#( you would like to follow and write with her... manifesting this )
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
literaryvein-reblogs · 1 day ago
Note
hello, i was wondering if you had any information on mediums (like, able to communicate w ghosts)? thank you
Writing Notes: Medium
Tumblr media
Medium - a person who appears to be able to talk to the dead or, more generally, appears to communicate with invisible intelligences or receive “energy” from other dimensions of reality (Barušs, 2003a, 2014a).
They are sometimes sought out by the bereaved as a way of trying to confirm the continuing existence of the deceased, so that mediumship also has relevance for the treatment of grief (Beischel, Mosher, & Boccuzzi, 2014–2015).
Medium - (in occultism) a person reputedly able to make contact with the world of spirits, especially while in a state of trance.
A spiritualist medium is the central figure during a séance and sometimes requires the assistance of an invisible go-between, or control.
During a séance, disembodied voices are said to speak, either directly or through the medium.
Materialization of a disembodied spirit or of a specific part of a human body can allegedly take shape from a mysterious, viscous substance called ectoplasm that exudes from the medium’s body and subsequently disappears by returning to its original source.
At times the medium, or a material object, appears to float in the air (levitation).
Trance - a state that is like being asleep except that you can move and respond to questions and commands like a person who is awake
Séance - French “sitting” (in occultism) meeting centred on a medium, who seeks to communicate with spirits of the dead.
Because strong light is said to hinder communication, a séance usually takes place in darkness or subdued light.
It generally involves 6 or 8 persons, who normally form a circle and hold hands.
Believers assert that communication has been established when a disembodied voice is heard, or a voice speaks through the medium, or a ghostly apparition appears.
Sometimes music of unknown source seems to fill the room, objects appear to move for unnatural reasons, or a hand, a limb, or an entire body may take shape from ectoplasm (a peculiar viscous substance said to issue from the medium’s body).
Other alleged means of communication include automatic writing, trance speaking, or a ouija board or planchette.
Many of the seemingly mysterious phenomena manifested during séances are effected by the medium to validate his or her claim to supernatural powers.
That some spiritualists actually possess the ability to communicate with spirits, however, remains open to debate.
Dissociation, especially derealization or depersonalization, can readily be misconstrued as paranormal.
Example: Dissociation as an alternative hypothesis for the following:
After intense chanting, a medium enters a “trance” and is no longer aware of his surroundings (dissociation). He then communicates with a dead relative.
Good mediums can produce correct information, at least some of the time.
That is consistent with some cases of spontaneous and induced after-death communication.
But is that information coming from dead people? Could mediums, and others experiencing apparent after-death communication, just be good at picking up information from the living or from physical sources wherever the necessary information might be found?
The former explanation has been called the survival hypothesis, whereas the latter explanation has been called the super-psi hypothesis (Braude, 2003; see also P. F. Cunningham, 2012).
History of Spiritualism. Spiritualism is a collection of beliefs based on the claim that spirits or departed souls live in a realm beyond our material universe. In the 19th century, seances, ceremonies in which mediums communicated with the dead, became fashionable winter night parlor entertainment. Popular mediums would roam from city to city and amaze thousands with their astonishing communications with the departed. In the United States, in time spiritualism became a social movement that offered hope of an afterlife for those grieving the slaughter of the civil war and skeptical of a Christianity newly challenged by science, especially Darwin. Spiritualists fought against slavery (in the afterlife all are equal) and the movement provided women with a rare public role not unlike that enjoyed by male priests (mediums were female). This movement set the stage for current widespread interest in channeling, psychics, parapsychology, and faith healing. Organized scholarly research into the paranormal began with serious investigations of spiritualist claims.
Psychic vs. Medium
As an adjective, psychic means “of or relating to the human soul or mind,” or something mental as opposed to physical.
It’s also defined in psychology as “pertaining to or noting mental phenomena,” which describes being in tune to some nonphysical force or agency.
For example, Having heard that colors can provoke a psychic response, I decided to paint the room a calming blue.
Psychic can also mean “sensitive to influences or forces of a nonphysical or supernatural nature.”
So if someone or something is influenced by a mysterious force that’s outside physical science or knowledge, it’s a psychic influence.
For example, it was a psychic feeling that led him to run out of the building right before a fire started.
As an adjective, some synonyms for psychic are:
spiritual,
supernatural,
paranormal,
psychological, and
metaphysical.
As a noun, psychic refers to “a person who is sensitive to psychic influences or forces.”
For example, since she was a little girl, John’s grandmother has sworn she’s a psychic and can tell when something bad will happen.
In addition to medium, other synonyms for psychic as a noun include clairvoyant, fortune-teller, and prophet.
First recorded in 1855–60, psychic originates from the Greek word psȳchikós, meaning “of the soul.”
Types of Mediumship
In modern spiritualism, mediumship can be generally divided into 2 forms:
Physical mediumship generally involves anything happening of a physical nature that can be perceived by the medium and others present.
Mental mediumship involves communication from the spirit world which is interpreted through the mind and consciousness of the medium.
Examples: Famous Mediums
William Stainton Moses: Moses, a medium from the late nineteenth century, would hold séances during which psychic lights would appear. He also had experiences of levitation, and the appearance of scents like musk and freshly mown hay. Musical sounds would often be heard with no musical instruments in the room, as well as the materialization of luminous hands and pillars of light. Moses also produced a great number of automatic writings, including his most well known scripts, Spirit Teachings (1883) and Spirit Identity (1879).
Fransisco (Chico) Xavier: Born in 1910, Xavier was a famous Brazilian medium, often appearing on television. He produced his first automatic writing in grade school, where he claimed that an essay was given to him by a spirit. He went on to amass an enormous number of automatic writing scripts in various scientific and literary disciplines, and is one of the world's most prolific automatic writers.
Daniel Dunglas Home: Home was one of the most well-known mediums of the nineteenth century. Scottish born, he performed a number of séances for royalty and other well-respected people. He was most famous for his levitations, one of which took place outside a third story window. Though many, including Houdini accused Home of trickery, he was never once exposed as a fraud.
Psychologist Terence Hines, in his book Pseudoscience and the Paranormal:
Modern spiritualists and psychics keep detailed files on their victims. As might be expected, these files can be very valuable and are often passed on from one medium or psychic to another when one retires or dies. Even if a psychic doesn't use a private detective or have immediate access to driver's license records and such, there is still a very powerful technique that will allow the psychic to convince people that the psychic knows all about them, their problems, and their deep personal secrets, fears, and desires. The technique is called cold reading and is probably as old as charlatanism itself... If John Edward (or any of the other self-proclaimed speakers with the dead) really could communicate with the dead, it would be a trivial matter to prove it. All that would be necessary would be for him to contact any of the thousands of missing persons who are presumed dead—famous (e.g., Jimmy Hoffa, Judge Crater) or otherwise—and correctly report where the body is. Of course, this is never done. All we get, instead, are platitudes to the effect that Aunt Millie, who liked green plates, is happy on the other side.
Some Related Character Tropes
I See Dead People: Mediums are a special category of psychic; people with a sixth sense that allows them to see, hear and/or touch ghosts for better or for worse.
Magnetic Medium: Psychics tend to attract things only they can perceive. Whether they're unknowingly sending out psychic signals or just bad luck is anyone's guess.
Unhappy Medium: Having psychic powers can suck.
Examples
Dante in Coco can see the spirits of dead relatives and interact with them, because he's an alebrije. Miguel temporarily gains this when he steals Ernesto de la Cruz's guitar, causing him to cross over to the spirit realm.
A big part of the classic Charles Dickens tale A Christmas Carol, wherein Ebenezer Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his old partner, Jacob Marley, heralding the coming of the three spirits of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Future, "yet to come".
Cassandra from Classical Mythology, though not at first. The curse was separate from the prophesy part — she got prophesy as a blessing from Apollo, then pissed him off, so he added on a curse that she'd never be believed.
Everything Everywhere All at Once: Jobu Tabaki can see all possible outcomes of every action because she is present in all her alternate selves simultaneously. This has driven her to total nihilism and a desire to destroy the entire universe just to make it stop.
In The Sixth Sense, Cole Sear is frequently harassed by the spirits of the dead, whom only he can see and hear (and get mauled by, occasionally). Since he's only about ten years old, he is understandably freaked out by this.
The X-Files: Seeing ghosts is the X-file of the episode "Elegy". People report seeing wounded women who seemed silently asking for help in strange places where they had actually never appeared when alive. They always brought the ominous message "s/he is me". It turns out the apparitions happened very close to the moment of their death and only people who were close to death themselves could see them.
Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs
Hope this helps with your writing!
51 notes · View notes
cinnamunspice · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
multimuse ⚡ featuring percy jackson's 'thalia grace'. ⚡ MUTUALS ONLY. GUIDELINES FOUND HERE.
6 notes · View notes
pastel-rights · 1 year ago
Text
asta.
darling.
dearest.
beloved.
get this man AWAY from me.
Tumblr media
#( he disgusts me. )#( i need him GONE. )#( if you love me. you'll support me in hating this straight white alpha male lookin' ass who is a walking red flag. )#( he probably spews misinformation. he'd follow Nick Adams religiously. No no. he IS the Nick Adams of the HSR universe actually. )#( he probably got pissed off at the fact the green M&M changed her boots from some casual wear shoes. )#( he would call me slurs. he'd push traditional gender roles on me with a smile on his face knowing I hate it. )#( he'd watch Andrew Tate just to piss everyone off. He doesn't actually believe in it but he lives and breathes to be an ASSHOLE. )#( everyday i become a little less phobic of jing yuan. long gone are the days of me hating on the general who buries himself and his emotio#in his work that he never ACTUALLY gets done and writing letters capable of making god cry and scream and sob. now I hate on the#manifestation of the white alpha males who act like the world revolves around them and everyone around them are like chess pieces on their#personal chess boards. GOD.)#( he feels like he'd be homophobic too. homophobic yet he's already killed every homophobe in a 20 mile radius. he's a trans rights#activist but somehow he also bullies the closest trans people in his area. he's an asshole without purpose and I need him GONE. )#( and AND you know WHAT? i'm RIGHT. just LOOK at him. he has a whole ass book on how to piss everyone off and 300 of those pages are#dedicated to just me specifically. )#( i'm five seconds away from shoving my foot up his ass. )#( I need this man GONE. Asta. I need him to disAPPPEAR. )#( this is all /lh and /j btw I'm just violently hating on him rn /lh )
3 notes · View notes
thisismeracing · 11 months ago
Text
King of manifesting | CL16
― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x singer!reader ― Warnings: curse words and typos; ― Summary: You've been secretly dating Charles for a while, but fans can't believe it when the rumors start to go around. What do you mean a vroom-vroom Ferrari guy is dating their idol? (based on this request).
Tumblr media
▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
yourusername
Tumblr media
liked by sza, charles_leclerc, and others
yourusername NOT AN ANGEL
view all comments
tyla I am so readyyyyy 😍
holdmeyn mommy- I mean- mommy- yes mommy- 😳
biebernation this new single is about to feed me so well I won’t ever be hungry again
monaclerc ariana (charles) what are u doing hereeee
tsunodalover I love Charles but I’ll have to agree with the twitter stans… his chances are low to zero
onedsainz its the hottest woman alive 💞💕🧡💝💜💘💖💙💕🩷💙💕🧡💗💚💓💛🩶💜🧡💕💙🤎🤍🩷💙💕
popyn she’s so pretty and so talented, hows that possible
ylnmidnights someone tell that vroom vroom guy to get lost!!!! 😤😤 yn is for the gays and the girls only!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tumblr media
charles_leclerc
Tumblr media
liked by pierregasly, lewishamilton, and others
charles_leclerc it's just me and you 🩵 2.0
view all comments
igfansixteen 2.0 as in two months right? 😀
⤷ sunshineyn no bestie, I think as in tow years....
yourusername my golden boy ❤️
yourusername I love you
⤷ charles_leclerc I love you more
⤷ hammertimerfour I believe him lol
⤷ oconzinho he's a simp fr
zendaya 😍😍😍
sza so... new love song when?
⤷ f1direction she's just like us, I love her
popyn I still can’t believe he bagged her
sixteenmonaco I’m Charles’ fan and even I am having trouble believing his non stop talk about her worked 😭
schumicedes God, I see what you've done for others......
Tumblr media Tumblr media
────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece! :D let me know your thoughts! and, as usual, reblogs and comments are always welcome *mwah*
If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘
▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.
taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @v1naco @skepvids @khaylin27 @bernelflo @fakehappy27
©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.
― Reminder: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛
1K notes · View notes
aeneia-art · 1 month ago
Text
As much as 100% Lucanis Dellamorte has never had sex before and the image of him being so unsure about the whole thing is real fucking cute - do you really think for a second Caterina was going to leave her heir having no idea what the hell goes on in the bedroom? Sex is a known weapon to the Antivan Crows, used often. That means whether he wants to have sex or not, someone CAN use it against him, and they undoubtedly will. She's not going to leave the Dellamorte grandchildren wide open. Just happens that Illario took to it, and Lucanis didn't.
Yeah sure he might never have followed it up, but he probably got his sex ed talk from a well respected courtesan or crow who specialised in seduction, male or female, who explained every little intricacy, expectation and way that seduction, foreplay and sex worked.
What's more: it seems much like actual renassiance italy, antiva has a high expectation around passion and intense emotion, but with even less prudery because there is no expectation around priests, and that manifests in open depictions and discussions of the nude body, passionate writings about intimacy (we know Lucanis likes Romance novels), and sex workers being MORE naturalised. (It was very expected that any nobleman worth his salt should have a Mistress, because otherwise who even were you? Poor? ) Having the favoured heir of the First Talon being a blushing confused mess about sex would look weak.
Not having had sex is not the same as not knowing what the hell he is doing.
(Also for all my beloved Illario fans out there - ILLARIO TOTALLY HAS MISTRESSES (of whatever gender you prefer we are equal here), and not just one or two flings, something pretty he keeps as a status symbol, you'll take that from my cold dead hands.)
241 notes · View notes
juletheghoul · 2 months ago
Note
Hi, thanks for continuously expanding the story of The General. I like reading it. :) I'm just wondering if you might feel like writing kind of like sci/fi time travel troupe where a woman (willfull and stubborn) from the present gets transported back to ancient Rome and meets Marcus Acacius. How would their dynamics be?
Obsessed with this, genuinely—I started a little something 👀
Not sure if I’ll continue it or make it into something big but I loved the idea of them not even understanding one another.
Hope you enjoy! 💕
Tumblr media
(Not beta’d, barely proofread)
Warnings; threat of violence, language, shifting POV, plenty of historical inaccuracies I’m sure lol
Pairing; Marcus Acacius x Modern F!reader (time travel shenanigans)
Word count; 1.4k
-
The sigh doesn’t fix anything, but it helps with the frustration. So you let out another one, deeper than the original while you gather your wits. This was Rome, a massive city with millions of tourists trekking through it just like you, surely if they could do it without getting hopelessly lost, you could too.
The ruins were a maze, incredibly easy to get mixed up and turned around in. It was just a matter of retracing your steps and rejoining your group. Easy peasy.
With renewed optimism, you follow the sounds of people ringing through the remnants of the temple, or bathhouse, or gladiatorial training rooms… where the fuck even am I again?
You backtrack through the doorway, turning left into what must have been an antichamber, or dormitory? The mosaic under your feet isn’t familiar and a sense of dread creeps along your spine, should you have turned right? There’s a giant arch in the distance, one you distinctly don’t remember walking through. It doesn’t look as aged as the rest of the structure, most likely preserved when the site was excavated.
Walking through the arch fills you with a foreboding dread, like being dunked in ice water. It leaves you dazed, stumbling into the light of the sun almost drunk. An open door all but manifests and it’s with a relief so great it almost pulls tears from your eyes that you finally exit the building and step into the open air. You cannot help but laugh at yourself, embarrassed by your reaction, by the silly fear of getting lost.
The sun is hotter than you remembered it being when you left the hotel that morning and all at once the desire to explore and take in the culture all but evaporated. Resigned to abandon the tour, you decide to make your way back to the hotel. The new goal, the new prize for the day is a shower and an ungodly amount of pasta.
The road is nowhere to be found. The tourists have disappeared, and have been replaced with what looked to be actors. A fresh horror spreads through your veins, the exit you came out of must have led somewhere you were definitely not supposed to be.
-
He’d been called forth to deal with a strange situation. A woman had somehow infiltrated his camp. He frowned at the news, scoffing at the sentinel who’d brought it to him.
“A woman? Solitary? One woman snuck passed you and made her way into my camp?” He all but sneered at the soldier, anger pulsing in his head to learn that his guards were not as observant as he would have thought, as he trained them to be.
“General, by the Gods, we did not see her. One moment there was no one and then the next she was there, like some apparition.” He seems rattled, Acacius didn’t blame him. A lapse in protection meant death and dishonour. It meant his army was not in the shape it should be. Rome was not safe, not protected.
“Well, what has she to say for herself? What explanation did she provide for her miraculous presence here?”
“We do not know, we cannot understand her.”
He sighs. Anger bleeds into his tone when he orders her brought to him, dismissing the useless soldier in the process.
When they bring her to him, he frowns. Her robes confuse him, the fabric almost painted in the strangest shades, some he’s never even seen. She clutches at a bag, at a strange jar and although her voice is clearly agitated and angry, he cannot understand the words she speaks. Her face is painted, eyes darkened with some sort of kohl, lips shiny with oil and for a moment he thinks she might be one of the women who sold herself.
“Peace, woman.” He puts his hands up and speaks slowly, “I need to know where you come from, and why you are here. What is it you seek?” She twists her face in confusion, anger colouring her voice more still. She screams at him in more words he doesn’t understand until the soldiers that had brought her approach to no doubt silence her. At the sound of their footsteps her eyes widen with what he knows is genuine fear.
“Don’t.” He commands them, and they stop in their tracks. “Leave her with me. Go about your business, and tighten up the borders of this camp.” He sends them away with daggers in his voice.
“But General-what if she attacks?” They hesitate for a moment.
“I can handle her. Go.” They leave, her eyes follow them before turning back to him. She speaks again but he shakes his head.
“What am I to do with you then, hm?”
-
If you had known that you’d land in some insane fucking ancient Roman reenactment, you would have stayed in the hotel.
The older man is really into his role, some high and mighty soldier or general on a power trip or God fucking knows what, holds you in his tent. You try to explain to him calmly and then not so calmly that this is a mistake, that you didn’t mean to crash their party and that you just want to make it back to the hotel. He frowns, and shakes his head with confusion. He responds in his own language, what you imagine is Latin and the frustration floods you once more.
“If you cannot help me, I will leave. I’ll just go back through the stupid building and see if I can catch up with my tour group. If they haven’t already left, God if I missed my shuttle I will lose my fucking mind.” With a sigh you clutch at your bag and turn towards the entrance. You don’t make it three steps before he grabs at your arm, holding you in place with what sounds like a stern warning.
“Listen, I appreciate the realism and everything here, but let go, I need to leave.” You try to shake out of his grip but it’s iron, his big hand tightens enough to hurt.
“You’re hurting me, let me go!” With a growing fear, you try harder until he pulls a knife from a hidden pocket and presses it to your throat. He points to the entrance, to you, and then presses the tip to your neck once more.
You cannot understand his words, but the warning is crystal clear. If you leave, he will kill you.
“Intellego?” You can infer what he must mean, and so you nod. He returns the gesture and puts the knife away. He moves about the tent while you stand there, arms aching from clutching at your things, body trembling with fear and adrenaline at his threat of violence. He continues speaking, his deep, clear voice filling the space while he moves things around and gestures to a giant scroll.
Stuck like a fly in honey, you watch him pointing and talking, half listening while you try to formulate an escape route.
He comes close with a huff, pulling you gently towards his table.
It looks like a map, but it’s not like any map you’ve ever seen.
“What the fuck am I meant to be looking at here?”
He continues speaking, pointing at the map, and then gesturing outside. He points again, at a different spot and then to himself.
“Oh.. okay you’re from here?” He nods, then he takes your hand and puts it on the map, repeating his words and you can assume he’s asking you to point out where you come from.
“Dude I don’t know, this map is wild as hell and about a thousand years out of date from the looks of it.” You move your hand away but he persists, a bulldog with a bone. He takes your hand and puts it on the map, then taps your chest, asking his question once more.
“I’m not on this map!” You tap your chest, and then to the edge of the map, “I’m not here, we’re not on the map yet. Understand?” You gesture again, pointing to an empty edge, and point to yourself.
The look on his face is almost funny, he’s either really committed to his role, or this is the weirdest fucking dream you’ve ever had.
He’s quiet after that, ruminating, studying you with a critical eye and after the day you’ve had you don’t have the patience. You sit in one of the chairs, resigned to endure the ride until you find an opportunity to get off, and away as quickly as you can.
-
Tag list; @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name
300 notes · View notes
knavesflames · 2 months ago
Note
hiii el! :D u may know me from ur messages a bit ago (PLS I SUCK AT USING TECHNOLOGY AND I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO ASK A QUESTION) but i wanted to ask for u to write maybe just some like cute morning arle fluff? sorry if it’s a bad ask 😞
also, could i be 🩵 anon?
Tumblr media
Hi <3 of course you can! It is NOT a bad ask, I’ve been meaning to write a lil bit of fluff anyway. I was quite excited to write this :’) enjoy!!
Content: fluff, arlecchino is soft and tired
Word count: 1.1k
Utc <3
People say that once you get used to sleeping next to someone, it becomes impossible to sleep alone. You thought it would be the opposite. You enjoyed sleeping alone, preferred it, even. You like the space to move and roll around and you like to wrap the blankets around you to form you into a burrito-like shape. It became somewhat of a joke between friends that when you finally did find a partner, you’d end up sleeping in separate beds. Secretly, you agreed.
For Arlecchino, nobody assumed she’d even find a partner. The woman is so closed off with her feelings that one wonders if she even had any, if they died along with her best friend and Mother so many years ago. When the topic of relationships was brought up (seldom as it was to even get past the first two sentences- she would shut it down before anyone could get anything out of her), her excuses were dismissive, claims of work taking precedence over any interpersonal relationships, claims of the not-so-secret but somehow very-secret project the Fatui are working on, and her biggest excuse yet- the children. “The children need a stable figure to guide them as they grow. Relationships are most definitely not stable. It does not teach them how to fight. Sorrow and anger make you weak, yes, but I would argue that love makes you defenceless.” would be a sentence she uttered often.
Of course, that was not the only reason. Processing what had happened to the people close to her is something she neglected to do, and she does not need to be haunted further by yet another shadow, or even worse, another conscious body following her around the way Clervie had, whether as a manifestation of her bloodfire, or a manifestation of her conscience rearing its head when she had worked so hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. Love is not something she should get herself involved in, she has told herself time and time again. She has stared into the mirror an endless number of times, both as a newly appointed Father and more recently, when she finds herself alone. Her priority has always been the children, and she refused herself the privilege of living comfortably. Until you, obviously.
When you first began sleeping next to each other, you had been dating for a while. It took a while for her to even let you into her house. You seem to notice that her house has the faint smell of citrus. Lime, perhaps. You wonder where it comes from, but you assume it's some sort of air freshener. When you first began occasionally sleeping over, her touches were few and far between. Not in any malicious way, of course, but almost like she was restraining herself. You were too, in a way, not wanting to overstep any silent boundaries she had set. It was an awkward time.
Now, though, after a long period of time of getting her to open up, she clings to you like a moth to a flame. Case in point, this morning. You wake up to the soft light entering your room, filtered by the curtains covering the glass. The first thing you notice other than the light is a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around your middle, clutching you and keeping you close. You let your hand gently move across the marred skin, feeling each scar and muscle of the arm holding you so tightly. A face is buried into the back of your neck, gentle breath tickling the skin, and displacing the hair there. Arlecchino’s body is warm, warmer than the normal person's body would be due to the balefire that courses through her veins. You try (and fail) to escape from her grasp with a little wriggle, but her arms only pull you closer, her voice coming out hoarse and gravelly.
“Stay,” she mumbles into your hair. “It’s early. There isn’t a need to get ready for the day yet.”
“I have to, there’s so much to do today.” you yawn, twisting your body to face her. Your arms snake around her, one under her neck and one around her waist. There’s sleepiness in her dark eyes, and she looks up at you groggily. She looks vulnerable like this, and you think she’s almost smiling. Almost. She groans slightly as she stretches out, her muscles rippling as she does so. Arlecchino’s face buries back into you soon after, and her grip on you doesn’t loosen in the slightest. One of your hands comes to gently caress the waterfall of snow white hair, occasionally painted with black streaks (and the one red one she touches up every six weeks), massaging the scalp and gently scratching whenever she lets out a soft sigh.
“You smell good.”
“I just woke up, I’m not sure there’s much to smell.”
“That may be the point. You do not need to put on any fragrance, I enjoy the scent of you. Just you.”
“You say, as if you don’t fill your home with the scent of limes. Limes, of all things.”
“That is not what we are conversing about. We are conversing about you, not some citrus fruit.”
You can’t the small chuckle that seems to escape your lips. She’s so soft like this, you think, you can barely believe her status in the Fatui (you’d forget entirely if it wasn’t for the glint of the dagger placed deliberately on her nightstand. She says it’s for your protection- you know she had it there before, too, but now she has a reason to keep it there). Her nails, filed to perfection, trace circles on your back, and her free hand pulls your thigh over her hip, bringing you as close as you can possibly get.
“Must you go? Surely, you can push back any arrangements you have today and stay with me a little longer.”
“You know I can’t, and neither can you. Do you not have that meeting?”
“Yes. With some other Fatui, but none of them are worth my time when you’re here. They mean nothing to me. You mean everything.”
“That is why I'll be here tonight. You can hold me again.”
You find yourself reassuring her a lot that you won’t disappear. You don’t mind. Eventually, after five minutes of pretend bickering, you relent to ten more minutes before she drags herself out of bed. By the time she’s changed from her pyjamas into her usual suit, her hair brushed and pinned back into her signature ponytail, any trace of the sleepy, clingy Arlecchino is gone. What remains is a stoic, unreadable woman who lovingly kisses your forehead before she leaves, a slight plea in her voice when she tells you: “See you tonight.”
317 notes · View notes
just-jordie-things · 1 year ago
Text
let the light in - ryomen sukuna
Tumblr media
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
word count: 15.5k warnings: mentions of fighting and injuries, reader has a cursed technique but i don't describe it bc i'm lazy, she's actually pretty weak in this ngl i needed her to be a bit of a damsel in distress. sukuna is pretty out of character but he has to be. also sukuna can take control of yuji's body when he's asleep bc i decided so ok it's my first time writing for him so bare with me. summary: reincarnation!au with a twist. in every life sukuna finds you in, he has to remind you of who you once were- and who you once were to each other. it's a burden, but it's one he's carried for centuries and he wouldn't have it any other way. more info: slowburn enemies to ?? to lovers, sukuna is hopelessly in love with reader its very fun ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
[ ooh let the light in // at your back door yelling cause i wanna come in // ooh turn your light on // look at us, you and i back at it again ]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Finding her in this life was the first thing on his mind as soon as his consciousness was manifested.  Just like every era before this one, she’s always his first thought.
The second thought was- what the fuck? 
In all of his centuries walking this earth, he’d never been quite out of body like this.  As in, in a completely different body from his own.  And much to his displeasure, he’d manifested inside of some brat jujutsu sorcerer that was a bit too strong for his own good.  No worries, though, after they tracked down a few more of his cursed fingers he’d be able to take proper control and Itadori Yuji would cease to exist as soon as Sukuna regained his full strength.
So for some time, he played nice.  Or, as nice as he could, that was.  He sat back in his domain and waited.  He’d never been one with a strong sense of patience- he may have been a man once but he was a curse now- but if it meant strengthening his chances in being reunited with her sooner, then he would play the long game.  Besides, he could have some fun torturing the brat and his friends for a little while, right? No harm in some chaos and carnage along the way.  He would need good stories to tell her when they were together again, anyways.
There were times where the brat began to wonder what it was Sukuna was doing there, quietly tucked into his domain.  On the rare occasion that he didn’t rear his head into conversation with a nasty comment coming from a mouth materialized on his cheek or the back of his hand.  Times passed where Yuji would cringe awaiting Sukuna’s inevitable filth, but instead he was gifted with silence from the curse inhabiting him.  The young sorcerer could only assume that this meant he was doing something else- but what? What could he possibly occupy himself with while trapped in his own domain? Some days Yuji worried he was plotting something, but others he wondered if the King of Curses was just lost in thought.  Did he daydream?
Sukuna wouldn’t call it that, but if anyone were able to catch him in the act, they’d know it was exactly that.  All he could do with his time is imagine how he’d reunite with her in this life.  It was one of his favorite parts of each new century or so, and after hundreds of lifetimes, there were plenty of memories to keep himself occupied with.
This time he knew he’d have to outdo himself, seeing as he was in an unfamiliar body, and he could only hope that she liked this one as much as the last.  Perhaps the next time he took control of it he’d make sure everything was up to standard- he couldn’t have her rejecting him just because he was in some brat’s body this time.  On the other hand, he knew her to be more playful and experimental than he was, so maybe she’d find a change in host exciting.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
To his delight, Sukuna is reunited with the great love of his life sooner than expected.  To his great displeasure, it’s at exactly the wrong time.
He’d been irritated enough having his brat vessel tap out just because he couldn’t take on a measly little Special Grade.  Of course, he wasn’t about to appease some righteous jujutsu sorcerer’s agenda by exorcizing the curse himself.  But in the end, the curse disappointed him too, thinking that it could pick a fight with the King of Curses and come out of it alive.
Pride outweighed vengeance, and he found himself entertained with playing with the Special Grade.  Playing, because of course it’s abilities were weak compared to real jujutsu, unlike the childish display the brat had put up first.
He’s so drawn in by his play fight with the curse that he’d completely missed her- that is until he’s using his Domain Expansion, and from the corner of one of his eyes he finally notices.
While it’s a shock that he’s managed to let the great love of his life go unnoticed, she isn’t exactly… conscious.
The special grade is sliced diced and forgotten, barely even a blip in Sukuna’s memory now once he recognizes the slumped over body on a pile of rubble a few hundred feet away.  He’s delighted, ecstatic even.  The bloodthirsty grin on his face is replaced by a beam of pure thrill.  He’d previously thought it might take years to find her in this life, so to stumble across her now, after getting control of this body over a mere pest, was a real treat.
He approaches her limp body so quickly he’s practically teleported to her, and his beam begins to falter as he takes in her current state.
It’s not a matter of worry that she’s fairly beat up and knocked unconscious so hard there’s soft snores between heavy breaths, her mortal body working overtime to keep her alive at all- it was nothing a quick use of his Reverse Cursed Technique couldn’t fix.
The wince of disgust that contorts his features is directed solely at her attire.  
Crisp black button up torn open to reveal the same shade of undershirt snugly fitting her underneath, paired with pants of the same material.  He didn’t need to see the crest at the collar of her shirt to give him further context as to what she was up to in this century.
“Of course,” He utters through his snarl as he crouches down towards her, hands glowing as he promptly heals her wounds.  She doesn’t awaken, her body growing even more exhausted after being put through the technique, but her muscles do appear to relax as she slumps further into the dirty ground.  “You would be a sorcerer in this lifetime.  Idiot,” 
The cruel name falls from his lips with nothing but melted affection.  No other person on this earth would be allowed to hear him speak this way and live to tell the tale.  It was reserved only for her- and she wasn’t even awake to hear it now.
With steady hands Sukuna gathers her in his arms, trying to bend her into a more comfortable position.  She doesn’t wince or complain when bruised limbs drag across broken slabs of concrete.  If he wasn’t able to hear the steady beat of her heart, she would have easily been mistaken for dead already.
“A shitty reunion this time around, I’m afraid,” 
Sukuna sighs before he sits fully on the ground.  He’s not sure how much longer he’d be in control of this body, but any thoughts of fleeing to bring as much destruction to Tokyo is far from his mind.  He wants nothing more than to sit here with his lover and hope that she’d wake back up before he’s dragged back into his domain.
With one arm wrapped under her shoulders to keep her limp body closely tucked to him, his free hand brushes the messy strands of hair away from her resting face.  She looks peaceful, even though when she wakes she’d still carry the aches of her healed injuries.  The tips of his fingers linger over her soft cheek as he admires her.
“Just as beautiful in this life as you were in every one before it, my love,” He murmurs, so quiet that even if she were conscious enough to hear it, she probably wouldn’t have.
He only gets a few moments of peace with her before he can feel a stir from inside of him, and he can faintly make out Yuji gaining his consciousness back.  He snarls in his aggravation, wishing he could knock the brat out so he could get just a little more time with his long lost love, even if she wasn’t her usual lively self.
“Come, we have things to do” He tells her, before he pulls her closer and lifts her up.  
He makes his way out of the destroyed building with leisure, knowing that the other sorcerer, Fushiguro, would be waiting outside for a fight.  It wasn’t in his plans to end the kid’s life just yet, but with the reunion of his one true love coming prematurely, things might have to change.  Oh well, he was flexible.
She fusses in his arms upon the lift, but even with her pinching brows and twitching eyelids, she never quite wakes up.  Which was alright, they would have plenty of time to properly catch up in a bit.  Sukuna had other things to handle first.
It would be some time still before she properly met the King of Curses face to face- in this life anyways- as shortly after his departure of the ruined building, he would have to set her aside to take care of a few of the weaker level shikigamis that the Fushiguro kid sent his way.  After ripping the brat’s heart out of their shared chest, it would be a few weeks before things seemingly transitioned back to normal.
When (y/n) would finally come to in the infirmary a few hours after it all went down, Megumi would relay how the King of Curses had carried her out in his arms.  She’d give him a bitter laugh, thinking he was trying to lighten the mood after the news of the death of their friend.  But Megumi wasn’t usually very good at telling jokes, and after seeing his grave expression stay put, her face would fall.
“You’re serious?” 
Megumi nods, the thin line of his lips unwavering.
(y/n) blinks a few times as she processes it slowly.  She’s still not sure that she believes him, but she doesn’t have a reason not to either.  If Gojo had told her this she’d have rolled her eyes, and maybe called him insensitive and unserious, but why would Megumi make something like that up? 
“I don’t understand,” She tells him with a furrowed brow, and the way Megumi shrugs one shoulder unenthusiastically tells her he didn’t understand it any better than she did.  “You’re telling me he saved me?” 
“Maybe, I don’t know,” Megumi replies dryly.  He should’ve known she’d ask him questions he clearly didn’t have the answers for, so he tried to provide her with what he did know so that maybe she wouldn’t torment him with more of her own questions.  “But he brought you out, and set you down somewhere with your head propped up, and he didn’t try to attack you at all.  At least, it looked like he didn’t” 
Her tongue darts over the dryness of her bottom lip as her jaw hangs open at him.  She doesn’t bother him with more useless questions, but that doesn’t mean the whole ordeal wasn’t plaguing her mind.
Something was very strange about that behavior.  But with Yuji gone, she figured it was no use trying to decipher it all anyways.  Maybe after some time when her grief wears off into something she could live with, she could forget about it completely. 
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
With Yuji turning out to be alive and well, Sukuna’s plans shifted once more.  He’d tortured him as best he could without the ability of taking control of the body, letting his friend be turned into a transfigured human, refusing to kill the spirit that called itself Mahito- as upsetting as it was to his brat vessel, Sukuna cared very little for such trivial events.  In fact, if Yuji were to shut up about it, he probably could have forgotten completely.  He only had one goal on his mind- to return to her again.  Anything else was merely a stepping stone along the way.
Just as before, Sukuna spends most of his time in his domain without much noise.  Except this time, Yuji starts to get an inkling of what he’s doing.
“It’s unbecoming and submissive of you to pretend to be dead,” 
Sukuna taunts one day while Yuji’s working on his ‘training’ on Gojo’s couch while he invests himself with a romantic movie.  His sudden appearance was a good test to his abilities, though, as the sleeping cursed puppet on Yuji’s lap doesn’t stir.  It was safe to say that Yuji had gotten as used to sharing his body with the curse as he was going to get.
“What if your little sorcerer friends need you?” Sukuna chuckles.  He quite enjoys the image of Fushiguro and the little red-headed girl struggling to keep up with mere Second Grade curses.  
“They’re fine” Yuji replies casually, barely paying attention to the mouth on his face that wasn’t his.  The movie was just getting good, after all.
“You think they can manage to hold their own?” Sukuna scoffs at the thought.  “With half-assed cursed techniques like theirs?” 
“Fushiguro and Kugisaki are the most cutthroat people I’ve ever known.  Didn’t Fushiguro almost kick your ass?” Yuji mutters, more irritated than offended by Sukuna’s cruelty.  “You’re just lucky you haven’t had to deal with (y/l/n)” 
So is that what she was calling herself this time? Sukuna’s lips tilt into a smirk.
“She doesn’t seem like much to be afraid of,” The words themselves are harsh, but something in his tone changes.  Enough that Yuji starts to lose focus on the television.  “Last I saw her she was half dead.  If it weren’t for me, she would have been dead-dead” 
That finally catches Yuji’s full attention, and he misses the next few lines of the movie when he asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 
Sukuna’s silent, thoughtfully so, as he tries to find just the right way to play his cards.  Does he use his history with the brat’s friend as a scare tactic? Or does he keep that little fact to himself for a while longer? Either way, the longer he’s silent, the more Yuji begins to go stir crazy.
“Hey, you old curse!” He hollers suddenly, causing the cursed puppet in his lap to wake up and start to get aggressive.  Yuji heaves as the tiny thing rears a heavy punch into his gut, but it doesn’t stop him from interrogating the curse inside of him.  “What did you mean by that!?” He huffs out.
Sukuna chuckles, and just as quickly as he’d appeared on Yuuji’s cheek, he disappeared again, hiding away in his domain and entertaining himself with the sight of Yuji getting beat up by a little cursed teddy bear.
Perhaps he’d let the brat overthink for a little while longer, anxiety was a form of suffering after all, wasn’t it? At least watching the brat worry himself sick about it would provide him some amusement for the coming days.  Until the sanction of his fake death is lifted, and he could go back to his goal of being reunited with his love.  
(y/l/n).  Her new surname rings in his head as he settles in his domain and lets his mind begin to wander again.  As pretty as it was, he’d have to return it to the proper name.  His name.
Yuji is attacked by Yaga’s cursed puppet a few more times that evening, but not due to the film changing his range of emotions.  In fact, it was due to his complete lack of focus on the movie.  All he could think about was what business Sukuna could possibly have with (y/n).
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
When he makes his surprise reappearance for his friends, Yuji debates on pulling (y/n) aside and asking her about what Sukuna had mentioned.  But for all he knew, he very well could have been toying with him, and ultimately he decided to enjoy what little time he had to catch up with his friends before they dove into the Exchange Event.  It just didn’t seem worth bringing up at this time.
But for some reason, when she takes her seat as the Tokyo students begin their planning, Yuji’s compelled to sit beside her.  It’s not an odd choice, it’s not out of character for him, she is his friend after all, but he’s quite aware of the way his feet move on their own accord to carry him to the empty seat beside her.  Yuji knows his body, and he knows he wasn’t the one commanding it to do that.
It makes him gulp when he unceremoniously plops into the seat.  (y/n) gives him a look, something crossed between confusion and amusement, but she brushes it off and doesn’t say a word as she shifts her focus back to Maki.  Yuji tries to ignore it as well, a bit embarrassed about the whole display.  Was that really Sukuna? He tried to clear his mind, too, it was quite important that he took in everything Maki was saying, but his mind is wrapped up in whatever game the King of Curses was playing right now.
And finally, when he thinks he’s heard enough of the game plan for the event, he feels it.
The slit under his right eye opens, the side facing (y/n).  Yuji holds his breath, hoping that Sukuna doesn’t open his loud mouth and bark out something insulting, but he doesn’t.  His mouth never materializes.  He simply stares.
It’s almost worse.
A few minutes pass and no one seems to notice, as the attention of the room is still commanded by Maki.  Except for Yuji himself, as he’d stopped listening to her altogether while he anxiously awaited whatever was to come next.  What was he doing? He began to bounce his leg.
His throat closes up when he sees (y/n) turn her head out of the corner of his eye.  He doesn’t meet her gaze, even though she’s clearly staring at him- or Sukuna, he supposes- but she doesn’t speak up.  She’s just as silent as the curse he’s hosting.  Still, her gaze remains on the dark eye peeking out at her.  If they weren’t in a room with all of their peers, Yuji would’ve broken his ignorant demeanor by now, but something inside him tells him to keep his mouth shut.
When the group disbanded for a quick lunch before the event officially started, (y/n) remained seated while the others filtered out, and when Yuji began to stand, she stopped him.  All she’s done is reach a hand out, she barely even touches his arm, but it’s enough for him to stop in his tracks, and he stays put in his seat.
They don’t say anything until the room is empty, and even then, (y/n) chooses to speak quietly, almost under her breath.
“What the hell is going on with…” She pauses, her eyes flickering between Yuji’s and the ones below, before she raises her hand in a small gesture.  “Him?” She mumbles it so low, afraid that saying his name would be enough to summon him, even though he’s so clearly already there before her.
“I don’t-” 
Yuji starts, but before he could say anything- or think of anything to say- Sukuna’s mouth is materializing on his cheek.  It’s an unsettling feeling on its own, but Yuji always felt a certain chill on his spine whenever he’d feel that mouth forming a smile.
“Just missed lookin’ at you, sweetheart” 
Yuji’s face is sickly pale in a matter of seconds, the fear that settles over him tenses up all of his muscles, to the point they ache, and as much as he wants to remove himself (and Sukuna) from this situation, he’s frozen in place.  Too stunned to say anything, too stunned to move, he just stands there helplessly as (y/n’s) wide eyes dart between both pairs on his face.
(y/n’s) reaction comes first, the shocked expression wearing off into something else.  Yuji can’t place what it is- anger, disgust- but she loses the desire to keep the conversation quiet as reality settles over her.
“What!?” It comes out in a screech, but it’s just as quickly followed by absolute rambling.  “What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is he talking about?” She awkwardly shifts her gaze between both sets of eyes, unsure and unfamiliar with how to communicate with the both of them.
“I- I don’t-” 
Again, Yuji’s interrupted before he can come up with anything.
“We still have all the time in the world, for now you just keep your pretty little head focused on this game of yours, hm?” 
Just like that, the fanged mouth is disappearing and Yuji’s cheek is returned to it’s normal state again.
(y/n) blinks, going silent again while her face is flushing with color.  Now her eyes seem to focus on the lower, darker pair of eyes.  It’s hard to gauge what Sukuna is thinking, or feeling.  With only a narrowed set of eyes to go off of, not to mention he’s a reckless curse, he’s not a man, she doesn’t know what to make of the interaction.
But with the memory of what Megumi had told her, a dread begins to weigh down her chest.  Whatever this behavior was about, it couldn’t mean anything could.  It was unwanted attention, that was for sure.  No matter how warm her face felt, or how nervous she suddenly was just being around Yuji.
Soon enough the eyes shut too, but even though it appears it’s only her and Yuji in the room, she can still feel Sukuna’s presence.  She swallows the lump in her throat like it’s lead.
“Let’s just…” Her eyes flit away from the closed lids, meeting Yuji’s warm but worried gaze again.  She’s not sure if it’s a comfort or not that he seems just as anxious as she feels.  “Let’s just get through the Exchange Event first” She suggests.
She’s sure that this is the right choice of action.  There was simply no time to dwell on Sukuna’s out of character behavior- then again she didn’t know him, she didn’t know what was in character, he was a curse!- not with all of their peers relying on them to secure the win for the Tokyo Prefecture.
Although she couldn’t deny her head wasn’t exactly in the game during the event.  When she finds herself getting sloppy, taking hits she normally should have been able to dodge, she begins to curse the King of Curses himself.  Surely this whole thing was an act, that was what he was best at, wasn’t it? Torture? Mind games? He was probably laughing it up in his domain watching her struggle so miserably at an event she couldn’t have been more prepared for.
When shit really hit the fan and curses and curse users reared their ugly heads in the middle of a semi-light hearted game, it dawned on her just how out of it she’d really become.  Suddenly it didn’t matter how Mai shouldn’t have been able to get that shot at her shoulder- or how she should’ve seen Miwa’s Domain Expansion coming.  There was no way she was going to let a curse like him get in her head and keep her from protecting her friends and herself from a real threat.
And once this attack in the middle of their event was taken care of and the scores were settled, she’d find a way to give the King of Curses a piece of her mind.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
That time came sooner than expected, and it’s seemingly out of nowhere when he pays her a little visit.
Deep down she knows that she should be terrified when the King of Curses is at her door requesting her time for ‘a talk’ as he called it.  A thousand questions should flood her mind, and after some time they’ll begin to register, slowly and one by one, far later than it’s appropriate to ask.
He’d gotten her alone, and this should terrify her further, she should feel like a lamb in the presence of a wolf- no- curse.  But for some reason, when he enters the training room she’d been doing warm ups in, all she does is stare at him.
Sukuna knows that there’s no way she could have mistaken him for the brat, not with all of his markings, not with his vermillion eyes, not with the abundant amount of cursed energy he carried with him.  Any other mortal would straighten up, freeze in place and stare at him in utter fear as they waited for whatever fate he bestowed upon them.
Not her.
Foolishly, he believes this is due to the lifetimes they’d spent together before this one.  Even though he’s well aware of the rules of the courtship.  He recalls many meetings before this one where he’d had to open her eyes to the Binding Vow that brought her back in every lifetime.  Still, he naively held onto a hope that her lack of reaction to his presence now is because somewhere inside of her, she knows she doesn’t need to be afraid of him like the others.
(y/n’s) true feelings couldn’t have been farther from his assumptions.  It may have been a moment of poor judgment, but the moment he’d materialized at that door, irritation overrode self preservation.  It didn’t matter that the cursed energy he carried was so heavy it was palpable.  
She took one look at the King of Curses and furrowed her brows like she was a child he’d wronged, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear for her life when she’s the first to speak.
“What the fuck are you doing out?” 
Out, it’s a funny choice of word, isn’t it? Sukuna can’t help the chuckle of amusement.  Did she mean out and about, casually roaming the sacred grounds, or could she have meant out due to his control over the brat’s body? 
A frown settles on her lips when she sees he’s already enjoying himself.  She should be wondering what he’s been up to before he came here, or when exactly it was he gained control over Yuji’s body.
“And what happened to-” 
Before she could fully voice her worry for her friend, Sukuna’s waving a dismissive hand.
“The brat’s fine, not everything has to be about him, you know” He scolds her as if this was a conversation they’d had a hundred times before now.  Her frown deepens.
“Forgive me for caring more about him than a curse like you” She scoffs back at him.
How was it that in every lifetime she had to have that same bad attitude? Of course eventually she’d always settle down and warm back up to him, century and century again.  Some cases took days, others years, and Sukuna was starting to get a feeling that due to the circumstances they found themselves in this time around, this case could be the latter.  He frowns at the thought.
He found her so quickly this time, why did she have to be so stubborn? 
“Always such a brat, I can hardly tell the difference between you,” He replies.
The look of disgust on her face is washed away by mild surprise.  Both from the soft and easy cadence of his usually rough and cruel voice, and from the realization that he probably should have killed her for talking back to him the way she did.  Now she starts to wonder just how many buttons she can push before she sees the true side of the King of Curses.
Her brows pinch together as she watches him with calculations behind her eyes.  Was this all a part of the act from before? 
“How interesting could things have been if you’d swallowed the finger that day and not this brat, hm?” He muses, and he seems genuinely curious about it.  
(y/n) can barely keep up with him, trying too hard to jump to conclusions before he’s revealed them.  Then again, there might be nothing to understand at all- this was all a part of the mind games, wasn’t it? She makes a mental note to meet with Gojo about this.  Sukuna must’ve had greater plans in mind that the strongest sorcerer should be looped in on.  Even if so far… he hadn’t exactly done anything… just made her friendship with Yuji fairly awkward.
Sukuna hasn’t moved from the doorway.  Her eyes sweep over him carefully as she wonders if this is purposeful.  If his motive is to give her a false sense of safety.
“Humor me for a moment, (y/n)” 
He sounds out her name like it’s an unfamiliar word, and for the first time since he’d appeared minutes prior, there’s a familiar hollow in her chest.  At first she tags it as distress, but the way it lingers like a dull ache has her double guessing it’s cause.
“What?” 
No should’ve been what came out of her mouth- if anything needed to be said at all.  Would he let her leave if she tried? Would he punish her for it? However, despite every instinct begging to drag her in a different direction, she can’t help the intrigue she feels for him.
“What’re you doing here as a sorcerer?” He hums again with his question, eyes narrowing on her slightly as he takes account of her every reaction.
She’s holding her breath right now, it’s obvious in her tense jaw and unmoving chest.  Not even a strand of hair waves in it’s place.  Every part of her is so still, he could easily mistake it as her natural instinct to fear him as her natural predator.  He knows this isn’t the case.
She opens her mouth to protest the question at first, but just as quickly, her jaw slacks, and she’s closing it softly as she sits on it a little more thoughtfully.
“Why do you ask?” 
It irks him to have a question answered with another question.  This was another quirk of hers that she always had in the earlier stages of their reunion.  Even with the grain of irritation, Sukuna still finds himself amused in the way that she truly is the same person in every lifetime.  She may have different names, and occasionally a feature or two isn’t quite how he remembered it- and trust him, he remembered- but her soul remained pure, unfiltered, unchanging.  She was always his.
“The last we spoke, you had quite the unshakable opinion about a society that breeds and boasts of it’s powerful children to protect them, only to leave them in neglect…” He trails off, scanning her features in the search of any flash of recognition.  If anything, she’s only more confused.  Her brows are furrowed and her lips have formed a pout which he deemed as her sign of defeat in trying to understand him.  “Something about creating the things you fear.  But it was quite some time ago, and I see you’ve so clearly changed your mind” He raises a hand, palm up as he lazily gestures to her.
(y/n’s) posture straightens up, partially out of her defensive nature, but mostly due to the seriousness in his tone.  Logic tells her she shouldn’t be taking anything he says as truth, it would be foolish, and in the end probably deadly too.
But that intrigue hits her, ignites a tiny spark in her chest that has her longing to learn more.  The intensity tells her that if he weren’t this curse, that perhaps if he was just a man, she might humor him in the way he was looking for.
If she began the what if game now, she feared she’d find herself justifying her continuation of this conversation.
“You must have me confused, then” 
Her words are clear and concise without being loud.
“I haven’t confused you in any century before this one and I would never confuse you in the ones to come after,” 
She tries to hide the surprise in her expression, but she knows she fails.  Especially when Sukuna’s amusement in her reaction seems more genuine than before.  He takes a step into the room, just a single one.
“Your brat friend is fine.  He fell asleep.  We have a sort of… deal,” 
There is some comfort in his words, even if (y/n) is unsure about her trust in him, the words still hit her chest and her shoulders slowly begin to untense.  She doesn’t question him, doesn’t make any comment at all.  She supposes he’ll fill the silence eventually, and her assumption is correct.
“You and I have known each other for quite some time,” He continues.  “Long ago, you made a Binding Vow to me.  A vow that allowed your mortal body to be reborn in every lifetime, so that I may find you” 
Her brows furrow, hardly believing this to be the truth.  She’s supposed to believe a Binding Vow could hold the power to reincarnate her? A quiet scoff blows past her lips.
“Incredible,” She murmurs, but it’s clear her astonishment isn’t enthusiastic.  It’s cynical.  “What sort of entertainment do you really gain from this?” 
She asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she dares a few steps forward.  She’s not all that close to him, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter her distance from Sukuna, the radius of his danger could stretch for miles.
“You never believe me right away” He muses, his hands folding behind his back as he regards her curiously.  It makes her feel like a specimen, like a wild animal he’s just stumbled upon, but she doesn’t shrink under the intensity of his gaze.
“Would you?”
It’s not the response he’s expecting, but his eyes light up with a flicker of excitement.
“Of course not,” He answers, his lips beginning to curl into a smile.  It should send a chill down her spine, but she takes another step forward and tilts her chin up higher.  So foolish, he thinks with an air of loveliness wrapped around it, don’t you see that the mere fact I let you live for behaving like this must mean there’s some truth in my words? Instead, he tells her “Yet, you fall every time”
“I fall for the trick?” She snaps, but her intrigue remains.
“You fall for me” He clarifies, a finality in his tone that has her shutting up, albeit momentarily.
No, she must’ve been right, it was all some grand trick.  Some ridiculous, theatrical ploy he’d come up with just to deceive her.  She’s not sure of the why yet- if he wanted to kill her, couldn’t he have done it already? If he wanted to torture her, couldn’t he have chained her up by now? She’s skeptical, but she would hate to admit that some part of her, deep, deep down, considers that he may not be lying to her.
Of course he must be lying, so she tries to shove that idea down.
“And why would I do such a thing like that?” She asks, her tone bored, but the wideness in her eyes as she awaited his answer didn’t go unnoticed.  
Sukuna unfolded his hands in order to push them into the pockets of Yuji’s pants.  His grievance in wearing a sorcerer’s uniform was obvious in the unsavory curl in his lips as he briefly glanced down at himself, but his attention returned to her just as quickly.
“A Binding Vow is a double sided contract,” He reminds her.  “You entered it willingly,” He tilts his head at her as he watches her process this information, before he tells her the full truth.  “In fact, you were the one who brought the idea to me, sweetheart” 
“Don’t call me that” She mutters out quickly, not thinking twice about the consequences of scolding the King of Curses.
“It’s true,” Sukuna shrugs his shoulders with a lazy drag.  “I almost didn’t agree to it.  But you’ve always been… convincing” 
She’s not sure what he means, because the memories he’s recalling aren’t shared- if they’re real memories at all- and yet, she continues to lay her questions on thick.
“And why wouldn’t I choose to remember all of this then, hm? If I chose to be reborn, over and over, why wouldn’t I have wanted to remember?” She’s challenging him, and Sukuna’s enjoying it, even if it means that right now the distance she puts between them is further than before he’d found her due to her distrust in him.
History has repeated itself for thousands of years, but no event was as perfectly cyclical as she was to him.  Time and time again he would find her, and in every lifetime, she’d been his.
“You wanted to,” He tells her.  “The vow took a bit of a different turn than expected.  See, your soul didn’t simply leap into a pre-existing person with each reincarnate.  You were born again.  Every part of your being, physical and… otherwise, was reborn.  It actually makes it all the more difficult to find you, you know” 
“Seems like a copout” She says, her expression unamused.
“Well go on then, what else do you want to ask me?”
“I have nothing,” She lies.  “Because I’m not entertaining this any further” 
“Fine, then,” To her surprise, Sukuna actually accepts her rejection- if you could call it that.  “I’ll give the brat his body back.  But you’ll know where to find me once you start to remember” 
He leaves without a word, not even a mere wave, and it’s not until he’s gone that (y/n) wonders if she should be worried about him roaming the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, but nothing happens.
In fact it’s such a quiet night that the next morning everyone seems well rested and rejuvenated, all in good spirits and ready to take on the day.  Everyone but her.  And she can’t stop her eyes from shifting towards Yuji every thirty seconds, always double checking the slits under his eyes, as if one of these times she’d find them open and focused on her.
She can’t get the image of Sukuna lounging so casually in that training room.  It’s hard when one of her closest friends shares his face, so even when she’s not anxious about seeing that second set of eyes, her heart still skips a beat when Yuji’s eyes catch hers and he smiles politely.
Naturally, that skip in her heart was due to her nerves, and had nothing to do with the contents of her discussion with the curse inside of him.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Sukuna gives (y/n) what he believes to be an abundant amount of time to let their past settle in.  He wants her to process it all properly.  He wants her to come to her senses and realize that there were no ulterior motives in his reveal.
He still makes the occasional crude comment from Yuji’s cheek, but while they’re ever directed at her, she finds her posture straightening and her eyes trained on the skin where he’s materialized, always waiting for him to direct something her way.  He doesn’t.  He hardly even looks at her- when she’s looking, that is.  While inside of his domain and perfectly hidden by Itadori Yuji, Sukuna spends as much of his time staring at her while he can.  Some days, there’s an intensity so strong that Yuji finds himself not-so-subtly staring at her too.  Sukuna doesn’t like this- if he had things his way then no one would lay there eyes on what was his- but letting Yuji sneak glances here and there was a small price to pay in order to make sure the pair remain close enough that Sukuna’s still able to have some sense of nearness to her.
Due to this silent period on his part, (y/n) decides against bringing Gojo’s attention to the situation.  While she knows it hasn’t just disappeared, because she just knows that it will be brought up again, she hopes that enough time passes that she can learn to brush it off as nonsense spewed from a bored curse.
It nags at her, despite her best efforts, she never allows herself to forget it completely.  It crosses her mind every day, if not every minute she spends with Yuji.  The way he stood, the way he spoke, it would play on a loop in her mind until she was sure it would drive her to the point of madness.  It very well could have, already.
And one night, she decides to take the reins into her own hands, and she approaches it first.
After watching a partial movie in the common room, Megumi had long gone to bed and Nobara had crashed on a makeshift pile of blankets on the floor, (y/n) feels an anxiousness settle over her when she hears Yuji begin to snore and he, too, was just as knocked out as the rest of her friends.
She debates on it for a moment, her eyes sliding between the flickering television and the resting boy sitting beside her on the couch.  Her index finger taps at an unkept pace against her knee, and she lets as many minutes pass as she could, just to be sure Yuji truly was asleep.
Then she turned her head fully, eyes focused on that mark under his face where Sukuna’s eyes were peacefully shut.  Not sure of the inner workings on how the whole vessel thing worked, her only choice was to take a shot in the dark and hope it worked.
“I was going to tell Gojo about what you said, you know” 
Her whisper is so soft, her voice cracks and gives on certain syllables.  Even if he could hear her from in there, she wonders if he could have heard something so silently spoken.
Slowly, the eye opens, and it blinks a few times before it slides towards her.  She wonders if he sleeps in there, or if every introduction light when he leaves his domain requires an adjustment.
And then, Yuij’s stirs, and (y/n) freezes up, watching as he twitches before his eyes begin to blink awake, as well.  Fear spikes in her chest at the thought of getting caught talking to the curse inside of him while he slept.
But when his eyes fully open and an array of markings begin to paint across his features, she realizes it’s not Yuji.  It’s just his body.  There’s a certain guilt that follows her relief from this.  In no situation should she feel pleased to see Sukuna over Yuji.
“Am I supposed to be threatened by this?” He asks slowly, in a low tone of voice that she can’t decide the cause of.  Was he trying to be considerate of the sleeping sorcerer on the ground? Or was he just trying to be as menacing and mysterious as always? 
He doesn’t lift his head from where Yuji had been dozed off against the couch cushion, neck craned at an angle that couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in for the entire night, but Sukuna’s not exactly looking out for the brat’s comfort.  He could use a good crick in the neck or two.
“I don’t think there’s anything I could do to threaten you,” (y/n) replies honestly, the hush in her voice making her sound softer than she would’ve liked.  She doesn’t need him thinking she’s warming up to being in his presence, after all.  “But… would you kill me if I was?” 
“What do you think?” 
It comes out fast enough to be taken harshly, like he holds a disbelief in how idiotic she could be, but their conversation began with a whisper and it seems to be carried on that way.  A lump forms in (y/n’s) throat as she holds eye contact with the darkened vermillion ones that stare back at hers.
The deep feeling she’d buried, the one that told her maybe she trusted him whether she liked it or not, sparked and caught light, burned just a little bit brighter, caused just enough smoke for her to give some of her attention to.
If he truly wanted to kill her, he had millions of chances to do so before now.  So she concludes that his goal wasn’t to do so.  Of course, this begs the question,
“What is it that you want, Sukuna?��� 
She’s much calmer than the last time they spoke, he notices.  She’s nervous, but not tense, and not nearly as defensive.  He’s not naive, he doesn’t mistake this for trust, but he is pleased in her change in attitude.
An idle smile curls on his lips as his fixed gaze softens with familiarity.
Just like every time before now, she always, eventually, came around to him.  It was like her curiosity couldn’t keep her away, and her heart always won over her mind.
“I believe you already know the answer to that” He refrains from letting an old pet name fall from his tongue, a courtesy to her that he allows this once, just so she wouldn’t flee from her seat next to him.
She hums, letting the sort-of-answer sit on her mind for a moment.  An unknown feeling gnaws at her- or at least, a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to.
“Why?” The word ghosts off of her lips, and even with the worried knot between her brows her eyes stay set on his.  “Why does it have to be me?” 
“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Sukuna muses, his lower set of eyes rolling just slightly before he can help it.  “It doesn’t have to be you- it just is.  It’s always been you, and it always will be” 
“Because of the Binding Vow?” She questions, and he blinks at her, processing what she meant, before his brows furrow just a little bit, and he shakes his head.
“The only clause to our vow is that you will always be reborn,” His tongue runs over his teeth as he tries to bite back the amusement he feels when realization dawns on her.  “Everything after that comes from your own free will, sweetheart” 
“Don’t call me that” She snaps at him, but it’s a mumble, hardly audible, hardly threatening.  Sukuna purses his lips.
“Like I said, you were the one who came up with the contract,” He huffs.  “I would’ve never agreed to such a thing if you weren’t so persistent” 
She perks up at that little comment, and suddenly turns in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her as she faces him.  Sukuna’s barely moved at all, still slouched into the cushion in the position Yuji had fallen asleep in.  His eyes follow her movements as she sets her elbow on the top of the furniture so she could prop her head in her hand.  Her brows are drawn together again as she studies him.
“Then why tell me about it?” She blurts the question out.
“Because I’m the one burdened with the centuries of memories” He replies without missing a beat, voice dry and expression unreadable.  He’s keeping it as neutral as possible, knowing her calculating eyes would see right through any sudden change, no matter how small.
“And you are?” She asks, and then in a softer voice, finishes the thought, “Burdened?” 
Sukuna blinks, slowly, before letting his gaze wander the soft and curious look on her face.  He fights the urge to smile at the loveliness of it all- the twitch in her nose, the small pout in her lip- he’s the King of Curses and there should be no force on this earth that weakens him the way her gentle gaze focused on him does.  Even after all this time, she is his achilles heel, she is his greatest burden, and she is the only thing he could ever truly, completely, want.
“Yes,” His answer is quiet, and (y/n) lifts her head as she stares at him with her confusion.  “There exists no stronger shackles a being could trap me with the way you have,”
Her face falls, and she’s silent for a long moment.  With a dry throat and a mind too busy and overcrowded with thoughts, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say.  But that gnawing feeling was starting to make her chest ache, and the pounding of her heart in her ribcage was relentless.
“There’s no greater curse I could bear” 
She hates the way he says these things so casually, without a strain in his expression or voice.  She wonders if it’s because he’s done it so many times that it’s lost it’s value.  Perhaps to him, this was just a part of the burden that was her existence, explaining these things to her was simply a chore that needed to be completed.  She swallows a few times to ease the dryness of her throat.
“Does it get old?” 
Sukuna smiles.  It should trouble her- he knows that it unsettles Yuji- but if she feels unease it’s not shown.
“A thousand years of anything gets old,” He sighs, rolling his head over the cushion to stare up at the blank ceiling.  “And I’d hate to admit the things that never get old” 
It’s stupid.  It’s ridiculous and foolish and naive, but she smiles.
“What doesn’t get old?” She asks, her curiosity blending with a sick sense of delight as she wonders just how many sides of Sukuna there really are.
He angles his head towards her again, narrowing his gaze as his lips twisted into a small smirk.  It felt like his technique had the ability to see right through her- she wondered if he was really strong enough to do that.
“Last time we spoke, you said you wouldn’t entertain this,” He reminds her.  “What’s changed?” 
“Nothing,” She murmurs back without a moment of hesitation.  
It’s the truth, and she has no reason to falsify an answer for him.  Just as he had no reason to be so forward about their past.  Even if she hadn’t gathered much, this conversation was much different from their last, and she felt as though she would walk away with this one overwhelmed by all of this new information.  Her trust in him is precarious, and could easily be destroyed by one wrong move, but right now, she can’t see what reason she has not to take him at his word.  It’s not as if he’s asking for anything in return, it’s not as if she won’t return to her dorm for the night and likely not see or speak to him again for some time.  So, she supposed, what was the harm in entertaining the idea just a little?
“Nothing at all” She finishes the thought softly, before turning her attention back to the forgotten movie still playing across the room.  It was nearing the end, and she’d missed enough of it to barely understand what was happening on screen now, but she didn’t have any more questions for the King of Curses tonight, and he kept quiet as she watched the movie.
To her surprise, Sukuna did sit and watch the movie.  She’s not sure how much of it he actually listened or paid attention to, but it was clear that he had not given Yuji his body back, and was still very much alert and in control.
(y/n) doesn’t return to her dorm room until she finally sees Yuji asleep next to her, his face bare of any markings, and the extra eyelids under his eyes closed just as peaceful as his own.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
In the meantime, (y/n) didn’t feel so anxious around Yuji anymore, which they were both grateful for.  Yuji wasn’t sure why the sudden chance came about, but he certainly wouldn’t complain.  He was just glad to have his friend acting her usual self again.
He had no idea of the few chats she’d shared with the curse he hosted.  While Sukuna wasn’t necessarily hiding his interest in her, he wasn’t forthright with the brat either.  He didn’t need the kid interfering with what he was building on here.  It was slow moving like a trail of molasses but Sukuna was more patient than most people gave him credit for.  He could let a lot of things go.
Not this, however.
All of Gojo’s students had been sent on a seemingly standard assignment.  Odd, unexplainable disappearances had been happening in a clearing in the middle of the woods, enough so to alert jujutsu society and send a few sorcerers to the scene to investigate.
Upon arrival, there was an undeniable heaviness in the air.  The field that the group of four found themselves in didn’t stretch for miles, but it was no small clearing.  It was a strange place for a curse to settle in and lure non-sorcerers towards.  Curses often tucked themselves into hidden spots, within abandoned buildings or deep in the thick brush of the woods.  Not a clearing of grass and wild daisies.
The entire situation was odd, it didn’t sit right in anyone’s mind as they went their separate ways to scour the area for any insight on what was happening here.  It didn’t take long for something to turn up.
A curse that had to have been a First Grade, with a large, sharp toothed grin and gouged out eyes, materialized in the clearing’s center, and as soon as it clocked this evening’s prey as jujutsu sorcerers, it seemed to go into a mad state.  (y/n’s) not sure if it possesses great speed or the ability to teleport when it’s suddenly before her.  All she’s able to do in that amount of time is lift her weapon into an offensive position, she’s not even given the time to drive it forward in an attack before suddenly, she’s no longer on the ground.
She comes to mid air, just before she hits the ground and rolls a few times before her senses kick in and her hands brace themselves against the ground.  She can faintly hear her friends calling for her in their shock, but it’s distant.  Her head is spinning too fast for her to lift it to see just how far the curse had thrown her.
A few coughs erupt from her throat before she even tells her body to do so, brought on by the hit to her chest once she’s lifted herself up enough to relieve the pressure from the ground.  Her arms are trembling from the adrenaline and a few drops of blood splatter from her mouth, but once she’s sat up enough, she drags the sleeve of her uniform over her mouth to dry the blood, and she finally gets a good look at where she is.
She’s been thrown clear out of the field, and she considers herself lucky that her body hadn’t been halted by a tree, and instead tumbled to the ground.  Being thrown directly into one of the large oaks she’s surrounded by could’ve been fatal if she’d hit it just right, or at the very least she could’ve broken her ankle.  With a rushed assessment she decides nothing feels broken, and therefore she can grab her weapon and- 
Her weapon is nowhere near her.  She scrambles to her feet, her breaths heavy and irregular as she searches around the grass, looking for the large blade she’d had in her hands less than a minute ago.  
It had only been a minute, right? She hadn’t blacked out, had she?
Realizing there was no use wasting her time looking for a weapon now, she pushes herself to break into a sprint back towards the clearing.  Her friends are blurry images moving about, trying to attack the larger blurry images that fends off their attacks with little struggle.  She concludes this when she begins to hear the yelps and grunts of her fellow sorcerers, and yet the curse doesn’t seem to struggle at all.
Just when her vision begins to clear and she’s preparing herself to rejoin the fight with only her cursed technique and her fists, she sees the curse grab Megumi by the leg, and soon after he’s getting thrown into the air just as she did.  His name is torn from her raw throat in an instant- but Megumi is more prepared to be airborne than she was, drawing his hands together to summon Nue to catch him.
Relief is short lived, and soon Megumi finds himself instructing Nue to catch Nobara and Yuji when shortly after, they’re being thrown as well.  Nue’s a quick shikigami, but it’s only strong enough to carry one person at a time before it’s energy starts to deplete, and the curse keeps at it’s movements, chuckling the three of them into the air before they can land an attack on them on their decline.  Yuji tries, using Black Flash on his descent in the hopes of striking it where it hurts, but the curse manages to catch him in a tight fist before chucking him again.
(y/n’s) still keeping an eye out for her weapon when she grows nearer to the fight, seeing as no one else’s techniques have caused any real damage yet, her cursed tool of a sword could be quite handy right about now.
She was hoping that with it’s attention focused on the other three, she could attack it from behind, and drive it more towards the clearing again.  With how much movement and tossing it had done, it had driven them all deeper into the woods, which made it harder to land attacks, but had been good coverage for (y/n) to sneak up in her approach.
To her disadvantage, she hadn’t expected there to be a pair of large eyes on the back of it’s head.  In the dark of the night she hadn’t noticed them until they’d opened and landed on her instantaneously.  It must’ve sensed her sneaking around behind it.
She’s quicker in her movements this time, dodging it’s large hand before it could grab onto her, but it outsmarts her and snatches her up in the other.  A yelp sounds from her when it squeezes harder than the last time, her air supply cut off just as she’d tried to take in a large breath, making her sputter and cough as it raised her in the air again.  A sense of dread and failure washes over her when she realizes it’s going to throw her again.  Whatever this curse’s deal was, it had a thing for throwing it’s victims around to torture them.
And torture it was- as this time when she’s launched into the air, it’s a clear throw over the trees.  It’s harder than before, and faster.  The cool air cuts over her face in sharp streams, bringing tears to her eyes before she could comprehend what would come of her fall.  She could brace herself, but as she gets a watery glance at what’s below, she knows that shielding her face would provide no comfort to her fall.
Just past the cluster of oak trees is a steep overhang.  Rock and the roots of old trees jutting out some thirty feet to the ground.  
This is why her fall felt so long.  A sharp gasp escapes her, and when her inhale gets caught in her throat, she wonders if this is the last breath she’ll ever take.
When she shuts her eyes to protect them from the harsh wind, a wetness spreads down her cheeks.  In a last ditch effort at self preservation, her arms brace over her face, and she buries herself into them, not wanting to see the last thing that would break her fall.  Hopefully she wouldn’t feel it, either.
Her jaw clenched tightly as her heart began to race faster, expecting the crash to come soon.
The sensation isn’t as expected.  There is no slam against stone or cold ground that knocks the wind out of her.  Instead something’s wrapped around her middle, and out of worry that the curse had grabbed her in order to throw her again, she withdraws her head from her arms in a jolt.
It’s not the curse that’s caught her mid-fall.
It’s Sukuna.
With one arm wrapped around her back and the other around her shoulders, his large hand braces the back of her head to keep her tucked close.  They’re still falling, but the sensation feels different like this.  It’s almost as if he’s carrying her to the ground, his posture as natural as it would be if he were standing there now.
Wide, watery eyes blink up at him in astonishment when she fully registers what was happening.
“You’re alright, I’ve got you, sweetheart” 
If it weren’t for the rawness in her throat, she might’ve scolded him for the pet name, but her voice was taken away from her as soon as she’d been heaved into the sky a second time.
She doesn’t even process the way she’s gripping onto him until he lands on the ground, holding her up just a moment longer before carefully setting her on her feet.  Her hands are holding onto the sleeves of Yuji’s uniform in fists so tight her knuckles are white, and her hands are trembling.
The others are nowhere in sight, or at least, she can’t see them right now.  Her mind is so shaken up she doesn’t actually look.  Her eyes don’t tear away from the stunning red of Sukuna’s once.  She doesn’t even blink- hence the continued downpour of tears.  From the wind and her acceptance of a brutal death, her emotions were slowly catching up to reality.
Her chest is heaving but there’s no relief in feeling like she’s caught her breath.  Her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her ribs ache, but that very well could be the bruising from her previous fall setting in.  Her mouth moves but it takes a few tries for any real words to come out, and when her voice does come back to her, she doesn’t say much.
“S- Sukuna-” 
He silences her before she could even try to say something else.  Prying her hands off of his arms and placing them at her sides, even though there’s still tremors in her muscles.
“I only have a minute,” He tells her, in a gravely serious tone that she’s never heard from him before.  She blinks her wide eyes, leftover tears getting stuck on her lashes.  “It’s been handled” 
He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t get the chance to before his posture begins to weaken, followed by his eyelids twitching and the marks beginning to fade away.
Gasping, (y/n) surges forward, grabbing Yuji by the shoulders before he could stumble and fall.  His eyes roll and blink a few times before he feels in control of his body again.  Soon after his posture straightens, and then it’s Yuji who’s looking worriedly down at (y/n).
She’s close, very close.  Her hands are gripping onto his shoulders for dear life.  He can feel her panting against his chin as her worried eyes scan over his features.
Yuji’s disoriented, like maybe he’s just woken up from a dream, or maybe he’s just woken up inside of a dream, and he’s not exactly sure how to voice this concern.  She makes it harder on him when one of her hands leaves his shoulder in order to reach for his cheek.
It’s so affectionate, the way she reaches for his face and presses her palm against it, that Yuji finds his skin heating up and a blush appearing over his cheeks before he could will himself not to.  She’s never behaved this way with him before.  He could only recall casual touches that occurred during training, or maybe a brush of her fingers when she handed him something, but nothing as intentional as this.  
And she’s certainly never looked at him like that either.  He can’t place his finger on it, but it makes his stomach churn to meet her eyes.
“Uh, (y/n)?” He mumbles out her name, and he finds himself doing a quick sweep of her, assessing her for a major injury.  But she’s standing just fine, and he can’t see any blood.  This had to be a head injury, right? 
He asks himself that question once more then the pad of her thumb brushes under his eye.  She faintly traces the incision of the closed eyelid just below his eyelashes.  Yuji holds his breath, but he’s not sure who he’s doing it for.  (y/n), whose eyes are glossing over as she’s gazing at the wrong eyes, which remained closed, or Sukuna, who Yuji was sure she was trying to reach to now.
And then she leans even closer, and the breath he’d been holding is forced out of him from the closing distance between them.  Her hands remain where they are, on his shoulder with an iron grip and against his cheek with the gentleness of a butterfly landing there.
On instinct Yuji finds his eyes darting down to her lips, but he’s positive she’s not going to kiss him- right? She wouldn’t do such a thing on a whim, not like this, not now when they’ve barely completed their assignment.  Not to mention their friends aren’t too far away- where are Nobara and Megumi anyways? Yuji’s thoughts are racing as fast as his heart as he struggles to figure out what to do as she grows nearer.
Before he has to come up with a decision, (y/n) stops, and Yuji swallows the lump in his throat out of relief that she wasn’t leaning in to kiss him.  The ride home would have been so awkward.
“Thank you” She breathes out the words, her thumb stroking over the spot on his cheek one more time before she finally drops her hand, and she pulls away from Yuji completely.
He blinks at her in disbelief, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down, which it does the further she steps away.
“What happened?” He asks, louder than he means to, but when he finally collects his thoughts and processes what just happened, he can’t help but blurt out the question.
The pair begin to make their way back to the clearing, both realizing that the First Grade curse was gone, clearly exorcized with the amount of purple goo coating the surrounding plants and trees.  They don’t discuss it right away, but they both have an inkling on how it was taken care of.
“Sukuna saved my life” 
Yuji wants to ask more questions, but when he turns towards her to do so, he can tell that she’s not ready to talk about it.  Her features had hardened, and she didn’t meet his eyes as they walked.
He knows he’s put off this conversation one too many times already… but once again he finds himself biting his tongue as they catch up with their other friends.
Something tells him that he’ll have to bring it up soon, though.  Because the King of Curses wouldn’t save just anyone’s life twice- much less a sorcerer.  And he has a gut feeling that (y/n) knows more than she’s letting on.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
This time, it’s only a few days since the last assignment when (y/n) crosses paths with Sukuna again.  Well, this time around, he came to her.
She’s just slid her bookmark between the pages she’d decided to pause on tonight when there’s a knock at her door.  With a quiet huff- she was just about to go to sleep after all- but before she can call for her visitor to come in, the door slides open and he’s inviting himself right on.
“Yu-! Sukuna?” 
The initial scolding tone she takes drops as soon as she realizes he’s not who she thought.  Her voice softens around his name in a way that it shouldn’t, but that she can’t help.  She sits up a little further in her bed, brows furrowing as he slides the door shut behind him.
“You can’t just walk in here” 
“I knocked” 
“Okay well… well you have to wait for me to actually invite you in” She mumbles out, only to be met with a scoff and a humorless chuckle.  But when her frown deepens, he sighs.
“Fine, I’ll knock for longer next time” He grunts, before he begins to wander around her room.  He glances over the few things littered on her desk- a picture frame of her and her friends, an open and neglected textbook, a pair of bracelets she’d forgotten to put away- he almost forgets why he’d come in to begin with.
“Um… did you need something?” (y/n) asks after a minute of him wandering around and eyeing all of her things.
“You’re freaking out the brat,” Sukuna says casually, picking up a little porcelain cat on her shelf.  His eyes narrow as he turns the small thing around in his hands, as if trying to decipher it’s purpose.  “He won’t stop asking about you now” 
“What?” (y/n) pushes the covers off her lap, moving to the end of the bed to sit a little closer to him.  It doesn’t matter if she’s quiet, it’s only the two of them in the room, but she feels a sudden need to lower her voice anyways.  “What do you mean he’s freaking out?” 
He turns to her then, the figurine still in his hands.  The tiniest of smiles purses on her lips at how silly a tiny cat looks in his large and tattooed hands.  Despite how easily he could crush it to dust, his hold on it is gentle.
“I just thought that you should be aware, you know, that eventually you’ll have to decide if you want to explain yourself to your friends or not” 
Her stomach twists and turns into dozens of little knots.  The King of Curses was stopping by her room late into the night just for this? She shouldn’t be surprised, because she knew his motives, but still, she blinked at him with wide eyes.
“You haven’t…?” The question trails off as she shakes her head at him, unsure of how to word it just right.
“I don’t like the idea of the brat knowing all of my business,” Sukuna hums, finally setting the cat back down on her shelf.  “You’ve always had a knack for collecting useless things” He comments, and the words are harsh but his tone is nothing but amused.
“So… you think I should talk to Yuji?” She asks, and Sukuna lets his shoulders rise and fall in disinterest.
“If that’s what you want” He says, but it doesn’t feel considerate.  (y/n) frowns.
“Don’t you think he’ll be… upset?” 
“With you?” 
She nods.
“You’ve done nothing wrong.  If anything, the brat would only worry about you.  Seeing as he despises me, and all” 
“You don’t exactly make it easy to feel otherwise” (y/n) mumbles, and her words hang in the air for a few long moments.  She’s not sure if she means the insinuation behind them or if it’s just a coincidence, but she doesn’t try to backtrack to explain herself.
“Yes, well, he certainly cares more for you than he does for me.  Too much so.  Some boundaries might do you some good, you know” 
“Boundaries?”
“Yes, boundaries.  He almost kissed you” 
Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head before her brows furrow and she scoffs in disbelief.
“What? What are you even talking about?” 
Sukuna tucks his hands into his pockets, looking all the more out of place in her room at this hour.
“During your little gratitude session on your last assignment,” He says, his lips curling into a deep frown.  “You got a bit too close and his brat-mind went a bit haywire.  You don’t need to be so affectionate with him, you know.  A plain thank you would have sufficed-” 
“I wasn’t being affectionate with him,” She snaps back, and Sukuna raises a brow at the display.  “I was thanking you, asshole.  You pretty much saved my life?” She says it like she’s trying to jog his memory.  “I wasn’t trying to make a move on Yuji, and I’m sure he knew that too.  I don’t control his thoughts, he can think whatever he wants, doesn’t mean it’s happening” 
Sukuna steps closer to where she sat before bending down to match her height.  She’s still frowning, clearly annoyed with this interaction, but she had yet to ask him to leave, and he has a feeling she won’t.
“So if the brat had plucked up the nerve to make a move, you would’ve pushed him away?” He asks, and he’s smirking, almost as if he wants her to say otherwise.  Her eyes narrow, not understanding what his mind games were getting at this time.
“Politely, yes,” She answers, shaking her head at him.  “Why does this matter? Last I checked, in this lifetime, I’m not some cowering wife for you to boss around” 
Sukuna laughs at that, genuinely laughs.  He stands back up to his full height and throws his head back and cackles so loud that (y/n) can only pray Nobara doesn’t wake up from next door.  She might not need to whisper to speak with him, but the walls weren’t exactly soundproof either.
“Sweetheart, you’ve never been a cowering wife,” He tells her once his laughter died down.  “A wife, perhaps, but never some submissive weak minded mortal” He adds.
“So we have been married?” 
She asks him with such peculiarity, and it makes him chuckle again.  She sounds as though this has been the strangest thing he’s revealed thus far, and he can’t help but find humor in it.
“We have” He answers.
(y/n) shifts her position, pulling her legs towards her chest and staring up at him expectantly, waiting for a continuation that wouldn’t come.  Sukuna merely stares at her with mild confusion.
“Well?” She asks, tilting her head forward.  “Did we get married every time?” 
He smirks.
“I’ve told you that you created a Binding Vow in order to be with me across centuries of eras.  In the grand scheme of things, don’t you think marriage is a little… bleak?” 
(y/n) shrugs a shoulder, resting her arms atop her knees as she gazes back at him curiously.
“It’s bleak in this lifetime,” She murmurs back.  “Not to me, at least” 
Sukuna hums, before shaking his head.
“You never change” 
“Do I really?” She presses again.  “For the last… thousand years… am I really the same?” 
Sukuna ponders for a moment.  This was a common question of hers, and each time, he struggled to answer it.
“You really want to know?” 
She doesn’t say anything, but she pats her hand against the space on the bed next to her.  Sukuna’s gaze shifts to it momentarily, before looking back at her.  After a moment, he takes a seat.
“You are almost completely the same in every lifetime I’ve found you in,” He explains.  “You’re always stubborn, you never make it easy.  But you always… come around,” He turns to her.  “Like now” 
“You think I’m coming around?” She asks, a skeptical look in her eye that makes him smirk.  He leans forward as though the next part he shares is a grave secret.
“You never want to admit it, but you always have a soft spot for me” 
(y/n) raises a brow back at him in defiance.
“I think you’ve got that turned around,” She murmurs.  “I think the King of Curses has a soft spot for me.  And I think he’s making it everyone’s problem” 
He chuckles quietly, his gaze sweeping over the gentle features of her face.
“I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory,” He tells her, raising a hand, and gently pressing the pad of his thumb against the center of her forehead.  The sudden touch makes her freeze at first, but eventually she relaxes as the rest of his fingers lay in her hair.  “I haven’t quite figured it out yet, I don’t know how it is that you’re never able to keep your memories,” He tilts his head as he ponders it for a moment, his eyes focused on where he’s touched her head.  “But I think deep down, you know that you trust me” 
(y/n) doesn’t have a witty comeback for that one.  She’s still reeling from the warmth of his touch, and the weight of his words.  But she feels obligated to say something when his gaze met hers again.
“I never said I believed you in all this, you know” She whispers weakly.
“You don’t believe me?” He murmurs back at her, his voice a low rumble as his hand starts to fall from her head.  He doesn’t remove his touch, he lets the back of his finger trace along her temple, before slowly moving down her jaw.  Sukuna doesn’t seem displeased in her words.  If anything, he seems intrigued by them.  “You know, you almost look the same in every life, too” 
“I do?” She asks, just as his fingers fall still against her cheek.
Sukuna hums, and nods his head.
“The last I saw you, your hair was different,” He tells her.  “It was longer, to about… here,” With his free hand, he gently touches her waist, and the way she tenses doesn’t go unnoticed.  “You would wear it in all sorts of different styles.  Pretty braids and… whatever our servants would desire to do that day,” Her eyes widen at his use of the word servants, but Sukuna glides over it.  “But that was a few hundred years ago, of course.  It would all be outdated now,” He drops his hand from her waist, but the other remains against her cheek, his touch ghosting over it.  “Not that it wouldn’t still be exquisite” 
Her eyes shift between his, trying to decipher the emotion they hold.  She can’t tell if he’s amused or sorrowful.  Was he disappointed that she couldn’t remember?
“This is why I’m the one who doesn’t believe you” He murmurs after a few beats pass.
(y/n’s) brows draw together just slightly, just enough to pinch the skin between them.
“What do you mean?” She asks, her voice betraying her as it shakes just a little.
“Because you look at me like that” He says, nodding at her slightly.
(y/n) blinks, doe eyes resembling the glass of the porcelain cat he’d just been mocking.  Her lips are parted, formed in the smallest of pouts as she gazes up at him, that look unrelenting.
She tilts forward, her gaze flickering over his face leisurely, mapping out the black markings, and all the small details that make him so different from Yuji.  The way he insists on pushing the bangs out of his face, the broader jaw, the sharper canine that she only notices when he laughs or smiles- which is quite rare.  She’s admiring him so openly that Sukuna’s not sure what to do under such heavy surveillance, so he just sits there and allows her to stare.
But eventually, she sighs, and drops her legs from her chest before she crawls across her bed, moving to get under the covers again.  Sukuna remains in his spot at the end, watching her without an expression as she settles into her pillow.
“Does it disturb Yuji’s rest when you take over like this?” She asks quietly as she presses her cheek into the soft comfort of her pillow.
No, the brat’s completely dozed off, that’s why he could take over like this.  It’s what he wants to say, but he doesn’t.
“I’ll be sure it doesn’t” He says as he stands, and walks around the bed, facing the side she’s just moved to.  He crouches down to meet her eye level again, and (y/n) moves a little closer to the edge towards him.
“Okay, good,” She whispers.
She blames her exhaustion when she reaches out to him, the tips of her fingers barely prodding at the dark ink that follows the sharp curve of his jaw.  Her eyes follow it as she traces it down to his chin, almost painfully slow.  It takes every ounce of restraint for him not to lean into the touch.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Sukuna,” She murmurs, her fingers lingering on his chin, her eyes slowly meeting his.  “I… I can’t…” 
She can’t even say the words.  She hardly wants to be thinking about them.  But Sukuna knows her better than anyone who’s ever walked this earth, and he nods back at her in understanding before she could try to finish the thought.
“I’ve never expected anything of you,” He murmurs, before reaching up to pull her hand from his face, gently closing his fingers around her own as he moves it away.  “You have been the greatest love of my life whether you’re able to remember or not,” He tells her, and she listens to him with her full attention.  “And whether you believe me or not, you still will be,”
There’s the smallest of squeezes to her hand with his words, and a lump begins to build up in her throat.
“You can ask more questions another time, alright? You should get some sleep, sweetheart” 
She gives him a faint nod, her eyes already feeling too heavy to keep open when she feels her blanket being dragged over her shoulders.  Distantly, her mind registers that the King of Curses is tucking her into bed, but she’s too tired now to comment on it.
There’s another squeeze to her fingers, followed by a hesitation, and then the soft, unmistakable pair to two lips pressing against her knuckles.  It’s not a lingering kiss, and it’s featherlight, over as soon as it began, and again, (y/n) keeps her eyes shut and doesn’t say anything.
Sukuna lays her hand down against her blanket with the gentleness of maneuvering a newborn.  She hears him walking away towards her door.
“Goodnight, Sukuna” 
It’s the softest call, but it’s enough to make him pause at the door and glance back at her.  She still can’t look at him- she’s afraid she’ll burst into tears if she does, although she can’t quite explain the heavy emotion that’s bringing the tears to her eyes to begin with.
“Goodnight, my love” 
It’s murmured so quickly before he’s hastily exiting her room that she could’ve missed it altogether, but she doesn’t.  Her hand curls into her sheets as she pulls it close to her chest as she lets tonight’s conversation sink into her mind.
The truth was, she did trust him.  She did believe him.  And she was pretty sure this was the case for the entire time she’s known him.  She’s pretty sure this was unavoidable.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Everything’s blurry when she first comes to.
And everything hurts.
She tries to move, but it only results in a strangled whine being pulled from her throat as soon as she tries.
She’s on the ground.  It’s covered in rubble.  There’s glass pricking her arms- or maybe the gravel was just that sharp.  There’s a warmth pooling under the side she’s laying on.  Likely blood.
Another groan when she at least tries to get on her back in order to assess the bleeding wound on her left side, but just as she’s about to roll her body weight, she catches something in her vision.
Yuji?
He’s slumped over against a wall, and he looks no better than she feels.  Covered in bruises and blood that may or may not be his own- whatever went down was ugly.
She blinks a few times to focus her vision a little better.  She tries to call for him but her throat is raw and all that comes out is another whine.  Either way, he’s clearly passed out and wouldn’t have responded.  The fight must’ve taken everything out of him.
Oh, the fight, it slowly starts coming back to her in flashing images.  That Blood Manipulation Guy.  He was rough.  She’s not sure how they got out of it alive- she’s not sure how they got to this point at all.  Her mind’s still foggy and the only thing that’s easy to focus on is the shooting pains in her body.
That is, until there’s the sound of clicking heels and hushed, feminine voices.  (y/n) hadn’t even realized her eyes had slipped shut again until those two appeared, and she peeks her eyes open to see two girls whispering between themselves as they crouch before Yuji’s body.
They look harmless enough, no older than her, and not to mention they look anxious.  So nothing about her blurry assumptions about them triggered any warning flags.
That was, until they pulled out a bag of fingers.  Unmistakable fingers.
She needs to get up now and she knows it.  She pleads with her body to move, wishing the throbbing hot pain in her left leg would disappear just long enough for her to get to Yuji, to stop these girls from what they’re about to do.
It’s unclear how much time lapses before she notices a third figure at Yuji’s body.  A curse.  And he seems to have a few fingers of his own, too.
No, her voice cries, but it’s only in her head.  You can’t do that.
She’s never felt so weak, her fingers barely twitching against the concrete when she’s trying to tell her body to get up.  She’s sure that means none of the rest of her limbs are moving.  She’s trapped there.
Her heart is pounding, her breaths are labored, dread consumes her so completely she’d throw up if there was anything left in her stomach.
It’s tough to count just how many fingers are shoved down Yuji’s throat before the curse is clamping his large hand over his mouth and forcing his head back in order to make the unconscious boy swallow every last one.  With tears in her eyes she knows it’s more than what’s safe, and there’s a turmoil in her gut as she doesn’t know how to feel about what comes next.
With her heart pounding in her ears she can’t tell what exactly the fighting amongst the curse users and the curse himself was about, but suddenly only the cycloptic curse remains standing over Yuji’s body.  He’s grunting and growling, still pushing the boy’s head back.  (y/n) wonders if he’s swallowed all those fingers by now.
These three were idiots.  But they were idiots stronger than her, and even if she’d had the strength to stop them, it would’ve been futile.
However, now, they hardly made her list of things to be afraid of in Shibuya.
The blood that’s pooled under Yuji’s body startles her- when did that get there? But after blinking a few times to clear her sight and focus just a fraction of a bit better, she realizes it’s not human blood at all, but that awful purple essence that leaves a stench behind.
“I’ll give you one second,” Comes the familiar voice that doesn’t belong to the body it erupts from.  “Move” 
In a flash, the small crowd around him is a good ten feet back.  (y/n) could almost laugh if her throat wasn’t bloodied raw.  They chose to wake him up with all those fingers, and now they’re visibly afraid of what they summoned themselves? They truly had no idea what they were in for now.
It only takes one glance towards her before Sukuna’s suddenly before her beaten form, crouching down to assess the damages.
“Now, which one of these insolent freaks did this to you?” He asks, tilting his head as his Reverse Cursed Technique took effect over her wounds with haste.  “I’ll start there” 
“N-none of them,” She stammers out, even though it’s the truth.
For the first time, she considers that she should be afraid of Sukuna.  The other three are still trembling even from their distance, barely letting themselves breathe in his presence.
All she’s ever felt towards Sukuna is irritation, perhaps mild vexation, but mostly he just confused her.  But now, she can feel the abundant amount of cursed energy wafting off of him, and despite his history in sparing her life and taking an interest in her, she briefly wonders if this is the moment he changes his mind.
The thought passes in a matter of seconds, when a pair of hands are gently aiding her in sitting upright.  Even with his technique healing her wounds, there are still aches and pains that make her wince.  Shards of glass falling from her skin as the healing tissue forces them out, bruises that still sting when she moves too quickly before their nasty colors disappear completely.
And Sukuna regards her with an expression she’s never seen before, but it makes her heart lurch in her chest.  It’s concern.  His brows are knotted, and his eyes are scanning over her repeatedly to make sure no injury was left on her body.  This was followed by sizable hands mapping over her carefully just to double check.
She should be afraid, but she’s not.  
In fact, as soon as those vermillion eyes return to hers, all she can feel is relief.
And she doesn’t think twice before she’s darting forward on achy knees, her arms wrapping around his neck and the rest of her body colliding into his so harsh it knocks the wind out of her for a moment, but she doesn’t mind panting to catch her breath again.  She embraces Sukuna as tightly as she can, as though he’s the only savior she’s ever known, an angel painted in pure white rather than the corrupted being he truly was.
Sukuna has half a mind to grab her by the neck and remove her from him with a snarl about how her injuries were still healing, but instead he wraps an arm around her, his hand smoothing over the tattered back of her uniform.
She could only imagine what the three at the end of the corridor were thinking, watching the King of Curses embrace such a weak sorcerer.
“You understand now, don’t you sweetheart?” He asks her quietly, and she manages a small nod against his chest, before her hands tighten into fists at the red hood that lies between his shoulder blades.  “It’s been a rough night, hasn’t it?” He muses, and when (y/n) doesn’t give him a response this time, he uses his free hand to pry her face away from his shirt, hooking her chin under his finger so that she’d meet his eyes.
Rough night didn’t even begin to cover what she’d been put through, what was she supposed to say? 
“It’s alright now, my love, I’m here,” 
Those words from him shouldn’t bring her the amount of comfort that they do.  The tears in her eyes begin to drip down her cheeks.  Sukuna’s smiling as he brushes them away, and despite her better judgment, she leans into the touch, seeking out even more comfort.  He chuckles at the sight, but humors her as he cups the side of her face in his palm, cradling her head with the gentleness of holding a flower by it’s petals.
She won’t admit it, not now anyways, but she knows deep down that there is no force on this earth greater than the swell of love in her chest right now.  It’s something she’s not sure should ever be voiced, but she has a feeling that Sukuna will find a way to draw it out of her anyways.  Just as he’s made her trust him, just as he’s made her confide in him, he’s bound to find a way into drawing the confession out of her as well.
Perhaps it’s her own fault, too.  Hiding the way a part of her believed everything he’s ever said to her, hiding the way it made her feel to know that she was so loved by a force so strong and unstoppable that he’d scour the earth after every lifetime in order to find her again.
I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory, he’d said.  But I think deep down, you know that you trust me.
She stares at him now knowing all of this to be true, and Sukuna can almost see every thought in her dilated eyes, swallowed nearly whole by dark pupils as she clings to him now.
With a brush of his lips to the crown of her head, he makes her a promise that she’ll live through this horrid night yet.
She still holds onto him when he stands, and he lifts her up with ease, cradling her to his chest like she was merely a small and frightened child.  The only unease she felt now was knowing what fates were in store for the three at the end of the hall, who Sukuna had set his sights on first.
“Now, let’s take this one on together, sweetheart, shall we?” 
Her own fate was still unknown to her, but sealed in place long ago.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
[ cause i love to love to love to love you // i hate to hate to hate to hate you ]
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
xoxo ~ jordie
a/n: thinkin about writing a snippet of their past live(s) or something. i wanted to add something like that to this fic but i wanted the reader to feel unsure if they really could trust him soooo it went a diff route. idk don't hold me to it. i'm just a girl.
1K notes · View notes
bucketbueckers · 1 month ago
Text
I'D RATHER PRETEND
Tumblr media
CHAPTER NINE
tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur thelightknight21 wc: 9.9k notes: with the 1st pick in the 2025 wnba draft, the dallas wings select... the IRP masterlist, lee university! cringe i know but it's the last chapter, let me be happy. i wrote the first half of this chap before the providence game, felt like a witch once the starting lineup dropped, currently manifesting the rest of this chapter ages just as well (my ball knowledge is limited, if the game doesn't make sense just let me be delusional, i dont give a gaf). smut warning, who's surprised. fluffier than chapter 6 methinks. tried to fulfill the nice/gentle P agenda, may have fumbled the bag bc this somehow felt more filfthy? kinda short too idk lmk 😩 not proofread, i'll probably come back later to edit. sorry for yapping (no im not) but i hope you all enjoyed reading irp as much as i enjoyed writing it, thank you for sending in such sweet comments and engaging in the inbox, they were genuinely so motivating and i loved interacting w y'all 🫶 as always i hope we're rocking w this final chapter 🙂‍↕️
Tumblr media
‘The Return of Tess Kennedy’
A little over two years ago, college basketball sensation Tess Kennedy tore her ACL in the Final Four matchup between the University of Iowa Hawkeyes and the South Carolina Gamecocks. Kennedy, who’d amassed fifteen points close to the end of the third quarter, was a pivotal element to South Carolina’s game – Iowa struggled to lock her down. Kennedy stepped off wrong and collapsed on court. Many knew what had happened long before the news broke. Her recovery was far from easy, but Kennedy did the impossible and recovered just in time for the SEC championship and the March Madness tournament, where she led South Carolina to a redemption win over Iowa with a dominating 30 points. Following the win, Kennedy shared a photo of herself holding the championship trophy, one eye closed in a wink and her lips curled into a smug snarl, and captioned it, “took a year off to cut you bitches some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend tess kennedy’s back.”
Many athletes often need a long period of adjustment after returning from a serious injury. Kennedy, however, played as though that statistic did not apply to her. Kennedy played as though she had something to prove. A loud majority of fans speculated that Kennedy fought so fiercely because her girlfriend, Paige Bueckers, and the UConn Huskies had been eliminated by Iowa in the Final Four match only two days prior to the championship. A smaller few claimed Kennedy holds a grudge against Iowa for her injury – although Kennedy disputed this theory in a presser, linked here.
The simplest truth of the matter is that Kennedy did not play any sort of way for anyone but herself and her team. She proved to herself that she could come back even better from an injury that she thought would uproot her life. She played for her team, who uplifted her during recovery and gave her the tools and the support to show up and show out when the world was watching. Kennedy played the way she did because that’s just what Tess Kennedy does.
During South Carolina’s 2024 Senior Night, Kennedy announced that she would stay at South Carolina for another year of college basketball. She cited her injury as the source of her decision. She explained that there is still more recovery for her to do and that she did not feel comfortable declaring for the draft with only five games post-injury under her belt, especially since she was under a minute restriction during those games. We believe that decision is the best she could have made for herself.
Throughout the 2024-2025 regular season, Kennedy has averaged 26.2 points per game, 4.3 steals per game, 3.7 blocks per game, and 3.2 assists per game. Since her injury, she’s turned into both an offensive and defensive dual threat, leading the South Carolina offense with help from Raven Johnson, MiLaysia Fulwiley, and Te-Hina Paopao. Coach Dawn Staley describes Kennedy as “unguardable” from the perimeter and “unstoppable” from the midrange. Coach Staley also notes that Kennedy’s midrange improvements have pleasantly surprised her as Kennedy was usually a reliable three-point specialist. Coach Staley would not elaborate on where Kennedy’s sudden game adjustments have come from, but one basketball analyst noted that Kennedy’s midrange proficiency looks stunningly like girlfriend Paige Bueckers’s. This is not surprising in the slightest as Kennedy and Bueckers spent the offseason together on a joint “world-tour” that evidently included lots and lots of time in the gym.
The SEC tournament has come and gone with, you guessed it, South Carolina as the winner, having defeated Tennessee and LSU back to back. South Carolina dominated the first five rounds of the NCAA tournament. In the Final Four, they defeated UCLA in a convincing 78-71 victory. For the championship match, they’re against UConn, who is fresh off of a hard-fought Final Four victory against Notre Dame.
This is precisely the clash of the titans that basketball fans have been looking forward to since June of 2023. UConn vs. South Carolina. Bueckers vs. Kennedy. This is a rematch for the 2022 championship game wherein UConn fell short, but many are questioning South Carolina’s ability to go back to back, especially since UConn has seen tremendous growth over the past season. With a healthy Azzi Fudd and a healthy Aubrey Griffin, sharpshooters Ashlynn Shade and Allie Ziebell, energetic KK Arnold and Morgan Cheli, imposing Jana El-Alfy, transfer portal weapon Kaitlyn Chen, do-it-all field general Paige Bueckers, and Sarah Strong – no title, Sarah Strong is that girl – UConn is a fan favorite to win. With the final tipoff only an hour away, we are at the edge of our seats in anticipation. Let us know in the comments below – who are you rooting for?
-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report
Tumblr media
APRIL 6, 2025
If there’s one thing that Tess knows is true about Paige Bueckers after over a year of dating, it’s that Paige always keeps her promise.
You and me, same time next year?
Tess watches her warm up only a half court away. She’s stunning, donning a UConn sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, her hair up in her gameday braids that Tess has full intention of ruining later after her girlfriend is crowned an NCAA champion. That thought alone shouldn’t excite her as much as it does, but she can’t help herself. Paige and her team have worked incredibly hard to be here – Tess has gotten to witness that first hand. She also can’t help feeling a little smug because she was right. Kaitlyn Chen, transfer portal weapon. Freshmen Morgan Cheli and Allie Ziebell – they both needed a few games to get comfortable, but once they were hot, they were hot. And finally, Sarah fucking Strong, Paige’s freshman menace that honestly needs to declare right now because college basketball will not be safe with her on the court.
Tess has no intention of rolling over and letting them win – Paige would honestly break up with her, which would ruin the entirety of Tess’s five year plan: get drafted. Win some shit. Dunk on Paige Bueckers. Marry Paige Bueckers. Free agency. Simple and easy. But Tess also knows that UConn will be playing with something to lose, a chip to win, and that they were easily the most challenging match-up they’d faced all year with the exception of the final SEC teams. UConn defeated them at home, even after Tess dropped 20 hard fought points – they honestly just had no answer for Sarah Strong, which is becoming a recurring theme as of late.
“Oh my God, not this shit again,” Raven complains. Tess turns just in time to catch the ball that Raven had definitely aimed at her ass.
“Stop throwing balls at me!” Tess exclaims, chucking the ball back.
“Stop staring at your girlfriend!” Raven retorts. “Like, for real. It’s making me sick. Do you want me throwing up before a natty match?” Tess pauses, tapping her chin dramatically like she has to truly think about it. “I wish you’d declared last year. That way I wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this ‘when will my wife come back from war’ bullshit.”
Tess rolls her eyes. “Where’s Chloe at? I suddenly have an opening in my bridal party.”
“Wait, no!” Raven says quickly, her entire expression shifting. “You can’t kick me out of the wedding. I didn’t even know I was in it!”
“You weren’t,” Tess states bluntly, which makes Raven huff again. “Kam’s my maid of honor, obviously. Then Aliyah’s coming, Bree, Destanni, Zia. Do you think I can get A’ja there?”
Raven looks her up and down, unimpressed. “No,” she says flatly. “You’ll be marrying a Husky.”
Tess lights up. “Oh my God, I can get Stewie there. That’d be cool, too.”
“How about you pump the brakes and lock the fuck in so your girlfriend doesn’t embarass us?” Raven suggests. “Like, did that ever cross your mind?”
She shrugs sheepishly. “I’m locked in,” she says. “Go do your weird pregame rituals, sacrifice a chicken or something.”
Raven rolls her eyes, stalking away with her ball. Tess watches her try to sweet talk an assistant coach into rebounding for her and she can’t help but smile. She’ll miss Raven when she’s in the league – sure, they’ll keep in contact, but it’s different when you’re no longer a few doors down from everyone. She’ll miss all of her girls. Not Ashlyn, though. The charges may have been dropped but assault and battery and kidnapping? Is nobody the least bit concerned? Tess digresses, though. She’s gonna miss her team, especially annoying ass Raven Johnson who likes throwing shit at people.
Before she returns to her own warmups, Tess looks across the court once more. Paige is already staring at her. They share a soft, private smile – and then Paige is grabbing Sarah by the sleeve of her shirt, causing her shot to sail out of bounds as Paige points at her with a proud smile that clearly says look at my freshman! Sarah looks unbelievably confused at first, but levels Paige with a nasty side eye once she realizes that she’s been dragged in as a ploy to tease Tess. She shrugs out of Paige’s grasp to continue shooting which makes Tess laugh and Paige huff dramatically.
The both of them resume their warmups and before they know it, tip off has come around. Paige, Sarah, Azzi, Jana, and Kaitlyn are starting for UConn, whereas Raven, Chloe, Tess, Sania, and Te-Hina are starting for South Carolina. Both teams set up around Chloe and Jana to receive the opening tip, and once the referee throws the ball into the air, Jana knocks it over to the Huskies. Sarah kicks it out to Paige, who begins directing traffic as she brings the ball up court. Tess, tasked with guarding Azzi, sticks on her like glue, trying to not let her get her hands on the ball. Raven’s defense is suffocating, but Sarah gets open and Paige passes it swiftly to her. As Chloe and Sania fold in on her to prevent the shot, Sarah passes to Jana, who gets the easy layup under the bucket. Sania inbounds to Raven. She’s delayed in bringing the ball up due to Kaitlyn’s defensive pressure, and, much to Tess’s surprise, Paige is guarding her and Azzi is on Te-Hina.
Raven dribbles, directing the other four on the court while trying to keep the ball far away from Kaitlyn, but the congestion becomes too much and she passes it to Te-Hina. Azzi’s defense is relentless, too, and eventually, Te-Hina passes to Sania, who passes to Tess on the wing, and she knows she can’t get crafty. She and Paige spent the entire summer in the gym together. Paige knows her moves as well as she knows her own, which is why she keeps pressing her further and further away from the three point line and Jana angles herself to clog her lane to the bucket. The clock is winding down, so she makes the decision to squeeze past Paige, driving to the bucket, but at the last moment, she passes it behind her back to where she knows Sania is waiting. She shoots and it swishes in.
The first quarter is incredibly close. Every time South Carolina gets a defensive stop, UConn responds with one of their own. A two-point jumper is countered by a layup, Azzi and Tess go three for three. Tess steals the ball on one possession, although Chloe gives it right back as she tries to get smart on a pass. By the first media timeout, Tess has five points, two assists, and a steal, although UConn leads them 14-12. Both teams take the time to sub out and let some of the starters rest. Bree, Ashlyn, MiLaysia, and Joyce come in for Tess, Chloe, Te-Hina, and Sania respectively while KK, Aubrey, Ashlynn, and Ice enter for Kaitlyn, Sarah, Azzi, and Jana.
Once play resumes, Tess almost immediately understands the game plan. Raven guards Paige on UConn’s offensive possessions, but when South Carolina has the ball, Paige guards MiLaysia, a high scoring guard just like Tess. Depending on who is on the floor, KK or Kaitlyn defend Raven or whoever is running point for South Carolina at the time. Raven’s defense is suffocating, but most of all, exhausting – tasking someone else with guarding Raven gives Paige more opportunities to score rather than tire herself out, but her own defensive assignments are focused on shutting down South Carolina’s point producing guards. Tess was held to five points with Paige on her, shooting only two out of her five attempted shots. She wasn’t completely useless, though – she held Azzi to six points, congesting two of the four shots she took.
She sits for the rest of the first quarter. The score is up to 25-20 in UConn’s favor and all of the starters are back on the court for the second quarter. It’s hard fought, too. There’s not a lot of foul calls going either way tonight, but the lead is so slim that Tess doesn’t want to overstep on defense and give away points. At 31-24 in favor of UConn, Paige is subbed out for KK, which means Tess finally gets a bit of a breather on defense. KK is unrelenting, but Paige had played a little closer, a much tighter game as she knew Tess so well as a player. She couldn’t even be mad about that, although she did take advantage of two back-to-back threes, pushing the score to 34-30. UConn still has a slight lead, but Paige gets subbed back in. Tess knows she has to play smarter now and take better shots.
Halfway through the second quarter, Raven gets subbed out for a breather, too, and UConn immediately puts the pressure on Maddy, not used to the intensity that the UConn starters were playing with. Kaitlyn forces a turnover, sailing it high to Paige, who lays it in the basket with ease and winks at Tess as she passes her to get back on defense. In response, Tess calls for the ball and Maddy passes it to her. She doesn’t call for a screen or any sort of help as she steps back, shooting for three directly over Paige’s head. They watch it both fall in seamlessly, much to the crowd’s amusement, and Tess sticks up her fingers in an ‘L’ shape as she backpedals for defense. Paige shakes her head, amused, but at 41-38, the both of them know they need to lock back in.
The two teams trade a few more shots and stops before the end of the quarter, entering half with 47-41, UConn leading. Paige also hit a nasty buzzer beater to welcome in halftime, which sent the UConn bench and the crowd into a frenzy, but Tess doesn’t think that’s something important to note. Paige doesn’t need the ego boost and it wasn’t that cool, anyways. If Tess wanted to, she could have had a better buzzer beater.
In the locker room, Coach Staley emphasizes the need for defensive stops while the team catches their breath. Ball movement and being selective with shooting was also important – as a team, they were shooting 39% and taking far too many contested shots when there were wide open players on the wing. Tess honestly couldn’t be doing much more – she’d racked up 16 points. Joyce and Te-Hina were doing their thing too, but UConn was overwhelming. Their points were far more widespread with Aubrey, Sarah, Azzi, and Paige leading the pack. Ashlynn had two crucial three point shots, KK was critical on defense as she was forcing turnovers and fastbreak points, and Tess has never seen anyone hustle for rebounds like Morgan does. UConn was playing a cohesive game and they were struggling to respond in full.
The second half goes similar to the first, although UConn starts to make a concerted effort to break away. They’re playing with a renewed vigor and while Azzi, Paige, and Ashlynn were crucial in the first half, they start scoring a lot more points in the paint. Sarah, Jana, and Aubrey are particularly explosive and Ice holds her own when she subs in halfway through the third to give Jana a break. Defensively, they’re all restless – they’d played so conservatively in the first half while South Carolina tried to wear them out that their energy is overwhelming and is exhausting South Carolina. By the end of the third, UConn had extended the lead to 67-56. Tess is up to 26 points now, but it’s not doing enough to clear the deficit.
All of the starters are back on the floor at the beginning of the fourth for one last push, and for a while, it works. South Carolina holds out UConn and they go on a 9-0 scoring run, evening the score to 67-65 with three minutes left. Paige hits a long three, increasing the lead to five points, Azzi forces Te-Hina to turn the ball over and she sprints for the basket, although she passes behind her to Sarah for the finish, and Tess is a little too strong on her three point jumper and it bounces off the rim directly into Kaitlyn’s hands. She scores, pushing the score to 74-65. One minute, thirty seconds left.
The last bit of the game is frantic. Tess and South Carolina try to get the lead back, but UConn is unrelenting, pushing against them on every possession. Jana scores. Sania scores. Kaitlyn shoots, but Raven blocks it. Chloe scores on the fastbreak, and with twenty seconds left, the game is up to 78-69 with UConn steady in the lead. There’s no coming back from this gap and UConn has the ball. Tess thinks Paige just plans on dribbling it out, but as the clock winds down, five…four…three…two… she shoots from the perimeter, the shot clock expiring, and the last three, the nail on the head, swishes in cleanly as the crowd erupts. UConn had just won the 2025 national championship, and all Tess feels is overwhelming relief.
Confetti pours down, covering every inch of the court as all of the Huskies swarm and pile on one another. Paige’s smile is bright, beaming, and Tess swears she can see the tears streaming from afar. Then, they lock eyes, Paige in the middle of a bunch of jostling, and she has the decency to look a little sad for her, but honestly, Tess doesn’t care. She grins at her girlfriend, making a heart with her hands. The relief is palpable on Paige’s expression but Tess knows she needs the time to celebrate with her teammates, so she turns away, patting her own teammates on the back and murmuring her own congratulations.
Sania and Joyce were explosive in the paint. A vast majority of their points had come from them and Tess, but it just wasn’t enough to beat the deficit. Tess would find the stat sheet later, but she racked up 31 points – 61 in two back to back championship games wasn’t too shabby, and honestly, the 31 points feels more like an accomplishment than the win. She’s a competitor, she lives to win and loathes losing, but tonight doesn’t feel like a loss at all, despite what the box score will say. Looking back at everything she’s accomplished, she’s satisfied where she is. She’s grown as a player, as a person. She went from almost being the cause of her end in her junior year to dragging herself out of the deep end, committing to rehab, and winning the natty on the redemption match. This year, she molded herself into a better basketball player, cementing herself in the Gamecock record books – and while she doesn’t have a natty win this year, she’s not mad about it. It’s difficult to describe but at a certain point, the win just doesn’t matter anymore. It’s the journey, growing with your team, and everything you did leading up to it.
Last year, she said she has everything she’s ever wanted, and that much is still true. She has her rings, she has an excellent collegiate career, she has records that will be damn near impossible to beat until the next Tess Kennedy is recruited to South Carolina. She has the best friends in the world, the best girlfriend in the world, her knee is healed, she’s healed, and in less than two weeks, she’ll be drafted to play professionally wherever the wind takes her. The past two years have been the best and the worst time of her life but never will she ever wish that anything occurred differently. It’s all led her to this – her wins, her losses, to Paige. It’s more than she could have ever wished for.
She showers, zones out during the presser until the questions are directed at her, which she answers robotically, uncaring. When she’s out, she locates Paige in the tunnel, who scoops her up with such unadulterated glee and excitement that Tess giggles like a fucking schoolgirl. Paige is fresh, clean, and fuck it, she’s hers, and sue her if she sounds like a broken record, but she just loves her. “Congrats, baby,” Tess says into her neck, feeling Paige squeeze her around the middle before she lowers her to the ground.
“Thank you,” Paige murmurs as she presses a soft, unhurried kiss to Tess’s lips. “Promise you didn’t sell on purpose?”
Tess scoffs, shoving her away with a hand to her chest as Paige laughs, a sound that’s infectious and far too annoyingly charming. “Paige Madison. I dropped 31 on your ass and you think I sold?”
“Locked you down,” Paige says.
“Maybe romantically but not in basketball,” Tess corrects. Paige’s face brightens and Tess can’t help but lean in to kiss her again. “Congrats though, for real.” Paige’s eyes blink open, tilting her head down slightly to gaze at Tess, her expression full of lingering excitement, love, and unequivocal happiness. “You worked so hard for this. I’m proud of you, you know? 28 points, too? Who you showin’ out for?”
Paige laughs at Tess’s impression of her. “For you, always.” Tess can’t help but soften, grinning in that stupid way Paige always elicits. “We’re goin’ out,” she says. “The team, I mean. Some bar Aubrey found. You wanna come with us? You don’t gotta do nothing you don’t wanna and they’re all keepin’ it lowkey, nothin’ crazy–”
“Paige,” Tess interrupts, watching an adorable flush appear on Paige’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about me. Celebrate with your team, okay?”
“I’m always gonna worry about you,” Paige says, a little indignant. “You’re my girl. S’my job. But I want you there if you wanna be there.”
“You’re amazing, and I love you.”
Paige sighs. “Where’s the ‘but?’”
Tess rolls her eyes. “But you need to spend time with your team. Alone, without your unbelievably sexy girlfriend distracting you. You’re gonna miss them once you’re drafted. I need to chill tonight, so I’m gonna play UNO with my girls and stack +4s on Chloe to get her back for missing a layup that would have made our score look a little less pathetic.” Tess kisses the pout off of Paige’s lips. “I could convince Bree to room with Raven tonight?” she suggests intentionally.
“Okay!” Paige agrees quickly, her voice cracking, squeezing Tess’s hips once more, causing her to laugh lightly. Paige presses her lips to Tess’s forehead, the shorter of the two feeling the curve of her smirk. “I’ll see you later. Don’t fall asleep. I love you.”
Tess huffs, which makes Paige grin. She loves being on Tess’s nerves more than anything else. “I love you, too. Have fun and don’t drink anything KK gives you.”
Paige only shakes her head, their noses brushing slightly. “Not drinking. Wanna remember tonight.” Heat rises to Tess’s cheeks as she’s suddenly aware of what the night holds for them, but Paige just smiles at her, releasing her hips and squeezing her hand one last time before she disappears inside the media room for the presser. Tess exhales, shaking her head like an etch-a-sketch to fix her train of thought before she gathers herself and makes her way out to the team bus.
She slides into the seat next to Bree, placing her bag on the floor. “You’re rooming with Raven tonight,” Tess says to her.
Bree stares at her long and hard before her expression hardens. “You’re a fucking freak,” she gripes. “But you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow morning.” In lieu of a response, Tess pulls her wallet out of her pocket and hands over a $20 bill. Bree wrinkles her nose, her face going through the five stages of grief. Tess can’t even bring herself to feel ashamed as Bree takes the money. “God,” she whispers. “Freaks.”
Tess only smiles.
Tumblr media
After a couple hours of music and various games, Tess says her final goodbyes to her teammates before she heads back to her room at the end of the hall. Paige had texted her only moments before that she was on her way back to the hotel, which she took as her cue to go. Her teammates gave her knowing looks, but Tess couldn’t find it in herself to be any sort of embarrassed.
Bree had cleared out most of her stuff before they all gathered in Raven’s room for games, but Tess just makes the conscious effort to clean up a little. She knew Paige wouldn’t care. Whether or not Bree’s bed was made would be the last thing on Paige’s mind if Tess had anything to say about it. Despite that, she just wanted it to look nicer for her. Paige had just won a championship, damn it, and she deserves something a little more fitting of that.
Tess isn’t nervous, but she’s almost giddy with anticipation and excitement. The last time she and Paige saw each other was when they played each other in February. They were unable to synchronize their schedules for spring break, so Tess is reasonably going through girlfriend withdrawals. She just wants to be close to Paige – nothing inherently sexual about it, but she misses their intimacy now that they’re always hundreds of miles apart. It will be the same situation when they get drafted – Tess watched the lottery despite everyone’s recommendations not to, but they’ll have a little bit more money and freedom to make the distance work once they’re in the league. But the league is the last thing she wants to worry about right now.
She checks herself one last time in the mirror, satisfied, but she pulls off her South Carolina hoodie, shivering a little at the chill in the room, and rummages through her suitcase until she finds the white jersey tucked underneath the rest of her clothes. A large 5 is emblazoned on the front and the back, the Big East logo on the collar, just a size too big for her – she’d stolen it directly from Paige’s bag when they played each other in February and they hung out after the game, but she supposes her lie was just convincing enough because Paige genuinely thought she left it in the locker room. She pulls the hoodie over her head, not bothering to tuck it into her sleep shorts, and gives herself one last look before smiling.
A knock at the door draws her attention. Finding her resolve, she walks over and opens it, coming face to face with Paige, whose cheeks are slightly flushed from the Tampa heat. “Hey – oh.” Paige stops in her tracks immediately, her eyes wide as she takes in Tess’s attire. Her jaw hangs open slightly as she leans against the door.
Tess laughs, reaching for Paige’s hands and pulling her inside. Paige lets herself be dragged, but she remembers where they are and closes the door, setting the lock without looking away from Tess. “You like?” Tess asks, tugging on the hem of the jersey to showcase Paige’s number. She smiles at Paige, a little smug but also a little breathless. Paige isn’t sure where to look – her face, her jersey, her legs, long and lithe and bare with the exception of a pair of shorts that would otherwise be indecent. “Figured I’d try something new.”
“Do I like?” Paige repeats, sounding a little incredulous. Her voice is rough and Tess shivers, feeling the heat pool low in her belly as Paige rests her hands on her hips, her fingertips brushing the swell of her ass. She pulls Tess into her until there’s barely an inch of space in between them – Tess can feel Paige breathing against her, her breath minty and fresh, her cologne so prominent and heady in the air that Tess’s head spins. “Like doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she murmurs, her lips dragging across the line of Tess’s jaw. Tess tilts her head back, giving Paige more access as she sighs softly. Paige’s fingers bunch in the fabric of her jersey as she noses her way down her neck, pressing wet kisses to her skin. A groan builds low in the back of her throat as she pulls away, her eyes blown wide and slightly out of breath. “D’you have any idea what this does to me?”
Tess chuckles, letting Paige lead her towards the bed, trusting her to not let her fall over. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. Paige smiles at her, softening the heat of the moment. Tess can’t help the grin that covers her face as she pulls Paige on top of her, sliding her zip up UConn jacket off of her shoulders. Paige situates herself in the gap created by Tess’s outstretched legs, leaning down to finally press their lips together. Their kiss is tender, lingering, and slow; Paige is deliberate in the way her hand slips under Tess’s jersey, her fingers brushing against her skin, and Tess sighs against her. They part and the expression on Paige’s face is so soft, blissed out like she has everything she’s ever wanted right in front of her. That thought alone fills Tess with an overwhelming amount of love and appreciation that she can’t help her starstruck smile. “You played really well today,” she whispers, working her fingers against Paige’s hair tie as she loosens her braids.
Paige hums, her eyes closing when Tess’s fingers drag across her scalp. “Says you,” she retorts, her head dropping to Tess’s shoulder. Her lips find her neck again, nipping gently and soothing the bite with a pass of her tongue. “31 fuckin’ points?” Paige emphasizes her words with an emphatic groan, her hands pushing up Tess’s jersey and her fingertips just barely breaching under her bra strap. “You tryna go to Dallas?”
Tess laughs, tangling her fingers through Paige’s hair as the blonde hides her smile against her neck. “Nah. That’s all you. I’m very happy going number two.”
Paige scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause you get Cam and Rickea.”
Tess smiles knowingly, rolling her eyes. “Your hand is literally under my shirt and you wanna talk about other people right now?” Paige glances down, her brows raising and her eyes lingering on just how far the jersey is bunched up, miles upon miles of Tess’s tanned skin on display.
“Take this shit off,” she says, hands reaching for the hem of the jersey. Tess raises her arms compliantly and Paige pulls it over her head, throwing it to the side before leaning down and connecting their lips again. Tess relaxes immediately, circling her arms around Paige’s neck, drawing her in closer and closer until the space between them is negligible. Paige’s hands are warm against her bare skin. One leaves her chest to cup her jaw, her lips slowing, controlling the pace. Every motion is purposeful, deep and lingering, until Paige pulls back just enough that her nose brushes against Tess’s. “Wanna take my time with you.”
“You won,” Tess reminds her, fighting through the burn on her cheeks as Paige presses open-mouthed kisses to her neck, her jaw. “Tonight’s for you.”
“Yeah,” Paige agrees, her mind clearly elsewhere as she pulls her shirt over her head. Tess’s mouth dries instantly, her gaze unashamed as she takes in Paige’s toned figure, the definition of her abs despite the softness of her stomach. She’s equal parts sinew and grace, beautiful beyond any human measurement – Tess would never be able to put Paige’s beauty into words. She transcends language and meaning and Tess is so irrevocably in love that it should scare her; her feelings are overwhelming in the best way possible and Paige doesn’t even know the extent of it.
“Paige,” Tess tries again, her hands reaching up to push Paige’s hair out of her face.
She shakes her head, her hand returning to Tess’s jaw as she kisses her again, taking the very breath from her lungs and relishing in the sigh that she pulls from her throat. Her hand slips lower, her thumb brushing the apple of her throat while her index finger rests on her pulse point, feeling the spike in her heart rate. “Wanna take care of you,” Paige murmurs, the plea evident in her expression when she pulls away. “Want this to last, wanna feel you. Please?” She dips lower, her lips pressing against her skin, and Tess doesn’t have any choice but to let Paige have her way. She nods, her hands finding purchase on Paige’s shoulder blades as Paige descends further, her lips leaving marks over her clavicles.
Paige undresses the both of them with a deliberate slowness. Her hands roam like she’s trying to commit every inch of Tess’s body to memory, her eyes wide in wonder. Paige stares at her like it’s the first time all over again and it makes Tess shiver, feeling warmth all over. They spent the entire offseason together, late nights in hotel rooms much like this one as they travelled. They’re far from the first time, but the fact that Paige still handles her with the utmost care, respect, and devotion only makes her needier.
When they’re both bare, the first press of Paige’s skin against her own is electrifying. She draws Paige in again, connecting their lips, relishing in the soft, unhurried push and pull as Paige’s hands roam. They’re firm around her hips, her thumbs brushing the area where her thighs meet her pelvis. Then they’re trailing up, brushing against her navel, gripping her love handles and the parts of her stomach where she’s more skin than muscle. Further up, Paige’s hands splay out across the lower end of her ribcage. The amount of skin that her hands cover makes Tess ache, but Paige keeps wandering, her hands cupping her breasts, thumbs tweaking her nipples. Tess sighs at the contact and Paige immediately takes advantage of the way her jaw drops, deepening their kiss as Tess holds on to her shoulders for stability.
She can feel the flex of Paige’s muscle, see the way her shoulder blades jut out slightly – it shouldn’t excite her, but it does. She’s firm, solid, soft, and human, a paradox and a myriad of different feelings. Tess can’t help but be attracted to every single thing she does and every single thing she is. God took his time creating Paige, that much Tess was sure of; the fact that Paige is hers, for better, for worse, forever, makes her feel like she needs to be far more thankful than she already is.
Paige pulls back. Tess nearly whines at the loss of contact until she takes in the blown out and messy look on Paige’s face. Her lips are swollen, spit-slick, covered in the lingering smear of Tess’s lip gloss. “Okay?” she asks, her voice rough. The check-in is just a reminder of how much Paige loves her. It never fails to make her heart beat out of her chest.
Tess nods, her hands coming up to smooth out the baby hairs at the back of Paige’s neck, damp with sweat. “Keep going,” she requests, closing her eyes when she feels Paige kiss her cheek, her jaw, the spot under her ear that makes her shiver.
“Wanna try something with you,” she murmurs, squeezing her around the hips, and Tess blinks her eyes open to stare at her. A new, shy sort of flush creeps up her neck and Tess gives her a reassuring kiss.
“Anything,” she says, her voice soft, albeit a little breathless. “You know I trust you.”
Paige glances up, searching her eyes for any hint of falsehood. When she finds none, she leans in, kissing Tess one last time before pulling back. “Tell me to stop and I will,” she says. Tess nods again, waiting with a bated breath as Paige pulls back completely, much to her chagrin, but her hands find her knees, spreading her legs wider, slotting her own legs under and over Tess’s thighs like puzzle pieces, and – Oh. They haven’t even made full contact but her entire body burns. Paige is just as red, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Okay?” she asks again, her words sounding a little choked.
Tess nods rapidly, not trusting herself to speak, but her words spill out anyway. “Please,” she says, looping her arms around her neck again. Paige nods, too, her breath a little shaky, but she connects their lips, swallowing the greedy sound that Tess makes when their cores finally align. Her fingers dig into Paige’s shoulders, eliciting a groan from the blonde as she rolls her hips experimentally. Paige is warm against her, slick against her skin, and the brush of her clit against her own nearly makes her soul leave her body.
Her head tilts back, overcome with euphoria and pleasure, and Paige takes advantage immediately. Her lips are on her neck before she has the chance to react, sucking dark, purple marks on her skin, soothing the sting with her tongue. Tess pushes her hips into Paige’s, causing her rhythm to falter and a whine to fall from her lips. Tess really likes that sound, when Paige succumbs to the feelings and lets her hear it. “Fuck,” Paige whimpers. “That’s it.”
That sends a wave of heat directly to Tess’s core. She ruts up again, relishing in Paige’s exhaled moan, the way her elbows shake as she tries to hold herself up. Each and every roll of her hips adds to the tightening band in her stomach, threatening to snap as her pleasure builds – but it feels like she’s reached a plateau. She pushes against her a little faster, trying to chase the high, which forces more of those sounds to tumble from Paige’s mouth. The feel of her skin against hers, sticky with sweat, is intoxicating in the best way possible; the roll of her hips sets her nerves on fire; and when she glances down, her eyes honing in on where their bodies connect, Tess grips her shoulders a little tighter as she cries out, her nails leaving marks in their wake. “Paige,” she gasps, feeling Paige’s nose brush against her collarbone, licking the salt off of her skin. “Talk, please.”
“Yeah?” she asks, her voice a little broken and high-pitched as she holds out, trying to make Tess reach her peak first. The sound of her so wrecked, so destroyed makes Tess tremble beneath her. “Wanted you to – fuck, wanted you to come with me earlier,” she babbles. Tess barely registers that she means the bar. “Wanted to show you off. Tell everyone you’re mine. Wanted to kiss you in front of everyone, take you back here – fuck, Tess, right there – take you back here and show you how much I want you.”
“Keep going, please,” she begs. Tears of pleasure bead at her waterline. The brush of their cunts and the whine in Paige’s voice makes her dizzy with desire.
Paige sighs, the sound getting trapped in her throat as her lips find her ear, her ruts becoming a little more desperate. And when Tess’s hips jump up again, seeking out that pleasure, Paige’s breath catches. She leans her head against Tess’s shoulder, her body tense with the effort of trying to stay composed. “God, there you go,” she murmurs, her breath fanning against the shell of her ear. “Take it, baby, whatever you need – gonna give it to you, I promise.”
Tess whimpers, her grip tightening as she rolls her hips against Paige’s, her pleasure building and nearing the peak as she confesses, “Paige, I’m gonna–”
“That’s it,” Paige whimpers, meeting Tess’s hips with more purpose, more intensity, guiding her closer and closer. When Paige keens into her ear, her voice cracking, “Fuck, I love you – so perfect for me,” Tess falls apart completely, clutching onto Paige as her orgasm washes over her. Paige is right behind her; Tess can feel her release, her body shuddering against her own. They rock together as they ease through the aftershocks, drawing back when the sensitivity becomes too much.
Carefully, Paige extracts herself from Tess, the both of them exhaling when they disconnect. Paige rolls onto the bed next to her, her head finding home on Tess’s chest as she slings an arm across her stomach. Neither of them say anything for a while, sitting in a satisfied silence as they try to catch their breaths. It’s Tess who finally breaks the quiet when she says, “I think you ruined me.”
That makes Paige laugh, still breathless. She cocks her head, meeting Tess’s eyes. Gingerly, she wipes away the tears on her cheeks, smooths out the hair at the crown of her head. “Good,” she murmurs, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to Tess’s lips, a stark contrast from the moment prior. “Gotta trap you so you stay with me forever.”
Tess snorts, brushing her nails against Paige’s jaw and cheek gently. “Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that.” Paige hums, her fingertips tracing patterns against her ribcage as their breathing finally evens out. A few moments pass. “Are you sleeping?” Tess asks, a little shy.
“Yes,” Paige deadpans, but she turns her head again, smiling up at Tess. Her expression is soft, relaxed, blissed out. “What’s up?”
Tess can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face. “I love you,” she says simply.
Paige’s entire demeanor brightens. She tightens her grip around Tess’s middle, drawing in closer and pressing her lips to her chest, directly over her heart. “I love you, too.”
Tess tangles her fingers in Paige’s hair, smoothing out the flyaway strands near her temple. Paige smiles against her, her face tranquil, happy. In a little over a week from now, they’ll be in Brooklyn together for the 2025 draft. They’ll be selected to play in the professional league, which is everything they’ve dreamed of and more, although their dreams have expanded to include each other. Tess has everything she’s ever wanted in life – an outstanding college career, a promising future, Paige, and she can’t wait for the rest of their lives together.
Tumblr media
APRIL 14, 2025
Tess can’t believe this is her life right now.
She, her parents, and Bree and Raven are sitting at a table in the Brooklyn Academy of Music, the selected venue for the 2025 WNBA Draft. The energy in the atmosphere is electric – there’s muted chatter, excited hopefuls trying not to freak out about which team will be selecting them. Tess is a mixture of anticipation and nerves. She’s been the predicted number two draft pick for months now, only second to Paige, which she can’t even be upset by. She has a pretty good idea of where she’s going, but she can’t help being worried about dropping in the rankings – the 2025 draft class is full of young talent. She wouldn’t mind Chicago. Playing with Kam again would be amazing, and Washington isn’t bad, either. She is really interested in the Liberty, mostly because they made such a good impression on her during rehab and that’s not something she would ever forget. Unfortunately, the Liberty decided to do the worst possible thing ever and win a championship, which means they’re nowhere close to getting Tess unless they want to trade up and Tess highly doubts they’d be willing to part with their entire roster just for her.
Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige. It’s slowly becoming a recurring theme as of late, much to the chagrin of everyone around her, but she can’t help it. She sits only a table away, surrounded by Bob, Amy, Drew, Lauren, and Ryan. The happiness is evident on her face, her hair done up in a ponytail with two loose strands framing her face, and her make-up natural. The real nail on the coffin is the tailored suit she’s wearing. It’s a dark purple in color, nearly black; several buttons on the blazer are undone to reveal the sharp lines of her clavicle and the dark shades of her undershirt. A chain glimmers around her neck, rings adorning her fingers, including the rose thumb ring Tess had gifted her for their first Christmas, before they knew they loved each other. Tess is honestly too much of an overachiever – she picked the finest person in the world to be her girlfriend and now the repercussions of that are coming back to bite her in the ass.
Her stylist – well, Paige’s stylist, Brittany Hampton is the goat – did her big one, too. Brittany has her decked out in a rich, dark, glossy, blue satin dress. Much like Paige’s suit, the shade is dark enough that it almost appears black, but the blue hue sticks out, complementing her complexion perfectly. Her heels match (and most importantly, they’re tall enough that she and Paige are finally eye level). Her jewelry is minimalist, donning her signature bracelet and their charms, along with a gorgeous necklace Paige had bought her for their second Christmas together – the first as an official couple. The both of them look good, probably too good, and Tess is preparing herself to cut someone if they stare at Paige for too long.
Her family and friends try to make small talk to distract her from the looming draft, but her heart isn’t in the conversation. Her mind runs a mile a minute; she’s thinking about all of the iterations of the mock draft – honestly, she should have listened to Paige when she told her not to watch the draft lottery or get too invested in the draft talk, anyhow. She’s thinking about Paige, how she looks so gorgeous at her table; she’s thinking about how Paige’s dreams are coming true right before her and that chokes her up a little bit. Paige was a little kid once, just like her, dribbling a ball that was nearly as big as she was – now she’s here, the predicted number one pick and it just feels like everything’s coming into fruition. They’ve both worked incredibly hard for this, all of the trials and tribulations and injuries and miscommunication – they’re here, together, and Tess couldn’t dream of anything better than that.
Finally, the beginning of the draft rolls around as the WNBA commissioner, Cathy Engelbert, steps up to the podium for opening remarks. Tess motions to wipe her sweaty hands on her dress, but Bree’s gripping her wrists and pushing a small handcloth into her waiting palms. Bree knows her so well and Tess gives her a silent nod of thanks, a small smile. She doesn’t think she’s quite made her peace with the fact she’s leaving her girls behind after today. Training camps and final roster deliberations and the preseason all await, but Bree’s rubbing her shoulder and murmuring, “Soak it in, babe, we’re so proud of you,” and she thinks that maybe she’s on the right track.
Cathy leaves the podium to await the official first pick. Tess glances at Paige again, who is clearly dissociated as she tries to not look at the cameras that are obviously pointing at her. Then, she glances over, her eyes finding Tess’s. Her entire demeanor shifts and a bright smile spreads across her face. It’s scrunchy, somehow both soft and mischievous, but Tess knows her well enough by now to understand that smile is reserved for her only. KK called it her “Tess smile” which was a little ridiculous, but when Tess returns her grin, the love clear as day in her expression, she knows that KK’s observation had a little merit.
Cathy returns with the pick in hand. The entire room falls silent, waiting with a bated breath as the older woman leans into the microphone. “With the first pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft, the Dallas Wings select…Paige Bueckers, University of Connecticut.”
The room breaks into applause immediately as the tears spring to Tess’s eyes, overcome with emotion and appreciation for her girlfriend. Paige stands, embracing her parents, her siblings, and then she’s stepping towards Tess’s table, her expression so grateful and a little awestruck. Tess reminds herself that they’re in front of thousands of people, in front of prominent WNBA players and coaches as she molds herself into Paige’s arms, keeping it classy as Paige squeezes her tightly around her waist. “God, I’m so proud of you,” Tess murmurs, feeling Paige’s shoulders shake a little bit with her emotions. “I love you. Go get your jersey.”
Paige huffs out a laugh, releasing Tess as she wipes at her waterline. “I love you. See you soon,” she says, winking at her, which makes Tess chuckle, taking a seat and watching Paige make her way to the stage. Tess pulls out her phone, taking photo after photo as Paige poses with the commissioner and the Wings jersey.
Holly Rowe talks her through a couple of interview questions, her responses making the crowd aww or applaud, and soon enough, she’s returning to her table, embracing her family once more and smiling gently at Tess. Cathy returns to the podium after allowing the allotted time for the next selection.
“With the second pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft, the Los Angeles Sparks select…Tess Kennedy, University of South Carolina.”
Tess doesn’t register it at first until her family and friends are cheering, their applause loud, and Tess finally snaps back into reality as she stands with an elated, shocked laugh. She pulls Raven and Bree into her arms, her teammates whispering their congratulations before her parents pull her into bone-crushing embraces. And finally, she makes her way to Paige’s table – she was polite for Paige’s pick, but this is different now; it’s hers and after what she’s been through, she can’t find it in herself to care much for what’s proper. She throws herself into Paige’s arms, squeezing tight enough that anyone else would have complained, but Paige holds onto her with the same intensity as she murmurs, “So proud of you, baby. You and me, huh?”
Tess laughs, the sound tearful. “You and me,” she affirms, releasing her girlfriend, and she makes her way up to the podium where Cathy holds out the yellow and purple jersey to her. She takes it, her fingers trembling a little.
When she makes it down, the reporter waiting for her isn’t Holly Rowe. She’s blonde, radiant, and shorter than Tess, but Tess gets the strangest feeling like she knows her. She glances down at the lanyard around her neck, the media pass reading P. LANCASTER. Tess grins. “Tess, you were just selected number two overall for the 2025 WNBA Draft. Can you tell me what was going through your mind leading up to the pick?”
“Um, ‘don’t throw up,’” she answers honestly. Her candor makes the crowd laugh. She chuckles, feeling some of the pressure ease off of her as she gives a proper answer, the usual ‘I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I was a kid,’ and ‘I’m so grateful to be here and this is an honor that I don’t take lightly.’
The reporter talks her through a few more questions, such as how excited she is to be working with the Sparks. Between Cameron and Rickea, Tess feels like she’s in good hands, and knowing that Lynne Roberts, the new head coach, is a huge fan of three-point shooting, she feels like there’s a lot she can bring to the team. The reporter asks a fluff question about getting used to the Los Angeles heat, to which Tess jokingly responds with, “Well, I hear Dallas is hotter.” That makes a small smile appear on the reporter’s face.
“Speaking of Dallas,” she segues, which makes a knowing smile spread across Tess’s face. “Your girlfriend, Paige Bueckers, was just drafted there. The two of you met twice in national championships in college – can we expect some exciting match-ups between the two of you in the W?”
“Of course,” Tess says coyly. “We’re 1-1 on championship wins right now. I’m looking to add a couple more of those to my resume, and if that means beating my girlfriend? Even better.”
Penelope Lancaster thanks her for her time as the crowd applauds once more. Tess makes her way back to her table, smiling smugly at Paige, who rolls her eyes, but the love in her expression is hard to hide. The rest of the draft passes in a blur, as does the afterparty they’re both invited to afterwards. It’s well past midnight when they leave the club, their hair a mess from dancing and Paige’s blazer settled over Tess’s shoulders to stave off the late night chill. Paige already has an Uber called to take them back to Tess’s parents’ house and she pulls Tess into her side as they wait outside.
There’s something so magical about the night, about the energy in the atmosphere. The bass from the music reverberates and Paige sings along to whatever rap song is playing from inside, her body warm against Tess’s, and she finds that she suddenly can’t take it anymore. The overwhelming emotion in her chest, ready to burst at the seams, the sheer happiness and hope and gratitude that seeps from every pore in her body. She wraps both of her arms around Paige’s waist, resting her head over her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. Paige quiets down, a little confused, but she melts into their embrace until there’s no air left between them.
Tess doesn’t know how to put it into words – she doesn’t think she ever will. She’s so in love, even after a year together officially. There was a point in her life where she didn’t think she’d be here. She didn’t think she would be able to heal, that she would be able to play basketball again, that she would be drafted to pursue her dream professionally. She never thought romance was in the cards for her, that she would ever find someone like Paige – that she would find Paige herself; she never thought she would be in love or that someone would be in love with her, too. It’s surreal, encompassing, and call her cheesy or down bad or whatever, but she can’t wait to live life with Paige.
“You okay?” Paige asks softly, her fingers trailing up and down Tess’s back soothingly.
“I’m perfect,” Tess responds, smiling against Paige’s skin. “I just love you.”
Paige’s hand leaves her back, but it’s not long before she’s cupping Tess’s cheek and drawing her closer to her until their lips touch. It’s soft, unhurried, a promise. It’s just as electric as the first time, as warm, as perfect. Paige breaks away long enough to whisper “I love you, too,” and then she’s sweeping back in, kissing Tess with the vow of forever. When she first met Paige, almost two years ago, she’d told her that home was a feeling. Right here, wrapped up in Paige’s arms, kissing her under the streetlight as they get ready to walk into what is the beginning of their life together, Tess knows in her heart that she’s finally made it home.
Tumblr media
‘Happily Ever Draft-er’
In April of 2025, the Dallas Wings and the Los Angeles Sparks drafted Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy first and second overall. Every basketball fan knew that Bueckers and Kennedy were sure bets for the top two picks. If there was one thing that the WNBA season could promise us, it was the match-ups between Bueckers and Kennedy – they certainly came around more often than they did when Bueckers and Kennedy were in college. They sold out arenas with many fans vying to see their clash, and they did not disappoint. Each game was intense, hard fought until the very last second.
In their rookie year, Bueckers and Kennedy helped lead their teams to the playoffs, although they both fell short – the Wings lost 2-0 to the Aces, while the Sparks lost 2-1 to the Liberty. In their second year, the Wings forged ahead to the semi-finals where they lost 3-2 to the Fever whereas the Sparks were defeated by the Sun 2-0 in the first round. Their third year was the complete opposite – the Wings lost to the Valkyries 2-1 in the first round, although the Sparks lost 3-1 to the Lynx in the semi-finals.
Their fourth year, the last of their rookie contracts, was long anticipated. In the first round of the playoffs, the Wings defeated the Storm in a clean 2-0 sweep. Similarly, the Sparks sent the Dream packing 2-0. Then, in the semi-finals, the Wings plowed through the Lynx 3-2 while the Sparks dominated the Fever 3-1. The finals match that everyone had been waiting for – the Wings versus the Sparks was underway. This would be the first year that the WNBA implemented a 7 game series.
The WNBA finals were back and forth. The Sparks took home the first win, the Wings took home the second and the third, although the Sparks bounced back with the fourth and the fifth. The Wings beat the Sparks on their sixth game in an overtime thriller, tying the series 3-3 and forcing a game seven. Bueckers and Kennedy were electric on the court, averaging 30 points in the postseason, but ultimately, the Sparks won the WNBA championship.
When approached for a comment, Kennedy stated, “Well, Paige won Rookie of the Year, so I think it’s fitting that I get a ring first.” Bueckers, who was standing next to her, rolled her eyes, but she seemed smug, as though she had another trick up her sleeve. Kennedy continued, “We’re free agents, so who knows who’s winning the chip after this.”
Bueckers did, in fact, have another trick up her sleeve as it was announced early in the offseason that she and Kennedy had gotten engaged in Italy, close to Kennedy’s hometown. Bueckers shared their engagement photos on her Instagram, captioning it, “Her favorite ring of them all 💍”. Shortly after, Bueckers and Kennedy shared their free agency picks – they’d both landed with the Golden State Valkyries alongside 2026 Rookie of the Year Azzi Fudd.
We’re eagerly awaiting the tipoff for the 2029 WNBA season. Bueckers and Kennedy have been rivals for nine years, falling in love despite it all. Finally, for the first time ever, we get to witness the union of the titans rather than their clash. We get to witness a team where Bueckers and Kennedy combine their strengths, and all we have to say is good luck to the rest of the league. The Golden State Valkyries will be a name that we will be hearing for a very long time, especially now that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy have settled down in the Bay and have made San Francisco their home.
-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report
172 notes · View notes
ravenempress101 · 26 days ago
Text
💙Odds of Temptation 18+ 💙gong yoo “the salesman” imagine
Tumblr media
Okay hey everybody I’m writing again had to write about this handsome human man lord that recruiter scene got a sista a feigning 🤦🏽‍♀️ But anyways enjoy the imagine!
summary: they play a game, but is she gonna make it out alive.
⚠️REMEMBER READ AT YOUR OWN RISK⚠️ word count: 2.4k Warnings: **Dark romance** Restraints, Anxiety, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Erotophonophilia, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Dacryphillia, Sadomasochism, Deepthroating, gun and exclusive bullet play, fixation of size kink
“Oh no it’s happening again” The stream blaring in y/n’s ear from the tv her caramel face dropped into her hands.Her held breathe escaped as the news reporter continued.
Ladies and gentlemen of the press. We have found the body of the fourth victim. We are sorry to say, that it's the same person who has been found as all the other three. We apologize for your loss.”
Y/n revealed tears of the horror of the victims and that had cinnamon hair, beige frames and raven boba eyes covered in lost dreams and arctic nightmares of coming to there end. Why does this keep happening again? Blood rushing from her body, at the withered cards of the bodies of the similar deaths.
Y/n heart thump out side of her chest as the words on all the 3 cards from all different bodies. Her thoughts connected as her face soften as realization hits her.
the brown cards his hand writing tracing “neoui da-eum” your next in Korean
Pounding came over her ears as silence hung in the air. Her first instinct erupted with the bare heels clicked to the floor to the door slamming it but a strong bicep appeared at her door, her heart dropping from his
Are you okay miss?” He said concern has he found the person he always wanted. The words stuck in her throat. Strength in closing the door,the door swung open from his Zeus like strength. A grey suit korean man manifested at her eyes. A lock hung in the air.
Y/n knew it was to late. Backing up from her spot on the floor. He held his slender pointer finger his way. Y/n knew she followed his command of stop running from someone that you need in this thing called love. As what he called it.
“I guess you heard, I knew you would get the messsge”
“Please don’t hurt me, those people why,”
“Aweee sweetheart they reminded me of our game cat and mouse”
His black loafers circled your fragile body with every word that he spat with. The knees clutch at your chest at the venomous behavior he had in store for you.
“They played the game, and couldn’t keep it up but you oh you could always darling”
His orbs darkened in how his words made your body stiffen. He had you where he wanted you.
“I tried with them. There screams couldn’t compare to you, there putting up a fight couldn’t compare to you and you know why they call me the salesman?”
His bronze features inches from you. A vein popping from the side of his head and his clinched jaw he was assigned to you, you were his assignment the tears you shed for him ignited a fire in him.
“I sell people dreams and sweetheart your worst nightmare too.”
she embodied on her toes his coarse hook reached out and grabbed a fist full of hair advancing back to his hard body. He pinned his body against hers and captured his briefcase and appearing a weapon. He placed his man made bullets inside the machinery his whistle filled the room.
“Please don’t hurt me, I don’t want to play I gave it some thought it shouldn’t have to be this way”
“Eh eh eh we are not done you know you have to finish winning first, you started not giving up that easily”
He placed the machinery to her fragile temple and the clicked was sound. Y/n heart released from her soul
“Please don’t pull it again, I’m sorry I play the game I’ll p-p-play”
Her soul grasp holding on to life itself but being Alive with a demon.
Her cries fell into sobs with the last victims knowing she had no choice ending up like them. she had to play his game, a belonging sinister games made her squirm.
“There you are my darling see that wasn’t so hard”
The Korean salesman places the restraints on your small wrists. His hands found your ankles and shackled them aswell. Capturing your thick frame and dragging you toward the bedroom and casted you on the bed.
“we are going to play telephone, you repeat as I say and no stumbles”
His figure on the side of the bed. Incarcerating your thick frame manifesting on top of his built lap. His finger slips of the hem of your pants pulling them down. panties covering your wetness, His sentiment of how wet you are. guiding your pantie to your ankle and his first finger within you. A cold wiggle of him fabricated a shakey exhale and his deep and steady. He know he needed to feel you after what you did to him and his bulge could be seen cause of it.
His voice rigorous with his glare at you his eyes darkened
“"I'm always willing to go further with you…"
Anchored to the chime from his heartshappes signaling her turn to repeat. Her wetness grew as the second finger find its way inside her. His movement picked up in and out of her. Her vision was blurred and eyes rolling back slipping into her euphoria. Her soul being snatched by the devil himself smiling almost losing her.
“I-I-I-
A moan from her lucid frame.
“Mhmmm mmmm no stumbles”
Her conscious sweating as the barrel channeled to her fragile neck, her body straighten, his finger on the trigger.
“Wait wait please let me say it again”
The caramel skinned recruiter fell to her ear level and and listen in on his phrase being repetitive.
I’m always willing to go further with you”
His devilish smile appeared on his face. Your voice was like honey dripping from nectar at the command so he knew he could take it further when he wanted to. He could push you to no end.
“Such a pretty girl, see your so smart" he cooed in my ear. His eyes shine with the light over head as he pumped faster inside. Y/n could feel calloused fingers lacing her close to her high.
Once she felt a warm sensation he paused and pulled out leaving her with a void. That was his cold hearted game. No release.
Her moan of frustration barefaced and his orbs rolled from her action of desperation.
“Please I’m sorry I’ll pay you back I can’t”
Yes you are paying me back with your body, so let’s turn up the odds for every moan I’ll intensify my weapon”
His weapon casually held at your slender neck guided down the side of your curves teasing you he rubbed the weapon lower intertwining your belly button. Then the freezing metal inside your milky flesh stuffed, holding her tiny notes in at him she knew she couldn’t moan. That was her only performance of affection.
“Ride it as you speak”
Y/n nodded fastly at his mandate. Her vision started to seal off as he adjusted the gun inside her then his deep boom of the trigger of the hung in the atmosphere eyes shot wide open.
“Eye contact at all times, especially when your starring at me sweetheart oh how I miss those eyes”
His finger swiped over your ear position your damp locks behind your ear as observe your tear stained face. He wanted to lick your face cleaned but he had to control himself as he controlled yourself he erupted his stubble on your lips kissing harshly his tongue attacked inside, his remorse of pulling back teasing the love that he keeps scarce.
"I need you more than I need air to breathe” he snapped y/n forcefully follow right behind him. She repeated flawlessly at the phrase being giving to her she could feel his length grow warmth but the barrel she bounce up and down on made her shiver with pain. she looked so hopeless acknowledgment of your life was in his hands.
good darling, your doing good”
Y/n agreed, she felt herself get dripping from the weapon. Panicking filled her built. her high didn’t rush in on her. Her perspective fell low at the handsome salesman sinful gaze and her protesting “I promise I didn’t, please don’t kill me”
His tan hand to her chin Raising and laughs fell upon him eating off your thoughts manifesting on how scared she was he then unbuckled his pants and lifted her slightly and freeing his self position himself at your warm entrance sat her back down as all his length disappeared inside her. She chocked on how is pre cum came in contact with her.
“Oh honey I know, these little bullets holds something special in them like me”
Y/n shifted a tiny letting out air, a whimper she looked down and he was covered in white already. The bullets held his little substance from him and exploded inside covering her blood-warm walls.
“Y/n you made me so furious leaving such a secrete trail finding my way back to you darling this is all I wanted your warmth you carry is like a addiction”
His thrusts manifested rapidly. Your Cinnamon frame against his cock drifting himself inside. A groan from him watching your body approach his length harder. Fucking his strokes rough and unforgiving. He wanted you to feel every frustration he had. A scream came from her slamming you down curving his length repeatedly your body trying to find resistance toward his hard movement.
“I’m sorry for not keeping my word, you sold me a dream and this is how it should be with a life of how you sale me a dream beside you”
Your distressed frame from his attack. His heartshappes on the side of the shaft of your neck as he kisses hungrily..
The machinery lowered with a boom guiding with the floor.
His massive arms captures you closer as your nipples are hard on his bare abs. He takes his teeth and caresses it over your weak spot.he takes your flesh in between his teeth and bites slightly his name filled his ears.
His length becoming monstrous and powerful richocheting up and down. Y/n fidgeting of the sensitivity her walls closing in on him.
The Korean salesman His tongue slips past his lips and saturates his saliva over the soft spot and making there way to her breasts. His suckling tracing shapes at the nipple of her erect right orb.
Lastly, a flesh deepen kiss guided toward your left flicking your boob and bouncing it back in place.
A acceleration getting more sloppy y/n moaned for the 45 year old man under her.
“I’m gonna cumm ahhh”
Lusted filled eyelashes toward her thick built.
“Cum for daddy you earned it”
He grinded in y/n”s flower as he felt her contracted around his throbbing member. Her euphoria was sending for her as her mind clouded with the sweat filled lucid sounds the salesman made pounded. you were close and so was he. Your body started shaking, getting lost in his thrusts, his lowly breaths picking up. Drilling her last insanity out of her.
Y/n could feel her ecstasy imminent to her core. She endured a few more rough digs. His cinnamon pointer finger and index finger on her neck enclose restriction from her inhale. As he talks you through your high did one more thrust and stayed in you he felt his high laced his board frame and then his robes of cum in your love box while booming a curse. y/n felt her hole fill with his warm sperm. your eyes gloomy and your facial expression of your mouth in awe tears stained cheeks as her oragasm shed on his mandhood.
She screamed as her ecstasy washed over. He knew his job was done. There breathing erotic.
“I’ll always protect you if you play the game”
His final breathes behind his statement
Y/n nodded leaving with her body with her soul still on earth by a man with a grey suit that shows her a different form of protection from death.
131 notes · View notes
power-handmaiden · 3 months ago
Text
Day 302: Eaten Right By The Physical Manifestation Of My Pride And Excitement That The Lead Character Of My First Traditionally Published Horror Novel Is On The Autism Spectrum Just Like Me
First off, this is another tingler I can link you to! I wouldn't call it a "free" tingler like some others because Dr. Tingle is asking for a donation to the Autistic Self Advocacy Network on this one. (They're a great organization that does great work, you should follow the donation link if you're able!)
I want to first mention something Dr. Tingle says in his notes on this one, not something in the tingler itself: "most of the characters i write are probably a little on the spectrum because they are comin from inside chucks head."  So... having read almost every tingler up to the beginning of 2023 now, this is something I've thought about a lot but only remarked upon a couple times. It's something that becomes even clearer to me when we get an explicitly autistic tingler protagonist because, in the context of tinglers, she fits right in. She's a very normal protagonist. That isn't the vibe of  most autistic characters in most media, but in the Tingleverse, she's your regular relatable main character. Simply seeing how much she fits in reminds me just how neurodivergent the beautiful Tingleverse is.
(Maybe a neurotypical reader would find other tingler characters' autistic traits easier to see on their own, not by comparison like this, and also worth mentioning more often? I don't know. I don't know if there are even any neurotypical people out there reading this many tinglers. Don't ask me, I'm the guy who delights in updating their tingler spreadsheet.)
Anyway, it really complements the message of this tingler, the way the protagonist feels so right as a part of the Tingleverse. It's natural that she feels proud, despite all the anxieties she has over the publication of her novel. I'm glad Dr. Tingle captured this joyous moment, in this story that also makes readers who relate feel like we're taking part in the celebration, too.
216 notes · View notes
iamquiantrelle · 4 days ago
Text
SO INTO YOU ────── iamquaintrelle
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕) # wc: 5.9k
# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro
# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist
You were never drinking tequila again. Ever.
The tequila bottle sat empty on your coffee table like evidence from a crime scene, mocking you with memories of last night's social media bravery. Your Grammy awards caught the morning light, their gold surfaces throwing judgmental sparkles across your living room walls. You'd really done it this time - slid into Aurélien Tchouaméni's DMs like your verified check mark gave you the right to disturb his peace at 2 AM.
Your manager Carmen sat in the armchair across from you, tablet in hand as she went through tomorrow's flight details to Madrid. But your attention kept drifting to your phone, to that cursed Instagram conversation where you'd actually typed out "hey, random question but would you maybe want to be in my music video? no pressure lol" - asking him to star in your video for "So Into You," a song that lived in that dangerous space between confession and plausible deniability.
“Earth to lovergirl,” Carmen's professional tone carried just a hint of amusement. “You good? Or still having flashbacks to drunk-texting one of football's finest?”
His response still sat there in your DMs, casual as anything: “The song that's breaking records? I'd be down. Though I have to ask - any particular reason you thought of me? 😉”
You'd screamed into three different pillows after reading that.
“I still can't believe he said yes,” you mumbled, sinking deeper into the couch as Carmen scrolled through your embarrassing Instagram activity history with restrained glee. The evidence was damning: every single post liked within seconds, story reactions that probably made you look unhinged, the way you'd set notifications for his account months ago after that first video blessed your FYP.
It had been innocent enough at first - a clip of him in a post-match interview, fresh taper fade catching the stadium lights. Something about the way he carried himself, that quiet confidence wrapped in genuine humility, had you hitting that follow button before the video even finished. The way he'd laugh with his whole chest in interviews, how he could switch from intense focus on the field to the sweetest smile off it - you were gone before you even realized you were falling.
Your best friend had watched your descent with barely contained amusement. “Not you making a whole Tumblr shrine," she'd cackled one wine night, scrolling through @tchouamenithoughts. “Day 43 of manifesting Aurélien Tchouaméni to ruin my life’? Girl...”
“Listen,” you groaned now, watching Carmen pull up the same account on her phone, “we all cope differently.”
“Cope? You wrote a whole chart-topping song about how he 'controls the game like he could control your heart.' That's not coping, that's down catastrophic,” she said, maintaining her composure even as her eyes danced with mirth.
She wasn't wrong. You'd lost hours to The Bridge episodes, team interviews, even compilation videos of his best plays. You'd lost count of how many times you'd woken up hot and bothered from dreams featuring that TCHM chain of his dangling above you, his knowing smile as he– nope. Not going there. Not when you were about to meet him in person.
Your phone lit up with a text from an unknown Spanish number:
“Looking forward to finally meeting tomorrow. Been keeping those 2AM DMs for motivation during training 😊 - AT”
“Oh my god,” you breathed, showing Carmen the screen. “He saved the messages.”
“Of course he did,” she said, checking something on her tablet. “You really think he didn't notice how you watch every single one of his Instagram lives? Even the 3 AM ones after matches where he's just vibing to Afrobeats in his gym? Those thirst traps?”
The way he moved to those beats had no business living rent-free in your head like it did. Neither did the way his eyes got soft when he talked about his family in interviews, or how that dangerous half-smirk would appear after a particularly clean tackle. You'd documented it all on your Tumblr, built whole theories around his personality based on how he interacted with teammates, analyzed every public appearance like it was your job.
“What if he found it?" The thought hit you suddenly. “The Tumblr account?”
Carmen's composed expression cracked slightly with a knowing smile. “Girl, if he has, he still said yes to the video. What does that tell you?”
You didn't want to think about what that might mean. Couldn't let yourself hope that maybe he'd noticed you too, that perhaps those quick likes on your Instagram stories weren't just courtesy, that the way he'd immediately responded to your drunk DM meant something.
Tomorrow you'd be in Madrid. Tomorrow you'd see if that confidence you'd analyzed in countless videos translated in person, if his smile was really as dangerous as it seemed through a screen.
“Make sure you pack some lingerie,” Carmen said as she gathered her things, a slight smirk playing at her lips. “Just in case those Tumblr manifestations worked.”
You buried your face in a throw pillow, but your heart was already racing at the possibility.
**************************************************
The Madrid morning sun painted the makeup room in ethereal hues, casting everything in a dreamlike glow that did nothing to settle your nerves. You sat still as the artist perfected your look - soft glam that highlighted your warm brown skin, each baby hair laid with precision, curls falling in a carefully crafted cascade. The "effortlessly gorgeous" aesthetic you'd aimed for had, ironically, required a 5 AM start.
“He's here,” your assistant's voice cut through your reverie, and your heart performed a gymnastics routine worthy of Olympic qualification.
Here's the thing about Aurélien Tchouaméni - all the 4K footage in the world, every professional photograph, every high-definition broadcast couldn't capture what he was in person. The way he commanded space wasn't something a camera could translate.
He had to duck slightly entering the room (had he always been that tall?), the morning light catching him like it knew exactly what it was doing. The fitted white tee and designer jeans he wore were deceptively simple, the kind of casual that required serious thought. That signature "TCHM" pendant caught the light as he moved, the diamond Cuban link chain you'd written dissertations about on Tumblr proving worthy of every analysis. You'd watched enough matches to know his height, studied enough footage to know his build, but something about him actually being there, all 6'2" of him absolutely dominating the space, had your carefully constructed composure threatening to crumble.
“So," he said, that dangerous half-smile playing at his lips as he approached, “you're the one who slid in my DMs at 2 AM?”
The ground could swallow you whole any minute now. His French accent in person was a weapon that should be classified as illegal. “Listen, about that–“
“Nah, don't apologize," he laughed, the sound rich enough to drown in. "It was cute. Especially that part about my ball control being 'unfairly hot.'”
"Please tell me you're joking," you groaned, but you couldn't help smiling. His presence was magnetic - that quiet confidence you'd analyzed through screens somehow even more potent in the flesh.
"Three fire emojis and everything," he grinned, and you noticed his taper fade was fresh, clearly done for the shoot. The chain caught the light again as he leaned slightly closer, shortening the considerable distance between you. "But for what it's worth? Your voice is unfairly hot too.”
Your cognitive functions ceased entirely. The proximity brought his cologne into focus - something expensive and intoxicating that absolutely wasn't helping your ability to form coherent thoughts. The height difference hit differently in person, requiring you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.
“Five minutes to places!” the director's call pierced through your haze, saving you from having to remember basic language skills.
The shoot itself was a study in sweet torture. For the first time in your career, you found yourself flubbing takes - missing cues, getting lost in moments. You, who prided yourself on one-take perfection, needed multiple runs at the simplest scenes. But how could you focus when he kept looking at you like that? The way his eyes would drift slowly down your body between setups, how his hands would rub together - a tell you'd seen in dozens of post-match interviews when something particularly caught his interest. But then again, Aurélien was known for giving everything his complete attention. You'd watched enough footage to know that.
He played his role perfectly - too perfectly, really. Each take had him hitting his marks with the same precision he showed on the field, but there was something else there. Something in the way his hand would linger just a moment too long when helping you up, how his eyes would catch yours in the monitor playback.
“Last setup!” the director announced, and you silently thanked whatever higher power was listening. Your heart could only take so much.
“So," Aurélien said during the lighting adjustment, his voice dropping to a register that did dangerous things to your pussy. “Since you're such a football fan now... maybe you'd want to come to my match this weekend? VIP seats?”
Your heart stuttered. “Yeah? What if someone recognizes me?”
"Let them," he smiled, and that chain glinted again as he shifted closer. "Maybe I want people to know, especially about that DM.”
You couldn't help laughing despite your burning cheeks. "You're never letting that go, are you?”
"Never," he agreed, then added more softly: "But I'm glad you sent it. Been trying to figure out how to slide in your DMs too, especially after seeing all those likes on my gym posts.”
You looked up at him (way up - seriously, the height difference was doing things to you), catching that dangerous glint in his eye. “Oh….”
"Front row seats," he continued, voice dropping lower. "Right behind the bench. That way I'll know exactly where to look after I score.”
Your heart did another full gymnastic routine. “Pretty confident about that goal, huh?”
"I'm confident about a lot of things," he smiled, and that chain caught the light once more as he leaned down slightly. “Like how good those likes looked on my notifications.”
You were going to pass away on the spot. But then his hand found yours, and that smile softened into something more private, more real. “Sure I’ll go.”
Maybe drunk you had known exactly what she was doing after all.
******************************************
Thank god for these VIP seats because the view? Immaculate.
Grandpa Ancelotti finally put Aurélien in his rightful position and oh my god, watching him command the midfield in person hit so different. TV did not prepare you for this. At all.
The way his orange kit stretched across those shoulders when he'd gesture to teammates? Criminal. And those calves? You'd seen them in videos but in person they were actually unreal. The entire package was just unfair - whoever said football kits weren't flattering had never seen Aurélien Tchouaméni in one. His body was sculptural, all lean muscle and perfect proportions, like god really sat down and took extra time crafting him specifically to ruin your life.
You watched him talk tactics with Jude, all authority and focused energy, and the way he carried himself on the field had you feeling some type of way. His whole demeanor shifted during matches - all business and pure power. The intensity in his eyes when he'd call out positions? Yeah, you were definitely going to need a glass of water.
When he made that assist - a perfect pass that had the crowd screaming - you jumped up cheering before remembering you were supposed to be playing it cool. But how could you when he glanced your way during the celebration with that smile?
Every time he'd body someone off the ball, the way his muscles flexed with the effort... Lord have mercy. You'd really thought writing a song about him was peak down bad but watching him work in person? Your brain was absolutely short-circuiting.
During a water break, he caught your eye and adjusted his shirt - a move you'd seen in countless matches but this time it felt deliberate, just for you. The stadium lights hit his dark skin just right, making him look like he was literally glowing. And that jawline? Sharp enough to cut glass.
The final whistle had you watching his post-match routine like you hadn't already memorized it from videos - the handshakes, the quick interviews, the way he'd run his hand over his fresh fade when downplaying how good he was. But then he looked up at your spot again with that private little smile and yeah... you were absolutely screwed.
Because watching Aurélien Tchouaméni absolutely own the soccer pitch? That wasn't just attraction anymore. That was straight up ruination.
You made it to the designated area and only had to wait around 30 minutes before Aurélien showed up, fresh from the shower, dressed casually but still somehow managing to look like a walking problem. A clean black tee stretched across his chest, showing off the definition of his arms, paired with dark jeans that sat just right on his waist. And the way his chain rested against his collarbone? Yeah, this was dangerous.
“You waited long?” he asked, a lazy smile on his lips as he approached, exuding the kind of confidence that came naturally to him.
“Not really,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.
His eyes dragged over you in a way that felt intentional, like he was cataloging every detail. “Good. Would’ve hated to keep you waiting.”
The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could overthink it, he tilted his head. “You hungry?”
You blinked. “Yeah.”
“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he said, nodding toward the exit.
You followed him out, keeping pace as he led you to his car — his matte black Lamborghini Urus. Of course. He opened the passenger door for you, stepping back just enough to give you space but still managing to be close, like his presence was a gravitational pull.
“You good?” he asked, one brow lifting as you hesitated before getting in.
You nodded quickly, sliding into the plush seat, inhaling the faint scent of leather and his cologne —clean, expensive, and entirely him. He shut the door gently before walking around to the driver’s side, settling in smoothly before starting the engine. The deep purr of the car filled the quiet, and when he rested one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift, your eyes traced the veins in his forearm, the way his fingers flexed slightly.
Yeah, this was setting you off.
Aurélien drove with an effortless confidence, maneuvering through Madrid’s streets like he’d done it a million times — which, of course, he had. As he looped around the Bernabéu, he nodded toward the stadium. “You should come back for a tour.”
Your head turned sharply toward him. “What?”
He glanced at you, amused by your surprise. “You liked watching me play, right?”
Like was an understatement. Watching him on the pitch, commanding the game with precision and strength, was one thing. But now, seeing him here, driving through the city with that same quiet control, his jaw flexing as he focused on the road, his fingers tapping against the wheel — it was too much.
You were obsessed. Fully.
Your crush was sitting mere inches away, effortlessly charming, looking stupid good behind the wheel, and here you were, acting all timid. No. You needed to snap out of it. Because if you didn’t make a move now, when would you?
“You like tacos?” His voice cut through your thoughts as he stopped at a red light, glancing at you with a knowing smirk.
Of course, you liked tacos. But right now? Food was the last thing on your mind.
Because tomorrow night, you’d be on a flight back to LA. Who knew when you’d see him again? Your lives were on different continents. And after everything —after DMing him, after him actually showing up for your video — didn’t you deserve this one night?
Your heart pounded as you turned toward him fully, a slow smile curving your lips. “Tacos can wait.”
Aurélien’s lips curved into a smirk, the kind that sent heat rushing through you. He tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Oh? And what are you in the mood for?”
The way his voice dipped on the last word made your breath hitch. He knew exactly what you meant. And judging by the way his fingers flexed against the steering wheel, he liked where this was going.
“Maybe we can go back to your place?” you suggested, trying to sound casual despite the thrum of anticipation running through you.
He hummed, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip like he was weighing his options. “For something to eat…or?”
“Definitely or,” you giggled, the boldness surprising even yourself.
Aurélien let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Alright. So, UberEats later. Sounds good.”
Your stomach flipped at the ease in his tone, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Then his eyes flicked to you, warm and dark with something unreadable, and he bit his lip. “You’re so beautiful.”
The compliment was soft, unprompted, and it caught you off guard. Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. “Thank you.”
He didn’t rush the drive, taking his time maneuvering through the streets, letting conversation flow easily between you. He asked about your time in Madrid, what you’d done so far, if you liked the city. And the whole time, his voice had that smooth, rich quality that made every word feel like it was meant just for you.
When he finally pulled up to his house — a sleek, modern place with clean lines and warm lighting —you barely had time to take it in before a low bark caught your attention.
Ocho.
The Belgian Malinois trotted toward the door as soon as you stepped inside, his dark eyes locked onto you with curiosity. Aurélien placed a reassuring hand on your lower back, his touch warm and grounding. “Let him sniff you first,” he murmured.
You extended your hand slightly, letting Ocho inspect you. The dog’s ears twitched before he gave a small huff, seemingly satisfied.
Aurélien grinned. “Good boy.” Then, switching to French, he said, “Va dans ta chambre.” (Go to your room.)
Ocho obeyed immediately, padding off toward what you assumed was his designated space.
“He’s well-trained,” you noted, impressed.
Aurélien shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Had to be. He’s my best boy.” Then he turned to you, his gaze softer now. “You want anything to drink?”
The fact that he even asked — so polite, so sweet —made your heart squeeze a little.
You shook your head. “I’m good.”
Still, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a water anyway, tucking them under his arm before reaching for you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Come on.”
As he guided you upstairs, his lips found the side of your neck, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin as you walked. His goatee tickled, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down your spine.
By the time you made it to his bedroom, you were already gripping his arm, steadying yourself against the dizzying effect of his touch.
Aurélien smirked as he nudged the door shut behind you. “Still thinking about tacos?”
Not even a little bit. “No.”
He placed the Gatorade and water bottle on the bedside table then Aurélien’s hands were warm against your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you in. His lips found yours, soft at first, tasting, teasing, savoring. The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, his lips moving against yours in a way that had your heart thudding in your chest.
But then his hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your hips, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, turning hotter, messier — needy. His tongue met yours, stroking, claiming, pulling soft moans from your lips that he swallowed greedily.
The room was quiet except for the sounds of your mouths working against each other, the wet slide of tongues, the occasional breathless sighs escaping between kisses. His fingers trailed up your back, making you arch into him, pressing your body flush against his. The heat between you was dizzying, his scent — fresh, clean, and something uniquely him —wrapping around you like a drug.
Your hands roamed, exploring the hard planes of his back, the ridges of muscle beneath his skin. He groaned into your mouth when your nails scratched lightly at his nape, the sound vibrating through you and making your thighs clench.
His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under the hem of your top, pushing it up, breaking the kiss only long enough to strip it from you. Then he went for your bottoms, peeling them away, leaving you in just your underwear. His dark eyes roved over you, taking you in, heat flickering in his gaze.
“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands were back on you, caressing, exploring, like he needed to feel every inch of your skin.
You didn’t hesitate, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. He let you pull it over his head, and your breath hitched when you got a full view of him — his abs looked even better in person, all taut muscle and definition, a masterpiece carved in 4D.
Your fingers traced along the ridges, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.
Aurélien groaned, low and deep, his head tipping back slightly. “You’re really testing my patience, bébé.”
You smiled, dragging your fingertips lower, teasing along the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers worked at the button, then the zipper, easing the denim down his hips. He helped, pushing them the rest of the way until they pooled at his feet, leaving him in just his Aime boxers.
Your breath caught.
He was hard.
The thick outline of his length strained against the fabric, the sight making heat pool low in your belly.
Your hands ghosted over his erection, barely grazing him, but it was enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.
“Shit,” he hissed, his hips jerking slightly at the contact.
You muttered an apology, but he just shook his head, eyes dark with heat. “It’s okay, bébé.”
Then his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs, guiding you toward the bed. You barely registered the feel of the mattress beneath you before he was pressing you down, his body hovering over yours, his heat surrounding you.
And from the way he looked at you — like he was about to ruin you — you knew you were in for it.
His hands skimmed down your body to unclasp your bra then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness. His gaze roved over you, hungry and heated, before he lowered himself between your thighs.
His mouth found your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your navel downward, making you shiver in anticipation.
And then — oh.
Aurélien’s lips, his tongue, the warmth of his breath against your pussy had you gasping, your fingers tangling in his curls as he worked you over with a skill that had your thighs trembling.
He was deliberate but messy, completely focused on you, his lips wrapping around your clit while his tongue moved in slow, devastating circles. When he slipped two fingers inside, curling them just right, a strangled moan escaped your lips.
“Tu prends si bien, bébé,” he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice making you whimper. His fingers stroked inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue, and your hips bucked instinctively. He just chuckled, holding you in place as he kept going, kept building you higher, until—
And then he pulled away.
A whimper of protest left your lips before you could stop it, and he smirked at your pout, his thumb swiping at the corner of his mouth like he was savoring the taste of you.
“Be right back,” he said, pressing a final kiss to your inner thigh before moving toward his dresser.
You pushed up on your elbows, watching as he pulled out a condom, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. Your breath hitched at the sight of him — thick, long, and impossibly hard.
Aurélien caught you staring and smirked. “Like what you see?”
You swallowed, your cheeks heating. “Obviously.”
That made him chuckle as he rolled the condom on, then returned to the bed, his hands guiding your legs further apart as he settled between them. One arm reached behind you, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under your lower back, another small but thoughtful gesture that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with arousal.
His lips found your neck as he nudged himself against your entrance, teasing you with shallow strokes, making your body crave him even more.
And as he finally, finally pushed inside, a deep moan left your lips, because — oh. Oh.
This was happening. Your crush, your fantasy, your dream — was now your reality.
His thrusts were slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you, but it didn’t take long before the teasing gave way to something deeper, more urgent. He kissed you through it, all tongue and heat, swallowing your moans as his hips found a steady rhythm.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with pleasure. “So wet for me.”
The chain around his neck swung forward with every movement, the cool metal brushing against your skin, dangling just above your face, and god, he looked beautiful like this — face twisted in pleasure, jaw clenched, brows furrowed, dark eyes locked on yours like he never wanted to look away.
“Tu es si belle,” he groaned, dropping his head to your neck, dragging open-mouthed kisses along your throat before moving lower. His tongue flicked over your nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your back arched off the bed, hands tangling in his curls as you whimpered his name.
Aurélien pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he released you with a wet pop. His eyes met yours, dark and full of intent.
“Turn over for me,” he said, voice like gravel, thick with desire.
You swallowed, your body already obeying before your mind could catch up. He sat back, watching you get on all fours, his large hands smoothing over the curve of your ass, squeezing each cheek once before dragging up your spine. The way he looked at you, eyes burning with hunger, sent heat pooling low in your stomach.
“You’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then he ran a hand through his curls, exhaling sharply before gripping your hips and lining himself up again.
And when he pushed back inside, deeper than before, a broken moan fell from your lips.
“That’s it, bébé,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your skin as he started to move, slow at first, teasing. “Taking me so well.”
His pace quickened, the sound of skin on skin filling the air, along with the low, guttural groans spilling from his lips. His chain swung again, the rhythmic clink of metal adding to the mix of sensations that had you spiraling.
“Feel me?” he rasped, dragging a hand up your spine to fist your hair gently, pulling just enough to make you arch. “So deep inside you. Fuck.”
You whimpered, barely able to form words, barely able to breathe with how good he felt, how he filled every inch of you like he was made for this.
“Talk to me,” he urged, voice raw. “Let me hear you.”
“I’m—” Your words broke off into a moan as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
“Yeah?” he taunted, a smirk in his voice. “Right there, huh?”
You could only nod frantically, your body trembling as he picked up the pace, chasing both of your releases. His angled his hips once more and that made you let out something primal.
“Damn, yes fuck me back,” he crooned just before you felt his lips touch the middle of spine. You shivered at the sensation, moaning out his name like a prayer.
“Aurélien….”
He rocked into you harder, faster and it made your toes curl. He was relentless and you loved every second of it. The sounds you both were making was the perfect lullaby of lust and pleasure.
“Mm…shit….Aurélien.” You couldn’t stop from moaning his name and judging by the way his hands gripped your hips each time, you could tell that he liked it.
Soon, you both were pushed over that edge, moaning as your orgasm overwhelmed your entire body. After awhile, you felt him slip out of you and then the bed shifted as he moved to throw out the condom.
Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of pleasure, limbs heavy, breath slowly evening out. You were probably a mess — hair wild, lips swollen, body still flushed with heat — but Aurélien? He looked unfairly good.
He was leaning back against the headboard, his chest still rising and falling steadily, dark skin glowing under the dim light. The chain that had been dangling in your face minutes ago now rested against his collarbones, catching the light with each small movement. He reached over to grab his Gatorade, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip before setting it on the bedside table.
Then, he turned to you, dark eyes scanning your face, something soft in his expression. “You want some?”
You shook your head, not because you weren’t thirsty, but because you couldn’t stop staring at him.
His lips quirked slightly. “You must really like me.”
The way he said it wasn’t cocky or teasing — it was knowing, like he’d been piecing it together all night. And maybe he was right, because you couldn’t help the dopey-ass smile that spread across your face.
Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head before exhaling through his nose. “I like you too. Wish you didn’t beat me to sliding in the DMs first, though.”
You lifted a brow. “You really mad about that?”
He made a little face, scrunching his nose slightly, which was unfairly adorable for someone who had just rearranged your insides. “Not that much,” he admitted. “But I would’ve liked the chase.”
You scoffed, rolling onto your side to face him. “The chase? What are you, a lion?”
That made him smile, a real one, warm and lazy, like he was letting his guard down completely. “When a guy likes a girl, he usually asks her out first,” he said simply. “You were in my likes, I was in yours… I was about to slide through, but yeah, you beat me to it.”
Your stomach did a little flip.
He reached out then, running a hand down your arm before linking his fingers loosely with yours. “But I’m gonna do the rest, okay?”
Your breath caught, your heart stumbling in your chest. This was Aurélien Tchouaméni, your crush, your dream, and now, here he was — holding your hand, looking at you like this wasn’t just some one-night thing.
“Okay,” you whispered, squeezing his fingers lightly.
His smile widened, and then he tugged you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before settling beside you, keeping your hand in his like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.
You couldn’t help but stare at him — at the strong lines of his face, the sharp jaw softened by the faintest hint of stubble, the fullness of his lips, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks when he blinked. He was so beautiful.
“What?” he murmured, catching you staring.
You shrugged, biting your lip. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
How crazy it was that you were here. That this wasn’t a dream. That your crush — the man who dominated the midfield with an effortless cool, the one you’d written lyrics about, the one you’d been too shy to DM for the longest time — was lying next to you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“About how wild this is,” you admitted.
Aurélien chuckled, his dimples flashing as he turned onto his side, propping his head up with his free hand. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “I mean, this time yesterday, I was just hoping you’d even notice me at the game. Now I’m in your bed.”
That smirk made a reappearance, but his voice was soft when he said, “I noticed you way before the game, bébé.”
Your stomach flipped. “Yeah?”
“Of course,” he said easily. “You think I wasn’t watching whenever you posted on Instagram? When you DM’d me?”
Your face warmed. “You didn’t answer right away.”
He grinned, teasing. “Had to make you sweat a little.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really are a lion.”
“Gotta keep things interesting,” he mused. Then, more seriously, “But I was always gonna answer.”
Something about the way he said it made your heart squeeze. Like he wasn’t just saying it to make you feel good. Like, in some way, he’d been waiting for this too.
You swallowed. “And now that I’m here?”
Aurélien’s eyes darkened slightly, but there was something tender in his gaze as he squeezed your fingers. “Now,” he murmured, shifting closer, “I’m making sure you come back.”
Your breath caught, and before you could think of a response, he kissed you.
It was slow this time, unhurried, like he wanted to take his time tasting you. His lips moved against yours with an intoxicating rhythm, deepening the kiss little by little until you were completely lost in it. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.
And maybe he did. Maybe this wasn’t just for tonight.
Maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.
Aurélien pulled back just enough to search your face, his lips still brushing against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along your arm as he studied you with that knowing smirk that made your stomach flip.
“That song,” he murmured. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”
Your heart stuttered.
For a second, you thought about playing coy, maybe teasing him a little, but what was the point? He already knew. You could see it in the glint of amusement in his eyes, the confidence in his voice.
You sighed, defeated but grinning. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It’s about you.”
Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head like he’d known it all along. “I knew it,” he said, his voice rich with satisfaction. “You should write another one.”
You huffed out a laugh. “Another song?”
“Mm-hmm.” His fingers brushed down your back, tracing the curve of your spine. “One about tonight.”
Your breath hitched at the implication, at the way his voice had dipped lower, rougher.
You bit your lip. “Might have to.”
Aurélien grinned. “Good,” he murmured, kissing you again. “Make it a love song.”
146 notes · View notes
yayll · 5 months ago
Note
Hi!! It’s my first time requesting something so I dont know how that works.. um I was thinking of some mission like some kind of ball that dazai and y/n has to go and y/n has to seduce someone to get information out of them. You know those masquerade balls? Yeah I think that really goood!! And dazai gets sooooooooo jealous and after she got the information dazai kiss her infront of that person to show him that she’s his😭😭😭😭😭😭omg
HIII angel sorry this took me a while, but i hope you like it :') i tweaked your idea a lil and fingers crossed this is what you so graciously asked for. i tried to put my best jealous goofy ass dazai in there along with the absolute MUSH his brain turns into when he has you to himself mixed with a lil........ fucked in the headness. i love requests! this was soooo fun to write i love youuuuuu <3
~ a little something about Dazai and his uncharacteristic jealousy ~
Tumblr media
"Osamu, come on... You're my only sweetheart, you know that."
You call out half sweetly and half out of breath as you follow him down the hallway of the lavish event you were currently attending, dressed to the nines and trying to remain undercover. You were coming to realize why people didn't date within the workplace as he walked ahead, grumbling to himself. He's trying to remain unfazed, pretending to still be upset as he shrugs with his back turned to you.
"Hmph. I dunno, I don't feel like I'm your 'sweet' anything..."
This causes you to roll your eyes affectionately and pick up the pace, placing a hand on the back of his shoulder to finally stop him in his tracks. You flash him a sincere smile, and speak softly.
"I'm really sorry you had to see that. I didn't know that asshole was going to kiss me after he let me go. I also didn't think you'd ever get jealous..."
You say that last part with a more playful tone, treading dangerous waters of your unpredictable lover's emotions. As expected, he sighs dramatically, casting you a look of disgust.
"Ugh, of course I'm not... That's honestly sooo lame and pathetic. I can entertain jealousy as much as I can entertain one of Kunikida's little speeches on morals, or whatever."
"You mean his 'ideals'?"
You chide, stifling a laugh. He glares at you, his eyes narrowing as he scans you for a moment.
He can't find a single flaw on that precious face, not a single stray hair or stain on your exquisite outfit. He should change that by the end of the night.
"... You're always so negative, correcting me and whatnot. Isn't it tiring being so irritatingly superior in every way?"
This one gets a laugh out of you, You can tell he's slowly lightening up his mood by the way you both begin walking side by side once again.
"Yeah well, if it weren't for that little kiss earlier, we'd both still be all tied up in the wine cellar of this wonderful party."
He flashes you a pout, and shrugs dismissively.
"And here I thought you of all people would like the idea of being tied up with me. Hmph, wrong partner, I suppose."
Now he was starting to pick back at you, though it was cute. Jealousy looked cute on him, it was something you didn't think he was capable of. It was a pity it had to be during a mission where your main asset was your seduction skills and his was mental instability. You hated every second of it, but you also wanted to make sure you both made it out with the secret intel alive.
You make your way into the grand ballroom, the gala is in full swing, and your eyes dart around to find a proper escape route. Just as you see an exit, a handsome and well dressed young man blocks your view, sticking his hand out.
"Hi. You're gorgeous. Care for a dance?"
You stare down at his hand and then back up at the stranger, your face flushing as you're caught off guard.
"Me? No, no I-"
Dazai immediately interjects, sloppily holding a glass of champagne that somehow manifested in his hand and pretends to be drunk. He loved his theatrics, especially when he was desperate.
He bumps harshly into the young man's shoulder, the alcohol sloshing out of the cup as he slurs, but not before he flashes you a wink to tell you to play along.
"Sooo sorry, pardon me. This indeed beautiful angel is quite busy you see... Taking care of me that is. Ooh, I'm a wreck! I'm nothing but a sad and lonely dog.. In this sad and lonely world-"
The man looks at Dazai skeptically, and huffs into a chuckle. He shoves him away, and turns his attention back to you. Your eyes dart nervously between the two, wondering what Dazai will do next.
"Shut it, clown.. Anyway, I think this further proves you should be in the company of a gentleman like me tonight rather than this wet mop-"
The sound of a champagne flute soaring through the air and connecting to the man's skull is suddenly heard, interrupting him and sending him falling to the ground along with broken glass and liquid everywhere. In one swift motion, Dazai is at your side with a premature victorious smirk, but before you can both be on your way, the man regains his posture and spins him around, punching him square in the face. Dazai's not scrawny or weak, but he isn't the most skilled fighter, relying mostly on his special ability and intelligence to get him out of things.
You gasp, instinctively grabbing Dazai by the collar of his suit and dragging him away to get lost in the crowd of concerned people. You finally make it outside and you both collapse onto the soft grass just outside the venue. It's decorated with all kinds of flowers and fragrant rose bushes, it almost looks like you're at the garden of Versailles. You look over at Dazai, his nose bleeding all over the place, but he looks completely unbothered by it. As you reach over to touch the bridge of his nose, he grabs your wrist and holds it away gently. He waves a finger at you.
"No touchy, I've got it."
He does not, in fact, got it. He looks around until he plucks a rose petal and uses it to wipe his nostrils. You frown, getting all up in his space within an instant.
"What on earth are you doing, Osamu? Let me help, you goofball. Your nose is a mess thanks to that stunt you pulled."
You tear off a bit of fabric from your outfit and dab his skin tenderly, holding his head on your lap now. You can see some blood has trailed down his neck, staining the bandages there along with the collar of his crisp white dress shirt you picked out for him this morning. Dazai perks up, his voice slightly strained but full of lightheartedness.
"How does it feel to work with the agency's most tactical and covert operative? Eh?~"
You bite back a smile, and shake your head. You murmur.
"Feels like he's asking for a death wish a little more than usual."
Your lips soon become a thin line, realizing your statement hurts a little more in the context of the situation than it usually would. He notices your mood shift as his eyes flicker from your concerned eyes down to your lips and back up again. He knows it hurts you when he's like this, reckless and acting out on the impulses of his own plans. He wants to sit up and close the gap between you, kiss you until you drop down those brave walls you're putting up for the sake of the mission. For the sake of your feelings for him. He knows he's careless with it all.
He hums, eyes trained on you as if burning the image of your heavenly self into his mind, where you always deserve to be. In the distance, a bulky sketchy looking man runs out of the venue frantically, looking around wildly and you both get the impression it's the guy from the cellar earlier who kissed you in exchange for your freedom.
Shit! You could have sworn you knocked him out cold. Dazai sits up from your lap and you two scoot more into the bush, trying to hide from him as he makes a call. You mutter under your breath, turning to Dazai as you begin to type something out on your communicator.
"Now's the perfect time to let the others know we're ready for extraction."
He's already looking at you, or gazing admiringly more like. He knows he can fuck up everything, pay any consequence, but the thing he needs to get right for the selfishness of his wretched little heart is you. He scoots a bit closer, hearing the sounds of both your shallow breaths harmonizing. He mutters, softly.
"It would also be the perfect time for you to kiss my face better. You know, for my wellness and all that. Besides, that guy wasn't very nice to us earlier and we need to get rid of any traces of him from those lips. Yuck."
You roll your eyes yet again, despite the fluttering that won't let your stomach rest.
"Who cares about that, we have a case to close first."
He smirks, voice dropping low and provocative.
"I care."
He leans in even further, practically caging you with both arms on either side of you. He can feel your breathing become more erratic, his own filled with a pathetic sense of need he always has when he's with you. Dazai's hand reaches out and grabs your chin, turning it up slightly to face him, making sure you drop this silly act once and for all. His voice comes out gentle, firm.
"I need you to physically push me away, or I swear I'm going to kiss you right now, cutie."
Your eyes widen as you let a shaky breath escape your plush lips, murmuring in return.
"I'll.. punch you in the nose again, you know..."
His hand moves from your chin to the side of your face, cupping your cheek as he takes another breath, his body aching to be as close to yours as possible. His eyes are fixed on you, tearing you apart right then and there, but not before putting you back together so nicely. In that moment, he knows you don't mean that, and he knows he can't resist anymore.
He then whispers with a finality, the anticipation torturing him like you do on a daily basis.
"I don't think I'm going to listen to that..."
You break into a faint smile as you perceive him back.
"You've still got a little blood on your-"
Without another word, Dazai closes the remaining distance between you and him, kissing you with fervor as his soft whines reverberate against your lips. You taste sweetness and then... metallic as your lips mesh together for a heavenly moment. He feels alive, this was what he needed, the soothing balm for his soul and any other wound only you could provide. He's like a vampire, a parasite leeching off of your very essence so he could be himself around you. Cowardly burrowing into the safety of your heart. You squirm just a tad, your fingers carding through his brown hair as you try to keep up. He pulls back after his nose can't push more air through and keeps his lips hovering over yours, feeling the heat from your mouth mingle with his as he sees your lips stained red with his blood. Just as he's going to comment on how disgustingly erotic it is to see you like that, he pushes away the indecent thoughts, using the bandage on his wrist to wipe your mouth instead.
"Okay, I'll be good for now. You can call for extraction.~"
It was a dumb thing to do and could be seen as him being territorial or jealous, but the reality of it was that it was the natural order of things when it came to the way he processed his affections. Someone gets in between the two of you in any way?
An uglier and more dangerous past version of himself would have called for an immediate execution, there was a reason he held the titles that he did. He did his very best to keep that mentality at bay, rebuking it every time he felt a dark urge that he felt needed to be dealt with, mostly for your sake and for the sake of the promise he made to a friend once. Though he can't lie and say that's not who he is anymore, he can always find a better way to get his point across... even if a wishful bullet to the head comes out in the form of a kiss on your precious lips. He'll try for you. He'll wear the fastidious label proudly and be Dazai, a jealous man.
245 notes · View notes
thisismeracing · 1 year ago
Text
Unwritten | DR3
― Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: mentions of break up and food; typos. ― Summary: Yn and Daniel were together for 4 years, and now they have to learn to be alone after a complicated breakup. The thing is, how does one get over someone they still love? How to forget when your song keeps playing everywhere? Their future? Still unwritten. ― A/n: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛
Tumblr media
✷ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ✷ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment(don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee
f1gossip
Tumblr media
liked by anon007, dannyricfan, and others
f1gossip Paddock's IT couple apparently broke up. Daniel and Yn deleted their respective pictures from each others profile. With Yn's disappearance from races, this was something that a few fans saw coming. According to sources, it was a mutual, but painful decision.
view all comments
anonfan I wonder how's Yn doing 😟
⤷ ynsunshine I'm manifesting so much love and happiness in her life, she deserves it
italianricciardo do we know what happened?
charlesleshow you expect me to still believe in love after this breakup? 🤣😭🤣😭🤣😭🤣
lewcedes bro, daniel must be crushed, he worshipped the ground Yn walked
ricciardoyln you mean to tell me that the couple that sang SOS from mamma mia in a karaoke during their friends wedding simply broke up? 👎👎👎
popyn HOW??? WHY???? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS ❓❓❓❓❓
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this piece, I've saved this idea on my drafts a while ago, and only now I had the energy to get it done (and the inspo bc I've been listening to Unwritten non stop - and its been playing everywhere too!).
If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘
▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.
taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification
©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.
557 notes · View notes
cheolaholic · 5 months ago
Text
ring of love; csc (07)
summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.
Tumblr media
modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut
a/n;; im gonna be honest, i had no clue as to how im gonna write chapter 7 so i took a short break. that ended with me diving head first into love and deepspace which now has led me to a new obsession – Sylus. if you saw that post i made abt LNDS a few weeks ago, that has manifested into a side blog @chaeriescola where i’ll be posting my-non kpop related fics (read: Sylus & Zayne brainrot) also, i’m on Patreon now !! if you join my Patreon, you’ll get early access to the fics (a week early before they get posted on tumblr & ao3), exclusive bonus content, sneak peeks of other projects etc. if you’d like these special treats, feel free to join 👀 enough of me yapping, onto the fic~
Tumblr media
Seungcheol wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he tasked Mingyu and Vernon to look after you – considering how they both absolutely suck at understanding the whole “look after ___ for me but, don’t let her catch you” concept. He’s seen them tail behind you, possibly raising concerns in some students and staff whether they were stalking you from the moment they spotted you.
coups: can’t you two be more discreet? coups: you both look like you’re the worst stalkers gameboi: ? tallgyu: I think we’re doing a good job alien-non: yea, she hasn’t noticed us gameboi: you really got Mingyu and Hansol to tail after ___? gameboi: no offense to all 3 of you gameboi: but Hansol’s logic is practically gone if Mingyu’s leading tallgyu: HEY alien-non: I suggested we wear disguises but Mingyu didn’t want to! tallgyu: those weirdly shaped sunglasses are way too obvious coups: what you’re doing now is way more obvious! tallgyu: she hasn’t noticed us tallgyu: it’s fine hyung coups: Vernon alien-non: yes coups: you know how aware ___ is of her surroundings coups: she’s probably already spotted you both gameboi: but chose not to say anything
As if on cue, when they both turned a corner, they were both startled to come face-to-face with you, arms crossed, staring right at them.
“You’ve both been following me for the past hours, can I help you?” you ask, eyes narrowing when they both exchange a look.
“Well…” Mingyu started, “We… We just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost…?”
Vernon mentally facepalms at Mingyu’s response while you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, “To make sure I wouldn’t get lost…? On a campus I’ve been attending for at least 2 years…?”
“Seungcheol hyung wanted us to look after you,” Vernon confesses, “I don’t know why, but he just told us to keep an eye on you.”
“And, so, you’ve decided to follow me around?”
“Mingyu was the one who suggested it…”
“You both would make terrible secret agents…” Seungcheol mumbled as he came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sent glares to the two younger males. “Cheol, I’m a big girl now – I can handle myself!”
“I know, I know,” he admits, “And, I’m sorry, pup-”
“Pup? You call her ‘pup’?” Your ears burned red at Mingyu’s question, forgetting that not everyone grew up with you and Seungcheol or knowing the reason that he calls you that.
“It’s a nickname I gave her while we were growing up,” Seungcheol answers, “And, it stuck with her since.”
“She grew up with you? Oh, you poor thing,” Mingyu faked cries as he pulls you into an embrace, “He must’ve picked on you non-stop.”
“Actually, he didn’t pick on me.” The taller male pulls away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your answer. “He stood for me and may or may not have threatened the people that did pick on me.” He looks at Seungcheol with a look of betrayal, “That’s not fair! Why does she get special treatment while you keep picking on me!?”
Seungcheol pries Mingyu away from you, his arm returning to its position on your waist as he answers, “Because you’re Mingyu, and she’s… she’s ___.”
Tumblr media
‘Well… this is… awkward…’ you thought to yourself as you sat in front of Wonwoo, one of the other boys you had briefly met that night. Seungcheol suggested you meet the three of them altogether, mainly Mingyu and Wonwoo since you were already best friends with Vernon, to somewhat break the ice.
‘Choi Seungcheol, you ass, this is anything but breaking the ice! If anything, this is increasing the freezing point of the ice!’
Unfortunately, Seungcheol’s plan of grabbing lunch together is now facing a setback. You had no classes that day, Wonwoo finished his, but Seungcheol, Mingyu and Vernon were being held back for their classes.
“Seungcheol, I’ve only met him once!” you whisper-shouted into your phone, “And, neither of us exchanged a single conversation since!”
“I know, I know,” Seungcheol answers, wracking his head to come up with solutions, “But, this lecturer is talking so slow that I have no choice!”
“What about Vernon and Mingyu?”
A sigh was heard, “Apparently, the model was being fussy about how she should be posing for their portrait. The lecturer needed her to be partially clothed, but since Mingyu was in the class… You can fill in the blanks…”
You let out a sigh, looking into the windows of the cafe as Wonwoo sits at a booth near the pick-up counter, “How much longer until you all are able to get here?”
“Probably an hour… And another 20 minutes to get there. Hey, you and Wonwoo both like drinking coffee and are introverts! Maybe you both can try talking to break the ice.”
Oh, boy, did Seungcheol underestimate the introversion you and Wonwoo possess. You had initially tried to have small talk with him, only to chicken out when he looked at you with that piercing gaze through his glasses. It’s been half an hour since you sat down at the booth with him, your strawberry milkshake sitting on a coaster as he goes to order possibly his third cup of cappuccino.
When he returns with his drink, you can’t help but ask, “Isn’t that… too much caffeine…?”
Wonwoo seemed a bit taken back when you finally opened your mouth to talk, but he recovers quickly and shrugs, “Honestly, after drinking caffeine for years, you kind of grow immune to it. You should’ve seen Mingyu’s reaction when he found me sleeping after downing 5 cans of Monster.”
“Five!?”
“Yes, five.”
“And, you were still able to sleep?”
“Like a baby.”
Wonwoo was surprisingly easy to talk to – you just needed to get over your social anxiety and the very intimidating resting bitch face he has. You’ve come to learn that the man in front of you was GAM3BO1WOO, a famous game streamer on SVTwitch. You’ve seen a few of his stream clips on your feed, but you weren’t exactly a fan of his since his taste in games and yours were vastly different.
“Do you play every new game release?” you asked, scrolling through his MAESTRO account and skimming through his posts.
“It depends, actually. If a new game really catches my eye, then I’ll download it. Other than that, either the companies sponsored me to stream their games, my followers keep requesting that I play the game they think would suit me or want to see me play. Sometimes, Mingyu and Cheol would gift me co-op games since a lot of them have the mechanic of if one player already owns the game, the second player plays for free.”
“Have you ever hopped on trends?”
“It drives traffic and increases my followers, can’t really complain.”
You’re not sure how long you’ve been conversing with Wonwoo. But, it was definitely long enough for neither of you to notice the three men standing right outside the window, watching you two fondly and surprised. “They’re… talking…” Mingyu says in awe, a chuckle from Seungcheol following afterwards, “Nice to know two of our introverts are getting along just fine.”
You noticed them from the corner of your eyes, turning to the window, Wonwoo following to look at them. You smiled, giving them a small wave which they returned while the latter gave a small nod of his head.
“Sorry for keeping the two of you waiting,” Seungcheol apologised the second he got to the booth, taking a seat next to you. Mingyu and Vernon took their seats next to Wonwoo after placing their orders at the counter. “Aren’t you going to get anything?” you asked the older male, looking up at him as you took a sip from your milkshake.
“I’m assuming you’re waiting for me so you can order some kind of snack which we either share or I finish the remaining you can’t.” When you don’t answer and avert his gaze, Seungcheol knows he caught you red-handed. He chuckles as he gets out of the booth and towards the counter, which unfortunately for you, leads to an interrogation by the other three boys – technically, it was mainly Mingyu with the occasional questioning from Vernon. Wonwoo just sits quietly, listening in as his eyes would dart between you, your two ‘interrogators’ and Seungcheol who was still lining up.
The two men asked you the questions you’d expect.
“How old were you when you met Seungcheol hyung?”
“I think… I think I was 5? He should be about 7 or 8?”
“What did he look like back then? Did he look like a nerd?”
“Well, he had the signature bowl kid every boy got when they were kids or teens.”
“Was he scary?”
“Kind of? Not a lot of people messed with me because of how protective he was over me.”
“Mess with little red riding hood, the big bad wolf will come and get you.”
All attention was on Seungcheol as he placed a plate of strawberry cake and a plate of a dozen brownies on the table, returning to his seat right next to you. Noticing the stunned expressions from his peers, he shrugs, “That was what they’d always say to anyone trying to approach her with ill intentions. It’s basically their way of saying ‘if you don’t want trouble, don’t go looking for trouble’.”
An easier way to put it was – if you don’t want to deal with an angry Seungcheol, don’t bother his girl. Your heart still flutters at how some people referred to you as ‘his girl’, but you knew that actually being his girl was nothing more than a dream to you. “By the way hyung, when’s your next fight? Maybe ___ could come and help out, y’know?” Vernon asks, reaching out to grab a brownie only for his hand to be lightly slapped by Seungcheol. “Ow! What was that for!?”
“If you want them, go get them yourselves,” the older male answers, pushing the plate of brownies towards you. “These are for ___. If you want one, go get one yourself.” Your face heats up at the gesture, and heats up further when the three males turn to you. “Why does she get special treatment?” Mingyu whines, “And how can she possibly finish that entire plate?”
Seungcheol pats your head as he answers, “Because she’s ___. And, yes, she can. If she can’t, I’ll finish it.”
“Can we have a piece if you’re the one finishing it up?”
“No, get your own.”
“Ah, hyung!”
Tumblr media
You’ve managed to bond with Wonwoo and Mingyu, becoming close with them in a matter of days and now, you’ve got four ‘bodyguards’ walking around with you (Mingyu refers to them as that, the others and you just play along). The downside that comes with the friendship would be a flock of envious fangirls (and occasionally fanboys) who had begun to buzz around you like moths attracted to light.
“How did you become friends with Wonwoo? Could you ask him to shout me out on his streams or MAESTRO account?”
“Is Mingyu single? Could you introduce me to him?”
“Would you like to be friends? I’d love to be friends with the boys!”
Both boys could see you were tired of the clout chasers, especially Wonwoo since he knows you value your personal space. Both men had taken the issue to their social media, expressing how they’d appreciate it if their ‘fans’ stopped bugging their friends and loved ones in an attempt to get close with them. You remembered when both of them addressed the issue on Wonwoo’s stream, the sternness in both their voices still sent shivers down your spine.
“We understand that you may think you know us as we both are content creators and certain information has been released about us online. While we may not be able to put an end to the parasocial relationship that you have built with us, we do not know you and you do not know us. Do not harass our friends and loved ones, and if your unhealthy obsession of us persists, please seek help.”
That was enough for a majority of the fanboys/fangirls to back off. Some still linger, but they were no longer up close and in your face bombarding you with questions or requests.
Currently, Wonwoo, Mingyu and Vernon sat in a discussion room within the library as they waited for Seungcheol and you. It was a small meet-up, but it could also be treated as a short co-working/co-studying meet-up. Your class was ending later than usual and Seungcheol offered to wait for you so both of you could walk to the library.
Beauty and the Beasts
mingoo: @princess how much longer is the lecture gonna take?
princess: erm… another 15 mins?
princess: …
princess: who set my nickname as princess in the gc?
All four boys replied altogether and you playfully rolled your eyes.
mingoo: coups hyung
vernonnie: cheol hyung
nonu: seungcheol
cheol: i did
cheol: i got you your coffee order btw
mingoo: what about us?
cheol: you lot already got your orders before you headed to the library
mingoo: i’m assuming you got her snacks too
cheol: yes
cheol: and they’re only for ___
cheol: so don’t try to steal them
Mingyu lets out a groan as he lays his upper body on the table. “It’s not fair,” he whines, “Why does Seungcheol hyung give ___ special treatment? Is it because she’s a girl?” Vernon shrugs, “Maybe? But, he’s treated his exes the same way, too.”
“Yeah, I know that, Vernon. But, isn’t there something different?”
Mingyu sits up as he looks at Vernon, his words seeming to be hinting at something as the younger male sits in silence. “It’s like he’s more attentive, more caring. Like, he was caring before to the other girls, but there’s this extra layer to it, y’know?”
“He means there’s more than meets the eye,” Wonwoo says, “I think what Mingyu’s trying to say is that Seungcheol is whipped for ___.”
“Yes!” Mingyu exclaims, pointing at Wonwoo with a puppy-like grin on his face, “But, also no? I don’t know! They grew up together so maybe it’s like a habit he has or a sense of responsibility he feels?”
“But, who would want to call their childhood best friend who is now an adult ‘pup’?” Vernon questions, and Wonwoo tips his pencil in the younger male’s direction, “Precisely. Everyone would grow out of it, much less a nickname like that. Hell, would you call any of your friends that kind of name as an adult?”
Mingyu hums in understanding. All three of them knew just how shameless Seungcheol could be sometimes. Vernon bites back a gag when he recalls accidentally witnessing Seungcheol and his then girlfriend making out in his car, in the campus’ parking lot - in broad daylight. He pitied his therapist who had to listen to him ramble on and on about suspecting the older male having an exhibitionist kink.
“So, you really think he’s whipped for her?”
“Seungcheol barely remembers your favourite cake, but he remembers ___’s coffee order.”
“He probably has it written down somewhere?”
“I beg to differ,” Vernon speaks up.
He joined Seungcheol to get coffee a few weeks ago. While Seungcheol was ordering his, you had texted Vernon saying your Business Module class had completely drained you and you were in need of a quick pick me up. All he did was say, “___ wants us to help get her coffee,” and Seungcheol began reciting your order to the barista without a second thought.
“He knew it like the back of his hand! Not a single thing was missed out!”
As Mingyu and Vernon continue to discuss Seungcheol's love life, Wonwoo glances down at his phone as it vibrates, a notification from you. Opening up the text app on his laptop, he types out his reply.
___: hey woo?
___: is it ok if i call you that-
wonwoo: yes?
wonwoo: n yes, perfectly fine
___: ok
___: um, so the class im in rn, we’re almost done btw!
___: they need me to write some kind of paper abt how psychology n business work
___: n since you’re a psych major
wonwoo: you need my help, yes?
___: bingo
___: is it possible for you to help me?
wonwoo: sure thing
wonwoo: why don’t you go over the details with me once you’re out of class?
wonwoo: we’ve booked the discussion room for the entire day
___: don’t the others have class?
Wonwoo can feel Mingyu and Vernon standing behind him as they “observe” his conversation with you. “Oooh, you’re texting his girl~” Mingyu teases, earning a glare from the older male that shuts him up immediately. “She needs help with her coursework and I have relevant information that can help her,” he replies as he resumes to type out his reply.
wonwoo: seungcheol only has one class today iirc
wonwoo: gyu and vernon have some kind of workshop in an hour
___: oh, cool!
___: then i can also get cheollie’s opinion
“Do you think they have a thing for each other?” Vernon asks, seemingly picking up on certain signs just from the text Wonwoo had just exchanged with you.
“Who? Seungcheol hyung and ___?” Mingyu asks back and he nods. The taller male thinks for a while, recalling the times that he’s seen any form of interaction or exchanged conversation the pair have shared. “Maybe? But, there weren’t any obvious signs that explicitly showed that Seungcheol or ___ like the other.”
“Well, there is a saying that love is in plain sight. Or that whole “you were hiding in plain sight” trend that was going around CIRCLES a few months ago.”
“Should we play cupid?”
“I think it’d be best if we don’t interfere with their love life.”
Wonwoo had a point. While their curiosity was gnawing away, the last thing they’d wanna do is accidentally driving a wedge between you and Seungcheol. It would be worse if they were reading the room wrong and neither of you were harbouring any feelings for the other. “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t find some clues to answer our hypothesis.”
Mingyu and Vernon looked at the older male who was still typing on his laptop. “Are we conducting experiments on them now?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d say it’s more of observing their interactions with each other.”
“We’ll leave the psychology part to the psych major.”
“If this ends up being your thesis paper, Woo, we’d better be given credits.”
Tumblr media
Later that night…
gyu created the group Operation Cupid 💘
Tumblr media
taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)
@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetner @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnothelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @shingbangyes @black-swan-blog27 @minhui896
244 notes · View notes
flemingsfreckles · 5 months ago
Text
Replacement Part 8
Tumblr media
Read the previous parts HERE
Warnings: general discussion of anxiety, internalized homophobia, mention of parental abuse (emotional and physical), language
WC: 3.2k
A/N: I’ll be honest, I’m struggling with my motivation to write this series at the moment so unfortunately I feel like updates will be a little far apart, but you never know 🤷‍♀️
Going back to training after the wedding was harder than you had imagined. You had to drag yourself out of bed that morning, everything in you wanting to call out knowing you’d have to see Jessie. It wasn’t just getting to training that had been hard, the hours seemed to go by slowly once you had arrived at the facility. You kept to yourself, you were quiet, you kept your head down and just tried to work and get through the hours. Training was easier said than done when your head was filled with a thousand thoughts of your own teammate kissing you.
Jessie had done her best to keep her distance. She knew you didn’t want to talk in the way you avoided her glance, choosing to stare at the floor, the way you ignored her many calls and texts for the first few days until she stopped trying. She still would send a message every couple of days, wishing you well, offering an apology, or asking to talk to you.
You knew she felt guilty, the way she’d give you a look of pity and regret when your eyes would accidentally meet or when the two of you were forced to be training partners. She didn’t push the subject, never asking or questioning what was happening between the two of you. She only spoke to you when necessary for training. It hurt, you ached to speak to her again and a small part of you ached to be physically close to her again, but you knew you couldn’t. So you kept your head down and carried on keeping your distance.
You knew your other teammates noticed. They noticed you were quiet, a couple of them asking you what was up. You brushed them off, telling them it was nothing, you just hadn’t slept well, you had a headache, you used all of the excuses most of them believed you.
Janine didn’t though. Which led to a heavy handed knock on your door on your day off from training.
“What are you doing here?” You said upon seeing Janine’s face through the opening of the door.
“You’ve been weird and I’m your friend, so I’m checking on you.”
“I’m good Janine.” Your hand finds the doorknob ready to shut it.
“I think you’re lying.” She puts her foot between the door and the door frame, her hand coming to push on the door. You watch as she takes in the sight of your apartment behind you. It was a mess, a physical manifestation of what the inside of your brain felt like. “I’m coming in.”
“Fine.” You say before turning and heading to slump on the couch. You knew this was inevitable, you knew she’d break you down and figure out what was wrong, she’d know everything in the next few hours. But that didn’t mean you’d just offer up the information easily.
Janine follows you to the couch and sits down. The way she looks at you makes you think she already knows way too much. “What happened at my wedding?”
“You got married.” You respond, stating the obvious, you couldn’t slip up, even if she already knew something was weird.
Janine rolls her eyes at you. “You know that’s not what I mean. There was something that happened with you.”
“It’s nothing.” You mumble. The tightness in your chest was already building slowly.
“Okay.” Janine clasps her hands across her lap, watching you. “I know something happened, you’ve been weird since.”
“Nothing happened.”
“That’s not what Jessie said.” Those words from her mouth make your stomach drop.
“She told you?!” You knew Jessie and Janine were close, but you didn’t expect her to tell Janine, it was her experience to share too, you just hadn’t thought about it.
“So something did happen. And no, she didn’t tell me what happened. She told me I should check on you, but she didn’t give me details. She refused.”
That’s when the panic started to creep back in. You had managed to push the memory of the kiss from your brain, suppressing it so far.
“Janine I can’t.” The tightness started to build in your chest, spreading to your throat.
“Can’t what?” She had such a concerned look across her face. You trusted Janine, she was safe, she wouldn’t scream or yell, or try to change you. She wouldn’t hit you.
“I can’t, I don’t, I, I don’t like her, I can’t want her, she’s a girl, I can’t be g-” your choke on your words before you can even get it out. You can feel your lungs burning, feeling tight, unable to catch your breath. You’re blinking hard and fast trying to keep the tears from spilling out.
“Look at me.” Janine’s hand reaches for the bottom of your face, her action floods your body with the same panic you did when your parents made a move toward your face. You flinch and try to scramble away from her. You watch as her own eyes widen, her hand immediately retracting. “I’m sorry.” She places her hand out to you, offering it, but not forcing you to make contact with her.
You let one hand reach slowly out to her. Her hand is warm, soft and you’re reminded again, this is Janine. She’s not your parents.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” She starts taking deep breaths and you try your best to mimic her. She gently rubs her thumb across the knuckles of your hand.
You’re able to catch your breath finally, now feeling exhausted. “I can’t be gay.” You finally manage to murmur the words out before another wave of tears comes out. You watch Janine’s face flash with confusion. She doesn’t say anything immediately, letting you cry while she help your hand.
The two of you stay, sitting Janine silently comforting you as you cried. When you finally catch your breath, you glance up at her. You feel embarrassed, embarrassed that you were admitting this to her, embarrassed about your breakdown. You quickly glance back down to your lap. “Sorry.” You mumble up to her.
“Don’t be.” You hear her take a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?” Janine says.
“Yeah.”
“Why not?” She asked, but you knew deep down, she already knew the answer, or at least some of it. “So what if you’re gay, that’s okay.”
“Janine, I don't want to talk about this.” A twinge of annoyance starts to make itself known in your voice. You didn’t want to talk, you couldn’t, you’d managed to push it down for so long, but here it was threatening to bubble over. You continued to avoid her eyes.
“Is that what you were told as a kid? That it was wrong, you couldn’t be gay?” You give a weak attempt at a nod and Janine continues. “Your parents tell you that?” Another nod. “Is that why you don’t speak to them?” You don’t nod to her third question, instead you shrug. The issue with your parents was bigger than just them telling you you can’t like girls, it was so much more than that.
“I am so sorry.” She says and you’re finally able to muster the courage to look at Janine’s face. “I know it’s not just as easy as me saying this, but there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting to love someone, even if that’s another girl.”
“I know, and I promise I’m not homophobic, anyone can do whatever, none of my business, it’s just I, I can’t be, that would prove them right.” You quickly realize your own panic may have given Janine the wrong idea about your views.
“Prove who right?” She asks gently, your hand still sitting in hers.
Already emotionally vulnerable, you break down at her question and you let it all out. All of the details.
You tell Janine about Grace first.
You start off by explaining she was your best friend and then about how your parents suspected the two of you were together. You tell her how your parents had thrown you out one night into the cold, with no place to go. You tell her how you had run to Grace, she was your safe place. You tell her you didn’t have feelings for Grace, or at least that you knew of. You then mention how you kissed Grace at her house. How it had felt right, but it wasn’t.
You then tell her what you endured after that kiss. You told her how your parents had brought you back home, how they lectured and screamed at you, day after day. How they drilled into your brain that being gay was wrong. You told her how confusing it all was for you. You were just a kid. You tell her how you didn’t know what those feelings you had meant then and you don’t know what those feelings mean when you had them in college and you still now don’t know what they mean.
You even tell her how your parents had hit you. It slips out, it wasn’t something you intended to share but you said it and it was too late to take it back. The moment the sentence leaves your mouth Janine’s face is filled with anger and followed by a look of hurt and compassion, the standard look of pity. Pity was something you saw often, when you mentioned you didn’t speak to your parents or siblings, pity was always the look everyone gave you.
You try to move quickly past mentioning the physical abuse you endured, instead you tell her how you were able to hide once you moved to Stanford, how you cut them off and haven’t seen or heard from them recently. When you finally stop talking the silence consumes the room, an uncomfortable tension sitting between the two of you.
“Can I hug you?” Janine asks, you only notice now that her eyes are glossy, filled with tears.
“Yeah.” You say as Janine opens her arms, letting you move into her. You’re practically laying in her lap hugging her. Her arms feel safe, they wrap tightly around you, holding you close.
“I am so sorry, you didn’t deserve any of that, no one does.” She says. “I had no idea.”
“No one does, it’s not something I usually share.” You mumble into her shirt.
The two of you stay like that, on the couch, her holding you tightly, you hugging her back, trying to relax yourself as much as you can. It feels like an hour passes by the time you decide to push yourself off of her.
“Do you want to talk anymore?”
“I don’t know.” You shrug. It was nice talking to her, finally letting it all out, but at the same time it was emotionally exhausting reliving those memories just to tell her.
She nods and smiles at you. “Okay, can I ask you some things and if you don’t want to answer you don’t have to?”
“Yeah, sure.” It wasn’t like you had much left to hide at this point, you had fully exposed yourself to Janine, a couple more questions couldn’t hurt.
“Do you think you have feelings for a girl? Is that why you’re suddenly feeling like this?”
You shrug at her. “Maybe, I don’t know, it’s confusing, there’s different feelings, but I don’t know what they are, I think I’m just confused.”
“Okay, that’s fine, you don’t have to know what the feelings are or what they mean.” Her reassurance made you feel at ease, she wasn’t here to pry, to tell you to figure it out, she was hear to listen. She pauses for a moment before looking at you. “Is that girl Jessie?”
The mention of her name has your stomach turning with a mix of nerves and butterflies. You let your eyes meet hers for a moment, silently telling her she was right. Janine slowly nods at you, a small smile starts to creep across her lips which she quickly bites away.
“Okay.” Janine says. “That’s it, I’m done pestering you. I’m not going to ask what happened at the wedding, that’s obviously between the two of you, but if you do want to talk about her, you can, I won’t mention it to her.”
“Thank you.”
“For pestering you?” Janine says with a smile.
“No, for coming over, for checking on me.” You hadn’t been a fan when she showed up, but the relief you felt currently was unbelievable. It was like a weight that had been on your shoulders for years was a little bit lighter, someone knew your past, all of it. Even if it was one single person, it made a difference.
“You’re my little rookie, I’m always looking out for you.” She says a hand patting your thigh.
“Please don’t tell anyone.” You quickly request, realizing now that while you’d only told one person, that meant your biggest secret was no longer a secret.
“I wouldn’t, nothing we talked about will leave this room. Do you want me to at least let Jessie know I checked with you and you’re alright?”
“I think it would be better coming from me, I need to talk to her.” You didn’t want to talk to her, but it had been long enough, you were being selfish avoiding her, especially after she had cared enough to send Janine to check on you.
“Okay.” Janine nods. “Do you want me to go now? I know that was probably a lot. I’m sure you’re tired, you deserve a little rest.” She says starting to stand up from the couch.
“Can you stay? If not that’s okay, just I think having someone around would be nice.” You ask, the idea of being left alone in your silent apartment with your thoughts was a little too overwhelming at the moment.
“I can stay as long as you need.”
Janine stays for a few hours, the two of you play cards, she helps you tidy you apartment much to your refusal. You had made the mess in your state of chaos, she shouldn’t have to clean it, but she did anyway. You helped, tidying each room until it resembled a clean, livable space.
You then insisted Janine head home, feeling better about yourself and your mental well being, you could handle the rest of the night. As you walked Janine toward the door you thanked her again for coming to check on you.
“It’s really no big deal, we’re friends, I’m always going to take care of my friends.” She says slipping on her shoes. “If you ever need to talk again, I’m here.”
“Thank you.” As Janine goes to grab the door you speak up. “I’m going to talk to her, to Jessie.”
Janine nods at you. “Can I give you advice?” You nod letting her continue. “Just be honest with her, as honest as you can be or feel comfortable being. I know that I don’t know what happened, but she’s pretty understanding, if she did something to upset you I’m sure she didn’t mean it, just how I’m sure you didn’t mean to upset her if that’s the case.”
“Thanks.” You say, a tight lipped smile on your face. You had been able to avoid the fact that you had to talk to Jessie after this. You held open the door for Janine.
“I love ya kid, if you need me I’m just a call away.”
When you close the door you're left with a deafening silence. You look to the counter top where your phone sat. You had to talk to her. Wandering over you pick up your phone, staring at the screen as you try to force yourself to unlock it.
You finally swipe your thumb across the screen and make your way into your texts. Scrolling to find Jessie’s name and clicking on it, finally opening almost weeks worth of ignored texts. You had read most of them through the notification but you skimmed them again.
Most of them were her asking to talk to you, a couple of apologies, a couple offers to take you to coffee. The most recent text just asked if you were okay. You felt guilty reading back the texts, Jessie had been nothing but caring and concerned about you after what had happened, after you had run away from her. You hadn’t bothered to check on her once.
You took a deep breath as your thumb hovered over the call button, you could make it easy and just text her, but this didn’t seem like a text conversation. You feel your thumb make contact with the screen and before you know it the phone is ringing. It rings, and rings, and rings. Just before you’re convinced it will go to voicemail, the ringing stops.
“Hello?” Jessie’s voice comes through the line.
“Uh.” You panic for a moment at the sound of her voice. “Hi. Can we talk?”
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for a week now.”
“I know and I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to talk, but I think I am now.”
“Okay, then talk.” You can hear the obvious frustration and annoyance in Jessie’s voice, her words coming out sharper than usual.
“Um.” You can’t even begin to find out where to start. You let a silence fall on the line, trying to sort your thoughts, you can hear Jessie moving around for a moment before there’s silence again. You sit, drowning in the silence, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts and also feeling completely empty. “Do you want to come over?”
“Tonight, it’s kinda late is it not?”
“I was thinking tomorrow? Whatever works, I just, I think this would be better in person. I owe you that.” You also didn’t mind the fact that tomorrow would buy you a couple of hours to prepare for what you were going to say to her.
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
“Okay. Ten tomorrow morning sound okay?”
“Sure.” It was uncharacteristic the way Jessie was being short with you.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.” You tried to sound as if you were excited to see her, and part of you was. You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t also terrified at the idea of seeing Jessie again and talking to her.
“Okay.”
“Bye Jessie.” She doesn’t say goodbye, or even bye at all, you instead are met with the beeping of the call ending. You put your phone down before bringing your hands to your face, rubbing them hard down from your forehead to your neck as you let out a huge breath.
You now had to think of exactly what you wanted to say to her, and exactly what you didn’t want to say to her in less than 12 hours.
188 notes · View notes