ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─
ㅤㅤㅤ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉
"Something feels different. This is ain't the same Villain I fought before. No, something have changed... Who are you?"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─━━━━━━⊱☪⊰━━━━━━─
In this book, is a Reader Insert fanfic. Reader...
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💮
Beneath the gentle sway of the tree’s branches, Y/N rested in silence.
The cool night breeze carried the scent of grass and earth, brushing lightly across their face.
Draped over their shoulders was a dark, heavy haori, Kokushibo’s.
The fabric was warm, its weight a quiet shield against the chill of the evening.
Their head leaned gently against his shoulder, rising and falling with each steady breath of sleep.
Strands of their hair slipped loose, glinting faintly under the pale wash of moonlight.
Kokushibo sat beside them, his posture still and upright, his eyes closed as if in meditation.
His presence radiated both quiet vigilance and an unwilling softness.
The many eyes across his face and body remained shut, as though refusing to intrude upon the calm of this rare moment.
The silence was unbroken save for the faint rustle of leaves, the slow rhythm of Y/N’s breathing, and the distant hum of the night.
Though Kokushibo made no outward move, there was an unmistakable weight in the air, a quiet acceptance, almost possessive, that no harm would reach Y/N while they rested against him.
A quiet sigh slipped past Kokushibo’s lips, the sound barely audible beneath the hush of the night.
His gaze lifted toward the sky, where the horizon was beginning to pale, soft streaks of gray hinting that dawn was not far.
He lowered his head then, crimson eyes settling on Y/N.
Their face was relaxed in sleep, framed by strands of hair that shifted gently with each breath.
For a long moment, Kokushibo simply watched, unmoving.
Finally, with deliberate care, he shifted his position and slid an arm beneath their knees, the other wrapping firmly around their waist.
In one smooth motion, he lifted them into his arms.
Y/N stirred faintly, their head turning until their cheek rested against his chest.
They murmured something indistinct, soft words lost to drowsiness.
Kokushibo’s hold tightened ever so slightly, his voice a low murmur in return. “It is nothing,” he said, tone steady. “I am only taking you back to your room at the Butterfly Mansion.”
Y/N shifted again, curling slightly into his embrace, their breathing returning to the deep rhythm of sleep.
Kokushibo glanced once more at the paling horizon before starting forward, silent and composed, carrying them against his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. (A/n: the way I would let this man carry me around. LORD- 😫✋️)
