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saintobio · 10 months ago

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blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable.

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it?

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family.

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this.

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight.

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.”

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.”

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first?

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really?

“I want to do it.”

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.”

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure.

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was.

Did Sukuna feel the same?

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.”

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was?

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.”

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face.

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk.

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed.

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was.

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.”

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.”

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.”

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.”

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?”

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.”

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom.

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds.

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it.

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked.

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here.

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?”

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.”

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V.

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking.

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it?

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.”

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such.

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.”

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?”

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.”

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?”

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment.

Holy fuck was all you could say.

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty.

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.”

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier.

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing.

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.”

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself.

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out.

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?”

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw?

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.”

“Okay…”

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you.

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be.

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding.

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore?

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance.

“Haaa—!”

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock.

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!”

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!”

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you.

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.”

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.”

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have.

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.”

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.”

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?”

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.”

Why did he sound like he was giving up?

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.”

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.”

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.”

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay.

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly.

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s.

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.”

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.”

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on.

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued.

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this?

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.”

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.”

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon.

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school.

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.”

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.”

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.”

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.”

“Be serious,” you warned.

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.”

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.”

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?”

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?”

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior.

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.”

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment.

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.”

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark.

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?”

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?”

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires.

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.”

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?”

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.”

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this.

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too.

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue.

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together.

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating.

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close.

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face.

His ex-girlfriend of three years.

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?”

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies.

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.”

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?”

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.”

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here?

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.”

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?”

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.”

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve.

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.”

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!”

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head.

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed?

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it.

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?”

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.”

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?”

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.”

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?”

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?”

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.”

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life.

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right.

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart.

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?”

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.”

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp.

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.”

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.”

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.”

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?”

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad.

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit.

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.”

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.”

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared.

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.”

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“...Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.”

He knew what she was about to do next.

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses.

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face.

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.”

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night.

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you.

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago.

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do.

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart.

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?”

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?”

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.”

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?”

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.”

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?”

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out.

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.”

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!”

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!”

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.”

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.”

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you.

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you.

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way.

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others.

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up.

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop.

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.”

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully.

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.”

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well.

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.”

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.”

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.”

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future.

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #tattoo artist sukuna #biker sukuna #tattoo artist x florist au

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wileys-russo · 6 months ago

Text

in the blink of an eye (3) II a.putellas

part one part two

in the blink of an eye (3) II a.putellas

"alexia?"

your eyes almost fell out of your head in shock at the bewildered looking blonde stood at your front door.

you shouldn't have been surprised she remembered your old apartment given this is where the two of you first set down roots.

the place itself had been owned by your sister, rented out to you for next to nothing while you were drowning in student debt.

you'd kicked and fought and argued with natalia to charge you what she would a proper tenant, determined not to be a burden and take the handout, but your sister forever stubborn had dug her heels in and refused.

you owed a lot to natalia.

the two of you were always thick as thieves despite the fact she was five years older, if anything that just meant you idolized her more.

you had always looked up to her, wanted to follow in her footsteps and make something of yourself just like she did.

your sister had been drawn to helping others since she was a child, performing practice 'surgeries' on dolls and toys, giving CPR to your teddys and tending to and bandaging up every little scrape, bump, bruise or paper cut you'd had without a second thought.

which given your track record of being unable to sit still, instead found climbing trees, riding cardboard down hills and racing your bike everywhere without a helmet on, were not exactly few and far between.

right out of high school natalia had already been accepted into university on an early entry offer, and with impeccable grades and a resume of volunteering and community work near 4 pages long, it was to nobodys surprise.

she'd studied to be a paramedic, also with those same genes of being unable to sit still the thought of being stuck in a hospital all day long was not on the cards for her.

she'd met her husband on her first week of university, and you were the first person she told after he kissed her goodbye on the first date, something natalia never did.

you'd teased her for the way her cheeks flushed pink and she stumbled over her words, giggling like a school girl and giddy with delight it was a stark contrast to her normally rational and stern demeanor.

so maybe you'd known he was the one for her before she did.

you were her maid of honour at their wedding two years later, and alexia had been your date, in fact that was the first time the poor girl had been subjected to meeting your extended family and you'd been so nervous you downed half a bottle of champagne before even leaving for the ceremony itself.

you owed a lot to your sister.

she was, even if you refused to ever tell her so, a huge factor in why you'd pursued law so fiercely.

you could have dropped down to a part time degree to ease the mental load it took on you, but determined to show everyone that whatever she could do you could too, you pushed on.

you would make something of yourself and make her proud of you.

only now, now it was a shame you hadn't finished that degree. you hadn't graduated.

when you left barcelona for madrid you’d dropped down to a part time degree, doubling the time it would take to finish, choosing to fill your time wallowing in your own self pity party.

when your mami’s health had started to decline you’d missed exams, seminars, your first set of placement hours.

you’d fallen behind, the mountain you needed to climb to catch up growing bigger by the day as did the mental load that stretching yourself so thin between home and heart took on you.

so you’d deferred, pushed it right to the back of your mind which was already a mess with everything going on, not unlike that one drawer in everyone’s house where all the crap you never use goes, abandoned and lost but still there, somewhere.

and now you were back living under natalias roof, her handout. and even though you knew it wasn't true and that natalia was always proud of you no matter what, your sister now wouldn't ever be there to tell you so herself.

when you and alexia broke up you withdrew from everything, from everyone. you retreated inside the four walls of your own mind because with those up nobody could get in to hurt you again.

out of a cocktail of both guilt, fear and pain you pushed everyone away, fled to madrid and started over by yourself, changed universities, transferred your degree and started part time and rented a tiny little shoebox above a bar that thumped and pulsed and kept you up all night.

but you didn't care, didn't reach out for help when things went from bad to worse, because if nobody was close then not only could you spare yourself more pain but it meant you couldn't hurt anyone again.

like you knew you'd hurt alexia.

your sister had tried to pull you out of that shell, pushing on forward despite how many barriers you put up to try and slow her down. because thats not who natalia was, giving up when things got hard was not what she did.

but then she'd fallen pregnant and your mami’s health dropped and just like after that date all those years ago you were the first person she called, seven times before you finally picked up to be exact, and finding out the news began to change things.

your icy outer shell began to melt away. you'd come back home for holidays and birthdays, and then for weekends, and then just because.

when mariposa was born you saw a whole new side to your sister. she'd always been one of the most empathetic and caring human beings, and natalia was the best sister you could have asked for, however, natalia was made to be a mother.

your own mami was shocked at how easily she adapted, days on end without sleep seeming to not phase her as routines were cemented and bonds formed, and posie had been drowned with love and affection from the moment she entered the world as natalias daughter.

but now, now she was gone.

you wished you'd called her more, told her how much she meant to you instead of just assuming she knew, told her you loved her, how proud you were of her.

your sisters job as a paramedic had been to save lives, and yet within seconds her own was gone and there wasn't a single thing anyone could do about it, and that feeling of helplessness, it had broken you.

but your life and your feelings and your grief didn't matter anymore. your sister has entrusted you from the moment mariposa was born to be not only her tia

"alexia?" you repeated yourself as she looked like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, guilt in her eyes and mouth slightly agape ready to hurry out an excuse about why she was doing what she was, calves tense like she was ready to bolt in the other direction at the drop of a hat.

only really, alexia had no excuse, had no words.

at the sight of you up close and personal, a real living breathing person and not merely a haunted figment of her imagination, after it had been so long the girls mouth ran dry and her head drained like a bathtub of any and all logical thought.

"eh...hola?" the blonde managed out, jolting slightly as there was an ear piercing scream behind you and you moved to push the door closed a little more, clearly sheltering away whatever was going on behind you.

"hola." you replied back in shock, both of you just looking one another up and down, until the crying behind you grew louder and you seemed to snap out of the haze which had befallen you in your ex girlfriends presence.

"alexia i- lo siento now is really not a good time." you cringed as posie screamed again and there was a clatter where she threw her cup across the room, having an absolute meltdown over the fact you'd refused to let her have a chocolate muffin for dinner instead of the chicken and rice you'd cooked.

as much as you did struggle to say no to her and you really wanted to give her everything she wanted and more, you also knew part of your role as her guardian was to make sure she was eating right and staying healthy.

plus the three year old was already long overdue a nap, her normal schedule thrown off with the mid afternoon meeting with ana, and you knew if you pumped her full of sugar she'd not go down and the rest of the day would be a nightmare.

"i-no lo siento i should have told you i was coming. well i mean i could not have but i just saw you today and i do not have your number and i just-well i-" alexia struggled to string together a sentence and an ever so slight glimpse of a smile made its way to your lips.

"-and here you are." you finished it for her as the catalan blushed slightly and nodded. “lucky guess.” you forced a smile, and at the rosy pink flush tinting her tanned skin you had a strange feeling settle in your stomach.

it wasn't something new, but it wasn't something exactly all that familiar. it felt like someone was trying to tie up all your innards into a balloon animal, twisting and pinching and tugging at parts that felt both foreign and peculiar.

you couldn't quite make heads or tails of it but the one thing that was obvious was the cause of all these strange new feelings, was alexia.

though just like before you were yanked out of your haze by the sound of something smashing, head ducking around the door to see your niece had managed to kick away the top of her high chair and was stood up and screaming now.

"oye, vuelve a sentarte!" you yelled to her as she screamed and wailed unhappily, tiny face glowing red as you began to worry she might pass out as the colour in her cheeks grew brighter by the second.

"te odio tía! te odio!" posie screamed and your heart broke to see her so distraught and not know the right way to deal with it. however so focused on the girl you missed the twelve different emotions which flashed across your ex's face as she was sure she'd misheard what was going on inside.

tía?

"i-dame un minuto." you excused yourself quickly, the door closing back in alexias face before she could even process her thoughts let alone say a single syllable.

"mariposa. i am trying my best here nena! por favor you need to eat real food." you begged, grabbing her under the arms and trying to sit her back down though the moment you touched her she began to thrash and kick and yell.

"posie-" you grunted as her foot dug into your stomach and exhaled shakily trying to keep your head as calm as you could. but when nothing you said or tried worked, and with still finding your comfort ability with discipline, you went for plan b.

giving her what she wanted, rewarding her bad behaviour. but you were a bleeding heart on your worst days and when she started to cry for her mami, you crumbled.

"vale! you can have the muffin posie just stop crying and screaming! and we do not kick and hit people!" you yelled, the girl falling silent for a moment as you exhaled when she rag dolled and went limp in your arms.

but it would seem you let your guard down too soon.

you hissed and almost dropped her as her little teeth sank into the flesh of your hand, grunting in pain and placing her down on the floor where she stomped her foot and her eyes welled back up with tears.

"bebita-" you inhaled sharply and squatted down to her height, lowering the volume of your voice and readying yourself to soothe her.

but it was too late, the damage was done and with another yell that she hated you she took off, little feet thumping against the floorboards and you winced as her door slammed.

and people thought only teenagers did that.

you knew what your sister would do, which was to not even have gotten into this situation in the first place.

mariposa had been a near perfect baby, hardly ever crying, hardly ever throwing a tantrum.

of course there were times she would become grizzly or overtired or upset, but natalia always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, she always knew exactly what everyone else needed from her.

but you, you were clueless.

you knew rationally what you should do, go after her and check in on the three year old who'd just locked herself in her room in a fit of emotional turmoil.

but selfishly just needing a minute for yourself you sank to the floor with your forehead pressed against your palms, blocking out everything and everyone for just a brief moment of reprise, a glimpse of delusion that this wasn't your reality now.

if you stopped for just a second you could convince yourself you were simply babysitting.

natalia and her husband were off having some well earned alone time together, a date perhaps they'd have called it because your sister was always telling you that just because you got married not to let the romance or the spontaneity of the relationship die off for a routine.

but you never did get married, you couldn't even handle an engagement. and you weren't babysitting, your sister wasn't away on a date, she was never coming back, and you needed to swallow that pill and stop deluding yourself.

so with a deep inhale through your nose and a shaky exhale from your mouth, you pushed yourself up to your feet and forcing them one in front of the other made your way through the carnage of your apartment and toward posie's room.

thankfully it didn't have a lock, however you struggled to open it, hitting it lightly with your shoulder as something was clearly blocking it.

finally wiggling it open enough for your body to slide through you realized it was your nieces blanket, and your heart broke at the sight of her toys and bedding all flung around the room.

because though you could stop and take a moment and process your thoughts and emotions, the reality was that mariposa was three years old and didn't quite yet that ability.

you supposed it was your responsibility now to provide an environment where she learned, and where you set a good example.

great job you were doing of that so far.

you were drowning and struggling to tread water enough just to keep your head from going under all together.

"oh mi amorcito." you sighed quietly, your stomach twisting with guilt seeing your niece had clearly exhausted herself, slumped down in the corner buried in a small mountain of her softer toys with her favorite teddy clutched in a death grip to her chest, thumb of her other hand jammed in her mouth and passed out asleep.

quickly hurrying to re-make her bed you very gently picked her up, not even breathing as you feared you'd wake her, but she slept on soundly as you carefully tucked her into bed, resisting the urge to just lay down with her and hold her so tightly, and to never let go.

kissing her forehead you brushed her hair out of her face, just staring at her for a moment in adoration.

up close she really looked so much like your sister, her mami.

the downward slope of her little button nose, the dimples in the corner of her mouth where she smiled, the little cowlicks in her fringe.

materialistic objects aside, mariposa was really all that you had left to tether you to natalia. your sister clearly trusted you even if you couldn’t work out for the life of you why, and you knew that even if you couldn’t see her anymore, that she was looking down on you and on her daughter.

and you’d never been so determined in your whole entire life, not to let her down.

with a soft smile you tucked her in a little tighter and slowly backed out of the room, leaving the door just ajar and exhaling a deep breath you’d not even realised you were holding.

then as you stared at the semi destroyed living room, food and toys and parts of the high chair flung all across the room, it clicked.

alexia.

“hijo de puta!” you cursed in realization, hurrying back to the front door and tugging it open, not surprised but maybe just a little disappointed to find not a soul in sight.

then again it has been easily a half hour since you slammed the door in her face, perhaps even more. had she really even been there in the first place?

given the lack of sleep you were currently navigating, delusions and apparitions certainly weren't off the table.

with a sigh and what seemed like the millionth shake of your head just that day, you softly closed and relocked the front door, rubbing your temples to soothe the splitting headache you felt coming on before it had even arrived.

you wanted nothing more than to sleep. to simply curl up into a tiny little ball under the covers, creating a little cocoon just like when you couldn’t have been any older than posie. just holding yourself and sleeping until all of this went away, or perhaps until they invented a time machine.

but you now had responsibilities and needs and a little human that relied on you that were far far more important than any of your own, and you’d be damned if you let a single other bad thing happen to that little girl, or to taint the legacy of your sister which mariposa held in her tiny little fists.

so with a nod and shifting your mindset you set off, picking things up and placing them back where they belonged, trying to create even a false sense of organisation and like you absolutely knew what you were doing.

however you were interrupted before you even had much of a chance to begin, knocks sounding at the door as you had an armful of toys and frowned in confusion.

you prayed to every god you knew that it wasn’t ana with a surprise drop in, but normally off the record she let you know when she was coming.

though having learned how the system worked from your time in law school you knew that if someone found out it would mean a change of caseworker.

and you couldn't afford mistakes like that, you would make this work, you had to.

dropping the armful of toys in the little basket where they normally lived you hurried to the door, flicking the deadbolt off and peering out the little peephole, eyebrows shooting up in surprise at who looked right back at you.

"alexia?" you repeated yet again, the blonde stood back in front of the door with a paper bag tucked under her arm and a tray of two coffees in hand, rubbing the back of her neck with an odd look on her face.

"oye, you uh you seemed like you may need this." the girl smiled awkwardly holding up the trays of coffee and you almost threw up that after all of these years she still remembered how you liked yours.

always iced, two sugars, oat milk.

in a different time there would be a teasing remark on her rosy pink lips about how she never understood no matter the weather it was always an iced coffee, your strange aversion to warm beverages of all kinds forever amusing to her.

you almost lay in wait for her to hold the tray above her head, tap her lips with her free hand and demand a kiss in thanks before she'd hand over the caffeine held hostage.

many a time you'd been far too grumpy and simply tried to tackle it out of her grasp, not in the mood for her games but that usually just resulted in her effortlessly holding you off with a smug little smirk.

or ever so occasionally...the two of you would end up on the floor and doused with coffee, a pause of silence before one of you would crack and laugh, holding your stomachs as you'd just laugh. and laugh, and laugh and laugh, until eventually you'd both roll into one anothers arms, giggling and exchanging words between the meeting of your lips. words which were normally poking fun at your impatience.

you wondered if she had found someone else to laugh with now.

"i-gracias." you exhaled with a slight smile, subtly pinching your hip beneath the fabric of your shirt to make sure you weren't having some sort of sleep deprived manic episode and conjuring her up in your mind.

because subconsciously you don't think she ever left, not really, and it wasn't for a lack of trying to kick her out of your memories and your head on your behalf, that was for certain.

"do you...want to come in?" you winced at how forced it sounded, a flicker of insecurity and doubt in the footballers eyes for a second.

"maybe this was a mistake. lo siento i just saw you and-" alexia struggled to string her words together, cursing inwardly for how tongue tied you still had her.

if the girl was really really honest with herself, you still had her wrapped right around your little finger.

"-and here you are." you finished for her once more, alexias stomach flipping at the soft smile sent her way. "you came all the way here, you brought coffee. please, come in." you spoke a little more sure of yourself this time, opening the door a little more and moving aside.

"you are sure?" alexia questioned, hovering right in the door way. "no, are you?" you rebutted as she opened and closed her mouth before shaking her head and returning your smile, stepping inside.

"i do get dibs on whatever is in that bag though." you joked with another small smile as she placed the coffees down on the kitchen counter and you locked the door again, trying to bait yourself into a false sense of security that this wasn't a terrible idea, and a bizaree one at that.

only as you turned back around you realised the state your apartment was actually still in, the same fog from before having hazed your mind in the presence of your ex.

"oh dios mio. uh just give me a second!" you blushed with embarrassment and rushed around, shoving things away and kicking them into corners, desperately trying to pull the cover back over the hot mess express your life really was.

"no no alexia por favor you do not need to-" you begged as you noticed alexia had grabbed some paper towel and started to clean the table where the remains of posie's lunch had been flung across it.

but a firm look from the older girl stopped you in your tracks and you knew better than to try and argue with her, mumbling a quiet thank you as a silence fell between the pair of you.

it wasn't exactly comfortable, but it certainly wasn't as tense as you'd have thought as you finally put away the last of the things scattered across the living room, well as best as you could anyway.

"lo siento i do not mean to-it has been a day." you admitted with a small sigh, accepting the coffee alexia held out to you as the pair of you took a seat at the table across from one another, purposefully avoiding making any actual eye contact.

"so, how are you?" you broke first, swallowing your mouthful of coffee and stirring it absentmindedly. "bien, y tú?" alexia answered as you nodded. "bien, bien."

"really?" "really?"

at your shared thought you both looked up and blushed as your eyes met, a small smile curling into your lips as you sipped on your coffee. "i mean it has been a long time ale." you admitted as the footballer hummed.

"almost four years."

"look alexia you heard the screaming, and you saw me at the cafe. i am sure you have questions, just ask them." you encouraged, the girl feeling your eyes burn a hole in her forehead.

"she is very cute, the nena." alexia started, still scrambling to try and piece together any logical thoughts as her heartbeat pounded in her ears like a freight train.

"mariposa, but we call her posie." you smiled, glancing behind you to the bedroom where you knew she was soundly asleep. "she is not always that loud either." you attempted to joke, wincing at the painful awkwardness of your delivery.

"is she yours?" alexia blurted out, her mouth and her brain missing a step in which they communicated about what the other was doing, a short bark of laughter leaving your lips at her forwardness.

"no, she's natalia's." you answered and alexia couldn't even begin to describe the odd sense of relief which flooded her body. "oh i did not-the woman you were with, i thought-" alexia's brain finally kicked in at that point and she clamped her mouth shut again.

"you thought?" you tried to coax the rest of the sentence out to her but it would appear under lock and key as alexia shook her head with a polite smile. “nothing, sin importar.”

“you thought she was mine.” you realized a split second later, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. the blush which returned right to the catalans cheeks across the table from you all the confirmation you needed.

"you thought ana-oh no, no no." you shook your head firmly, not missing the ever so slight flash of relief which flickered through alexia's eyes like a lightning strike, there one second and gone the next.

"there is a lot to explain." you sighed, dragging your hands down your face tiredly. "you do not have to, por favor i did not come here to interrogate you." alexia promised, hand starting to just inch toward yours before she stopped herself, immediately shoving it down into her lap with a frown.

"i want to." you pushed a little firmer as you caught your exes eye and she paused before nodding. "where to even start?" you laughed humourlessly, running a hand through your hair and looking off across the room.

"the woman i was with, her name is ana, she is a social worker with child services." you began after a moment. "she is in charge of the...well the investigation, into if i am the best full time carer for mariposa." you continued, alexia listening attentively to your every word.

"natalia-" you squeezed your eyes shut, looking up to the roof and as she suddenly put the pieces together alexia's heart shattered.

"oh. no por favor you do not need to-" "está bien." you quipped shortly as alexia fell silent again and you took a very deep breath.

" they went to the movies, out for dinner, a normal night. i was home for the weekend and i babysat posie, to give them some time together." you continued, swallowing the sob which sat poised and ready to strike.

"they were driving home-" you paused and exhaled shakily, looking back up to the roof as tears brimmed your eyes and you quickly wiped them away.

"there was a man who was very drunk, he was driving, fell asleep at the wheel and swerved into the other lane where a truck was coming." you inhaled sharply as you felt a sharp stab to your side.

"the truck also swerved, lost control and went into the other lane and...and drove right into them. they were both killed on impact." you forced out, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on your breathing.

you weren't sure how long that horrible silence lasted, but alexia didn't even trust herself enough to breathe, worried of what you might think and ignoring every urge she had to climb across the table and take you into her arms.

"when mariposa was born, i was named as not just her tía but also her godmother. natalia's husband, he has no family around. my mami, she is too old and her arthritis is too bad to look after herself let alone a child." you revealed, steadying yourself slightly now as you glanced up and chanced a look to your ex.

"so posie lives with me now. but it is all temporary until we have family court and i can legally adopt her, which is why child services is involved, why i was meeting with ana, why i moved back here. barcelona is all posie has ever known, where natalia....was. i will not rip her away from what little anchors she has just for me. and i will not see her live with strangers. i will not fail her, i will not fail natalia." you whispered, swallowing with a determined nod that alexia matched.

"please do not say you are sorry. i-i have had enough of the pity alexia, of the sympathy. por favor i cannot take any more!" you cut her off before she even began, the apology dying in the older girls mouth as her features softened and she nodded.

another silence fell, suffocating and awkward, as alexia wracked her brain for where to go next, what to say next.

"can i, can i say something?" alexia asked hesitantly as you nodded this time, finger tracing circles against the cool plastic of the coffee cup in your hand.

a habit which had alexia practically feel the ghost of your touch across the back of her hand, the place where your fingers used to absentmindedly touch and poke and trace when you were anxious.

"i know it has been years but, i owe you an apology." alexia swallowed the hardened lump in her throat, nearing the edge of the cliff of her comfort ability, ready to dive headfirst into what was likely going to be a very awkward conversation.

"i should not have pushed you, about the engagement. i should not have left that night. i should have waited, listened, i was selfish. i would like to say i was just young and hurt but...i would be lying if i said i have not regretted it for many many years." alexia forced out, pushing the straw around her cup as her eyes were trained down to the tabletop.

"oh alexia." you sighed out, a pained smile on your face and a storm cloud of emotion brewing behind the surface of your features, only visible through your eyes which alexia looked up and found herself lost in.

"i should have listened to you, heard you out. you do not need to be sorry, you were ready to take that next step and, and well i think i was just scared of what that meant. overwhelmed and nervous, but i should known it only came from a place of love, of your love for me." you admitted, both of you falling quiet as you just stared at one another, the longing look you gave one another maybe saying more than any words could.

"i still love you." oh alexia could have kicked herself in the head at that, the words tumbling out from her lips before she could clamp them shut, the panic which flooded your face having her wish the floor would suddenly swallow her up.

"ale-"

"oh dios mio, lo siento mucho! i just-i just meant i still have love, for you?" alexia tried rapidly to backpedal, but any attempts she made would be just as useful as trying to shove back the toothpaste of her words back into the tiny tiny tube of her mind.

"alexia. i do not think you have ever really left my mind but-" you paused to sigh deeply, sinking down into your chair as you carefully thought out your next words.

"-but my life is a mess right now ale, un desastre. i can barely care for myself, meet my needs. everything i have needs to go to posie and making sure she stays with me and has the best life possible it is the least i can do for natalia and-" you were shocked into silence as a hand reached out, a slender finger wiping the tear which threatened to fall from the corner of your eye, one you hadn't even felt coming but alexia saw long before it appeared.

your skin tingled at her touch and her thumb ever so lightly traced the curve of your jaw before her arm was pulled back and she gave you a small smile and a nod of understanding.

"i know, you do not need to explain yourself to me." alexia promised, still nodding as you found yourself joining her, jolting slightly at the scrape of her chair against the floorboards and you hurried to stand as well.

you watched as her eyes flickered around the room for a moment, landing on the paper bag of pastries which was now likely cold and still untouched.

her head turned again and she grabbed the whiteboard marker off your fridge, tearing off a section of the bag and scribbling something down.

as she moved again your feet followed with a mind of their own to the door where alexia now hovered, fist clenched tightly around the small scrap of brown paper in her palm.

"i know you, and i know that you are struggling with this. and i know that you would rather send yourself under and push mariposa up to float. but there are life rings you can reach out for, help that there is no shame in taking." alexia spoke firmly but not unkindly as you quickly used the back of your hand to wipe away another tear which threatened to fall.

"i will always have love for you. and if you need a friend, i am always here. if you need help, i will always be there. please do not drown yourself for the sake of your pride amor, you need to look after yourself to be able to look after posie, sí?" you found yourself nodding at her words, feeling her slip the piece of paper into your hand from her own.

"so take care of yourself, if not for anyone then for her, and for your hermana. natalia would be so proud of you, no matter what. she chose you, she knew posie would be best in your care. she chose you! you could never let her down." alexia's voice dropped to barely above a whisper as all you could do was nod and within seconds you were melting into her tight embrace.

"please look after yourself, call me if you need me, en cualquier momento." her lips softly kissed your cheek, lingering there for a moment with one final squeeze of your smaller form against hers, and then you blinked, and she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

did i say this would only have three parts? yes.

did i lie? …yes.

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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luvashli · 13 days ago

Text

CHASE THE HEAT

-> Y/n‘s motorcycle/ Enhypen‘s cars

Synopsis -> Y/N, a daring motorcycle racer, catches the attention of seven competitive car racers called ENHYPEN. Driven by lust and rivalry, the boys chase her both on and off the track, but as the tension builds, their obsession with her grows. Will they see her for more than just a prize, or will their dangerous desires consume them?

Y/N’s Motorcycle

Model: Ducati Panigale V4 S

Why: The Ducati Panigale is sleek, powerful, and undeniably badass. Its aggressive design and impressive speed match Y/N's bold and daring persona.

Features to Highlight:

A jet-black finish with crimson accents. Exceptional speed and handling, allowing Y/N to perform insane stunts and maneuvers during races. A throaty, roaring engine sound that turns heads wherever she goes. Y/N’s bike represents her independence and her ability to stand out in a world dominated by car racers. It’s fast, lethal, and a statement piece, just like her.

ENHYPEN’s Cars

Each car reflects their individual personality and racing style:

Jungwon (Leader)

Car: Nissan GT-R R35

Color: Midnight blue with silver detailing.

Why: The GT-R is a precise, powerful machine, perfect for a strategist like Jungwon. It’s reliable yet intimidating, just like him.

Racing Style: Methodical and calculated, Jungwon rarely makes mistakes.

Heeseung (Veteran)

Car: Porsche 911 Turbo S

Color: Metallic gray with red accents.

Why: A refined, high-performance car that suits Heeseung’s calm and experienced demeanor.

Racing Style: Smooth and consistent, relying on his years of experience to win.

Jay (The Showman)

Car: Chevrolet Corvette C8 Stingray

Color: Bright yellow with black racing stripes.

Why: Flashy, bold, and attention-grabbing—just like Jay. The Corvette’s mix of power and style fits his personality perfectly.

Racing Style: Thrives on risky moves and showing off during races.

Jake (The Heart)

Car: Ford Mustang Shelby GT500

Color: Deep green with white stripes.

Why: A Mustang is a classic, reliable car with a wild streak, mirroring Jake’s charming yet intense nature.

Racing Style: Balanced and adaptive, he races with both heart and skill.

Sunghoon (The Perfectionist)

Car: Audi R8 V10 Plus

Color: Glossy black with subtle chrome accents.

Why: The Audi R8’s sleek design and precision performance are ideal for Sunghoon’s meticulous personality.

Racing Style: Laser-focused on perfection, he rarely takes unnecessary risks.

Sunoo (The Charmer)

Car: Lamborghini Huracán EVO

Color: Pearl white with gold accents.

Why: The Huracán EVO is sleek, stylish, and undeniably powerful—perfect for Sunoo’s sharp and unpredictable nature. It retains an air of charm while exuding luxury and speed.

Racing Style: Agile and precise, he knows how to make bold moves without sacrificing control, keeping everyone guessing.

Ni-ki (The Wildcard)

Car: Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat

Color: Matte black with glowing orange details.

Why: The Hellcat’s raw power and rebellious vibe perfectly match Ni-ki’s fearless and unpredictable nature.

Racing Style: Aggressive and daring, he pushes limits like no one else.

Note: i tried to find pictures as close as possible… hopefully it helps at least a little bit for imagining the cars while reading. :)

Masterlist chase the heat

Chase the heat Teaser

Masterlist

Open taglist

If you'd like to be tagged in future updates for this story, let me know by:

- Sending me a message or

- Dropping a comment on this post (or any chapter)

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fall0utmind · 4 months ago

Text

New fic!!!!!!

Let me know what you think!!

✨️WOULD YOU STILL LOVE ME IF I TOLD YOU MY DARKEST SECRETS?✨️

A rosquez medical leak AU fic

Here on AO3 (please check it out)

Below the cut for more

(Tw/ mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, and medication abuse - no active description)

Please read with care 🤍🤍

CHAPTER 1 - DOOMSDAY 🏍

The news drops some time in free practice at Misano. Marc has no idea how it got out or who told the media, but he knows it would be everywhere for the next week—hell, the next year.

The sun is high in the cloudless sky, beating down on Marc, and filling the air with the familiar scent of burning rubber and asphalt. He’s going for a final flying lap, trying to put in a decent time on the GP23. Pushing through the ache of his body, he toes the limit for both him and his bike. He presses on until he passes the chequered flag, finally releasing the tension he holds, unwinding like a coil.

Only once he’s driving into the garage, towards the concerned faces of his press officer and crew, he realises something is wrong. At first, he thinks that he has done something wrong on track, perhaps he pushed someone off the racing line and ruined a flyer. He mentally scrambles, racking his brain for a mistake, for any reason he may have aggrieved the fans or his colleagues. It didn’t have to be much, these days, more than in 2015 or 2016, but they still sought any reason to string him up on a cross. Just like Valentino had done so willingly, all those years ago, sacrificing Marc as a martyr to the sport so he could be a god.

He shakes himself out of his thoughts. There is a press conference later, maybe it has something to do with that. Marc hasn’t stepped a foot wrong today, he’s sure of it. No crashes, no mistakes, and no on-track battles that people like to examine and use against him. It’s only a practice session. God, he’s overthinking because he got like 4 hours of sleep last night, and this is Italy. Rossi territory. Anxious overthinking is Marc’s familiar friend these days, with so much on the line and so few people in his corner. Press conferences can be tricky in Italy but he’ll get through it, even with the hatred of a nation against him.

Marc clambers off his bike, passing his helmet to a nearby crew member. The team are tense, afraid to look him in the eyes. That’s odd for Marc, he has always had a natural air about him that draws others in and makes them feel at ease. Even Frankie, his ever-present race engineer, struggles to hold his gaze. It does nothing to put him at ease, anxiety coiling in his gut.

They run through their usual practice debrief, evaluating the bike set-up (good, today), pace (impossibly quick for the GP23, and that make Marc glow with satisfaction), and track. It is awkward and stilted, so at odds with the usual team atmosphere which Marc has come to love. The engineers and mechanics shoot the occasional pitying glance at Marc or towards his press officer, patiently waiting in the corner of the garage. Anticipation is clawing at his stomach, making nausea burn in the back of his throat. He knows something is wrong and he can barely focus on the discussion which is wrapping up around him, too panicked to pick up the threads of conversation.

After what feels like an eternity, the crew is dismissed, offering pats of congratulations, or maybe commiserations, as they disperse. Despite his tension, he feels a wave of pride rise in him, pleased with the performance he has managed so far, and grateful that he has managed to find a home within the Italian team.

Marc pushes himself out of his chair, shrugging his shoulders a couple of times, trying to ignore the persistent ache in his right arm. He shoots a tight smile at Frankie, before making his way over to the corner of the room, where the press officer awaits him, a grimace set on her face.

A quick look over one shoulder tells him Alex’s side of the garage is blissfully unaware of the tension in the other end of the room. His brother is happily chatting away to his team, hands waving around as he speaks, a trait which they both shared. Sometimes, he looks at his younger brother and feels scalding guilt at the burden he must carry due to Marc’s failure. It is nice to see him like this, carefree and at ease.

“Marc”

His thoughts are interrupted by the gentle prompting of the waiting woman, who nods to one of the private rooms. After a beat, Marc follows her, heart in his throat despite his best attempts to swallow the nerves. She sits down with a heavy sigh, prompting Marc to follow suit, gingerly sitting on the edge of his chair.

“There’s no easy way to say this Marc”

She awaits his slow nod before continuing

“There’s been a situation. Some of your hospital reports have been leaked, all we know for sure is something from around 2015. We don’t know much about what people know. Currently the media seem unaware about most of it and we would like to keep it that way.”

Marc frowns in confusion. 2015? What? I mean obviously it’s not ideal, a hospital shouldn’t ever let this kind of information reach the general public, especially not for someone as well known as him. But why is everyone walking on eggshells around him about a hospital admission, it makes no sense, at this point he’s at a hospital more often than he isn’t.

He is just about to ask what on earth she’s on about when it hits him. His heart drops like a stone. Hospital, A&E, 2015, the aftermath of Sepang and all the shit that followed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The press officer might still be talking to him, he doesn’t know. He feels like he is underwater, blood rushing in his ears. Heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his mouth. He sees her mouth moving, but hears nothing over his own thoughts, threatening to drown him. He needs to breathe, realising a few seconds too late to take a gasp of air, grounded by a gentle hand on his arm and kind eyes staring at him with pity.

“Obviously this is unanticipated, we don’t know who leaked this information or how they came across it in the first place. Be assured that we have legal looking into it right now, and we will keep you updated. We don’t know how much people know, its possible the reporters on site today haven’t caught wind of it yet. But they shouldn’t know much, even if they have. At the moment, we have it under control. It has only just come out in the last 30 minutes, but the press conference...”

Marc doesn’t need the look that follows to grasp her meaning Be cautious and be prepared. Right, Italy. Mierda.

“It should be fine, like I said, we are working on it to make sure it was just a minor leak about your attendance to hospital. No details.”

Marc takes another deep breath. Surely no one at the hospital would be stupid enough to share such confidential information. No, no, it is just some background noise, people will think he had an accident. Needed treatment. He trusts his team to keep an eye on it, it will blow over soon enough. He will be surprised if he even gets asked about it, with little to no evidence or substance.

Either way he has to face the press at some point. Not going will just make him look more suspicious, not to mention the hefty fine he will probably receive alongside. He drags himself to his feet, shooting her a smile that is probably a bit more of a grimace and thanking her for the heads up.

She reassures him once more that they have this under control, but his mind is already on another track. He needs a quick shower and to mentally prepare himself for the possibility of nosy reporters.

Marc is restless. Ten minutes into the press conference, he feels he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. He can tell the others have noticed. Pecco keeps shooting him little glances, and at one point he swears that the younger aborts a small movement towards Marc’s knee, which has been bouncing continuously since they sat down.

Usually, Marc doesn’t mind press conferences too much. Realistically, nothing could be as bad as the tumultuous media circus in the years that followed 2015. And if it ever gets that bad again, he has gotten very good at shutting down and putting his PR training into practice. Despite this, Marc can’t help but feel like he’s in shark-infested water.

He’s so stuck inside his head that he barely registers the question directed his way, his head jerking up at the sound of his name.

“Scusi?”

The reporter gives a slight laugh, eyes sharp and searching.

“What do you have to say about the rumours of your hospitalisation at the end of 2015? There are some suggestions that this was more than a biking injury?”

Marc’s heart gives a little stutter. Shit. He wasn’t expecting that so quickly. For the first time, Marc begins to panic, questioning how much the world knows.

“Ah, I say do not listen to everything you hear in the media”, he shoots the reporters a cheeky grin as a light chuckle goes around the room. He feels Pecco’s eyes burning into the side of his head but does not look back, simply nodding at the facilitator to continue.

The next question is directed to Jorge, asking him about his championship chances this year, with Jorge giving the usual spiel about the team and his bike, talking about the decent lap times he put in today. It had been a good practice session for all of them, with Pecco leading into tomorrow’s sessions, followed closely by Marc, dragging every inch out of the GP23, with Jorge and Enea rounding out the top four. Sunday promised to be an interesting race, with the four of them positing similar times throughout the weekend.

Distantly, Marc registers someone asking Enea about working with Pecco, as the current world champion, comparing his times to the other Italian rider, as if they haven’t been working together for over a year already. Marc almost scoffs. Clearly, some journalists needed new material.

Marc’s attention is drawn to a small commotion in the corner of the room, nearest the exit. He watches as his brother enters the room, wide eyes brimming with concern. Fuck. That isn’t good, Alex must know now. Had something else happened? He has faith in his team to keep this on the down low and prevent it all from blowing up in Marc’s face, but it doesn’t stop the flash of concern shooting through him.

“And Marc another question for you”

Well, so much for that. His head whips around at the reporter's tone, searching the crowd to find the speaker. That tone is never a good thing. The same they use when they are going to ask a hurtful question about Valentino or his most recent crash on the track. He tenses in anticipation.

“Regarding the rumours of your 2015 hospital visits, there are now some reports that these visits were due to a so-called mental health crisis. Do you have anything to say about this?”

His heart stops beating. The room goes dead silent. He can feel everyone’s eyes on him, his fellow riders watching in confusion. For Marc, it is like watching a train wreck in slow motion. He looks up and catches Alex’s wide-eyed stare. He's sweating, beads rolling down the side of his neck. Shit. Fucking shit. He’s starting to think he’s not going to make it out of this press conference in one piece, torn apart by the gnashing teeth of the media.

He mentally shakes himself, unwilling to let the others see his dismay. Instead, he schools his features, wills his mouth into a flat line, and answers with his best media-trained nonchalance.

“Ah, it is nothing. No comment. This is not talking about racing; let's move on.”

This seems to wake Pecco up from his trance, tearing his gaze away from Marc and turning his attention back to the reporters. God knows what he was staring at, maybe trying to figure out if this could help him beat Marc next year, if he’s taken anything from Rossi, it would be that.

“Ah, are you going to ask us about the weekend, I would also like to talk about racing”

Some low mutters travel around the room. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He doesn’t know how they have found out, but he does know all too well that the press are like fucking vultures, circling at any sign of a kill. Alex looks like he is about to cry now, doe eyes wide and glossy, his face slack with shock and horror. Marc thinks his face might be a perfect mirror. He still doesn’t really know what’s going on, but it’s clearly worse than he had originally been told.

“Marc, following on from the previous question, it has come to light that you were admitted to A&E several times in 2015 due to suicide attempts. Do you have anything to say about this? Was this anything to do with your infamous fight with Valentino Rossi?”

Oh god, Marc is going to be sick. They went for the kill and came round for a second blow. He glances to his left. Pecco is looking at him in abject horror, his brain scrambling, trying to keep up with the carnage around him. Enea looks like his worst nightmare has come true, wide-eyed and scared, staring at Marc as if he has never seen him before. Jorge just looks confused, bafflement etched on every feature, mouth downturned.

So much for his team's plan to handle it, it has all gone to shit in a matter of minutes. He feels like someone has taken a sledgehammer to his facade, destroying everything he has made himself be. Marc knows he is taking too long to respond, his jaw slack with shock. The world is staring at him with bated breath, his biggest secret lay on the table in front of them all, ready to be dissected. He can’t breathe. He feels wild with it, oxygen-starved and desperate. He needs to get out. He needs to get out now.

He scrambles out of his chair, sending it clattering to the floor behind him, shaking the rest of the room out of their stupor. The room explodes into a cacophony of noise and camera flashes. He is going to be sick. He makes a beeline towards Alex, tugging the younger along with him whilst he flees.

“Mierda, mare puta!

They know, they know that...”

Verbalising it out loud makes a wave of nausea hit him, sending him stumbling to the nearest bathroom. He flings the door open, leans over the toilet and proceeds to throw up everything he has eaten in the last 24 hours. Alex enters behind him, muttering in rapid Catalan under his breath.

2015 took a lot from him. More than anyone could know, more than anyone was ever meant to know. Jesus, 2015 nearly took everything from him, everything from his family. It has taken him a long time to accept that part of his life. Marc retches again into the toilet bowl, resting his forehead against the cool porcelain as he blinks back tears. Alex is pacing behind him, his angry mumbles and Marc’s harsh breathing filling the silence of the room.

“How do they know, how the fuck do they know? How did anyone find out?

Joder Marc, are you ok?”

Marc lifts his head from where he’s slumped against the toilet, looking impossibly young. Alex is the one person he would do anything for, he would walk through hell and back to protect him. He is the only one who truly knows what happened in 2015, who knows the extent of the demons in Marc’s brain. Now they will have to face them again.

“No, not really.”

It’s then that Marc registers Pecco standing behind Alex, concern painted across his face. There is no chance that he hasn’t witnessed Marc losing it, with Jorge and Enea standing not far behind. There is a horrifying understanding dawning in their eyes, the realisation that the journalists had struck gold. Marc had attempted his life in 2015 and has kept it inside for almost ten years, only for the world to find out entirely against his will. Marc knows that his face paints a portrait of pain and regret. It unsettles the others, gazing into a familiar face but seeing a whole dimension that was perhaps always there, if anyone had paid attention. All this pain is tucked up inside him in a neat little package, ripped open for greedy eyes to see. Pecco looks away, eyes guilty.

Marc feels like he’s been punched in the stomach, gasping for air that just won’t come. The other pilots probably think he is pathetic. He doesn’t think he can deal with another reason for the others to hate him. As much as he tries to rise above it, he loathes that his colleagues cannot bring themselves to like him. He cannot quite put a name to the emotions on Pecco’s face, Jorge’s sadness and Enea’s hurt are much easier to read. Perhaps it is disgust. And isn’t that ironic, the prodigy looking at him, disgusted by the consequences of Vale's war on Marc?

Marc mentally berates himself for giving so much away. He forces his eyes to go blank, pulling on the mask which he so often wears once more. He accepts the hand Alex offers him; his brother pulling him to his feet and bearing his weight as they push past Pecco. Marc keeps his eyes on the floor, unable to meet the pitying faces of Martin and Bastianini. Instead, he lets Alex guide them back to their motorhome in silence.

#angst #rosquez #motogp #marc marquez #motogp rpf #my fics #please yap in my asks guys #marcs medical records getting leaked #medical leak au #tell me what you think!#this hurts #its very angsty #more to come he #marc is going THROUGH IT #your honor i love him #but he needs pain #valentino rossi #aoifes yapping

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moonshynecybin · 9 months ago

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i feel like maïna sent me an ask/prompt about. SOMETHING. like this for forced coming out au genuinely so long ago but i can’t find it for the life of me so perhaps i simply made that up. anyways here’s a short fic set in that universe about them dealing with the panopticon. and in fact being pda whores in the panopticon. bon apetit

“There’s a photographer over there,” Marc whispers in his ear, breath warm and close. He loops his arms around Vale’s neck as he says it, sounding nonchalant, but Vale knows him better than that by now, can see the tension tucked in his shoulders, hidden in the carefully collected smile on his face.

“Hmm.” He replies, amiably, nosing at Marc’s cheek. They’re in the paddock and they’re together— of course there’s a photographer on them. There’s probably seven photographers on them. Par for the course in years past, but especially these last couple of months.

And Vale’s always believed that if people are going to look, he might as well give them a show.

He lifts a hand and flips Marc’s cap off of his head, setting it down backwards so the brims of their hats arent competing. Marc’s face catches the sun, and Vale leans in to kiss where it hits the jut of his cheekbone because he can— because it’s what he would do, if they were actually together. If Marc was a girl. If any of this had happened the way it was supposed to, for people like them.

His stomach clenches, involuntary. He thinks he can hear the click of a camera firing. Good.

“Now he can see me.” Marc complains, leaning closer. He tries to hide behind Vale, using their height difference to squeeze himself into his shadow, and Vale laughs, tugging at where his hair is starting to curl behind his ears, where Marc’s skin is smooth and warm.

“It’s been a few weeks— We should probably give them something to see.”

“It has.” Marc agrees, sneaking his hands down now, snaking them inside Vale’s jacket and under his shirt. “We should.”

Vale yelps, curves his body inward reflexively. They’re like ice.

“That’s cold!” He pulls a face. Camera flash.

Marc ignores him, cackles an evil little laugh into the fabric of Vale’s shirt around his collarbone. Vale lets him, wraps an arm around his shoulders and leans back in, making sure Marc is the only one who can hear. It’s their preferred mode of communication these days— close, edging on the line of plausible deniability. His lips catch on the delicate skin of Marc’s temple as he speaks, and they’re in public, so it’s okay to keep them there.

“Karen from PR asked the next time we are available, so we can, ah, do another date.”

Just a few months ago this would all have felt like a minefield, but when he raises an eyebrow —a question— Marc just nods easily. Understanding without words. They’ve been getting good at this part, after everything, all the press and performance and years on track, years in each other’s beds. In MotoGP, you have to be adaptable, able to read another rider’s move, know how they’re going to take a corner almost before they do— and there’s a reason Marc and him are the best at what they do.

“We’re in Phillip Island next week— do you want to try out that place we went last year?” Marc responds, voice lower a little more reserved. His fingers edge under the elastic of Vale’s waistband. His hands must really be cold.

Vale nods, even as his chest clenches, resentment and something less empowering spiking through him. Last year. Right at the end. Phillip Island.

Not a good memory.

He lays a hand to Marc’s neck, thumb hitting the hinge of his jaw. Tilts him where he wants him. Marc goes— like he always does, moving easily with him, body pliable everywhere but the track. His brown eyes focus in on Vale’s face, intent. Unsettling, if you know how he catalogs information, if you know how what sort of instincts he has on the bike— shoving in beside Vale on track without a thought. Risking a bit more than Vale’s ever been able to comfortably stomach.

But Vale’s always thrived in high pressure situations, under attention, and the way Marc’s eyes laser on him only makes him settle. Makes him sharper. Clearer. Hot danger zipping under his collar, shivery and sweet. He wonders what Marc will let him do, out here in the middle of the paddock, with a photographer on them.

Marc’s hands flex, where they’re pressed under Vale’s shirt, like he can understand what Vale’s thinking, that same uncanny ability to predict a move rising to the surface. His nails scrape a little, dragging along the skin of Vale’s lower back.

“Let’s do that.” Vale says. He doesn’t really remember what were they talking about. A date, he thinks. Marc all to himself.

Alone.

The careful attention of Marc’s eyes drop to his mouth, then once, quick, over his shoulder. The photographer. Right.

The show.

“Okay,” Marc says, eyes searching Vale’s face, uncharacteristically serious. Contemplative. Like he’s thinking about something. Vale raises an an eyebrow, but before he can say anything the look on Marc’s face condenses, and he leans up to kiss Vale sweetly, open and a little messy.

And this has always been the thing that’s worked most between them. Easy and magnetic. The push and pull. The perfect picture.

And then Marc’s pushing forward, deeper, licking into Vale’s mouth. Kiss skewing dirty, dirtier than they usually get nowadays, making Vale’s pulse jump— a dare. How far are you willing to go? it asks, that same impudent instinct he has when he’s diving up the inside of Vale’s race line coloring the kiss, and Vale answers.

His teeth bite at Marc’s bottom lip, exercising a little more control, and he crowds forward, using his height to push Marc’s head back, hand splayed on the edge of his jaw. Directing him, coaxing him. And Marc relaxes like that, back arching into Vale as the kiss extends. A surrender.

Vale’s got him where he wants him, and he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to lift a thigh, get Marc pressed up high and tight against him, wants to drag him off to his motorhome, see how far Marc is willing to let him go, wants to—

Another camera shutters, louder, closer, and it breaks the thread between them, bringing them back to reality. To why they’re here. Vale clears his throat, and Marc ducks his head.

Suddenly Vale’s chest hurts, feels cracked open with Marc tucked up against him, nose edging inside his jacket to find some warmth against Vale’s collarbone. So solid and warm and real. The only way Vale gets to hold him anymore is like this, for the cameras.

Love you, he lets himself think, probably for the first time. Love you, he doesn’t say. The camera shutters, and he pulls Marc closer into the well of his body.

#motogp #callie speaks #forced coming out au #rosquez #my fic #i have another fic in the fire for maina from those prompts a week ish ago it’s just beating my ass

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goodfish-bowl · 7 months ago

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Beloved by Death

Danny Phantom x Katekyo Hitman Reborn Crossover

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 6 - Runaway

Summary: Danny runs away, and somewhere in Canada, ends up joining a circus to get himself fully out of the reach of the GIW. Aka, a "Danny is Skull" fic, because I have never seen this khr crossover trope applied to DP before.

Notes: To my DP people unfamiliar with khr, I've tried to make this understandable without having knowledge of khr, but should I have to, I will include anything essential to know in the beginning chapter notes on AO3. Danny's also trying to figure it out too.

Word Count: 2368

AO3 Link

The feeling of weightlessness drowned out anything else Danny could’ve experienced at the moment. It welcomed him, and his core sang with joy as he soared, a moment of reprieve before gravity reasserted its control over him, and the half-ton machine under him. He gave it throttle and his bike roared, tires spinning freely in the air. Danny joined it in a battle cry of his own as he crested the peak of the jump. The crowd gave a roar of their own. It turned to white noise in his ears as he pushed off the foot pegs, letting himself tumble backward in a flip through the air, not once, but twice, inches away from the bike that had brought him there.

For his hard-won, half-second of glory, Danny allowed gravity to snatch him and his bike in its vice grip once more, hurtling him back toward the earth. Danny used a foot to catch the handlebars (a near miss, it always was, caught only by the toe of his boots) then easily slipped back into his seat, catching and steadying the machine with his legs first, then enforcing an iron grip on the handles just in time for the collision into the dirt ramp. The impact shot through the spokes and traveled up his arms and knees, pushing him further into the seat, before momentum shoved him forward and down the ramp.

With practiced ease, he pulled in the clutch and dropped the bike back down several gears until the speed of the jump faded from his head and veins as he made his lap around the track in second. The noise in the peak of the jump had been near-silent compared to the thunder of the audience as he let his heart slow and breathing even back out from the adrenaline of the jump. It once again turned to white noise in his ears as it always did, and satisfaction curled in his veins.

Danny had managed to do it once again, completely unassisted by the ‘cheats’ he held close to his chest. He knew his eyes would be alight from the adrenaline high under the visor of his helmet in glee. He didn’t snuff the sensation but rejoiced in it, his helmet was tinted for a purpose other than just the stadium lights. It was a job well done after all.

Danny took a victory lap and listened as the crowd chanted his name, posed for cameras and video cameras as they caught his visage, tossing in some ground stunts to give the magazines and bloggers something good for their pages. He relished in the attention, just like he was supposed to.

After another round of deep breaths, just enough to clear his head, Danny held a button on the outside of the helmet. Danny slipped into the stage act easily, the Aussie accent lining his Italian perfectly practiced, probably even more so than the stunt he had just pulled off. Every inflection and even the very pitch of his voice was part of the show. A tone echoed through his helmet, and with a signal disguised as another pose, the miked headset built into his helmet connected to the speaker system hooked up throughout the entire area.

“HELLO, adoring fans of mine! I, the Great Skull, accept your warm welcome to the coasts of Italy! Thank you all for coming out to today's performance! WELL? Are you impressed?!”

The crowd gave their roaring validation. Danny haughtily laughed along with their cheers.

“Of course,” Danny continued, arrogance saturating in his tone, “You never should have expected anything less from I, the man hated by death, the immortal stuntman, Skull!”

Running away to join the circus had not been in Danny’s initial plan after crossing the Canadian border. Clockwork must’ve been screwing with him for everything to line up like this. But, even despite his hesitation, Danny couldn’t let an opportunity to get out of the country slip out of his hands like that. With the GIW on his tail, likely caught up arguing with Canadian border control and the politics of sending an aggressive, very noticeable, government agency across country lines, Danny would likely be able to hitch a ride out of the country with the circus before the GIW could figure out where he went.

Luckily for him, the circus was advertising an open position for a stunt rider, just someone to ride around the ring and do a couple of tricks for the opener, nothing too fancy. Pay, room, and board were provided, and the applicant was expected to travel with the circus and continue performing along the way.

Danny’s only doubt was actually doing the stunts. His only experience on a motorcycle had been from Johnny and he wasn’t sure how valid that was, considering Johnny had both been messing with the bike during their lesson, distracting him while Kitty stole a bunch of stuff. Danny had never been on a non-ghostly motorcycle before, but he had a scooter for a while, and he knew how to drive the GAV, the Specter Speeder, and the OPs center. Danny probably had built up a couple hundred hours in that spaceship flight simulator. He could figure it out. If not, Danny could always fudge it with his ghost powers. The GIW wouldn’t be able to get him for at least a week more, even if they did pick up his ecto-signature.

Danny spent the entire application process nervous that his fake documents would be discovered, only to have them barely glanced at other than making sure his passport wasn’t expired. The “interviewer”, an older woman with the remains of grease paint smeared on the edge of her jaw, eye bags that rivaled Danny’s own, and a cigarette hanging from the corner of her lip barely looked up at him.

“Okay, kid,” the woman started, actually looking up at him, jutting her thumb at the mess of a dirt bike behind her. “Hop on, do something cool, and don’t eat shit, and the position’s good as yours.”

Danny didn’t like the look of that machine, and he was used to the prone-to-explode technology of his parents. It was covered in dents, and the plastic pieces looked like they had lost a fight with a weed wacker. But the engine looked… mostly intact. They even gave him a helmet to wear. There was a small track set up around the parking lot where the interview was being held. He should be fine.

Danny went over to the bike while buckling the ill-fitted helmet, checking it out more closely, turning on the gas, and making sure it was ready to ride before pulling out the kickstart and swinging his leg over, trying to remember everything Johnny had taught him about motorcycles in the past, even if this was a different kind of bike. Taking a deep breath, Danny slammed his leg down on the kickstart and the engine thankfully revved to life without issue. He took a moment, revving the bike for a bit in neutral, just to warm it up, before putting up the kickstand, and shifting down into first gear and going.

It was… surprisingly easier than with Johnny, and Danny supposed it should be since he didn’t have every inconvenience happening to him at the same time. Danny sped up, up-shifting into second, then third gear, getting a feel for the clutch on the bike. Using a straight stretch of the track, he did a small wheelie, turning sharply in the turn, much tighter in a loop before finishing the turn. He weaved through some cones, only having to use his flight to catch himself from falling just once, refusing to put his feet on the ground. Picking up speed once again, Danny used the small ramp to make a jump, using a bit more of his flight to keep the bike stable while landing. He did another lap, trying to figure out what other motorcycle tricks he could try when the bike underneath him groaned. A harsh grinding noise caught Danny’s attention before the wheels locked up beneath him.

Danny let out a yelp as he was tossed over the bars, and flung clear off the bike. He twisted, instinct after being tossed around so many times through the air, to land on his feet, using more flight than he’d like to accomplish the feet, hoping that it hadn’t appeared too gravity-defying. Danny winced as the bike crashed to the ground, cringing in on himself and looking over at his interviewer.

The older woman along with a few people who had apparently shown up to spectate, were staring at Danny with wide eyes. Danny blinked.

“I didn’t eat shit.”

The older woman gave a deep, heavy sigh, while the crowd gave a polite applause, causing Danny to sheepishly smile.

“You didn’t eat shit,” the woman echoed, giving his papers a second look. “Well, kid, welcome to the circus.”

Danny gave a low groan, quiet enough that it was unable to escape his helmet now that the comm system had been shut down. He rubbed at his throat, still stinging from the volume, and longed to do the same to his ears, but alas, helmet. The volume always had his ears ringing, even through the specially crafted earplugs he had made. It took a lot of effort to be that loud for the entire performance. Hopefully, the hired hands had left him a cup of something warm and heavily caffeinated in his trailer like he requested. Some warm tea would’ve been nice for his throat, but he still had a meet and greet to get through and an act to maintain. Coffee it had to be.

Danny pulled open the door to his private trailer, fingers already hooked already around the quick-release latch of his helmet, when he found himself staring at someone who was objectively not supposed to be in his trailer. They were also not one of the circus clowns he was familiar with. He was dressed strangely, in checkers with a metal mask and matching hat on his head. He was lounging in one of the cushy armchairs Danny had. It took nearly everything he had not to immediately go for the throat.

Danny bristled at the man’s sheer presence, unsettling him deeply. Something bubbled up, not his ghost sense, but a sense of danger all the same, along with a tugging sensation far too close to his core to be okay. Danny felt his eyes flare behind his helmet, immediately pinning down the urge to hiss at the intruder and forcing himself to calm down. Danny couldn’t tell what this man was, but he wasn’t a ghost. He had spent enough time being super cautious, borderline paranoid, about outing himself as one over the years. He didn’t want to toss all that effort out the window now. But there was still an unknown part of him being tugged at by the man before him. Danny had to be cautious and avoid a fight or exposing himself at all costs.

Danny let his hands fall from his helmet and onto his hips, facade sliding back into place. Damn, just when he had gotten so close to a break. At least he still had the earplugs in.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise?! While I, the Great Skull, appreciate meeting my fans, it’s usually reserved for the meet and greets! But if you couldn’t resist coming here to meet me as soon as you possibly could, that is also understandable!” Danny exclaimed, hiding an internal wince at the volume to his already worn ears and throat.

The man in the metal hat rose from his seat, a smirk on his face, amused but rather indifferent overall. Danny’s hackles raised, but he refused to give a visible reaction. It would ruin the act after all, and this stranger was putting on one of his own.

“Well, I certainly am a fan. You’re the greatest stuntman, after all, how could I not be impressed,” the stranger acknowledged.

“Of course, of course! I have fans in every corner of the globe, and I intend to share my greatness with every one of them!” Danny falsely preened, “Still, I must ask you to wait with the rest of the adorning crowds to make my acquaintance! It’s a bit rude to intrude upon the Great Skull’s personal space, don’cha think?”

Metal Hat gave a wide smile, as if finding what he was looking for. “Of course! My apologies, I just intended to hand off an invitation, for your eyes only.”

A letter seemed to manifest from thin air, pulled from nothingness as the stranger reached out to give an ornate, off-white envelope to Danny. He could see the edges tinted by what looked to be an indigo flame. They were gone the next time Danny blinked, but burned into his memory and the envelope was still there.

Danny snatched the envelope, holding it up to his helmet’s visor to get a better look at it, but not taking his eyes off the stranger.

“I will consider your invitation! A party is absolutely needed to celebrate today’s grand accomplishment!” Danny didn't want to go. He wanted a nap.

“It will certainly be one for the ages…” Metal Hat hummed in amusement. It grated on Danny’s nerves. He was being led into something, wasn’t he?

“Then of course the Great Skull must attend or it would not be nearly as grand!”

“Then I look forward to your attendance.”

The stranger gave a tip of his ridiculous(ly) heavy hat, before letting himself saunter past Danny, and out the trailer’s only door. So close, he could see the indigo flames clinging to the man, biting at the something near his core, rubbing him the wrong way. Danny let himself bare his teeth under his helmet just to satisfy the urge. The door clicked shut.

Danny gave it a moment, no more than a second, before he kicked the door back open, letting it echo across the open space he’d been allotted, only to find no one there, and his door thoroughly removed from its hinges.

The whole place reeked of indigo.

No way in the infinite realms was he going to that party.

#danny phantom #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #dp crossover #dpcaw24 #Danny is going to be SO annoyed with himself #it's a bit he has committed to #Danny gets a motorcycle! yay!#Danny meets the hatman. A lot less yay

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