#christmas waltz au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rottiens · 7 months ago

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NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA

✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.

✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+

✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. . 18K

Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance.

You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden.

You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.

You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.

The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy."

Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing.

The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground.

Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.

This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music.

One, two and... up!

You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—

"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear.

You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid.

Don't throw up, don't throw up.

You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background.

This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop.

You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once.

Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally.

You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly?

Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom.

You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still.

"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near.

"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't.

"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity.

His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference.

Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly.

"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes."

"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus.

His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose.

"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."

"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?"

"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen.

“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?”

Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you.

“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.”

Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body.

You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure.

You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature.

Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest.

His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.

Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.

Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.

Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”

You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.

“Nothing.”

“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...”

“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat.

Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.

Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him.

“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”

When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him.

“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.

“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”

Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.

Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.

“I don't need your fake kindness.”

Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.

“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”

“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.

You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.

You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.

“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.

“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”

Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.

You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.

You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.

“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”

“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”

"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."

You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.

Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable.

“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.

“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”

You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.

“I don't think that's really any of your business.”

You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.

Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”

Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.

With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.

You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.

The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.

When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.

“Let's go.”

“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.

You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.

Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.

“Where's your car?”

You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.

Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.

The realization dries your throat.

“Is that yours?”

“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.

Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.

“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.

You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.

“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.

You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes.

“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”

You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.

Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.

You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest.

The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears.

You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.

“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.

Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.

“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.

Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.

You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.

“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.

You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.

“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.

“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.

“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.

The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.

“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.

Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”

You fold your arms. “If...?”

He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.

“If you help me with something.”

“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly.

“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.

“What kind of favor?” you insist.

“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.

“What's in it for you?”

“Can't I help a partner?”

You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.

“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step.

Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.

“Why me?”

“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”

You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.

You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”

“Okay.”

“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts.

Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.

There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.

Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM —

You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.

Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.

His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”

He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you.

Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it.

Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.

Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.

Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.

“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”

“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”

Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.

“You said you were helping him — is this his business?”

Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”

You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”

“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.

You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.

“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—

“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”

You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.

“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”

“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”

“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.

“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”

“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes.

“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”

You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.

“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”

“It's just the two of you?”

You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.

You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.

As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:

He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?

The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.

“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.

“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.

He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”

“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.

Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.

You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.

“You live here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought we were going to practice,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space.

“We will.”

“But...”

“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”

You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.

The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.

He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.

You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so.

“I knew you were a rich kid...”

He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”

A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.

You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.

When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.

The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture.

Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.

Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.

“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”

The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.

To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.

“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.

“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.

“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”

Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.

“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.

Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.

“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”

You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face.

Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.

When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.

“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.

“I really mean it. Thank you.”

Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.

“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.

“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”

You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.

“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.

“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.

“I'll get an uber.”

Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.

What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?

Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm —

The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing.

As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.

With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.

With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.

Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it.

Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.

Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.

“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”

“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.

“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.

“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull.

Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.

“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”

“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.”

Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine.

The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle.

“Again,” he orders you.

Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence.

The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.

The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.

“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays.

"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension.

He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness.

“Sir...”

He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.

“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.

“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.

“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.

“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.

“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”

“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage.

The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”

You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.

“Be a good girl then.”

“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this.

“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.

“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling.

“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”

He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile.

Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you.

Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know.

“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.”

Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly.

“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director.

“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.”

Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.

The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.

You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.

“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.

Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.

Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.

In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.

“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.

You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.

Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.

Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.

You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it.

Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.

“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.

“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”

You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.

“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”

“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.

“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.

“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”

You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.

You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.

“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.

“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”

You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.

“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.

Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.

“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.

“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”

His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”

The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”

You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.

“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”

“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.

“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”

“I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.

“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”

Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.

“We can report him,” he suggests.

“They won't listen to us,” you reply.

“Not with that attitude.”

You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.

“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.

“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.

“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.

With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.

With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.

“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.

“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.

“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.

“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”

“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”

You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.

“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.

“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.

Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.

“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.

“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”

“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.

“I never said that.” You defend yourself.

Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.

“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.

“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?

“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.

Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch.

“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.

“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.

“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.

“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”

“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”

You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.

“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.

“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.

You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”

“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”

“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.

“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”

Sat. 4/15 • -:- am—

You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.

It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.

The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers.

The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home.

You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.

R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)

Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.

You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.

You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.

“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.

Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.

“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.

“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.

“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.

“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”

You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.

“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to.

“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.

“He's much better, actually.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.

“There's just one little problem.”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.

“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”

"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend.

“That's where you come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”

You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.

“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?”

“Yes, just once or twice.”

“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.

“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”

You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.

It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.

“I have to go now.”

You have a lot to process.

“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.

“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.

You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.

Thurs. 5/10 •

Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.

Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.

On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar.

On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.

The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.

“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.

“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”

“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.

Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.

As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.

At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.

As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”

You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”

Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”

You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.

“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.

At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.

“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”

After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.

Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.

“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.

“Is it the money?”

You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”

Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.

“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”

His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.

“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.

“Fine. I'll be with you.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”

You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.

“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.

“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.

“I've never smoked,” you confess.

“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”

“...Yes.”

“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”

You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.

You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness.

His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out.

“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue.

Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.

“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.

Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.

“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.

“Then let's go somewhere more private.”

Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat.

“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”

He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.

“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.

“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”

“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”

Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.

The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are.

As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.

Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire.

“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.

Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.

“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down.

Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath.

More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art.

“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté.

Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan.

“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down.

You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.

“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?”

Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers.

“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?”

It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good.

“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed.

He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs.

As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is.

“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle.

From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip.

“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.”

His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you.

Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.

The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply.��

The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation.

“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet.

“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror.

Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.

Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress.

“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...”

“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.

Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you.

“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”

His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet.

“Ryōmen...”

“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.

“Yes, oh my god, please.”

Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time.

“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”

Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.

The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.

Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth.

. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.

With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy.

You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.

“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.

“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.

“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.

“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.

“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.

“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”

“Is it okay if I come with you?”

“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.

"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.

You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.

“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”

My girl. You feel like you might burst.

“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”

“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”

And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.

Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.

#wr #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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kakushino · 1 year ago

Text

Lady in Red, Gentleman in Black

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

Your boss had given you the responsibility of hosting that night. It led to something you didn't anticipate.

Tags: Mafia AU, mentioned character death, Yandere content, fluff, dub-con, smut, creampie, sub reader, mild bondage, mention of contraception/lack of it Word count: 6,8k

Masterlist

Your boss had given you the responsibility of hosting tonight; it was an honor to finally do an event solo - an important gala at that. Your boss had been secretive about the people who you were hosting though.

Makeup on point, hair styled to perfection.

You were ready.

At least once you found your neutral gray suit, you would be. Where was it? You swore you put it somewhere…

Oh, you were not ready.

You totally forgot to wash it. The suit of your choice was laying in the hamper, where you left it over a week ago. That meant only one thing… you had to wear the red dress your boss bought you for Christmas, or well, her money bought it - she’d given you a gift card to one of the fancier stores in the city so you had to make use of it. You’d planned to wear it to an event for fun not for work… it was even hardly suitable, with how low-cut the décolleté was. Had you not put on mascara already, tears of frustration would stream down your cheeks.

It was not going to be totally appropriate… but it would have to do. At least the skirt was flowy and not hugging your figure; it would have been hell on earth if you would have to be in a tight dress for the whole night.

You quickly found a pair of comfortable low heels, grabbed your purse and went to catch a taxi to the venue. It was still some hours before the start, but you had to make sure everything was perfect.

And it was. You’d spent weeks planning it with the knowledge the client was important and was not to be displeased. All the specifications were assented to by your boss before you finalized anything, so you were pretty confident in the client’s approval. The catering was on point, waiters ready, bars stocked, and the opening went without a hitch. You kept up your rounds checking on each staff group to keep things running smoothly.

There was only one thing that was… not perfect.

There was a man behind you from the start, though he kept his distance.

He was following you, that much was obvious to you. A gentleman in all black - black suit, black dress shirt, black tie, black hair, eyes dark like the night sky-

“Miss?”

You looked up from your flute of non-alcoholic champagne. A man in a dark blue suit with a green and yellow turtle-shell patterned tie approached you. “How may I help you?”

He gave you a friendly smile. “You just seemed lonely in your little corner. Thought you needed some company.” He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and raised it to you.

You hesitantly clinked glasses together, a polite smile on your face as you both drank your drink of choice. “That’s very kind of you, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir’. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

You finished off your glass so you didn’t have to respond. He was quite forward, yet he hadn’t even given you his name.

And you weren’t willing to tell him yours first.

“Do you live nearby?” he asked, swirling the wine in his glass, seemingly uninterested yet hanging on every word you were about to say.

You regretted chugging your drink. Setting down the flute on a nearby table, you were about to answer-

“May I have this dance?”

You turned. It was not the man in front of you who asked. Instead, it was the gentleman in black who had been watching you the whole evening. His jaw was clenched, but expression was otherwise unreadable. His dark eyes were actually blue, and they pierced you with intensity you were not used to.

“Yes, thank you,” you shot an apologetic look to the man, who was speaking with you just moments before, and followed the gentleman to the dance floor.

“The name’s Giyuu, Tomioka Giyuu,” he murmured as he took you into his arms, slow waltz starting to play. His frame was solid, offering you all the support a follower could want in a leader; it was as if he had been dancing for years and years, and the first few steps confirmed it - that is, if he wasn’t just crazy talented.

You told him your name as he led you into a spin, making you feel like a princess as your skirt flowed in the motion. There weren’t many dancers on the parquet but you still felt very much alone there, with his warmth and strength leading you through the waltz. You didn’t want the dance to end.

Tomioka remained silent throughout the first song.

Thinking it was a one time deal, you stepped back from him once it ended. However, his grip on your hand did not let up.

“One more?” he asked quietly as a much faster music started to play. Yet another classic, a viennese waltz this time.

Though you weren’t sure if you could keep up with him, something made you agree. Perhaps it was the way he didn’t force needless small talk on you, or the way he offered you the support you needed to glide through the forms and figures of the dance. Maybe it was the way you two fit like a glove, or the way his darkness complimented your bright red dress.

Either way, you spent more time in his arms than out of it for the rest of the evening, orbiting each other like galaxies about to collide.

You still had to do your rounds, and it surprised you he kept you company even then, guarding your back as you did so. As the night wore on, you started to actually talk in between the conversations with the staff and the many, many dances.

He lived at the edge of the city, he didn’t have any pets, he liked the color blue, his favorite food was salmon with daikon.

You sat down for the first time of the night, moaning softly in relief. Your heels were comfortable, but not that comfortable.

Though he wasn’t as animated with his emotions, there were minimalistic expressions on his face that you were able to catch because… well, you were looking. Giyuu was an attractive man, and you wouldn’t mind at all if he asked-

“May I have your number?”

You looked up at him as he stood by your side, a silent protector. You wondered why he hadn’t sat down at all. “Only if I may have yours.” You smiled, face feeling hot.

You went out shopping before your first date. He'd told you to wear something classy, formal.

You were lucky to find a nice dark blue dress to your knees. It looked classy enough in the shop, but by the time it was five minutes until he was to pick you up, you were overthinking.

Was it formal enough? Was your make-up too slutty or was it just right? Should you wear higher heels or-

The doorbell rang.

All your thoughts vanished. Giyuu was here.

And gods did he look amazing. He wore a dark blue dress shirt, which was only slightly off-shade to your dress, and black suit, no tie.

Your face was flushed as he led you to his car - black and elegant, like him - while he complimented your dress.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the doors for you - the car, the restaurant - and pulled out the chair for you too. Chivalry wasn't dead.

The restaurant itself was fancy yet cozy, the type you thought you'd only see in movies. The tables were far apart to offer privacy yet close enough not to be completely isolated. It was situated in a high rise building, giving you a view of the city skyline in the sunset.

"I hope this setting is fine with you. I admit it has been a while since I'd gone out," Giyuu told you softly.

You smiled. "I've never been treated like this on the first date before. I think you're doing more than fine."

This seemed to please him, the corner of his lips quirking up a little. “Good. I didn't want to make you think I would harm you in any way… That's why I chose a public place to meet at first.”

Your heart squeezed a little at the quiet confession, touched and a little in love that he thought of your feelings about the subject. It was true - had your first date been somewhere isolated, you wouldn't say yes to it, the threat of… what happens to women, and men both, too vivid in your mind's eye.

"Thank you. I appreciate the thought, Giyuu." Your smile widened, your face feeling a little hot.

He only nodded in response, his eyes flitting between you and the rest of the room, as if he were keeping watch. He'd told you during the gala that he wasn't much for crowded spaces, so this kind of date was perfect.

"Have you been here before?" you asked when a waiter brought you the menus.

"A few times, yes." Giyuu opened his, more looking at you than the lists of food on paper. "I don't want you to look at the prices… I asked you to accompany me so I'm paying."

Chivalry was not dead indeed.

The conversation flowed smoothly, both of you relaxing in the push and pull of different topics, gentle waves on a calm sea. As you spoke, you placed your hand on the table, nearly touching his own. Second by second, you both inched closer unconsciously.

Your hands met, as did your eyes. Your face felt hot but you were smiling, delighted at the show of comfort and intimacy with this handsome man. His own lips were set in a relaxed line, not quite smiling but close, the deep sapphire of his eyes bright.

The waiter came and went, collecting the menus and your orders, leaving you alone again. A glint of a gold bracelet on the hand of one of the other guests reminded you of something.

“Do you like art, Giyuu?”

He tilted his head a little, the only reaction you got before he told you, “Art gives me a lot to think about.”

There was a deeper meaning to his words, but you could not decipher it just yet. His response was not negative however, and you latched onto that, hope budding in your chest. “There will be an art exhibition in town soon. It’s called ‘All gold that glitters’ - I don’t know if you’ve heard about it?”

Giyuu studied you for a moment, the silence just a few seconds short of becoming awkward. “Most of the display will be Gustav Klimt.”

Excited, you said, “Exactly! Once I heard it would be here, I wanted to see his works up close… Though I don’t know if I will get in. A friend told me the tickets might be sold out already. The painter is very famous after all.” All your energy evaporated as you realized the futility of the situation. “The crowds would be too much too… I’m sorry for rambling. I don’t know what has gotten into me.” You tried to laugh it off.

Giyuu looked at you for a moment longer before nodding. “You aren’t much for crowds either?”

You nearly sighed in relief when he accepted your diversion. It amazed you how receptive he was with these hints despite appearing stoic.

You smiled at him, “Not really. It sometimes gets too much. Even at work I…”

Even with your brief stumble in the conversation, you both enjoyed talking to each other for a long while. The topics flowed from one to another again, there wasn’t ever a lull in you sharing your thoughts. The gentle atmosphere of the restaurant added to your ease.

You were comfortable with him. And that surprised you - how quickly you let down your walls in front of a…

He could no longer be called a stranger. The time you spent together at the gala made you friends in your eyes. This outing was a date - could you say he was your boyfriend?

The food arrived, interrupting your thoughts.

His salmon with daikon looked delicious, and Giyuu must have thought so too, for he dug in very quickly, barely muttering out an “Itadakimasu,” before he munched away. You slowly started eating as well, looking at him.

Your face felt hot as you watched him. He looked so cute; he was clearly enjoying each bite, his cheeks full of the food.

He looked up only once, and he spoke, but you were not able to understand a word he said, his words sounding like gibberish to your ears. You could only giggle; you had never thought a gentleman like Giyuu would do this.

“Sorry, sorry,” you looked down at your food with a secretive smile. It was endearing to see him so unguarded. Though you had to say that he seemed relaxed in your presence, that pleased you greatly.

You ate in silence, each stealing glances at the other.

One glance at him bestowed a gift upon you that you never thought you would see, yet again. Giyuu was smiling while he ate his dish. Not only that. He was a messy eater, little bits of the food sticking on his cheeks. He looked absolutely adorable. You were smiling wide and you had a sudden impulse - one which you acted upon.

Giyuu froze when you leaned forward, rising from your seat a little. The blue dress clung to your chest, trying to contain your breasts from spilling over, digging into your skin a little.

He forced his eyes away from your cleavage, staring you in the face instead, but you were focused on his lips-? Were you about to-?

You reached out, thumb wiping at his cheek gently, and sat back down.

“You had a bit of rice on your face,” you grinned and ate the grain off of your thumb.

His face was red, blush stretching all the way to his ears.

Giyuu realized that he was in trouble, because something happened - something he didn’t account for.

He fell, hard.

“Where are we going?”

Giyuu had picked you up at your apartment, dashing as always in his black clothes. You didn't know how he did it, but everything looked so elegant on him - even if it was just a short-sleeved fitted shirt and black pants.

"You'll see."

He'd offered you his arm, ever the gentleman, as you walked to his car.

The two of you were a study in contrast, he thought. Where Giyuu was the dark, you were the light. You’d chosen a white sundress today, loose and airy - innocent and pure. A white rabbit hopping around in its meadow of flowers, unaware of the presence of a predator hiding in the shadows - a starved wolf, ready to pounce and claim the rabbit for its own.

The analogy reminded him of the fact he hadn’t given you any flowers yet. Fuck. He should’ve gone and bought you some before this date. Would you even appreciate flowers?

The drive was filled with warmth, despite the near-silence. It didn’t feel uncomfortable to not talk, you both were very much content.

Or at least you were.

Giyuu had an urge to place his hand on your thigh, but he didn’t want to overstep or break the atmosphere, the comfort you were both in.

In the end, his willpower won.

The car pulled into a side street, and you drove through a steel bar gate, the gate-keeper nodding at Giyuu respectfully. It made you curious where you were going. A small part of you rang warning bells - you didn’t know where you were and you didn’t know what would happen to you. But you trusted him, despite meeting with him only twice so far - today being the third. You hoped your trust was not misplaced.

Giyuu parked and turned off the engine, quickly getting out of the car and locking it when you reached for the handle. You looked at him in confusion, but then he was on your side, opening the door for you. Like a gentleman.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you smiled at him. How could you have doubted him? He was such a silly man, trying to be as accommodating as possible for you. Giyuu took your hand in his, a loose hold which you could get out of easily if you wanted to.

He led you inside through a clearly personnel-only door, making you curious what exactly he’d planned for you two.

An employee met you there, guiding you through various halls filled with wrapped… things? It looked like paintings but you couldn’t be sure.

“Enjoy your time,” the employee said, opening a door for you two at last. The light in the room turned on, reflecting golden hues off of every piece in the room.

This was it - ‘All gold that glitters’ was in front of you. But- it was supposed to open tomorrow, and there were no more tickets left, you’d checked, so how-?

You’d subconsciously stepped inside, letting go of his hand. You slowly looked around in awe, tears gathering in your eyes. You felt as if your soul had been caressed by Giyuu’s warm hands.

Here, illuminated by the professional lighting and surrounded by paintings, the only art he saw was you. You spun in a circle, your loose skirt flaring up a little, your eyes sparkling as you took in the exhibition - devoid of life, sans the two of you. If he hadn't fallen for you already, he would have now.

Giyuu closed the distance, taking your hand in his again, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. Your excited expression made all the trouble he went through to get you both here worth it.

Nevertheless, he asked, "Do you like it?"

You beamed. "I love it!"

You tugged at his hand, nearly skipping over to the first piece, absolutely delighted.

Flitting from piece to piece, you eventually let go of each other, content to enjoy the art at your own paces. There was no rush, no one to interrupt you two, you were there alone; just the two of you and the art.

You stood in front of Fulfillment, admiring the patterns. Each painting, each art piece, had a meaning and was supposed to evoke something in the viewer. Staring at the embrace of the two lovers, it gave you the same feeling you had when Giyuu took your hand for the first time - today. Dancing with him didn’t count, the restaurant didn’t count, that was you reaching out to him. Today was him seeking you out.

Butterflies danced in your tummy as you smiled.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You looked at him, your smile widening. “Yes. You don’t know how special this is for me,” you admitted, walking closer to Giyuu. Glancing to the side, your cheeks felt hot. He was standing in front of the arguably most famous piece by Gustav Klimt.

The Kiss.

Giyuu remained silent.

You took in the details of the painting - the flowers, the position, the intimacy. You wished you’d be kissed like that, at least once in your life. An image flashed in your mind’s eye - of Giyuu holding you exactly like that, of kissing you exactly like that - and you had to blink and look at him again to make sure it was just a daydream, and not reality.

He was staring, his focus not on you as a whole, but on your lips. Your breath hitched in your throat.

There was conflict in his eyes when they met yours. It seemed as if the world held its breath for the two of you.

The distance closed slowly as you gravitated towards each other, separate galaxies a hair’s width away from becoming one. So close yet so far.

You closed your eyes. Warmth touched your soul.

The first kiss was but a peck to the corner of your lips; your head tilted back slightly, one of his hands cradling the nape of your neck, the other cupping your jaw. You exhaled shakily. The first became second, right on the lips, soft and feather-light; then third, the air shared between the two of you.

There was a mist inside your mind, your thoughts incorporeal yet comforting, encompassing you in a blanket of Heavens. It didn’t feel wrong, nothing about this felt wrong; it was just right, being with Giyuu felt right. Each kiss stole your breath and returned it to you in the same second.

Giyuu felt as if life was filling his lungs for the first time in forever. Your warmth was everything, absolutely everything to him. You were so receptive to him, eyes closed and completely pliant in his hands. It felt as if you were made from the thinnest layer of gold leaf and one wrong move, one wrong touch would crumple you up, eternally lost.

Only when you both were nearly gasping for breath did you pull away. Giyuu was cradling you in his arms tenderly, a bright blush on his face, and you were hanging onto him for dear life, your own cheeks flushed.

It was a moment of understanding that you stood at the edge of something great blooming between the two of you, and neither wanted to stop it.

Giyuu signed the death certificate, numb.

Urokodaki Sabito, aged 28, dead.

The pen rolled off the table and clattered onto the ground but he didn't care. The slight incessant ache in his arm hardly bothered him, the ache where his heart was felt like a more life-threatening wound than a mere scratch.

Sabito had nothing to do with the Ubuyashiki family, except being the relative and a friend of its members; Urokodaki Sakonji's only adopted son and Tomioka Giyuu's very best friend lay dead, the corpse long gone cold in the morgue.

It had happened so fast too.

One moment, Giyuu and Sabito were talking about Sabito’s upcoming wedding, the next, both were diving for cover as bullets flew overhead. Sabito had had some training from Urokodaki, though he'd steered clear of the true depth of mastery despite his clear talent at it. He'd always been better than Giyuu, at everything.

So why?

Why was Sabito dead and Giyuu alive?

Why was Giyuu still breathing and Sabito's chest forever stilled?

More importantly, who targeted him - them? Why had they done so?

Were they going to strike again?

Oh no…

Not [Name].

Anything, anyone, but her.

He wanted to shout, to scream - She has nothing to do with this! Leave her alone!

He knew, however, that it would be in vain. Whoever targeted them had done so very deliberately. They knew who would be where and at what time.

And they could get to you too.

No.

He could not allow that to happen. He'd just gotten his first taste of you, an ambrosia for a mere mortal.

And it wasn't even by his own making. It had been Sabito who'd forced him to approach you that night of the gala. He'd noticed Giyuu was following you around like a lost puppy all evening. He'd noticed and acted on it.

Sabito's interference led to a few of his happiest days in his life - the gala itself, the dinner, the museum, and the days spent texting one another.

All this could be lost with a short crack of thunder, a bullet released from the barrel of a gun - so disgraceful in these parts, where family conflicts were best solved honorably, with swords.

He could not allow it to happen - no, he would not allow it to happen. He felt an intense hunger, his teeth ached with the need to bite, to tear flesh to shreds of those who would even think of hurting you, of those who would even look at you.

Giyuu's mind spiraled, a maelstrom pulling everything in reach down to treacherous depths. Plans made and discarded, his hand reached for his phone before he knew it, dialing your number before he could stop it.

"Hi," came your voice. Giyuu closed his eyes, enjoying the simplicity of hearing you, the knowledge you were still alive and well making his heart beat like a drum. "What's up?"

"Are you home?"

"Yeah. Why? Is something wrong?" Hearing the concern in your voice would have made his chest feel warm normally, but this time the warmth was brought by the fact you were home, home meant safety… at least for a little while. He needed to get you close, to hold you in his arms.

His eyes snapped open. “I have something planned for us.”

"Planned? It's so sudden… It is a little late now but-"

“You just have to trust me," he interrupted you. “Understood?” He'd never used this tone of voice on you, the mask of a killer slipping on subconsciously.

There was a brief moment of silence. "Alright, Giyuu… I trust you.”

I trust you.

He hoped you’d trust him with your safety and life too.

“Thank you, dear. Wear that red dress for me.”

He hung up, texting you his address along with 'Take your time' in the same breath.

Giyuu had some preparations to make, after all.

You got out of the car - a driver he’d called for you, making you wonder just what his job was to have these connections - and stared at the house. You checked your maps, and it was indeed the address Giyuu had given you.

The house was much bigger than you thought it would be. Sure, he was an elegant man, always put together but nothing about him screamed fancy… Okay, maybe a little. But this was a whole another level of-

The door opened.

Your heart leaped in your chest, a smile rising to your face. Giyuu looked- your smile wobbled a little - he looked like he carried the whole world on his shoulders. You hurried to his side, clutching your purse and the wine you found in your storage - you wanted to bring at least something when visiting his home for the first time. Now it seemed you’d be drinking away some stress instead of celebrating life.

“Are you alright?”

Instead of answering, he pulled you close, hugging you tightly, as if you’d run away from him if he was just a touch gentler. He buried his head into your neck, breathing you in. “You look beautiful… As beautiful as a rose in a bouquet…”

Yet another thing he failed to do… He didn’t prepare any flowers for you again. He kept ruining everything, didn’t he?

You hugged him back awkwardly, the things in your hands a bit uncomfortable to hold at the same time.

Giyuu took a deep breath and pulled back enough to guide you inside. He closed the door and locked it. You placed the bottle and your purse both on the shoe cabinet at the side and embraced him again. He seemed to really need it.

A moment later, he whispered. “Maybe that’s a wrong metaphor. You aren’t just one of many. You deserve to be the sole focus of the beholder…” His hold on you tightened again. “The beholder being me.”

His tone of voice made you shiver a little. Giyuu seemed to still be out of it. You had never seen him being as clingy or heard him speak as possessively as you did now.

“You’re mine, right?”

The question was a bit out of character to how you knew him. He was usually so reserved and soft with you. You didn’t hate it per se, but it was certainly strange. “Of course.”

“That’s right, you’re mine. Never doubt that you’re mine and only mine.”

You were a little confused about why he was like this, but you stayed silent.

“You never know who you can trust these days.”

You shivered again. “Giyuu, maybe we should sit down, yeah? Where..?”

He stepped back and knelt at your feet, one of his hands raising your foot gently, the other pulling the straps of your shoes loose. Both heels fell to the ground, and he left them there, laying in the middle of the hall.

He stood up and took your hand in his, fingers intertwined and grip tight as if he never wanted to let go. Giyuu led you inside in a hurry, taking you through a spacious living room and up the stairs to- his bedroom?

“Don’t be afraid. You don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said lowly. “I’d never hurt you, my dear.” The pet name made blood rush to your cheeks.

Giyuu sat at the edge of the bed, guiding you to the space beside him, still clutching your hand.

“Giyuu, I know you’re probably going through something… You don’t have to tell me. But I’m here for you, you know that, right?”

He nodded. You both stayed silent for a time. Your thoughts kept looping back, trying to think of what could be going on in his head. You realized you knew him, but at the same time you knew nothing about him.

His voice interrupted your train of thought. “I worry a lot for you.”

You tilted your head, looking at him, “I worry for you too.”

Giyuu’s face relaxed minutely. He let go of your hand, stood up and grabbed you by your waist, moving you up the bed to lay on it, as he hovered above you, supporting his weight on his left hand beside your head. “From all the people I met in my life, from the billions I could have had - you are the One, and you are perfect. You’re perfect for me.” His right hand cupped your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. His eyes half-lidded, he leaned down for a slow and soft kiss.

The kiss was everything to him.

When he pulled back, you said, “I’m just me… I can’t be perfect.” Yet he made you feel like you were.

His eyebrows twitched, as if he held back a frown. “Don’t ever doubt your worth, lovely.”

The next kiss was just as slow as the previous one, but deeper, more sensual. It stole your breath away and conjured a fog over your mind; all you could focus on was him.

Giyuu trailed his lips over your jaw, pausing by your ear to whisper, “Nobody else can touch you but me.”

“Yessss…” you hissed lowly in a daze, arching your head back, allowing him to continue kissing down your neck unobstructed.

“I’ll have to warn you, my dear, I am the jealous type,” he murmured against your pulse point. You wondered if he could feel it drumming against his lips.

Giyuu bit down hard. You cried out in a mix of pain and surprise, waking up from the dreamy headspace he’d lulled you into.

“Giyuu!” You tried to struggle, but he held onto you, licking away the ache his teeth brought. Where before anticipation made your heart race, now it was fear, but you could only tremble in his grasp. There was no escaping the wolf now, and the wolf was starving.

He knew the effect this had on you. He knew that he wasn’t being as careful as he should be. It made his heart clench but it had to be done. He had to show everyone you were his. “There is no need to be scared as long as I’m here, my dear. I won’t hurt you and I won’t let anyone else touch you.” He won’t ever let you go.

You tried to slap him when he pulled back enough but he just caught your hand by the wrist, pulling it closer and kissing your palm gently. He maintained eye contact all the while, trailing his lips to the pulse point of your wrist. Your heartbeat grew faster against your will, the sensuality and intimacy of his gesture not lost to you.

His other hand reached into the back pocket of his pants, taking out a familiar green and yellow turtle shell necktie. "Please, don’t struggle so much," he whispered.

Giyuu placed the tie next to your head.

"You don’t want to see me angry, do you?"

You shook your head, this new version of him scaring you and arousing you at the same time. It was intoxicating.

Would you even be allowed to speak? Did that count as ‘struggling’? You didn’t want to test his patience.

“Strip.” He leaned back, sitting on your thighs and waiting for you to obey.

You couldn’t deny him. You knew he was strong, too strong to fight off or resist. You knew he’d take what he wanted regardless of what you tried to do. It was hot, your body felt hot all over. You felt like a freak for enjoying this, shame burning in your stomach as you undid the zipper on your side.

Giyuu watched you, eyes dark, while he himself undid the buttons on his black dress shirt one-handed. He shrugged off the material just as your dress slipped off your shoulders, leaving both of you bare from waist up.

He was covered in lean muscle, a few scars on his torso- his biceps was in a bandage, a bloodied bandage. Your eyes focused on it, but he was focused on something else entirely.

Giyuu took your hands and bound them to the headboard with the green tie. You tried to wiggle out of them but he only smirked, dragging the red dress off of your figure, leaving you only in your panties.

"I never do something halfway, my dear, and I do need to prepare you for me," he murmured against your lips, his hand slipping under the seam of your silky panties. You were wet since before he'd led you to bed, too excited at seeing him, too turned on by his voice and scent. Now it only made you feel shame, for it made things easier for him.

But you couldn't truly say you hated what he was doing, especially when his nimble fingers slowly pushed into you. You gasped at the feeling, and he stilled for a moment.

"Does it hurt?" You shook your head, spreading your legs wider.

Giyuu swept his thumb through your wet pussy lips to circle at your clit in soft and slow motions. He studied your face for any discomfort as he started to pump slowly.

"How do you want me to fuck you? Hard and fast or soft and slow? I will do whatever you ask of me, my dear." He curled his fingers inside of you, trying to find the spot that should make-

You moaned, flinching away from the shock of pleasure.

Giyuu swore later that your moans were the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard in his life; they were the only art a killer like him could create, and he intended to make a masterpiece of you.

As his right hand worked you up, he leaned down to kiss and bite at your throat, the vibrations against his lips feeling like Heaven on Earth.

His fingers played you like a string instrument, each flick and movement and curl dragging you higher and higher against your will, your moans pitching and breaking and finally cutting off in a silent scream as you came all over his hand.

"Beautiful…"

Giyuu withdrew his fingers, glistening with your cum, and brought them to his face, studying how the slick created a gooey string between them as he spread them apart. You had to look away from the lewd display, making his eyes snap back to your face.

You heard his belt buckle open, his weight briefly disappearing from your side. When the bed dipped again, his rough warm palms traced a path down your body, from your breasts, over your stomach, thumbs catching the fabric of your panties and pulling them down, down, down… off.

"To say you’re special is an understatement, [Name]," he whispered, spreading your legs and settling between them.

Your whole body trembled, your arms tugging at your restraints again, but you were too weak, your orgasm chipped away at any strength you had left to truly resist him.

“You don’t just make me want you…" His lips kissed along your neck with feather-light touches, breath hot against your skin. "…You make me need you.”

…Fuck if his confession didn't make you clench around nothing. Your mind fought against your heart and body in a three-way war, each trying to one-up the other. Your heart told you how deep you had fallen for him, how this was as good as a love confession. Your brain warned you you were in trouble, your boyfriend had lured you inside and was about to use you. Your body sang for the future pleasure he would bestow upon you, his talented fingers proving his skill.

"I'm keeping you here… for your own good."

What? No- and Oh yes, please-! echoed in your mind.

"You will stay with me, you will never leave me, you will be safe here."

Oh, but how could you fight this?

"I love you."

I love you.

Giyuu kissed you on the lips, deeply and passionately, setting you on fire with his touch.

You could feel him - feel his cock - against your body.

You could only shake in his all-encompassing arms.

He realized you were scared - of him. "I won’t harm you… I won’t ever, ever even think of harming you."

He kissed you again. He kissed you as if he needed it, needed you just to survive, like he needed you more than air itself. It was like he tried to devour you, a hungry wolf and a sweet rabbit.

And then he was sliding in. He'd prepared you to take him; even then the stretch was nearly too much anyway.

Giyuu slurred out a curse against your lips, the feeling of finally being enveloped by your snug warmth too much. His mind was nearly breaking, he'd never felt so loved, so intimate, so close to someone than he did as he bottomed out inside of your sopping wet cunt.

"You're perfect," he breathed out shakily, resting his forehead against yours.

He started slowly, letting you feel him inch by inch. You swore you could feel him in your throat, each glide felt as if he was pushing your organs apart, rearranging you from the inside to his liking.

Oh, but was it a delight. Fireworks exploded behind your lids every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot, earthquakes rocked your world, waves of pleasure crashed against each nerve under your skin. He set you aflame and quenched you in the same stroke.

You sang pretty moans for him, Giyuu joining you in the duet of passion the two of you shared. Skin rubbed against skin, sweat beaded at your brows, air was shared - Giyuu tilted his head and kissed you again, and again, and again.

He stole your heart, he stole your pleasure, he stole your breath, he stole you and yet…

“Let go for me, my dear-” he ground out between his teeth.

You went out with a whimper.

Toes curled, back arched, but all you could do was take it as Giyuu continued to thrust, chasing his own release inside your heat.

He kept staring at your blissed out face. "I'm gonna-" One, two, three slams of his hips and he released a shaky moan, spilling his seed deep into your pussy. "…stuff you full of my love."

The warmth of him inside, the firm muscles against your thighs, his scent, the dripping sweat-

He hadn't even asked if he could cum inside. He hadn't asked if you were on the pill. He truly intended to keep you, didn't he?

"I love you, my dear."

Tears welled up in your eyes and fell one by one down your cheeks. But damn him, you loved him too. You'd fallen in love with him, and he'd become your captor.

Giyuu slowly leaned even closer to embrace you. “Shhh, this was meant to be, my dear.” He buried his face into your neck. The kiss he placed there was wet with his own tears.

What was he crying about? You were the one he was going to shackle down. You were the one with no way out. You were the one losing everything but him.

“I know this will take some time to adjust to.”

How else was he supposed to keep you from harm? There was no other way. He couldn’t regret it, wouldn’t regret it.

“In the end… all you have left is-” he leaned closer to your ear, “me.” Giyuu buried his face in your neck again, taking in your scent and listening to your heart beat - steady and well. Alive.

You were far safer with him, under his roof - in your now-shared bedroom.

“It’s better this way.”

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. He would make sure you had everything you needed.

“Shhh, sleep now.”

banners by the amazing @/benkeibear

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shuaraes · 11 months ago

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we shouldn’t have ended like this | x.mh

- leave your message after the beep

oneshot | 1.3k | exes! au | angst

it’s three am and xu minghao has never felt more lonely in life. drunk on melancholy and emptiness, he ruminates on your relationship and regrets the way you both had ended. even though it’s late at night, minghao tries to rewrite his wrongdoings because deep down he knows a part of you still loves him.

~ paring . xu minghao x gender-neutral!reader

~ content . exes (to lovers???)! au, non idol! au, miscommunication- no even lack of communication,

~ tw . mentions of alcohol, vague mentions of sex

~ song rec . only ones we know - arctic monkeys

~ author’s note . the idea for this was adapted from some of my poetry. my prose is still a bit rusty but i hope this is decent enough! happy christmas to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t hope you have a great day, happy reading! 🫶

MINGHAO’S BED IS EMPTY.

It has been for the past year, yet he can’t wrap his head around it. He lies down on the navy sheets of his queen-sized bed and reaches out to the other side. For some reason he expects it to be warm to the touch: he is met with only coolness. Not cool in the way a sip of water after a mint is or the rush of the winter wind not blocked by fabric. The coolness is like a ghost: the phantom of you that haunts every part of his dwelling.

The walls mourn for your presence, whispering your name, muted pleas into Minghao’s ear. Your name creeps up on him when he least expects it, after the two month-mark, he gave up trying to push you out. ‘It shouldn’t have ended like this,’ the walls call out to him. ‘We shouldn’t have ended like this,’ your last words to him. It shouldn’t have ended like this.

If Minghao squints hard enough, he can still see the imprint of your body, the permanent dent in the mattress where you used to lie. Minghao tries to pretend that just minutes ago, you were engulfed in his sheets, him engulfed in you. He waits for you to fill the dent in the mattress, to mend the hole in his heart.

But you don’t come. And he is alone.

Minghao turns over to face the celling, his jet-black hair falling on his pillow around his head like a halo. His fan spins like a vinyl on a record player from the 60’s. In his head, it’s playing your favourite song. He hums along to the lyrics, you always said he had a good singing voice. This thought almost breaks him.

You broke up with Minghao because you thought you could not love him enough, not knowing your mere presence was more than enough for him. If you were a baby flame, he was a pyromaniac, hand outstretched ready to be burnt. But when it got hard you pushed him away to protect his own feelings, so he became distant and pushed you out. It came to a point where Minghao felt it was like living with a stranger.

When you proposed a breakup, Minghao wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t act like he was either. He stayed deathly silent as you spoke, staring into his mug of tea that had long gone cold. “Fine.” He said as he looked into brown void of his cup (if he looked you in the eye, he would have broke). But with your closing words he knew it was a mistake, you still loved him (he will forever love you). It shouldn’t have ended like this, yet Minghao did nothing to prevent it.

Even after a year, Minghao wonders why he didn’t fight harder. Maybe it’s because, subconsciously, he knew you were too good for him. You deserved someone less cowardly, someone who would never let you go like a children’s balloon, would never let you go so easily. Yet nothing can stop the green-eyed monster of jealousy, waltzing around in her emerald ball gown whenever he hears about you with someone else. Your shared friends give him updates on how you’re doing, but when someone else is mentioned romantically, he shuts out. Trying to piece together why it wasn’t him instead.

Selfishness is a sin - he knows that - but he can’t help from wanting you all to himself. So, he tries to have you in any way he can. He sleeps with your favourite blanket, he washes his clothes with your favourite brand of detergent and in the winter, by the heater, he warms a pair of your house slippers that you never remembered to collect. He searches for you in the bodies of others, the dips in their collarbones and curves of their spines, but of course they cannot compare to you. No one does. If these hook ups amounted to even 1% of what Minghao feels for you, then he wouldn’t complain. But they don’t.

Minghao misses you.

In life, Minghao believes that people only get one chance at true love. He’s scared that he’s used all his luck up on you.

The loss of you gnaws away at him. It wains away at his resolve and destroys any hope for a life away from you. A slow dull pain, it was always in the back of his mind: inescapable though manageable. Minghao didn’t know what was different about tonight, but all he knows is that he has never felt the same about anyone else.

The past kills him. It strangles him, leaving him paralysed with no choice but to face his mistakes. His love for you kills him inside out. It eats away at his psyche until all that is left of him are his feelings for you. It’s three am and all that remains of him is you.

It has always been you.

Fuck it, he picks up his phone off his nightstand and dials your number. Minghao knows he’s not thinking straight, but if he doesn’t at least try to reach you, he will resent himself until the day he dies. The line starts to ring and Minghao holds the phone to his ear with bated breath and clammy hands. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears pounding like a wooden mallet while he waited.

After what felt like eons, the line goes to voicemail. Of course, it did, it’s three am. Minghao feels stupid for thinking you’d pick up. The automated voice reads out the predetermined script to tell him that you can’t answer the phone the right now. It then asks to leave a message if desired. Minghao knows he shouldn’t, he doesn’t care, he loves you.

- Leave your message after the beep - “Hey, it’s Minghao” his voice wavers, it’s obvious he’s nervous. “Call me when you get this.”

Minghao presses the keypad to end the voice message, yet he feels empty. This isn’t closure, this isn’t what he needs. With this alone, in the morning, you’ll probably delete the message and go on with your life.

Minghao is tired of pretending to be rational, hiding his feelings behind a masquerade of poise and nonchalance. He’s going insane because of you, and he needs to let you know, you need to know how much he loves you.

He left another voicemail.

- Leave your message after the beep - “Y/N, I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you. A year of no contact and you get a call from me out of the blue, but for once I’m begging, give me a chance. Listen, I love you. I’ve loved you since the day we first met, since the day we broke up and i think i’m going to love you every day until I die. I don’t think i let it show but you were my endgame, after you i don’t want to love anyone else,”

Minghao could feel himself rambling, his words tumbling from his lips uncontrollably. His heart is a spilled glass of milk, all his soul on display for your critique. He wants to stop himself from speaking but he can’t, so he continues,

“Letting you go so easily was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I should’ve fought for you, and I know it may be too late but I’m doing it now.

Tomorrow let me take you out to dinner, we can dress up nice and get drunk off our heads. Then I’ll order us a taxi back to yours or mine I don’t mind, then we’ll slow dance to that one jazz album you like, and I’ll promise to never push you away. Things won’t be perfect, and we both have a lot to work on, but I don’t care. Everything is perfect enough for me as long as you're by my side. And before you say I’m drunk, trust me I’m not, I’m a bit sleepy but that doesn’t change a thing. I love you so much Y/N.”

Minghao cuts the phone down and the screen fades to his lock screen, a candid photo of you from a year ago that he refused to change. He places his phone on his heart (your home) and falls asleep waiting for it to ring.

#seventeen angst #seventeen x reader #seventeen oneshot #seventeen drabble #seventeen fanfic #svt angst #svt x reader #svt oneshot #the8 #xu minghao #minghao x reader #minghao angst #minghao fluff #minghao oneshot #the8 angst #the8 fluff #the8 x reader #the8 oneshot #both reader and minghao are low-key pricks in this lmao

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1dcommunityficrecs · 9 months ago

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Fake Dating Rec List!

List number four is here! I asked (in what I'm sure was a very dignified and reasonable way that did not involve tearing my hair or beating my chest because I love fake dating a completely normal amount) and you guys sure delivered! So below, we have 16 amazing fics (plus one Honorable Mention), ready for your reading pleasure.

It's Fine To Fake It 'Til You Make It ('Til It's True) by Sunflouwerhabit (150960, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Harry dreads an impending visit to his hometown, where he’ll be forced to reunite with a newly engaged ex-boyfriend, a childhood best friend turned near stranger, and a family who never understood just how desperately he needed to leave. In the midst of it all, a ludicrous Twitter proposition brings him to Louis.

Reccer says: Their characterizations and chemistry in this fic were greats

Sun Means Sky'll Be Blue by Pearlydewdrops (91152, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

As the only singleton under thirty attending his cousin’s five-day wedding, Harry is desperate to find a date, or at least a reason to get people’s questions about his love life off his back. So when Louis, Harry’s old uni roommate and fellow wedding attendee waltzes back into his life, Harry seizes the opportunity, pretending Louis is his ex-boyfriend and that it’s a sore subject not to be mentioned.

Reccer says: I enjoyed the hate to love aspect of this fic, and how they dealt with their feelings. It was also fun to read about all of the dramatics with the wedding and Harry's family.

Escapade by Dolce_piccante (146241, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

CEO Louis / Jack McQueen Harry

Reccer says: Everyone knows Escapade (I hope!) but it's impossible not to mention her. It’s the standard-bearer of fake dating fics!

Mistletoe’s For Two by Crimsontheory (90901, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Advent fic, Harry and Louis pretend to be boyfriends. Or not...

Reccer says: The perfect advent fic I think, the kind you'd see in a Christmas movie.

The Games We Play by wishingforloushair (50000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post Warnings: Gun violence, blood, violence in general, a bit of ptsd-like symptoms

Harry and Louis are MI6 agents who have hated each other since basic training but now have to go undercover as a married couple

Reccer says:

keep you like an oath by alnima (18102, Mature, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson)

A supercute Zouis fake dating non-famous American AU with a wild Louis and awkward Zayn!

Reccer says: I love Zouis and this fic gets their relationship dynamics perfectly.

MARRIED FOR A WEEK?! by gravitycentered (20000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Louis is a YouTuber, and asks his friend Harry to join him in a "Married For A Week" challenge. Neither of them wants it to end.

Reccer says: I love the depth of the story, the layers to their friendship and their history and their care for each other. There's also a really interesting interplay of Louis' YouTube videos with Harry's photography projects, and the ideas of what to capture or share and what to keep just them, what's posed or acted and what's real.

kiss me on the mouth (and set me free) by tempolarriefics (47000, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

When Harry can't afford to finish his university degree without financial aid, Louis volunteers to marry him in order to help him qualify. Of course, that decision is complicated by the fact that Louis has been secretly in love with Harry for years.

Reccer says:

like a moth into a flame by we_are_the_same (5397, Teen, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

A student writes Zayn a sex poem. The only logical conclusion is for Louis and Zayn to fake date.

Reccer says: Everything!! Zayn and Louis' relationship, the whole trope: everything!!

On the Horizon by FitzAndLarry (261051, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: Minor PTSD, Anxiety themes

Pilot Louis meets Doctor Harry on a flight & end up fake dating on a two week cruise

Reccer says: Its just lovely! The way the characters are written, and their interactions with each other are done wonderfully.

The Greatest Thing by infinitelymint (163789, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

semi-cannon accidental marriage in vegas

Reccer says: The highs and the lows are captivating.

For Better, Worse And Mischief (I'm All Yours) by RedOrchid (37513, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry and Louis get married. PR made them do it.

Reccer says: It was a cute read!

Like Candy in My Veins by Littlelouishiccups (31867, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.”

Reccer says: Picture this: two outspoken, stubborn, pining idiots. Record store owner Louis, bakery owner Harry. Christmas, A/B/O, fake dating, too many pies, a “stolen” parking spot, a flooded bathroom, and puns!

Faking It by TheCellarDoor (46173, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Best friends in Uni, fake dating to escape unwanted advances—it’s perfect.

Reccer says: The fake dating fic I keep coming back to! It’s sweet and hot and so fluffy.

And Then A Bit by Infinitelymint (158824, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

Reccer says: One of my all time favorite fics! I just love how genuinely happy they are to spend time together, how sweet and soft they are at the beginning. And it’s lovely to imagine this as the 1D reunion we all want.

Just Pretend by Kingsofeverything (90207, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) - fic post

Divorced dads + teenage daughters = pretending to date to keep their kids happy.

Reccer says: I love older Larry—and kingsofeverything writes them SO WELL.

And our honorable mention -- this fic has been removed from AO3, so I didn't feel comfortable publicly sharing a link outside the writer's control or wishes (though I'm sure folks can find copies if they go looking), but I couldn't not mention this absolute classic which is one of my favorite fake dating fics ever.

Pull Me Under by Zarah5 (140140, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: Homophobia, paparazzi harassment/stalking

Louis is a famous footballer outed against his will, Harry agrees to be his fake boyfriend to quell stereotypes and speculation.

Reccer says: Pining, emotion, beautiful writing... a fandom classic. Watching the delicate dance as they get to know each other and trust each other and learn from each other is beautiful. Zarah always does miscommunication so believably and realistically, where you can see exactly where things went awry but you still want to shake them because OH MY GOD YOU BOTH LOVE EACH OTHER

Read, reblog, kudos, and comment to your heart's content.

New category announcement coming soon!

#fake dating #category 4 #rec list #one direction #louis tomlinson #harry styles #zayn malik #liam payne #niall horan #1dficvillage #1dsource #1d rare pairs #allwaswell16 #alwaysxlarrie #ficsfor4am #hlcreators #hlficlibrary #tracksintheam #trackinghome

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sunny-knight · 8 days ago

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LETS FUCKING GOOOO!!!!!!

(@forgettable-au go read it, its so good)

DAWWWWWWGGGG THIS WAS JUST AN ABSOLUTE JOY TO READ

not at all soul crushing…Just pure “EHEHEHEHEHE” the whole time cause SANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! him and Floweys’ interactions are always such a treat when they’re both written canonically, like Sans KNOWS Flowey is a little weirdo, but hes got faith in him! hes got faith in everyone! especially Papyrus AND WE WILL GET BACK TO THAT.

Taking in the first frame…The only thing I could focus on was I LOVE THEIR SILLY LITTLE HOUSE!!!!!

I love when people make their surface house just their Snowdin house BUT THIS IS JUST DOWN-RIGHT ADORABLE. Very very fitting, the Christmas lights in the middle of summer HDHEHEHEHEH they would

also: Flowey just hates to see a man chill

This frame in particular, but also just him being in a lawn chair in general feels like a reference to the Reward Tier video and Im here for it

That is the face of a man whos thinking “UHHHHHHHH”

also, alternate ending: Sans is honest:

Now… Im gettin nervous on what Floweys plan is gonna be in getting Papyrus to go to Hotland, let alone- THE LAB 😭

Like no way is he gonna just waltz in there without a fight

like is Flowey just gonna gaslight him like “The GREAT Papyrus isn’t afraid of a little lava now, is he??”

Then…. the last panel.

YOU GET IT OMG YOU GET IT

Sans cares, yes, BUT HES NOT A HELICOPTER MOM he trusts himmm :(( Id say more on that but thats getting side tracked into more Undertale in general territory….ill probably make a rant about that later-

I love it sm I love them, them is great, they are awesome, theys is perfect. theyre have no flaws.

GAAAAHHHH again this whole thing was just a treat to read, unlike the last update I have less THEORIES and ANALYSIS and more just “:3”

BUT IM STILL MAD ABOUT THAT GODAMN COLLARED SHIRT HES WEARING. THAT IS WINGDINGS’ SHIRT. THAT IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. I AM NOT GOING CRAZY AND LOOKING WAY TOO DEEP INTO THINGS!!!!!

Sans just stole his swag

…I just had a thought as I was writing the tags………. and now im crying just a little bit….

AGAIN. I MIGHT. JUST BE LOOKING. WAYYYY TOO DEEP INTO THINGS. BUT…..IDK….

IDC IF ITS NOT REAL. THESE TEARS ARE

this frame feels deliberate.

The sun. IS A STAR.

NEED. I. SAY. MORE.

#Flowey cant handle the skelebros swag #forgettable au live reaction #forgettable au #the only brothers ever #the first and only brothers #i read a fanfic about how similar chara and asriel are to papyrus and sans and that has since never left my mind #THE PARALLELS #ITS TOO MUCH #im gonna call the police #yknow youve made it when you get a hand me down from your sibling thats the same age as you #as always these panels are just utter eye candy #SO PRETTY #im taking notes on your background rendering omg #.#this is the point when I realized the whole sun and star thing #and im not over it #ill never be over it #this isnt over #when i catch you sunsestart when i catch you #im totally normal about this #im totally not gonna steal it for future forgettable/undertale amvs #cause i mean- it works for both #Papyrus is a star ong fr fr 0 cap #outside of this aus context hes also totally raised by sans and a ‘sun’ aka ‘son’#IT WORKS ON SO MANY LEVELS #also why does Papyrus not know what the sun is #but then say that the sun will be on his skin when you interact with his bed #you dont make any godamn sense #and I love you

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frostbitten-writer · 1 month ago

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Dancing shoes

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!reader / Prince!Hobie Brown x Princess!reader

Tags: Royal AU, use of Y/N, FLUFF, description of clothes. I think it’s played in either London or some other port cities.

Warnings: None, maybe just a bit of banter. (If there are, please let me know!)

Authors note: Okay, this is a really really late wildcard post, but I couldn’t help myself nor post this earlier! Apologies for the inconvenience and confusion. Last entry for octobie! Oh no, October is already ending, what a shame!!! (Maybe we can do a December event as well with Christmas stuff 👀)

But pls check this event out -> @the-kr8tor and the lovely banners by -> @the-shroom-garden

Word count: 4k

“Shoulders back! Feet straight! Hands and arms loose! Stiffen those arm muscles! Y/N, do you even listen to what I am saying?!” The furious dance teacher exclaimed, his voice syncs to the rhythm of the waltz you're just learning.

“B-but you said to make my hands loose, how am I supposed to stiffen them?” You stuttered, looking down with wide eyes to your shoes as they stumbled around and sometimes stepped on your teachers feet.

“O mio dio.. Y/N, how are you supposed to dance at the ball this week? You dance like a cooked spaghetti!”

Your teacher sighed, scowling a few times as you continued to wobble around, almost breaking your ankles. You continued to swirl around, your heels clacking against the marbled surface, your flowy dress twirling in the sunlight, showing the soft pink hue it had.

And yet you were so embarrassed.. your parents invited the best dance teacher ever and he even came from Italy! That one teacher that helped every generation of your family, and yet he’s never seen such a disaster in his lifetime.

Lost in your thoughts and anxiety, you completely lost control over your legs, falling with a loud shriek onto your teacher's chest…

“What’s going on here?”

A voice echoed through the ballroom, with a person standing there serious and cold. Your mothers straight and strict expression suddenly cooled the entire ballroom, the warm sunlight suddenly getting blocked by clouds. Her white and flawless dress rolled down to her ankles, several straps of cold blue making her skin look even colder and forbidden to touch.

The orchestra silenced at her arrival, the people playing some wrong and off-key notes.

“She fell on me! Oh what will the people think of me when they find out I couldn’t teach her Royal Highness how to dance?" He whined on the floor as you quickly tried to help him up. “It’s not like I did it on purpose!” You tried to defend yourself, desperate not to hear your mother scolding and lecturing again. Your mother sighed and shook her head in disbelief, but at least it’s better to see her all furious.

“The poor prince! Look at what she did to my feet! My poor feet! All sore and tired of her heels stabbing them! What will even happen to him if she doesn’t learn how to dance! Such a shame! Such a disaster! Never in my fifty years of teaching-“

“Enough!” Your mother yelled, her voice ringing in your head as it went all through the long hall. “It’s your job to teach her! And I don’t know how you’ll do it, but you have just today for it! The prince will arrive today with his parents, since we have plans to deal with.”

“Today? Mother! You cannot be serious, I can’t just have today to learn it all! I look like a chicken without its head!” Running up to her you pleaded, but what will it even change? She never changed her mind, and unfortunately even if she did, the guests already sent a confirmation letter saying that they were already on their way…

“Y/N, what do you even want me to do? They’re already on their way, and you had a whole week to learn how to dance! I, at your age, didn't even need a day to learn it! What were you even thinking?” She scolded you, her so familiar voice once again nagging you.

“If you even dare to bring shame upon this family-” she threatened, looking down at you with pursed lips.

“Your majesty…” A soft voice calls out from the massive door. The usual maid that worked for your family was standing there, curled up against the doorframe to make herself smaller, as if wanting to disappear all together.

Your mother's expression softened at the call, looking at the girl. “Yes.. Jenny..” Your mother sighed, putting a hand over her forehead as if she were in distress.

“There is a meeting that you wanted to do today, since the Brown family is supposed to arrive shortly..” She spoke in a quiet voice, trying to avoid your mother's gaze from herself.

“Right.. with the Ravenstorm family, gosh how irritating they can be..” Your mother scoffed and turned herself to the door, making her way to the exit. You were about to breathe again when she looked back at you and said, “You better know how to dance tonight.”

Walking with your heels on and leaning on the wall, you were basically dragging yourself through the halls back to your chamber. Dancing for another couple hours without breaks was really tough, you bet you’ll have to ask Jenny for help with your painful and swollen calluses if you want to be able to dance.

With a loud sigh you stopped and took a small break, your feet not able to move at all.

You closed your eyes and leaned on the wall again, relaxing with a soft smile to the sound of footsteps…

Wait, Footsteps?

Oh goodness, footsteps!

You quickly propped yourself up, trying to look presentable to whoever was walking. It would be a shame to get caught leaning on the wall like a drunken sailor. If it were the case of your mother seeing you like this, you wouldn’t hear the end of the topic ‘What an embarrassment you are to the family.' Your dazed and tired mind lost any orientation, making you fall miserably in your heels…

“Shi-“ You whispered, awaiting the horrible and humiliating fall…

But you only felt a pair of arms catching you..

The soft smell of a woody cologne filling your nose…

The gentle and yet strong arms holding you in place.. good enough to almost fall asleep-

Wait. Whose arms?!

Your eyes snapped open and you looked up, only to see an amused grin on the person's face..

“I know I make many people fall for me… but I didn’t expect it to be literal..”

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry for this inconvenience, your Highness-“ You rambled with panicked eyes, trying to make this embarrassment up, but only to be stopped with the sound of laughter.

“No need for the formalities, princess. I am fine just like that.” He spoke in a smooth voice, before pulling away and letting you grip the wall with buckled knees.

“Hobie Brown for you, luv.” He spoke and took one of your hands, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles while maintaining eye contact. His dark eyes looked so loving, even though you’ve never seen him before, well only in drawings, you wouldn’t imagine him to look like that. The drawings couldn’t capture a single bit of life in his onyx irises, his pupils barely visible. He looked so caring, as if you knew each other for an eternity.

“Erm uhhhh- Y/N, just Y/N..” You murmured, your mind short-circuited for a second, a faint blush dusting your cheeks.

The handsome young man only smiled at your reaction, still holding your hand tenderly.

“So, what is a lovely gal like you doing in such an inhumane punishment of heels?” He snickered quietly, watching you slide up and down the wall as you tried to stand straight but failed horribly due to the sharp pain in the legs.

“I had some dance classes- gosh..my feet hurt..” You hissed in pain, surrendering completely and sliding down to the floor. You shut your eyes in pain, a bead of sweat started to form on your forehead. You swallowed hard and Hobie’s amused expression quickly vanished into one of concern. He kneeled down to your level, putting a warm hand on your knee.

“Should I help you to your chamber..?”

“Please..” You panted, feeling your eyes start to burn with unshed tears.

He silently helped you up, scooping you lightly up with his arm under your knees and the other one around your middle. Resting your head on his shoulder, you felt like you could breathe again. Him carrying you bridal style would usually be embarrassing, but oh you couldn’t care less.

Walking through the quiet halls he gently started to caress your upper arm, “you alrigh’..?” He mumbled quietly, his eyebrows forming into a sympathetic look.

“Yeah, I’m fine… thank you so much, I don’t even know how to thank you..” You looked up at him tiredly, a faint and relieved smile formed on your face, making him grin softly.

“I mean, I could have a request…”

“What is it? I’m telling you, I’ll do anything to pay you back- woah woah! Shi-!”

Your eyes turn wide and you jump out of his arms, only to be looked at with a wild and confused expression.

“What’s going on?” He asked as you were tugging on his sleeve, limping to a dark turn of a long hallway.

“Be quiet!” You whispered at him, trying to make him invisible in his white and golden suit.

“Wha- why?”

“Just- psh!!!” You pressed a hand over his mouth, only to hear muffled disapproval.

Milliseconds later you see three persons walking, a pair of his parents and-

“What’s going on?!” He whispered with a crazed look, looking down at you and holding your hand in his as he finally could talk.

“My Mother.”

“So what about it? Yeah, it’s your mom, nothin special!”

“Nononononono, it’s my mother, not my mom.”

You looked again at your mom and the guests, the people politely talking and making appropriate jokes. Your mother looked so sweet and warm, complete opposite to her usual attire. Everyone in the palace knew the antics of their queen, but no one dared to say anything about it, due to their status and the wrath they would face.

As they finally passed, you let out a shaky breath and checked if they left.

“Can you please explain why you were freaking out at the sight of your mom?”

“My mother is a super strict person, if would see saw you carrying me like that, he would behead me right away and then carry my head on a plate.”

“What? No way…”

After a long explanation and a long walk to your chamber, Hobie started to eat your ear off with his request.

“Oh cmon! It’s not like we will leave forever! Just a small walk around your city! I don’t even know what it looks like out there!” He tried to persuade you, walking next to you. You tried to get away from him, but as you limped he always caught up to you with his long strides.

“I can’t! I can never just go!” You exclaimed in a hushed tone, huffing as you walked the stairs.

“Of course you can! My parents always allow me to do everything, plus, I don’t believe in never!”

“I don’t believe in always!”

“Well see? You’re asking yourself why I’m following you, but we’re just the clear opposites! And y’know what? Opposites attract!” He teased with a sly grin, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“What? No! Never!” You stopped in your tracks, scoffing quietly.

“Always.” He shrugged with a crooked grin, enjoying his little banter.

“But cmoooon… Pleaaase… let’s goooo..” he would whine and tug on your arm lightly, looking at you with his soft and pleading eyes, his lower lip dramatically pouting.

“I’m gonna get in trouble!” You exclaimed, limping the last miles like a champ you are.

“You’re not! Just one word to my parents and we can leave for a week straight!”

“One word to your parents and I’m a living corpse!” You huffed, stopping and leaning again on the wall.

He would sigh exasperatedly, leaning back next to you and closing his eyes for a second.

“Y’know, we would’ve reached thaaaat door right here in seconds if you would’ve let me carry you~”

“Hobie, no-“

“Yes, my little princess. I can’t even imagine you walking in such tight shoes and with your aching calluses. Just one sentence and I will scoop you up and carry you like a princess you are~” He would look down, a teasing smile on his face.

“Cmon, love. You know you want it…” He teased, his smirk turning into a grin as he saw your scowl.

“… no.” You murmured softly and started to get away from him as fast as it was possible, but in reality it only looked as if your knees were broken.

“What?!” He gasped and quickly caught up to you, lifting you up without your consent and sneakily getting you both to your room…

The sound of your chair squeaking lightly already made your eye tick in the most annoying way. You’ve been stuck with this drama queen for probably half an hour as you treated your feet with bandages and oils, trying to make them a bit less aching. You were sitting on the edge of your bed, your feet on a small stool and Hobie rocking back and forth on your little vanity chair, his feet propped against the table.

“When will you finally finish? You’ve been fussing around your little feetsies for almost an hour!” He would whine and look at you as you perched to your legs in maybe not the most graceful way but you would only scoff and grumble, your hair irritating you even more as you tried to move it away but to no success.

“I’m trying my best! And be grateful that I’m even going with ya!”

“Alright, alright..” He would mumble, now interested in the things that were on your vanity chair.

“Eau de poopsicle… heh, the French really have a way with their names..” he would giggle and hold a glass of your perfume that you would wear every day, but the way that he just read the tag of it, made you rethink the daily use.

“I’ve got no idea what you just said, and I’m just gonna act like I didn’t hear it.”

“What! It literally says that on the glass! You can even look!” He would defend himself, about to stand up and push the bottle into your face.

“Ugh.. I’m done. Let’s go, troublemaker.” You would murmur and get yourself some new heels, a bit lower and that were considered as ‘daily and regular use’.

“You sound like my mom.. plus, are you seriously gonna wear heels again? Didn’t you just complain about them?”

“Yeah, but those are the only shoes that I have that don’t absolutely kill me.” His eyebrows would just only furrow and he would roll his eyes at you, but at least he already stood up, ready to leave.

He dusted his suit off, the white fabric making his dark skin look only more smooth than it did before, the golden straps make him look even more charming. He looked so strict with his sharp jawline and cheekbones, his eyes round and yet serious. If you didn't know better, you would’ve thought he were some super serious and propped man, when in reality he would be a little, handsome troublemaker.

“So, then, what’s the plan? We jumping out of the window?” He mocked, looking down at you as you tested the heels and if you were capable of walking in them.

“No, we’re going through the back exit, it’s not as crowded and is only used by maids and servants, cooks and other staff. We just have to get through without getting caught. We still have a few hours before the ball starts, so if we come again, we should be good…” You thought out loud, draping a thin summer cape over your shoulders, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“You look good, now, let’s go!” He would exclaim and take your hand in his, pulling you away from your reflection and to the door.

“Alright! Alright! Let’s go!” Quiet giggles would fill the hallways as you discreetly sneaked out of the palace, hands clasped together all the way. You were about to get caught several times, but only escaped at the last moment with suppressed laughs.

“Hmm.. such a beautiful breeze.. don't you think, love?”

“Yeah, quite the nice weather indeed…”

The little small talks would flow effortlessly, arms locked and strides slow and comfortable. The sun would slowly set, but there were still one or two hours left before the official start of the ball.

The port life was so much different than you imagined, so many different people walking and doing something, always fussing around. You and Hobie were quite the sight due to the clothes you wore, but no one paid much mind to it since they never saw you in person. How could they? They’re just mortals that don’t even know anything about the royal family, only some gossip flying around from the nosy aunties.

You decided to go around the market, looking around the different types of vegetables and jewellery people desperately tried to sell. You felt a bit pressured and wanted to look at all the different options, but Hobie would only tug on you and continue walking.

This time you forced him to stay, showing him the paintings on the display.

“Eh, darling, look at this option right ‘ere! Looks beautiful indeed, don't ya think? Only 5 pounds!” The salesman would try to persuade you, almost shoving the piece of paper into your hands.

“Oh George! Let this poor dove be! Don’t ya see yer pressuring her?! Your paintings ain’t even worth a pound!” A middle aged woman at the other stand called out, holding a newspaper in her hands as she smoked a cigarette, her head topped with a red bandana.

“Marge! Shut your lovely mouth for a second! I’m doing business ‘ere!”

“Yea, yeah! Right, business!” She called back, looking back at you and then to the newspaper.

“You two lovebirds look quite different from the folk ‘ere, visiting the port land?” She asked, her voice laced with a tinge of suspicion.

“No, just, looking around, I guess…” You murmured quietly, smiling sheepishly at the woman’s narrowed eyes.

“I think I saw ye somewhere, might help the aunty out?”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, madam…”

Hobie took a step back, tugging on your arm a bit more protectively than before. “Y/N.”

“Where you going, huh? I’m not done talking to ye!” The woman would call out a bit louder, causing more heads to turn around and the street to grow quieter.

“Dead fish in my mouth- aren’t you the princess?!” Someone from the crowd called out, the people slowly circling you two in.

“Run.” Hobie would murmur and the chaos began.

Hands tightly intertwined together, you pushed through the crowd, trying to get away from the questioning people. Hobie’s grip on your arm didn’t falter a second, pulling you through the people that were almost ripping your little cape.

Turning a corner, you were at the city’s port, different boats and ships sailing and moving. Running on the wooden floor you both began giggling and laughing, the adrenaline rushing through the veins as you were still followed by some desperate people.

“Love, c’mere!” Hobie would whisper in a hushed tone as he gingerly jumped on an abandoned wooden boat. It was clearly not used by anyone, since it was clammy and moist. You carefully grasped his hands and jumped, quick to lay down on his chest as you both tried to silence your loud panting.

As you lay on his chest, you looked up from underneath the dock, watching boots roam overhead.

The people ran back and forth before completely walking away with grunts of disapproval. When you were totally sure you weren’t followed, Hobie stood up pulling you up to your feet.

“Quite the adventure today, huh?” He would say with a soft smile, his hair a bit tousled.

“Yeah, adventure..”

Your small heels would make the small boat squeak, making the floor even more unsteady than it already was.

“Let’s go before the boat breaks down, right?” Hobie would joke, even though his eyes would betray the worry of the quality that the boat had. With the small steps you took the boat would rock side to side.

Step…

“Love, let’s be a bit quicker.”

Step…

“I’m trying.”

Step…

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Step…

“Hobie..”

“What?”

“The floor…”

A little crack would begin to appear on the floor, your white and pinkish heels pointing the way where the crack would only enlarge. Which was… exactly in the middle of the deck.

“Shoot! No, princess!” Hobie would call out with panicked eyes, trying to catch you up before you could fall into the water.

Your hands would try to reach his, but to no good since you already began falling backwards into the water.

The cold water would spike your skin but it wasn’t uncomfortable, but more like refreshing. As stupid as it sounded, it felt good.

Hurried hands would quickly pull you out of the water before you could fully submerge.

“Love! I am so sorry, please forgive me! Are you cold? Here, take my jacket, please.” Seconds later you felt warm velvet on your gentle shoulders, his jacket still carrying the warmth of his body.

“It’s all good! I never felt more alive!” You grinned ecstatically, teeth gently clackering.

“Oh goodness, you gave me a scare..” he sighed and gently hugged you, pressing your head against his chest as he tried to stop your shivering.

Heels in your hands you were wandering around the night city, your dress still slightly damp but you felt warmer due to the soup you ate in a small bar. The quiet city would feel so romantic… like it was made for you and you two only.

“Oi, love.. follow me..” Hobie’s smooth voice would feel like the warmest bath you ever had, making you look up at him with the sweetest smile.

Laughing as you went up a building, your hand would be tugged on by his.

Several moments later you were sitting on a rooftop, with the most perfect view you ever had. Not even the view from your balcony could compare with this one.

“Look, you can see the castle right there…” Hobie pointed at the large building miles away from you, the magical white palace adorned with soft and warm lights.

“Right, the castle…” You mused with a faint smile, resting your head on his shoulder.

“The dance!” You exclaimed with a gasp, quickly jumping up and bringing a hand to your mouth.

“Oh no, the dance! What will my mother say! She will be furious!”

“Love, love, relax..” His hand found your shoulder, his tall frame towering over yours.

“May I invite you to a dance, your Highness?” His smirk would grow into a genuine smile, a hand stretching out for you to accept.

“But I do not know how to dance, your Royal Highness…” You spoke in an elegant voice, doing a little curtsy on the cold rooftop.

“Oh but do not worry, I can lead it..~” he replied and took your hand in his, placing it onto his shoulder.

“One hand on the shoulder, the other in mine, your feet on my boots and we’re going to dance, your Highness…”

As his hand snaked to your waist, you felt your cheeks start to burn a bit, but you did as he said, your bare feet on his expensive leather shoes and hand on his shoulder.

“If you’re not a gentleman…” You teased, your smirk turning into a sweet grin as he started to sway you around, his legs effortlessly moving and dancing you in the moonlight.

“Of course I am, always was…”

You may get in absolute trouble for going out, may get killed or poisoned by your mother, but you would still go with him everywhere he would want. As he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, you just couldn’t help but smile. It just felt so right and you know that you would still go everywhere with your new lover, wherever it would be.

#atsv hobie #octobie #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #octobie wildcard #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #octobie fanfic #octobie'24

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