the near by area... that was until he noticed his dads near by ornament fall and shatter on the ground.

Was this ornament important to endeavor? No. But would he still be pissed? Yes.

Fear immediately clouded Touya's mind....

"Nonononono" his panicked cries began to fill the room as you ran over to him, his cries would only alert endeavour sooner. Not because endeavour would be worried for him, but because endeavour would be angry at whatever he had done.

"Touya calm down. Here, I'll sweep it u-"

You barely had time to look up when you hear the sound of the door slam and angry heavy footsteps head towards the training room. Oh no. He's heard.

The door slammed open and silence cascaded over the room. Everything went still as time began to slow, the only sound you could hear was your heart thumping against your rib cage. Touya was going to get hurt.... and you hated that.

"Touya..... did you break the ornament?" He was calm at first. Some may see this as a good sign, but you two know better. He was going to explode any minute, he was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow.

"DID YOU BREAK THE FUCKING THING?" His voice was raised, his steps heading towards the two of you.

He raised his hand, ready to hit his son until your voice chimed in. Weak and unconfident you stood in front of your chest friend as you spoke.

"It was me... I broke it."

Silence filled the room. The scowl on his face grew deeper as he grabbed onto your arm with force.

"You know what's going to happen. Don't tell a fucking soul, you hear me?"

.....

After around 10 minutes you left the backroom, beaten and bloodied. Ofcourse, it wasn't to a severe extent, but still enough to hurt and be noticed by any possible strangers.

Touya didn't speak to you for the rest of the day.... and the next day training was cancelled...

Touya was dead.... death by fire. It was suicide. You knew it.

(TIME SKIP, CURRENT TIME)

The fall from the bridge seemed welcoming. You had got no where in life, running away from your parents at the age of 16 you found yourself helpless and homeless years later.

Recently, you discovered everything was a lie... Toiya wasn't dead... well the Touya you knew was. But the body if him was alive, just being controlled by a man who goes by the name "Dabi". You didn't want to accept that ot was your friend, you didn't want to accept the fact that you still liked him. He was a murderer... you should hate him. But what you hated even more was how you pitied endeavour, the abuser who tortured you two and lead his own son to 'suicide'. He had changed, but you will never forgive him.

The hopelessness and confusion in your life was too much. You let the cool air whip against your face for the final few minutes, you might as well enjoy the last moments in your life. Ironically, it was peaceful, you never really got peace before. And it had to be your final moments that ot decided to make an appearance.

Now was the time. The time to end this miserable life. The time to end the memories and pain that tormented you for years. You would never have to get hurt again, the pain will just stop and never appear. No one will miss you, your friend is gone and your family was never there. Tears began to pour down your face as you realised your life was nothing but a misery... you never even lived. You just survived...

You took a step closer to the ledge.

Until you felt a harsh tug pull you back and force you onto the concrete floor.

"OW WHAT THE HELL?!"

Your head shot up to glare at who ever pulled you down to the ground. But your blood ran cold as a white haired 5'9 figure covered in burn scars stood in front of you...

"D-dabi."

Shock overwhelmed your system, the tears ran down your face faster as you come face to face with your 'dead' best friend. The boy who abandoned you all those years ago..... the man who you never got over...

"Come on now, you know that's not my name." His smile creased his face and wrinkled his scars a little and his held out his hand to you. Warily, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up. Should you trust him? He was a murderer.... but he was your friend.....

"Long time no see, huh?" He chuckled a little bit. Was this a fucking normal meeting for him. Is he making a guxking joke out of this.... after he abandoned you all those years ago, just to become some low life thug who murders people. INNOCENT PEOPLE.

"What the fuck? Is this funny to you? You think this is funny? Laughing when you left me all those years ago. Laughing when you become this.... a- a... A monster, a freak who murderers out of revenge? Fuck you."

Anger shot through you. You don't care if this gets you killed, either he will do it or you'll do it yourself. He was a monster. A killer. Everything you ever despised in one person. A person you used to love turned into a revenge crazed maniac who kills the innocent.

Surprise flooded his features as you rammed a finger into his chest.

"YOU KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE. YOU HAVE PROBABLY KILLED FUCKING CHILDREN! Who the hell do you think you are coming to see me after what, 5 to 10 years? FUCK I don't even remember anymore because I don't see the point in keeping track of the days I had to live thinking you died! You're a monster...."

Your figure began to crumple, your tough exterior caving in as your pent up emotions broke free from their cage. You collapsed into his arms as he ran a soothing hand down your back. You were so confused.... you were angry yet happy. Sad at what he had become but proud of his strength to fight back...

"Why did you leave me Touya? I c-could of saved you..."

The cool breeze blew against the two of you as Touya continued running soothing strokes down your back. Suprisingly, he was guilty. But he wasn't here to see you upset. He was here to get you, save you, help you. He was here to take you to the LOV, his new family.

"I know I left, but I'm here now. I'm taking you to the League, but I promise they won't hurt you. They are family, you want to change the world right? Fix society? That's our goal too. We have all been hurt one way or another.... but please. Come with me. Let me make up for the time we have missed out on so far, let me be the man you need."

You looked up at him, your eyes sore from crying and nose running. Slowly, you nodded. His warm embrace was welcoming, the first hug you have had in at least 5 years.

"Okay...... but you have to take ms out on a date first." A small goggle escaped your lips as you expected a disgusted face to scrunch his features.

But instead...

"Sure, but we're heading over to the LOV hide out right now sweetheart."

Surprise filled your features as be smiled again, his smile just like his old self.

....

Maybe the new Touya wasn't that bad... maybe the old Touya never left...

-----------------

Never wrote for Dabi before so I hope this is good enough!!! Sorry if it took a while to write, I've had a few mental health things pop up within the last 2 days but I'm going to be okay <33. Let me know if this is what you wanted 💞💞

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calliopesstories · 3 years

Text

The Heart Of A King - Chapter 1

Relationship: Caspian X Susan, Caspian X Reader, Platonic!Susan and Platonic!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut (I’ll try the best I can), historical inaccuracy, misogyny and belief of 16th century, mention of death and sex, arranged marriage, /!\ Not proof read and non-english speaker writter /!\

Summary: There are opportunities in life that you have to take but you were different tough. Since you were born you always had things given to you on a silver plate. Yet you decided to create your own opportunities the day you chose to follow your father in all of his travels. It was no surprise for your parent when you left them no choice but to take you with them to the court of Cair Paravel, heart of your homeland. Even in your wildest dream you would have never thought of what destiny had in store for you when you took that opportunity and stepped in the castle of King Caspian and Queen Susan.

Words: 3,027

Author’s Note: Narnia (and the islands as well as the surrounding countries) is located in the Atlantic sea next to the strait of Gibraltar. It’s a mix between Southern Spain in terms of architecture and temperature, UK/France in terms of landscape and of course what you can see in the movies and be described in the books.

Two days of sea then just as much by carriage to reach the most magnificent palace of Narnia. No need to say it was all worth it. Nothing could compare to the beauty of Cair Paravel, its garden viewing the ocean, its impeccable white walls made of marble and the stained glasses that was colouring the inside of the castle in various colours. Last time you had been within the walls of this palace you were a child no older than five and yet it felt like yesterday. Nothing was as breath-taking as the home of the kings of Narnia, not even your father’s castle at Narrowhaven which was praised for its uniqueness and atypic beauty. Anyone who would be away from their home would feel homesick quickly but not you, you had left Narrowhaven when you were nine and only came back last year.

Your father was the Grand Ambassador of King Caspian; he had started his duty under the rule of the king’s father and had sworn loyalty to his son. Thanks to his duty to the crown he had met your mother, he had married her and sired you, their one and only child. They had never needed more; you were everything they wanted and one day you would inherit the land and titles hold by your father. You were already marchioness of Narrowhaven however one day you would become the Duchess of the Lone Islands, courtesy of King Caspian IX. Not a lot of noble houses could brag about the fact that the king himself had gave them the right of female peerage. Just a few of you – daughters of high-ranking nobles – could take on the titles even with a male heir in the line of succession at the condition of the girl being born first. Not even the royal family had that right. Not that it made you feel particularly lucky, it was nice to think the castle you had grew up in would stay in your family forever even after marriage.

The carriage stops right in front of the palace entrance. A flight of stairs leads to wooden graved doors decorated with gold and silver. You remembered well the tree with two trunks engraved on the doors after an old legend of Narnia but your child mind must have deceived you as you thought the doors were so big that giants must have lived here before. Turns out the door were huge, but not that much. They were twice the size of a grow man. Behind you servants were taking your personal items in order to put them where you’ll be leaving from now on.

“You have the right to breath you know,” your father took your arm and patted gently your hand. “It’s not the first king you meet.”

“There is a huge difference between a foreign king and the one for whom your father is working.”

“Don’t worry Y/N, King Caspian is gentle and patient man. He knows you had never done this before that’s why Lady Prunaprismia will stay with you for a month then you will need no one’s help,” encouraged your mother.

She knew you by heart. Every look, every breath and every head tilting had a significance your mother had no difficulties to understand. So when she saw you biting your lower lip, she understood how unsure of her statement you were. She had no doubt you would do well on your job. There were a few prized places at court that a woman of your status could hope to have: lady-in-waiting to the women of the royal family or governess to the king’s children. Those were official jobs but there was one every noble woman craved to have: mistress to the king. You had seen how this works and from one country to another, things weren’t that different. all hoped to dethrone the queen, thinking the king who loved them enough to put an alliance forged for years into the dirt for the beauty of their smile or whatever prowess they were doing in the royal bed. Foolish girls with foolish dreams.

You were content with the place your mother had found you. What better way to learn the way of life than to help one grow? Prince Rilian wasn’t the son of Queen Susan yet she was the one who appointed you governess of the sole heir of the kingdom. This was thanks to your mother, the former governess of the queen. She had raised the Queen before she became your mother and by the way she was speaking of the queen you knew she was like a daughter to her although no one could take your place in her heart.

You finally arrived in the throne room. The glass roof and the stained glasses gave the place an ethereal look worth of kings and queens. At the end of the room was standing four thrones of marble in front of a golden stained glass. You knew only three of them were occupied because the two were for the king and his queen, one was for the crown prince and the last throne was for the royal advisor – who had been executed last year for treason. The royal couple was waiting, stoically in their throne. You had no chance to look at them as you kneeled in front of your king and your queen before your father did, he had the privilege to stand in front of the king he had seen grow up.

“His Grace Y/F/N, Duke of the Lone Islands, his wife Y/M/N, Duchess of the Lone Islands and their daughter the Lady Y/N,” announced a man on your right. “Welcome to the court of His Majesty King Caspian X and Her Majesty Queen Susan.”

“Thank you Trumpkin but I know Lord Y/F/N for long enough to need no introduction. Please stand up my ladies there is no need for that between us.”

You stood up and saw for the first time the king with your own eyes. You had heard stories about how handsome of a man he was and he truly was but more than that he had this glimmer in his eyes, something close to melancholia although well hidden behind a dazzling smile. You could lose yourself in his eyes. It was the voice of your mother that made you realised you were staring at the king for far too long. The queen had walk to your mother and the both of them exchanged some words before they turned to you. You bowed before the queen who wasn’t older than you.

“I heard so much about you,” said Susan taking your hands in hers. Her smile was infectious and bright, contrary to her husband she was glowing with joy. “I’m sure will become good friends you and I.”

“I hope so Your Majesty,” you really hoped to be in the queen’s good grace.

“Last time I saw you, you were unable to keep yourself still.”

“You remember Your Majesty?” asked your father. You had been told that the King and you had met when you were younger but you had no memories of such event. “Well, I must say Y/N has changed since.”

“I can only agree with you.”

You smiled at your father; you knew what he meant by this statement. You had become less impatient, more careful of your words and most importantly you were smart, street smart. You had helped him many times and he liked to think he was the reason why you were doing so good around people. But you were lacking the subtility to leave at court for a long time, which was a good thing when you were traveling around the globe with your father, staying at court for short periods but now you were to live at Cair Paravel for as long as the king would want you around, and unbeknown to you the king was thinking about the length of your stay.

A door opened at your right and a small child ran pass you to be catch by the king. The prince you were supposed to take care of and who look exactly like his father if it wasn’t for his light baby blue eyes that was surely from his mother’s side. The young prince laughed in his father’s arms; he tried to push away from his face from the beard his father bore and that was probably irritating his soft and sensitive skin. The prince was five years old – for what you’ve been told – but he was taller the average five years-old, something he must have got from his father. The woman with him was his great-aunt, the Lady Prunaprismia, wife of King Caspian’s former advisor and his aunt by marriage. Although he holds no grudge against the woman for her husband’s betrayal, she had been asked to leave court forever. The King was a kind man but he wasn’t a very forgiving one. Not when it concerned his father and by extension his mother.

“Rilian, this is Lady Y/N, she’s going to take care of you once aunt Prunaprismia will be gone,” informed Caspian. He put the child back on his feet and Rilian bowed before you. You imitated the prince, a huge smile on your face, won over by the child sweetness. The King kneeled next to his son and looked at him in the eyes. “I want you to behave with Lady Y/N like you’ll do with your aunt. Be nice, can you do that for me?”

The prince energetically nodded widening your smile even more. King Caspian planted a kiss on his forehead. You saw him saying something to his son but couldn’t quite hear what it was. The queen had reached a hand for the prince to take but he preferred to stay with his current governess. The hurt in Queen Susan’s eyes was left unnoticed by you. it was common knowledge that, after five years of marriage, the queen hadn’t been pregnant once. Some rumours said she was barren, others that she had been made queen for very political reasons – which was the case for most queens though – and others that the king was never sharing her bed, still mourning his first wife, the one that gave him his heir, the one he had been in love with. And, after all, with an heir alive did he truly needs another child if he doesn’t love his current queen?

Rilian and Prunaprismia left the group alone after the lady gave you a meeting point for the next day. Right after your mother and you were taken to your quarters while your father staid with the King to discuss important matter. It took you fifteen to arrive there. There were four separate rooms: two bedrooms, one for your parents and one for you, both at the opposite from one another and with separate entrance. A common room with a fire place, chairs, shelves filled with books and it was the room you entered first. Next to it there was a dining room big enough to fit ten people around the table and was only furnished with a sideboard to contain plates, forks, knives and the usual.

Your room had a view of the garden and the sea, although you had been assured it would be temporary – you were supposed to get the one next to the prince’s – it was provided with all the luxuries you could think of. The decoration was elegant and refined, suiting a woman of your age and status. You had everything you could need, even your ladies-in-waiting you were sure had stayed at Narrowhaven. Those ladies were from smaller houses, ranks below your high-birth but they were your closest friends. Your only friends for that matter. Marwen, Cora and Lyria had been in your life since you were four, they had been your friends before being at your family’s service. They had travelled the world with you and your father, not once had they complained. They were the most loyal people you knew. After your father that is. Just seeing them made you happy and ready to face whatever the future had in store for you.

Later that day Lady Prunaprismia’s servant had come to your door to take you to her quarters – which was supposed to become yours in a month. Lady Prunaprismia was in the middle of the room, waiting for you, the king by her side. On the table behind them was a book, both of them assumed you knew how to read and write, you were part of one of the great houses of Narnia, it would have been improper for you and your family to be illiterate. The king was the first to sit down, quickly followed by his aunt; again there were side by side while you were asked to sit across the table. You never liked being outnumbered and it was even more intimidating with the King right in front of you.

“You have the right to breath you know,” King Caspian had leaned on the table to comfort you. you let out a stressed laughed but it made you realised you had been holding your breath. You took a deep breath and felt better. “That’s more like it.”

“Lady Y/N, this book is the most important book in this castle. It holds all of the prince’s needs, medical events and so on. Until the day you’ll be left alone with him I am going to ask you to study this book to the point where you’ll know it by heart, words for words.”

You opened the book carefully and the first sentence you read spoke about the prince’s books preferences, one of them you knew well as your father used to read it to you when you were younger. That memory brought a smile on your face. The book was quite big, there was a lot of information about Rilian and one month seemed like a too short amount of time to memories it all.

“My aunt is a bit extreme; some information is dated and don’t suit Rilian anymore,” you continued to flip through the book as the king continued to speak. “Besides you are to be is governess, not his nurse, you are tasked to educate my son, to teach him basic knowledge until he’ll be old enough for a tutor.”

“I’m allowed to enter the prince’s chamber at any given time?” you were sure you just had thought that but your mouth had decided to actually put sound on it. “Without permission or schedule!” Wow, that’s what you call trust!

“You won’t be the only one taking care of Rilian. As I told you he has nurses who are supposed to bath, to feed and to generally take care of his physical health. Make sure he’s in good shape, if you prefer. You are in charge of making sure they do their job.”

The close the book. You had never realised it was that much trouble taking care of a child. well, you guessed it wasn’t all day long a joyful stroll through the garden but God! Did the child really needed someone dedicated to wipe his butt? You remembered your childhood quite well and, in your memory, your parent partook a huge part of raising you into the woman you were today. But you kept that for yourself, not all parents have the same parenting technics, maybe it was how the king had been raised and he was a fine man. Besides, who were you to tell him how to raise a child? You had no child!

“I know it’s a lot to take in one day. Don’t worry, you have time,” Prunaprismia took your hands, a kind smile provoking another on your face. “And from what I heard from your mother; you are more than capable.”

“But if it’s really too much for you, I…we will understand, the Queen and I know taking care of a child, especially one who isn’t yours, can be demanding and challenging. If you think you won’t be up to the task, say it now or never, I’d rather know now and don’t worry it doesn’t mean you are not allowed in court anymore. That would be too cruel.”

“You can count on me, Your Majesty. I won’t let you down.”

You rose from your chair, taking the book in your arms and confidently walk away. That was the plan and, in your head, it was the perfect plan to show both of them how serious you were. Of course the cat didn’t agree with your plan and you tripped over him, falling on the ground. You heard Prunaprismia and King Caspian gasped before joining you, asking how you were doing. You felt humiliated. You just had fall on your ass in front of the king! God must have serious grudges over you! As you got back on your feet you swear you could see your pride and dignity staying on the floor by the devilish Shame. Hello you, you’re back again? You thought, sure to have left shame on the continent, somewhere in England or France.

You assured the King and Lady Prunaprismia that you were fine and – carefully – get out of the chamber. You had a month to learn everything about the prince and to create a bound with him strong enough to hold against the child losing one of the few people he had entire trust and love to. One single month for something that took five years for the Lady Prunaprismia to achieve. That was so you, accepting a challenge when you perfectly knew it would difficult and completely impossible. But ever since you had dared yourself to do things no one would have thought a girl of your birth would do, it had always opened a door to something interesting and bigger than you thought. If you think about it, what would have happened if you had stayed with your mother at Narrowhaven all your damn life? For sure you would have never met the Royal Couple and have a full conversation with the king.

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