#I love writing so much. I have so much power

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[mononijikayu]

marry you — ryomen sukuna.

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?" Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!" Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: safe for work (sfw), fluff, family, slice of life, family dynamic, light hearted, domestic, romance, banter, humour, physical touch, happy ending, hurt/comfort, depictions of family dynamic, depiction of anxiety, depiction of slice of life, boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji, i love you nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words

NOTE: the people have spoken and ryomen sukuna won my poll (again!!!)~ this is the final (maybe) installment of amnesia and a day in a life . reader and sukuna have been together for a while after this. they're much happier and healthy here. yuji loves his unckuna and auntie!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it. i had a ball writing this because i just, this was fun. seeing sukuna be silly. anyway i love you all!!! see you in the next one <3 also @midnight-138, this is for you, im sorry for my angsty writing <3

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if you want to, tip!

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THERE WAS NEVER A TIME IN HIS LIFE THAT ANYTHING WAS NOT MEASURED. Ryomen Sukuna had always lived by the belief that precision and decisiveness were the cornerstones of strength. His brother, Jin, was the opposite in that regard.

Jin was easygoing, someone who flowed through life with a relaxed confidence. That’s how he had ended up casually taking his wife Kaori’s name without a second thought after marriage, something that had never sat well with Sukuna. 

It wasn’t that Sukuna found it disrespectful; rather, he simply couldn't understand how someone could relinquish a piece of themselves so easily. To Sukuna, names held power, identity, and control. They were not to be changed on a whim.

And most of all, it was who he was. If his brother was going to let the name die, who would continue it? Yet maybe, that’s besides the point. Because it wasn’t the point.

The point was this — Ryomen Sukuna found himself in an unusual position, plagued by doubt. Unlike his brother, who easily adapted and made decisions without looking back, Sukuna was being dragged through an internal war, and this was uncharted territory for him.

He had always been sure—sure of his choices, sure of his actions, sure of his strength. Whether in battle or in the mundane aspects of life, he operated with an unshakable conviction. It had defined him for so long.

Except now, with the ring in his hand, everything felt different. 

For months, Sukuna had been reduced to a more fragile version of himself, struggling with emotions he thought he had long buried, emotions he used to scoff at as weakness.

But this—this wasn’t a trivial matter, not something he could merely slice through with a sharp blade or dismiss with his usual unyielding demeanor. This wasn’t about power or domination. It was about vulnerability, commitment, and the gravity of the choice he was about to make.

The ring wasn’t just a symbol; it was a testament to something far deeper. Sukuna had never hesitated before. But for the first time, he was wrestling with fear—the fear of being vulnerable, of giving a piece of himself away, just as his brother had done so easily. But was it really a weakness? Or had he, all this time, misunderstood the strength it took to let someone in?

He had bought it months ago. A shimmering band, simple yet unmistakably meaningful, one that carried the weight of everything he had come to feel for you. Every glance, every brush of your hand, every laugh—each moment had woven itself into the threads of his existence. And now, here he was, staring at this small, ridiculous piece of jewelry like it was the most dangerous object in the world.

He wanted to propose.

He had never wanted anything so badly in his life. He wanted to tell you, to kneel (a position he never imagined himself in) and offer you the promise of forever. The thought was absurd, wasn’t it? Him kneeling before someone?

Yet for you, the idea seemed... right. He didn’t just want you; he wanted to spend the rest of his days making you happy, something he had never imagined himself capable of until you.

And that’s what drove him mad.

He didn’t know how to do it. How was a man like him supposed to express something so fragile? Words weren’t his strong suit, and even if he could gather them, they always seemed to fall short when it came to you. How could he ever explain the storm of emotions, the way you’d carved a place for yourself in his blackened heart? The very thought of it made his fingers clenched into fists.

The timing, too—it was never right. Every time he thought he might do it, something held him back. What if he wasn’t enough? What if, despite everything, you said no? The ring burned in his pocket like a curse of its own, a reminder of everything he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Ryomen Sukuna who’s been in delinquent clubs, who’s been the most fearsome wrestler and now undefeated weightlifter — who has done anything, and yet never been frightened. Not at all. But proposing to you? That terrified him.

Sukuna wasn’t used to nerves, but ever since he bought that ring, they seemed to follow him everywhere. And as much as he hated to admit it, Sukuna was struggling. So, he decided he was going to get this over with—no more overthinking. How hard could it be, really? It was just a proposal. 

Attempt one: At dinner.

The scene was set. A quiet, candlelit dinner at your favorite restaurant. It was your birthday. No perfect day, right? It was everything that you could ever want. It was intimate, it was heartfelt and it was just completely perfect.

Ryomen Sukuna had been uncharacteristically calm the whole night, which should have tipped you off that something was up. Between bites of your meal, you saw him fiddling with something in his pocket. Your face scrunches at the sight of him. And then your boyfriend cleared his throat—a sound that, for someone as confident as him, felt almost foreign.

“So, baby….” he began, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked just a bit. “How would you feel about spending the rest of your life—”

Suddenly, the waiter appeared with a massive tray of dessert samples.

“Would you like to try our seasonal—”

Sukuna glared at the waiter, his red eye twitching as the moment slipped through his fingers. You tried to stifle your laugh as the waiter, completely oblivious, kept talking about tiramisu. Sukuna nearly cursed the man on the spot, but instead, he dropped the conversation. That’s just as one would say — strike one.

Attempt two: Movie night.

Alright, he thought, a more relaxed setting would be better. Just you, him, and some stupid romantic movie you insisted on watching. This was just as intimate as the first one, but maybe a little bit more animated. Still, it was just between you two.

He thinks you would love it like this. The ring was ready in his hoodie pocket, and halfway through the movie, as the cheesy proposal scene played out on the screen, he thought, This is it. This is the moment.

But just as he leaned closer to you, reaching for the ring, the actor on screen dropped to one knee in front of the actress, who acted stunned. Everyone around the actors gasped and started freaking out and clapping. You groaned, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it.

“Oh my god, if anyone ever proposed to me like that!” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry baby, but I ain’t that gal. I’d die of second-hand embarrassment.”

Your boyfriend Sukuna froze, hand halfway to his pocket, and quickly pretended he was just stretching. He slumped back on the couch, gritting his teeth.

Not like that, got it.

Attempt three: At the gym.

This was it. No more romantic crap—just you and him doing something you both enjoyed. He’d taken you to the gym, your regular workout routine in full swing. He figured the casual vibe would work, that maybe he could just slip the proposal into conversation like it was no big deal. Everything about this was perfect. Everything was going to go the way he wanted. Yup, that’s how it will go.

The problem? Sukuna wasn’t built for “casual.” 

He spotted you while you were doing squats, casually throwing out, “You know… we should, uh, work on something long-term together, baby.”

“Huh? A long term plan?” You huffed back at him, your brows furrowed.

“I mean….something concrete. Like….like, something for us, you know? A long time.”

You blinked up at him, catching your breath. “Like a couple’s fitness plan?”

“Or... you know... life. Forever. Together.”

You squinted at him. “Are you feeling okay, baby? You sound delirious.”

He muttered something about “too many reps” and practically sprinted to the other side of the gym, leaving you utterly confused. Everyone was just as confused. You looked at the store clerk, Uraume but they just shrugged at you. You guess it was just one of those days.

Attempt four: The kitchen.

Ryomen Sukuna had woken up that morning and decided today’s the day. He was done failing, and he wasn’t going to overthink it anymore. He could do this. He knows he can. It wasn’t rocket science. People proposed all the time, and somehow they survived. And it happens, it ends up happening. Everything after that always ends up in a wedding. Yeah, he can do this. 

You were making breakfast, humming to yourself, when Sukuna casually strolled into the kitchen, the ring in his pocket yet again. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. You were the only person who could make something as mundane as cracking eggs look beautiful. 

You looked up to him and smiled, greeting him sweetly. God, you were so beautiful. You looked like you were made from heaven. A genuine angel, as you asked him if he wanted coffee. He mumbled back and cleared his throat. You moved over to the other counter and started the coffee machine.

“Hey, babe.” he began, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was an odd edge to his voice. “How do you feel about... I don’t know... spending the rest of your life with me?”

Without looking up, you shrugged. “Sounds good. Can you pass me the salt?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—what?”

You finally glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “I said, yeah, sounds good. Now the salt, please?”

Sukuna stood there, frozen. Was that a yes? Did you even know he was proposing?

You stared at him, still waiting for the salt shaker. When he didn’t move, you walked over and grabbed it yourself. “Thanks, big guy.” you said with a playful smile, clearly unaware that Sukuna had just (sort of) proposed.  “Now, do you want some avocado on your toast today or nah?”

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. It was hard for him to be angry with you either. You were too cute. Another failure.

Attempt five: The supermarket.

The ring still in his pocket, Ryomen Sukuna was now truly desperate. At this point, he was just winging it. You were both running errands, and as you reached for a carton of eggs in the store, he thought, Screw it. There were no romantic backdrops, no candles, no cheesy movie scenes—just the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. Your day to day. Nothing too much. This was now or never.

“Listen, baby.” he said, his tone more urgent than usual. “What if we just—”

At that moment, a kid ran by with a cart, ramming it right into Sukuna’s leg. A light groan came out of Sukuna as the kid’s eyes grew wide. Sukuna’s eyes turned dark as he glared at the kid. The kid swallowed the bile down his throat. As he was about to move, you called Sukuna. The kid let out a yelp and started pushing his cart. 

The child screamed, “Sorry, mister!” and ran off, leaving your boyfriend in a state of pandemonium.

You, still holding the eggs, glanced at him for a moment and burst out laughing.

He sighed, slumping against the shelf. “I’m never going to get this right, am I?”

You smiled, stepping closer and poking his chest. “Get what right, baby?”

Sukuna glanced at the ring still burning in his pocket and grumbled, “Nothing. Just... forget it.”

You didn’t push him, but your knowing smile told him you weren’t entirely clueless. Maybe you had been waiting all along. Maybe, despite all his ridiculous failed attempts, you already knew what was coming. 

Maybe, the next time he tried, you’d say yes before he even finished his sentence.

And maybe, that was exactly what he needed to hear.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

HIS MOTHER USED TO SAY THAT OLDER BROTHERS KNEW BEST. But in all his life, Ryomen Sukuna liked to pride himself never needing to end up asking his elder brother for advice. Or any help at all, if he was being honest. The scarlet eyed man never liked having his brother do things for him. He doesn’t like owing anyone anything. 

Because Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for asking anyone for advice—especially not about matters of the heart. 

But after months of failed attempts, Sukuna could only find himself sitting in his brother Jin’s living room, slouched on the couch with his hands pressed against his face. He had to give in and concede to what his mother said. His brother knew best. And he should ask him. The ring still weighed heavy in his pocket, mocking him at every turn. His mother’s nagging words came to him, almost as though she would still be pinching his ear. Maybe if you asked your brother, you wouldn’t be suffering like this!

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, bro.” Sukuna muttered, his voice low, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been trying for months, bro. Months. Every time I think I’ve got it right, something goes wrong. I’ve got the ring. I’ve got the words. But I don’t know... it’s like nothing’s perfect enough. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Jin, ever calm and collected compared to his fiery younger brother, chuckled from across the room. He sat in his armchair, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking up from the book he had been reading. “You’re overthinking it, Kuna.”

“Overthinking?” Sukuna scoffed, sitting up and glaring at his brother. “I can’t just walk up and throw the ring at the love of my life, you know? They deserve something... more from me. I want it to be perfect.”

Jin set his book down and leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning up in a nostalgic smile. “You know, I went through something similar when I proposed to Kaori.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “You? Really? You seem so... calm about all of this.”

Jin laughed, shaking his head. “Calm? Hardly. I was a wreck. I had all these elaborate plans I worked really hard on. I thought I’d propose on a sunset beach or during some elegant dinner. But none of it worked out the way I thought.”

Sukuna frowned, curious despite himself. “So what did you do?”

Jin scratched the back of his head, clearly amused by the memory. “We were on a road trip—just a spontaneous one. I think that’s when we decided to go north. We got lost. The car broke down multiple times in the middle of nowhere, and it started pouring rain. Hard. We were soaked, stuck under a leaky gas station awning, of all places. There was nothing romantic about all of it. And yet…..well, it was what it was.”

Sukuna stared at him, baffled. “That sounds terrible.”

“It was, little brother.” Jin agreed, grinning. “But Kaori laughed through the whole thing. She thought it was hilarious. And that’s when I realized—there wasn’t going to be a perfect moment. So, I just asked her. Right there, soaking wet, covered in mud and all the dirt in the world. I didn’t even have the ring on me because I’d left it in the car. But I asked anyway.”

“And she said yes?” Sukuna asked, still trying to wrap his mind around how his brother had managed to pull that off.

Jin nodded with a wide smile. “Without hesitation. Because, little brother, it didn’t matter where we were or how it looked. What mattered was that I was asking her to spend her life with me. She didn’t care about the setting or the way I asked. She just cared about me. And wanting to continue loving me. So, she just said yes. Damn the world or what was good. She just…wanted me.”

Sukuna exhaled, leaning back again and letting that sink in. “I just... I don’t know if I can be that casual about it. I want the love of my life to love it. I want it to be... memorable.”

Jin leaned forward, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Kuna. It just has to be you. And about your love together. If sis in law does love you, it’ll be great no matter what. It will just happen. Trust me.”

Sukuna sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch. “I hope you’re right. I just—” 

Before he could finish, the door to the room burst open, and Yuji bounced in, grinning from ear to ear. He was still dressed in his football uniform. “Uncle Sukuna! I heard you’re going to propose! Let me help!”

Sukuna groaned. The kid had such good ears, damn him. “Oi, brat! This is... it’s not something I need help with.’specially not from you! It’s—”

“Oh, come on! I’ve got great ideas, unc! We can do fireworks, or... or maybe we can surprise auntie with, like, a whole flash mob at the mall!” Yuji’s excitement was contagious, but Sukuna could feel a headache forming at the thought of any of those ideas. “I think auntie will love it, you know?”

“No flash mobs, Yuji.”

Yuji pouted for a moment, but then his face brightened again. “Okay, okay, what about a treasure hunt? Like, you leave little clues everywhere, and the final clue leads to you with the ring! I mean, auntie would love that! Auntie’s always been someone who likes puzzles!”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jin, who was barely hiding his laughter behind his hand. His brother was enjoying this little misery of his. His nephew’s barely thirteen and yet he’s got the idealistic mind. Too much like his brother, Sukuna thinks. But then again, his mother’s the same sort of human being. 

“Hey brat, I don’t think your auntie appreciates getting dragged across the city just to find me with a ring at the end.” Sukuna said, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. “Auntie would get tired really fast then ask where’s the nearest soda shop.”

Yuji shrugged. “Well, whatever you do, it’ll be awesome. You’re awesome! Auntie will totally say yes.” He gave Sukuna a thumbs up, his usual boundless optimism shining through. “I mean, auntie’s been with you too long, so it's just bound to settle like that.”

“Wait, what do you mean settle—”

“Hey, hey! I didn’t mean anything mean about it.” Yuji pouted at his uncle defensively. “You know that much, unc! I love seeing you and auntie together.”

Sukuna shook his head at his nephew, though a small, begrudging smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, brat.”

Jin, watching the exchange, nodded in agreement. “See, Kuna? It doesn’t matter how you do it. It’ll be great, because it’s coming from you.”

Sukuna sighed, feeling the weight of the ring in his pocket one more time. “I guess... I’ll just have to stop thinking so much and go for it.”

Yuji’s grin stretched even wider. “That’s the spirit now, unc! And if you change your mind about the flash mob, I’m totally in.”

Sukuna chuckled despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuji, still bouncing with excitement, suddenly lit up with an idea. "Oh! I know! Why don’t you come and coach my football team for a day? You can do it there!" 

Sukuna blinked, utterly baffled by the suggestion. "Coach... football? What are you talking about, brat?"

Yuji was practically vibrating with energy now. "It’s perfect! You can come to practice, and we’ll, I don’t know, pretend something happened—like, I could pretend I twisted my ankle or something—and then, boom! You step in, gather everyone around, and propose! Auntie will be there all excited to be there and cheer us and you on."

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?"

Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!"

Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

But before he could properly dismiss the idea, Jin let out a hearty laugh from his chair. “Why not, little brother? It’s certainly different. Do you have any better ideas?” 

Sukuna shot him a look, but Jin just grinned. He could see his brother’s frustration boiling over, but there was also something else—maybe Sukuna was finally realizing that no moment was ever going to feel perfect. Not in the way he imagined.

“Come on, come on.” Jin said, still chuckling. “I mean, think about it. It’s so out of character for you that it might actually work. A little spontaneity never hurts anyone.”

Sukuna rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “You really think I should just... go to a football practice and pop the question in front of a bunch of sweaty teenagers?”

Yuji jumped in again, totally on board with his own wild idea. “Yeah! And I’ll totally sell it—I’ll limp off the field, everyone will be worried, and then you step up like a hero. I can already picture it!” He waved his arms dramatically, trying to sell the scene. "It’ll be epic."

Jin crossed his arms, his grin still plastered on his face. "It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s definitely memorable. And isn’t that what you wanted?"

Sukuna sighed, the absurdity of it all weighing on him. Coaching Yuji’s football team, of all things, to propose? He couldn’t believe this was even a conversation. Yet, as ridiculous as it sounded, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it might actually work.

Not because it was perfect—but because it was so wildly unexpected that it would leave you speechless. Maybe, after all these failed attempts, that was what he needed.

Still, he grumbled, "If this goes wrong, I’m cursing both of you."

Yuji laughed, slinging an arm over Sukuna’s shoulder, clearly unfazed by the threat. "It’s going to be great, Unc Sukuna! Trust me!"

Jin, still leaning back in his chair, raised an eyebrow. "So, is that a yes? You’re actually going to do this, little brother? No more backing out?”

Sukuna slumped back on the couch, rubbing his temples. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... yeah. Fine. Let’s try it your way, Yuji."

Yuji fist-pumped the air, grinning ear to ear. "Yes! This is going to be amazing. I can’t wait to see their faces when you finally propose!"

Sukuna let out a deep sigh, glancing at Jin one last time. His older brother gave him an encouraging nod. What does he have left to lose? If anything, if it works — maybe you’ll laugh it off. And he…he likes seeing you smile anyway. What does he have left to lose?

“You’re overthinking it again, little brother.” Jin reminded him. “Just do it, hm? It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna could only hope his brother was right.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THE NEXT DAY, YOU DIDN’T FEEL LIKE GOING TO WORK. So, you had decided to stay lazily at home with Sukuna and just enjoy his day off together. Well, it worked out better considering that Sukuna informed your office you’ll be out for a while anyway. You happily hummed as you started making your cup of matcha milk for yourself. So far everything was well. In fact, the day had been going pretty normally. 

But then you could only blink at him when Sukuna, of all people, approached you in the kitchen, casually leaning against the counter. He looked... slightly awkward, which was unusual for him. His scarlet eyes darted away for a moment before landing back on you.

“Hey, baby….” he said, almost too casually. “You wanna come to Yuji’s football game tomorrow?”

You blinked in surprise. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the type to invite you to these things. Usually, Yuji was the one who asked, and then Sukuna would begrudgingly tag along, acting like he was too cool to care. But now, he was asking you directly?

“You’re asking me to go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “And also….you wanna go?”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Is that... a problem or something?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to hide your smile. “No, not at all. I’d love to go. It’s just... surprising coming from you. Usually, you wait until Yuji begs you to show up.”

Sukuna shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing just a bit. “Yeah, well... I’m gonna be more involved this time.”

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward. “What do you mean? Like, are you finally going to cheer from the sidelines instead of pretending not to care?”

He looked away again, mumbling under his breath, “I’m coaching the team.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Wait, what?”

Sukuna shot you a look, already regretting this conversation. “You heard me. I’m gonna be their coach... for the game. Just a trial…..It’s just…. Maybe a one time thing.”

The shock only lasted a second before you burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The image of Sukuna, towering and intimidating, trying to coach a bunch of high school kids was just too much. It was all too much for you to think about your boyfriend. He crossed his arms on his chest like a little kid.

“Stop laughing.” he grumbled, clearly annoyed but also embarrassed.

You waved a hand, trying to catch your breath. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’m just... I’m just imagining you barking orders at those poor kids like you do with your clients at the gym.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you, crossing his arms. “That’s not how I coach at the gym.”

“Oh really?” you teased, still giggling. “You’re not going to stand on the sidelines, yelling ‘Run faster, you idiot!’ and ‘Stop slacking off, sweat it off!’ like you do with your trainees?”

“Of course not, babe.” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips now. “Those brats won’t know what hit them.”

Your laughter continued, but now it was filled with genuine amusement. “I can’t wait to see this. You, coaching a bunch of teenagers, pretending to know anything about football. Oh, this will be gold, baby. I’m in!”

Sukuna groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’re really not helping, you know.”

“I’m sorry baby.” you said, still grinning as you put a thumb up. “I just can’t picture it without laughing. But hey, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He grumbled under his breath again, but you could see the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’d better not laugh when you see me out there.”

“No promises here, baby.” you teased, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But I’ll be there, front and center, cheering you on.”

Ryomen Sukuna rolled his eyes, but the blush creeping up his neck told you everything you needed to know. Despite his gruff demeanor, he was secretly pleased. And maybe—just maybe—this ridiculous plan wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

You know Yuji loves some good orange juice, so you brought cold packs of that in the cooler too. You supposed you could say that you were more excited than most. You had the full gear from their team and everything. It was something you requested from Sukuna and he got it for you before yesterday, when he got his own uniform. 

YOU DIDN’T SLEEP A WINK. But you couldn’t help it. You were too excited. The practices wee nice but each time you had to leave earlier for work. But this time, you got to have a full day just being there. These past few days, Sukuna's been in a gloom but he reassured you that its nothing. You wanted to press, but you knew your boyfriend too well to pry.

You were just one excited soul to be here. It was the tournament league now. And Yuji's team made it through the finals. You brought packs of snacks for you and Sukuna, some for the kids too in case their moms didn’t have anything on them. Some cold drinks too.

And now, you found yourself standing by the field, watching as Sukuna walked out with the team. The sun was brilliantly bright, and there was a decent crowd, mostly parents and students, filling the bleachers.

But your beaming eyes were glued to the unlikely sight before you: Ryomen Sukuna, your intimidating, tough-as-nails partner, now wearing a whistle around his neck and a deeply annoyed expression as he dealt with a bunch of teenage boys.

You could see precious Itadori Yuji bouncing around excitedly, clearly thrilled that Sukuna had agreed to coach. The rest of the team, however, seemed slightly nervous under Sukuna’s intense gaze.

Yuji’s two close friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, didn’t seem to care and were just playing with the balls and gloves, tossing to each other. But their nonchalant behavior was a stark contrast from everyone else. Some of them glanced back at you, probably wondering why this mountain of a man was suddenly in charge. But you don’t blame any of them. Your boyfriend did look imposing. 

Sukuna blew the whistle sharply, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing again. He barked out orders like a drill sergeant, his deep voice carrying across the field. “You—stop dragging your feet! Move it! You think this is a joke? Pick up the pace!”

You couldn’t help but lean against the fence, shaking your head with a smile. Well, you were right. It was exactly as you had imagined—Sukuna treating this football practice like a high-intensity training session at the gym. The kids were all scrambling around, trying their best not to get on his bad side.

After a particularly harsh instruction, you caught his scarlet eye from across the field. He gave you a look, clearly daring you to laugh, and you had to press your lips together to keep from cracking up. When you got it together, you started clapping and cheering for him. And for a moment, you could see a scarlet tint flush on your boyfriend’s cheek. That had made you smile.

During a water break, Yuji came jogging over, grinning from ear to ear. “How’s Unc Sukuna doing, Auntie? He’s totally killing it, right?”

You smiled and raised an eyebrow. “He’s certainly... in charge. The team looks a little terrified, though. Well, except Nobara and Megumi.”

Yuji chuckled, not even a little bit phased. “Yeah, but they’ll respect him. He’s making them work harder than our regular coach.”

You glanced back at Sukuna, who was currently standing with his arms crossed, scowling as one of the players asked him a question. He looked like he belonged in a weightlifting competition, not on a football field. Your boyfriend could have done so many things, you knew. But he said he got bored of it all, since people keep telling him what to do. But either way, your boyfriend would have ended up looking like this. This hunk of muscular muscle. 

“Well, as long as no one cries, I think it’ll be a success, Yuji!” you teased.

Yuji laughed and then leaned in closer. “So, do you think they suspect anything yet?”

You raised an eyebrow. You were confused. “About what?”

He gave you a mischievous look, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. “You know... Uncle Sukuna’s plan. The proposal.”

You blinked, your smile fading as confusion washed over you. Wait, hold on. Was Yuji talking about Sukuna’s proposal to expand the gym? He’d been telling you about that for months now, outlining every detail, every plan. Surely Sukuna hadn’t forgotten.

“Wait. That’s today?” you asked, half-expecting to hear more about Sukuna's latest gym renovation idea. 

But something in Yuji’s expression didn’t quite fit the usual conversation. His grin widened, almost teasing. You suddenly had the sinking feeling you might not be on the same page at all. But just as you were going to go and talk to him about it, the whistle blew again, and the game began. Yuji saluted you and ran off to the field once again.

You tried to keep your eyes on the match, the sounds of cheers and the smack of fists hitting against gloves filling the air, but your mind was elsewhere. Sukuna’s plan. It kept creeping into your thoughts, pulling your focus away from the fight.

He had been working tirelessly on the gym expansion for months, meticulously coordinating every detail. The proposal with the contractor was a major step, one he had been looking forward to with a mix of excitement and that quiet intensity he always had when he wanted something done perfectly.

But now, you couldn’t shake the worry creeping up your spine. If Yuji’s casual comment about the proposal meant what you thought it did, then something had gone wrong. Sukuna must have missed the meeting with the contractor. Your boyfriend never missed important business meetings, especially not one like this, which was practically the culmination of weeks of hard work and planning. 

You bit your lip, your gaze flickering back to the field, but all you could think about was Sukuna. His sense of control, of always being on top of things—what could have possibly distracted him? And why hadn’t he told you? Maybe you could’ve reminded him or helped him juggle things better. 

Your stomach tightened with unease. Sukuna wasn’t the type to slip up like this, not unless something bigger was weighing on him. You’d seen the way he had been acting recently—distracted, quieter than usual, though he would shrug it off if you ever asked. Was this just about the proposal, or was there something else, something deeper he hadn’t shared yet?

As the game continued, it became even more intense, but not nearly as intense as the look Sukuna had on his face as he barked orders from the sidelines. You could see him glancing your way every now and then, his jaw set, his eyes determined. This was insane, even for a league of teenagers in middle school. But you suppose that’s what happens when you put your boyfriend to coach on the field.

As the game drew to a close, with Yuji’s team pulling off a narrow victory, you noticed Sukuna’s posture shift. He was still his usual composed self, but there was something nervous about the way he kept adjusting the whistle around his neck. He takes a moment for a breath. 

When the final whistle blew and the players began congratulating each other, Ryomen Sukuna called out to them. “Alright, listen up! Get over here. I’ve got something to say.”

The entire team gathered around him, and you stood at the edge of the field, your heart pounding as you watched the scene unfold. You could see Yuji trying (and failing) to hide his excitement as he joined the group. Everything about was making you feel like you were going to lose it.

Sukuna cleared his throat, looking oddly serious. “There’s someone here today who’s... important to me.”

The players exchanged confused glances, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you realized he was talking about you.

Sukuna continued, his voice a little gruffer than usual. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I’ve been trying really hard to make this happen. I really have been. And I just…I’ve been thinking, to hell with it. We might as well go through with it. Even if it's going to be too much and lame.” He shot a pointed look at Yuji, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Your heart was racing now, and you could feel the eyes of the team turning toward you. Sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box from his pockets. He opened it and you could clearly see it. There was something small and shiny inside of it. 

“This…..” he said, holding up the ring for everyone to see. “ This is what I’ve been working up the nerve to do for months.”

The entire field went dead silent. The team, the parents in the stands—everyone was watching.

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes finally met yours, and in that moment, all the tough, intimidating layers seemed to peel away. He stepped toward you in the bleachers, his beautiful face softening as he held the ring in his hand.

“I’m not good at speeches. Or, apparently, proposals.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but smile through the nerves. “But I know one thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The world seemed to blur around you as Sukuna knelt down, holding out the ring. “So, what do you say?”

Your heart swelled as you took in the sight of him—this fierce, stubborn man who had somehow, in his own awkward way, found the perfect moment. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes as you whispered the only answer you could give.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, with Yuji practically jumping up and down as the team whooped and clapped. Sukuna stood, slipping the ring onto your finger, and pulled you into a tight embrace, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “Told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

You laughed softly, wiping away a tear. “It was more than perfect.”

Ryomen Sukuna grinned, leaning down to kiss you as the noise of the crowd faded into the background. Everything about the past? That didn’t matter at all now. Because all this, this is what mattered. After all that you both went through, after all that happens — everything was well. Because he was going to marry you. 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

epilogue

As Sukuna pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours, the cheers and whistles from the crowd surrounded you both. Yuji, of course, was the loudest, pumping his fists in the air and hyping up the team, who were now clapping and laughing at the unexpected turn of events.

“Unc Sukuna’s engaged!” Yuji shouted, jumping onto the field. “Best day ever!”

You pulled back slightly from the kiss, your face flushed and your heart still racing, meeting Sukuna’s gaze. His scarlet eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, standing in the middle of a whirlwind of noise and celebration. He took your hand, where the ring sat on your finger and placed a small kiss upon it. You grew even more flustered.

Sukuna sighed, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

You chuckled, brushing a hand against his cheek. “Believe it. You just proposed in front of an entire football team.”

He groaned slightly, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Nope. But I love that you did it.”

His arms tightened around you for a moment before he pulled back, glancing at the team who were still buzzing with excitement. He gave them a half-hearted glare. “Alright, enough gawking. Get off the field. We still have a game to win.”

The boys quickly scattered, though you could see the smirks and murmurs they exchanged as they left. Megumi and Nobara were snickering at how soft their coach Sukuna was looking at you. Your nephew Yuji, of course, was the last one standing there, grinning like an idiot.

“So, Unc Sukuna,” Yuji said, nudging his uncle’s arm. “How’d it feel to propose in front of an audience? Pretty cool, huh?”

Sukuna shot him a deadpan look. “Brat, don’t think I’ve forgotten this was your idea.”

Yuji only grinned wider, completely unfazed. “But it worked! Look at that ring! And look at auntie’s face!” He pointed to you, beaming. “You guys are the cutest engaged couple ever!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yuji, stop embarrassing your uncle.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, shaking his head in exasperation. “You’ve been spending too much time around Gojo, I swear to god.” he muttered under his breath, glancing at Yuji with mock annoyance. “I better tell your dad to never let you back in Fushiguro’s house.”

Yuji just shrugged. “Hey, I’m just a romantic at heart. I love seeing love win!”

Before Sukuna could retaliate, his elder brother Jin appeared from the sidelines, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder. “See? I told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna let out a long sigh, shooting Jin a look. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you were right.”

Jin raised an amused brow. “Guess?”

“Fine, fine.” Sukuna grumbled, a reluctant smirk forming. “You were right.”

Jin grinned. “That’s more like it. And for what it’s worth, little brother, you pulled it off pretty damn well. Look at that, you’re getting married. I’m so proud of you, hm?”

Sukuna grunted, still not entirely comfortable with the praise, but you could see the tension slowly leave his body. He wasn’t one to bask in sentimental moments, but for this one, he was letting himself enjoy it. 

“Thanks….big brother.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go back to the bleachers. Kaori’s gonna get lonely.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s meet down here so we can have dinner together.”

Jin grinned. “Oh, you’re paying tonight?”

“Oh, don’t think too far like that, big brother.”

Yuji, still full of energy, suddenly clapped his hands together. “Alright! Since you two are officially engaged, I think it’s time we celebrate!”

You glanced at Sukuna, who rolled his eyes but didn’t object. “Sure, why not?” he said with a shrug. “But I’m picking the place. No weird restaurants.”

Yuji pouted. “But there’s this ramen shop Gojo–sensei recommended—”

“No.” Sukuna said flatly, his tone brooking no argument.

You smiled, leaning into Sukuna’s side. “Wherever you want to go, we’ll go.”

Sukuna looked down at you, a rare warmth softening the usual intensity of his gaze. His voice, normally edged with authority, held a surprising tenderness. “I’ll think of something. Now go on. Go finish the game.”

You turned toward Yuji, who was standing there, clearly wanting to argue. “But unc—” he started, but Sukuna cut him off before he could finish.

“I said go!” Sukuna’s voice, firm but not unkind, sent Yuji running back to the field, his frustration bubbling over as he shouted, “It’s not fair!”

You watched Yuji dash off, his protests lost in the sound of his feet pounding the grass, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. He had always been full of energy, bouncing between enthusiasm and impatience, and Sukuna loved to tease him for it—though Yuji never seemed to take it lightly.

Turning back to your fiancé, you shot him a playful pout. “Must you tease him so much? He did help you propose, you know?”

Sukuna exhaled, a faint sigh escaping him as his hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Eh, He can handle a little teasing.”

You tilted your head, studying Sukuna’s face. Even though his words were casual, there was a deeper affection in them, one that wasn’t always so visible. Yuji, in his own way, had been a part of your lives, and you knew Sukuna cared for him more than he’d ever let on. But Sukuna’s way of showing love was always layered with a bit of roughness, teasing, and challenges—he never made things too easy, even for those closest to him.

“He’s just a kid,” you murmured, leaning into him, your pout softening as you placed your hands on his chest. “He looks up to you, you know.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Yeah, well, he should know by now I’m not gonna go easy on him.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile broke through your pout. “Maybe try cutting him some slack next time. You can’t torment him every time he tries to help.”

“Torment?” Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Come on, he loves it.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced toward the field, where Yuji was back in action, still muttering something under his breath. “Besides, if I didn’t push him, who would?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, giving his chest a playful shove. “Alright, alright. But don’t be too hard on him. He really did come through for us.”

Sukuna’s expression softened again, and he gave you a knowing look. “I know. I’ll make it up to him.”

As you both watch Jin go back to the bleachers with Kaori, you feel your fiance's arms wrap around you. Your hands intertwined and on top of his hand, was your own. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger, your heart swelling with happiness. 

Ryomen Sukuna had surprised you—more than you ever thought he would. And while it hadn’t been a grand, romantic gesture in a traditional sense, it had been perfect in the most Sukuna way possible. Unconventional, slightly chaotic, but undeniably heartfelt.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[bibuckkinard]

Reprieve

Hi again, it's me, I'm the problem, it's me. I really didn't intend to write anything tonight, but I have too many words in my head. This is another fic, this time super short and sweet, for @bucktommypositivityweek round two, day 4: supportive boyfriends. I hope you guys like it!

bucktommy - Words: 554 - Rating: T - Complete

Tommy thinks Evan looks hot like this, sweaty, hands taped and punching the pads Tommy's got attached to his hands as Evan hits right, left, right, left and rants. Too bad this rant is about a man who made Tommy's days at the 118 his most miserable days in the closet. "I don't know how much more I can handle," Evan pants out with one more hit before putting his hands on his hips and folding in on himself at the waist. “What was it today?” Tommy asks, not sure if he wants to know. Evan is silent for a moment then he stands to his full height and says, “He asked me if faeries like to fly on the top or the bottom.” Tommy thinks about that one. He knows what Gerrard is going for but- “That doesn’t even make sense.” Evan throws his hands up in frustration. “I know! Like, if you’re going to be homophobic, at least make it good!” “He’s probably running out of ideas at this point.” Evan blows out a breath. “I know you said you wanted to avoid telling me what to do here, but I’m going crazy.” Tommy moves forward to wrap his arms around Evan’s waist, pulling him in. Evan wraps his arms around him in turn and practically sags against Tommy, so much so that Tommy’s more or less holding him up. “I have avoided giving you advice about this because I’m just not sure I’m the right person to do it,” Tommy admits. “I dealt with him by staying closeted and being an asshole.” “You did that to survive,” Evan points out, not for the first time. “I know but I still don’t feel great about it.” “I know,” Evan says. “If you could do it differently, what would you do?” “What you’re already doing,” Tommy says instantly, then motions to Evan’s curly hair, which he stopped using straighteners on three days after Gerrard started. They’re adorable and currently ruffled from the practice but Tommy freaking loves running his fingers through them at any given time. “He hates those right?” Evan grins. “Oh yeah. But it’s still within regulations so he can’t do anything about it. So what, keep changing my appearance? Should I grow a mustache like Eddie?” They both say, at the same time, “Nah.” Tommy laughs a little. “No. I am saying you could just annoy the shit out of him. You could go at him with a clipboard? Find all the regulations he’s missed because there have to be like a hundred by now.” “He’s a hypocrite,” Evan says and Tommy shrugs, because yeah. Gerrard always picked and chose what to follow and what to ignore based on what suited him. “But yeah, that’s an idea. Weaponize my powers for evil. Excellent. Thank you. I know you haven’t wanted to tell me what to do about this, but you’ve been a godsend for just, like, keeping me from killing him.” “Can’t hold you like this if you’re in prison,” Tommy points out, hearing the fondness in his own voice. “True.” Tommy smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you want to keep going? We haven’t eaten anything for dinner yet.” Evan gives him a squeeze. “Make out in the shower first?” Evan, naked and wet in the shower? “You’re on.”

tag list: @desert--moonchild, @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @tommy-kinard-buckley,

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Next update will post Monday the 23rd , same time and same place! Going to start working on updating my game etc. <3

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: There you are! Our guest of honor tucked away in the corner. You’re not hiding, are you?

Nancy: I never really liked crowds.

Siobhan: That won’t do, Nancy. Come. Lets chat.

Siobhan: You know, the way you handled Becca the other night is admirable. I wouldn’t have done anything less if it were my man she was pawing after.

Nancy: Listen, I’m not a violent person. I shouldn’t have hit her.

Siobhan: It hardly matters. It’s about respect.

Siobhan: You have the means to be the most powerful woman in the world. Your family runs a multi million dollar company. Your name is on every recognizable building across the globe. Girls like Becca will dream of the day they can write you a check so she can raise her brood of rowdy children in one of your flawlessly designed properties.

Siobhan: You’re a star, Nancy. It’s time you show everyone what it means to be a Landgraab. You can start by becoming a Theta.

Siobhan: By the way, your mother just arrived!

Nancy: Hello Mother.

Queenie: Nancy.

Nancy: Father couldn’t make it?

Queenie: No, I’m afraid he’s tied up in a prior engagement. Besides, I try not to bore him with my personal affairs. [murmurs] How provocative, these pieces.

Queenie: So you’ve made friends with the daughter of an adulterer. Is that what you thought would impress me? Well, at least she’s proactive. Your lack of involvement in any clubs or organizations shows just how lazy you are. It’s almost as if we’ve sent you to university to piss away our money yet again. When will you prove to me that you’re worth half the trouble you put your father and me through? And for the love of God, stop biting your nails! It’s disgusting.

Professor Munch: -right, Nancy?

Nancy: I’m sorry, what was that?

Professor Munch: This model is absolutely stunning! Marvelous, even.

Nancy: R-really? Thank you, Professor.

Professor Munch: Ah! No wonder! Your drawings are very compelling. The way you blend functionality with aesthetics is brillant! A true prodigy!

Professor Munch: I am very proud of you, Nancy. Keep it up.

Nancy: Hi Professor. I know I’m a little early for office hours, but I really wanted your thoughts on my blueprints.

Professor Munch: Nancy! Are you kidding! Anything for my star pupil. Take a seat.

Professor Munch: If I’m being honest, I don’t have much critique.

Nancy: Staying on top of my grades is really important to me. My GPA is 3.7 but I know I can do more to improve. I can do better-

Professor Munch: [huffs affectionately] Nancy! You are my brightest and best student! I’d say it’s in your blood. I haven’t seen such vision and passion in my student’s work since I taught your brother.

Nancy: Nathan was your student?

Professor Munch: Oh, Nathan was my star! In the short time I spent with him, he has shown me what true artistry looks like. That kid had an eye for detail. He always spoke so fondly of his little baby sister, Nan; he’d call you. [sighs] I miss him dearly.

Professor Munch: I thought of quitting and getting back into the field after he passed. I was devastated when I found out about the accident. My partner pushed me to continue teaching. She knew there was nothing I loved more than handing the tools to brillant kids like you and Nathan to shape our future.

Nancy: Partner? [frowns] Your...partner?

Professor Munch: Monica. We were roommates in college and have been stuck to each other like glue since!

Nancy: So, she’s your best friend?

Professor Munch: Oh certainly. My best friend, my muse, my partner.

Nancy: What about your husband?

Professor Munch: Husband?

Nancy: I- sorry. Nevermind.

Professor Munch: Talk to me, dear. What’s on your mind?

Nancy: I guess I don’t understand. You’re wearing a ring but you have no photos of your husband. You seem...close with her, in the photo.

Professor Munch: I was married once. We have three children together. Sweetest man alive. We’re still friends to this day. We both realized that we had our hearts in different places. In the end, I had my Monica. My soulmate.

Nancy: [sobs quietly]

Professor Munch: Oh, no. Nancy? Dear, are you alright?

Professor Munch: [softly] Oh, sweet darling. You’re hurting, aren’t you? Can I hold you? Is that ok?

Nancy: [nods once]

Professor Munch: You let it all out, you hear me? Just let it all out. I got you.

Nancy Narrates: [I wondered what kind of person I’d be had my mother held me like this]

Professor Munch: There’s a small club that I support that meets every Friday in the commons. I think you should stop by.

Nancy: Thank you Professor but, I think I’ve already decided to join a sorority.

Professor Munch: I’ll tell you what, it’s not something you have to join or commit to, but I think there’s something to gain by coming. Plus, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You two have a lot in common.

Morgan: Holy shit, hey! It’s Nancy Landgraab! Get over here!

[saintjosie]

Nobody within my community believes that my mom is physically & verbally abusive to me & my younger siblings because she maintains a good public image by being nice & providing for everybody else. I'm sorry that I'm sending this through an ask but I've tried so much for 17 years & I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, I'm sorry...

i hear you, i see you, i believe you, and my heart hurts for you.

im going to be honest, as much as i wish i could personally help you, i can’t because you’re a minor and also because honestly, i don’t know what to do.

but as someone who went through childhood abuse myself and has since reclaimed my power, i promise you, it is possible and i promise you that you are doing so much better than you think.

and i know how it feels to feel powerless. to take on the hurt of people who should be taking on yours and feeling like it’s your fault.

and one of the things i’ve realized through years and years of healing is that abusers abuse because they feel powerless. and they feel this way because of the people who raised them, because of the people around them, because of the how the world sees them, but also most importantly, how they see themselves. the anger and abuse they take out on us are because they hate themselves and they try to reclaim their power from others by making them feel powerless.

but if you feel powerless right now there’s something i’ve realized in the process of reclaiming my own power that might help you.

1) the first step is to recognize that what is happening to you isn’t right. this might be something you’ve known for a long time and something that might seem incredibly obvious to you but it is far more difficult than it seems. it is SO easy to get trapped into thinking that this pain is your fault and this is why so many people get trapped in the cycle of abuse and abuse others. but you know that the way you are being treated is not right. that is already powerful.

2) the second step is reaching out for help. you dropped me an ask and you spoke your truth. you trusted someone on the internet you don’t know but took a chance anyways and that takes SO much strength. because strength is not about always being strong because that simply isn’t possible. strength is knowing your weaknesses and asking for help when you need it. because everyone needs help sometimes and so few people reach out to ask when they do. but you made the choice to reach out.

3) i can’t help you but there are absolutely people who can. people who have been through what you have gone through and have a fire within them that drives them to make sure that no one else has to feel this way.

and so even though i’m writing specifically to you anon, i also know that the people who see this and understand will say something.

so now dear reader, if you have words of encouragement or resources to share, please do.

i see you, i love you, and i believe in you.

[culturalsillystine]

This ended up longer than I intended.

Here's a long rant about Zero Day, denial, and finding comfort in your sickness.

.

One of the things that's stuck with us since our first time watching Zero Day is when Cal says something about not being able to cure someone who has nothing wrong with them.

Some people get so deep into their illness that they start to tell themselves, "There is nothing wrong with me." It's self-soothing, in a way. You have nothing to fix if there's nothing wrong, right? And you get sucked further and further into it until it's all you know, so it becomes normal. There's truly nothing wrong with you, because it's your norm, and how could that be wrong?

And then you get worse and worse until something happens. It could be something bad, such as Cal and Andre's case. Something people would usually never consider. But when you're sick, you're sick, and things don't make sense, and it doesn't matter what people would or wouldn't consider. Because you would, and you're normal. There's nothing wrong with you.

That, or you get help. And Andre briefly mentions something, I think it may be before what Cal says? I'm not sure, correct me if I'm wrong. But he mentions something, says that even if they did get caught and got put in counseling or something, they'd get out, and they'd still do it.

And that leads you to wonder, is that true? Is that truly what would happen? Or are they feeling so untouchable and so powerful that they think NOTHING can stop them. Not even professional help.

And we'll never know. That's what I enjoy about Zero Day, there's so much we never know. We just have to trust these two boys who will present you with their truth, not the truth.

We see very little of Cal's family, and what we do see isn't bad. What we see of Andre's is.. conflicting. His family means well, but he's an 18 year old boy who likes guns and doesn't seem to get enough appreciation from his father. It writes itself, really.

We see none of Andre interacting with his peers, we only see Cal during the prom scenes. And the prom scenes are loud and irritating and awkward. He doesn't really try to be social, he takes the next possible chance to go to the only person he really bothers socializing with; Andre.

They're both very sick. Whether it's the same thing, something similar, or something entirely different, who's to say, but they find comfort in each other. They're both rotting away, and it's okay, because it's together. Whether or not it's based in love (platonic or romantic) or a hatred for the world so deep that your vision is blurred by your tears of rage, who knows. You never get to know.

Because the last thing those boys would want is to be vulnerable. Because that means something is wrong. But nothing can be wrong, because you're normal. There's nothing wrong with you.

I hope this makes sense and isn't incoherent.

[mauvecherie-writes]

the kaleidoscope theory: l.hamilton.

• pairing: lewis hamilton x black!oc kalani halloway

• chapter warnings: none

• w.c: 3.8K

• ru’s 💌: First thing first, I want to apologise for how long it took to post this. With school and placement taking up a lot of my time, amongst other distractions and my mental health just not being the best for a while, writing has not been my main priority, and I am trying to make up for that now. Updates will be slow, but they won’t be non-existent. Please don’t forget to like, comment and re-blog.

• tip: kofi | paypal

series masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

PRESENT DAY

“ARE you sure that you want to keep doing this with him Lani? Like I love you and I’ll always be in your corner, but I have to agree with your therapist here. What are you gaining from continuing to sleep with Malik?”

The bluntness of the question almost knocked the wind out of Kalani’s lungs. Over the decades of their friendship, she had come to know that Julian did not pull any punches when it came to honesty. It should not have shocked her that her best friend would react like this to the revelation of such news. Maybe it was the exasperation and disappointment that she picked up in his tone that made Kalani want to shrivel into herself from shame.

“Lani!” His voice boomed through the car speaker, breaking her train of thought. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” She mumbled as her hands tightened around the stirring wheel.

“Well, are you going to answer my question or not?”

“It was a moment of weakness okay!” She exclaimed, finally admitting it to herself and to her best friend. “There was always an excuse to get me alone. To discuss the divorce or something about the kids. And he’d just … he would charm me, and I would be reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place then I’d give in.”

“Tuh.” Julian scoffed. “Talk of the divorce like he’s not trying to distract you from the fact that he has not signed those papers.” He added, the truth causing her shoulder to sag as she leaned back into her seat.

“I know.”

“Baby, I’m not trying to make you upset —.” He sighed, speaking in a much tender tone. But it was too late. The shame that had been brewing in her stomach for so long had bubbled back up her throat.

“I just need you to really think about this. It has been two years since you have asked for the divorce, Malik keeps stalling signing the papers, under the guise of trying to make it work. But we all know that he is still with that bitch. Like he can’t have his cake and eat it too. He doesn’t have any regard for who he’s hurting and that is you and the kids. I need you to be better than your weakness for him. It’s not fair.”

His words were hurtful to hear but Kalani could not argue against them because she knew that they were true. That is why she had decided to begin therapy. She had not slept with Malik in over six months since she had started her therapy session. This round, Kalani had finally shared the truth that she had on tinted with intimacy with her ex-husband despite the separation.

“I KNOW.” Kalani sniffed as her tears threatened to spill over. The tremble in her voice could not be hidden and Julian picked up on it.

“Lani, listen-.”

“Hey, so um — I gotta go. I need to pick up Princess from my aunt’s place.” Kalani quickly spoke out as she rounded the corner into a residential street. “Talk later.”

She did not wait for him to respond as she ended the phone call. Kalani took a deep breath as she put the car into an empty parking spot. She continued to sulk in her seat as the heaviness in her chest had returned. Everything that Julian had said to her were all things that she knew and had known from the first time, she had slept with him after they split.

Stuck in the moment, every time they had done the deed had felt good. In some way, it had felt like she had been reclaiming her power. It felt good to know that in some way, her ex still wanted her. In Kalani’s need to be desired by the man that she was married to for nearly twenty years, she had momentarily lost herself and had forgotten what was important.

The happiness of her children.

So Kalani took in a deep breath and exhaled, wiped away her tears and re-applied her lip gloss. She practised her smile in the rear-view mirror until she was satisfied with a more approachable facial expression. She got out of her car and fixed the legs of her pantsuit before she walked a short distance on the pathway and onto the property.

It did not take any time from her opening the small front gate for the front door to be opened.

“Mummy!” The excited shriek of her young daughter sounded through the air as her little feet carried her as fast as they could towards her. Kalani immediately dent down to her level and opened her arms, waiting for her daughter. She dived into her arms and Kalani could just feel all of that heaviness began to lift away from her heart. As her daughter squeezed her little around her neck, Kalani immediately felt better.

“Hi, my Princess!” She smiled at Tiara. Princess’s little giggles were what she got in response as she pulled back to look into her mother’s eyes.

“I missed you so much, Mummy.”

“I missed you too! Did you enjoy school and time with Auntie Angie?”

“Mhm!” Tiara nodded her head as she played with Kalani’s earrings. “Today, I learnt what a doing word is! And then Auntie Angie baked me a banana cake.”

“The cake is for all of you, not just you baby.” Aunt Angela spoke from behind Tiara which caused Kalani to chuckle as a frown appeared on her little girl’s face.

“Emi doesn’t like banana cake as much as I do!” Tiara exclaimed.

“I know baby. But can we at least save a piece for brother first?”

“Okay.” Her small voice of defeat made Kalani’s heart swoon. She cradled her daughter’s head to her chest as she walked towards the door where Angela had been standing with Tiara’s belongings and the wrapped up banana cake.

“Hi sweetie.” Angela had greeted her as she awkwardly hugged Kalani.

“Hi Auntie.” She replied. It was like she could feel the love outpouring from the embrace. And it took all of her strength to not break down then and there.

“You okay?” Angela asked her. Kalani softly nodded her head, not trusting her words in that moment. She took a deep breath before offering a smile of re-assurance.

“Just need my baby.” Kalani replied. “Thank you for looking after her today.”

“You never have to thank me for that. I love Princess and I love spending time with her.”

After a couple of more minutes of casual conversation, Kalani and Tiara said their goodbyes and then left her aunt’s home. On the journey to pick up Emil, she sang along to the current kid bops that Tiara was currently enjoying. Her daughter filled the car with chatter about what her day at school was and repeated stories of previous adventures. Kalani did not mind at all. Hearing her daughter talk was far more enjoyable than being left with the chaos that was her thoughts.

~

When they had arrived at the local sports and leisure centre, Kalani noticed that by the outdoor astroturf, there was a larger crowd than there should be for a practice on an early Wednesday evening . She walked hand in hand with Tiara towards the grounds and smiled when she noticed the crowds full of young and old cheering on.

No matter how much Emil had tried to teach her, there were still aspects of the game of football that she would never understand. However, that never changed how much Kalani cheered on Emil and supported him. She knew that he had fallen in love with football due to Malik’s love for the sport, his passion came from within, and Emil had the talent to match. If Emil was willing to play, then Kalani was going to do everything that she could to make sure that he continued to play to his greatest heights.

From where Kalani stood, she could tell that it was an intense game for a practise but neither the Red nor Green sides seemed to care. When Emil touched the ball, he sprinted across the field with incredible of the ball and passing by the red players who were trying to defend. Emil then passed the ball to another green player who was open. This player then quickly shot the ball into the net, scoring the winning goal.

The crowd, including Kalani and Tiara cheered for the green shirts.

The game came to an end and with the crowds beginning to disperse, Tiara shot away from Kalani’s side and ran towards his older brother as she screamed his name. She smiled as she watched Emil pick up his little sister and throw her into the air, catch her and then spin her around.

As she proudly watched the moment, she caught a growing crowd from the corner of her eye. She noticed a man standing in the middle with the biggest smile on his face as he tried to greet every one that was surrounding him. That bright smile with the small tooth gap was the first thing that caught her attention. His twisted strands were in a ponytail, but his sides and beard were nicely trimmed in a way that brought attention to his chiselled facial features. Kalani’s eyes travelled to his large and muscular tatted arms that even with his bronzed, umber complexion, the design of the tattooed sleeves stood out. He was dressed simply, in a black, sleeveless knitted vest and what looked like black trousers. Kalani had spent too much time staring at him for her to notice that his jewellery was expensive and some of it was probably custom made.

As if picking up on her inquisitive eyes, the man looked up and stared right at her. She had never seen such an intense yet sincere pair of eyes that were the smoothest of chocolate brown. Kalani bit her lip in embarrassment at being caught looking when he smiled at her. She quickly averted her gaze to her children, who were walking towards her and tried not to think about why the stranger felt vaguely familiar.

“Hi Mum.” Emil greeted her as he placed Tiara down on her feet before reaching towards her and giving her a sideways hug. Kalani reciprocated the hg and patted his sweat drenched curls.

“Hi baby, you were great out there.” She complimented him which caused him to grin.

“Thank you.” He smiled at her.

“Any particular reason why you guys were playing like it was the finals of the Premier League?”

“Oh! The owner of the centre is here, and we just wanted to impress him I guess.”

“You were out there acting like he’s like a talent scout.” Kalani chuckled.

“He might as well be. He used to be a sportsperson, so he knows a lot of people.”

“Like Mbappa right?”

“Mbappé, Mum. Mbappé.” Emil corrected her with a roll to his eyes.

“Well, whatever his name is.” Kalani shrugged her shoulders and then picked Tiara into her arms. “Anyway, go get your stuff. We need to be home before 8:30.”

For a fraction of a moment, she saw her son’s gleeful demeanour slip. He nodded his head and then jogged away. Kalani watched as he stopped and talked to the same man that she had made eye contact with. The joy in his face was back once more and it eased the tension within her. She was sending them to their fathers’ for the weekend as she needed some time to herself to re-charge before she embarked on a large project at work.

However, Emil had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with the man that he had once idolised. Emil confessed to enduring the visit for the sake of Tiara, who was still trying to adjust to the separation.

When he came back, they all hurdled into the car and they drove back home, not before stopping for a takeaway pizza collection.

After they had arrived back at their home, Kalani rushed her children to take their evening showers before preparing their bags.

Kalani stayed downstairs as she prepared their dinner. Alongside the pizza, she made a simple arugula salad with cherry tomatoes, feta cheese and a balsamic dressing. Once she had set the table and could finally take a sip of her white wine.

She dreaded the weekends when her children were away. Because it forced her to think. It forced her evaluate every single decision that led to this very moment that she was currently residing in.

Her hatred for Malik increased.

Memories of their past floated in front of her. Her and Malik dancing around the kitchen as they cooked whilst Emil set the kitchen table and Tiara narrating stories from her vivid imagination.

They were so happy.

They were so in love.

Where in the fuck did he ever find the time to cheat on her? She wondered.

That was a question that she never got an answer to. And it was a question, she was afraid of what the answer may be. It just was not something that she was ready to confront. Kalani was left to deal with all of that harbouring anger all alone.

“Mummy look! Me and Emi are matching!” Tiara rushed rushed down the stairs with Emil in tow. When Kalani turned her head towards their direction, a laughter full of elation burst from her when she noted that the duo were indeed matching. Tiara was dressed in a hot pink Nike tracksuit that was a contrast to Emil’s grey one.

“She wasn’t going to wear anything else.” Emil commented as they entered the large kitchen area, approaching the sink to wash their hands.

“That’s okay. Princess just wants to be like her big brother huh.” Kalani smiled as she smoothed her daughter’s hair.

“Yep!” Tiara gave them her dazzling smile. “Except, I don’t like football, and he doesn’t like banana cake!” The little girl stated before her focus shifted to the slices of banana cake on the table. “Ooouuu caaaakkee.”

“Not so fast, young lady!” Kalani spoke up which stopped Tiara in her tracks. “Can you eat some pizza first before the cake?”

“Okay, Mummy.” She pouted as she moved to sit down in her chair by the table. Emil shook his his head as he plated a slice of pizza for himself before sitting down.

They sat in silence as they ate their food, but Kalani could tell from her son’s solemn expression that something was bothering him.

“You okay baby?” She asked him as a worried expression marked her face.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He offered her a smile that she didn’t believe.

“You sure? You know that you can always talk to me, right?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just -.” Emil stopped talking before he let out a sigh. He then turned his attention to Tiara who was focused on trying to do a cheese pull. “I’m not ready to talk about it.” He concluded.

Kalani swallowed as she tried to not be disappointed with his response. Outside of the pure anger that was palpable whenever his father was mentioned, Emil had concealed his emotions about the divorce from her, always giving her that same answer of not being ready to talk. She had offered for him to go to therapy but he refused, saying that he did not need it.

“I caught him cheating Mum, not killing somebody.” He had said to her after the therapy suggestion. She dropped it then, however as her sessions continued, the more she wanted to push for Emil to go. But she was not going to force his hand. He’d go when he was ready.

“How’s this? When you come back, I’ll take the day off work and break you out of school and we do whatever you want. Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that.” Emil replied as a small smile returned to his face. Kalani reached over and softly pinched his cheek.

“That’s my boy.” She wicked at him.

They finished dinner in a much better mood with Emil updating her on his coming football schedule so that she could make time for it in her diary. And it wasn’t long after they had cleared the table did the doorbell ring.

Kalani glanced over to the clock on the wall. It was 8:40pm.

A cloud of tension suddenly covered the serenity of their home as she realised who was at the front door. Kalani looked at her son, who was already moving to collect Tiara from her position in her play area by the living room.

“Give me five minutes, I need to talk to your father about something.” She said to him. Emil nodded his head.

“Princess come on, gotta make sure that you have all of your toys ready.” He said before picking her up and giving her a piggy-back ride up the stairs which caused her to squeal with each step.

Kalani mentally prepared herself as she dried her hands with a hand towel before she headed to the door.

With one more pep talk, she swung the door open and met her ex-husband with a close-lipped smile with her body blocking the entrance.

Standing shy of 6 foot 2 inches with a rich, tawny complexion, a shaved head and trimmed goatee – Malik was a physically handsome man. At forty-three, he kept himself fit, had an impeccable wardrobe (that she introduced him to) and a gorgeous smile that her daughter inherited. Full lips with slick words that could charm the pants off a recluse. She would know, they’d been working on her for close to two decades.

“Hi Lani.” He smiled down at her.

“Hi Malik.” Her tone was curt, which caused his cheeky expression to slip by minor fraction, but she caught it.

“How are you?” He asked. “You look beautiful as ever.” He complimented her, trying to work his charm as he had done so many times before.

It wasn’t going to work this time.

“Thanks.” She narrowed her eyes before she moved to step outside. She drew the door close and left it slightly agar.

“I need to talk to talk to you about something.”

“Are the kids okay?” He worried.

“They’re as fine as they can be. But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Then what?”

“When are you going to sign the papers, Malik? You’ve been putting them off for far too long now.”

“What do you mean sign?” He frowned in confusion. “I thought that we were taking this time to figure things out.”

“What things?!” Kalani sternly exclaimed in a hushed voice. “You refused couple’s counselling. Emil doesn’t want therapy and wont talk to me about it. Tiara thinks you’re working on a big project at work because she doesn’t understand that we’re separated.” As the words spat out of her mouth, the angrier she became. “Let’s not fucking forget, that little girlfriend of yours is still around and you thought that I didn’t know about it.”

“She’s not Kalani!” Malik quickly tried to shut down her accusation.

“Oh please!” She scoffed as she looked at him up and down in disgust. “Her perfume is lingering on you right now. I should know, I was washing it off for years!” She hissed.

Kalani watched as Malik tried to sniff his clothes and that disgusted her even more as she could see the gears in his mind churning up an excuse.

“Listen, it’s not like that.” He began to say.

“I don’t give a shit what it’s like. I want those divorce paper signed and delivered to my office by Monday. If not then no more nice Kalani, I’ve put up with your shit for too long.”

Without giving Malik a chance to reply, she opened the door just as she picked up on the patter of feet rushing down the stairs. Tiara zoomed past her and dove into her father’s legs, hugging them.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” She chanted, bouncing with excitement. Malik picked her up into his arms and gave him one of his practised smiles as he peppered her face with kisses.

“My gorgeous girl! You’re getting so big!” He said which caused Tiara to grin.

“Look! My tooth fell out and the tooth fairy gave me one pound and Mummy told me to add it to my piggy bank!”

“Oh, that’s so awesome Princess!”

“When all my teeth fall out, I’m gonna be rich!”

“Oh, I bet!” Malik tickled her sides which caused another high-pitched squeal to leave Tiara. In all of her rage, it was the joy of her daughter that mattered to her. Emil trotted to her side, holding their weekend bags.

“You got everything baby?” She asked him. He nodded his head.

She hated having to send him with his father, but she did not trust Malik to care for Tiara without Emil’s assistance. She brought in her son for a tight hug and kissed the side of his head. “It’s just two days and you’ll be back.”

Emil sighed at those words before nodding his head. “Bye Mum.” He mumbled before he kissed her cheek and walked past Malik without acknowledging him. She could see that Malik was trying to not let that get to him but kept a brave face for Tiara. It may be horrible to admit but it felt nice to know that there was one more person who hated his guts the way she did.

‘Right, Princess, you’re going to be on our best behaviour for your father, okay?” Kalani said to Tiara.

“Mhm.” Tiara nodded her head before Kalani placed a kiss on her forehead.

“We’ll talk about what we talked about later.” Malik glared at her.

“Unless it’s about that signature, then we have nothing to talk about.” She glared back.

Kalani waved goodbye to her children as Malik drove away. Once she shut her front door, she let out the biggest sigh of relief as her body relaxed. She had not realised just how tense she had been in the minutes Malik was here.

It had felt like hours.

With her body on autopilot, Kalani finished cleaning up the kitchen and packing away Tiara’s toys before she grabbed her bottles of wine, forgoing the glass and dragged her body up the stairs to her bedroom. As she prepared for her evening bath, she put her favourite playlist on and danced to the music as she stripped down to her bathing suit.

Once her tub was full of hot water and bubbles, she sank down, laying down her head on the towel. She took a large gulp of her wine and get the bottle down.

With only the sultry voice of Sadé as solace, Kalani let her walls down and cried to her hearts content.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @emjayewrites @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44

[mrsdesade]

Hey, could you write a homelander x reader where she works at Vought and unknowingly gets his attention and he stalks her?

Hi dear anon, thanks for your patience!! I don't have much time to write full fics these days, because life is happening and I'm very busy physically and mentally, but I can happily offer some headcanons 💕

Homelander's obsessive behaviors headcanons

First of all, his romantic gestures, while seemingly sweet, are often rooted in his need for control and his inability to understand healthy relationships. His actions can be seen as manipulative and even frightening, especially when considering his overall personality and powers.

Constant surveillance: He would employ his super hearing and x-ray vision to keep a constant watch on you. He might use these abilities to monitor your home, workplace, or any other place you frequently visit.

Data collection: He'd collect as much information as possible about his current obsession: you. This could include your daily routines, social media activity, and even your deepest fears and desires. He might use his Vought resources to access private databases.

Preserving memories: Homelander might keep a collection of items that remind him of you, like a lock of your hair or a piece of your clothing. Oh God If you gift something to him, he's going to cherish this like a museum piece.

Love bombing: He'll shower you with love and attention, he loves doing it, especially at the beginning of the relationship, to reel you in.

Unwanted gifts: Homelander would often leave small, often expensive gifts for his favourite persons in unexpected places. These gifts could be anything from flowers to jewelry, and they would always be personalized to show how well he knows you. Often with small notes inside. Doll, baby, my girl, nicknames are on plate.

Sudden appearances: Homelander would frequently appear where you least expects him. He might show up at yor work, your home, or even a random location you're visiting. At least three times at week, minimum.

Testing your loyalty: He might create situations to test your loyalty to him. This could involve putting you in a difficult position or asking you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.

Excessive praise: When you two are together he would shower you with compliments, often going overboard and making you feel uncomfortable. He might even compare you to other people, always putting you on a pedestal. You're his precious treasure and he loves you so goddamn much.

Isolation tactics: He might try to isolate you from their friends and family at some point, making you believe that he is the only one who truly understands your needs.

Future planning: He might make elaborate plans for your future together, down to the smallest details, without ever consulting you. He'll make grand plans for the two of you for sure. This could include things like buying a house together or having children.

Gaslighting: If you decide to start to question his behavior, Homelander might resort to gaslighting. He could make you doubt their own perceptions and memories, making you believe that you're just imagining things.

Public displays of affection: Homelander might engage in very public displays of affection, such as putting his arm around you in front of a crowd, or giving you a very long, lingering kiss. This is partly to show off his "perfect couple" image, but also to mark his territory.

Obsession with physical touch: Homelander might find ways to touch you, in every moment, he need that, even if it's just brushing against them or holding their hand. He would crave any form of physical contact.

Nightmares and sleep disturbances: His obsession for you would consume his thoughts, leading to vivid nightmares and difficulty sleeping. He might even develop a fear of losing you really easily. Despite his outward confidence, Homelander has a deep-seated fear of being abandoned. This fear can lead him to become increasingly possessive and controlling.

-------

Thanks again for the request, enjoy! Kisses kisses! 💕

[writers-potion]

Do yoh happen to have any resources for how to write a stripper character? In my novel idea the stripper character is a secondary character more meant to teach the protag that the world is filled with just as much beauty as there is cruelty and will eventually take in the protag after they escape their creator's clutches at the very end of the novel (Frankenstein inspired)

Writing A “Story B” Lead Character

Hello! First of all, thank you for this beautiful question. I know your question started by asking about how you should craft a stripper character, but I would like to pay more attention to the function that your stripper character is serving – the Story B Lead. 

What is a Story B Lead? Simply put, they are characters that lead the side plot in any story – most typically, the love interest (if you have a romantic side arc, the most typical type of Story B). 

The main job of the Story B Lead is:

Give the readers a break from the main plot. Story B shouldn’t be as serious or daunting as Story A — let your hero have some fun, explore new things, and find love while he figures out how to fight the big bad boss.

Convey the theme of the story. The easiest example is the love interest in superhero stories. When the hero is too focused on the fight, the love interest often provides a new perspective to find the critical clue or make the hero realize there are more important things than chasing power. 

Be a part of the sucko ending. Whether your Story B has a happy or sad ending, the conclusion of all the fun the hero has must supplement the main story’s ending in some way. 

So, let’s construct your stripper character based on the criteria outlined. 

Give her a backstory that will hit the protagonist differently. Think about the relevance of the stripper in your protagonist’s character arc. Is she someone your protagonist can look up to? What was her struggle of living as someone’s creation? Does your protagonist fear that they will become like her? 

Make her attractive, fun, quirky. Story B is where we get to stress a bit less about the main conflict to explore more of the story world. Use your stripper character to show what it means to be a creation – do other strippers alienate her? Physical quirks? Some things only she can do because she was “created”, not “born”?

Give her a thematic statement that summarizes what she stands for. For example, she may say: “Some say that beauty is terror. I say there’s beauty in the most terrible things.” as she drags a crying protagonist onto a packed stage. 

Don’t let her drag your protagonist around. Taking in the protag sounds like a fully closed happy ending, but remember that your protagonist must choose to be with your side characters – not the other way around.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[sierrale8ne]

what kinks do you think Paige has 🙏

-🌠

oh anon i’m so glad you asked.

I think more than anything she has a huge (huge) praise kink. Obviously it’s shown in what she says to you, but hearing you praise her was a completely different story. She’d like it when you tell her how good it feels when she fucks you, how you love the way she kisses you. Even when you’re topping her, telling her how pretty she is, or how much of a good girl she’s being. That one is her favorite.

Daddy kink for sure. I genuinely cannot get the thought of that Daddy Paige cake out of my mind. She’d love hearing you say it while you beg, responding to you cries of please please please with “what’s my name?” Or when the sex is rougher than usual, when she’s breaking you apart with her strap and nearly manhandling you, the sheer dominance she feels when you call her daddy alone is enough to make her cum. She’s freaky like that I believe it.

Maybe it’s just because I write her like this but overstimulation? YEAH. She loves doing it to you for sure, making you cum over and over and over again just to prove she can; but there is another level of dominance that she loves in watching you go from her overconfident vocal partner to a a silenced little play thing for herself only. Then when she’s on the receiving end? I think she’d love the complete feeling of euphoria every time. Maybe after physical game or on a night where she just wants to be felt on, and you just push her to that edge repeatedly until you’ve deemed that she can’t take anymore. Sure she loves having that power over you but when those roles are reversed it’s almost even better.

Spit kink and please just hear me out! Thinking about your tongue between her legs, eating her out until your jaw is sore and she’s cumming in your mouth with ragged breaths and the occasional moan of your name. To have you lean up, and spit it onto her tongue? Or riding her strap— which I believe to be one of her favorite positions (we can get into that another time)— and the constant pressure of your bouncing on her cock, against her clit is becoming blinding. Your hand gently grips her face, instructing her to open her mouth just slightly so a hot glob of your spit lands perfectly on her tongue for her to swallow. PLEASE!

Let me stop it’s too early in the morning for this but I can (and will eventually) continue 🙂‍↕️

[gege-wondering-around]

can i just say that Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice are the old school version of Stiles and Derek?

Cause i will shout this from my balcony till it breaks beneath me!

Stiles (Elizabeth or if you want, 'lizzy') not giving a flying f about Derek (Darcy) cause this rich dude has no care for others and just runs on raw pride, which lead all his decisions. Which ultimately makes him look like the worst man on earth to Stiles' eyes, which is why he stays away from Derek.

But then, solitary man Derek will start to fall in love with this intelligent and fine creature (stiles) because he couldn't be more difficult to get!

Stiles doesn't care about society, stiles is sharp and of an intellectual awareness that defy every man in search of the tipycal silly type to ask for marriage, and Derek cannot stress himself enough about this sweet, pretty thing dancing around at balls and answering rudeness with politeness mixed with the most sublime undertone of confidence and assertiveness.

cause stiles doesn't care about money or status, stiles cares about marrying someone he truly loves and when he realized derek did love him, he felt sooooo ashamed of how judgemental he had been of this poor man who just wanted his hand! because derek loved him enough to forgive stiles for his harsh words towards him (cause stiles thought of him as a bad individual and spoke of it to him) from the past and was then a more genuine version of himself.

And as Derek and Stiles tangle their lives together because of friends and family, they end up as the most tight knot that will not be undone! especially after derek hear about stiles' high chin and firm words of 'i may not be engaged to him now, but fear i may will' that he spoke to Derek's aunt when she went to stiles to disagree of their possibile engagement

and what did stiles do?

respond to the rudeness of this lady with the sharpest and most confidence tone of 'we will choose for ourselves' which, when derek heard about this, made him go so out of his path to get stiles.

because they didn't know each other, then they did, and they fell in love. and they weren't going to NOT act on it.

(summary: enemies to lovers. which is now my new obsession- yes, i never invested into enemies to lovers, but now i might do some digging)

I'm gonna write a retelling of this so bad.

imagine.

this kind of pretty stiles (with a sharp tongue and pretty look that defy how his mind actually thinks and hides how much 'intellectual power' he has since, for the time the story it's set in, lizzy is an unusual brave woman who would rather marry the poor guy, love of her life over the rich, cold man with money)

pretty because lizzy is viewed as a very pretty women who is recognized as such in society (which dancy then calls 'the most beautiful women I've even seen in my entire life' after someone says she's not even that pretty)

who's personality can go from this ⬇️

yk, funny, outgoing, polite (sort of) and overall a wonderful presence to have conversations with and engage in sharing opinions and dance with during balls (in which her figure is gracefully dancing and all the other stuff i dont remember)

to this ⬇️

a wonderful undertone of 'f you with respect' and 'who do you think you are', who will also be able to undo you in 30 seconds in a verbal battle cause he has the intelligence and intellectual knowledge to do so and WILL do so without much regards for consequences cause he'll do so in a way that will makes it unable for you to bite back cause you'll end up the one being labeled as rude.

pared with

this angry looking fool, who looks more arrogant than anything most of the day, to most people (and even those who knows him talk very little of his doings, because he hides his true emotions and intentions. and despite pride being his fuel, he's still a caring man who is not talk about much if not for his money = they talk about his fortune and not the values he has, despite the sort of 'contorted' way in which everything is based on pride)

(which could also be older, but who know what I'll end up choosing when i write this - because yes, i love older men ⬇️)

who, ultimately, will look at stiles like this⬇️

because 'damn, you are the only person i want by my side for the rest of my life' and he wont be able to move his gaze elsewhere cause despite being an a-hole to stiles for the major part of theirshared time, he was still able to redeem himself by showing his kindness and actually gets stiles.

while stiles is like

because after pulling up the bad facade of 'i dont give a f about you cause i think you are rude', he felt ashamed when he found he was wrong about him but then darcy (derek) forgives him and he can't hold his feelings anymore and just shows everything through his eyes and the soft laughter he lets out when they talk cause he has still to process how much these two are gonna love each other (this, before they are engaged)

so.

I'll buy the book (cause i read a school fitted version of it), annotate things, write down some coherent line of plot and one day, I'll write everything down.

till then, I'll scream about this from my balcony, thanks for have come to this sort of tedtalk.

and this is for you, my sweet @dontcallpanic, i hope you'll like my little gift as I'm still working, rather slowly, on my replies for you 🩵🫂

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can you write about a reader who is the most beautiful girl in the village? Donna literally worships her, she has many pictures of her in her house,she is overprotective, literally treats her like a goddess. Every time Donna sees reader she loves to touch her, tell her how much she loves her and how beautiful she is.Reader is also very shy and doesn't talk much, even more than Donna. Can it be smut G!P Donna with reader being super shy and embarrassed? Reader needs aftercare soo much :))

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!!! :)))))

Your cursed beauty

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff,

Word count: 7,672

Summary: She's the only one who really loves you...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“So, with the rune in his hand, he made an effort not to use that power again, because the fate of the region was much more important than his selfish desires...” you read out loud as you wrote.

The always reassuring silence of the mansion, the subtle lighting of the place, that peace, that tranquility were your best companions when it came to writing one of your stories. It was a shame that someone had other plans for you.

“Hey! Silly, silly!” a shrill voice pulled you out of the sheet of paper, blurring the image of your characters in your mind. At least you were used to it. “Hey, do you hear me? Hello? Silly?”

“Angie...” you sighed in a low voice, shaking your head as the puppet climbed onto the old desk, taking a not-so-subtle look at the already written sheets. “W-Wait…”

Your whispers weren't going to stop the doll's curious eagerness.

“Keep reading, keep reading, keep reading,” the puppet insisted, pointing at the paper.

“I can't read what isn't written,” you murmured, taking that new page out of the machine, pretending that this intrusion hadn't made you nervous.

“Well, write then,” Angie said, with her hands on her hips.

“I can't if you're here,” you said with a shy tone, afraid that one of your words would offend the doll. It wouldn't be the first time. “Besides, I'm done for today.”

Sometimes you thought Angie only did those things to make you nervous. What nonsense, of course she did it to make you nervous.

“I hope you've accepted my suggestions,” she said in a petulant voice.

You looked at her briefly, shaking your head. Despite your shyness, despite the comfort you felt in not having to speak, you knew it was impossible.

“I can’t put spaceships in it, it’s a fantasy novel,” you said in a soft voice, not looking at the puppet as you did so, an old trick to lose the fear of communicating.

“Bullshit,” Angie protested, in a brusque tone, one that even startled you. “Spaceships are cool.”

“Angie, lasciala stare,” a tender voice appeared to protect you.

Your lips broke into a smile, your cheeks flushed at those melodic words. The sound of the heels matched the beat of your heart and your eyes moved from the desk to contemplate her approaching figure.

Since you were very young, you were blessed with the gift of beauty.

Being beautiful was the dream of many girls, they strived to achieve it. They prayed to achieve it.

You never had to do it, you were born beautiful, according to too many people, you were the most beautiful girl in the village.

It was a proud title, in which you yourself didn’t believe. You never cared. You never looked at yourself the mirror and smiled. You never contemplated that beauty everyone said you had.

The only thing you were proud of was your gift for writing.

Creating a world, characters, play with them, make them live a thousand adventures was truly your passion. Since you were 10 years old you had started with short stories, with tales that you read to your parents. That was a gift for you, not looking in the mirror and knowing that you were beautiful.

Unfortunately, those kinds of talents were not noticed in that village. The Black Gods, Mother Miranda, the Lords... They transformed that place into a gray pit of bitterness, of conformism.

Like those knights in the books, with small brains and big lances, the villagers didn’t see in you an artist, not even a friend, all they could see was your face, your beauty.

A beauty desired by others, an extraordinary gift that was a blessing for those silly girls who dreamed of their prince charming. For you it was not like that, for you that beauty was a curse, an unjust sentence.

You felt the eyes, the glances on you, you heard whispers. You lived with uncomfortable smiles.

Far from considering you a strange girl, your friends seemed to be interested in your talent. That was a good thing, or so you thought. Every day you had several people willing to listen to your stories, to hear a voice that wasn’t yet afraid to come out of your lips.

In your ignorance you believed that those invitations were simply a desire to hear your stories, since it was the favorite excuse of those boys and girls.

You soon discovered you were wrong. You only had to ask, ask what part they liked the most, what they thought of the fate of a character, to realize that they never listened to you, that your stories didn't matter to them.

Nobody cared about your writing, nobody cared about your stories. They only wanted to be close to you to try to make that fairy tale princess fall in love with a brainless knight.

That same attitude, the repetition of that behavior over and over again led you little by little to despair, to not feeling comfortable talking, relating to people.

One day you were beautiful and outgoing, the next one you were beautiful, yes, but shy and lacking in words.

Shyness arrived over time, as a side effect of that curse your beauty was.

“Oh, come on, don't be like that, let me invite you to dinner at least,” he protested, while you walked away, telling yourself that it was over, that no one who didn't want to listen to you would deserve to hear your voice.

“I really want to know the end,” a hoarse voice startled you, getting in your way.

It wasn't a dream, nor a nightmare. One of the village Lords, the youngest, the strangest, Donna Beneviento, appeared in front of you, with her hands in an elegant pose.

It seemed unlikely, even impossible.

But your duty was to obey those authorities, and so you did. The lady in black and you sat on a bench. Silence accompanied the mystery hidden by that black veil. There were no words, only gestures that encouraged you to continue that story.

You would never have imagined that she, that sick, disturbed woman, that doll maker would listen to you. She didn't interrupt. She didn't seem to devour you with her gaze. She just wanted to listen to you.

No one, not even your best friends, had made the slightest effort to let you share your talent with them.

Donna Beneviento did, she listened to you again and again, she asked you questions, she seemed curious about your talent, enthralled by your stories, and not by your beauty.

Well, that would be trivializing it a bit, of course she thought you were beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the village, but that was a very secondary detail.

She was the first, the only one who dared to meet you, who seduced you not only by what you were on the outside, but also by what you were on the inside. The dates on that remote bench were frequent. They were dates that weren’t scheduled; they simply existed, always in the same place, always at the same time.

You found refuge in her presence. Attentive, kind, shy like you... That was the youngest of the Lords.

That was the first time, the first time that a compliment, a flattery, was accompanied by praise for your talent.

Her deformed face forced her to isolate herself from the world. Her different body embarrassed her, almost as much as your beauty did to you. You tow ere so different and so alike…

You had no doubt, you loved her, and she loved you.

Without thinking, you threw yourself into that romance, into her lips, into her kisses, into her hugs. Donna was the only one who treated you the way you deserved, the only one who won your heart.

Living in the old mansion was your next step. You couldn't walk without feeling her lips, her caresses, her words of love. Yes, she was also dazzled by your beauty, she adored you as if you were some kind of Goddess, but you knew she was the only woman you allowed to do it.

Your shy attitude was curious to her. Your talent was fascinating to her. But, Donna... She was much more than that to you, Donna was everything to you.

You could no longer live without her kisses, without her voice, without her caresses... Anything that meant not having her by your side was like a hell for you.

“Hi, tesoro...” the lady sighed, bending down to steal a kiss from you, to cheer your spirit with a tender smile.

You smiled again, embarrassed by the softness of her lips, her words. Your cheeks had become accustomed to blushing in her presence, and your body trembled accepting her caresses.

“Donna,” you said with a soft voice, broken by the shame your body felt when hers surrounded it.

“Are you done for today?” she asked softly, looking at the pile of papers on the desk.

You nodded slowly, lowering your gaze as she looked at you again with that smile, one that didn't seem to want to fade from her face.

“I've finished two chapters,” you said in a whispery voice, trying to make the heat in your cheeks dissipate, something complicated due to her constant caresses.

“Mm, you were inspired,” Donna said, amused, putting her hand on your shoulder and sitting on the desk. “Do you want to read them to me?”

“Oh, um, I…” you said nervously, moving your eyes away from hers. “You, you know it’s embarrassing for me.”

Donna laughed, shaking her head, taking the opportunity to run a hand over your face again, to be captivated by your features. Your cheeks accepted that caress, responding with an increasingly dark red tone.

“You know I love listening to you,” she whispered, moving away so as not to overwhelm you. “Your voice is worthy of the Gods.”

You laughed as you shook your head, giving her a soft slap on the leg.

“Hey, don't say those things to me…” you said in a shy tone, focusing your gaze on the papers, and not on her beautiful, truly beautiful smile. “It makes me nervous.”

“Oh, does it make you nervous when I tell you nice things?” she said in a tender voice, biting her lip. “You're perfect, you know?”

“No, no, I'm not,” you murmured, looking for the chapter you had finished. “If I read you… will you stop talking to me like that?”

“Maybe,” she said, with a mischievous smile.

You indicated for her to sit in a nearby chair, while you cleared your throat.

“Mm, let's see…” you whispered, dying of embarrassment as every time you read out loud, even more knowing that the Angie doll had climbed onto her owner's lap, also willing to listen to your story without spaceships.

Little by little, you related those parts of your novel, which Donna, along with a mysteriously silent Angie, listened attentively.

 “What do you think?” you said, sighing in relief when you finished reading.

The lady in black, with her head resting on one hand, blinked, her smile widening.

“Edgar's story is very tragic,” she commented, with a low voice, moved by the fate of one of your characters.

“Yes, well…” you said, nodding and moving the pages, returning again to your usual shyness. “He can have all the money he wants, but he will never get Regina's love…” you commented.

“Never?” Donna asked, curious about your comment.

You shook your head with a smile.

“Not everyone has to have a happy ending, right?” you said amused.

The lady sighed, getting up from the chair and lowering Angie to the floor.

“I had it,” Donna whispered, helping you get up from the chair with an elegant gesture, placing her hands gently on your waist. “Although I didn't deserve it…”

You enjoyed the contact, the soft hand that placed a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Me neither,” you said in a low voice, intimidated by the intensity of her gaze.

“Nonsense, tesoro, you deserve anything you want,” the lady in black whispered, leaning to your ear and kissing your skin slowly, savoring each of the soft movements of her lips on your neck.

“You’re exaggerating,” you said shyly, laughing nervously at the tickling her kisses did to you.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, sighing and caressing your cheek one last time before slowly pulling away, kissing the back of your hand. “I’m going to go make dinner.”

“Oh, do you need…? Do I help you?” you asked, more confidently.

Donna turned slowly, shaking her head.

“No, tesoro, just rest,” she said softly, walking away from you with her graceful step, the rhythmic sound of her heels clicking on the floor.

You stood still on the floor, but before the doll maker reached the elevator, you walked quickly towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention.

“Donna,” you said with a shy smile, slowly turning her around and capturing her lips in an improvised kiss, one you rarely felt capable of giving.

She smiled into your lips, cupping your face in her hands, caressing your lips slowly, softly, while you leaned, smiling. Your cheeks were burning with shyness, but also, with love.

The kiss deepened, and seemed to never end. Your hands settled on her chest and hers ran seductively along your waist.

“Amore mio…” she sighed, letting her lips go free, kissing every part of your face, releasing the chastity of her hands, which tickled your arms, your neck. “Principessa…”

You resisted nervously, unable to control those kisses that were increasingly unbridled.

Laughing again, shy at her whispers, which only knew how to praise you, to adore you as if you were something precious, fragile, tremendously valuable, you put your hands on her chest, stopping the passion that was increasingly ardent, because otherwise, you would be unable to do it.

“Donna,” you whispered between kisses, gently moving away, causing a tender growl from the lady, who finally agreed to stop kissing you. “I'm… I'm a bit hungry.”

“Oh, certo…” she murmured, kissing you quickly and running her thumb down your cheek while laughing nervously. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” you whispered shyly, with a sincere, sweet smile, a smile like you've never had, one in love, truly in love. “I love your kisses…”

“I love you…” the lady whispered, giving you one last kiss before pulling away again.

“Hey, that's enough! Stop, basta, parad!” Angie shrieked, pushing the lady by her legs. “How disgusting…”

“Angie…” Donna sighed, shaking her head.

“Is the blood reaching your head? I doubt it…” the doll mocked, making the lady blush with a serious look.

“Angie, don't be rude,” the doll maker protested, turning around. “I'll see you right away, amore mio…”

“O-Okay,” you said shyly again, laughing at Angie's impudence. “I'm going to take a bath, I need it.”

“Mmmm,” the lady in black protested, turning on her heels and biting her lip. “(Y/N)… You know I love to do it with you.”

You shrugged in amusement, looking at the floor so your embarrassment wasn't so obvious. The characters in your novel weren't afraid of such things but you... Despite having shared everything with Donna, you were still extremely shy when it came to taking off your clothes next to her.

Your life was perfect, really perfect.

“And this... It's for you...” Donna said as she served dinner, handing you a perfect rose, like every night.

“Oh...” you murmured, smelling the intoxicating scent of the flower. “Donna...”

“Mm?”

“It wasn’t necessary” you said with your voice low, soft and shy as usual. She smiled at you, gesturing with the bottle of wine. “Oh, don't pour too much wine, otherwise, my head will hurt.”

The lady laughed, obeying your request and leaving the bottle on the table, waiting, as always, for you to eat first.

“Do you like it?” she asked, unsure, observing your gestures.

“Very much, darling,” you said kindly, earning another radiant smile from the brunette, who, finally making sure that you enjoyed her food, began to eat. “Thank you…”

The glances crossed as always, the smiles danced between them from time to time, the shine of your eyes reflected the dim light of the candles.

Every night, every moment was the most romantic of your life. Of course, you could envy many things from the books: talkative, outgoing, daring characters... But if there was something that those romance stories were not able to convey, it was the love that existed between you and Donna. That was just impossible.

“How...?” you said nervously, interrupting that silent dinner, wishing to be the one to start a conversation for once, something difficult due to so many years of voluntary silence. “Ahem, how about your...? Your... Dolls?”

Donna looked up, knowing that you were interrupting because of your internal struggle to stop being the shy girl you always were.

“My dolls… Well, I guess they are as usual,” she commented, drinking some wine. “They're not very talkative.”

“Hey!” Angie protested, entertained on a nearby sofa.

“Well, not all of them,” Donna joked, lowering her gaze again.

You nodded. Yes, Donna wasn't the most extroverted and talkative woman in the world either, but at least she tried, and with better results than you, of course.

“I, I'd like to learn how to sew,” you murmured, hiding your shyness in a glass of water. Donna smiled, arching her eyebrow.

“Sew?” the lady asked, with a tender voice, unable to hide a bit of curiosity.

“Yes, well… You must be sick of fixing my dresses,” you commented amused, finishing your plate, looking at the sleeves of your dress, always masterfully mended by the brunette.

“Don't talk nonsense, tesoro, I love sewing for you, and making you dresses…” she commented, winking at you. “You have a perfect body for it.”

“Oh, well…” you said nervously again, running a hand over the back of your neck and looking away. “But, I would really like to learn.”

“Okay, dolcezza, I'll be happy to do it,” Donna said in a soft voice, with a slight blush on her cheeks. “Tomorrow when I get back from the meeting we could start, what do you think?”

“Oh, tomorrow…” you sighed, blinking nervously. “I don't know if I can, I had thought that, since you have a meeting, I could take a walk around the grounds, you know, to get inspired.”

Donna stopped eating, with a slightly more serious, darker look. You didn't expect any other reaction.

All the virtues of the lady in black were enough to make you fall in love, but, like everyone, she also had flaws. The worst of them was her subtle possessiveness, her jealousy, the fear of losing you, something that always led her to overprotect you, to put a bubble wrap on you so nothing dared to harm you.

The lady wiped herself with a napkin, drinking some wine before looking at you suspiciously, perhaps searching for the words to dissuade you.

“Mm, you can wait for me so we can go together,” she murmured, searching for the lie, the deception in your gaze, something that made you even more nervous.

“Yeah, but... Well, it's just that I don't know when you're going to come back,” you said with a voice that was getting weaker and weaker, playing with your cutlery so as not to look at that darkened eye. “Last time it got dark.”

“You know you can't go out alone, (Y/N),” she said abruptly, crossing your arms. “If I come back late, we'll go another day.”

“But Donna... I...” you insisted with a broken voice, with the seriousness of her gaze stabbing a dagger into your heart.

“Basta, (Y/N). We've talked about it many times,” she hissed, clenching her fists on the table, without changing that sinister expression. “You can't go out, it's dangerous.”

“You worry too much,” you murmured, frowning and shaking your head. “Nothing will happen to me, it's still your territory.”

“I worry enough, tesoro,” she whispered, crossing her arms. “I don't know what I would do without you.”

“I think you're exaggerating, darling,” you said with a fake smile. “I don't think anything will happen to...”

“You can't go out!” the woman in black shouted, with an angry voice, losing control, something that happened less and less frequently.

“Donna...” you whispered, scared by her abruptness.

 It shouldn't surprise you, but your soul was suffering to see the love of your life losing control.

“I'm sorry,” she said nervously, looking at the table and shaking her head. “I just... I can't imagine that... (Y/N) you, you can fall off the cliff, you can trip and hurt yourself, do you understand? How do you think I would feel if something happened to you?”

You nodded, calmer as you saw the light in that darkness again. It seemed to take a lot of effort, but little by little, she began to control her problems, more or less.

“Um, Donna,” Angie interrupted, dispelling the uncomfortable tension that had formed between you. “Can you stop being too Donna?”

“It's none of your business,” the brunette hissed, her breathing still labored.

“Come on, silly Donna, (Y/N) is not a dog. You can't have her stuck in the house all day long,” the doll said, defending you. You raised your eyebrows but didn't intervene. “She's not stupid, nothing will happen to her.”

“Am I talking to you?” the lady asked, with a dangerous tone, getting nervous again.

“Now you are,” the puppet joked, laughing amused.

“Ugh…” Donna protested, shaking her head and getting up from the table, approaching you.

The brunette bent down, taking your hands, kneeling on the floor with a different expression, a sad, pleading one.

“Amore mio, I'm sorry…” she said in a soft voice. “I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

You nodded slowly, letting her hands caress you with soft, but trembling hands.

“I'm sorry, per favore, perdonami…” she sighed again, burying her head in your lap, soaking your dress with a tear of sadness and regret. “You are the most important thing in my life, my girl… My soul…”

“Donna…” you sighed, caressing her black hair, calming her demons little by little, comforting her in your arms. “My love…”

“If I lost you, I would…” she sobbed again, raising her head to look into your eyes.

“Shh,” you whispered softly, caressing her cheek. “You won't lose me, I promise. I promise I'll be careful of cliffs, ditches, and anything that could hurt me. Nothing will happen to me, darling, trust me.”

“O-Okay,” she said, nodding, getting up from while kissing you slowly, repentant for her irrational anger. “You're right, tesoro.”

You smiled tenderly, ending that argument.

It was funny. When Donna was in trouble, your informal nature, your self-confidence came back to lend a hand to you. Sometimes you wondered what your life would be like if you hadn't given up socializing, if that desire to talk for hours, to say everything you thought, had remained.

“You're welcome, silly...” Angie whispered, while Donna and you looked at each other in love, in silence, with the sweet glow of forgiveness on her face.

You looked amused at the doll and back at its owner, who shook her head, pulling you up from the chair so she could hug you affectionately, lovingly, letting a sigh run through your bodies as you buried your head in her black dress.

“I love you so much...” she whispered, swaying with you. “I have a hard time believing that you're really with me, it's like a dream.”

“Don't say that,” you said shyly again, with the blush on your cheeks confirming that the bad moment was over. “You know I blush easily…”

“Mm,” she murmured, stealing one last kiss from you before slowly pulling away, her gaze fixed on yours. “I like seeing you blush… You're beautiful, you know?”

“Donna,” you said looking away and giving her a playful punch on the shoulder. “Stop it…”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed amused, leaving you some room again and turning towards the table. “I'm going to pick this up, you… Well, why don't you prepare a movie?”

“Oh, I… Okay,” you said, with the blush limiting your words, walking towards the elevator until a tug on your dress stopped you.

“Hey, you, aren't you forgetting something?” Angie said, crossing her arms with a cocky tone and pose.

“Um…” you murmured, frowning, confused and looking for Donna's help. Unfortunately, the lady was busy with the dishes. “N-no, I don't know,” you stammered.

“I helped you, I demand compensation,” the doll told you, determined to not let you go.

“What do you want? you asked nervously, playing with your hands.

“Oh, it’s not complicated, just one word: Spaceships,” Angie said, with an amused tone.

Not knowing if she was joking or on the contrary, she was serious, you rolled your eyes, without answering back, hitting the elevator button.

The next day, that afternoon, you were finally able to go out for some fresh air. The meetings of the Lords were always something annoying for you, something that took Donna away from you but… That day, you really needed that walk.

Unfortunately for you, that silent walk through the forest was not entirely useful. Your head tried to get inspired, but you were unable to do so. Maybe what you needed was a break.

“Okay…” you said, closing the door of the mansion, scared when you felt a tug on your dress. “Oh, no!” you squealed, thinking that maybe someone had grabbed it.

Your face turned red from embarrassment, but not like when Donna whispered in your ear, this time it was because of the terrible ridicule you had before your eyes.

 In your clumsiness, with your mind wandering through imaginary landscapes, you had closed the door too soon, thus trapping the fabric of your dress.

“I don't believe I'm that stupid…” you muttered, pulling hard on the fabric, unable to open the door again. “Shit!” you screamed when, with a disgusting sound, the fabric tore, ruining one of your dresses, one of the ones Donna made for you. “See? That’s why I wanted to learn how to sew…” you hissed, lamenting, kicking the floor nervously.

Furious, angry with yourself for your clumsiness, cursing in ways you only used when you were alone, you went down to the bedroom to change clothes, searching in your head for the best way to ask the doll maker to fix your dress again.

“Great, (Y/N), you’re stupid…” you said to yourself, opening the closet and looking for a nice dress, one to give her a surprise you thought she deserved.

Rummaging through the clothes, something fell to the floor. It looked like a small box, like a jewelry box. You picked it up, unable to resist the temptation to open it.

Maybe there were the Beneviento family jewels. Maybe some ruby, sapphire, or precious stones would serve as inspiration for some weapon in your novel.

“What?” you said surprised when you saw its contents. There were no rings, no necklaces.

Inside that small box were photographs, a few photographs in which you were the main protagonist.

“No…” you sighed, watching yourself walking to the market, reading alone in a corner… It was obvious, although you couldn't believe it. Donna had been spying on you.

Long before she met you, before she dared to talk to you that day, she had been following you, stalking you without you realizing it.

The thoughts became confused in your mind. That idealization of the lady in black, that feeling of thinking that it wasn't your beauty that attracted her in the first place, blurred as you looked at those photographs.

You shook your head, feeling your stomach sink, how everything you thought was clouded in a fog of betrayal, of deceit.

“Everyone is the same… You too,” you said nervously, with a dark hiss, squeezing one of the photos in your hand.

You, who believed that she was the only one who loved you for who you were inside, and not on the outside, saw that, in reality, the brightness of your eyes, your face, your figure, was what attracted her attention, you didn't know how long ago.

“Why, Donna? Fuck... I thought you were different...” you lamented, passing a hand over your forehead.

Disappointment attacked your feelings, but the love you felt for the lady in black was resilient, even with that disappointment, your heart didn't change sides, it was still with her and it always would be.

“(Y/N)?” her soft voice interrupted your laments. The sound of her heels was getting closer. Apparently, that day, the meeting ended early.

A smiling Donna entered the bedroom, ignoring the scene in front of her, grabbing your waist, leaning you in a chivalrous manner and kissing you in a somewhat old-fashioned way, something that, in other circumstances, drove you crazy.

“I've missed you, tesoro…” she whispered with a tender voice, approaching your lips.

You, angry, upset by your discovery, turned your head away, pushing Donna roughly.

“(Y/N), what…?” the lady asked with a frown at your rejection. “What's wrong with you?”

“What's this, Donna?” you asked hissing, showing the lady one of the photographs, one in which you were calmly reading.

“Oh, I…” she said shyly, blinking in embarrassment due to your discovery, with the smile slowly fading from her face. “Well, I…”

“How long have you been doing this?” you asked, putting the embarrassment aside, demanding explanations with an irrational fury.

“I...I...” she stammered, desperate, nervous, shaking her head.

“I...I...” you scoffed unpleasantly. “Fuck, Donna, I thought you were different!”

“What? No, I, I just...” she said, unable to look you in the eyes, terribly embarrassed.

“You just what? Were you spying on me?” you asked, getting a little closer in a threatening way, making her back off. “Answer!”

“It's not that, I...” she said, breathing heavily. “You, you don't understand.”

“No, of course I don't understand...” you hissed, looking at the ceiling. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

Donna shook her head, her body shaking, totally humiliated.

“Because you weren't like the rest, because I thought you looked beyond my physical appearance,” you explained, pointing at her with your finger, forcing her to lower her head, to accept your reprimand.

“But, but I...” the lady interrupted, narrowing her eye. “Listen to me, I...”

“No, I don't want to listen to you, Donna,” you said, nullifying any attempt of the brunette to defend herself, to explain herself. You didn't remember having gotten that nervous, ever. “Why were you doing this? Why were you spying on me?”

“Because, because I... I, I love you...” she stammered, with a sad look. “I fell in love with you before I met you and...”

“So that's why you were secretly taking pictures of me, right? That's creepy, Donna,” you snapped, showing the photograph. “I can't believe it. You're just like everyone else…”

“No, you're wrong, I'm not like them,” the lady in black defended herself, with a tear running down her cheek, reaching out her arms to grab yours, something you prevented with an unpleasant gesture.

“You've shown me… I'm just a pretty face to you, aren't I?” you said in an ironic tone. “I always was. If you loved me before you met me it means that the only thing you cared about was my appearance, right? Then fuck you!” you shouted furiously, crumpling the photograph in your hands and letting it fall to the floor.

You were completely unhinged. Not even you could understand the reason for your anger, you simply couldn't.

“No…No, no, no, no,” Donna sobbed, throwing herself to the floor and grabbing the photograph, smoothing it again with trembling hands. “That’s my favorite…” you whispered, holding it tightly against her chest.

“They’re right about you, you’re a sick nutcase,” you hissed without thinking, letting out all that irrational rage.

Donna didn’t respond. She just closed her eye shifting on her stomach with your picture on her chest, crying inconsolably.

A spark of sanity came back to your mind, making you put a hand over your mouth, aware of what you had just said, of the damage you had done to poor Donna just because your beauty made you feel self-conscious, just because that was the reason for your hermetic attitude. You didn't want to be a pretty face, not to her.

“Gods...” you sighed, shaking your head and putting a hand on the shoulder of the lady, who was still crying inconsolably. “Gods, Donna, forgive me, I didn't mean that.”

“I just wanted...” she murmured, her voice broken by sobs. “I wanted to see you all the time... I knew, I knew I could never have you so... I took pictures of you secretly but, but it's not what you think... It's not that... It's not that!”

“Don't you understand how bad makes me feel that you noticed me because of my looks?” you asked in a softer, calmer tone.

“Is that really a bad thing?” the lady asked, putting the photograph back in the box.

You remained thoughtful, stepping back.

“N-No, I don't know,” you murmured unsurely, calming your breathing. “The truth is, I…”

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met,” Donna said, putting the box away in the closet, controlling her sobs. “I don't care if you hate me saying it. I'm not going to stop doing it.”

“Donna…” you sighed, relaxing little by little, regretting your attitude.

“Yes, I fell in love with you, always so quiet, reading anywhere, with that smile…” she whispered, bringing her trembling hand closer to your face. “You are like a Goddess to me, better than a Goddess… But I… I knew that I could never have you, that you would never love someone like me. I limited myself to looking at you from afar, dreaming of your beauty, until that day…”

“What day?” you asked, tilting your head, with a serious face, but with your eyes shining.

“The day you were talking to that boy, when you were telling him a story,” she said, without looking at you, still nervous. “Then I had no choice but to do something. Besides being a beautiful girl, you were smart, you had imagination. I had to meet you, (Y/N). I had to know if your beauty also touched your soul… And it really did.”

“That's… Very, very nice,” you said with an involuntary smile, lifting her chin. “Donna, Gods, I went too far… Forgive me…”

“I’ll always forgive you, (Y/N), you are the love of my life,” she said, placing her hand in yours. “Don't worry about the photos, I… If they disgust you that much… I'll, I'll get rid of them.”

“No, wait, honey,” you said, stopping the lady from bending down again to pick up the box. “Wait, my love… No, it's not necessary…”

“I would never do anything to hurt you, (Y/N), I live to take care of you, to love you…” Donna murmured, caressing your face erratically.

“I know, Donna, I…” you stammered, losing yourself in her gaze, in her sincere words of love. “Donna…” you sobbed, burying yourself in her arms, hugging your lover tightly, calming the delusions of your mind.

Her embrace was warm, comforting as always, strong, safe… In your head you regretted your attitude, that fury, the absurd transformation of your personality due to the interest people had in you, a physical interest, without feelings, a superficial vision of what you were on the outside and not on the inside.

The things the lady in black did, the photographs, didn't matter. Little by little you began to realize that it wasn't important.

What was important to her wasn't your appearance. It was that your beauty was linked to your soul, to your intelligence.

“Honey…” you sighed nervously, caressing her cheek, letting her arms cradle you. She looked back at you, nodding for you to speak. “Forgive me. I'm sure you'd like me to be a little more talkative or outgoing but… It's just that… Everything, everything that's happened to me, my disappointments… I…”

“Shh, don't go on, darling. It doesn't matter… I like the way you are, I love you just the way you are…” she whispered, kissing your lips softly, mixing your salty tears with the dance of a loving kiss, a sincere one, one that ended that horrible moment you both suffered.

Donna pulled away, making an effort to give you a smile, one that made your cheeks shine again with that blushing tone.

“Mm?” the lady in black murmured, when her gaze strayed to the torn sleeve of your dress. “What happened to your dress?”

“It's just that...” you murmured, moving your ankle, embarrassed. “The door caught me.”

“The door,” she said, with an amused expression, studying the damage of the seam. “Don't worry, dolcezza, I'll fix it.”

“You always fix everything, don't you?” you said shyly, looking down, only being able to hear her nervous laugh, a sweet and tender one. “Okay, let... Let me...”

Your feelings sent signals to your head as you moved away from the lady, with your cheeks flushed and your hands tremblingly traveling to the buttons of your dress, slowly undoing them, one by one.

“Tesoro, what..?” Donna asked, looking at you curiously, watching how, controlling your shyness, you took off the sleeves of your arms, thus revealing your partially covered torso.

“Shh, I'm embarrassed if you talk,” you whispered nervously. “Just let me do it by myself”

She nodded, not wanting to bother you, to intimidate you, running her gaze over all the parts of your body that were gradually becoming exposed.

“Sei una dea della bellezza,” the lady in black murmured, breathing nervously in front of your half-naked body.

“Don't even talk to me like that. Don't use Italian against me. You know I'm embarrassed…” you protested amused, grunting in shame, unable to hold her gaze.

You could sense a smile as she approached, surrounding your body with her hands, caressing your waist, your back, lifting your chin so your blushing face looked at hers.

“I will never be tired of saying how beautiful you are,” she whispered in your ear, with that melodic voice that always made you squirm, while her soft, delicate hands took advantage of your distraction to act on the clasp of your bra, unbuttoning it instantly.

You laughed again, resisting the embarrassing impulse of your hands, which asked you to cover yourself. Fighting your own shyness, you succeeded, while Donna helped you face that absurd shame with a soft kiss from her lips, with some sensual caresses on your bare back.

“Donna…” you whispered, letting yourself be carried away by the humidity of those tender kisses, by the glances, by the sighs, by that increasingly warm, an increasingly anxious atmosphere.

Your dress fell down your legs, crashing against the floor irremediably, making a shiver run through your legs, the cold making the hairs on your skin stand on end.

“Come here, amore mio… This horrible floor is not worthy of your footsteps…” Donna whispered, lifting you in her arms in an elegant way, raising your half-naked body to lay it on the bed.

“Why are you so tender?” you asked amused, crawling across the mattress, closely followed by the brunette, who began to get rid of her own clothes without taking her gaze off yours, a look of admiration, of faith, of adoration to your body, to you.

She didn't answer, she simply moved the black dress away from her body, approaching you little by little, running her hands over your legs, over your waist... Leaning down after a sigh and kissing you again.

They were sweet, tender kisses but they betrayed the passion that had begun to form in the dark bedroom. The blush on your cheeks didn't want to leave your skin, shame refused to give you a break.

You were sure that every time your lover ran her hand over your face, her skin burned from your heat.

You laughed shyly when Donna exposed her bare torso as well, when she did with her hands what yours were incapable of doing, uncovering the beautiful woman beneath that black fabric, that pale, soft skin you were addicted to.

A brave arm pulled her head, returning her lips to where they belonged, directly to yours.

Her hips began to dance over yours. The heat of her body was mixing with yours. The kisses became fiercer, wilder as her fingers enjoyed your body, the shapes and curves you were born with, that kind of cursed blessing your beauty was.

“Gods… I love you…” Donna whispered, shaking her head, unable to repress her excitement any longer, pulling down your underwear with a soft movement, studying your embarrassed face, your gaze desperately searching for a place to focus on that wasn't her body.

“I love you,” you repeated, trembling as that hand ran down your chest, the other spreading your legs, exposing you completely.

The wine seemed pale compared to your cheeks. Your whole body trembled nervously as Donna finished undressing, as she positioned herself on top of you, ready to make you hers.

“Please, if you want me to stop, just…” she said, looking for the doubt in your eyes, that unmovable blush on your cheeks when her erection brushed the moisture of your folds, when you saw for yourself what you were doing to her body.

“No, no, Donna…” you said, gaining confidence due to that obscene, lustful touch, one that you had already experienced, but that you had a hard time getting used to. “Just… Don’t, don't look at me, okay?”

The brunette laughed, delaying her entrance and shaking her head, running a hand over your reddish cheeks and another one over your leg, scratching it without harming you.

“You can't ask me that…” she whispered with a smile distorted by desire, while her hips forced her to move so as not to lose that wet contact. “Watching you is my greatest hobby… You can close your eyes.”

You obeyed, writhing from the sensations her hard shaft sent to your body, not wanting to see her gaze when making love to you, not wanting to feel the shame that would prevent you from enjoying.

“Ah, Donna…” you gasped when she finally entered slowly, letting your wet entrance adapt, without forcing, enjoying the moisture that surrounded her, the ease with which your body accepted that invasion.

“Am I hurting you, amore mio?” Donna asked in an almost silent whisper, moving more slowly until she entered completely.

You, unable to say a word, unable to bear that incredible pleasure, shook your head, running your hands around her waist, bringing her even closer to you. That gesture reached the brunette, who quickly understood the message, you wanted her to move.

You would never say anything, you would never ask for anything. The only thing you could do without dying of embarrassment was to moan, to say her name, but never interrupt or dare to ask her for something different.

The wet sound of your bodies was accompanied by discreet moans, by the random sound of your lips colliding with each other in a disorderly manner. Everything gave you pleasure: her hands, her erection deforming your walls, her soft caresses, her reassuring, flattering whispers…

You were stupid. You would never give up that, the comfort of her body inside yours, the love and understanding that only Donna could give you.

In the middle of that lustful festival, your arms moved alone, running down her back, enjoying her skin when you thought she didn't notice, when the soft but determined movements of her hips began to become erratic.

Her hands also lost their tenderness, gently grabbing your legs, lifting them at will. Just thinking about that look, that eye shining with desire as she took you… Just with that thought you let out a louder moan and your hips began to want to keep up.

It was an intense rhythm, embarrassing but not wanting to miss anything, wanting to enjoy each one of those wonderful sensations, that very sexual, erotic and hot way that Donna had of expressing her love for you.

“(Y/N)…” she moaned, losing the rhythm, moaning faster, unable to control her movements, scratching your legs, your fragile skin.

That only made you tense up, scream, say words you would never say while you noticed how your body contracted, how your walls played with her erection, hugging it, holding it, squeezing it until, overwhelmed by the pleasure of your orgasm, she released herself inside you, stopping her body as close to yours as possible, with her legs shaking and her seed sending soft and wet caresses to you.

“My love…” you sighed when the lady fell exhausted on your chest, catching her breath little by little, with a smile, not wanting to leave your wet and warm body.

“(Y/N)… Ti amo, ti amo…” she repeated over and over again, finally coming out of you and covering your face with kisses, settling you under the sheets, letting her body surround yours, protecting it from shame, from your fears…

“Donna,” you said, snuggling up to her, controlling your still agitated breathing, melting into her body in a tender embrace, far from the lust of moments before. That was the true reward, for which you fought day after day with her insecurities and with yours.

Her hugs, her caresses, her fingers tangling in your hair… That was much better than Paradise, much more pleasurable than anything else.

“Are you okay?” the lady asked after a few minutes in which your breathing was the only soundtrack. Her voice was tired, exhausted from the effort, but always, always in love.

“Yes…” you sighed, snuggling up a little more, wrapping her other arm around yourself, daring to look at her smiling face, making your ears delight in her soft and affectionate laughter. “I've never been better…”

[flightlessangelwings]

Our Souls Intertwined

sith!Obi Wan Kenobi x fem!jedi!reader

Word count- 4,580

Prompt- a lightsaber tilting up someone's chin

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), enemies to lovers, fighting, mutual pining, flirting, tension, fingering, piv sex, pet names (darling, love), praise, jedi!reader, reader is competent as a fighter and is a badass, no physical descrption of reader other than body parts, lightsaber color also never described, no use of y/n, open ending so you can decide for yourself what happens next

Notes- Written for Sith Obi Wan event @sithobiwanevent and oh boy did I have so much fun with this one!! I hope y'all enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Please let me know what you think!!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

^ gif credit linked above (thank you wonderful person for making that gif!!)

~

It was an epic battle. The whir of lightsabers filled the air. Red clashed with various colors as Lord Obi Wan Kenobi, feared and powerful sith lord, fought his way through the waves of jedi that came at him. A dark smirk graced his face as he sliced through some padawans, easily defeating the young opponents in front of him. Around him, his army fired from their blasters. It was chaos, and he thrived on it. The energy around him whirled, and he harnessed the power of the force to his advantage.

It was then that Kenobi saw you.

He brushed a lock of hair that had fallen on his face to watch you battle the enemy droids that surrounded you. He saw the strain in your jaw as you parried the blaster fire that came your way before you ran and stabbed those that shot at you. Kenobi was actually impressed by the way you handled yourself, and he actually had to take a breath to calm the thoughts that flooded his mind.

Swinging his red saber in a dramatic circle, Kenobi rushed over to you, calling your name as he got within range.

You whipped around, your own lightsaber at the ready as you braced yourself from the impact of Kenobi’s weapon.

“Hello there,” Kenobi smirked.

“Kenobi,” you strained as you countered his attack and parried with one of your own.

“Lovely to see you again, darling,” he quipped.

You just grunted as you volleyed your weapon. Ignoring the way Kenobi’s yellow eyes bore into you as if they were looking into your soul, you focused on the red of his blade. The two of you fought each other one on one, your blades crossing each other as if you were in a dance. The rest of the battle seemed to fade away and all that existed was each other.

“You’ve improved, darling,” Kenobi observed as he lunged at you with more force, electricity cackling as his saber crushed against yours.

“Don’t call me that, Kenobi,” you growled back, fighting both his physical assault and the way your heart secretly fluttered in your chest whenever he called you any term of endearment. The smoothness of his voice always went right to your core, as much as you tried to push it away. 

It only took that one fraction of a second for Kenobi to gain the advantage. Just the slight loosening of your lightsaber was all it took for him to knock it out of your hand and use the force to push you onto the ground. You spat a curse under your breath as you tried to channel the force to pull your saber back into your hand, but Kenobi’s boot caught it before it slid close enough for you to grasp it.

“Shit,” you muttered as you scrambled to your knees.

Before you could rise completely, red filled your vision. The hum of Kenobi’s lightsaber rang in your ears as you suddenly found yourself paralyzed. Sweat lined your brow as he used the tip of his saber to gently force your vision up to meet his gaze. He was careful, though, careful not to actually touch the blade to your skin and hurt you. Instead, Kenobi used the force to angle your head up.

In one hand, Kenobi held his lightsaber and the other he held up with two fingers as he controlled the force around the two of you. His eyes matched the red of his blade as his gaze pierced into you.

Helpless, you swallowed hard, “If you’re going to kill me, Kenobi,” you tried to sound strong, though you were sure your voice was strained, “Just get it over with. Don’t toy with me like this.”

“Why would I kill you, darling?” he purred, clearly enjoying having you helpless on your knees before him.

The question caught you off guard.

“Why not join me?” he asked in a smooth tone, “I could help you hone your skills. You could fight at my side instead of against me.”

You inhaled sharply, “You asked me that before, Kenobi,” you steadied your breath as you focused your feelings and reigned in your emotions, “And my answer is still no.”

He smiled darkly, “Still as stubborn as ever I see,” he actually sounded impressed, “But I see there is no changing your mind yet, love.” Kenobi released you and retracted his lightsaber. 

With a gasp, you fell forward and your face smashed into the ground. Quickly, you scrambled to your hands and knees only to find Kenobi had put some distance between the two of you.

“Until next time, darling,” he gave you a quick wave of his fingers before he disappeared into a dust cloud.

You were left alone and astonished. Why hadn’t he killed you? Why did he leave you alive? Again? Swallowing hard, you ignored the way your heart pounded in your chest as you grabbed your lightsaber and ran back to help the other jedi.

*

It wasn’t long before you met Kenobi again on the battlefield. Lightsabers clashed as you fought him on the desolate planet. You weren’t even sure which planet you were on, only that it was barren and filled mostly with sand and boulders and caves. Lightsabers and blasters clashed in the dunes and rocks of the desolate planet. 

“You get better every time I see you, darling,” Kenobi smirked, “If you were to join me, I could make you even greater.”

“Keep dreaming, Kenobi,” you countered back. 

“Oh I do see you in my dreams, darling,” he grinned, enjoying how his words threw you off for a moment.

The two of you battled each other, moving away from the rest of the battlefield and the others without realizing it. You grunted as you tried to focus your energy into finally beating him, but the way his yellow eyes stared into your soul distracted you. And all it took was a moment, just one flash of an instant, for you to lose your edge.

One misstep and you tumbled down the rocky ridge that hosted your duel with the sith lord. But, before you hit the ground, you found yourself suspended in the air. Looking up, you saw Kenobi rush toward you, shouting your name. In a fit of frustration, you channeled the force and pushed that energy towards him, attempting to knock him off balance.

It did, and Kenobi fell back. However, the rush of force energy also hit a large pile of large rocks and boulders. The ground rumbled beneath your body and you knew this was greater trouble than the sith in front of you. In an instant, your goal changed from beating Kenobi to getting out of the rockslide alive. 

Looking behind him, he noticed the danger too and he bolted toward you and pulled you off the ground, “Run!” Kenobi yelled as he grabbed your hand.

The rockslide felt like it was caving in around you as you ran, your hand in his. Kenobi led you towards a cave, an opening that seemed to be your only way of escaping the cascading boulders around you both. As the dust clouded your vision and the crashing of the rocks around you made it hard to hear, you had no choice but to put your trust in him.

Kenobi got you both into the cave with just a fraction of a second to spare. Both of you crashed to the ground as the boulders piled up at the entrance, blocking you in. You let out a heavy exhale as the dust settled, and the only beams of light that lit up the small cave came from higher up.

The cave was shallow, and you could see the end of it. That meant there was no way out except for how you came in. And how you came in was currently blocked with dozens of large boulders. The beams of light came from small openings between the rocks, but they weren’t big enough to crawl through. Inside the cave, there were only the two of you, along with rocks scattered throughout the floor.

“Are you alright?” Kenobi asked with genuine concern in his voice.

“I’m fine,” you replied immediately as you tried to stand. However, when you tried to move your arm, you hissed in pain, “Shit…” you grabbed your shoulder and felt blood soak your hand.

“No you’re not,” Kenobi rushed to you, inspecting your wound and swallowing the fear that threatened to bubble over in his mind.

“I’ll be ok,” you tried to ignore his worry over you, “It’s not that bad.”

He pursed his lips as he looked at your shoulder then back to where the boulders piled high, trapping you in together, “It’s too high to climb,” he observed, “And it’ll take both of us to move all the boulders,” Kenobi turned back to you, “Which you can’t do with that injury,” he reached for your shoulder again, “Let me.” His heart fluttered in his chest as he saw the blood seep from your shoulder, and he hated the sinking feeling he had when he saw you hurt.

Before you could protest, Kenobi covered your injury with his hand and let out a long slow breath. Mouth opened in shock, you felt warmth on your injury and you felt the energy of the force flow from him into you. You watched him for a moment before you closed your eyes and surrendered yourself, feeling the force flow between your bodies as if it cradled and protected you both. Warmth embraced you as you felt rejuvenated from what Kenobi was doing.

With a gasp, Kenobi broke away from you as his eyes shot open. He backed away as he hunched forward, weak from the energy he expended. You let out a gasp of your own as you watched him crawl to a rock to steady himself before he lifted his body to sit.

“How were you able to do that?” you asked in shock as you cradled your now uninjured shoulder.

Kenobi just looked at you, “Well I wasn’t always a sith, darling,” he gave you a genuine soft smile.

The question came out before you could stop it, “What happened?”

His smile turned mischievous, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes.

Changing the subject with a heavy sigh, Kenobi said, “It looks like we’ll be here for a while. I need to recover my strength if we are to move those boulders,” he looked around, “Might as well get comfortable.”

Your body remained stiff as you stayed on high alert. Your saber was at your side, yet you made sure your hand was never far from it. The muscles in your jaw clenched harder as you watched Kenobi visibly relax on a rock, leaning back and resting his leg in front of him.

“I’m not going to attack you,” he said in a calm tone after feeling your heavy gaze on him for several long moments.

“Then what are you going to do?” you asked, guard still up but chipped away just the slightest. 

Kenobi smirked as he stood, “What would you like me to do, darling?” he purred as he took a step towards you.

You took a step back, keeping the distance between you. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way you felt the force move around you whenever he was near, and especially when it was now just the two of you trapped and alone. And you were sure he felt it too.

“I…” 

The two of you kept up this dance, Kenobi stepping forward and you stepping back until you hit a wall. His body was relaxed; he wasn’t hunting you. Instead, it was as if he was approaching you at a bar, friendly almost. Your heart pounded in your chest, yet it wasn’t from fear.

“I have something in mind,” his tone was low yet soft as he stepped into your space.

You swallowed hard as you pressed your back against the wall, feeling him against you. Kenobi placed a hand on one side of your head as his gaze bore into your soul.

“And I think you have the same thought as I do,” he continued as he leaned into you.

“How do you know?” you tried to sound tough, but you didn’t even fool yourself. You dropped your gaze to the ground, avoiding his eyes.

Kenobi let out an amused huff as he took two fingers and gently guided your face to look back up and meet his eyes. It was a similar feeling from last time when you met him on the battlefield and he used his saber to force you to look at him. Both times, you should have felt threatened, in danger. And yet, you didn’t. Not then, and certainly not now. No, it was a different feeling that pulsed through your veins.

“Because,” he said in almost a whisper, “You aren’t pushing me away.”

Your mouth dropped open as you realized that he was not trapping you at all. The only contact he made was his fingers on your chin, which you could have easily brushed off. Kenobi hovered close to you, yet he gave you a clear path out if you chose to take it. Yet, you didn’t. You chose to stay there, in his gaze.

“Why don’t you just take what you want from me?” you asked.

“Darling,” he sounded almost offended, “I would never do that to you. I would never hurt you,” he sighed, “I want you on your own volition.”

“Obi Wan…” you breathed his name… his first name you realized. 

His yellow eyes went wide as his jaw clenched, “No one has called me that in… A long time,” he sighed, “It sounds lovely in your voice.”

You let out a deep breath as you felt his breath on your lips.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he murmured, “And say my name again.” It wasn’t a command, but a request. It was his way of giving you one last out should you choose.

Your eyes darted from his yellow ones down to his lips and you swallowed hard, “Kiss me… Obi Wan.”

The moment the words left your lips he crashed his into yours. Your moan was muffled from the kiss, but you instantly melted into it, grasping at his black robes as you parted your lips for him. Obi Wan took the invitation eagerly and slipped his tongue past your lips, tasting you, savoring you. He groaned into you as he finally touched you, one hand grabbing your hip while the other cradled your jaw. 

In your studies as a jedi, you trained to feel the force around you and how to harness it. You had an exceptional understanding of it, and learned to control it much faster than your classmates. As a knight, your power only grew. But, it wasn’t until you kissed the sith lord Obi Wan Kenobi that you fully understood the true feeling of the force wrapping itself around you and how it bound two souls together. You had never felt anything like this in your life before. And from the way he groaned into you, you were sure he felt the same way.

“You taste divine, lovely,” he purred against your lips before he kissed you again, his beard ticking your face as he devoured you.

“Obi Wan…” you whispered as you broke the kiss for a breath of air. You tilted your head to the side as he kissed his way along your jaw and down your neck, sending goosebumps across your skin as he hit more sensitive spots, “Touch me. Please,” you pleaded.

“It would be my pleasure, darling,” he groaned as his hands roamed across your chest.

His hands slipped under your jedi robes and cupped your breasts. He let out a satisfied growl when you mewled in pleasure under his touch, and he could help the way he kneaded and caressed your soft mounds. Kenobi felt a jolt within him when he pinched your nipples and made you cry out louder.

He hummed as his hands made their way down your body, his eyes never moving from your face the entire time. Kenobi didn’t want to miss a single expression as he worshiped you with his hands. He paused for a moment when his fingers reached the top of your pants, but when you didn’t protest or push him away, he dipped a hand underneath the fabric.

Both of you gasped as Obi Wan’s hand cupped your pussy. While your eyes fluttered shut and you arched your back against the wall, his stayed open, watching you with great interest. Your mouth dropped open as he carefully pushed two fingers into you.

“Fuck!” you cried out as you grasped at his shoulders for balance.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he thrust his fingers in and out of you. Obi Wan couldn’t tear his eyes away from you even if he wanted to. Every little expression you made, every little sound of pleasure that escaped your lips, even how your pussy felt around him… you were everything to him.

“Obi Wan…” you whined as your mind swam in the bliss his fingers gave you. 

Oh how he loved it when you said his name. Obi Wan’s eyes burned with passion as he growled and thrust his fingers into you harder. His cock strained with need, but he ignored it in favor of pleasuring you. As he buried his fingers deep inside you, Obi Wan rutted against your body, covering you with himself as heat rose between you.

“Please… I’m close…” you moaned as you felt dizzy. You tightened your grip on him, knowing he would be there to hold you and keep you steady.

“Show me how beautiful you are when you cum, darling,” he groaned as he picked up his pace with his fingers.

It only took a few more deep thrusts for you to come undone. Your body trembled in his grip as you came hard with a loud scream of his name. Tears filled your eyes as you felt overwhelmed between the emotions that pulsed through your body as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers. And just as you felt breathless, he kissed you again, even more deeply this time.

You whimpered as Obi Wan slowly pulled his fingers out of you and your chest rose and fell with your heavy breaths. When he broke away, you finally looked into his eyes and saw the fire that burned behind them. “Fuck me, Obi Wan.”

He smiled at you as he grabbed you and spun you around. In a flash, you found yourself on your back, his cape underneath you as he quickly yanked and tugged at both your clothing. Depreciation took over both of you as you worked to quickly strip each other until you are both completely bare.

“Wow,” you breathed as you stared at him.

“Exquisite,” he moaned as he lunged forward and kissed you once more, his hips rutting against the fold of your pussy as he started to lose control of himself.

Obi Wan lost even more control as he pushed the tip of his cock into you. Both of you gasped and cried out as you felt him slowly enter you. You clawed at his back as more of his cock stretched you out inch by inch. And Obi Wan growled as your warmth engulfed him, driving him wild.

“Obi Wan…” you whined.

“I know, darling,” he muttered as he rocked back and thrust forward. 

A string of curses escaped both your lips as he rocked in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot inside you with precision every single time. You screamed as your vision blurred and you dug your nails more into his back. But it only spurred him on more, thrusting harder and faster into you as he became more and more desperate.

Screams and groans echoed in the cave and skin slapped against skin. Obi Wan would have wanted this to last longer, but you were too beautiful, too enticing, too perfect. Sweat lined his brow as locks of hair stuck to his forehead as he thrust into you with abandon. 

“Cum for me, darling,” he growled as he felt his own climax build, “Cum with me.”

“Fuck!” you cried out as your breasts swung back and forth with every thrust of his hips.

With a scream, your second orgasm hit you like a bantha and your legs trembled on either side of his body as he continued to pound into you. Obi Wan growled your name as your orgasm triggered his and he came deep into you, grunting and moaning as he spilled himself inside your body.

Obi Wan kept going as long as he could, rocking into your wet pussy hard enough to feel the splash of your release soak your bodies. But, as he rode out both your climaxes, neither of you had anything left to give and he pulled out of you after one final thrust. 

You gasped as you felt the sudden emptiness and your eyes shot open to watch him hover over you with an inferno in his gaze. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you stared back at him and suddenly you were keenly aware of how naked you still were. Heavy breaths echoed around you as you both lost yourselves in each other.

Sensing your shift, Obi Wan took a deep breath and composed himself. He leaned over and gathered your jedi robes and handed them to you, “Here,” he said before he turned his back to you to give you some privacy.

Neither of you were sure why he did that, after he just fucked you. but you welcomed it either way. Both of you were silent as you redressed. Your heart still beat wildly in your chest as you felt the ghost of his touch on your skin and you replayed what just happened in your head.

“Anger. Fear. Loss,” Obi Wan broke the silence after he slipped on his pants and robe, leaving it open to bare his chest to you still.

“What?” Your voice was just a whisper as you spun around to face him.

“How I turned to the dark side,” Obi Wan said in a soft voice, one that you guessed he hadn’t used in some time, “There was someone… very dear to me. Someone that I loved with everything I had. Someone…” he took in a shaky breath as he ran his hands through his hair, “I couldn’t save… No matter how hard I tried.”

You watched with wide eyes as he bared his soul to you with his confession. You guessed the way his story ended without him having to say it out loud. You both knew the path to the dark side, and how his loss led to his fall. You crossed the space to stand face to face with him as you placed a hand on his chest.

“I swore then that I would never care for anyone like that again,” Obi Wan turned away from you, breaking the contact he craved so deeply, “And I hadn’t since…” he turned back to meet your gaze, “Until now.”

A gasp escaped your lips, “Obi Wan…?”

He gave you a sad smile, one that you couldn’t decipher its meaning. Before you could say anything else, though, he turned to the wall of boulders, “I think we can move it now,” he said as he tightened his robe around him.

You followed his gaze with your own and nodded, “Ok.” The disappointment in your tone was clear. 

“Concentrate all your energy,” he told you, “You hold them steady, I will push them out of our way. When you see an opening, you run. Understand?”

You wanted to protest. You wanted to tell him to run with you, to stay at your side. But the seriousness in his expression told you it wasn’t worth the energy to argue. “Got it.”

Both of you raised your arms, channeling the force toward the boulders. You grunted as you kept the large rocks steady while Obi Wan worked on moving them out of the way. He started with the smaller ones at the top, but when he got to the middle, it all started to collapse.

“Steady!” he shouted.

You gritted your teeth as you strained to keep the bigger ones steady. Dust started to fill the air as everything moved. When Obi Wan got to the center, he called your name, “Run! Now! Go!”

Doing as you were told, you bolted forward into the dust. You tried to keep the rocks steady as you ran, but the more you exerted yourself, the harder it got. The ground rumbled as the boulders tumbled out of the way, creating dust clouds so thick that you couldn’t see through.

Once you were out and clear from the rocks, you turned around and screamed, “Obi Wan!” You streamed to look for him through the dust, but for several moments, you couldn't. You reached through the force, pushing the rocks out of the way to search for him.

Just when you were about to lose hope, you saw his silhouette in the dust, “Obi Wan,” you sighed in relief as you ran to him. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, embracing him hard, “You’re ok.”

He smiled at you as he held you close, just as relieved as you were, “I’m alright, darning.”

You looked into his eyes, and for a moment you saw no sign of the sith yellow that usually illuminated them. In front of you now wasn’t a sith lord or empire general, but just a man. As you held each other, you felt the sense that there was much left unspoken, but the sound of an engine in the distance forced those thoughts to remain unsaid.

“It’s a rebel transport,” he said, “They must have seen the dust cloud from our escape. They’ll pick you up, and you’ll be safe.”

“But what about you?” you turned back to face him.

Obi Wan smiled at you as he cupped the side of your face, “I’ll be alright, darling, don’t you worry.” He paused for a moment, as if he wanted to kiss you again, but he decided not to, “Now go,” he nudged you forward as he retreated back.

You turned toward the incoming ship, waving your hands so that they spotted you. As it hovered closer, blowing your robes up into the wind, you spoke to him with your back still turned, “Obi Wan, come with…” you turned around to find him gone, “Me.” Your shoulders dropped in disappointment as the ship landed and the clones called your name.

“You’re alright! We were looking for you,” they said as they ushered you onto the ship.

From the shadows in the distance, Obi Wan Kenobi watched as you got on board and were flown away to safety. He sensed the thought in your mind, and he fled before you could ask it. He knew he would not have the strength to deny your request had he heard you speak it. Blowing a kiss into the air, he whispered, “Until we meet again, my love,” before he turned and went the opposite direction. 

Be safe, he released his thought across the planes to you. 

[shigayokagayama]

mob warriors au redesigns and such, some i barely changed and others i pretty much started from scratch lol

full canvas and explanations under the cut, theres a bunch of other characters and stuff i didnt manage to fit or didnt have the energy to draw that ill probably get around to in the coming future

so by virtue of mob psycho kind of acting as a parody of a shonen in a lot of its characters and usage of tropes i felt like it was fitting that a warriors au sort of act as a parody of warriors.

basically, pretty much every major character is either a house cat of some sort, but they all see clan cats as these sort of cool aspirational things so they give themselves warrior names and know of general clan concepts (though, since the nearby clan left a long time ago due to twoleg construction on their territory, these concepts have sort of become distorted over time. istg i came up with this before warriorclan me and erin hunter just have some odd psychic link)

saltsplash (reigen) is a declawed kittypet who loves the taste of freshkill, so he has taken on the persona of a former medicine cat who came from far away on some sort of spiritual quest to help the cats in this area (in reality his owners just moved here) in order to get cats to catch prey for him in exchange for advice. flockpaw (mob) comes to him for advice, since he can see spirits and keeps getting dreams from starclan, and saltsplash agrees to take him as an apprentice

there is a pretty significant ghost problem in the area, the destruction of the moonstone equivalent (this isnt the setting of og warriors because i find switching what region/biome theyre in to be kind of part of the fun to making warriors aus so this is still japan. cats can now encounter monkeys.) has left a lot of souls trapped in the physical plane and unable to pass on. dimple (still going back and forth on his name) is one of these cats, he was a clan cat but so long ago that he's forgotten his original life and only remembers the goal of "bring back the clans with yourself as leader", which he initially tries to posses random cats to do before meeting flockpaw and settling on him as a good potential clan leader

the actual clans, meanwhile, have gone way downhill since they moved away. their numbers were dwindling pretty badly when hawkstar (toichiro) took over his clan, renamed it clawclan, conquered the other clans in the area and marked all his dissenters with scars, and has forged forward with the goal of reconquering their old territory in the twolegplace in the hopes that it will bring the clans back to their glory days. a lot of the more sensible cats, including his mate, have left the clan, so he's resorted to recruiting outsiders as well as kidnapping young cats with warrior potential in order to fill out their numbers

other stuff i dont want to write entire paragraphs for

-teru was someones outdoor cat but his owners moved :( he named himself starpaw and everyone who knows shit about the clans tries to tell him hes not allowed to do that but are too scared to argue further with him about it because he gets really pissed when you point it out

-the telepathy clubs goal is to meet lions, which everyone thinks arent real

-the awakening lab is mitsuura (curlystar maybe?)'s attempt to start his own clan

-the student council is a gang of young kittypets who have tasked themselves with enforcing "the warrior code" among the delinquents (rivals gangs of young alley cats). all the older cats see this as a game theyre playing and dont take it seriously

-flashpaw (mezato) was part of dimple's initial play to brainwash a bunch of cats into reforming a clan and worshiping "starclan" (him) and those group of cats have shifted to seeing flockpaw as starclans prophet, so she's trying to convince HIM to start a new clan

-rainshade (serizawa) was initially a kittypet who always hid in his cat carrier out of his fear of his starclan given powers, hawkstar found him on one of his recruiting missions because his mother was worried for him and was asking around for someone with experience with starclan

-mogami (crowflight maybe? maggotsomething?) was an actual former warrior who went to twolegplace to get help for his sick mother after starclan said there was nothing that could be done for her. kittypets offered to get her help in exchange for him helping them with spirit problems and got their owners to bring her to the cutter (vet) and when they did the vets put her down so he started killing cats about it seeing them all as selfish thugs beyond redemption before his own death and transformation into a vengeful spirit

-minori (still thinking of a name bc i dont have her design down) is someones very haughty purebred show cat who gets hella possessed.

-didnt anyone ever teach you feeding downed fledglings was bad manners?

-SunClan (the rising sun union) are a gang of random housecats, some of whom have actual StarClan connections and others are just opportunistic liars, who use extremely predatory means to help cats with their ghost problems (asking for a specific share of a cat's meals permanently rather than saltsplash's ask of like. one fresh songbird)

thats all the stuff i can think of off the top of my head but if you ask questions i can probably answer them bc ive been thinking about this since like. march 2022.

[angel-calypso]

oh i need one with erik🫦 where y/n thinks he and raven have something and she gets really sad and heartbroken… (I leave the ending to you) (srry english not my first language)

i hope this is sorta what you were asking!!! i did my best 😽

Mistaken part one

i really loved writing this. but be mindful it's my first work in probably over two years since school ended for me. i tried my best so sorry if it's not up to standards i'll get back in soon. I also don't have a laptop, so this is all being typed out in my phone and edited. I'm so sorry if there's mistakes i'm trying my best i swear

erik lehnsherr x reader. not sure if there's any warnings or triggers. just a heartbroken reader for a tad. hope you all enjoy. it is part one, i'm working two jobs right now and im going to try and put out part two soon

It had been a few weeks since you moved into the mansion. Charles had invited you to stay with the team after you had helped them on a mission. You hadn't known there were other people like yourself. Mutants. You always thought it was a derogatory word, but when you had stumbled upon the team fighting some lunatic, you had seen how beautiful and powerful the word mutant could be. You were seven when your mutation appeared. It allows you to control plants, dirt, small pebbles, you could feel the Earth in your veins. Since moving in, Hank has studied you, absolutely fascinated with your mutation, as he is with all of theirs.

The first couple days, you kept to yourself. Keeping quiet during dinners, just observing and listening. occasionally someone would ask you a question. Normally Erik, who seemed to always be wanting to know more about you. He would smile at you, always ready to start a conversation. Eventually, with time, you found yourself invited to Charles' office at night, having a drink and watching him and Erik play chess. You grew incredibly fond of these nights. The three of them were laughing and talking into the late hours of the night. Sometimes you would fall asleep there, but seemed to somehow always wake up in your bed. As you grew to love those nights, you found yourself falling in love with Erik. His beautiful eyes that followed you everywhere you went, the way he would catch your eye and walk over to you every time. The morning tea and lunch picnics. You had just barely started convincing yourself that maybe, he felt the same. that maybe you had a real chance at something with him.

“you know, we outta teach you how to play darling.” Charles pulled you out of your thoughts one night. They had been in silence for a few minutes, awaiting his next move. You had been watching intently trying to balance your thoughts, the game, and if you were honest the occasional stare at Erik. The way he sat calmly in the back of his chair, holding his drink in one hand and tapping his armrest with the other. Plotting his moves. He always looked so handsome in the warm light of the office. The drinks are always getting to you, always having to stop yourself from reaching out and taking his hand.

“I'd much rather watch you two play.” You had finally pulled your eyes off of Erik to look at Charles with his knowing smile. you blushed slightly, hoping charles wasn't in your head, always forgetting of the telepath. Erik laughed unaware of the interaction between the two.

“I think y/n would have you beat Charles” Erik chimed in. You smiled, sometimes you thought he thinks too highly of you.

“Yeah right, she'd be too distracted,” Charles playfully scoffed. At this you asked if they needed another drink. She got up, noticed the bottle was left in the kitchen tonight, and walked out with hers and Erik's cup. When you came back, you noticed a new arrival had joined them for the first time. You hadn't met her yet but assumed it to be Raven, Charles’ sister. She had been on a mission for the last couple months. you would've loved meeting her, if it wasn't for the sight you walked in on leaving your heart in your stomach. Raven was hugging Erik, her legs wrapped around him. You didn't hear anything being said, the blood rushing through your ears a loud roar. But you had seen enough. You walked over to your seat. Charles knew something was off, you begged him not to be in your mind for this. you hoped he wouldn't. You didn't notice upon seeing you, Erik grew the biggest smile, almost immediately letting go of Raven and whispering to her. She also smiled, putting her hand out to you.

“you must be y/n!!! I'm Raven, I've heard so much about you. I'm so glad to meet you! “ Under other circumstances you would've loved meeting her, finally meeting charles’ sister he would always talk about. But the tinge of seeing her all over Erik tainted the meeting. You told her it was nice to meet her, sending her a small smile while shaking her hand. It wasn't her fault. You let go and hand Erik his drink.

“Thank you Meine Liebe” You would normally love and melt at this, Erik had fooled you. You just nodded your head. you were willing yourself not to cry just yet. The stinging in your eyes daring to disobey you. A few minutes go by and you excuse yourself off to bed. Before anyone could say anything you were out the door.

translations Meine liebe- My love in german

I know i know, it's pretty short. I'll work on part two as quickly as i can. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in part 2!!!

[physalian]

On Hyper Independent Characters (and how not to make them the bad guy)

So many characters with “trust issues” are painted out to be cynical little gremlins who just need to ~open their hearts~ and ~let the love in~ like doing so, repeatedly, has only proven them right every single time, but this one love interest will swoop in and save the day.

The people who write these characters tend to do so in bad faith, as if their fears and trust issues are unfounded nonsense, like they’re wrong and Negative Nellys for being wary.

So!

From experience (thus this is hella biased), here’s some thoughts on writing an independent character with trust issues that isn’t belittling.

1. It’s likely not that kind of trust they have issues with

I said this before a while ago, but “trust issues” paired with an extreme sense of self-reliance isn’t “I think everyone is a liar,” but rather “I think everyone is unreliable”. It might stem from a place of constantly being let down, of constantly having the people in their life drop the ball on major events, but also little things, even something as simple as “hey yeah I’ll totally do the dishes” and then they continue to sit there, forcing the person to be a nag about it, or just do it themselves.

These kinds of personalities tend to grow up surrounded by unkept and empty promises, where, while it might not be every single occasion, it happens one too many times for them to keep giving the benefit of the doubt. Even when people have the best of intentions and mean it when they say they’ll do XYZ in the moment, and they really just forgot, the person they made the promise to is impatiently waiting for them to remember 12-day-old dishes.

2. Why don’t they just remind people to keep their promises?

If you’re in my boat, many people with commitment issues are also narcissists or just mean, who, if you even gently remind them, make you out to be a nagging, impatient brat. And to avoid hearing that again, you just don’t speak up. Too many times where ‘forgetting’ has been from a source of a weird power fantasy, intentionally screwing you over, leaves people sitting in a state of unknowing whether it’s benign neglect or very much on purpose, and afraid to voice their concerns to be proven right.

If you’re not in my boat, chronic “forgetters” aren’t going to change without intervention. So if I ask you to do the dishes once, and you forget, that’s one thing. If I ask you twice, three times, four times, nagging over and over again, then the benefit of the doubt is shredded, and I can’t help but assume that the “forgetting” is on purpose. Either weaponized incompetence or something more benign, doesn’t matter. Even if you have some executive dysfunction, that's an explanation, not an excuse, and the people you live with aren't your maids.

Either way, these personalities might grow up with a whole slew of self-worth issues, and be reluctant to make plans with people, invite friends to important events, or get excited about big milestones, because they’re so used to people they care about “forgetting” or canceling last minute that the only one they can trust to reliably show up is themselves.

3. Why don’t they just communicate these fears?

See the “narcissists” in point 2

4. Isn’t it lonely never letting people in?

Fuck yeah, it is. The thing is, though, that if you spend your whole life learning how to do everything alone—pay your bills, do ‘couple’ or ‘friend’ activities, run errands, take yourself out to places—the idea of having to squeeze in the wants and needs of someone else might start to sound incredibly inconvenient.

If you’re so used to being on your own schedule and reaping the benefits of being a party of 1 in crowded spaces (I just took myself to dinner at a place with an hour long wait, able to be seated immediately at the last remaining barstool), of not having to wait for someone else to confirm plans, negotiate who’s driving, negotiate a time to meet up, food to order, a movie to see, a roller coaster to ride, a game or streaming service to buy—everything is entirely under your control, sacrificing convenience for the chance that the person you invite actually shows up on time and is invested as you are isn’t really worth the risk.

That's not to say I don't enjoy when I get to do things with friends, but I can equally enjoy doing things alone as opposed to whining about it.

Personally, while I can daydream about having a romantic partner, that thought is always immediately followed up by the understanding that they’ll be an inconvenience to my independence. But I’m someone who’s always had to do the emotional labor in a relationship, who’s always the most organized, the most mature, the most level-headed in tough situations. Always been the person in groupwork who does all the work. The idea of being “a team” is a fantasy meant for other people. “Team” to me is “me and this deadweight that I have to drag around”.

5. How I’d like to see this represented in characters

Dropping “the one” into their lives and having this person swept up, broken out of their little pessimistic shell, in some epic romance, as if they only needed to find the right person and nothing at all goes wrong… is bad faith.

It’s bad faith because it minimizes this kind of independence as just a little mood problem that can be fixed right quick, that it’s inherently wrong—what was all the fuss about?

What I’d like to see is examples that prove they’re not crazy. Big and little things. Dishes, and big events. Then, they can meet “the one,” but not without some trial and error. A lifetime of “people suck and are unreliable” isn’t going to be snapped away bibbidi bobbidi boo after one good date. This magical person will have to show up, and keep showing up, and keep showing up, and the one time they don’t, because they won’t, then A and B can hash it out like adults.

6. How this person might act

I’ve never actually met somebody like me and we’d either be best friends or loathe each other. But this person might be the most reliable friend you’ve ever had, because they’re so afraid of becoming like everyone in their life who let them down before. If you ask a favor of them, it gets done with supernatural haste.

This person might also have their own commitment issues, where instead of failing to keep their promises, they punish themselves by keeping promises they hate, showing up out of spite and resentment because they said they would, lest they be called a hypocrite.

They might under-share or not speak up about accomplishments in their life until the time for hype and anticipation has passed, lest they share expecting the same level of excitement only to be met with apathy. They might not show visible excitement about objectively exciting things, because they’re so used to plans falling through that they won’t believe something is happening until they are physically in the location and it’s staring them in the face.

Thus, they might look frequently bored or unhappy and unmoved by something important to you, or something you thought they’d like (especially if you’ve let them down before, trust is a privilege, not a right).

7. What I’d like people to understand most of all

First, that some of us tend to live by the “if you want something done right do it yourself” mantra, so actually asking somebody for help with something is admitting that X cannot be done alone, which makes failure to keep a promise even worse. As in, if A goes out of their way to admit they can’t do F alone and risk being let down to ask B to do this one little thing for them, and B still drops the ball, A is going to sit there and think “this is why I have trust issues”.

Can’t speak for everyone, but yes I do acknowledge that the suffering in silence isn’t helping anyone and am working on it. Counterpoint: Weaponized incompetence is very real and an adult should not have to remind another adult to keep their living space clean, at the bare minimum. Agreeing to do a thing is at least equal responsibility on the inviter and invitee and "you didn't remind me" isn't a valid excuse.

But most importantly, if you have a friend or relative who is fiercely independent, I’d implore you to learn one thing: Do not make promises that you can’t keep. And if shit happens and you have to cancel even when you had the best of intentions, have the decency to tell them and make the best effort you can to reschedule ASAP, instead of putting the impetus on them to do the rescheduling. Make it absolutely clear that you do, in fact, care, and weren’t going out of some apathetic sense of obligation.

I cannot count the amount of times I have asked a friend to do something for me, they eagerly agreed, and then my very real deadlines come and go and they say absolutely nothing, so I have to nag them, and nag them, and then they turn it back on me with a “obviously you can see that I’m busy and you’re not paying me for this” when all they had to do was say “no I can’t help you” (two whole humans; we are not friends anymore).

The ability to be approached with a request for a favor, step back and think about it, and go “No, I don’t think I can do that in that time frame/at this moment I’m going through a lot/with the skill the task requires” is apparently ridiculously rare. I’d infinitely prefer a no upfront than a yes, bank on that yes, and then wait around hoping someone follows through.

Not saying anything is really rude. If you agree to X, the person who asked you is fully expecting you to do X. They shouldn’t have to be lining up backup plans and last minute helpers scrambling to do the job you promised would get done.

—

Not exaggerating when I say it happens in so many areas. I’ve needed very important things like recommendation letters, or actual paid beta readers on a very hard deadline and still scrambled at the last minute to find replacements that sometimes cost real money for rush fees. I’ve been left waiting at an event for an hour minimum only to finally receive a ‘hey I can’t come’ text and then go home. I’ve told people multiple times, “hey, if you’re going to do X, please do it like this and have some consideration for my things that you’re borrowing” and just… be ignored.

As somebody who gets whatever’s asked of me done immediately, no matter how busy I am, man is it hard to keep accepting “sorry I forgot” as an excuse, from multiple people, multiple times.

The nice thing, though, the big benefit of hyper-independence is that I have learned so many skills out of a compulsion to just do it myself instead of gambling with the accountability of another flighty human. Handyman things for my home and my car, but artistic things, too. So there’s that.