#he makes everything better i love him so much

[tasteracha]

a/n: when my angel @astraystayyh asks me for something i deliver. or make an attempt to. anyways please watch this before reading. warnings: subby hyunjin, mentions of alcohol, smut - MINORS DNI.

you loved all the colors of hyunjin. how could you not?

the deep shaded power with which he dances, sweat dripping off his temples and a fierce look in his eyes that only show when he’s on stage or pounding into you late at night. the carefree pastels that breeze through his hair when he has a day off, spending all his spare time with you with your fingers interlocked like he would lose his way otherwise. the soft mauves and grays of his sleepy eyes in the morning while you draw your fingers across his scalp, tracing along his nose down to his lips to feel the plushness underneath your skin. 

but the one that holds a fonder space in your heart was the one you were looking at now. his face is painted with the brushstrokes of a glass of wine, redness on his cheeks and stained across his lips. he’s warm, you know he is, even if you haven’t touched him yet. your own half full glass sits forgotten on the nightstand, the heat from the alcohol just enough to burn at your stomach and scorch high on your cheekbones. 

he’s talkative, speaking about everything and nothing while he holds you in the palm of his hand with just his eyes. soft giggles escape his lips, given to you freely despite how precious every sound that comes from his lips are. you take his hand in yours, finally drinking in the warmth of his palm as you hold it to your lips for a chaste kiss. it was innocent, a helpless motion that you don’t even realize you’re doing, but the look he gives you in response is anything but that. his eyes darken for a moment before he groans, sliding onto his back and stretching out his tired limbs. his cardigan rides up, exposing a sliver of his shoulder, taught skin over hard muscle, and you can feel your mouth begin to water. 

he’s left with his head tilted back, his neck a blank canvas begging to be colored by you, and your heart begins to beat faster. 

“god, i love you,” he turns his head towards you, letting his hand fall onto his stomach right above the waist of his pants. his legs are spread, beckoning you to fill the space between them. “did you know that?”

he’s not drunk, at least not from the wine. he’s drunk off of you, the mere presence of your body in bed with him is enough to make him lose a bit of his sanity. 

it’s not as if you’re any better with the way your body is singing for him. 

“yes, silly boy,” you smile, leaning over him to brush your lips against his jaw. “you only tell me every day. it’s not as if i could forget it.”

you throw your leg over his and slot yourself into the space that he left for you, and for the first time in the night he is silent. he watches your every move and his breath hitches when you place your hand next to his, ghosting across the muscles rippling on his stomach. 

“i love you, too,” you lock your fingers with his, squeezing them together. “do you want me to show you how much?”

he barely gets time to breath out a yes before you’re leaping forward, kissing him with a passion that never depletes no matter how much time passes by. he opens his mouth for you and you take the invitation, sliding your tongue against his. you can’t get enough of his taste, wine and his cherry lip balm and him. you move your lips down to his neck, biting sharply then soothing the spot with a lick. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him, but before he can get too far you take his wrists into your hands and pin them to the mattress at his sides. 

“keep these here, okay?” he nods so quickly that his hair shakes with the movement. satisfied, you sit up and slide down, dropping to your knees in front of him. freeing his cock from his pants comes more easily to you than breathing, the movements committed to memory like the way his feet move when he’s dancing. you leave his pants hanging off of his knees, too impatient to maneuver them off of him. 

you take his cock into your mouth, sucking lightly and hollowing out your cheeks. you look at him through your lashes, and the innocent look paired with the obscene sounds coming from your mouth making him growl fiercely. he reaches his hand towards your head, moving to card his fingers through your hair.

“darling, you’re so-” he cuts off when you pull away, fixing him with a look. 

“what did i say?” you move your eyes to his hand, still hovering in the air by your head, and he drops it back to the bed with wide eyes. 

“good boy,” you smirk when he shudders, giving him a moment to adjust before going back down on him. you lick a stripe up your hand to ease the slide of your hand on his cock, pairing it with sucking and licking at his head. you take him a bit deeper and you can feel his hips shift. the muscles on his stomach ripple in restraint, and you feel a swell of pride at him doing what he’s told. 

he’s so good to you. 

“where do you want to come?” you move away, leaning your head on his inner thigh as you lazily pump your hand along his shaft. he’s been so good, he deserves to make this choice. 

“i- what?” his eyes are hazy, your words not registering in his pleasure soaked brain. 

“on my face? in my mouth?” your breaths his hit exposed skin and he twitches, his bottom lip capturing between his teeth. “it’s your choice, baby. your reward, for being so good.” 

in truth, he’s barely done anything to deserve a reward, but the fondness you feel for him makes you want to praise him over and over. 

“in-” he clears his throat when his breath catches. “in your mouth, darling, please.”

you run a soothing hand down his thigh but it does nothing to calm him down. you shake your head fondly before taking his cock into your mouth for the last time. you speed up, sucking harder than before, going deeper, moving your hand in a flurry. the sudden change of pace makes him release a series of noises that make your head spin. little whimpers mix with soft moans, and he throws his head back as his entire body goes taut. strands of white paint the inside of your mouth, and the taste doesn’t bother you because it’s him.

you keep him in your mouth, swallowing his release around him and suckling him clean until he starts to whine in sensitivity. he releases his hands from their invisible prison and pulls you up and close to him, tucking your head into his neck and wrapping his arms around you. his hold is so tight, like he’s afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you in a death grip. 

“you?” he whispers, stretching his languid body underneath you and sliding one hand down to cup your ass. 

“i’m okay, you can pay me back later,” you giggle against his neck and he sighs, his entire body going slack as he lets himself relax in his post-orgasmic bliss. 

“did you know that i love you?” he says against your hair, and you snort out a laugh. 

“do you want to do this again?” you roll your hips against his softening cock and he squeaks, tightening his arms around you even more than they already were. 

the sound of your shared laughter echoes through the room, taking the shape of affection that doesn’t need to be spoken.

[avatar-anna]

this is the second part of my exrry in italy oneshot! you can read that here

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[sinofwriting]

Insane Person - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 667 Summary: Max wants to be sure he can give Pan kids. (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse) Note(s): Takes place during the original I ❤️ MILFS fic, before Max finds out Pan’s age. Max is insane btw, this has been a blurb idea since I wrote the original fic and finally it has been written so enjoy, lol.

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

“I’d love to give Logan a sibling or two.”

The words so soft had made his heart speed up as soon as he heard them and now thinking about them, letting them play on repeat.

It’s early in their relationship, though they haven’t yet talked about it yet, no matter how much Max is dying to do so. But Max wants to be the one that she gives Logan siblings with.

Which is why he’s sitting in front of his computer and looking at medical studies.

A lot of it is going over his head. The most schooling he sat through was the first four or five years of it. He can grasp engineering, anything to do with cars and their data, but medical terminology goes over his head.

He powers through, he doesn’t know Pan’s exact age, his mother would smack him over the head if he even thought to ask her age, but she’s got to to be mid to late thirties if not early forties considering Logan is twenty.

The studies say she’d be fine getting pregnant, shouldn’t have trouble conceiving, and his cheeks burn at the word, at the image it puts in his mind. They haven’t quite got their, but they’ve gotten close. They throw out the term geriatric pregnancy which makes him flinch because forty wasn’t old, at least not if you weren’t a driver and to see it be called something like that felt harsh, rude. Another one calls it advanced maternal age which really isn’t any better, but it’s just relieving to see that’s still possible. And then a study mentions that if people are having trouble conceiving that not only does the person birthing need to get checked, but both do and a new panic takes over his brain.

What if when it came time to try, he was the problem? It would really be his luck. Things had been going very well for the past few years, it would be his luck that he couldn’t give the woman he loves more kids.

And Logan wanted siblings, the panic grows as he remembers Logan chiming in that he’d love some siblings. Oh god, what if he failed in giving Logan siblings? He wanted the younger driver to like him, to really like him.

His fingers act quickly, wanting to know how he can know if he can have kids and the results make him blink because it couldn’t be that easy.

He just had to provide a sample in a cup?

Max’s brain struggles to compute that after just reading everything that women have to go through to get their fertility checked.

His hand goes to his phone, he rarely if ever called his doctor, but this was important.

He goes through the motions of confirming he is who he is, wondering how weird it must be for other people to do this for him before he finally gets asked why for the purpose of the appointment.

“I want to check to see if I can have kids.”

“Okay, are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?”

His cheeks burn, “We aren’t trying yet. I just want to make sure that it’s possible on my end.”

“Okay, it’s a simple procedure at our clinic and we could see you in the next three days if that works for you at any time we are open.”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright, we’ll see you in a few days, Mr. Verstappen.”

He gets the results back five days after his appointment, an email sitting in his inbox, and he forces himself to take a deep breath before finally opening it.

There are words he doesn’t know, ones he doesn’t really want to think about, but there at the end, a note from his doctor that says everything looks great, and he shouldn’t have troubles getting someone pregnant and his fist goes in the air, a quiet but excited yes leaving him.

He could give Logan siblings and Pan more kids, thank fuck.

[blingblong55]

What Would I do?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

A/N: I woke up, wrote this in the middle of the night, listened to my sleeping playlist and decided that you could need this, so...here you go. All the events aren't written in chronological order, but rather moments at random that lead to something...I won't spoil this part, so read it, babes. I know this isn't to the quality of the latest ones I've put out but just bare with me on this one, I had a lot of ideas! And you’re more than welcome to search the title on Spotify, it’s a good song that obviously matches this fic

-- F!Reader, established!relationship, fluff, boyfriend!simon --

Boyfriend, what a word for a man like him. Is it the sweetness of your touch? Could it be the way you are so gentle with him? Maybe it's the way he found himself driving to your place instead of his own after a long day of work. Whatever it is, the answer to all his problems is you. You, you, you, and lovely you. 

From the beginning, he told you he isn't a man that will ever be called a husband. You, of course–saddened by this comment–just nodded and accepted it. He always meant it because, with the life he's had, there is no way in hell he would want to add to his worries. Plus, he doesn't need love, doesn't need the companionship. It's just him and the stress he carries. 

Then, you came in. 

"Before we begin this, I won't ever marry you, I'm not sorry if you feel bad, it's just my decision." He states and since it's a fresh relationship, you nod, "I understand." 

From then on, he didn't need to remind you. It was always in the back of your head that no matter what, he'd stay a boyfriend. Even now, five years into a relationship. Living in separate places, and different friend groups, your love for him persists and you stay through the good and bad. Maybe it's because even if you'll never wear the wedding dress in your Pinterest board, you will have him, for however long he'll have you. Please, god let it be forever. 

--

"I can't sleep," you say over the phone. This is how it started. How after one year together, he finds himself driving to your place, you didn't ask for it but he won't let your insomnia ruin your day off. What is it about you that has him finding ways to make your life better? Could it be that you drove to pick him up one time from the airport? Maybe it's the way kissing you feels? No, that can't be. Is it that you understand him? Maybe. 

Whatever it is, he unlocks your front door with the spare key you gave him. As he approaches your room, he finds you listening to the song you said reminds you of him. What's this weird feeling in his chest? Why does this scene make him feel warm? Goosebumps, no, he never gets goosebumps. 

He pushes your door gently and you turn around. "Simon, hi," you immediately pause the song, hoping he didn't recognise it in time. But he did and that caused him to smile—oh silly girl. "Hi, lovie," his voice much softer now. Hesits down, wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses your head. "What's in that pretty head of yours, hm?" he asks and at the same time, you find yourself to be more comfortable in his hold. 

"Everything," you mumble and that's when you hear that deep and soft chuckle of his.

Within five minutes, he finds himself lying in bed with you, holding a book he found on your nightstand. He looks down at you, your head resting on his chest, right where it belongs. 

As you close your eyes, that's when you hear it, he starts to read out loud. Usually, he would just lay in bed until you fell asleep. But not tonight, something told him to just read to you. Is it that maybe he wants you to be comfortable? Toprovide you what you provide for him? Whatever it is, it has got him here. His voice is soothing, it's calming in many ways. He doesn't understand it, no matter how many times you explain that you love it. 

--

"Lovie?" he calls out to you when he arrives at your place. This is the first time he calls you a pet name. It feels...odd but good to do this. He steps further into your place, the lights are dim, something he knows you love because it makes the rooms more "aesthetically pleasing to walk into". "Love?" he calls out and that's when panic sets in. 

You always answer, to the first time he calls your name. 

He rushes into your room, only to see you asleep. There is a moment when his gaze softens. It's almost comical how much he has changed. How much he has wanted to change. 

He was never like this with past partners, I mean he did like them and all but with you, he is trying and trying to understand all your creases, to become someone worthy of much more than that sweet smile you give him. So, he leans by the doorway to your bedroom and watches you sleep. 

How can someone be so beautiful at all times? How can you make him feel so...good? So safe and happy? God, he loves you. And as he watches you sleep, he feels his chest warm up, something odd and for a second it feels like he is getting a heart attack. But then he realises it.

He is in love...true love. 

--

"What's this?" he asks as one day he finds you, sitting by the dining table with a cake and a candle. 

"It's your birthday, and I know you don't celebrate but...maybe this can be a one-time thing," your voice soft and that's when he feels his chest tighten. He drops his bags, makes sure the door is locked and sits beside you. He pulls you onto his lap and wraps his arms around you. You light up a singular candle, holding the small cake to him. 

At this moment, when the only light comes from the candle and the kitchen hood lights, he can take his mask off and appreciate how you gently sing for him. This was the first time he celebrated his birthday, well...first time in over a decade where it felt good to do so.

When he blows the candles, his gaze shifts from the cake to you. You kiss his forehead and his brows furrow whilst his eyes close. God, this is home. "Happy birthday, Simon," you whisper as you set the cake down. 

Maybe heaven is real after all. His faithless prayers were answered and his angel arrived. 

--

Coughs, headaches and long naps.

Simon has been sick for three days so far and has possibly got the best nurse around. You.

"Eat–"

"I'm not hungry, y/n," he says but you give him that mum look. "Eat, Simon." you persist and he sighs, opening his mouth as you feed him a spoonful of soup. You smile as you watch him eat. It worries you that this is the first meal he actually accepts but you're also content about it. "S'good," he comments and you nod. Of course, it's good, you think. 

As you leave the room to get him some warm tea, he lays there, appreciating the past days. He wouldn't admit it but he loves this, loves to get pampered by you. It's the first time in so long that where feels cared for, like someone out there means all the little things they do to make him feel better. 

--

Dinner at your family's house. He is nervous even though he's been here before. This time he feels different, there is something in the air tonight. He holds your hand as you walk through the threshold. 

Greeting family members was always the longest part but if you enjoy it, so will he. 'God, this wasn't me before you came in, Y/N,' he says to himself. 

Sitting around the family room, your sibling's children run around and while you get carried away talking and gossiping with your siblings, he finds himself being the centre of attention to all the children. "Uncle Simon, I want to fly like a plane again!" one of the younger kids exclaimed. You look around and see him there, holding a child in his arms, the biggest smile on him as he watches the child giggle while he parades them around the room as if they were a plane. 

He puts the child down, looks over at you and his gaze softens. Your heart melts at this. He has never looked so perfect like right now. 

On the drive home, he holds your hand in his as he drives. 

There is something in the air. Something sweet that screams future life. He looks over at you for a second then back at the road. That's how he finds himself picturing you and him, moving in together, settling down and running around the house you both call home, chasing your children while he tries to fix the light in the kitchen. 

Domesticty is what he craves when it's just you two.

--

There came a time when he lay in bed with you, shirtless with only his boxers on as he laid his head on your chest. Hisarms lazily resting at your sides, bodies intertwined while he listens to your heartbeat. Your hand caresses his back while the other runs from his neck to his hair. He hums, slowly mumbling about his day. Maybe after all havingsomeone isn't the end of the world. 

He closes his eyes, taking in the comfort of your hold, the bedsheets and the safety he feels at this exact moment. 

--

Three days, that's how long it took for a mission to last before he calls you, mid-day for him, midnight for you. "My love, where are you?" he asks in a panic. "Home, why? Is everything okay?" you ask before he cuts you off. "I was taking a nap and dreamt that you died," he says, nearly out of breath. 

"Trust me, it will be hard to get rid of me, you've got me for at least thirty lifetimes," you say with a smile and he can hear it. He loves it when you distract him with witty comments. "I better have you for more than thirty, my love," he says at that moment, the nickname feels right. More than right. He wants to keep calling you that until his dying breath. 

--

It was a random evening. You were stuck figuring out some hobby of yours as he cooked dinner. And as he waits for the food to be done baking he leans on the counter and looks out the window. 

He thought about the one time he dodged a failed relationship with you. 

What if you hadn't sat down and talked it out? Would you be in another man's arms? Would you be giving them the kisses that belong to him? What if your cuddles belonged to another guy? 

Your laugh rings in his ears and he can't imagine you laughing at any other man's jokes but his. Who but you to laugh at his jokes, your hand on his shoulder or chest as your eyes crinkle at the corners like always? 

It hits him suddenly that all those years ago when he told you that he would never be someone's husband should have never been said. You know why. It is because he won't be someone's husband, not when in his mind he has been yours all along. Sure he doesn't have the official title but the nose kisses you give him, the ones where he pretends to hate them with a grumble are something. 

--

"There is something, something I lied about years ago when I met you." he begins. You're in his lap, surely it isn't to end this sweet love. "I find myself hating on what I said, hating that it's been a lie. I love you," his voice softens at those three words, he sighs and looks into your eyes. "I have no idea what my life looks like from the outside, but when I look at my future, there is one thing I see," he clears his throat. "You, I see you and me. I always thought of myself as the guy everyone forgets about, because he had three friends and that was it."

He takes your hand in his, "And then, you came along, and I see a life, I see myself in ways I never did before. Youchanged me, you make me want to keep coming home, coming to hold you, to show you I will never break my promise." His lips find your knuckles, "I have no fucking idea what life is after you because I don't want a life after you, I want my life to be spent here. I have no clue what or who I was before you came into my life. What would I do without? No clue but I know what to do with you now," he looks into your eyes and you see how much he means every word. 

"Just promise me this, stay with me." he gently gets up and your gaze shifts as now you look up at him. "Stay, because I am nothing but a lifeless soldier, looking for someone and I'm done looking, y/n, I found you and that's all I need now," he says. 

He gets down on one knee, "Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?" He asks, his gaze full of so much hope and in that moment, your heart races. Tears well up in your eyes and you nod. Speechless but with a huge grin, you nod. 

"Yes," you manage to say. You don't even notice the ring, but you feel him slide it onto your ring finger. He smiles, like a child on Christmas as he gets up and embraces you, making sure this isn't him creating an illusion. 

"Oh, my love," his voice muffled, face buried in your neck. "I love you so much and I will prove to you that this wasn't a mistake. I will make you the happiest woman alive," he says, pulling away and kissing you with conviction. 

Tags: @liyanahelena @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @night-mare-owl-79  @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik  @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bitter-majesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky–bunny @honestlyhiswife @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt @gh0st-hunt2r @believeinthefireflies95 @noodlezz-bedo @alexaseeraj  @trinthealternate @vampsquerade @azkza @VampyTheGoth

[st7rnioioss]

꣑ৎ BUNNY!READER x SHY!MATT STURNIOLO

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... my awkward babiessss, crying, comforting, soo gentle kisses, pet names (baby, sweetie, princess, sweetheart), matt being gentle with bunny!reader :((

matt’s fingers ran carefully up and down your back, resting his chin on your shoulder as his other arm tightened its grip around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, praying you couldn’t feel his heart going a million miles per hour.

you let out soft sobs and cries, your face buried in matt’s neck, your arms draped awkwardly over his shoulders as the tears kept flowing from your waterline. he felt your hot breath on his neck, your breathing unsteady as you let out cries between breaths.

matt knew how sensitive you were, and how easily the waterworks started coming from just a small snarky comment. you never talked much back, so whenever someone threw a hateful comment your way, you got so confused and frustrated that you couldn’t help your eyes brimming with tears.

matt didn’t mind it one bit - he loves you unconditionally and is always there to help and ‘hug it better’, as he says.

he hates seeing his pretty girl upset. he’s so used to your soft-spoken nature, always treating everyone and everything with so much care and gentleness. he doesn’t mind that you’re a crybaby at heart.

so when you came home from work, your adorable face already pouty and not looking back up at him when he greeted you, he knew immediately something was wrong. he helped you get out of your coat and shoes, taking your hand to bring you to your bed and shyly heisting you onto his lap.

“m’sorry, matt..” your crying always left your mind running. not only did it make you completely nervous and awkward sitting in his lap, but now you were crying and clinging onto him. you thought you had completely ruined matt’s peaceful day by coming home with teary eyes until he shushed you.

“shh, none of that, sweetie..” he felt his heart ache at your quiet sobs, bringing your face to his chest as his hand made it to the back of your head, his chin now resting on the top of your head. “i hate seein’ you cry.. you gotta let me know what’s bothering you, sweetheart.”

you shuffled closer to him, if possible, letting out a sob as you felt the hot tears roll down your cheeks. “it was at the bakery t’day,” you sniffled, your arms wrapping around his middle, toying with the fabric of his shirt, his fingers caressing the back of your head. “um.. a woman came in, and- and she started complaining about something i made.. and said the service was horrible… she was so mean!” you sobbed, feeling matt pull back slowly to look at you, meeting your teary eyes.

he cupped your face with both his hands, his lips turning into a copy of your pouty ones. his eyes were ever so gentle, his thumbs shyly wiping the tears off your flushed cheeks as the fat tears fell.

“oh, princess.. don’t listen to a word she said. y’know how hard you work, she’s got no clue what she’s on about. i’ve tried every single pastry, and they’re all just as sweet as you.” his words were firm but he had such a pleasant and careful tone to them. one of his hands let go of your face, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, offering you a weak smile.

your heart fluttered at his words and actions, returning the faint smile while leaning into his touch. “thank you, matt..” you mumbled, regulating your breathing as he mumbled a quiet “you’re welcome.” you brushed some curls of hair out of his eyes, flicking it to the side to properly meet his shy gaze.

you both kept eye contact, until you noticed matt’s face starting to blush, making you smile wider, looking away from him as your own face heated up. your heart was thumping away as he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. he wanted to kiss your adorable face so bad, to kiss the tears away. but instead he looked away as well. by now, you had completely stopped crying, forgetting all about the rude lady, just sucking in the moment.

you suddenly felt a little awkward, being so, so close to him, and getting a little flustered from crying into his neck for the past fifteen minutes or so. matt felt the exact same way, but not that either of you was complaining about it. he liked being close to you, and so did you.

when you met his eyes again, he saw his shot to gently lean forward, kissing your pouty lips, his lips barely even touching yours. it was a silent way of telling you that he was always there to reassure you, always by your side no matter what.

as always, the feather-light kiss left you flustered, shyly looking back up at him with a wicked smile on your lips. his own face was beet red, getting all hot and bothered from, in his world, bold move. his fingers came to rest under your chin, tilting your head backward to peck your lips again, the soft kiss making both your heads spin.

more bunny!reader here!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ tags: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @sturnsmia @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills

let me know if you'd like to be added or removed at any time!

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[scarletemeterio]

hii, saw u wanted arcane requests. from what ive seen on tiktok, apparently jinx was able to escape after the explosion in the very last episode and survived and ran away on that blimp thing, so could u please write a jinx x fem reader where after the explosion, jinx comes to get reader and they run away together happily to another region to have a fresh start and have a quiet, peaceful life. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls and thank you.

A Fresh Start (Jinx x Gn!reader)

Warnings: mentions of death, use of (Y/N) once

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Fandom: Arcane

Summary: see request

Word Count: 1.6k

No set pronouns for reader

•••

You still remembered every detail, every word said, replaying the moment in your head. You'd had a fight with Jinx, nothing serious you'd thought, but when she and Ekko found you, you could see the pain in her eyes. She came running to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things I said,” she apologized, her voice breaking. “You've always been there for me, and I've been ungrateful about that.”

You hugged her tightly, with your arms surrounding her waist, hiding your face in her shoulder.

“It's okay, it doesn't matter now,” you mumbled. “Are you okay?” You asked, breaking apart and caressing her face.

She simply nodded, but you could read her like an open book, and you knew that there was something she wasn't telling you.

Before you could keep questioning her, Ekko decided to speak.

“I hate to interrupt the sweet moment and everything, but we have to hurry if we wanna survive,” he said. You gave him a confused look, slowly breaking your embrace with Jinx.

“Yeah, the world is basically about to end,” the girl said. And both she and the boy tried their best to give you all the information you needed, trying to come up with a plan.

When you were almost finished with the globe, Jinx pulled you apart for a moment, wanting to talk to you.

“I really am sorry about before," she started saying, “I just couldn't think straight at the moment and I took it out on you.”

“Hey, I said it was okay and I meant it,” you comforted her, grabbing her hand.

“I just don't want us to be on bad terms, we don't know what could happen out there,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

“We're not on bad terms, okay? Don't worry about that, my love,” you answered, not wanting to think about the worst case scenario.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, (Y/N), I'm so lucky to have met you. You mean the world to me, and I love you so much.” Tears were already falling down her cheeks, making it hard to contain yours too.

“I love you, too, baby.” You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes to better savour the moment. “Don't worry, we're gonna be okay,” you tried to reassure her. “I'm not saying today will be easy, but we'll make it, and soon this will all be just a dark moment from the past.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck once again, not being able to control her sobs anymore. You were taken aback from the sudden action and her reaction. Her embrace was tight and almost filled with dread, almost as if she was certain something bad would happen. You decided to get those thoughts out of your head. Danger was knocking at the door, and you couldn't ignore it anymore; the moment to fight had come.

When you got to the fight scene, Vi quickly joined you, and so did Vander. Ekko took control of the globe, making it crash into the building, knocking the air out of your lungs. When you finally got back on your feet, you quickly went to help Vi and Jinx against Vander, but a hard blow at you was the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness.

You had no idea how long you were out of it. Ekko's figure was the first thing you saw when you woke up, and he helped you sit down slowly.

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “You got hit pretty badly.”

“I'm fine,” you groaned. “Where’s Jinx?” He ignored your eyes, tilting his head. “Ekko?”

He only had to look at you, and you could instantly feel the world crumble around you. Tears quickly flooded your eyes, still looking at the boy in front of you.

“Tell me it's not what I'm thinking,” you pleaded.

“She sacrificed herself to save Vi.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted it to be some sick joke, for her to get into the room and tell you that it wasn't true, that she was fine and you didn't have to worry about anything. But you knew her, and you knew something felt off about her in that last conversation you had. Turns out something bad did end up happening.

•••

Not many days had passed, the pain still fresh. You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the city in front of you. You were in the spot Ekko had shown you not long ago, trying to find a bit of peace in contrast to the mess in your head.

Life in Zaun was very unpredictable, which made it difficult to make long-term plans, but also made it easy to not get attached to anything nor anyone. But Jinx was the exception. You just couldn’t stop yourself from getting attached to her, and now you were suffering the consequences.

To be honest you wouldn’t really change anything, not even the pain you were feeling right now. Changing things would mean not even getting to know her, and you were grateful to have met her, to share your life with her. You were simply paying life’s price for love.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, but you kept your gaze to the front.

“I'd really like to be alone, Ekko,” you said, assuming that the boy had come to check on you.

“I'm not Ekko.”

You froze in place. You had to be hallucinating, it had to be the only explanation. She was gone, and nothing would change that. You shook your head in disbelief, looking up at the sky.

“I'm even hearing her voice now,” you said. You could feel that presence even closer now, and you quickly grew frustrated with what you thought was your own mind. “Leave me alone!” You screamed, turning to the presence behind you and freezing once again when you finally saw her.

“Hey, it's me,” she whispered.

You quickly got up, never breaking eye contact.

“But- You- How?” It was all you could say, barely whispering, still not truly believing what you were seeing. She was right there.

“I guess being injected with crazy amounts of shimmer to keep me from dying had its perks,” she explained almost jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “I managed to escape the explosion.”

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you come back right away? Why let us believe you were dead?” You had a million questions in your head, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy.

“I needed everyone to believe it, to have a fresh start. Vi would never give up on me if she knew I was still alive; she'd follow me to the end of the world.”

You still kept your distance from her, it all seemed unreal. A few minutes ago you were grieving her, and now she was right in front of you, as beautiful as ever. But you felt anger inside you as well. She could've told you, she could've saved you from that horrible pain of thinking she was actually gone for good.

“You knew you were gonna fake it all along, didn't you?” You realized, thinking about that last conversation you two had. “That's why you were so emotional, so shaken and distressed.”

“Baby, I-.”

“You knew, right?” You interrupted her, voice cracking with your words.

“I did.”

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know when you'd started crying, but the tears kept falling down your face.

“You let me believe you were dead, Jinx! Dead!” You didn't even try to hide how emotionally distressed you were. You needed to let everything out. The blue-haired girl broke the distance between you two, holding you in her arms while you sobbed into her chest, quickly collapsing to the ground.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I made a mistake and I should've told you,” she said while running her hand through your hair. You could tell by her voice that she was also crying, filled with guilt. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“I get why you did it,” you told her after a while. “I don't blame you for wanting peace, but you have no idea how much it hurt me to think that I'd lost you.”

She cupped your face and made eye contact with you before pressing your foreheads together. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, feeling like she could never say it enough times to express just how much she regretted not letting you know before.

“I'm just glad you're actually okay, love.” You leaned in to her touch, savouring the moment after such turmoil.

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“I want you to come with me,” she uttered.

“Come where?” You questioned.

“I don't know, away from here,” she replied. “I really want that fresh start, but I know that trying to live without you would be absolute hell. I've had many uncertainties in my life, but you just feel right. If there's something I'm sure of is that I love you, with every part of me.”

“I love you, too,” you told her. “And I'd also follow you to the end of the world.” You let out a hopeful smile, and so did she before cupping your face to kiss you.

Her lips against yours felt absolutely right, like it was just the way it had to be, forever and ever. You belonged together, and there was nothing you wanted more than to build a future with her, away from all the ghosts from the past. You knew it wouldn't be easy, both of you had a lot to let go of but with her by your side everything felt a bit easier, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

•••

i absolutely loved this request, thank you anon! i'm a sucker for angst

also i'm 100% sure she's still alive

[yuyuyunnie]

Only A Dream | J.WY

pairings: mad hatter! wooyoung x reader (fem)

summary: Wooyoung adventures into your reality, shocking you after the memorable night you both had. Taking you back to Underland, Wooyoung showers you in love, thinking it will be his last night with you ever. Part two to Mad Hatter! Wooyoung series!

warnings: unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), oral sex (f receiving), slight smacking like once, pretty much soft sex with Wooyoung

word count: 5k

authors note: Okay, hear me out! Thank you so much for the love you showed on the first part of this quick Wooyoung!mad hatter idea I had! I've had some people questioning how he came to her world, etc., and now, through this part, I will explain the quick lore (it basically goes along with Alice in Wonderland) and at least answer some of your questions. Again, if you have any requests, please send me ideas! Thanks so much!

part one / part two

⁂𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽⁂

“I’ve gone mad.”

You stare at Wooyoung, his cheeks full of pancakes. The diner around you was bustling, the atmosphere nowhere near as confusing as the one buzzing between you and the Mad Hatter. Ever since your dream—or better yet, the unforgettable sex—you’ve been confused, mind-boggled at how in the hell he showed up at your front door after just waking from your slumber. 

You remember everything; the way his hands roamed your body, the way his fingertips pressed into your hips, god the way his tongue lapped up your release—fuck. Your body shuttered, your mind returning to the scene before you: Wooyoung downing the breakfast before him.

“You’re only mad if you believe you are,” He smiled, his cheeks causing his eyes to squint from how full they were. 

“Well,” You chuckled dryly, “Seems that I’ve gone bonkers since you’re here, in my world, eating pancakes right in front of me when you were just in my dream. Explain that to me, please.” 

Wooyoung swallowed his mouthful, his cutlery clinking against the table as he wrapped his fingers together, his eyes boring into you. How could he explain to you the magic of Underland? Surely you got a slight hint of the magic just from drifting in and out of his world through your dreams, but you were utterly and completely shocked to his dismay. Not only could Wooyoung get to you through your dreams—and by you calling for him—he can get into your reality through the looking glass. It was hard to explain, it’s something he needed to show you. 

The thought of your eyes lighting up at the magic made his mind swirl. He loved the child-like wander in your eyes—the innocence—and how you were slowly slipping into madness. The mere thought of corrupting you to the point where you couldn’t make yourself go back sent shivers down Wooyoung’s spine. Having you down there in Underland with him forever? Honey to his ears. His heart thrummed at the idea, his palms sweaty with eagerness to lace your fingers together and drag you through the looking glass, fuck, Wooyoung wanted you so badly.

To himself at that. 

“It’s hard to explain, my sweetness,” He hummed, “It’s better if I showed you.” 

Grabbing your hand, Wooyoung pulled you from your chair, dragging you out the restaurant. 

“Wait-“ You huffed, “We have to pay!”

Ignoring your protest, the Hatter continued to pull you down the street, the restaurant owner yelling explicitly at you, your faint ‘sorry’s’ getting lost in the bustling street life. You continued to tumble over your feet as Wooyoung pulled you further and further into the city, the streets becoming more familiar. Turning down to the all too familiar street of your apartment, Wooyoung comes to a halt in front of San’s job. You cocked your head, turning your gaze over to him, his eyes already gazing at you. 

“Okay,” You chuckled, “Why’re we here at San’s job? He doesn’t work on Saturdays.”

He didn’t even answer, dragging you into the dimly lit store. San was a clockmaker, delicately fixing and modeling clocks. He made pocket watches, grandfather clocks, modern clocks—anything you can think of, San could turn it into a clock. The owner of the store sent a curt nod, fixating his gazer back to the grandfather clock that he was delicately working on, his fingers nimble with the tiny screw coming out from inside. 

Weaving you through the selection, Wooyoung took you to the back of the store. Older models sat in the back, dust slowly collecting on the intricate pieces, and right between them, a large mirror with golden artwork carved around the frame stood in the shadows. Wooyoung finally let go of your hand, his fingers tracing the the frame as he stared at his reflection, his eyes drifting to you. 

“This,” His eyes roamed the entirety of the mirror, “This is how I can enter your world.”

“A mirror?” You mumbled, resting a hand on your hip. 

“Not just any mirror,” He mumbled, “but a looking glass.” 

His eyes fell back onto yours before a devious smirk rose on his face. Without saying anything else, Wooyoung stepped through the mirror, actually stepped through, and disappeared. Your mouth dropped, jerking your head around to see if anyone just saw what you did. How in the hell did that just happen? 

The mirror had a rippling water effect before coming to an end, turning back into its regular form. You were flabbergasted, and what made it worse was Wooyoung poking his head back through, the mirror rippling again around his head. 

“Are you coming, my sweet darling?”

Pushing his hand through the mirror, he reached for yours, his fingers twitching for your hands to connect. Hesitantly, you stepped forward, placing your sweaty palm into his before he dragged you through. Your body melted through the mirror like butter, the murmuring of the store sounding faint as you passed through. 

The air around you was humid; thick, gray clouds surrounded you and waves crashed underneath you as Wooyoung pulled you from your reality to his. Your eyes slowly glanced down, the stone bridge you walked across hauled you across the deadly ocean underneath. Gripping Wooyoung’s hand tighter, you followed him across the bridge and through another mirror that was significantly smaller than the one you just walked through. Through the reflection, you could see a checkered floor and marble walls. 

“Come, my sweet darling, lets get you out of here,” 

Wooyoung’s voice sounded so far as if he was miles away. He squatted, jumping down into the mirror before reaching out to you. A wave of nausea hit you as the roaring ocean underneath you started swaying the bridge. Breathing slowly, you mimicked Wooyoung’s movements and squatted down before dipping into the mirror. 

Warmth cascaded over your body, and another wave of nausea hit as you sank down to the floor. You rubbed your eyes, slowly swaying as if you were still stuck on the bridge. Your ears felt muffled, but all you could hear were faint voices as you tried to recollect yourself. 

“Give her some space, you two! She’s never traveled through the looking glass—stop!”

“Hello!”

You jumped at the deep voice that boomed in front of you. Prying your eyes open, you came face-to-face with two guys dressed identically in black and white striped t-shirts with red dress pants that hugged their thighs tightly. Red berets sat on top of their head, black wisps falling over their eyebrows: identical down to the shoes, the only thing not identical were their faces. 

“Who’re you?” You rasped, pushing yourself off the ground, wiping your butt from any dust. 

“I’m Seonghwa,”

“And I’m Yeosang!”

Even the pitches of their voices were similar. You cocked your head to the side, your eyes falling on Wooyoung who only looked at the pair with adorning eyes. Speaking of adoring eyes, Wooyoung’s fell onto you, his eyes drifting across your body. You followed his gaze, a quiet gasp passing through your lips as you glanced down at the pale blue dress that adorned your body. You weren’t wearing this when you were in your reality. You still had on your leggings and hoodie that you quickly threw on to get Wooyoung away from the questioning gazes of San and Mingi. 

“Don’t mind them,” Wooyoung said calmly, “They’re brothers, quite inseparable.” 

“Does she talk?” Seonghwa chirped, his gaze fixated on your lips, waiting for something to come spilling out of them. 

“Of course she talks!” Wooyoung boomed coming to stand beside you, “Don’t you, my darling?” 

“Y-yes,” You answered quietly, excitement flashing on the boys face at your quiet answer. 

“Don’t overwhelm her, you guys,” Wooyoung hummed, “She still has to meet the White Prince!” 

All three giggled before dragging you down the hall. You glanced back at the mirror you just walked through, the roaring sea rocking back and forth, San’s shop illuminating in the distance. Your mind swarmed with questions that surely the Hatter knew the answers to. Right as you began to ask, Yeosang broke out with a loud giggle. 

“The White Prince is a very nice man,”

“Very nice indeed,” Seonghwa chipped in.

“Nicest prince you’ll ever meet!” 

You were taken aback by the way they spoke. They bounced off of each other, one repeating what the other said in some shape or form. It was…odd, but your life has been off for the last 12 hours. Your questions slowly faded away, your mind now set on scoping out the walls around you. They were adorned with pictures, moving pictures at that, and vines twisted around the columns that were spaciously divided to cut into the yard. 

A warm breeze flowed through the halls, constant chatter going between Wooyoung and the brothers, your mind drifting off again. Did San know about the mirror in the back of the store? If he did, did he touch it? Did his fingers cause a ripple throughout the glass? Fuck, what in the actual hell were you doing here? 

Rounding a corner, Wooyoung took you into a throne room, guards stood along the stretch to the white throne, and a young male with bleach-blonde hair sat lazily, his leg thrown over the arm of the chair. Another tall male stood beside him, adorned in armor and another stood beside him, his hands tucked behind his back. 

“The one in armor,” Wooyoung began as if he knew your mind was reeling with questions, “That is Yunho, the White Prince’s top warrior. The one to his left, is Jongho, his trusted advisor.” Wooyoung gave you a cheshire grin, his eyes falling back onto the prince who seemed delighted to see everyone. 

“White Prince,” Seonghwa and Yeosang shouted together, “We’ve brought you a gift!”

The boys stepped aside, you and the Hatter stood there hand in hand, the princes gaze falling on to you. He quirked his eyebrow, his gaze darkening at the sight of you. 

“Hatter,” His deep voice rumbled, “Did you exit through the looking glass again?”

“Yes-“

“What have I said about that?” 

The air was thick with tension, your heart thumping against your chest as Wooyoung’s hand tightened around yours. He went to speak again, but the prince continued, venom spitting from his lips. 

“I’ve told you time and time again not to go through the looking glass! You know the dangers in the other realm that can harm the Underworld. What made you go back this time I wonder?” His darkened gaze fell on you, a small smirk slowly growing, “For your sweet darling, I presume?”

Did Wooyoung call you this to everyone? Did everyone know about you? 

“You know how hard I’ve been trying to  reach her,” He whispered, his gaze falling to the floor, humiliation flashed across his face. 

The prince sighed, “I know, Wooyoung. Just this time, you can spend the night with her, in my castle, and say your goodbyes.” 

Wooyoung gave a curt nod, “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

You followed behind Wooyoung, a light breeze filtered through your hair as he walked you to a secluded part of the castle. It seemed that he knew his way around the prince’s home as if he had lived there forever, but the little windmill home back in the dark forest fit his vibe more than this castle's sparkling clean white walls. 

You two hardly spoke, Wooyoung trying to conjure up words, anything to express his feelings for you. Hope filled his longs at the possibility of you agreeing to stay with him in Underland. To live your days out together, happily, and surrounded by love and joy. However, Wooyoung knew the true answer, the one he is terribly dreading. Who could leave their life for a life down here? You didn’t know Underland like he did. Your home was up there with your friends, not down here with these strangers. He scoffed, his lips mumbling mantras as he tore his way through his thoughts. 

You, on the other hand, your mind was dazed and confused. You were back in Won-Underland, back in the grasp of Wooyoung’s world. Underland was beautiful, magic drifted through the air, and it was peaceful; however, no matter how peaceful, you still had questions that needed to be answered. 

Coming to a halt, Wooyoung leaned against the balcony, his eyes drifting off, listening to the crashing of a waterfall off in the distance. You stood beside him, your arms tucked behind your back as you studied his features. God, he was insanely beautiful. You were shocked at how calmly you were reacting to the last 12 hours of your life. Why weren’t you freaking out more? You’ve grown feelings for Wooyoung, wanting to be near him as much as possible. Yet, here you were, only allowed the night to spend the last hours you’ll ever get with Wooyoung. 

“I have questions,” You whispered, breaking the gentle silence that fell between you two. 

He looked over, a soft smile curling across his lips, “Ask away, my little dove,” 

The new nickname sent butterflies throughout your stomach, “Can anyone go through the looking glass?” 

“No, it doesn’t work that way,” He sighed, turning towards you, leaning his body against the ledge, “Someone has to possess that dreamlike wonder, that imagination to let yourself drift from reality to imagination.”

“Anyone can have that. Hell, a child has more imagination than I do.”

Wooyoung laughed at your sudden outburst, “True,” He mumbled, “But you, my little dove, you possess that childlike wonder, never letting your adulthood push away those imaginations, those what-ifs. That is why you’re able to drift in-between your reality and mine.” 

You slowly nodded, “So, San,”

“He doesn’t posses that childlike wonder,” He answered, “His mind cannot comprehend imagination and if these imaginations can become real.”

Your brain felt fuzzy, tight, and honestly felt like it was going to explode. You broke your gaze with the Hatter, staring down at the glistening lake below you. 

“So, after our hours are up, I’m not allowed to visit anymore?” Your question was soft, barely above a whisper as Wooyoung reached out, tucking your fallen hair behind your ear. 

“That is up to Hongjoong,” He whispered, “He controls who can come in and out of Underland.”

“Then how does he know about me?” 

“He became aware of me going through the looking glass before I started appearing in your dreams. Anytime someone goes in or out of the mirror, Hongjoong is notified. I escaped one evening, finding my way into San’s shop where I saw you two talking. Your beauty captivated me, my sweet dove, and I knew then that I had to make you mine.” His words were lustful, his gaze matching. “After that, I kept going back, learning more about you, what you did, where you went, your lifestyle—I learned it all. I eventually learned enough to where I could manipulate your dreams due to your childlike wonder. You were very easy to crack and I slowly corrupted your dreams to where I was able to bring you down to Underland.” 

You picked at your nails, taking in everything that Wooyoung just told you. In a way, it made you feel easy? How could your mind, your imagination, become so corrupted to where he could control your dreams from Underland? 

“That doesn’t-“

“Your desires, Y/N, your desires help me corrupt your dream.”

“My desires?” You raised an eyebrow, his mischievous eyes locked on to you.

He stepped closer, his fingers tracing your arm, “Your desire for love,” He whispered, leaning in, his breathing gently fanning your face. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, warmth flooding your lower region as he slowly walked around you. His fingers dragged up your arm, past your elbow, down to the center of your back to the other side of your arm. His lips pressed against your ear, goosebumps forming over your body. 

“Your desire to be fucked.” 

You jerked your head at the obscene comment, his nose inches away from yours. His eyes darkened once yours landed onto him, his teeth barely showing through his lips as they upturned.

“The sun is setting,” He whispered, “Shall I make this night the best night of your life?” 

Before you could answer, Wooyoung crashed his lips against yours. You hummed against the plushness, soft moans eliciting from him as you began kissing back. His hands roamed your body, taking home at the base of your spine, kneading at the skin. A soft moan lulled out, your fingers gliding through the raven black hair that sat at the nape of his neck. God you wanted him so badly. Wanted him to fill you up the way he did before. If this was the last time you’d ever see Wooyoung, you were going to make the best of it. 

He slowly pulled back, a string of saliva stretching between you two, “Lay down, my sweet dove,” Wooyoung gestured to the marble bench that was a few inches behind you two. 

Nodding, you lay you back against the cold marble, shivers running up your spine as Wooyoung slowly ran his hands up your legs to the base of your hips, lingering soft kisses on your skin as he made his way up. He took his sweet time with you, making sure to take in every inch of your body, knowing that this would be the last time. 

“You desire for reassurance,” He hummed against the inner part of your thigh, nipping at the sensitive skin.

You whimpered at the contact, gripping tightly on the pale blue dress that puddled at the base of your hips. Wooyoung peered up through his lashes, his eyes gazing over your face, taking in every little detail, making sure to remember your face for the rest of his living days in Underland. His fingers gripped your thighs, little shadows lingered in the divots where his fingers pressed down, the sun kissing your thigh at the right angle. Birds sang around you, the waterfall mimicking your own arousal, and your love, shining as bright as the setting sun for Wooyoung who continued to pepper kisses across your skin. 

“You desire for sweet touches,”

His breath fanned over your soaked core, your pussy clenched at the steady puffs of warm air. He tsked, his index finger tracing the hem of your underwear up and down, agonizingly slow as he watched as your breath hitched, your tits softly jiggling with each intake of air. He was going to miss this, miss you, miss the way your body reacted to him, and only him. 

Wooyoung placed a gently kiss on the wet patch on your underwear, groaning at the sweet taste that lingered on his lips. Without hesitation, Wooyoung pulled your underwear, trailing kisses down your thighs till your panties were completely off, tossed away, forgotten somewhere behind him. 

“You smell so lovely, my little dove,” He whispered. 

Humming in response, you gently lace your fingers back into his hair, gently grinding your hips up to get that sweet connection you’ve been waiting for, craving for. Wooyoung chuckled gently, placing another gentle kiss to the inside of your knee. 

“So impatient,” He hummed, “Want me to savor you?” 

“Yes, please,” You begged.

“Say my name,” He growled, slapping the side of your thigh, a sudden rush of dominance running over him. 

“Please, Wooyoung,” You begged, whimpering at the sudden softness of his palm rubbing over the tingling spot.  

“That’s my sweet girl,” He mused. 

Wasting no more time, Wooyoung quickly glanced at the sky before shoving his face between your folds. A loud squeal passed your lips, your toes curling at the feeling of Wooyoung lapping up your juices, licking a thick stripe up your wet cunt all the way to your swollen bud. Smirking at your squeal, Wooyoung slowly pressed his index finger into you, stroking your slick walls, a low hum vibrating through your chest at the feeling, 

Wooyoung’s chest soared at the sounds you were making. He was going to miss this, fuck was he going to miss the way you taste too. Sucking gently at your clit, Wooyoung’s eyes never left your face, watching as your face contoured to each suck from his lips. Moaning at the sight, he slowly entered another finger, knuckle deep in your wet pussy, pressing harshly against your sweet spot. 

“Fuck, Wooyoung,” You mewled, wrapping your legs around his shoulders, encompassing him closer to your sopping, wet core. 

“That’s it baby,” He mumbled against your clit, “Tell me how you feel,”

With the mixture of his sucking, the vibrations of his moans, and the scissoring and pressing of his fingers, your orgasm came to its peak, quick pants escaping your lips.

“I’m close,” you groaned, grinding your core against his face, his tongue sliding up and down with each thrust from your hips, his nose flicking your clit with each thrust as well. 

“Cum for me, little dove. All over my face so your scent will never leave,”

With his last word, you snapped, your orgasm crashing throughout you. You rocked your hips harder, Wooyoung lapping at the juices that flowed from within you. Soft moans escaped his lips as he tasted you, savoring every single drop. His heart ached, ached for what he was never going to get after tonight. 

Pulling back, Wooyoung took one last glance at the sun, the peak barely above the horizon. Turning his head back to you, Wooyoung noticed someone standing above. As you were coming down from your high, Wooyoung glanced up, his chest filling with anger at the sight. 

Hongjoong stood on the third level, leaning over the balcony smirking at the scene below him. It took everything in Wooyoung not to rip your dress down, cover you, cover his little dove from the man above. Noticing the possessive eyes, Hongjoong shook his head slowly before pulling his wrist up, taping down indicating that Wooyoung was running out of time with you. 

A low growl emitted from Wooyoung’s chest causing you to peak up. You furrowed your eyebrows, curious as to why his jaw was clenched and his eyes spaced out, his hands gripping your thigh harder and harder and harder—

“Wooyoung,” You whimpered prying his hands off your thighs, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head gently, Wooyoung sent you a quick smile before pushing himself off the ground, hovering over your body. Leaning down, he placed a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips, gently nudging his nose with yours. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, little dove. How does that sound?”

You nodded, a blush fanning across your cheeks at the crude but sweet sentence. Placing another quick kiss on your lips, Wooyoung stood up quickly, dropping his pants before pushing your thighs back, his hands gripping the back of your knees gently. Bracing your right leg on his shoulder, Wooyoung gripped his cock, stroking the veiny, throbbing member before slowly coating himself in your essence. 

“You’re so wet for me… Fuck, I’m going to miss this pussy,” 

Before you could retaliate, Wooyoung rammed himself in, his tip smashing into your cervix, a loud moan escaping your lips at the sudden intrusion. Soft pants were shared between you both, his right hand rubbing your side softly, squeezing your hips before pulling out, and slamming himself back in.

“Please, Wooyoung,” You whimpered, rocking your hips against his. 

It was taking everything in Wooyoung not to fuck you silly, but he wanted your last time to be sweet, romantic, but fuck, the way your pussy sucked him in and surrounded him made him feel animalistic. He ground his teeth, the sound making him quirk his head before he started his fast pace. Fuck he couldn’t help it, he had to fuck you, it was getting darker and darker, your face fading into the night. He wanted to see your face while you cummed around his cock before you were covered in complete blackness. 

He slammed repeatedly into your sweet spot, your mouth making an ‘o’ shape, soft moans passing your lips at each hit. Wooyoung clenched his jaw, his eyes falling onto your breast, watching as they bounced with each thrust, your nipples threatening to slip out of the dress. A low growl rolled throughout his chest, his mind filled with being with you for eternity. 

“Cum for me, pretty dove,” He growled through clenched teeth, leaving a sloppy kiss against the inside of your knee.  “Let me see how pretty you look cumming around my cock,”

You whimpered at his filthy talk, your pussy clenching around his dick causing a long moan to slip past him. 

“That’s it,” He snarled, snapping his hips faster, “Cum baby, please,” He whimpered.

Opening your eyes you made contact with Wooyoung who was already watching you, his fucked out state causing your pussy to clench again. God was he beautiful. His lips hung open, slick with spit, Wooyoung shot you a sweet smile before leaning down, bringing you into a deep, passionate kiss. 

You pulled back, breathing heavily as you cupped his face, looking at you through half-closed eyes, Wooyoung was about to cum. You were ethereal, your skin glowing with sweat, your breasts jiggling with every thrust, and here you were, cupping his face with your soft hands, stroking his cheeks softly with your thumbs. Taking his right hand from your side, Wooyoung snaked it between you two, pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit, giving quick circles around the swollen bud. 

You tossed your head back, breaking the intense stare between you two. Wooyoung took this chance to leave wet, sloppy kisses against your chest, making his way up to your neck. 

“Cum, little dove,”

With one more swipe, you crashed around his throbbing cock, his hips jutting with the sudden intense clench of your pussy. He pulled back, dropping his hands to your hips before ramming into you, his pace becoming sloppy. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” He whimpered, “Fuck, fuck,  fuck!” 

He growled, burying himself to the hilt, coating your insides with his seed. You laid there, chest heaving up and down, coming down from your own high. Wooyoung panted, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your hip as he came down from his. Sweat dripped from his forehead down onto your stomach, the only noise from you two were soft pants. 

"That was amazing,” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. 

You hummed in agreement, lying there still recovering. Wooyoung glanced up, Hongjoong holding up a pocket watch, the silver circle swinging back and forth, shining in the new moonlight. Dropping his head, Wooyoung took one more glance at your half-naked body before pulling out, the sudden emptiness causing you to whimper. 

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up,” 

Wooyoung sat you up, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. Sighing, you stood up, tugging your dress down, leaning your body into Wooyoung as he walked you back from where you came. The walls were quiet, the moonlight illuminating the walls, making the castle feel like a fever dream. Wooyoung whispered sweet nothings into your ear as you headed back to the throne room, Hongjoong already sitting at the throne, Yunho and Jongho standing by his side. 

“Ah,” He smirked, “I assume you lovebirds had fun?” 

Wooyoung growled, “Wouldn’t you know,” 

A low chuckle vibrated off the empty room. Hongjoong stood up, walking down the few steps in front of his throne before stopping in front of you two. You stared at him, sleep waiting to take over your body. He gave you one lookover before leaning over to Wooyoung’s ear opposite of you. 

“You know the ritual, it’s time.” 

Pulling back, Hongjoong patted Wooyoung on the shoulder before bowing down to you. Walking away, Wooyoung turned you two around, your heart thumping, knowing what’s coming next. His thumb slowly stroked your side, the walk silent to the mirror that hung in the dimly lit room. His heart was racing, his mouth going dry, but he knew he had to make these last few minutes count. 

“Little dove,” He hummed, coming to a halt in front of the mirror,  “I enjoyed our evening together.” 

You smiled, “I enjoyed it as well,” You slowly turned your head, glancing at the mirror, the ocean still roaring below the bridge. “Do I have to leave?” You whispered, looking back at him. 

He winced, “Unfortunately, my sweet darling” 

Tears were threatening to leave your eyes. Noticing this, Wooyoung brought you into a hug, his ear placed perfectly against your ear.

He whispered, “In the garden of memories, the garden of dreams, the garden of reality, that is where you and I will meet once again.” 

Before you could respond, Wooyoung gently shoved you through the mirror. You skidded across the bridge, scrambling to get back to the mirror but it disappeared. Your screamed, the pitch disappearing against the loud crashing of the waves. 

“Wooyoung!” 

You searched around frantically before black dots overcame your vision. You fell down, down down. A soft thump rumbled your body, your eyes fluttering open. White lights blinded your vision, two blurry figures stood beside you. 

“She’s awake!” One yelled, racing to the door. 

You groggily glanced around, your vision finally coming back. Mingi stood over you, his hand gently stroking the top of your head. You shot up in your bed, frantically looking around. 

“Wooyoung?!” You screamed, throwing your covers off. 

“San!” Mingi yelled, “She’s going mad, out of her head again!” 

Before you could escape the bed, a nurse came in, shooting some clear liquid into your IV, your eyes going heavy. 

“Wooyoung…” 

© yuyuyunnie, 2024.

[yanderedrabbles]

I love the additional notes that yandere boyfriend/husband does! Anymore facts that he does during marriage life, aside from building cabinets and stuff?! 👏🥰🥳

Yandere Boyfriend - Husband Duties

He's secretly a total house husband. He'll spend an ungodly amount of time just attacking the house with a feather duster because he knows how you hate your sinuses acting up. And he does most of the cooking - he's a health nut after all and he needs to make sure his family is getting all their nutrients. Besides, there's something so intimate about feeding his wife with his own labour.

He's the type to bring you breakfast in bed almost every Sunday and hand feed you each bite, his pupils blown out with lust when you look up at him in that half lidded way.

He fixes everything. Light bulb burnt out? You won't even realise it because he's that quick to grab a ladder. Taps need new washers? Done. Kids want their rooms a new colour? Done before the end of the week. You want to rearrange the furniture? Just sit pretty and point at where you want the stuff to go.

He's a light sleeper so he's almost always the first one up if the kids start crying. Once you walked in on him with the newborn, cooing and begging the kid not to wake his wife because you've had a hard enough day.

At first, it feels strange seeing such a big guy holding a tiny little bundle in his paws. But he's so tender that sometimes all you can do is lean against the doorway and watch him.

He isn't the best with homework but he's a master at school projects. Once, he built a three foot bridge that actually lifted up to let little toy boats through.

When he talks to the kids about you, it's almost always my wife instead of your mother. In his mind, you'll always be his before anyone else's. And he loves the way it sounds - wife, wifey, his better half, finally all his.

He loves to play with the kids, but especially if you join him. He'll swing you up over his shoulder and tease the kids that he's stealing you away, they've gotten enough mum time today. And he'll grin when they hammer at his legs and demand he give you back. It's good to see the kids have just as much of a possessive streak as he does.

Honestly, he's set such a high standard that your daughters find almost every guy they date falls horribly short. And your son? Oh, he has to be the one to initiate break ups because no one who dates him wants to let him go - not when he's such a perfect partner.

"Where's mom? My wife is very busy right now actually."

[angelltheninth]

Cursed Tea Party

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, love potion, aphrodisiac, orgasm control, yandere behavior, rough sex, love confession, overstimulation, being cockdrunk

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: I don't remember when I wrote this or why but I did. And here it is for you all. A bit more dark than usual.

There was something wrong with you. You could tell ever since you left the tea party. Actually before then. It was the reason you left, you couldn't stand being there anymore, with your head spinning, body getting so hot you had to take off your uniform jacket and loosen up your bowtie to make breathing easier. It didn't help. Maybe a cold shower would do, if not, maybe one of the toys you had hidden away in your closet.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright? I could escort you back if you're sick." Riddle was the first one to notice how bad you were looking. It was his party so naturally he wanted to keep an eye on all the attendees.

"No, no!" The moment his voice reached your ears the throbbing and heat became nearly too much to handle. You had an urge to push him down, kiss him, tell him about every sinful fantasy you've ever had and beg for him to be the to fulfill them. "I swear I'm alright, I think I may have caught something. But I can make it back on my own."

None of the boys seemed to happy about that. You promised you'd call one of them when you're in your room and let them know you're fine. That was an hour ago. How could you get so lost in the labyrinth? Riddle didn't change it, as far as you knew. Every turn seemed to lead nowhere. Left, right, going back, nothing worked. You were simply lost. Lost and so painfully horny.

"Oh my, are you still here?" When did Riddle get behind you? Was he here to help you? "I thought I sensed someone here. What's the matter? Are you lost?" He walked up to you with the grace of a ruler, his crown perfectly in place, staff twirled in his hand and a very amused smile on his lips. So fucking sexy. "You're making a puddle. Hm, perhaps I put in a little too much." He frowned for a moment but then shrugged it off, like it didn't seem like vital information.

"Too much? What do you-" He took your hand in his, his touch and lips so hot they hurt your skin. It was nothing compared to the vines and thorns that crept up behind you and bound you up against the labyrinth wall. "Riddle? What's going on? What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Unfortunately I can't do that, my sweet rose. What you consumed in your tea was a very powerful aphrodisiac. I should have considered the dosage more carefully. I'm sorry for putting you through that, but it's alright, I'm here to help you now. I'll make it all better." His little chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, and not the nice kind. Your mind was torn, run or ask him to help?

Help? He just admitted he was the reason this was happening! But he was also the one offering to help. No, he was the one in the wrong here!

While you had your inner turmoil you didn't notice him undoing his pants and starting to stroke his cock, "I took some too you see. You're not alone, you'll never be alone again with me around. I'll take care of you, I'll be the best boyfriend you've ever had." Another sinister laugh left his mouth, his eyes blown wide, the crown now slightly on its side, "I've been waiting for this." Riddle used the top of his staff to spread your legs and move your panties to the side. The cold ruby pressed against your aching clit, the sound that left your body a cross between a moan and a pained whine. "Hurts right? I'll make you better love, I'll make it all better."

His cock came as sweet relief to your empty pussy, "Riddle..." You could barely think about anything, everything felt like it was too much, but his cock... it was perfect and just what you needed.

"Did you just come?" Riddle looked so happy with himself, his hips barely moving while he waited for your pussy to stop fluttering around his length. "I just put it in. You must have been suffering without my cock."

"I didn't. I didn't come." It was shameful to admit otherwise. This wasn't what you wanted to happen, how you wanted it to happen. "Not like this." You turned your face from him but your mouth still moaned when he thrust into you, "Don't... please stop moving... it's too much for me." Riddle never listened to anyone, you weren't about to change the King's mind either.

"I love you, I love dearest. Don't you see? I love you so much. After I saw you on my first party I had to get close to you, but you always hung around everyone else. You wouldn't even sit next to me!" You heard him yell before, a lot in fact, this was a different tone, broken, desperate, "Please understand. Understand how much I love you, I'm helping you realize it. Please."

What should have sounded like the unhinged ramblings of a madman wormed their way into your heard, warped your mind, made you finally look at him.

"Finally. You're looking, you're looking at me! Look down here too! See how well your pussy takes my cock? It's greedy! It wants this! You want this! You want me as much as I want you! Don't you?! Don't you, my beautiful rose?!" The warmth at the pit of your stomach returned at full force, the loud, crazy sound of his voice and the look in his eyes, burning lust and devotion reflecting your flushed face with such clarity, as well as how clouded your mind had become.

"I do love you." Riddle's face lit up with glee, the words freeing you of doubt that you weren't sure why it was there in the first place. Riddle was helping you, who are you to refuse his help? "I love you." You chuckled, "I've loved you for so long." Another laugher, a little bit louder, "Riddle."

Your back arched as far as it was able, stars dancing in front of your eyes, pussy twitching around Riddle's hard cock. "You're so tight! I'll make this one better for you! I'll make your cunt feel so good, let me fill it up." Your constant stream of pleas was only broken when you felt it, his cock emptying inside your, ropes of it painting your sensitive inner walls.

When he leaned against you to catch his breath you'd noticed the tight pressure around your wrists release. Now you were free to hold him, and he was free to hold you, now that you were fully complaint.

"Let's take you back to my castle. After today I think we should start moving your things there. And maybe inform the Principle that you'll be doing online classes only. I don't want anyone else laying their eyes or hands on you." Riddle gathered you in his arms, your body fully limp against him, pussy still pulsing with need around his cock, "There, there. You'll get more, don't you worry." He pressed a kiss to your lips, sealing his promise. The two of you began your way back through the maze, Riddle's crown forgotten where you'd just been.

[deathbxnny]

Hi I just wanted to say I loved the arcane adhd headcannons u wrote, the viktor one made me cry bc I want to be seen like that sooo bad. Do u think u could do some more characters? No pressure tho ur an amazing writer

Arcane characters with an S/o who has ADHD. | Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko x Gn!Reader

(Previous part)

Aww, I'm so happy to hear that you enjoyed the last part, anon! I hope this is to your liking as well!<33

Content: Fluff, ADHD, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAITLYN

She noticed from the start that you were a little different from everyone else. Not that she necessarily cared much about it. You were still you after all, and your diagnosis is just a part of you she considers endearing.

With that said, Caitlyn always listens to your needs very closely and does everything in her power to help you out with them. She'll get you anything you ask for in hopes of making life easier for you. Whether it's medical help or just something to help with your fidgeting in general, you'll have it in no time with her.

Cait can, therefore, come off as kind of overbearing or overprotective at first. She wants you to lead a smooth and successful life, so she'll always be around to make any task doable for you. Procrastination does not exist when she's there, to say the least.

Her patience is an important part of your relationship that's practically invaluable. Your fidgety and unfocused nature took a moment for her to get used to, but she never makes a big deal out of it. Instead, she simply adapts to your needs and learns to cherish them as well.

》JINX

Probably the most understanding out of everyone, albeit in the most chaotic way possible. You two are a rather troubling duo, as she herself isn't in the best position to help you out properly. Her ideas are always outlandish yet somehow still work out in the end anyways, which is rather impressive.

You're both very fidgety, but she makes up for it with her hyper awareness. Procrastination is never a thing with her, considering how focused she always is on every project she has and so it becomes somewhat of a normal thing for you to simply work in the same space together, even if it's with just music playing in the background in-between you two.

She's the last person to ever treat you any differently for your diagnosis and doesn't ever let you feel bad for it either. You accept her, and she accepts you. Anyone that tries shaming you for it is as good as dead anyway.

You two learn how to take care of each other better than anyone else ever could. Jinx may not be able to help you out like a professional doctor could, but she'll do anything to help you out no matter what forever.

》EKKO

He doesn't entirely get it at first, mainly as he was always surrounded by people who were rather unique in their own way. But as always with anything, he still does his best to learn everything he needs to about your diagnosis and how he can help you with the resources he has. Which aren't many, but his creativity truly shines at times when it comes to you.

You're not treated any differently from everyone else, and he sure as hell doesn't allow anyone to do that either. You are normal, just with more needs that he tends to carefully. So whether it's your inability to focus well or stay still for a long time, he'll find a way to make things easier. He understands your procrastination and doesn't really push you to do things unless it's very important. But he'll work with you on any projects or missions you may have.

His patience is endless for you and his kindness even more so. He understands if you feel frustrated sometimes and tries his best to soothe you when your emotions are a little harder to process. He'll let you fidget and be yourself as much as you want to, never the type to stop you. You should be yourself around him, and he appreciates how vulnerable you are with that.

Ekko loves you no matter how hard things can get with your diagnosis. He takes every challenge on with ease and never judges you for it either.

[mononijikayu]

cure — ryomen sukuna.

"I’ll write you the best songs, little lamb. Even better than what I already gave you." he promised to you. His tone was softer than usual. "Songs so good they’ll make the stars jealous." “You are making quite big promises, don’t you think?” You tease him, giggling as you read over his newest piece. “This would make the stars jealous.” "Yeah, because they’re our songs." he’d say, his smirk softening as he handed you another crumpled page. "No one else gets to have something as good as this. Not even the stars. Only you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - alien stage au;

WARNING/S: dead dove do not eat, nsfw (not safe for work), alien invasion, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, dehumanization, hurt/comfort, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, trauma, pining, complicated relationship, emotional distress, grief, canon related violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, social isolation, depiction of character death, depiction of dehumanization, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of emotional and physical abuse, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of dehumanization;

WORD COUNT: 16k words

NOTE: this was supposed to be posted much earlier but my glasses broke and i have to wear contact lenses, but its rough. my eyes hurt but i wanted to put this out there for yall. i need to get new frames for my glasses, so let's hope i can do that later or tomorrow!!! i adore alien stage and i was really stuck on stage 6, which is ivantill going at it. and so i wanted to write about it in a fic, but with sukuna. this is not an easy thing for people to read as alien stage explores a lot of dynamics, including dehumanization, trauma, violence and other things. so please be careful, i tagged what it containsfor a reason!!! in any case, i think you'll be able to read nanami's much easier. i hope you continue to look forward to it!!! anyway, i'll see you then. i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 2000;

if you want to, tip! <3

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YOU’VE ALWAYS WONDERED ABOUT STARS. Everything about them is a curiosity to you, a mystery waiting to be unraveled. The stars, once distant and unknowable, had always felt like something you could only admire from afar—faint whispers of a universe too vast to comprehend, scattered far beyond the grasp of your outstretched hand.

But then the aliens arrived, and the stars transformed. They were no longer untouchable pinpricks in the night sky; they became tangible, living, breathing beings.

And one of them, Starlight, became more than a friend, more than a visitor from the cosmos. They became yours. Not in the way one claims possession of something, but in the way their very presence seemed to stitch itself into the fabric of your existence.

Starlight was radiant, their shimmering, soft luminescence enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Their light didn’t burn; it soothed, warm and alive. They spoke not with words, but with a gentle hum that resonated deep in your chest, as though they were singing to the very rhythm of your heart. When they were near, the world felt softer, brighter. They were your everything, your universe, encapsulating all of your childish self. 

Their curiosity mirrored your own, eyes (or something like them) wide as they marveled at the simplest human things: the way you brewed tea, the way the rain danced against your window, the way you laughed when you thought no one was listening. And in return, you marveled at them. They were a marvel, a being from the stars. And yet somehow so achingly familiar to you.

Every moment you both shared felt like secrets whispered between galaxies.It was endless excitement, especially for you who was still growing into yourself.

They would lift a glowing hand to the sky, and the stars would twinkle in reply, as if winking just for you. And when the weight of life pressed too heavily on your shoulders, when you missed home — you were reminded that you were already home. Because you were with Starlight.

Starlight was unlike anyone you’d ever known. Their presence was a tapestry of light and sound, shifting and shimmering in ways that no human words could fully capture. They were, without a doubt, the kindest of all the aliens you’d encountered—something you hadn’t thought possible in your tumultuous travels across the stars.

They never looked down on you, never acted superior. They never raised their voice or lashed out, never gave you cause to cry or to feel small. No, Starlight was different. They listened, truly listened, and their responses carried a patience and understanding that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

And they had this way of making you smile, even when you thought the weight of the universe would crush you. It was as though their very essence carried an unspoken promise: You are not alone.

You weren’t sure when it started, but somehow, you began to notice that you made them smile too. Well, if "smile" was the right word for the way their luminous form would pulse and shimmer with vibrant, joyful hues. It wasn’t until the day you sang that you truly understood how much you’d touched them.

You had been sitting by the viewing port, staring out at the swirling nebulae, the colors dancing in the void. The melody had come to you unbidden, a quiet hum at first, then blooming into words you hadn’t sung since you were a child. Your voice filled the chamber, mingling with the hum of the ship's systems. It wasn’t a grand performance, just something small and raw. But it was enough.

When you turned, Starlight was there. They were looking at you, their form trembling with flickering pulses of color you’d never seen before. It was awe-striking to see for the first time, who they truly are.

Those vibrant deep ambers and rich violets that seemed to ripple like a heartbeat. Their light dimmed for a moment as though catching its breath. Then, their glow intensified, and you realized they were weeping.

Tears? Could they cry? You’d never thought to ask before.

“Starlight?” you asked hesitantly, standing. “Did I... do something wrong?”

They stepped—or rather, floated—closer, their luminescence washing over you in a gentle cascade. They shook their heads at you, almost too reassuringly. Their hand rested against your head and traced the strings of your hair with soothing echoes. 

“Wrong?” Their voices vibrated like chimes caught in a soft breeze. “No, little one. What you’ve done is beyond beautiful.”

You tilted your head, still unsure. “But... you’re crying?”

They seemed to shimmer with quiet laughter at your confusion. “Your voice.” they said, “it carries something special. It reminds me of home, of frequencies long since lost to my kind.”

“Lost?” you echoed, sitting back down. “How can sound be lost?”

“It’s not just sound, little one.” Starlight explained, their glow shifting into softer, warmer tones. “It’s emotion, memory. My people... we’ve forgotten how to feel them as you do. Your song brought them back, if only for a moment.”

You felt your cheeks flush red, unsure how to respond to such an overwhelming compliment. “I-I see. But I….I still did not want to….I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Their light brightened again, wrapping you in warmth. “Tears are not always sorrow, my dear little one. Sometimes they are the purest form of joy.”

For a while, you both sat in silence, the vastness of space your only witness. Then, tentatively, you asked, “Would you like to hear another song?”

Starlight’s form pulsed with an eager glow ethereally happy. “I would be honored.”

Over time, you grew fonder of that voice of yours. That voice of yours that harmonizes to what the other aliens called singing. What once felt like a mere habit became a passion, nurtured by the joy Starlight showed in your songs. Starlight delighted you in every way they could, bringing melodies from across the cosmos to inspire you. 

They filled your world with sounds and instruments. At times, they would bring you little boxes they often called on Earth as music boxes. You had to crank it up over and over to hear those little sounds hum its tune.

You don’t remember much about Earth at all, but those melodies were haunting refrains from distant moons, rhythmic pulses from pulsar dances. They were beautiful. At times you wondered, is this what Earth people like?

You were thankful for everything Starlight would do for you. In return, you wanted to delight them too. So, you tried your best all the time, to sing. You sang for Starlight’s guests—beings of every shape, size, and light. And with time, they too grew fond of your voice. 

Their praises were frequent, full of admiration. Their luminescent forms often shifted with excitement as they spoke about you after your performances. That’s when the whispers began from each and everyone of them when they came around. They tried to be quiet, but they were always loud enough to be heard. Not only by you, but ever so clearly, your Starlight.

“Bring your pet to the Alien Stage.” they’d say to Starlight, their voices rippling like waves. “Surely, they’d win the crowd over.”

The first time someone said it, you noticed the subtle change in Starlight’s glow—a flicker, almost imperceptible. Their eyes, usually brimming with warmth, grew wide with tension. They would shake their head in a proud, head-strong manner. 

“No.” they said simply, their tone firm, though the words hummed low, almost mournful. “I will not.”

But none of them were deterred by each refusal. If anything, that only made the urge stronger, with each and every time you sang in their presence. Each time the suggestion came up, however, Starlight’s refusal was the same, unwavering. Each time, it was a hard pressing refusal. Over and over again, it was — “No.”

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You didn’t even know what Alien Stage was. But as the guests chatted, your curiosity grew. You overheard them talking with excitement about the performances, the music, the awe-inspiring singers from every corner of the universe.

They’d list the names of their favorites, their voices buzzing with admiration. Some even mentioned their own “pets” performing there, beings like you, brought to the stage to dazzle the multitudes.

Your eyes widened at every detail. The way they spoke of it made the stage sound like a dream. This seemed like a place where voices transcended worlds, where songs could echo through the cosmos itself. 

You started to imagine yourself there, standing before an audience of countless beings, your voice reaching further than you ever thought possible. Maybe Starlight would be proud of you. Maybe they’d adore you even more if you proved your worth on that stage.

One day, your resolve solidified. You approached Starlight, your heart pounding with nervous excitement. “I want to sing for others. Not just for you, but for everyone. I want to sing on that stage. And make them as happy as I had made you!”

The moment the words left your lips, Starlight’s glow dimmed, their light trembling like a flickering flame caught in a draft. It was the first time you’d ever seen them falter. “You don’t understand what you’re asking, little one.” they murmured, their usually harmonious voice tinged with unease.

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer. “I want to share my voice with everyone too, Starlight. Isn’t that what music is for?”

Their glow wavered, their colors shifting to muted tones. “The Alien Stage... it’s not kind. It’s not about music, not truly. It's a spectacle. You are not a spectacle. You’re not a commodity, certainly not my pet, no matter how they insist so. I won’t let them turn you into something you are not.”

You blinked, taken aback. “But... the others, your friends—they said their pets perform there. They’re fine, aren’t they?”

Starlight’s light flared briefly, a rare burst of frustration. “Fine? Is that what they told you? Do you know what happens when the universe gets bored of a song? When will the novelty fades?” They quieted, their voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re my melody. My little one. I won’t let you be taken from me.”

Their words stung, but you couldn’t let go of the yearning in your heart. “My songs aren’t meant to stay here, Starlight. They’re like you—meant to travel, to touch others, to spark something in their hearts. Don’t you see? This is what I want.”

For a long moment, silence hung between you, heavy and unyielding. Then, finally, Starlight dimmed further, their light softening into a pale, reluctant glow. They looked distraught, nervous. They seemed to look close to tears.

“If this is truly what you desire, little one.” they said, their voice trembling. “Then I will take you somewhere to help you. But promise me, no matter what happens, you’ll remember that you’re more than a song. You’re more than what they might try to make of you.”

“I promise.” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

Starlight didn’t respond right away. Instead, they reached out, their light brushing against you in a gesture that felt both protective and sorrowful. You looked up to them, blinking in confusion. At this moment, you still never truly knew what these complex gazes meant. You were still a child, after all. 

“Then I will help prepare you for the stage.” they said at last. “But know this: the universe can be a cruel audience.”

You nodded at them. They can only pierce their lips in a tight line. “I’ll send you somewhere safe, where you can learn." they said, their glow dim but steady. "Anakt Garden. They’ll teach you, nurture you. But promise me this: don’t let them take your essence away."

Anakt Garden was unlike anything you’d ever imagined. It was an orbital sanctuary, a massive structure built to mimic nature but filled with the impossible beauty of alien design. The fields glowed faintly, shifting in color as the air pulsed with an almost musical hum. Trees stretched high, their leaves shimmering like glass, and the ground beneath your feet felt soft, warm, alive.

Other children were there. And you realized that they were humans like you. The pets they were talking about like you. You hadn’t expected that all humans were pets. You had only known what Starlight told you about the universe.

Still each human child in their own right was unique in their presence. Some carried the same nervous energy you felt; others radiated confidence. It was comforting, in a way, to see so many dreamers gathered in one place. All of them yearn to sing, as much as you do. That had made you smile for the first time, the first time since parting from Starlight.

And then there was Ryomen Sukuna.

The first time you saw him, he was sitting under one of the bizarre trees, his pink hair like a fuschia flame against the soft glow of the Garden. He seemed at least a bit older than you. But you found him to be a fair face. 

He had a presence that demanded attention, his sharp scarlet eyes daring anyone to look away. Where the other children were careful and obedient, Ryomen Sukuna was bold, loud, and entirely unapologetic. And with the way everyone spoke about him, he seemed to be a lone wolf. A persona non grata in a group of these jolly children.

Yet, when you first heard him sing, you were awestruck. You stood there, listening as though he was growing something in you. Like a flower that has been waiting to bloom. Everything in the air shifted when he sang like he was crying out for something to be heard.

Of course, His voice wasn’t polished or restrained; it was raw, powerful, and full of an unyielding intensity. It shook something loose inside you, something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back. You couldn’t help but gulp, you wanted to be just like him too. You wanted to be as good as him, blessed with such a wonder of a voice too.

Sukuna being good at singing had lit a fire in you, one you hadn’t fully realized was there until now. Watching him perform was like witnessing a storm in motion. It was wild, untamed, and utterly captivating. Everything about him would make anyone feel like the world should revolve around him. And you wanted that too. 

You wanted to capture that vibrance too. You wanted to be good. You wanted to make Starlight proud. You wanted to sing. Sing like you were the best in the world. It made you want to push yourself further, to become better, to chase the same freedom he seemed to command so effortlessly.

You started practicing harder than ever, retreating to one of the isolation cells to hone your voice. Day in and day out, you sang, the emptiness of the chamber amplifying your every note. Sometimes you sang until your throat was raw, until your limbs ache from exhaustion. You forgot to eat more often than you cared to admit, too focused on perfecting your craft.

And yet, despite all your effort, you knew you were holding back. It wasn’t hard to tell that you were. And that frustrated you to no end. It wasn’t that you couldn’t reach those soaring heights or push into the raw, emotional depths you heard in Sukuna’s voice. It was that you didn’t let yourself.

Of course, Ryomen Sukuna was quick to notice. 

With those sharp eyes of his, he always noticed.

“You’re good.” he said to you one day, his tone deceptively casual. 

He leaned against the doorway to the cell, arms crossed, his sharp scarlet gaze cutting through you like a blade.You couldn’t help but glance up from where you sat on the cold sterile floor, startled. You hadn’t heard him come in. 

“Thank you.” you muttered, unsure how to take the compliment.

“But you’re holding back.” he added, his voice laced with amusement as he stepped closer. His smirk was as infuriating as it was challenging. “Why?”

You hesitated, your heart sinking under the weight of Starlight’s words—the warnings, the fear in their trembling light. You wanted to sing, you wanted to be the best. But you had to be true to what your Starlight said. You had to.

“I don’t want to disappoint my guardian.” you admitted quietly. “They’re afraid I’ll lose myself if I go too far.”

Sukuna tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he was halfway to solving. Then he snorted, his grin widening into something both cocky and strangely reassuring. It was almost irritating. And yet, he had the right to be smug. He had it all figured out. All too well. 

“Lose yourself? You? Nah.” He crouched down to your level, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “If anything, you’re too afraid to find yourself.”

The words hit harder than you expected, leaving you speechless. Ryomen Sukuna laughs for a moment before he leaned in closer, his laughter dying down. It was soon replaced by a sly smirk softening into something that almost felt like encouragement.

“You’ve got fire in you, you know that?” he said, his voice low but insistent. “I can hear it in your voice, even when you try to hide it. You’re scared of what happens if you let it out, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped. He wasn’t wrong. Some of the people here are favorites of many aliens who had come to Starlight’s home as guests. And Sukuna was one of them. And some of them whispered here about what the contest was like. Even more, you were without Starlight. They won’t be coming back until the next visiting day. 

He was right, he seems to always be right. You were afraid, sometimes feeling that fear of the unknown. That lack of security. That echo of loneliness. Of course you were scared.. You were but a child. And you don’t know much about this world. 

“It’s not about them.” he continued, his tone firm now. “Not your guardian, not the stage, not anyone else. It’s about you. You wanted to join because you wanted to sing, right? Then do it for yourself.”

Your brows furrowed. “But I—”

“No ifs, no buts. You’ve got something special, something that deserves to be heard. And if you keep locking it away, you’re not just letting them down—you’re letting yourself down.”

His words lingered in the air, a challenge and a promise all at once.You swallowed hard, feeling a spark of something new—courage, maybe, or defiance. Is it all that, you wonder? Or is just a phantom of a feeling. You didn’t know, truly. But his words made you feel like a fire was burning inside of you. And even if you didn’t know what it was…..at least it was there, long enough to keep you from sorrows.

“And what if I let it out and it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, rare and disarming. “Then you keep going. You mess up, you fall, you sing again. That’s how you find your edge. That’s how you find you.”

He straightened up, his presence still larger than life even as he turned to leave. “Next time I hear you, lamb.” Sukuna called over his shoulder, causing you to blink as he called you a new name. “Don’t hold back. Let the fire burn.”

You sat there in the quiet for a long time after he left, his words echoing in your mind. Maybe Ryomen Sukuna was right. Maybe it was time to stop holding yourself back. Maybe it’s time to let that fire you feel be more than just a feeling. You took a deep breath, and looked at your music sheets again. It was time to practice once more.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU FIND THAT YOU DWELL IN THE SAME AXIS AS SUKUNA. Somehow, you and Sukuna understood each other better than most in the Garden. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about outright. Well, there was no place for that here, after all.

So, there were no flowery declarations of kinship or shared confessions under the stars. But it was there, an unspoken connection that threaded between your interactions, subtle yet undeniable.

At first glance, it didn’t make much sense at all. You couldn’t be more different. Sukuna, with his razor-sharp confidence and unapologetic boldness, seemed to command the space around him, every action deliberate and brimming with power. You, on the other hand, felt smaller, quieter, more uncertain of your place among the dazzling figures who roamed the Garden.

And yet, despite your differences or maybe because of them, you felt natural around each other. Conversations flowed without effort, even in their silences. He could sit beside you, offering no more than a teasing smirk or a dry comment, and you wouldn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with needless words. Somehow, it was enough just to share the same space, like two stars orbiting the same unseen gravity.

Perhaps it was the way you each carried something hidden beneath the surface, something you rarely shared with others. Sukuna, for all his bluster, carried a weight in his eyes, a history that lingered in the way he sometimes stared into the distance, his smirk slipping into something more thoughtful. You had your own burdens, your own doubts, ones you tried to shield behind polite smiles and quiet resolve.

It wasn’t that you talked about those things. At least not directly. But there were moments, fleeting and unguarded, where the weight of what you both carried seemed to align. In those moments, you’d catch him watching you, his gaze softer than usual, as though he saw through the walls you’d built. And you knew, somehow, that you could see through him too.

Even when your worlds didn’t overlap most of the time. When his passions and his sharp-edged confidence clashed with your quieter, more careful nature, there was still some well founded common ground in the simplicity of understanding. There was no judgment between you, no need to prove yourselves to one another.

Sukuna didn’t try to push you into his shadow, and you didn’t shrink from the light he cast. And perhaps, that’s what you liked the most about him. He didn’t change anything with how he treated you or how he interacted with you. He was just himself. And you were just who you were. 

For all the chaos and politics surrounding the Garden, where alliances shifted like the wind and friendships often felt transactional, what you had with Ryomen Sukuna was refreshingly uncomplicated. It wasn’t about competition or gaining favor. It was just... real.

And maybe that’s why, despite having little in common, you felt natural with him. You didn’t need to explain yourselves to each other. Somehow, you just knew.That was for the better, if you were truly saying it bluntly. 

The shimmering beauty of Anakt Garden couldn’t hide its truth: it was a terrifyingly stifling place. Every moment was monitored, every move scrutinized by the alien caretakers. Their intentions were kind, but their constant observation weighed heavy, leaving you feeling like a butterfly pinned under glass.

Ryomen Sukuna hated it. He wouldn’t even be here if his guardian wasn’t insistent on making use of him like a pet who made him a lot of money— of course, just as much to isolate him from the scandals and troubles he creates as a performer. 

You heard rumors about all of that, but you weren’t sure if they were true. You don’t want to cross a boundary with Sukuna, something he was unwilling to talk about as much as something he never truly decides to talk to you about. 

But it was obvious in all the other ways, you suppose. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened whenever the caretakers hovered too long, their cold, clinical voices reminding you to stay on schedule, to follow their precise instructions. He never said anything outright in their presence, but the tension in his body was impossible to miss. His hands would curl into loose fists, his eyes narrowing like he was fighting the urge to lash out. 

It wasn’t just their commands that grated on him—it was their entire approach. The way they treated you, and everyone else in the Garden, as projects, toys to play with rather than souls who deserve respect. 

To this part of the galaxy, human children were their tools to be honed, performances to be perfected. You didn’t need to ask how he felt about it; his disdain was evident in every clipped word and icy glare he threw their way and how much he does not care for their discipline and in the worst cases, punishment.

You worry about him, about his defiances. But you know he’s been through this before, and he was a veteran. Ryomen Sukuna has lived through the experience. You could see it in his eyes, how much he hated the Garden. And just as much, how much he hated how this is affecting you. He hated seeing you go through this too.

One evening, after a particularly grating session where the caretakers had spent far too long critiquing your pitch and posture, you found Sukuna waiting for you under one of the glowing trees in the Garden. The soft luminescence of the tree’s branches cast him in an almost ethereal light, though the storm cloud brewing in his expression was anything but serene.

He didn’t say anything at first as you approached slowly, just patted the ground beside him in an unspoken invitation. You sat, letting out a long sigh, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders.

“They don’t get it.” Sukuna muttered finally, breaking the silence. His voice was low, angry, but there was an edge of frustration that wasn’t entirely aimed at the caretakers. “They think they can mold us into their stupid little visions.”

You glanced at him, his face partially obscured by the shadows of the tree’s light. “Maybe that’s just how they think things work.” you said softly, even though you didn’t fully believe your own words. “They’re just trying to help us... be better.”

Sukuna snorted, his lip curling into a derisive smirk. “Help? Is that what you call it, little lamb? Barking orders, telling you to strip everything raw until there’s nothing left but their idea of ‘perfect’? Yeah, really helpful.”

You didn’t reply right away. There was truth in what he said, he knew it more than you. That was the truth of that. But the caretakers had a way of making you feel like you couldn’t question them, like they knew what was best. 

And even then, you were the one who wanted to be here in the first place. You had asked Starlight to let you be on that stage, happily so. You wanted to sing for the universe. For all the galaxies to see and hear. You chose your poison, your suffering. You had to make your bed and deal with it too.

Sukuna turned to you then, his sharp gaze piercing through your silence. “You’re already perfect, okay? Don’t listen to them, little lamb.” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “They just can’t see it.”

The words caught you off guard, scarlet warmth rising to your cheeks despite the weight in your chest. “I’m not... I mean, I’m trying to be better.” you stammered, looking away. “I want to be good enough.”

He leaned closer, his expression softening just a fraction. “Good enough for who? Them? You think their approval is worth breaking yourself over?”

You hesitated, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened again, but this time his anger felt different. You were good at reading his emotions by now. You had seen his eyes too much to not know what they felt. And when it comes to you, they shine with a protective glow almost all the time. 

“Listen to me, little lamb.” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not some tool for them to shape, alright? You’ve got something real, something no one else has. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

You met his gaze, unsure of how to respond. There was something raw in his expression, something that felt startlingly vulnerable. For all his bravado, Sukuna wasn’t just angry for the sake of it, he never was. You knew him too well for you not to know that. He genuinely cared.

“Thank you, ‘kuna.” you said quietly, the word feeling small but sincere.

He leaned back against the tree, his smirk returning, though it was softer this time. “Don’t thank me yet. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let them dim your light. You’re better than their rules, their schedules. You’re better than all of it.”

His words settled over you like a protective shield, bolstering you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. And as the glow of the tree cast shifting patterns across the ground, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. You want to start thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t need their version of perfection. Maybe you could find your own.

With each passing day, his company as much as his protectiveness became your anchor in the Garden’s isolating world. When the pressure of always being watched felt too heavy, Ryomen Sukuna was there to remind you that you weren’t alone. He had a way of drawing you out of your own thoughts, pulling you into his world where the rules didn’t seem to matter.

He started making you little gifts, sometimes when it was the get together activities. He was crude about it but you found that he does endearing work for delicate, endearing things by his own hand for you. He was good at it, with how he cobbled together from whatever he could find around the Garden.

Today, it was a bracelet made of woven grasses that glowed faintly in the dark. A carved fragment of one of the brazenly bright trees, etched with symbols and letters that only he could explain. You gasped as he showed it to you once he was finally done. 

"It’s a good luck charm, little lamb. It’s all written in a human language, from long ago. " he said to you tenderly, pressing a small, smooth stone into your hand. It was warm, as if it had been sitting in sunlight. "To keep you safe. You need it here."

But sometimes, it wasn’t just those he gave to you. Sukuna would sometimes write you songs, too. He was more advanced with that than you in his classes. It’s why he sometimes gets bored attending the classes. Sometimes he also teaches you, when there are things that confuse you about the lessons or if they are going too fast.

Sometimes it was hard to read through it all. His thoughts go by so fast that he ends up writing without thinking about it. You giggle sometimes when he hands you page after page to go through them. They were always good songs, of course they were. But his writing was always something that was ever so special about it all. 

But his handwriting was messy, scrawled on scraps of paper or even on his own arm when he ran out of space. He would get flustered about it sometimes, too. But you never chastised him for that. If anything, it was because he was born a genius of music. 

He was born to create melodies that could move anyone in this life—human or alien. His music wasn’t just sound; it was an experience, a force of nature. It’s why he was a favorite of so many who tuned into Alien Stage. 

His songs weren’t polished or rehearsed to the point of sterility. No, they were raw, defiant, and unapologetically alive. Every note, every lyric burned with fire, passion, and a kind of honesty that left no room for pretense.

And yet, for all their intensity, nothing could compare to the moments when he sang just for you. In those moments, the wild edges of his music softened. The defiance was still there, but it felt different. Everything about it was more tender, like an ember rather than a roaring flame. 

When he played his guitar, the ink on the page didn’t seem as smudged, the chords didn’t feel as jagged. It was as though the very essence of the music shifted, reshaping itself into something gentler, something just for you.

When he sang for you, it wasn’t about proving anything or conquering the stage. It wasn’t about anyone else. It was personal. It was for his little lamb. And his little lamb, who was the softest voice that tendered anyone’s soul, he was sure to want to do the same. He wanted to make your soul a little less heavier in this stifling place.

“You bring out the quiet in me, little lamb.” he admitted one night, his voice low and almost shy, a stark contrast to his usual boldness. 

The two of you sat together under the alien sky, its vibrant hues dancing like living brushstrokes across the horizon. His guitar rested idly on his lap, his fingers brushing absentmindedly over the strings.You tilted your head, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his tone. 

“You? Quiet? I don’t believe it, ‘kuna.” you teased, grinning as you nudged his shoulder.

He smirked, though there was an unmistakable softness in his expression. “Don’t get used to it, little lamb.” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into something halfway between a grin and a pout. “I’ve got a reputation to keep for all the galaxy, you know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, I’ll treasure it while it lasts, then. The great Sukuna, soft-spoken and sweet. Who would’ve thought?”

“Careful, now.” he warned, though there was no bite in his words. “Keep talking like that, and I might have to write a song about how annoying you are.”

You gasped in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over your chest. “Annoying? Me? I’m the one inspiring all this ‘quiet’. I’d like to correct you on that, thank you very much.”

“Fair point, little lamb.” he conceded, chuckling as he leaned back on his hands. He glanced at you then, his crimson eyes catching the light of the sky, and for a moment, he looked at peace. 

“I always make good points.” You giggled back at him.

“But don’t go thinking this is all for you.” he added, his voice playful but his gaze lingering on yours. “It’s just... easier when you’re around. The chaos doesn’t feel so loud.”

Your laughter softened, fading into a gentle smile. “Maybe it’s because you don’t have to be anything but yourself when you’re with me.”

He stilled, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he let out a quiet hum. “Yeah, I suppose.” he said finally, almost to himself. “Maybe that’s it.”

And as the vast expanse of the foreign sky shimmered above you, you couldn’t help but think that whatever quiet he found in your presence, it was mutual. Something about him, about these stolen moments, made the rest of the universe feel distant and unimportant. It was just you, him, and the melody he always seemed to carry.

For just a moment, the Garden didn’t feel so heavy tonight.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU WERE SURPRISED AT YOUR PROGRESS. Just as much, everyone else was too. The caretakers and the teachers began to notice the shift in you. It was impossible for them not to. Your voice had grown stronger, more confident, and your performances carried a depth they hadn’t seen before from you.

They praised you for your progress, their clinical smiles and approving nods a stark contrast to their usual detached demeanor. But their accolades rang hollow. They had no idea that their rigid schedules and suffocating structure weren’t the reason for your growth. It wasn’t their drills or corrections that had helped you blossom. All that work was done by Ryomen Sukuna.

When you felt like the weight of their expectations was too much to bear, Sukuna was the one who reminded you of the fire burning within you. When doubt crept into your mind, whispering that you’d never be good enough, it was Sukuna who sat with you under the glowing trees and told you to keep going.

“They can watch us all they want, little lamb.” Sukuna said to you, with a furrowed brow. 

But then he yawned, his head resting against the false bark. His fuschia hair caught the golden light filtering through the Garden’s strange sky. He was exhausted from the evaluations today, he was up longer than some of the other kids. So after all that, all he wanted to do was sleep.

He leaned against a twisted, luminous tree, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced by something fiercer, more protective. He wasn’t there for your evaluations, but with how the results came out — he had a right to reassure you. 

You had barely made the top ten of the class. And that terrified you. Being top ten meant that you wouldn’t suffer more remedial classes. You were already exhausted from practicing all month for the evaluations. You didn’t need a repeat of it again.

Sukuna did not believe in the ranking for the evaluations. If anything he hated it. He may have been at the first place mark now, but this doesn’t mean that it meant anything. It wasn’t any of the teachers who will give you points at the live shows. It would be the audience. What the audience wants is often not what the teachers like.

“They’ll never understand what you’re capable of.” He tells you brazenly. “And I’ll make sure they don’t break you. Don’t worry about that.”

You looked up at him, his words stirring something deep inside you. “You really think I can do it?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

His gaze softened, the fire in his crimson eyes still blazing but tempered with something gentler. “I don’t think so. I know.” he said firmly, stepping closer to you.

“I just….” You purse your lips into a small line, lowering your gaze.

“You’ve got more heart in your little finger than any of those caretakers have in their whole soulless existence. They’re just trying to shape you into what they think you should be. But you? You’re already enough. More than enough.”

You felt a lump in your throat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “It’s hard sometimes.” you admitted, your voice wavering. “To keep believing in myself when they’re always... pushing. Always watching.”

Sukuna crouched down in front of you, his expression unusually serious. “Then stop doing it for them, little lamb.” he said, his voice low but unwavering. “Do it for you. Never for them. They’ll never understand joy the way you do about singing. They’re just a bunch of pricks who want to make money. You’re amazing, okay? You got that? ”

His words struck a chord in you, and you nodded, a small smile breaking through your doubt. “Yeah.” you whispered.

“Good.” he said, straightening up and offering you a hand. “Because when we’re out of here, the whole universe is gonna know your name. And I’ll be right there with you, making sure they hear you loud and clear.”

The idea of a life beyond the Garden. That was something you’d barely dared to dream of, but now it seemed suddenly felt tangible. With Sukuna by your side, with Starlight on the other side of you.

Somehow, with him, the Garden’s walls didn’t seem so high or so suffocating. You started to dream again. You wanted to dream again. Not just of performing for others but of living, truly living, free from the caretakers’ rules and expectations.

“You really think we’ll get out of here?” you asked one evening, as you both sat under the alien sky. “And be together?”

Sukuna leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the shimmering lights above. “Of course we will,” he said confidently. “They can’t keep us here forever. And when we’re out, I’ll show you what real freedom looks like. No rules, no schedules, little lamb. It’ll be just us and the stars.”

You laughed softly, the sound carrying a mix of hope and longing. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It’s not a dream, little lamb.” he said, turning to look at you. “It’s a promise.”

And though the path ahead was uncertain, with obstacles and risks you couldn’t yet see, you knew one thing for sure: as long as Sukuna was with you, as long as his voice called you forward and his presence anchored you, you could face whatever came next. 

And so, life in Anakt Garden continued, the days blending together in a cycle of practice, observation, and fleeting moments of stolen freedom with Sukuna. The caretakers pushed you even harder, their teachings were continually becoming a relentless scrutiny that was even more suffocating than before.

They wanted perfection, polished and pristine, a voice that could embody the harmony they imagined humanity should be. After all, they wanted a good show. Perfection was the only way to make that good show happen. But you weren’t perfect by their standards. Neither was Sukuna, and you didn’t want to be — not anymore.

You just wanted to sing together with Sukuna forever.

"You ever notice how quiet it gets here at night?" Sukuna said one evening, lying beside you under the alien trees. The Garden's soft glow reflected in his sharp eyes, making them look like twin stars. "It’s too perfect. Like they’ve sucked all the realness out of this place."

You nodded, your chest heavy with the truth of his words. The Garden’s beauty often felt like a trap, a cage made of light and silence. Artificial as it may be, it at least provided some solace to you when the times were rough. 

"They think if it’s quiet enough, we’ll forget what it feels like to be loud." he continued, his voice tinged with frustration. "But you and me? We shouldn’t be so willing to be quiet, you know?"

Those words stayed with you. And from that moment on, you started to see more of why Ryomen Sukuna was what he was to the caretakers and the teachers. He wanted to live. He wanted to be free. And the only way to be free was defiance. And you slowly but surely, you also became one with him in that too.

He began sneaking out of his quarters late at night to find you. Together, you’d climb the shimmering trees or sit on the glowing grass, whispering plans for the future. He talked about stages that stretched across galaxies, places where no one would tell you how to sing, where your voices could echo freely into the stars.

"I’ll write you the best songs, little lamb. Even better than what I already gave you." he promised to you. His tone was softer than usual. "Songs so good they’ll make the stars jealous."

“You are making quite big promises, don’t you think?” You tease him, giggling as you read over his newest piece. “This would make the stars jealous.”

"Yeah, because they’re our songs." he’d say, his smirk softening as he handed you another crumpled page. "No one else gets to have something as good as this. Not even the stars. Only you.”

“Only me?” Your eyes brightened at his words.

He smiled back at you once more. “Only you.”

But as much as Sukuna comforted you, you could see the way the Garden wore on him, too. The more you get to know him, the more he tells you about his experiences here. They were of course not going into all the details. He doesn’t want to regale you with sorrow.

Yet all that he says were consistent with his previous experiences. And each and every time he came back, he just hated it even more. The constant surveillance, the endless demands, the lack of freedom. It was like watching a wildfire struggle to burn in a room with no air. And no one was getting out without getting burned.

"They’re never going to let us leave, are they?" you asked him another night, the weight of the question pressing down on you like a stone.

Sukuna turned to you, his gaze fierce. "Not on our terms if they have their way, no. But that doesn’t mean we won’t get out."

"What do you mean?" You furrowed your brows quizzically at him. “Sukuna, what do you mean by that?”

He grinned, the kind of grin that sent a thrill down your spine because it meant he had a plan. "I’m working on something. Just... trust me, yeah?"

And you did. You always trusted him.

How could you not trust him?

He was all you had in this wretched place.

In the meantime, Sukuna never let the Garden take your spirit. When you were too tired to sing, he’d hum quietly for you, his voice a low, comforting rumble. When you felt trapped, he’d find a way to make you laugh. 

Sometimes there was a sly joke here and there. Sometimes a sarcastic comment, or even an impromptu, over-the-top performance that earned him a scolding from the caretakers. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was that you smiled.

"You keep me sane, you know that?" you told him one night, the two of you leaning against each other beneath the alien sky.

"Good." he replied, his voice soft but steady. "Because you keep me grounded too."

You liked to think that when he smiled then, you realized you loved him.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THIS WAS NOT WHAT YOU HAD IMAGINED IT TO BE. You had not wanted this to happen, not ever. But it has. You willingly walked into this stage. But you didn't know any better. You didn't know.

Alien Stage was supposed to be your moment, the culmination of all the practice, dreams, and songs you had poured your soul into. And yet, this was not the truth. It never was.

As you stood in the staging area, waiting for your name to be called, your chest felt tight. No, you don’t think it was the nerves. No, it had to be something darker. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

You could see it in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes too. That pool of dread. That horror. He didn’t say anything outright, but his normally fiery demeanor had simmered into something quieter, sharper. As you waited, he stayed close, his presence grounding you in the chaos of the moment.

When your name echoed through the chamber, the sound bouncing off the crystalline walls like a bell tolling for the inevitable, Sukuna reached out without hesitation. His hand found your arm, his grip firm, almost desperate, as though letting go would send you spiraling into the unknown forever.

"Hey." he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. It lacked the usual bravado, the teasing edge you’d grown so used to. Instead, it carried something raw, something unguarded. "No matter what happens out there… sing. Don’t stop. Make sure you sing well. You have to win. Okay?"

His words were sharp and urgent, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. You nodded, but confusion flickered across your face. Ryomen Sukuna had never been this way with you before—so vulnerable, so unlike his usual self.

"Okay." you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered. "I will. I promise."

He didn’t let go, not right away. His grip loosened slightly, his thumb brushing your sleeve in a way that felt almost absentminded. You could feel your breath quiver at his touch, you looked at him for a moment, trying to take it all in. All of him in.

"Okay." he muttered, his eyes dropping for a brief moment before meeting yours again. "Sing as hard as you can. I’ll be here. Waiting for you. No matter what.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a cloak, warm and heavy. "Sukuna… why are you saying this now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk returned, but it was softer this time, tinged with something that looked suspiciously like worry. "Someone has to tell you that they’re waiting. I have to. So you’ll come back.”

You blinked, a small laugh escaping you despite the tension. “I’ll always come back. You know that.”

You could see his jaw tighten at your words. “Yeah. I know.”

The announcement once again rang out for the start, perhaps even louder this time, signaling your final call. He finally let go of your arm, his hand lingering just a second too long before he stepped back.

"Go, little lamb." he said, his voice firmer now. "Show them what you’ve got."

As you turned to walk toward the stage, the gravity of the moment hit you. His words, his touch, his uncharacteristic vulnerability. You know that they weren’t just about the performance. They were about you. About everything you’d worked for, everything you meant to him, even if he couldn’t quite say it outright.

You glanced back one last time and saw him standing there, arms crossed, his fiery red hair catching the strange, otherworldly light. His smirk had returned in full, but his eyes gave him away. No, there was hope there. And maybe, just maybe, a flicker of fear.

And as you stepped onto the stage, the lights blinding and the crowd’s anticipation palpable, you felt a strange sense of calm. You didn’t know why. But you could only look at it later as the calm before the storm that would change your life forever.

The space was nothing like the vibrant, celebratory arenas you’d imagined. It was stark and sterile, the kind of place that drained warmth from the air. The floor was smooth and reflective. You think that you could see your reflection if you look hard enough.

The audience or what passed for one was a collection of alien beings and floating orbs, their glowing forms pulsating with eerie rhythm. It was also broadcasting live all over the universe and even into the other galaxies. 

Across from you stood your opponent. He was about your age, his dark hair messy, his expression somewhere between fear and resignation. He looked at you like he wanted to say something, but the moment passed, and the caretakers began their cold instructions.

"The match begins now." one of them announced.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as the first note left your lips. The song you sang wasn’t what they’d wanted from you. It was the rigid, controlled melodies drilled into you during practice. Instead, you poured everything into the song, letting your voice carry the raw, unfiltered emotions you’d kept hidden. Fear, hope, defiance—it was all there, spilling out into the room.

Your opponent responded, his voice trembling but undeniably beautiful. It wasn’t a battle just yet, no. In that moment, it was a conversation between lovers, having a desperate exchange to bring back a love that was near the end of its lifetime.

You sang as hard as you could, as well as you could. And you didn’t stop. But soon enough, it ended just as fast as it began. The moment the last notes faded, the orbs above began to glow, casting their silent judgment. A brilliant light radiated from your side of the stage, signaling the tally of the votes to announce your victory.

For a heartbeat, you felt relief—until you saw your opponent’s face.

His eyes widened in terror as a column of light descended from above, surrounding him in an otherworldly glow of bright red neon lights. And then you heard the gunshots. You reached out instinctively, a scream tearing from your throat, but it was too late. The light consumed him. Soon enough, it was his blood pooling down the stage.

Just a moment ago, he was something.

And now, he lay there dead, nothing.

Nothing but a pile of blood and death.

You stumbled back, your legs giving out as you collapsed to the cold, unforgiving floor. Your hands trembled, clutching at nothing, your voice gone as the weight of what had just happened crushed you. Your eyes were trembling, you couldn’t look away from what once was a living being.

Someone had approached, their serene tone in sharp contrast to the horror you felt. "Congratulations to you." they said. "You have advanced to the next round."

The words barely registered. All you could think about was the boy’s face, his fear, his voice, now silenced forever. You wanted to scream, you wanted to shout. You wanted to tell them that an innocent young boy was killed for losing, and how horrid that is. There was nothing else you could do, as they ushered you away from the sweltering blood pouring down from the stage to the audience below.

When they led you off the stage, Sukuna was waiting. His scarlet eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, he didn’t need to ask what had happened. He already knew, you didn’t have to tell him. And yet just as much, the answer was written all over your face. You don’t want to talk about it.

"They killed him, didn’t they?" he asked, his voice low, trembling with restrained fury.

You nodded, the motion barely perceptible as your body shook. Sukuna’s hands balled into fists, his jaw tightening as he pulled you into a fierce embrace. Your tears started to flow against his shoulder as you rested your chin against it. 

"I should've told you to run away. I should have stopped you." he muttered, his voice cracking. "I should’ve gotten you out of here before—"

His words broke off, replaced by a heavy silence. For a long time, neither of you moved. You clung to him, your breaths shaky and uneven, his arms a shield against the unbearable truth that the stage wasn’t about music or talent or dreams. 

It was a death sentence.

This is what the aliens at Starlight’s home would be excited about. This is what they gush over their human pets, children— would be doing. They would sing and they would lose and they would die. For entertainment. And you hated it. The thought of it all made you want to hurl everything in your stomach.

"They never told us." you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. "They never said what this was."

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, his scarlet eyes blazing with anger. But then there was regret. And then guilt. And then anger once again, for himself. For his stupidity.

He didn’t tell you anything either. He should have. Why didn’t he? Why didn’t he tell you? He was complicit in robbing you of your innocence. He was complicit in your grief. And even soon, your loss of life.

"They never tell how it happens. Now it’s guns.”

"But... why?"

"Because they can," he said bitterly. "Because we’re just pieces in their game."

For the first time, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t have a plan, and didn't have an answer for how to fix this. He didn’t know what to do, now that you had been robbed of what made you who you were,  your humanity. Yet, all he had was you, and all you had was him.

But as you sat there, wrapped in his arms, something began to harden in you. The Aanakt Garden’s beauty, the caretakers’ promises, the Stage’s allure—it was all a lie. It will always be a lie.

It will always be a place where the cattle grows and gets ready for the slaughter. While the whole galaxy could watch. And now, you couldn’t unsee it. Now you can’t escape it. Neither could Sukuna.

"We’re getting out of here." he said finally, his voice steady but laced with steel. "I don’t care how, but we’re not staying in this hell."

And in that moment, you liked to think you believed him.

If anyone was going to get out, you think, it would be Sukuna.

And yet, that ugly feeling in your gut told you — no one escapes this.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE PLAN WAS AIRTIGHT, AT LEAST IT SEEMS LIKE IT. Or rather as close as it could be when desperation was your main driving force. There was some time before the next stage, where Sukuna was going to face another opponent. 

And so in that time, Ryomen Sukuna had spent weeks mapping out the routines of the caretakers and teachers, and the additional security and studying their movements and making an accurate layout of the Anakt Garden. He whispered the plan to you late at night under the glowing trees, his voice steady despite the fire in his scarlet eyes.

"We’re getting out of here, little lamb." he’d said. "I’m not letting them keep us locked up like this."

You trusted him completely. You always have. Sukuna had always been your anchor, your protector in this wretched place. He was your salvation, and he will continue to be. You will escape with him. And you will see Starlight again. And you would be free, together. That was the plan. 

But not all plans will go your way. No. Not at all. If anything, things will always go awry. Almost immediately, someone notices. And almost immediately, the meticulous plan that had been  compromised. The alarm rings from one hall to another. And you hadn’t noticed it yet.

As you ran through the dimly lit corridors of the facility, Ryomen Sukuna leading the way with his usual reckless confidence, alarms blared. The sound pierced through the still air, loud and jarring. Your heart pounded as alien drones descended downward, their glowing forms moving with terrifying precision.

"Go!" Sukuna shouted, his voice sharp with urgency as he shoved you ahead. "I’ll hold them off!"

"No! Sukuna!" you cried, grabbing his arm. "We do this together!"

But the drones were faster. Before you could react, one of them fired a net-like energy beam that wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides. Sukuna roared in rage, lunging at the drone, but another blast struck him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Run!" you screamed, but he didn’t listen. 

Ryomen Sukuna never listened when it came to you.

Almost immediately after that, they had dragged you both back. And the Garden was on a lockdown. It was evident with how the glow of their containment fields cast an eerie light over the corridors, along the fully locked halls and pathways. 

The cold, unyielding walls of the facility pressed in around you, each step back toward the Garden feeling heavier than the last. And you hated it. You absolutely hated it. But you hated even more that Ryomen Sukuna could not look you in the eye.

Sukuna was truly bitter about the failure.

Grievous because you were still here, trapped.

Mournful because both of you could have been free.

When you arrived, Ryomen Sukuna’s alien guardian was waiting. Starlight had always been stern, but Sukuna’s guardian was something else entirely. You were scared of them almost instantaneously. 

They were a towering, cold figure with a presence that seemed to sap the air from the room. Its form shimmered with an intense, otherworldly energy, and their piercing gaze locked onto Sukuna the moment he entered in his presence. Just as much as their fist locked against his human pet’s jaw.

"You reckless little fool." the alien hissed, its voice a low, vibrating hum that resonated in your chest. "Do you understand what you’ve done?"

Sukuna spat blood onto the floor, his red eyes blazing with defiance. "Yeah. I tried to leave. And I’d do it again."

The alien’s form seemed to darken, its glow pulsing angrily. "You endangered everything. Your place here, your future—her future!" It turned its piercing gaze on you, and you shrank back instinctively. “You got sent here to straighten yourself and now you punish someone else with you? What a wretched bastard you are, aren’t you?”

"Leave her out of this." Sukuna growled, stepping in front of you despite his injuries. "If you’ve got a problem, it’s with me."

The tension in the air was suffocating, heavy with unspoken threats and the sharp bite of inevitability. The alien stood before you both, its shimmering form radiating an icy menace that cut deeper than its words. Its gaze was fixed on Sukuna, unyielding and cold, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"I warned you," the alien said, its voice devoid of the warmth it had once feigned, now reduced to a blade of frigid authority. "Just like last time. This is not a place for rebellion. It is a place of purpose, a place of order. I sent you here for that purpose. Because you’re a wretched little fool who likes trouble. And still—still—you defy any sense."

Sukuna’s laugh was sharp, bitter, and defiant, like shards of glass scattering across the floor. "And what’s the consequence, huh?" he spat, stepping forward despite the guards already inching closer. His crimson eyes burned with a rage that even the alien seemed wary of. "You’ve already threatened to kill me before. You should just do it, goddamn it. Kill me already and free me from my misery."

The alien tilted its head, as if considering the words, and then its gaze shifted to you. The moment it did, the air seemed to chill further, and your stomach twisted into knots.

“Then I should kill the girl too.” it said, its tone as casual as discussing the weather.

“You will do no such thing, sir.” One of the caretakers speaks up, as Sukuna’s guardian looks to them. “You cannot touch the property of another.”

“Surely it doesn’t matter.” His alien speaks once again, looking at you. “I doubt this girl’s alien will have any trouble replacing her–”

“No!” The word tore from your throat before you could stop it, fear coursing through you like ice.

Sukuna’s reaction was instant, explosive to your fear. His eyes widened, but only for a heartbeat before narrowing with unrestrained fury. He lunged toward the alien, his movements wild, reckless. With an intent to kill.

"You bastard! I’ll tear you limb from limb if you ever DARE touch her!”

But the guards were ready. They seized him before he could even get close, their metallic hands clamping down on his arms with a force that made you wince. He struggled against them, snarling like a caged animal, his red hair wild and his expression murderous.

“Let me go!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You think you can threaten her? You think I’ll let you? I’ll kill you with my bare hands!"

“I’m telling you again, sir.” The alien caretaker says once more. “You cannot touch another alien’s property without them knowing. You are not their owner. You cannot punish them without their owner’s approval.”

The alien remained unfazed with what the caretaker said, its gaze shifting between you and Sukuna like a judge deliberating a sentence. They snicker at the caretaker’s words, narrowing his gaze to your frightful look. “Very well. Take my own to his sleeping cell.”

“I won’t let you! Not this time!” Sukuna screams like a wildman.

Sukuna struggles against the guards. He nearly gets away, but is quickly apprehended. He growls as he tries to attack them from the side, but they tackle him to the ground. You tried to approach him, but the caretaker pulled you away. Sukuna’s guardian lowers themselves to look at him, eye to eye.

“You will learn, you brat.” They said finally, its tone edged with finality. “Both of you will learn. Separately.”

The word hit you like a blow. 

Separately. 

“No, no.” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, you can’t—”

The alien ignored your protests, gesturing sharply to the guards. "I can do what I want. He is mine.” He looks at Sukuna again and snickers. “We shall have a good conversation, won’t we? Take him. Lock him where his fire can burn no one but himself."

"Sukuna!" you screamed as they dragged him away.

He fought against them with everything he had, his voice a feral growl. You too struggle against the caretaker, but no matter how much you both tried to pull from the gravity of separation, you tried to get closer. Yet it was for naught, as they managed to pull him away from your proximity. Your tears started to fall once more.

“I’ll find you!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours even as he was forced through the doorway. “Don’t give up! I’ll find you—I swear!”

And then he was gone.

His guardian follows behind him.

And you knew, you knew what he’ll endure.

You stood frozen, trembling, the caretaker alien’s presence looming over you like a shadow. Its gaze turned back to you, assessing. You looked to the ground, not wanting to show them the tears you were spilling for Sukuna.

“You should hope his words are hollow.” they said, its voice dripping with cold disdain. “Because hope will only destroy you.”

And with that, it turned and left, leaving you standing alone in the silence of the chamber. The absence of Sukuna’s fiery presence felt like a void threatening to swallow you whole. But even in the stillness, his last words echoed in your mind, a flicker of warmth against the growing cold. Don’t give up. I’ll find you.

And no matter what, you held on to that promise.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THEY WERE FORCING EVERYONE TO WATCH THE NEXT ROUND. But you knew that they were doing this especially for you. You knew they were. It was Sukuna’s performance on the stage that day.

And you could see how exhausted he was, how brutalized his soul was. At some points, purple shade was peaking through his costume. You knew what that meant. And that had made you weep. 

His performance had left the entire arena in a stunned silence. The lights above flickered dimly, casting long shadows that stretched across the cold, metallic floor. The haunting, heavy lyrics that poured from his lips didn’t just fill the air. Each and every word was him, each and every semblance of harmony belonged to him,

Everyone in that arena was consumed by it. Each and every note shifts the energy in the room, warping everything around him. His voice, raw and unrelenting, bled emotion. All his pain, sorrow, fury and in every word, there was a piece of him. A piece that he hadn’t shown anyone before. A piece of him that you knew and now were knowing even more.

You stood just out of sight, as caretakers wanted.You stayed hidden in the shadows just below the arena, watching as Sukuna let the song carry him. You could see the strain in his expression, the way his jaw clenched with each line.

It was as if he was born to be the song. It was as if the words themselves were a personal confession to all that were watching him The black sorrow he sang about wasn’t just an abstract emotion; it was something he had lived, something that clung to him like a second skin.

The first verse seemed to echo a truth he’d carried with him since the beginning of your time together. There was always a distance between him and everyone else. He had always been the outsider, the one who didn’t belong. 

And yet, in the quiet darkness of the stage, there was you—his closest companion, the person who understood the weight of his heart. The loneliness in his voice spoke volumes: he wanted to reach someone, but there was always a wall between them, and that wall was made of sorrow, isolation, and the crushing weight of expectations.

He had sung like this for you before, in the quiet moments when he thought no one else was listening. But now, he wasn’t singing for you—he was singing for everyone. He wanted them to know his misery. He wanted them to know how much they had taken from him. 

This wasn’t just him pouring out his heart to you, no. It was also for the aliens who were taking in his siren’s song. For the aliens who had taken him from his home, for the caretakers who controlled his fate, and for himself.

The chorus rang out like the final bell of a war that had no victor—only casualties. He held the mic stand closer to him. The imagery was powerful, as he tilted his head to belt out the note. Each connecting harmony was like a deep, endless sea that threatened to swallow everything in its path. 

In that moment, as the echoes of Sukuna’s voice faded into the suffocating silence of the chamber you were in. There was a realization that struck you like a lightning bolt to the chest. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just fighting the system, the Garden, or the alien overlords who sought to mold him into their image. 

He was fighting something deeper, something far more insidious: the darkness that had been festering in his soul for far longer than you’d known him. That defiance, that fire that burned so brightly in him, wasn’t just rebellion. 

No, it was a shield. A desperate attempt to hold back the weight of his own despair. And you hadn’t understood it then. Not fully. Not until now.

Memories of him flooded your mind: the way he laughed like it was armor, the way he played his guitar like it was the only thing holding him together, the way he smiled—wide, cocky, and so achingly fragile if you knew where to look. 

That was that smile, wasn’t it, Sukuna? you thought bitterly, tears slipping down your cheeks unchecked. A smile that didn’t just hide pain but dared it to come closer, to strike harder. You didn’t have to face it alone, but you did. Again and again. Because you thought you had to.

Your legs gave out, and you crumpled to the ground, hands clutching at the fabric of your sleeves as if the motion could ground you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, the ache in your chest suffocating. 

"You wanted to die." you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of the truth. "You wanted to be free, to let it all end."

And then the thought hit you like a second wave of agony, sharp and relentless. And I was there. I was there, and you couldn’t help it. 

The tears came harder now, your sobs wracking your frame as you clutched your knees to your chest. You felt guilt, beyond what you should. He too made his choices. He made his choice to live with you. Even if it was making him suffer. But that guilt, you want to free him too. 

You want to be free with him. And how, that might not even happen. Not in this life. Even if you don’t want to give up, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep this up. You wanted to be selfish with him too, to want him by your side for as long as you both lived. And yet, you don’t know what to do anymore as you listen to him sing more and more.

"You stayed." you choked out, the words meant for him even though he was no longer there to hear them. "You stayed… for me."

Your mind spun with the weight of it. Sukuna’s anger wasn’t just about rebellion or resistance. It was the fury of someone who had been forced to live a life they never asked for, over and over again, only to find a glimmer of something, or someone worth staying for. 

And that someone was you.

He chose you, only you.

In that moment, as the final notes faded into the silence, Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened, just a fraction. He wasn’t smiling, but there was something in his eyes that told you he had given everything on that stage. He always will. Even if he didn’t want to.

The votes quickly came in.

He turned to his opponent. 

And he watched, his eyes cold.

The red spilled on his face.

Ryomen Sukuna had won the round.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU STARED AT THE SCREEN. The days leading up to the next stage were filled with uncertainty, the tension thick in the air. Sukuna and you hadn’t spoken much since his performance, both of you retreating into your thoughts. 

The silence between you two was loaded, heavy with unspoken fears and doubts. Neither of you could shake the knowledge that things were escalating. The stakes were rising, and no one, not even Sukuna, could protect you from what was coming.

Then came the announcement.

The one that would change everything.

You were going to face each other.

This was the last few rounds. And these were the rounds where the most dangerous matches took place. A place where the brightest stars were either made or shattered, and where the strongest were left standing. The announcement echoed through the Garden, their cold voices coming over the loudspeakers, numbing you with their indifference. 

They didn’t care that you and Sukuna had a bond. Or that there was something more between you. They didn’t care about your shared past or your quiet moments of rebellion. Nor could they care about your wanting for freedom. None of that mattered to them.

To them, you were just pieces in a game, and now the pieces were being moved into position for the final battle. The moment you heard it, you froze. The words felt like ice, the truth of them setting in slowly, like a bitter poison coursing through your veins.

You and Sukuna were going to face each other.

You felt the world shift under your feet. Your body went numb as the weight of the situation began to sink in. But even in that moment of paralysis, you could hear the distant, familiar sound of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice—strong, fierce, and close. He was wearing a collar. That was something he had never worn before.

"Sukuna..." you whispered, your throat dry as you turned to face him. This was the first time you’ve seen him since you were parted. “I….”

He was standing near the edge of the arena, his posture rigid, his expression dark. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something far more serious. His eyes, usually sharp and calculated, were clouded with a deep, furious storm. He didn’t look like the same person who had stood on the stage with such confidence before.

Sukuna’s gaze locked onto you, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to read you, to understand the words he wasn’t yet hearing. But the words in your mind were loud and clear: you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to fight him. And you were pretty sure he didn’t want to fight you either.

"I won’t let you die." he growled, his voice low, but full of unrelenting anger. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw twitching. You could see the frustration building in him, the same frustration you felt, but much more visceral, raw. 

"This isn’t some damn game. They’re trying to use us, twist us up into something we’re not." His breath was ragged as he took a step toward you, his gaze never wavering. "We’re not toys. I won’t let them take you from me. I swear."

You could feel your chest tighten as you watched him, your mind swirling with confusion. You didn’t want to fight him. You didn’t want to be a part of this blood-soaked game. But what choice did you have? What else was there left to do but survive?

"I don’t want to do this." you whispered, the weight of the situation sinking into your bones.

Sukuna’s expression softened for just a split second before the fire returned, burning brighter than ever. He stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you both with deliberate steps, his eyes searching your face. 

"Then don’t." he said, his voice steady now, though it was strained with emotion. "Just let me do what I can, alright? Let me figure it out.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that there was a way out, a way to escape this nightmare together. But deep down, you knew how this deadly game worked. You had seen the carnage before. And it's doubtful this will be the last. Not even his promises are enough to calm you down.

You had watched as real people were broken one after the other. Crushed under the weight of this deadly game, this stupid game you didn’t want to play. And you knew that in the end, it’s not likely to end. They don’t want it to end. They want to see the blood spill, so they may applaud.

But still, the desperation in his voice pulled at you, pulling you closer to him. There felt a horrible sense of finality. A finality you never wanted. Not with him. You don’t want it to end. Not ever. Not when it comes to loving him. 

Ryomen Sukuna had always been your protector, your anchor. But now, the roles seemed reversed. He was the one who needed saving, and you were the only one who could save him from the thing that haunted him. 

But the price is your death. You had to die to save him. To keep him from suffering. And the knowledge that he couldn’t protect you from this isn’t going to save him either. He wouldn’t let this happen. He doesn’t want to, either.

"I can’t lose you." Sukuna muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but the pain in it was so raw that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I love you too much to let you go.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to ground him, to remind him that you were here, and you were still alive. But the terror in his eyes told you everything you needed to know: this wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about protecting each other from the very forces that had taken control of your lives.

“I love you too.” You whisper back to him, almost so brokenly. “I don’t want to let you go either. I don’t want to lose you.”

He shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening. "Not like this.We can’t lose each other like this.”

You tried to pull him closer, but the weight of the situation was too heavy. You could see it in his eyes—the guilt, the anger, the desperation. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being forced to fight him, to be torn apart in front of everyone. But what were your choices?

You both knew the truth. You could either submit to the rules and fight each other, or you could rebel against them, together. And if you did that, the price would be steep. Sukuna’s scarlet eyes softened, though the anger remained.

"Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked him softly. 

“For being the object of my affections.” He whispers to your ear, leaning forward to press a kiss on your cheek. “Thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions. My love and my hatred. All of it.”

You looked at him for a moment before smiling, eyes getting watery. You could feel the warmth of his kiss sear on your skin, like a burn from the flame. Like a moth burning in the candlelight. You wanted more of him. You wanted more of his love. And his hatred. You wanted it all.

But there will never be enough time. 

There will never be another time.

You cannot escape this time, not like this.

“Thank you for letting me have all of them.” You whisper back to him.

He returns your smile. “It was my pleasure.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

SOON ENOUGH, THE STAGE WAS PELTED BY THE POURING RAIN. And still, they will continue this, no matter what. It had to end here. There was no other way out. The harsh, mechanical buzz of the arena’s lights flickered above you, and the air was thick with the weight of the moment. 

You were back on the stage, but this time, everything had changed. Everyone had their cold eyes watching from every angle. Everything was properly set by now, to the perfection of their wants. All that was left was the stage to have two people, singing for a deadly performance. 

The stage was set, the tension palpable in the air as the crowd held its breath. Everything around you shimmered with the anticipation of what was about to unfold. The lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the space, and then, the music began to play.

A haunting melody rippled through the speakers, its ethereal sound sinking deep into your bones. The notes wove together like a sorrowful tale, threading through the very air that surrounded you. It filled the chamber, wrapping itself around you like an inescapable fog. 

You could feel it—the weight of the lyrics, heavy with longing and sorrow. You sang them as they were. They spoke of parting, of loss, of moments slipping through your fingers like sand. It was as though the song had been crafted specifically for this moment, for this fight, for the end of something you never wanted to end.

You had expected the chaos, the passion, the defiance that always accompanied Sukuna’s performances. But now, as the music surged, something shifted. Sukuna, his scarlet eyes locked on yours across the stage, suddenly stopped singing. 

The notes faltered in the air, the rhythm stuttering as he stood still. His lips no longer moved in time with the music. The sharp edge of his voice, so used to biting, so full of fire—was gone. The silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy.

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze never wavered from yours, but it wasn’t the usual sharp, cocky look. There was no defiance there. There was no challenge. There was no will to fight. Instead, there was only something far deeper, more painful. 

You had noticed it too late, how resigned he already was to this raw, aching realization that you both had reached the brink. The consequences of this moment, the weight of it all, had become far too real for him. You saw it in his scarlet eyes. That flicker of something that you knew was just for you. 

Something more human, more vulnerable, than you’d ever seen before. The walls he’d built around himself, the fire he had fought so hard to keep alive, all began to crumble, leaving him exposed in a way that made your heart ache. And then, against the cold droplets of rain that began to fall from the sky, Sukuna smiled.

It wasn’t the usual smug, arrogant grin you were so accustomed to. It was softer, almost bittersweet. It was the sort of smile that carried the weight of everything unspoken between you. That was a smile of adoration, that was a smile of hatred — that was the smile of devotion.

He stood there as you sang. It was as if the rain had washed away the last of his resistance, as if the music itself had torn down the walls that had held him together for so long.In that moment, you realized something. 

That smile—fragile as it was—wasn’t a mask. It wasn’t a challenge or a jest. It was surrender. Ryomen Sukuna had always been the one to defy the world, to push against everything that tried to contain him. But now, standing there in the midst of the storm, he was no longer fighting. He had accepted it all.

"I should’ve known." he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the rain. The words were barely more than a whisper, but they carried a depth of emotion that took you by surprise. "I should’ve known that... this was always going to be the end. For both of us."

You heard him and you almost forgot your part in the song. You longed to say something—to tell him that there was still time, that you could still fight, that you didn’t have to end this way. But the words died on your throat. You continued to sing.

Because the truth was, you could see it too. The end was already written in the stars.You knew it too, you knew it too well. The inevitable was crashing toward you both, and no matter how much you fought it, it was going to happen.

Sukuna’s smile wavered as he watched you continue to sing. And for a moment, the man you knew, that man you loved, the fiery, untamable force….He was gone. He had let him die at that moment. All that remained was a broken man, drenched in rain, standing at the edge of something he couldn’t escape.

The music swelled again, but this time, it wasn’t just about the performance. It was about you both, about the fragile connection that had formed in the midst of all the chaos. The music no longer felt like a fight—it felt like a goodbye.

To him, this only ends one way. 

If someone must survive, it has to be you.

He all but abandons his space, the rain pouring even heavier than ever. You were surprised as he pulled you close to him. Tears and raindrops all over your face. He was quick to know which were tears and which were the rain. He smiled. The music continued to play in the background.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for your face, brushing away a tear that had escaped. The song continued to swell deeper and deeper, and his turn to sing was upcoming. But Ryomen Sukuna’s lips were no longer part of it. He doesn’t want it to be. He wanted to die the way he wanted to.

His mouth pressed against yours in a kiss that was raw and desperate, a kiss that spoke of goodbye, of all the unspoken feelings between you both. A kiss that felt like a last act of defiance, a refusal to be another pawn in their game.

For a fleeting moment, everything else disappeared. The noise of the arena, the eyes of everyone watching this, the weight of the stage—all of it melted away as you kissed him back, pouring every ounce of emotion into that single act. 

Your kiss was hard and angry, angry at him for choosing this route. Hard because you wanted him to feel your pain, the pain that he was leaving you with as you continued on to live. You pulled him even closer. You part to breathe but you pull him back in even more. You continued on and on until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Soon enough the pelting of the guns started, there wasn’t even the neon red to warn you. They continued to shoot one after another. One to his shoulder, another to his back. But he kissed you back even more, his hands around your throat. As though to tell you his own pain in parting. More shots rang out, one after the other. 

As your lips parted, his expression hardened, scarlet eyes flashing with the finality of his decision. Blood pouring out his lips as he smiles at you, almost so hauntingly with his hands still wrapped around your throat with such eager tightness. 

"You have to live." he whispered, his voice rough, breaking. "You have to survive."

The bullets continued to tear through him, their cold, metallic scream louder than the music itself. His body jerked with each impact, his eyes wide with shock and pain as he staggered back, the warmth of the kiss he had given you still lingering on your lips, the taste of it bitter with the knowledge of what was coming. His rough, brutish hands slowly, and then finally off your reddening neck.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. Your long lost breath hitched in your throat as your entire world seemed to collapse in on itself. The music continued, relentless, as though mocking the pain in your chest. You wanted to scream, to stop them, but your voice was stolen by the sorrow that flooded your body.

Ryomen Sukuna crumpled to the ground, blood staining the stage beneath him, his chest rising and falling weakly, but his scarlet eyes never left yours. He wanted to look at you. He wanted you to keep looking at him. He was still there, still fighting, still telling you to live, even as life drained from him.

The music reached its climax, the voice of the singer rising in agony. Consume me, yes, me, oh, oh, the words rang out, but all you could feel was the sharp sting of your beloved’s corpse in front of you. The haunting notes continued as if nothing had changed, as if everything was still a game, but the truth was undeniable.

You cried out with everything in you, your desperate tears and the angry rain mixing with his blood on the stage, your heart breaking as you watched him slip away. Until he was finally gone. Until he was nothing but a bleeding flesh corpse in front of you. 

The music, now a distant, broken sound in your ears, felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest. Each note seemed to draw the last remnants of air from your lungs, suffocating you as you stood frozen on the stage. 

Ryomen Sukuna's blood continued to stain the floor and mix into the water ceaselessly, pooling beneath him, but his scarlet eyes... his eyes that you so loved were still on you, still filled with the fire of a promise, a plea.

His last breath was shallow, but his expression never wavered. Live, his eyes said. Survive.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear the entire world apart for what they had made of him, for the life they had stolen. But instead, you stood there, powerless. The caretakers' voices crackled through the speakers, indifferent to the tragedy they had orchestrated.

They had made you fight. They had made you kill. But Sukuna had chosen to fall for you. He had chosen to make sure you had the chance to escape the nightmare, even if it meant giving up his own life.

And the weight of that choice was too much to bear.

You were still there, staring at him, when they gave the signal. The arena, the very place where your blood had spilled—your tears mixed with the blood on the stage—was just another part of the system they controlled. 

Another place where they took away everything and gave nothing in return. The system that controlled your fate, controlled Sukuna's fate, was now turning its eyes to you. But in the midst of the flashing lights and the cold, sterile voices that told you to continue, that told you to perform, you made a decision. You weren't going to give them what they wanted. Not like this.

Your body trembled, but your heart, for the first time in so long, felt certain. You weren't just going to survive anymore. You weren’t going to let this system take everything from you, your life, your soul, your love for Sukuna, without fighting back.

You dropped to your knees beside him, the echo of his sacrifice reverberating through your chest. His body was still warm, still twitching with the last remnants of life, but you knew it was too late. He was gone.

But the part of him that lived. The part that had made sure you would survive. That was not lost. And that was something they couldn’t take. You didn’t care if they were watching. You didn’t care if they were observing your every move. 

You leaned over Sukuna’s body, placing a trembling hand over his heart, now still. And in that moment, something in you snapped, like a thread being pulled taut and finally breaking. The arena’s speakers crackled, and a voice you didn’t recognize spoke.

“Stage completion.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

The soft glow of the rising sun began to creep into the room, its warm fingers stretching across the floor, painting the walls with hues of gold and amber. The world outside was still, caught between the shadows of the night and the promise of a new day.

But here, in this quiet space, there was a peace that neither of you had ever known. The chaos of the alien stage, the endless battles, the pain, and the sacrifices—they all seemed distant, swallowed up by the serenity of the moment.

You lay there, your head resting on Sukuna’s legs, your body relaxed in the rare comfort of his presence. The rhythmic hum of your song, soft and almost hypnotic, filled the air.

It was a song that had become an anchor for both of you, a melody that whispered of things you had lost and things you still held dear. Your humming wrapped around him like a blanket, soothing the raw edges of his soul that had been scarred by too many years of violence.

Sukuna’s fingers, long and deft, traced the strands of your hair, moving slowly and deliberately, almost as though he were trying to carve this moment into his memory, like it was the only thing that made sense in a world that had long since turned upside down. His hand paused at the crown of your head, his fingers resting lightly as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile peace between you.

"You’re still humming, little lamb." Sukuna said.

You were surprised that his voice was unusually quiet, the words more of an observation than a question. His fingers toyed with the ends of your hair, curling a few strands around his finger and letting them slip through his grasp, as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. 

"You always sing when you’re... content."

You glanced up at him, your eyes still heavy with the warmth of sleep, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I always sing when I remember the good things." you whispered, your voice a soft murmur. "The things that make everything worth it."

Sukuna’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a brief glimpse of something that had always been there but was too buried beneath the armor he wore to ever show. His hand moved from your hair, trailing down the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. It was such a simple touch, but it carried with it more meaning than he had ever given to words.

"The good things?" His voice was low, almost hushed, as if he were afraid to disturb the peace between you. "What good things, huh?" He shifted slightly, his hand resting beside you now, his fingers grazing the surface of your skin.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his touch sink in, the quiet rhythm of your song keeping the silence comfortable. You let the words come, not thinking about them too much, just allowing them to spill from your heart.

"The times when we didn’t have to fight." you said softly, almost to yourself. "When everything was simpler. When it was just us... and the world felt like it was still ours to take."

Sukuna didn’t speak at first, his gaze far away as if he were lost in his own thoughts. His hand didn’t move from where it rested on the side of your face, his thumb now gently stroking your skin as if trying to memorize the sensation. There was a vulnerability in his touch that he rarely allowed anyone to see, but in this moment, with the soft light of dawn spilling over the both of you, it felt right.

"You really believe in that?" he asked after a long pause, his voice quieter than it had ever been. "You really think we could ever go back to something... simple?"

The question hung in the air between you two, heavy with the weight of the years you had spent in the fight for survival. But there was something in the way his hand lingered on your cheek, something in the way he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you that made you smile again.

"I think….." you began, your voice steady. "We make our own simple things in life. We can decide to live in the good things, even if the rest of the world is falling apart around us."

Sukuna’s gaze softened, his features easing for a moment as if your words had found something deep within him, something he hadn’t known he was missing. He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

"You’re right, I suppose." he said quietly, his hand slowly shifting to the side of your head again, fingers gently threading through your hair. "Maybe... maybe we don’t have to fight all the time. Maybe we don’t have to live in the dark. Not if we don’t want to."

His words hung in the air like a promise, tentative but real. The two of you stayed there in the quiet, the hum of your song filling the space around you like a soft lullaby. The sun was fully risen now, and the light poured through the window, bathing the room in warmth.

The world outside might have been a battlefield, a place where survival meant everything, where love and peace seemed impossible. But here, in this moment, with Sukuna’s fingers tangled in your hair and the world reduced to the two of you, it felt like anything was possible. You could make your own good things, even if it was just for a little while.

"Stay with me, forever, ‘kuna." you murmured, the words almost too soft to hear, but he heard them all the same. You tilted your head up slightly, looking into his eyes. "Please, stay."

Ryomen Sukuna looked down at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, he nodded, his voice steady. He lets out a small smile on his lips. A smile he always reserved warmly for you. Only you.

"I’m not going anywhere, little lamb." he said quietly. "Not if I don’t have to."

You smiled back at him. “Good.”

[gilbertscurls]

heyyy i love your writing a lot like obssesed but like i have a request where matt and nick talks about how they know from the beginning chris loved the reader even tho he used to deny it all the time

i hope you like it!! <3

obvious — chris sturniolo

Chris always rolled his eyes whenever Matt or Nick would bring it up. For years, they’d been relentless with their teasing, their sly smirks and knowing glances whenever you were around. Chris would always brush them off, claiming they were imagining things. But tonight, sitting on the worn couch in their living room, Matt and Nick weren’t letting it go.

“You’re telling me you never noticed?” Matt asked, leaning forward with a smirk that screamed mischief. “C’mon, Chris, you were so obvious. From day one.”

Chris scoffed, sinking deeper into the couch. “I wasn’t obvious. You guys just love stirring up drama that isn’t there.”

Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, it was there, alright. The way you used to act around her? It was like watching a middle schooler with his first crush. You could barely string a sentence together when she walked into the room.”

Chris crossed his arms defensively. “That’s just because I was caught off guard! She has... an intimidating presence, okay?”

“Intimidating,” Matt repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You mean gorgeous, smart, and the only person who could make you shut up for five seconds.”

Chris rolled his eyes again, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Nick grinned, sensing victory. “And let’s not forget all the little things you’d do. Like offering to drive her home, even when it was completely out of your way. Or how you’d ‘accidentally’ make too much food just so you could invite her over to eat.”

Chris groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys are ridiculous. I was just being nice.”

“Sure,” Matt said with a laugh. “And ‘being nice’ includes learning her favorite coffee order and bringing it to her every other morning?”

Chris opened his mouth to protest but found himself coming up short. Because deep down, he knew they were right.

Nick leaned back, his grin softening. “You might’ve been in denial, but we saw it clear as day. Even when you were pretending she was ‘just a friend,’ the way you looked at her said everything. You were gone for her, man.”

Chris fell silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. For years, he’d convinced himself that his feelings weren’t obvious. That he was being careful, keeping everything under wraps. But maybe he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought.

“She’s not just... anyone,” Chris finally admitted, his voice quiet. “She’s different. She makes me feel... I don’t know, like I want to be better. For her.”

Matt smiled knowingly. “We figured that out a long time ago, bro.”

“And we knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it out too,” Nick added.

Chris sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well... better late than never, right?”

Matt and Nick exchanged a look before Matt clapped Chris on the shoulder. “Exactly. Now go tell her, genius.”

Chris didn’t need to be told twice.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike

[httpiastri]

hope we all know that this isn't just any paul aron who we're gonna see as the f1 reserve next year…

it's the paul who's been in love with racing ever since he was a baby, who wanted to race just so he could grow up to be like his brother. the paul who travels around to support his brother or his team even when he's got a weekend off.

it's the paul who finished third in his first-ever season of formula 3, who was in the fight for the title up until the last round (and would've had a much better chance if not for the team's mistake in spa).

it's the paul who fit so well into the mercedes profile, who expressed his gratitude to the team and their work whenever he could, who fought so hard to make them proud.

it's the paul who was always going to be put behind kimi in toto wolff's eyes, no matter how well he performed.

it's the paul who had to leave everything he had grown up with, his team of many years, his close friends and staff members, and move on. who had to let go of everything he knew from before and go alone.

it's the paul who went into his first full formula 2 season with hopes and dreams instead of expectations; who said he was there to learn and grow, and then he would see where that would take him.

it's the paul who failed to get into the top ten in qualifying for the first round of the 2024 season, but still managed a p5 in the sprint – and a podium in the feature, despite a time penalty, and got to celebrate in parc ferme with his brother and trainer.

it's the paul who, as a rookie, went onto the podium every round in the first seven rounds. who's been consistent like few others in a series (and team) known for its inconsistency.

it's the paul who never forgets to credit and thank his family, team and trainer, acknowledging that every success is thanks to a team effort – and that even if things don't go as well as planned, the team still did their best to help him out.

it's the paul who thanks to his determination and hard work managed to impress his f2 team principal, oliver oakes, so much that the latter thought "i need this guy on my team" when he became the alpine f1 principal.

it's the paul who fights every setback with an attitude of revenge instead of hopelessness; despite everything he's been through, he never gives up. he wants to prove everyone wrong.

it's the paul who turns every heartbreak – from mechanical failures to tactical missteps – into fuel for his fire. it's the paul who reminds us that success isn't a straight line; success is the product of unwavering determination and the courage to keep going.

it's a paul who's learned so much, grown so much stronger; who's been through so many hardships and said "you know what? i'm going to learn from this and come out stronger on the other side", and that's exactly what he did. i'm so proud to have gotten to follow him on this journey, and i can't wait to see where this next chapter of his life will lead him.

our paul aron. 💙

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

I just love this fic! Jason is so sweet, and I wanna wrap him and the reader up in a warm blanket, give them tea, and kiss their foreheads. fr, OP, your work is stunning, and I'm devouring every line!! I talk about my favorite parts below the cut!

The quiet snores echoing in the air and the soothing rise and fall of his chest against your back would usually be enough to lull you into a gentle morning sleep. But usually you can breathe out of both sides of your nose.

Plsss, I was hooked immediately by this!! The relationship building in the first sentence and just how domestic it is has me clutching my heart! And then the next line actually had me giggling. We've all been there fr

You feel a sneeze coming on and try to stifle it, to keep it locked tight in your lungs so you won’t wake the love of your life from the rare bit of peace and quiet he gets. You make no noise, but the shaking of your body stirs him anyway. Damn vigilantes and their preternatural awareness. He hums lazily as he pulls you further into his chest.

ahhh, they're precious!! I know he's an unfairly light sleeper, and you couldn't get away with a thing.

“Then why do you sound like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets?”

WHEEZING!! He's gonna hit, and that's what happens when you mess around with someone when they're already sick 😤

You push yourself out of his arms and make it as far as the edge of the bed before he’s pulling you back to him again. “Aw, c’mon, ma. Don’t be mad. You are sick. Just admit it,” he says, voice kind as he runs his hand up and down your spine.

... he's forgiven, that's adorable, and I'm weak for pet names

He just squeezes you back, then manhandles your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He rises from your bed like you weigh nothing to him, hefting you into the air so that you’re better positioned.

Jason Todd carrying people supremacy. I'm swooning over here!

You can see it in the fact that everything he needed for this was already in your kitchen, in the fact that none of it was there when you fell asleep last night while he was on patrol. Jason cares. He cares from the tip of the stubborn curl that sticks up on the top of his head to the soles of his feet that guide you in a slow waltz around the kitchen.

AHH! THIS!!! Jason Todd and slow dancing in the kitchen is my WEAKNESS!! And he cares so much!! Yes, yes, and yes, this is sooo him! Actually, I'm going insane over this paragraph! Just, yes, I looove the line about the curl of his hair to the soles of his feet, it's just so picturesque. 10/10 has my whole attention. 💙

You nod your head that’s tucked against his chest, sniffling as you feel your nose start to run. Without missing a beat, Jason pulls a tissue from the pocket of his pajama pants and hands it to you.

The sigh I just let out was soooo dreamy

He goes rigid momentarily before he relaxes against you. Then a soft smile breaks out on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head, turning his face away from you. But you can be observant too. You don’t miss the way pink dusts his cheeks and, oh, he looks so pretty like this.

Jason Todd is a pretty boy and I will never keep quiet on that fact!!

Jason reads the new book he was telling you about as you listen to music, dozing in and out of consciousness. It’s not your fault he makes such a great pillow; his large body is warm and soft as he lies relaxed on your sofa. Every now and then, especially when he thinks you’ve fallen into a light sleep, he’ll place a featherlight kiss on the top of your head.

SWOONING! Cuddling with him on the couch is just chef's kiss

Carrying you out of bed, making you soup, letting you rest on him, the soft kisses and touches he flutters over your skin; it’s all his way of saying he loves you when the words themselves are simply too much or not enough.

ugh, yes! Sometimes words aren't enough to get the feelings across, but he shows them with every action and look, and I love him, your honor

And maybe it’s the homemade soup settled in your belly, or the afternoon sunlight shining through the window, or the warmth of the man you love beneath you, but you soon find yourself lulled into a peaceful sleep that feels just like home.

This is the sweetest, omg, I feel like I just ate my favorite candy. Seriously, OP, I'm eating up your work!! It's fantastic, and I'm enthralled! 💙💙

darling, won’t you take me home?

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: reader has a mild cold, but nothing much else (lmk if I missed anything)

a/n: this is just a lighthearted sick fic that got real prose-y at the end bc I was listening to my Jason playlist and got all in my feelings while drowsy off cold medicine. again, i give thee my wares.

divider credit: saradika-graphics

You wake to soft light filtering in through the white curtains of your bedroom and the warm weight of your lover’s arm across your waist. The quiet snores echoing in the air and the soothing rise and fall of his chest against your back would usually be enough to lull you into a gentle morning sleep. But usually you can breathe out of both sides of your nose. And you usually don’t feel like there’s sandpaper in your throat. And your body doesn’t usually feel this heavy.

Goddamn it–you’re sick.

You feel a sneeze coming on and try to stifle it, to keep it locked tight in your lungs so you won’t wake the love of your life from the rare bit of peace and quiet he gets. You make no noise, but the shaking of your body stirs him anyway. Damn vigilantes and their preternatural awareness. He hums lazily as he pulls you further into his chest. You think he might be able to doze back off and you’re glad for it. Then your hopes are dashed. One, two, three sneezes wrack your body in succession and you are finally forced to admit defeat.

“Are you sneezing?” Jason asks, groggy but inquiring.

“…no.”

You don’t even know why you tried to lie to him. You’re a bad liar in most cases, and an absolutely abysmal liar when it comes to Jason. He simply sighs and you’d bet twenty dollars that he’s rolling those pretty seafoam eyes of his. He easily turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him. Great, now you really won’t be able to lie to him.

“I told ya that you were gettin’ sick,” he scolds gently.

“‘M not sick!”

He did. And you are.

“Then why do you sound like the Swedish Chef from the Muppets?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He tries to keep his face serious, but soon the facade cracks and he lets out a deep belly laugh as you glare at him. You push yourself out of his arms and make it as far as the edge of the bed before he’s pulling you back to him again.

“Aw, c’mon, ma. Don’t be mad. You are sick. Just admit it,” he says, voice kind as he runs his hand up and down your spine.

“Okay. Fine. Whatever,” you mumble, your words trailing off unintelligibly.

Jason doesn’t miss it. He never does. Fucking vigilantes and their fine tuned hearing.

“What was that?” he smirks.

You whisper it again, quiet as a mouse. He shakes his head. You smack him in the chest.

“Ah ah, I wanna hear it,” he laughs.

“I said you were right! There! You happy now?” you pout, burying your head in his chest.

You can feel the giggles travel through his body and find it impossible to fight the smile it brings to your face, even if your head feels foggier than Gotham after a heavy rain. You squeeze him tight, a sudden aggressive love for him that you just need to let out. It does nothing to his strong frame. He just squeezes you back, then manhandles your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He rises from your bed like you weigh nothing to him, hefting you into the air so that you’re better positioned.

“C’mon, we’re makin’ soup.”

One thing about Jason Todd is that he’s an amazing cook. He didn’t cook much for himself before he met you. He’s told you he didn’t see any point when cheap takeout would fuel his body just fine for whatever fight was inevitably coming for him. But now he has both the reason and the time to care. And he cares. So much.

You can see it in the way he sets the chicken to bake while he tells you about the new book he got from the bookstore down the block. You can see it in the way his skilled hands, calloused and bruised, slice the carrots razor thin because he knows you hate the crunch of them. You can see it in the barely noticeable look of pride on his face as all the ingredients simmer in the big metal pot, giving your shared home a warm aroma of comfort. You can see it in the fact that everything he needed for this was already in your kitchen, in the fact that none of it was there when you fell asleep last night while he was on patrol. Jason cares. He cares from the tip of the stubborn curl that sticks up on the top of his head to the soles of his feet that guide you in a slow waltz around the kitchen.

“I know you probably aren’t too hungry, but I need you to try to eat at least one bowl for me,” he says in his gentlest negotiation voice as he puts a bowl of chicken noodle soup on the counter.

You nod your head that’s tucked against his chest, sniffling as you feel your nose start to run. Without missing a beat, Jason pulls a tissue from the pocket of his pajama pants and hands it to you.

“And you’re takin’ cold medicine the second you get some food in you.”

He’s not asking anymore, just stating facts.

“Gonna stay up all night watching me too?” you ask teasingly.

“I might,” he retorts.

“I love you too, Jay.”

He goes rigid momentarily before he relaxes against you. Then a soft smile breaks out on his face. He chuckles and shakes his head, turning his face away from you. But you can be observant too. You don’t miss the way pink dusts his cheeks and, oh, he looks so pretty like this. You tell him as much just to watch the soft pink turn to vibrant red.

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

One bowl of soup and a disgusting shot of cold medicine later, you find yourself wrapped in the arms of your lover as you both lounge on the couch. Jason reads the new book he was telling you about as you listen to music, dozing in and out of consciousness. It’s not your fault he makes such a great pillow; his large body is warm and soft as he lies relaxed on your sofa. Every now and then, especially when he thinks you’ve fallen into a light sleep, he’ll place a featherlight kiss on the top of your head.

You may not be a vigilante or The World’s Greatest Detective, but you can put all the pieces of the day together well enough. Carrying you out of bed, making you soup, letting you rest on him, the soft kisses and touches he flutters over your skin; it’s all his way of saying he loves you when the words themselves are simply too much or not enough. But the words are enough for you. You swear that you’ll go to your grave finding all the prettiest ways to tell him just how much you love him. Because you do.

And maybe it’s the homemade soup settled in your belly, or the afternoon sunlight shining through the window, or the warmth of the man you love beneath you, but you soon find yourself lulled into a peaceful sleep that feels just like home.

[morose-melodies]

the hunting knife | reader x yandere! childe

summary: you claim to hate childe... so why did you put your heart into making this hunting knife for him? (because you're a blacksmith duh)

content warning: ?? childe is delusional

note: I WROTE THIS SO LONG AGO idek if this is in character help

There was something... distracting about this hunting knife.

Ajax couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what it was. It was handmade, was that it? It was a parting gift also.

As he sharpened the knife, passing time on this godforsaken ship, his mind was fogged with thoughts. Thoughts of his time in Liyue, thoughts of this lovely hunting knife, and... thoughts of you.

... maybe that was it. Wherever he looked at the knife or held it, it was you that came to mind. Well, you were the first thing to come to mind anyway.

He loved this knife and took it everywhere with him. It was nice, you clearly put a lot of effort into making it for him... especially for someone who claimed to hate him and everything he stood for.

That wasn't true.

Ajax always felt an evil little smile come to his face at the thought of you hating him. That wasn't true, not even a little bit.

It couldn't be. You made this knife just for him and carved your initials on the side of it, into the wooden handle. If that isn't love, then what could love be?

Sure... you were a blacksmith but, this was different!

You had to feel something for him, you had to. (y/n), you had to feel something for him. right (y/n)? (y/n)...

"(y/n)..." Ajax breathed, that little smile still on his face as he ran his thumb across your initials carved into the smooth wooden handle. He liked you, a lot.

He liked your assertive personality, he liked how you'd look at him with hatred, the way you'd bump shoulder when passing him, the way you'd hit him when he tried to make a move on him- he liked everything about you, not to mention you were cute.

You were definitely what was special about this hunting knife.

Stepping off the finally stopped ship, Ajax had one destination in mind- your house. That was where he got his favorite hunting knife, this was also where he first fell in love.

And since falling in love, life has been sunshine and rainbows.

Upon making it to your house- sweet and modest, and away from civilization, he knocked on the front door. "(y/n)! Y'know how much i missed you?" He immediately welcomed himself in, hugging you hard. It felt so nice having you in his arms again.

... well, this was actually his first time having you in his arms, every other attempt at hugging you ended up with him having a bloodied nose.

So... having you in his arms for the first time felt nice. "I've been thinkin' bout you none stop too... it's been too long since I last saw you."

Of course, for a lack of better words, you were confused- but other than confused, you were annoyed. This annoying ginger was back... and you weren't happy.

Still squeezing you in his arms, Ajax nudged the door shut with his foot and rested his chin atop your head. He wasn't going to let you go anytime soon, "make me another weapon, will you? Gosh, I'd be so grateful..."

He didn't really care about the weapon, he just wanted to spend as much time with you as possible.

[d3vdgvrlll]

trauma ig

@gorelvr and anyone else who wanted it

i’ll start from the begining because it’s the one thing that will make my story similar to others. it will have a begining and an end just like anyone else’s. i have been sexually abused since i was seven years old. my cousin joe (obv not his real name i was in israel at the time) he was considerably older than me. 13, not too bad, but at the time it felt like a worlds difference. it didn’t start slowly, not at all, and pieces of it i don’t even remember. i do remember closets tho. it wasn’t just an rape either. he wanted me to like it- either that or he was just sadistic. he would make me smile and beg for it, make me please him as a lover, told me it was right since i was his blood. in fact, he would draw this blood quite often. he would pinch me, beat me, cut me, anything to make me cry, because he had a rule. if i cried, he could come back to use me again. he would do anything to draw out a mere sound of discomfort, anything, any excuse so that he could come into my room at night and violate me. he called me his wife. he called me his girl. and in my native tongue i had to tell him i loved him as well. when i was 9, after two years of this, with no one believing me (and if you ask how it’s possible, youve clearly never heard of arabic jewish culture-) i move to america. i lived in chicago, and suddenly, i was a normal girl. sure, i couldn’t speak english but i was clean. no longer dirty. i was far away from joe and i thought maybe id be far from the pain too. i was far from the bombs that rang in my ears as i walked home, the desolate shelters littered around playgrounds, the constant whisper of “you are never safe” far behind me. i was ahead of everyone else, and when i heard that another one of my childhood friends died of an attack, it didn’t feel better, but at least it wasn’t me. at least it wasn’t me.

this is where i met a friend named lucie. she was the first female friend id ever had. my wonderful grandma, who was like a second mother to me (at the time when she was alive my mother was still kind, the lines on her face less pronounced, her words filled with less poison) signed me up for swimming classes with lucie. after swimming class, me and lucie would shower together. it’s started off because i had conditioner that she needed for her blond hair, conditioner that i was willing to give up to her because she was so much whiter than me, so much purer. she then asked me for favors. to touch her. she’s press me against the wall and kiss me, and when i resisted, she wouldn’t even react. she asked me for more. she said “if you do it well this time, you won’t have to do it again.” and “kiss me for longer this time, you only did two seconds, you promised ten” and each request, no matter how hard it was for me to do, was done. and each time, there came another. no matter how much she promised it’d be the last one, there was always more. i couldn’t get away from it. i was trapped. i was scared, and i wanted her to be my friend. she taught me that if u don’t give people ur body, they won’t stay. she taught me that im worthless besides what i can offer to others. she taught me everything i know and live by, and then she left anyways .

seventh grade- i had a very nice science teacher. i was doing very well in his class. his name i really cannot say because he is still teaching at the school in illinois, and no one has believed me, no matter what i insist happened. we were doing a bridge project. i was failing, because my grandma was dying. she was dying, and she was my everything. watching her- it was the hardest thing i’d ever done. but i couldn’t avert my eyes because it felt sinful. it felt wrong to look away because it was hard to watch- she was my grandma after all, the one who raised me, loved me, showed me the good in the world. so i watched. i watched and stayed with her and read her books she couldn’t hear me reciting while she lay in her hospice bed barely breathing. i wrote down the stories she told me through her tubes, and i tried to imagine that the wires connected to her were flowers instead, that she was somewhere were her grimace was rlly a smile. she stayed alive until my birthday, my 12th birthday, because she didn’t want to ruin it. she stayed alive, in pain, riddled with so much terror, to see me turn 12. one day, i walked into her room and spoke to her, and watching her eyes try to open, her oxygen intake spike up, her stiff limbs try to reach me- it killed me. i love her and always will. it feels awful to group her with this awful man- my science teacher, but in this story they do go together, unlike in real life where my grandma was such a big and powerful woman she always stood alone. or with me. i digress, the man- let’s call him Mr.P- he failed me. i was excelling- frankly, because im very smart and quite good with physics and such, but he still failed me. (shortly after this whole ordeal i was neurologically tested and i have an IQ of 156). i walked into his class one day, and all i can remember is him smiling, saying that he would give me an oppurtunity for extra credit, but that it had to be secret- you can tell where this is going. i had already learned from lucie that nothing is good abt me besides my body, and so when he took mine, the second person to- i could just sit and cry. at least this man let me cry- at least this one didn’t kill my hair to get a reaction, with the promise of hurting me more the less i liked it. i don’t remember much besides my face being pressed against vents on the side of the classroom. i would “wake up” (ptsd) with blood between my thighs, and cuts on my face from the metal on the vents, because of how hard he shoved my face in them. he had a daughter- she was 6 at the time. when i graduated, he told me he’d do the same to her. that was the first time i cut myself. because i knew i couldn’t stop him. i knew that i couldn’t do anything. i knew that what lucid taught me was wrong. my body wasn’t even special- it wasn’t even “worth it”, it was just available.

i moved all over the US, living in austin, chicago, colorado, and florida for the longest times. chicago was my home though, and i know the city like the back of my hand. this is not something many people can say, but i survived being homeless in chicago during the polar vortex. for those who don’t know, the polar vortex is a phenomena that happens every year. winds from the arctic pass through canada and end up in the midwest, chilling the air to roughly -58 degrees F or lower. after my grandma died, my mother became mean. angry. she scared me. she hit me. it’s too much to get into and frankly, i live with her and my dad now and i feel odd talking abt it. it’s my current reality as well, but what i learned from them is that words mean nothing. so i wont spend them here. after a week of being homeless and running to and from school, living in an underpass, someone started walking “home” with me. his name was pat. this is the man i often reference in posts. he was my best friend, not at this time tho. we walked home together for weeks, not speaking a word to each other, until one day i caught an awful case of pneumonia, the second time id fallen ill with it in the month. this time, i couldn’t walk, stand, breathe, or talk. i was passed out when he found me, at least that’s what he told me. he said he carried me to his friends house and that’s were they saved me. his friends name was biscuit, and biscuit ended up being a huge drug dealer. he kept me in his attic- it had a hole in the roof but it was better than dying in the cold. i had already lost my left foot to frostbite- i still can’t feel it but i can walk on it now, which is better than before. in the attic, and idk much abt it because rlly the memory is so hazy- sometimes i wake up in a cold sweat bc im back there, and sometimes idk if im dreaming or if its real- but rlly truly i dont know for sure what happened. all i know is that biscuit used to bring his friends up there, while i was healing (they put tons of drugs in me idek what they used to help me get better but im pretty sure it was a combo of depressants and steroids)- they would pass me around. i just get hazes- visions sort of. i dont even remember. i remeber the feeling of their hands tho, and suddenly feeling a lot colder, feeling the wind on my bare skin. i remember waking up with wind rash and scabs from cigarette burns. i don’t remeber enough o accuse anyone of anything though, so i didn’t mention it to pat. in my head, he didn’t even know. i was wrong ofcourse- he knew. he always knew.

when we got better and went back to our respective homes, we stayed very close. we formed a trauma bond. codependcy. it was wonderful while it lasted, but soon, he started to fall for me. he never raped me, but he did other things. i don’t care to specify at the moment because i fear ive already gone into prolific detail about things i never wanted to think about again. truthfully, i love pat. i do. i hold no hatred towards him, and i really don’t like to talk about all the bad things he did to me, because he was my sweet boy. i never loved him like that- he was just my best friend, but when i speak about him people don’t seem to understand. he understood me, and it’s just. hard to talk about because there’s so much to say. i can’t write it all down in this small part of a bigger story because i have so much to say about him that i’d rather just give it out in pieces. if you see something tagged with #pat or #i miss him, it’s probably about him.

idk what else to say. i’ve been manipulated many times since. used, beat, thrown away. at least pat had the decency to lie to me about it while he did. i’ve never been anyone’s first choice, and i’ve never felt as loved as i did when i had him. he was my best friend, and while this story isn’t about him, it’s hardly about me either. long story short, people used me because they could. i was available. i was around. i used to feel like a victim until i realized im just not special enough to be that. im not special enough to be anything to anyone, and my body wasn’t even “chosen” to be used because its me, it was just convenience. idk. that’s as much as im willing to share. there’s more but - for now this is enough.