#i'll get back to sketches for asks now that i got this down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 3 months ago

Text

to you 2,000... or... 20,000 years from now… — ryomen sukuna.

As they stand to leave, his gaze drifts to one of his portraits—a work that captures a moment from another time, another life. In it, the King of Curses sits beside his beloved concubine, her expression full of light and laughter, radiant in a way that suggests an unbreakable bond. Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face. Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine. He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation;

WARNING/S: post canon, future timeline, fluff, possible romance, getting together, mild angst, reincarnation, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, dreams and nightmares, distress, grief, feelings, physical touch, character death, moving on, flashback, humor, no curse future au, pining, light-hearted, happy ending, depiction of the future, depiction of reincarnation, depiction of letting go, depiction of flashback, depiction of getting together, depiction of depiction of character death, depiction of distress, depiction of grief, mention of character death, mention of the past, mention of letting go, mention of grief, reincarnated! sukuna, reincarnated concubine! reader;

WORDS: 15k words.

NOTE: this concludes the final part of the main story of the other woman. i'm genuinely grateful for you love and attention towards my story. this was never supposed to be a series, it was supposed to be a one off fic. but because of your love for concubine reader, i was inspired to bring more to her life.

as i promised, this is a happy ending. well, the happy end that i think would suit the story. of course, this is not the end of concubine reader's story. there will be drabbles of sukuna and concubine reader's life that i never managed to put out.

if you have any suggestion or questions about the story, you can drop some words down in the inbox!!! i'm very happy when you ask questions about the story or have suggestions of what you wanna see next!!! please do so everyone!!!

i hope you look forward to them!!! thank you for reading, thank you for your support and love. i'll continue to write for you all!!! i love you <3

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW HE’LL GET THROUGH THIS. He’d never felt like this before. What do his other artist friends call it? Oh, that’s right. A slump. An artist’s slump. Yeah, that’s what it’s called. He’s never had that before.

But why should he? Ryomen Sukuna was a protege. He was a stellar artist with a golden hand, one who never stops. The one who works as though he’s running out of time. It’s him.

And yet, at that moment, he wasn’t.

Ryomen Sukuna had a problem.

He was stumped from hell and back.

And he doesn’t understand why.

A loud exhale releases from his mouth as he looks up at all the drying canvas in front of him in the various easels. They’re all beautiful, don’t get him wrong. But they’re all the same.

And that bothers Ryomen Sukuna as he purses his lips in a flat line. His own studio has become a homage to these paintings and sketches as of late. There was nothing else coming out of him. Nothing else was occupying his mind.

In the maze of half-finished canvases and dried paint of his studio, there were only those same eyes staring at him. He could feel it even now under the dim lighting casting long, wavering shadows across each and every tender gaze.

He couldn’t stand up anymore. He’s exhausted. He’s been up since god knows when. Everywhere there was paint. His hands are stained, his shirt splattered with colors that have long since dulled. It’s been weeks.

He doesn't know how to deal with this. How could he, when she finds him in every moment? How easy it was to be that way. He’s stopped keeping track of time, because time means nothing when all he can see, all he can paint, is her.

As of late, it was this that haunted him. It was the same as always. It was this woman with those kind eyes looking back at him. That same tender smile greeting him. That same beauty yearning towards him. Everything about the woman’s face consumes him. Everything that she is continues to follow him like a ghost, over and over.

He can’t even pinpoint when it started. It just started happening out of nowhere. At one point there were normal dreams and soon enough, there were something else.

And as time passed by, there was nothing else left but her. Her beautiful smiling face looking at him. Every single time, she never fails to be warm towards him. As though she could feel him, as though she could see him.

She’s become more than a fixation; she’s an infection, seeping into every corner of his mind, haunting the hours he’s awake as much as those precious few where he drifts into a broken sleep.

She first appeared in his dreams like a fleeting whisper, but her image has grown, intensifying with each passing night, filling his dreams with a crescendo of color and dread. And over and over, it was repeating.

Like a piano key stuck on the board, playing over and over that same repetitive note. And yet, it was still lovely. It was still tender. And then suddenly, it wasn’t. That was the worst part of it all, he thinks. He captures the beauty of her and then suddenly, it just disappears. It goes. Almost like smoke.

The dream is always the same every night. At first it was terrifying to him. He’d never seen anything like her before. He’d never seen what happened to her before, not to anyone. Not ever. But with her, it repeats.

That nightmare continues over and over again. And he hated it. He hated how he has memorized it. He has hated how it was all he could see over and over again. He hated how this was the fate that such a beautiful, kind woman had to meet.

That beautiful lady, she would stand there and smile at him. Often, she stands at the edge of a crumbling cliff, the ocean roiling and dark beneath her, waves crashing against jagged rocks far below.

She turns, her eyes fixed on him, lips curling into a smile that might be tender, might be mocking, it shifts each time, eluding any attempt to decipher it.

She extends a hand, beckoning, imploring him to come closer. His heart races, his feet propel him forward, but just as he reaches for her, she slips, and he’s left grasping at nothing but empty air.

Again and again, he tries to save her. Again and again, she falls.

The dream wakes him in a cold sweat, heart pounding, breath shallow. He stumbles to his studio, and without thinking, he begins to paint. Her face materializes with each stroke, her eyes holding secrets he can’t unlock.

Her smile flickering with a mystery that tightens his chest. He paints her until his fingers go numb, until his eyes blur from exhaustion. He paints her even when he’s on the verge of madness. And he hates it—hates her—but he’s powerless to stop.

The people around him have noticed the shift, though they don’t understand it. They speak of his new works with reverence, captivated by the haunting beauty of the unknown woman he’s made famous.

But they don’t see the toll she takes on him. They don’t see the shadow of sleeplessness etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the wild desperation lurking just beneath his cool exterior.

Every time he tries to paint something else. Absolutely anything else, it does not work. Not anymore. He would feel his hands freeze, his mind goes blank, and all he can see is her smile.

She’s everywhere, a ghost in his waking hours, her gaze piercing through every wall he builds to keep her out. The thrill of creation is gone; all that remains is the raw compulsion to recreate her face, an act that feels more like exorcism than art.

Ryomen Sukuna slumps back into his chair, eyes trained on the painting before him, hands limp and smeared with shades of red and soft violet. Her face, the delicate arch of her brows, the smirk teasing at her lips. All of it stares back at him, alive, taunting.

It’s as though she’s watching him, laughing softly at his obsession, fully aware of the hold she has over him. The painted eyes seem to flicker, and in his exhaustion, Sukuna wonders if he’s the one painting her, or if she’s the one reaching through the canvas, carving her image into his mind with a precision that leaves him helpless.

“Damn it. This is so annoying.” he mutters, his voice echoing hollowly in the quiet room. He reaches for his brush, the movement automatic, but his hand falters, dropping it back onto the table as he releases a frustrated sigh.

The curse feels weak, a pitiful attempt to regain some control, but he knows it’s useless. She’s an endless riddle, one he’s compelled to solve yet doomed to never fully understand.

No matter how many times he paints her, he can’t capture her—not completely. The harder he tries, the more elusive she becomes, as though she’s slipping through his fingers, mocking his every attempt.

He sits there, shoulders slouched, the steady tick of the clock filling the empty space around him. Hours blur into each other, and yet he can’t bring himself to look away, his gaze locked on her face, that faint smile hinting at secrets she will never share.

And then, just as the clock strikes midnight, he hears it. That tender voice giving him grief. That warm voice turning him cold. That voice echoed that whisper, soft as a breeze, calling his name.

“My lord…..my lord Sukuna.”

He closes his eyes, the sound reverberating through him, familiar and yet so distant. She’s there, in his mind, like an echo carried across lifetimes, the warmth of her voice stirring something deep inside.

He knows it’s a dream, an illusion conjured by his own obsession, but he doesn’t care. For a brief moment, he lets himself lean into it, lets her voice wash over him like a balm.

“My lord, my beloved lord Sukuna…” Her voice is softer this time, coaxing, filled with a strange tenderness that he’s certain only exists in his imagination. He can almost feel her fingers trailing along his cheek, the faintest touch, leaving warmth in their wake.

“What do you want from me?” he murmurs, his voice a weary plea, barely audible, as if afraid to break the fragile spell she’s cast over him. “You’re there every night, haunting me, making me see you even when I close my eyes. But what do you want?”

In his mind, her laughter echoes, soft and familiar, as if she’s toying with him. “You know what I want, my lord Sukuna. You’ve always known.”

He clenches his fists, frustration simmering beneath his skin. “Then tell me, damn it. Tell me what I need to do to set you free.”

“Set me free?” she repeats, and there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, as if the very idea amuses her. “Oh, my lord Sukuna… it’s not me who needs freeing.”

His breath hitches, her words cutting through him like a blade. The realization settles over him like a heavy weight, and he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she’s right.

She isn’t the one trapped here—he is. Bound by his own memories, his own regrets, unable to let go of the past that has woven her image into every part of him.

He opens his eyes, staring at the canvas again, her face seeming to shift. It was almost ever so easy for her to taunt him like that, to tease him. Everything about her gave him that feeling that overwhelms him. Feelings that he's never felt in his entire life.

He could feel her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sends a shiver down his spine. He reaches for the brush, hand trembling as he adds another stroke, trying to bring her into focus, to finally capture the essence of her that has haunted him. But no matter what he does, he can’t reach her, can’t grasp the fleeting vision that seems to dance just beyond his reach.

“I’ll keep painting you. I swear.” he whispers, his voice raw, laced with something close to desperation. “Every night, every dream, until you’re satisfied. Until you let me go.”

But he knows, even as the words leave his lips, that she won’t; she’ll never truly leave. She’ll linger there, a silent muse, a relentless force guiding his hand, embedding herself deeper with every brushstroke.

And he, trapped in this beautiful, maddening cycle, will keep painting her face, night after night, each canvas only revealing a fragment of her and yet never enough.

The clock ticks on, marking the hours that slip away in her wake, but he’s long since stopped noticing. She’s there, in every line, every shadow, every flicker of light on the canvas.

She’s his prison, his muse, his madness—and he knows, even as he tries to break free, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

══════════════════

BY THIS POINT, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINISHED WITH HIS COLLECTION. Usually, Ryomen Sukuna finishes his pieces weeks ahead, leaving everyone else; especially Gojo Satoru—scrambling to catch up. Well, perhaps because he usually doesn’t work until he stops messing about.

Still, the rivalry is a running joke among their peers. Gojo Satoru would tease him endlessly, his voice loud and mocking. “The world might as well end if you didn’t finish first, Ryomen Sukuna. I’d have to check if hell froze over.”

Gojo Satoru would say with that infuriating grin, and Sukuna would just roll his scarlet eyes, barely dignifying it with a response. He didn’t need to—he’d simply outdo him, his work claiming the prime spot at the National Gallery, cycle after cycle. That’s just how it works for them.

But now, as the days tick by and his canvas remains trapped in this maddening loop, the weight of that old joke feels heavier. Maybe it would be better if the world did end, he muses grimly, his frustration boiling under the surface. Each day that he fails to paint anything else, fails to break free from this woman’s image—drains him.

Every line, every shadow, every detail is etched with painstaking care, and yet each piece feels incomplete. He lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes narrowing as he looks once more at the canvas, the same haunting face staring back.

Another artist would leave the piece for a day, perhaps even a week, and come back with fresh eyes. But not Sukuna. He’s stubborn, relentless. Yet this time, it feels as though he’s been bested, and that thought is infuriating.

A soft knock sounds at the studio door, but he doesn’t respond. The door creaks open, and he doesn’t need to look up to know who it is—he can practically feel Gojo Satoru’s grin from across the room. This was a rare visit from his rival and somewhat friend. But, he already regrets giving him his address.

“Not done yet?” Gojo drawls, strolling in with a lazy confidence, hands shoved into his pockets. “Well, this must be it—the end of the world. Should I start making apocalypse preparations?”

“Leave, Satoru.” Sukuna mutters, his voice a low growl. But Gojo just chuckles, unperturbed.

“Can’t. I live wayyyyyy tooo far. Besides, I came all this way to see the fall of the great Ryomen Sukuna. And boy, is it a sight.” Gojo steps closer, his gaze shifting to the canvas. “Her again, huh? Your mystery woman? I thought you were done with her!”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “Say another word, and you’ll be painting with your own blood.”

Gojo just laughs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the wall. “Fine, fine. But it’s… interesting, don’t you think? You, stuck on the same image, over and over. And all of this because of one woman.”

Sukuna can feel his patience fraying, each word from Gojo Satoru like sandpaper on a wound that refuses to heal. But Gojo doesn’t stop, his tone shifting from mocking to genuinely curious. It’s already giving him a headache.

“So, bestie……” he says, a glint in his bright blue eyes. “Who is she? A muse? Some long-lost love? Because whatever it is, you’re about to drive yourself mad over her.”

“She’s nothing.” Sukuna says sharply, but the words lack conviction. He doesn’t want to dive into it. Especially for Gojo Satoru. He’d only try to make it all a joke and laugh about it. “Just a woman. Just a damn face that refuses to disappear.”

Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow. “Nothing? Could’ve fooled me, seeing as she’s all you’ve painted for weeks. Either she’s ‘just a woman,’ or she’s haunting you.”

Sukuna clenches his fists, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I can’t… get her out of my head, no matter how many times I try. It’s like she’s taunting me. Every stroke feels like a chase, and I can’t catch her.”

For once, Gojo’s grin fades, a shadow of understanding passing over his face. “So that’s it, huh? You’ve finally found a challenge you can’t conquer. Even after all these years.”

Sukuna scowls, eyes narrowing. “It’s not a challenge. It’s… more than that.” His voice trails off as he glances at the painting, his expression a mixture of longing and frustration.

“Then stop,” Gojo says bluntly. “If she’s driving you insane, stop trying to capture her. Paint something else. Anything else. Get back to your work, to the craft that’s kept you sane all this time.”

But Sukuna only shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the canvas. “It’s not that simple, Satoru. I can’t stop. I need to understand… Why is she here? Why does she keep coming back to me?”

Gojo sighs, running a hand through his bright snow colored hair, clearly torn between amusement and pity. “Well, I can’t say I envy you. But maybe you should try looking beyond the canvas, for once.”

Sukuna scoffs, though a hint of doubt creeps into his expression. “You think there’s anything outside this room that could give me answers?”

Gojo shrugs. “Who knows? Sometimes the answers we need are the ones we’re not looking for. But if this is what’s keeping you chained…” he nods towards the door, his voice lowering, “then maybe it’s time to find out why.”

Ryomen Sukuna says nothing, his gaze flicking between Gojo and the woman’s face on the canvas. And as Gojo slips out the door with a knowing smile, Sukuna feels the weight of his words lingering, as if daring him to break free of the chains he’s crafted for himself.

Gojo Satoru stayed in his studio for a while; the entire time his head hurt. But he couldn’t help admitting that his frustration was put on hold and that he was grateful for it. Annoying as he was, it was better than suffering what he had been suffering with the woman that haunts him.

But when Gojo Satoru leaves, he finds himself unable to leave either. From the night before, he hadn’t really found himself to sleep. But if he was still being honest, he really doesn’t think he made any progress from the ones he had already made that he feels happy about.

Well, except perhaps three more additions to his deluded dreams of this woman. He couldn’t stop with that. That was not something he could enjoy. It didn’t look good. He didn’t think it was the best he had ever done. He looks at his canvas again and squints his eyes. It was as though he was hoping that he had painted something else. But he knew he hadn’t. There was no need to double check.

Okay, well, he should be more honest — it’s four now. This is the fourth one. The fourth one for a while and it’s only past lunch time the next day. Wait, is it really lunch time? He looked around again and saw his clock. His mouth agape in shock. It’s already been a whole day? It’s already the blue hour? What the actual fuck is going on?

He groans as he puts down his paintbrush and covers his face with his hands. A loud groan echoes against his skin, reflecting that bitterness he feels. He was going mad, he’s genuinely sure that he’s really going mad. This time for real. The world is ending and he’s going mad.

Once more, Ryomen Sukuna sits slumped in his studio chair, the dim, cold light from the nearby cityscape casting a pallor over his face. How can this be possible? He's rubbing his temples, staring at yet another drying and yet truly unfinished portrait of her when a familiar voice cuts through his brooding. Ryomen Sukuna turned his back and turned it back once more, just as quickly.

Fuck, its Uraume.

Shit, shit. Is it already that time?

He hasn’t messaged them for two days.

How the fuck is he going to survive—

“Sukuna–san, you have the exhibition in two weeks, you know that!” Uraume reminds him, waking over with their tone both gentle and insistent. They’re standing at the edge of the cluttered studio, arms crossed, their eyes flicking between Sukuna and the growing stack of canvases lining the walls. “Everyone’s expecting new work, Sukuna–san. You can’t just say you aren’t producing anything when this is—”

He cuts them off with a frustrated wave of his hand, as if trying to dismiss both them and the exhibition out of his mind. “I know, I know, Uraume–san. You already know that I know. Don’t you think I know? I just…… What’s the point of even going here? It’s not…it’s not finished—nothing is complete.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to be telling me—”

“I know, I know.” His voice trails off, heavy with exhaustion. He looks at the half-finished canvas before him, her familiar eyes staring back, mocking him. “Look, I need time. Okay? Just a little more time to get over it. I promise. It will be done soon.”

Uraume steps carefully, sidestepping the mess of brushes, scattered paint, and half-finished canvases that litter the studio floor. Their usual calm is tinged with a hint of bewilderment, their brows furrowing as they glance over at Ryomen Sukuna, who sits slouched in his chair, staring blankly at the portrait before him.

This is the first time they’ve seen him like this—so unfocused, so… lost. It’s unnerving. For as long as they’ve known him, Sukuna was always in control, his power and his confidence absolute. Nothing stumped him; nothing could shake him from his single-minded determination.

And yet, here he is, surrounded by portraits of a woman they’ve never met, trapped in a spiral of obsession that they don’t understand.

“Get over what, exactly?” Uraume asks, a soft but firm edge to their voice, breaking the silence that has grown heavy in the room. “The exhibition is practically sold out already. You are the star of this show—you know that.”

They hesitate, crossing their arms as they study his profile. “If you let yourself slip now, you’re going to lose everything. They expect something… groundbreaking, something other than…”

Their voice trails off as they catch sight of another painting, and then another; all of them of her. Each one shows a different expression, a different tilt of her head, a different light in her eyes, but always the same haunting face. Uraume’s gaze lingers on the latest painting, her smirk, subtle yet all-consuming, as if she’s daring anyone who looks at her to understand.

They shake their heads slowly, exhaling in frustration. “This obsession of yours…” They struggle for the right words, their gaze hardening as they glance back at him. “I don’t understand it. Who is she? And why are you letting her control you like this?”

Sukuna looks up, his expression weary, but there’s a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes, a glint that only appears when he’s truly challenged. “You wouldn’t understand, Uraume–san.” he mutters, his voice low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “No one would. Not unless you felt what she did to me.”

Uraume raises a brow, taken aback. This isn’t like him—this vulnerability, this almost painful honesty. They’ve seen Sukuna bring cities to their knees, watched him command fear and respect with the simplest look, but now? Now, he looks more like a man haunted than a man in control.

“Then tell me, Sukuna–san.” Uraume says, their voice softening slightly, more curious than before. “What is it about her? Why does she matter so much?”

He leans back, a bitter smile crossing his lips. “It’s like… no matter how many times I paint her, she’s always out of reach, Uraume–san.” he says, his eyes flicking to the painting in front of him, the smirk that never changes. “Every stroke, every color—it’s as if she’s taunting me, daring me to try again, knowing I’ll never capture her.”

There’s a pause, the weight of his words settling between them, thick and tangible. Uraume takes a step back, their expression wavering. They’re used to seeing Sukuna drive toward a goal with relentless force, breaking anything that stands in his way. But this? This is something else. Something they can’t touch.

“Is she worth all this?” Uraume asks, more gently than they intended. “Worth losing your edge, your control?” They gesture to the canvases around them. “If she’s haunting you this much, perhaps it’s time to let her go.”

A dark laugh escapes Sukuna, low and humorless. “Let her go?” he repeats, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I’ve tried, Uraume–san. But she’s there, every time I close my eyes. And I can’t…” He stops himself, the words caught in his throat. “She won’t let me go.”

Uraume watches him, feeling a pang of something they can’t quite name—pity, perhaps, or fear for what this fixation could mean for him. They take a step forward, daring to place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re stronger than this, Sukuna–san.” they say softly, but firmly. “Whatever hold she has over you, it doesn’t control you. You’re the one in charge here, remember?”

For a moment, Sukuna seems to consider their words, a flicker of clarity in his eyes. But then he glances back at the canvas, at her knowing smile, and his face hardens, as if he’s resigned to the fact that he’s already lost.

“I thought so too, Uraume–san.” he murmurs, barely loud enough for Uraume to hear. “But I’m beginning to wonder… maybe she’s the one painting me.”

Uraume watches him in silence, feeling the cold truth of his words settle between them. They realize, in that moment, that they may be witnessing the unraveling of the man they thought was unbreakable. And for the first time, they wonder if he can even escape from the shadows of his own creation.

Sukuna follows their gaze, feeling a surge of irritation and helplessness. “It’s not that simple, Uraume–san. God, it’s just….” he mutters, running a hand through his messy fuschia hair, which is starting to look as unruly as he feels.

“She’s—she’s everywhere to me. And maybe that’s why she’s always here. Every time I try to start something else, there she is. Like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.”

He glances at Uraume, searching their face for some flicker of understanding. “Don’t you get it? I need to work through this. You can’t just snap your fingers and make it go away. If I had magic, it would have been fine, but I just….”

“Then maybe make her part of it.” Uraume replies, unphased by his frustration. “People will want to see this obsession—whatever it is. But they won’t be satisfied with half-finished canvases of the same face over and over.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing, as if movement will shake off the weight pressing down on him. “It’s not an obsession,” he says, though the words sound hollow, even to him. “I just need… time. To figure this out. To move past her.”

Uraume watches him with a calm patience that only irritates him further. “You’ve had time, Sukuna-san. And every day, I’ve watched you do nothing but chase shadows.” They gesture to the rows of unfinished canvases, the dozens of faces that all share her haunting expression.

“Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.”

Sukuna clenches his jaw, feeling the heat rise in his chest. He hates that Uraume, of all people, might be right. But how could he go deeper when she’s already consuming him? They should know that this is not what he needs right now. He needs support about this trying situation. He needs kindness about this. He needs—

He turns his eyes slightly and soon enough, they land on the first portrait he’s drawn of her. It was rough around the edges, it was true. But he was trying really hard to capture what he had found in her. He thought he would never see her again. That first time, it was all too interesting. Because he thought he would never see her again. And her smile would have been everything even that one time.

That once would have been enough, it would have fulfilled him whole enough. That one portrait, that first one — it would have been enough for Ryomen Sukuna to feel like someone was always going to look at him kindly.

That someone would always look at him with such tender eyes. He purses his lips in a line. Here she was. Once again, staring into his soul. Frozen in time. Looking towards him as though he was the world. As though life can only be known through looking at him. He gulped.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” he says finally, forcing his voice to steady. “Just… let me handle it my way.”

Uraume sighs, a long, exasperated sound. “Fine. But remember, Sukuna–san, time waits for no one. Especially not for you.”

And with that, they turn, leaving him alone once more in his dimly lit prison, with nothing but her face and the ticking of the clock to keep him company. Ryomen Sukuna could not move anymore for a while. He couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him like that.

The echoes of the night pangs into the slumber of the bright starry sky, and the silence in Ryomen Sukuna’s studio is absolute, broken only by the occasional soft creak of his chair or the quiet scratch of his brush against the canvas. And he despises it. Usually, he would be happy about that. It helps him focus on his work.

Yet, he’s almost afraid to move or make more noise or appease the silence with his enjoyment. Ryomen Sukuna was afraid that if he does, he’ll break the spell that’s settled over him, the fragile connection that’s come alive between him and her.

This ghostly woman, this chasing woman who has rooted herself so deeply in his psyche. He knows she’s not real, and yet every inch of him feels as if she’s in the room with him, closer than a shadow, more vivid than any memory.

The woman on the canvas feels different this time. He’s pushed past the limits of his frustration and reached a depth of expression that feels raw, unnerving. Her face, no longer a series of lifeless shapes and colors, seems to breathe on the canvas.

Her smile is softer now, her eyes almost… knowing. But the knowing isn’t comforting; it unsettles him, strikes some primal nerve deep inside. He steps back, shaking his head as if to clear it, to dispel the irrational thought that she’s looking back at him with intent, with purpose.

But even standing back, even half-closing his eyes, he can’t unsee her. She seems more real than ever before, like he’s peeled away another layer, only to find her hiding deeper within. He feels his heart beat faster, a slow wave of dread creeping into his veins. How can a face he created himself feel so alive? So sentient?

He backs away from the canvas, his hands covered in paint, feeling a chill settle over him. He’s been pushing himself to exhaustion these past few weeks, painting her in every possible way, but this—this feels different, like he’s crossed an invisible line. For the first time, the compulsion to paint her is laced with fear.

Still, he can’t look away. Her presence fills the room, and he feels the weight of it like a physical force. His eyes roam over her face: the faint shadows around her eyes, the suggestion of pain hidden in the tilt of her lips, the look of sorrow mingling with defiance. Each detail tells a story he’s not sure he wants to know, yet he’s desperate to understand it.

Uraume’s words echo in his mind again: Maybe you don’t need to get past her. Maybe you need to go deeper, to figure out what she’s trying to tell you.

He shudders, the thought reverberating through him. What if this woman, this apparition, isn’t just an accident of his imagination? What if she’s here for a reason, some purpose he’s been too afraid to uncover?

He recalls the dreams—the cliff, the ocean raging below, the way she extends her hand to him with that haunting smile, beckoning him forward only to disappear again and again. It’s always the same. He can’t save her, but he can’t let her go.

He’s always believed that his art comes from somewhere deep within him, from emotions he doesn’t fully understand, from memories he can’t articulate. But this feels different to him. He had never dealt with this before.

It was almost as if it’s coming from outside of him, as though she’s reaching through the boundary of his mind, using his hands as a conduit. He lets out a shaky breath, clutching the paint-stained edge of his workbench. Is this woman, this image, an echo from his past? A ghost? Or something darker, something he’s unlocked without meaning to?

The thought stirs something in him, a strange, unexplainable pull to keep going, to lose himself in this process of bringing her fully to life. He walks back to the canvas, hand trembling as he picks up his brush once more.

This time, he paints her hand, reaching out, as if extending toward him. The fingers are delicate, almost ghostly, and he layers shadows beneath them, giving them depth, weight. He works until the details blur, until his vision is smeared with exhaustion.

He steps back again, chest tight. Her hand stretches toward him now, inviting him, her fingers just a breath away. The air in the room feels thick, electric, as if she’s drawing him closer, beckoning him to cross some unseen line. He reaches out instinctively, the tips of his fingers barely brushing the canvas.

In that instant, a shiver courses through him, the chill going bone-deep. He feels his hand pull back, but it’s as if something is holding it there, holding him in place. His heart races. He hears the ticking of the clock, each tick louder, more insistent. The woman on the canvas seems closer now, her eyes sharper, more alive, her expression shifting as though she’s on the edge of speaking.

He tears his hand away, stumbling backward, the sudden movement jarring him back to himself. His studio comes into focus, the familiar mess of paint and brushes scattered around, the quiet hum of the city outside. But she’s still there, her face on the canvas, watching him with that faint, knowing smile.

His heart still pounding, he grabs his coat and stumbles out of the studio, leaving her behind, feeling her gaze burning into his back even as he shuts the door. The air outside is cold, crisp, and he gulps it down, trying to shake off the feeling that he’s walked out of a nightmare he can’t wake from.

But even as he steps into the city streets, even as the lights and the noise surround him, he can still see her in his mind, as clearly as if she were standing beside him.

And he knows, with a strange certainty, that no matter how far he runs, she’ll be waiting for him, waiting in the studio, in his dreams, until he finally dares to confront whatever truth she holds.

══════════════════

HE REALLY CAN’T HELP IT. Ryomen Sukuna’s heart hammers in his chest, louder than the muffled hum of voices in the museum, louder than the memories raging through his mind. He stands frozen, his scarlet eyes locked onto her.

This was the woman from his dreams, the face he painted until his hands went numb, until his sanity frayed. The woman he has known is like the back of his hand. She’s here, in the flesh, not on a canvas or a hazy memory, but real, close enough to reach out and touch. And yet, at this moment, she feels farther away than ever.

The woman doesn’t notice him. Of course she wouldn’t have. Why would she? He doesn’t expect her to know what he’s feeling now. She’s oblivious to the storm her presence has unleashed in his chest, the way his pulse spikes as he watches her, every nerve in his body caught between reaching for her and running away.

She’s gazing intently at the displays, her head tilting thoughtfully as she studies each artifact, and with each subtle movement, she reminds him achingly of her—of the woman he’d known in that past life, his concubine, the one he’d lost so long ago. She has that same air of quiet intensity, that gentle focus, the same soft curiosity he remembers.

And then she steps closer to the display holding the hairpin. That hairpin—the one he’d given to his concubine as a symbol of the promise he couldn’t keep, the one she had treasured even on the darkest nights, when the weight of their hidden love had pressed heavy upon them both. The hairpin he’d clasped in her hair before she was taken from him.

The sight of it had been a punch to the gut even before he saw her. But now, watching this woman—a stranger, yet painfully familiar—reach out as though to touch the glass, Sukuna feels something crack open inside him, a wound he’d buried lifetimes ago tearing fresh and raw.

She lifts her hand, her fingers hovering near the glass, her eyes lingering on the hairpin with a look he recognizes—sadness, longing, nostalgia she can’t possibly understand.

Her face is calm, her expression serene, but he knows that look, knows that feeling. Does she feel it too? Does she feel the echo of something lost, something distant yet so deeply embedded in her soul?

His own hand trembles at his side. He wants to go to her, to pull her aside, to demand to know if she remembers, if somewhere in her heart she feels that same aching void he’s carried for centuries. But the reality sinks in, cold and unyielding: to her, he’s a stranger.

She has no idea who he is. She doesn’t remember their stolen moments under moonlight, their whispered vows, the quiet, forbidden love that had bound them tighter than any promise. She doesn’t remember his face, doesn’t know the agony he’s endured, living each lifetime haunted by her ghost, painting her face in the desperate hope it might bring her back.

And yet, the hairpin calls to her. He watches her, rooted to the spot, as she studies it with a reverence she can’t name, can’t explain, an inexplicable connection to something lost to time. He can almost see the weight of her past life hovering over her like a shadow she doesn’t even know is there.

Sukuna’s fingers twitch, aching to touch her, to break this unbearable silence and tell her everything: that he’s waited lifetimes for her, that he’s dreamed of her every night, that every stroke of his brush was a desperate attempt to remember her, to reach her, to feel even an echo of what they once had. But how could he explain that? How could he unload centuries of grief, of longing, on her shoulders, when she doesn’t even know his name?

She turns, moving slowly to the next display. But for a single heartbeat, her gaze drifts in his direction. Their eyes meet, and in that split second, the air thickens, everything around him falling away. Her eyes—those same eyes, dark and deep, full of questions and secrets—fix on him, and he feels the weight of their shared history settle like a heavy cloak over them both.

He watches as something flickers in her gaze, an almost imperceptible flash of recognition. She blinks, and it’s gone, but he clings to it, desperate. Did she feel it, even if only for a moment? Did she feel the weight of a life before, a life they shared, a love they lost?

But she turns away, her brows furrowing slightly, as if shaking off a strange thought, and the moment shatters, leaving him stranded in a sea of regret and unspoken words. She disappears around the corner, her silhouette swallowed by the shadows of the exhibit.

A bitter pang cuts through him, deeper than anything he’s felt in centuries. She’s here, alive, within his reach, and yet she’s still lost to him. He’s still haunted by the echo of her smile, the shadow of her memory, the woman he could never save.

Slowly, Ryomen Sukuna forces himself to step away, his gaze lingering on the hairpin. He clenches his fists, feeling the familiar sting of regret, of promises broken, of lives tangled and torn apart.

He’d thought he was prepared to face her, though he could handle the pain that would come with seeing her again. But the reality is raw and relentless, tearing open old wounds he thought were healed.

In that moment, he was the only one who knew the truth: he’ll always be trapped in this cycle, drawn to her only to watch her slip away. No matter how many times he finds her, she’ll always be just out of reach, a dream he can never wake from.

Ryomen Sukuna’s heart nearly stops when he feels a soft hand on his arm, drawing him back to the present. His present. In front of this woman, this woman who haunted him with everything and anything in him.

“Are you… okay?” the woman asks, her voice gentle, her eyes warm with concern.

He’s stunned, his breath catching as he looks down at her, the stranger with the face he’s known all too well, the stranger who feels like a ghost comes to life. But he forces himself to gather his thoughts, to act like this is a normal interaction with a stranger, even though every nerve in his body feels charged with recognition.

“Ah… yes, I’m….I’m good.” he finally says, his voice rough but steady. “I just find the gallery… interesting.” The words feel absurdly inadequate, but it’s the only thing he can manage.

A small smile breaks over her lips, and the sight of it sends a sharp pang through him. It’s so familiar, so achingly familiar, that he has to clench his fists to keep himself grounded. She glances around the exhibit, her expression softening with a hint of pride.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, stranger.” she says. “It was… hard to tell the story. To do it justice, I mean.” Her gaze returns to his, warm and inviting. “I’m a Mikoto, by the way. A descendant of Hiromi.”

He feels his heart stop at the name, and it takes him a beat to respond. “Ryomen… Ryomen Sukuna, that’s my name.” he says, his voice catching slightly as he introduces himself.

He could only watch as her eyes widened in surprise, and she studied him, the weight of recognition glinting faintly in her gaze, though she didn't seem to realize its true depth. She probably did not expect him to have that name, that exact name, also.

“A descendant of Hiromi, too?” she asks with a soft laugh, her expression open, friendly. When he doesn’t answer, she shakes her head with a lighthearted smile. “It’s okay. The family’s too big for everyone to know where they come from anyway.”

He nods stiffly, a bit overwhelmed, struggling to keep his composure as memories flicker before him. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he aches to tell her, but he swallows it all down, letting the silence sit between them, as heavy as it is fragile.

Then, gathering his nerve, he glances at her. “Can I… can I ask you something about the exhibit? About Ryomen Sukuna?”

She tilts her head, curious. “Of course, you can.” she says. “But fair warning—it’s going to be a long story. A sad story.”

He meets her gaze, and in that moment, he sees a flicker of recognition in her eyes, something deep and familiar that calls to him. He nods. “That’s okay.” he says softly. “I think I need to hear it.”

She studies him a moment, as if trying to understand his need to know. Judging from her own reaction, it's a difficult story to even try and tell. But he was curious. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he wanted to know so badly.

He wanted to know more than anything how these two people lived. How she lived, that woman in his dreams — the woman right in front of him. He looks at her tenderly, curiously. And she nods, a quiet understanding in her expression.

“Ryomen Sukuna… and his concubine. Their stories are really not easy. Nor is her own. His concubine’s story is difficult. She led a long, sad life. They were together for a long time, longer than Sukuna and Hiromi were wed.” Her eyes lowered, the sight gleaming with sorrow as she touched the glass, trying to reach for the hairpin.

“She was devoted to him, in all the ways that one could describe devotion. And yet….she suffered under him… Quite a lot, if we’re to be honest. She gave him a son and she lost him and his indifference at times, it broke her.” She hesitates, glancing at him before continuing. “Though in his own way, he loved her. But well, was it enough? We cannot truly tell. From what we know from Ryomen Chiharu, she died without knowing. But perhaps, those are claims.”

The words pierce him like a knife. Hearing it from her lips, from her gentle voice, makes it all feel too real. The bitterness, the heartbreak, the weight of it all surges within him, yet he can’t look away from her. Is that what she has had to live through all that time? Was it only the heartbreak she had lived through? In that past life, in her past life — was it just grief born out of more, one after the other? Is that why she kept falling to her death? Suffering in all that pain?

“If he had loved her then….” Sukuna could feel some sense of anger bubble through him. “Why is it not ever clear, his feelings? If you love someone, you….you tell them! You make them know when they’re alive. Not when they’re gone! What kind of man is he? Is he even a man at that point? That’s cruel….That’s…..”

In that moment, her eyes turned wide as she gazed at him. She had seen people get angry on behalf of the long suffering concubine of the King of Curses. That was normal, to feel anguish on her behalf. And yet, this mayhaps is the first time he’s ever seen someone so infuriated. And aggrieved. And bitter. Truly, in the sense of the word. Her heart felt warm about that.

She smiles softly at him and places her hand on his own. “You know….he still did care. Even if he was a terrible man. In some ways.”

“Even then—”

“Come with me, stranger!” she says, her voice soft as she takes his hand, her touch sending an electric shock through him. She leads him to a long table draped in dark fabric, a single scroll lying open at the center. It was a magnificent piece of work.

In the middle was her, that concubine. With her elegant features and her bright eyed gaze, her tender smile that could bring life to a mundane world. The colors illuminated her with such ethereality that one couldn’t even understand. It would have taken much too much time to do this in their lifetime, during the Heian Era.

And yet, it was so carefully made, carefully thought of. So full of devotion to her, details that one couldn’t even find in any other portraiture in that time. Sukuna could only watch as her fingers glide along its edge with a reverence that pulls him in, as though she’s sharing a secret between them. Her smile grows wider.

“This is painted and written by Sukuna himself, mayhaps, a few years before she passed.” she whispers, her eyes shining as she looks at him. “We don’t know, if he had painted and made this in secret. Or if she had known and seen it. But….it was to her… a message. From him to her.”

The scroll is faded, ink blurred by age but unmistakable. And as Sukuna reads it, he feels his breath leave him, his pulse racing as he takes in the words he never thought he’d see again. In ancient script, barely visible, are the words he remembers writing so many lifetimes ago, a promise that felt foolish and desperate even as he wrote it:

“To you, my little one, from a thousand years to another twenty thousand years from now, you who will continue to be dear to me.”

His vision blurs, and he forces himself to swallow down the ache rising in his chest. How is that man ever so contradictory? How could he cause her hurt and then do…do something like this? How can one ever make amends, or show love, knowing they had caused grief and pain and suffering?

He purses his lips, his face echoing in conflict. He could feel his hand tighten in a fist. The woman he saw in his dreams, and the woman he sees before him now. How they both suffered to get to this point.

That smile a thousand years ago, so gentle and yet….so pained. And now, so beautiful and serene, happy. Truly so happy. He couldn’t help but be so overwhelmed by emotion. By all of this. She looks up at him, her face soft with empathy and warmth, her hand still resting lightly on his arm.

“What kind of person do you think could write something like that?” she asks gently, studying his reaction.

He swallows, searching for the right words, his voice barely a whisper. “Someone who knew… he’d never find peace without her.” he says, almost to himself, his gaze lingering on the scroll. “Someone… who wanted more time.”

Her eyes meet his, something unspoken passing between them, a quiet understanding that hangs thick in the air. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression shifts, her gaze softening, as if she’s sensing something she can’t quite place, something from another life pressing against the present.

In that moment, he knows he can’t tell her, can’t burden her with the weight of it all. This life may not hold the memory, the pain, the love he’d lost, but here she stands, still at his side. The universe, fate, something unknown has brought them here, and for now, in this fragile moment, it’s enough.

Sukuna’s mind swirls, each beat of his heart drumming louder against the silence that now surrounds them. The faint traces of this man’s ancient words—his promise, his plea—are scrawled on the scroll, untouched by time.

The weight of it feels unbearable, as if this fragile piece of paper holds not just a message from the past but the entirety of his soul. He risks a glance at her, the woman with his concubine’s face, her warmth, her spirit.

She’s watching him with an intensity that pulls him back from his reverie. “I wonder if he ever found her, if he was ever reborn and given new life.” she murmurs, more to herself than to him. “If… across all that time, they somehow managed to find each other again. And are more truthful to each other. I always thought that, even when I was a child. I hoped and prayed that they found happiness together in a new life.”

Her words send a chill down his spine. He wants to tell her they did, that he’s standing here, right now, because of her. But he knows he can’t—no matter how much his heart aches to reach out, to let her in on the truth he’s carried alone for so long. The curse of knowing, of remembering, is his burden alone.

Instead, he lets his fingers drift across the edge of the scroll, keeping his gaze lowered. “Maybe he never stopped searching. Even if he is reborn. Maybe if he doesn’t remember it all. He should find her and make amends.” he says softly. “Maybe that’s why his name and his memory linger even now. So that she’ll notice. And…maybe they’ll live the way you want them to.”

She tilts her head, considering him, her smile touched with the slightest hint of sadness. “That’s a beautiful thought. Almost… almost as if he’s still out there, waiting. Even if he had to endure every lifetime alone.”

Sukuna swallows, struggling to keep his composure. “Sometimes, we don’t have a choice, about it all.” he says, his voice low. “We’re bound by memories we can’t remember, by the promises our futures will have to remake, even if we have to carry them alone.”

She studies him for a moment, her expression thoughtful, as if she’s trying to glimpse the truth beneath his words. “That sounds like something he would have said, perhaps….perhaps to her.” she murmurs, almost to herself.

The weight of her gaze feels like a hand pressing against his heart, pulling him toward her, tethering him in a way that feels more ancient than memory. But she turns her attention back to the scroll, breaking the spell, and a soft smile touches her lips as she reads the words he once wrote.

“You know,” she says after a pause, “my family used to tell stories about Sukuna. He’s more of a legend now than a real person, but there are so many conflicting tales. Some say he was ruthless, others say he was capable of great kindness. I’ve always been fascinated by that contradiction.” She glances up at him, eyes alight with curiosity. “What do you think? Was he a monster… or was he something more?”

Sukuna’s breath catches at the question, the answer sitting like a stone in his throat. How can he possibly explain that the truth was more complicated than either legend or history could capture? That he was both and neither, a man torn by his own humanity and haunted by a love he couldn’t protect?

“It’s hard to say what he was.” he answers carefully. “Maybe he was both. A monster to some, but to others… he was someone who gave everything he had. No one is….no one is truly a villain, after all.”

She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “I like that answer.” she says quietly. “I think we all have pieces of light and shadow inside us. Maybe he was just… someone trying to find a balance, even if he had caused so much hurt. Even if he had failed.”

The irony cuts deep, the tragic poetry of her words like salt in an old wound. Her voice is gentle, but there’s a conviction in her tone that makes his chest tighten. If she knew the truth—if she knew what he’d lost, the sacrifices he’d made—would she still look at him this way, with this soft reverence and understanding?

Lost in thought, he hardly notices her reaching for his hand. Her fingers wrap around his, warm and grounding, and he’s stunned by the simple, natural ease of her touch, as though they’ve done this a thousand times before. Her hand fits perfectly in his, and for the first time in centuries, a glimmer of hope stirs within him.

“Come with me again, stranger.” she says, leading him past the scroll and into a smaller room at the end of the hall. “There’s something else I want you to see.”

They walk in silence, and he lets her guide him, his heart racing, wondering if perhaps, just maybe, she’s starting to feel the pull too—the invisible thread binding them across lifetimes. She stops in front of a display case holding a small, intricately carved pendant, its silver chain gleaming under the soft lights.

“This pendant, it was passed down to Ryomen Chiharu, after a few years.” she says, gazing at it with a fondness that surprises him. “It belonged to her. His concubine. One of the only things she kept close to her heart.”

Sukuna stares at it, his mind reeling. The pendant was once his gift to her, that King of Curses—a token, a promise of protection. Seeing it now, preserved and cared for, feels surreal, a whisper of the life they once shared. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, his voice thick with emotion he’s barely keeping in check.

He wondered, maybe if it was the right time, the right place. If he hadn’t been so enthralled with another — maybe it would have been a match that would have ended with less pain and more joy. Perhaps if the King of Curses had found himself able to move forward, he would have been happier. Maybe his concubine would have been happier.

But that was a thousand years ago. And humanity keeps making that same mistake. Little by little, you could find people repeating it over and over again. That makes Sukuna so bitter and sad, grievous and angry all at once. How could fate be so twisted? How could fate seem so indifferent to it all? How could…how could fate not stop such suffering of people who wish to be happy?

“I always thought it was sad, you know?” she continued, her tone soft. “She must have known he’d never be hers completely. But she still kept this close to her heart. Thinking of him. It’s like she never stopped hoping.”

Sukuna’s throat tightens, the weight of her words pressing into the raw ache within him. “Hope….hope is fragile.” he echoes, his voice hollow. “It can be a painful thing to carry, especially when there’s no chance of seeing it fulfilled.”

Her gaze turns up to him, searching, as though she can sense the depth of his grief but can’t name its source. “Maybe.” she says, her voice a whisper. “But sometimes… hope is all we have.”

He looks away, afraid she’ll see the truth in his eyes. He wonders if she understands, if somewhere deep down, a part of her remembers. But even if she doesn’t, he can feel her empathy, her gentle warmth reaching out to him, soothing his restless spirit.

She squeezes his hand, her touch gentle and grounding. “Thank you,” she says, smiling softly. “For listening to her story with me. I know it’s heavy, but… it’s part of our legacy, isn’t it?”

He nods, his heart raw and open, feeling the weight of the centuries fall away, even if just for this fleeting moment. It’s not enough—not enough to heal the wounds, to bring back what they’d lost—but for the first time, he feels something close to peace.

And in that silence, in her quiet smile, he dares to hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be a way to find and know each other again. She was right there. He likes to think she is. Right in front of him. There was hope, somehow.

That she would be happy. That maybe, just maybe – he could see her smile so beautifully again. A smile that would reach all the way to her eyes and warm her face and towards the reach of all the heavens.

Sukuna stands there, his fingers still brushing the edge of the glass case, the pendant gleaming faintly beneath his touch. He feels an unfamiliar warmth stirring within him, a strange, hesitant urge for something… more, something real and tangible. He looks down at her, her expression still soft with that quiet empathy that unsettles him as much as it comforts him.

Before he can second-guess himself, he clears his throat, casting a sidelong glance her way. “Would you, uh… would you like to grab a coffee sometime?” he asks, a bit gruffly, as if trying to sound casual. “Maybe you could help me with some ideas for my art. I’m….an artist by the way. ”

The question hangs in the air between them, and for a moment, he feels exposed in a way he hasn’t in centuries, like he’s offering a piece of himself he’s long since hidden. He braces himself for rejection, for her to smile politely and turn him down.

Sukuna watches her smile, a genuine, radiant expression that spreads across her face like dawn breaking over a darkened sky. It’s infectious, igniting something deep within him, as though it was a feeling that has lain dormant for centuries beneath layers of pain and regret.

Everything in him felt warm inside. Everything in him grasped to life, hoping that she could nourish it to last forever. Her acceptance feels like a lifeline thrown into the stormy sea of his existence, and he clings to it with a desperation he can’t quite articulate.

“Tomorrow sounds perfect, stranger.” she says, her voice a gentle balm against the jagged edges of his heart. “Oh, I should stop calling you that, shouldn’t I? My apologies, Sukuna–san. I wanted to tease you for a little more time.”

As she writes her number on a slip of paper, the world around them fades into a blur. The museum, the exhibits, the weight of history—all of it dissolves until it’s just the two of them, suspended in this fragile moment of connection.

He takes the paper from her, fingers brushing against hers for the briefest second. It sends an unexpected spark through him, and he’s momentarily lost in the warmth of her skin, the softness of her touch. He forces himself to pull away, catching her gaze again, wanting to savor the moment a little longer.

“What do you like to drink?” he asks, trying to keep the conversation going, to stretch this fleeting connection into something more tangible.

“Coffee, mostly. I love a good espresso.” she replies, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. “But I’m always open to trying new things. I’m sure the cafe will have new wonders. How about you?”

He nods, remembering the countless cups of coffee he’d consumed over the years, each one a bitter reminder of the countless sleepless nights spent alone. “I’m more of a dark roast person myself. Stronger the better.”

“Then I’ll make sure to introduce you to the best place in town. They have the most incredible brews, fit for a long suffering artist.” she says with a playful grin, and for the first time, he can’t help but smile back. It’s a small, simple thing, but it feels monumental, like a bridge forming over a chasm he thought would always divide him.

“Great….I uh….” he replies, his voice a little steadier. “I look forward to it.”

They linger for a moment, both seeming to hesitate, caught in a bubble of anticipation and something deeper that he can’t quite name. He’s never been one for lighthearted interactions, especially when it comes to connections. Yet here he is, standing before a woman who feels like a piece of his lost history, someone he feels inexplicably drawn to.

With one last lingering look, she steps back, her smile still warming the air between them. “See you soon, then, Sukuna–san.” she says, her voice light yet meaningful.

“Yeah….. I’ll see you soon.” he echoes, his heart pounding in his chest as he watches her walk away, the soft sway of her figure leaving him breathless.

As he turns to leave the gallery, the weight of the memories of a thousand years presses less heavily on him. He had left behind Sukuna's world, and birthed a new. He hopes he can. He wants to. He wants to make that woman happy. She deserves to. She deserves to be happy, in the way he couldn’t do it. He promises himself that.

For the first time, he feels a flicker of inspiration reigniting in his chest, like a spark that’s been waiting for just the right moment to burst into flame. The idea of coffee, of sharing thoughts and laughter, of discussing art with someone who understands the nuances of his legacy—it excites him in a way he hadn’t felt in what seems like an eternity. It excites him to burn with joy.

The streets outside are bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the colors alive and vibrant, reminding him of the canvases he has yet to fill. He can almost picture it now, a new piece forming in his mind—a swirling mix of shadows and light, of loss and hope, reflecting everything that has led him to this moment.

In the days and nights that follow, he begins to sketch again. The woman’s face, a beautiful blend of familiarity and freshness, dominates the canvas, layered with strokes of longing and the bittersweet pang of memory. He paints her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and the gentle warmth that radiated from her smile.

Every brushstroke feels like a conversation, a way to weave their stories together—a blend of art, history, and the unspoken connection that binds them. The artist’s block that had once felt insurmountable begins to crumble, each session at the easel pulling him deeper into his thoughts and feelings, and farther from the suffocating grasp of despair.

He dreams of their meeting, the way her presence felt like coming home, and as their coffee date approaches, he finds himself wrapped in a mix of excitement and nerves. What would they talk about? What would she think of his art?

That evening, as he stands in front of the mirror, he catches a glimpse of himself—disheveled fuschia colored hair, weary bright scarlet eyes; but beneath it all, there’s a glimmer of something he hasn’t seen in ages: hope. A hope for the future. A hope for a new world, a new life. One that will echo years and years from now about joy.

Tomorrow, he tells himself as he brushes down his shirt, it will be different.

Tomorrow, he’ll make her the happiest person in the world.

Tomorrow, he’ll hope that she will never have any more days to frown.

When the sun rises, he feels it all too well. There was a flutter of anticipation in his chest as he prepared to meet her. Each step feels lighter, each moment filled with possibility. The thought of sharing coffee and stories—his past entwined with hers—ignites a spark of creativity he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

As he enters the café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops him, and he scans the room, searching for her familiar face. When he spots her, seated at a cozy corner table, her hair cascading softly around her shoulders, he feels a rush of warmth.

Her smile brightens the space around them, and as their eyes meet, he knows he’s ready to embrace whatever this connection holds. It’s a chance to delve deeper into their stories, to explore the tangled threads of fate that brought them together.

“Hey!” she says, her voice lighting up the air between them as he approaches. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” he replies, the weight of the past lifting as he takes a seat across from her. “So, what’s first on the menu?”

As you sit together, enveloped in the warmth of shared memories and laughter, Sukuna leans forward, his gaze both intense and gentle. The edges of his usually guarded expression soften, and the small lines near his eyes deepen with a smile that’s almost boyish.

“You know," Sukuna says, his voice low and thoughtful, “I have to say this to you… but… I never thought I’d find someone who could understand me like this. The things I’ve seen—it’s hard to explain to people who haven’t lived through the same nightmares."

He glances down at his coffee, a faint smirk on his lips. “But with you, it doesn’t feel like explaining. It’s like I’m just… remembering with someone else who was there too. This feels so natural. Between you and I.”

She smiles, feeling a warmth blossom within her. “It’s strange, isn’t it? I mean, if someone had told me even a month ago that I’d be here with you, talking like this…” She trails off, laughing softly, feeling a little lost for words. “I would’ve thought they were crazy. But here we are.”

Sukuna chuckles, the sound surprisingly warm, free of his usual biting edge. “Crazy doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He pauses, his gaze meeting hers, searching as if he’s trying to decipher something hidden. “It feels like I know you… not just from now, but from a long time ago. Almost like I was meant to find you.”

His words send a shiver through her, a feeling both comforting and unsettling in its intensity. She nods slowly, letting the feeling settle within her. “I know what you mean,” she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. “It’s like we’re picking up where we left off… wherever that was.”

He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving hers. “Every lifetime,” he murmurs, as if saying it to himself. “Every single one, I think I’d find you.” His hand drifts across the table, his fingers brushing hers in a tentative, almost reverent way. “And every time, I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

She looks down at his hand, his touch grounding her. “Do you believe in that, then? In soulmates? Lifetimes together?”

He smiles, almost a little sadly, as if unsure of his own answer. “Maybe I never did before… but with you, I can’t help but think maybe I was wrong.”

A comfortable silence settles between them, the words hanging like a delicate thread binding them together. After a while, he speaks again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You… you make me see things differently, you know that? I just met you, but I just… I think it’s meant to be.”

There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one she’d never expected to see. “Like maybe life doesn’t have to be as lonely as I thought it was. Or maybe, it just doesn’t matter, as long as I’m here… with you.”

Her heart aches at his words, sensing the pain he’s carried and the hope he’s now daring to hold onto. She laces her fingers with his, giving a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone anymore, Sukuna-san,” she says softly. “Not as long as we have this. As long as we have each other. Maybe… maybe we’ll find something more to life together.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. When he opens them again, there’s something raw, something almost fragile in his gaze. “I’m… I’m honored,” he whispers gently, a small smile forming on his face. “If that means I’ll be able to live by your side in this life.”

She blushes, feeling the depth of his sincerity. “I’m just as grateful, you know?”

“Thank you.” he says, the words rough, yet sincere. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“You never have to say thank you to me.” She whispered back to him, smiling even wider. “Or say sorry. Okay?”

“Okay.” He smiles back at her, almost contagiously.

“So, do you….do you wanna watch a movie with me?”

“I’d be honored.”

In that moment, it feels as though nothing else exists—just her and him, caught in the quiet gravity of each other’s presence.

As the sun sets outside, casting a warm glow over their table, Ryomen Sukuna feels a flicker of something he thought long extinguished.

And as long as she’s beside him, he knows he’ll be right there with her, finding a new meaning to every breath and every heartbeat, perhaps better than he’d ever dreamed.

After that day, Ryomen Sukuna stopped having those nightmares about that long suffering concubine.

Instead, he started to dream of a tall man and that long suffering concubine, walking away from him — smiling. Together.

══════════════════

HE WAS LUCKY HE MADE IT. He hadn’t slept much, but it was all worth it. He liked to think that he made his best gallery presentation yet. He knew she liked it just as much as he did. And that had made him even more happy.

He wasn’t the best of storytellers, he knew that much. Writing was more or less something else to him. But, art like this? He could do it. And so, as he promised, he would make happiness appear on his canvas. He would make that concubine happy again.

As the evening progresses, the atmosphere in the gallery transforms, infused with a blend of excitement and reverence. Guests drift in and out, their whispers and laughter weaving a tapestry of shared appreciation for Sukuna's work.

The vibrant energy of the space pulses with life, but at its core lies a poignant sense of introspection; a collective acknowledgment of the stories each painting holds.

Sukuna stands near the centerpiece, his gaze lingering on the depiction of himself and his concubine, locked in an eternal moment of tenderness. The hues swirl together, capturing not just their faces but the very essence of their souls; a connection that feels almost palpable. Each brushstroke is infused with the weight of longing and regret, but now, standing beside his companion, he recognizes a glimmer of hope amid the sorrow.

As the crowd ebbs and flows, Sukuna finds solace in watching her interact with the guests, her warmth radiating in waves. She engages effortlessly, sharing her thoughts on the art, her enthusiasm infectious.

He catches snippets of their conversations, her laughter ringing out like music, and he can’t help but smile at the ease with which she navigates the social landscape. It’s a stark contrast to his own guarded demeanor, and yet, her presence encourages him to lower his defenses, to engage in this world he once viewed from the shadows.

With each passing moment, Sukuna feels a shift within himself. The uncertainty that had plagued him for so long begins to dissolve, replaced by an exhilarating sense of possibility. As the crowd gradually dwindles, he glances at the painting again, his heart swelling with emotion. It’s more than just an image; it’s a testament to love that transcends time, a narrative that binds past and present.

Suddenly, he turns to find her standing close, her expression reflecting a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “You’ve poured so much of yourself into this, Sukuna.” she says softly, her eyes shimmering with sincerity. “It’s not just about the concubine; it’s about you, too. You’ve laid bare your soul.”

The intensity of her gaze sends a shiver down his spine, and he swallows hard, feeling exposed yet liberated. “I wanted to capture the essence of what we had… to honor her, in my own little ways.” he replies, his voice low and steady. “But I realize now it’s also about my journey. This is as much about my pain as it is about her love.”

She nods, her understanding palpable, and in that moment, he feels a deep connection; there was an unspoken bond that links them through shared experiences and emotions.

The weight of his past no longer feels like a burden; instead, it becomes a source of strength, a wellspring of creativity he can draw from as he embraces this new chapter in his life.

“I think you’ve done an incredible job of that, you know?” she says, her voice softening. “You’ve shown that even in our darkest moments, love remains a guiding light. It’s beautiful.”

Sukuna’s heart races at her words, and he feels a warmth blooming in his chest—a mixture of gratitude and affection. “Thank you, really.” he replies, his voice sincere. “It means a lot to hear that from you. You’ve been… a source of inspiration for me.”

Her smile deepens, and there’s a spark of something electric in the air, a subtle shift that sends his pulse racing. “I’m glad I could be here for you, you know?” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s a privilege to witness your journey, to see you reclaim a sad story to a happy one.”

He looks at her, the soft glow of the gallery lights illuminating her features, and he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. For so long, he had been shackled by the weight of his past, haunted by the ghost of his concubine and the mistakes that had led to their separation. But here, in this moment, standing with her amidst the beauty of his creations, he feels the chains loosening.

“Will you stay a little longer?” he asks, almost hesitantly, fearing her response. “I’d like to talk more… about the paintings, about everything.”

Her eyes light up, and the warmth in her smile reassures him. “I’d love that.” she replies, and they find a quieter corner of the gallery, away from the remnants of the evening’s festivities.

As they settle into a cozy nook, surrounded by the lingering essence of art and history, Sukuna feels a sense of calm wash over him. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken connection that has blossomed between them.

“What do you see in these paintings?” he asks, eager to hear her perspective.

She leans forward, her gaze thoughtful. “I see love, loss, and resilience. Each piece speaks of a journey, a struggle to find beauty amidst pain. But what resonates most is the longing—the desire to reconnect with something that was lost. It’s powerful.”

He nods, her words echoing his own feelings, and as they discuss each painting in turn, he feels an exhilarating rush of creativity and clarity. The art becomes a conduit for their emotions, a way to explore the complexities of their shared experiences.

They dive deep into conversation, their voices low and intimate, each word exchanged drawing them closer together. She shares her own stories of loss and heartache, of moments when she thought she’d never find her way again. It’s a cathartic exchange, and he listens intently, captivated by her honesty and the strength she exudes.

With each revelation, Sukuna feels the walls that the King of Curses had built around himself begin to crumble. He shares his own struggles, the weight of his legacy, and the guilt that had shadowed him for centuries.

And perhaps, redemption may soon come for him in love. In this safe space, he finds himself opening up that man, that myth, that curse, in ways he never thought possible, unearthing emotions he had long buried.

The night wears on, and as the last of the guests trickle out, the gallery transforms into a cocoon of intimacy. It’s just him and her, surrounded by the echoes of their stories, and for the first time in ages, he feels a sense of belonging—a connection that transcends time and pain.

“I never thought I could feel this way again.” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “After everything I’ve lived through… I thought I’d lost the ability to truly connect with anyone.”

She reaches out, her hand brushing against his in a gentle, reassuring gesture. “You haven’t lost that ability, Sukuna. You’ve just been waiting for the right moment, the right person….the right time.” she says, her gaze steady and filled with warmth. “I’m here now, and I want to be part of your journey.”

The sincerity in her words washes over him, and in that moment, he knows he’s found something rare—a connection that has the potential to redefine his understanding of love, art, and the future. The vulnerability he feels is both terrifying and exhilarating, but he knows he’s ready to embrace it.

As the last notes of music drift into silence and the soft, warm lights dim, the two of them sit close, hands intertwined, surrounded by the vibrant, intimate world he has created.

Each painting on the wall, each sculpture in the dim light feels like a memory brought to life, and she feels him relax beside her, the weight of his past somehow easing with each quiet heartbeat.

His thumb gently strokes her hand, and in that small, tender motion, she feels him say more than words ever could. With her here, in this sanctuary he’s built out of his own creativity and passion, he’s no longer the solitary figure haunted by shadows. He’s simply a man who has finally, against all odds, found someone who can see past his darkness and anchor him in light.

Ryomen Sukuna pauses, his hand still entwined with hers, and a rare, gentle smile crosses his face.

Looking at the painting, he lets himself hope, just a little. Perhaps, even in a world he once saw as cold and unyielding, there are threads of something beautiful woven into his story. Perhaps, even for someone like him, there could be a happy ending, one he’d never dared to imagine.

He leans down and whispers softly, almost as if confessing a secret. “I like to think they found each other again, you know? That somehow… this time, they got to be happy.”

She squeezes his hand, her eyes shining with warmth and understanding. “I like to think that too.” she replies gently, her voice full of affection.

They walk out together, the cool night air surrounding them as they leave his art behind. And as he catches her smile, he feels his heart swell with gratitude and a strange sense of peace.

For once, he isn’t looking back, haunted by the ghosts of what once was. Instead, he’s looking forward—toward a future that, with her beside him, feels so much brighter than he ever thought possible.

In his heart, he offers a silent prayer, hoping that they’ll continue to find each other, in this life and in all the ones to come. And as they disappear into the night, hands intertwined, this Ryomen Sukuna hopes that the King of Curses finally allows himself to believe that, this time, happiness might be his after all.

══════════════════

THERE WOULD BE NO MEMORY OF THIS WHEN HE’S REBORN. Ryomen Sukuna knows that much. That is the will of the unknown, of the gods unseen and unheard. He does not care much about the propriety of the accuracy. Why should it matter what their name is? He was dead, why should he care?

In the stillness of the afterlife, everything feels suspended, timeless. Everything was not what he had expected. Long ago, he had resigned himself to the thought that a final death would lead to the depths of burning inferno. And yet, it was not. He was stuck in a journey, a journey that continuously repeats over and over again.

He does not know what those gods intended with that. What was the purpose designed by the gods? What was the purpose of this journey? He had asked himself that for hundreds of years, walking and walking like the pilgrim he was and yet without end in sight. There was no road that was left to find a stop.

Perhaps, that is until now.

Ryomen Sukuna was the first to notice.

There was a wide shoji that appeared before them.

Ryomen Hiromi was quite unsure about what that was all about. But when she stepped right in front of it, the field protecting it had barred her from even touching it. She pursed her lips in a flat line. This door was not one for her to enter.

And she probably had already known that. Looking at him with those knowing purple eyes, she knew that it was not for her. It was for him. The gods had sent him a path, and it was not to be with her. It was a road for him to take, a road that was for him. Only him.

He took a short step towards it and allowed his hands to feel the space occupied by the massive wooden shoji. His touch could pierce its space. It was truly for him. There was no mistake in that. Uraume looked at him with a tense uncertainty. His most loyal Uraume is quite that timid child, still. Just as when Sukuna had met them years and years ago.

For a moment, it reminded him of Chizuru. That gentleness of that youth, that tenderness of youth. He could only see his little one. The little one that he misses most. His soul is already at peace, and perhaps Sukuna would never see him again.

He doesn’t deserve to. He wasn’t a good father to him. But moments like this, it gives him relief. Even if Chizuru didn’t need him anymore, then someone else did. And that someone still needed him. Even if he wasn’t the person suited to be needed.

Sukuna looked down at them, and then nodded reassuringly. Uraume reached forward and gasped. Their touch too pierced through its barrier. Of course, Sukuna thought to himself. Uraume tied their entire life to him.

They were one in the same. The loyal servant cannot live without the master. No, no. Sukuna corrects himself. There was always a need for someone. People will always need people.

He stands there idly as Ryomen Hiromi stood beside him, though keeping a distance. Everything around them had grown brighter. Brighter than before. All that surrounded them had been bathed in a soft, eternal light that neither burns nor fades.

This place, this moment, is for closure—a place where the bonds of the past can either linger or be released. A purgatory for souls, sinner or not. All souls look the same to the gods. Well, that’s what Hiromi had told him.

Sukuna’s gaze rests on Hiromi, taking in the warmth in her expression, the calmness in her presence. Even here, she glows with an inner light that he has always cherished. Serene as the moonlight, as mellow as the clouds.

There had always been a quiet grace that no one could replicate. He had known that in his long lifetime. And for as long as he had lived, he thought that his job had been to protect it. To protect her. No matter what, with everything in him — even if it often meant tearing down the world around him.

For a long while, they simply stand together, the weight of their shared history resting between them. A thousand years, feeling even more than that, reflected in the understanding that came in the silence. He had known her too well, she had known him too well.

There was nothing left between them. Only knowing. And perhaps, that’s why it wouldn’t have ever worked. He thinks about that. Knowing someone, even too well, will never truly be living a life with them.

There was too much he did not know about her life. There was much she did not know about his own. They had lived lives that grew out of their tender love. People who loved each other so much, that they risked everything in the world — finally became two boats in the night waiting for each other to pass.

Perhaps that’s all that there could be, he thinks about it now. No matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he still does love her — they were parallel lines. Right people, wrong place. Right place, wrong time.

That in itself was hard to admit, he knows that. He always has. But it was hard to say. It was hard to accept. Perhaps it always will be. Yet there is so much more beyond that grief of something already lost. Of life already lived and passed by. No matter how much he wants to follow Ryomen Hiromi with all the love in his heart, with all the devotion given from all his life, there will always be fate. And fate knows better than he.

As much as he tries, he was not a god.

He will never be one, he has tried to be.

He was just a sinner, a cruel cursed sinner.

Taking a deep breath, Sukuna speaks, his voice soft, yet resolute. "I can feel it, Hiromi." he says, looking down at his feet. “Somewhere out there……..I am soon to be reborn. Soon….I must enter this door.”

Ryomen Hiromi’s face softens, and a knowing smile tugs at her lips. She tilts her head, teasing, but with a hint of sadness that she can’t entirely hide. How could she? Ryomen Sukuna was her person. He was her family. Her dearest friend, her confidant. The man she loved, still does love. The love of her life.

But she knew that he was not yet ready. Perhaps he will never be ready to move forward like this. There was much tying him to the world of the living. To the earthly life. And she knew it wouldn't be her. It will never be her.

She could see it in the corner of his scarlet eyes. He too had lived a life. He had moved on. And he wants to see that loved one again. He wants to return. Even if he does not know it. He wants to see that smile on her face again.

"So, you’ll stop following me now, huh?"

He chuckles, the sound quiet, almost reverent, as he brings her hand to his chest. "I’ll love you most in the world, you know that.” he murmurs, each word weighed with truth. “You were the part of me that was good, Hiromi. Everything I am….was because of you.”

She looks at him, shaking her head. She remains smiling. “Endless flattery is not your style.”

His eyes warmed towards her. “It is not flattery if it's true. You know that most. I do not lie, not easily. Not without reason.”

“I know.” She huffs back in response, her eyes lowered to the floor. “I know you too well.”

“I need to go. You know that. There are still…..too much left undone. I have a lot to make amends for, things I must repair.” His voice grows steady, almost solemn. “I need to start with someone else I love. Someone who’s waiting, on the other side of the shore.”

Hiromi’s gaze flickers, her surprise shifting to understanding. There’s a light in her bright purple eyes, a pride that only deepens as she studies his face. For a moment, she wondered when he had grown up. When had he aged this well, lived this well. A part of her mourns the things they never saw. But she knew it was too late. He had someone else waiting to see those sides of him now.

“I always hoped you’d find something worth living for, beyond me. Beyond our clan. Beyond Jujutsu.” she says, her words carrying an emotion he hadn’t expected. She laughs. “You’ve done well, Sukuna. I know you would. And now you’re better at admitting your faults. You’ve….you’ve truly grown up! Father and uncle would be so glad to see it, don’t you think?”

The weight of her words settles deeply into him, her silent devotion across lifetimes coming into sharp focus. Ryomen Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling the immensity of all that they’ve shared, all that he’s never truly expressed.

“There’s still much for me to set right, Hiromi.” He looks at her, his expression softening as he finally speaks the words he’s never quite managed to say before. “But the love we shared… It's the best part of me. It’s the part of me I want to carry into the next life. Everything you taught me, it will be for the better.”

A soft laugh escapes her once more, and she shakes her head as if she’s hearing a promise she’s waited lifetimes for him to make. Her hand reaches up, gentle, almost motherly, as she brushes a stray hair back from his face. Leaning in, she presses a delicate kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything else. I’ve always known you loved me.” She pulls back slightly, her hand lingering against his face. “I’ll always love you too, Sukuna. But we have different lives now. Paths that aren’t tied together anymore. No paths are bound, after all. Isn’t that what was taught?”

Her words are tender but firm, and he nods, finally accepting what she’s known all along. “I know.” he whispers, the smile on his face tinged with the bittersweet ache of goodbye. “But I think I’ll be alright, night flower. I’ve found something, someone… who I believe can make me better. She’s out there, waiting.”

For a moment, she could feel her heart shatter. In that moment, to remember what he had called her. With those words, with that tone of finality. With that tone of farewell. She could feel the warmth of water echo through her eyes. But she tries to make sure they do not pour. Those tears shouldn’t be poured. Not for him. He does not need it. She must send him happily. She must send him off with a smile. A good farewell.

Hiromi pulls away, her hand slipping from his, though her gaze remains fixed on him with a profound love and pride. Her bright eyes gleamed at him, even brighter than before. She smiles at him, though he could notice how tight it was. No matter how happy she is for him — she will mourn. She can’t help it.

“Then, I want you to find her, hm?” she says softly, the conviction in her voice like a benediction. “Find her and find your happiness, the kind that lasts. The kind that you finally deserve.”

He nods, and there’s a rare, open softness in his expression, a gratitude as deep as the ages they’ve spent together. He takes a good look at her, as though he was memorizing this moment. For as long as it still lasts, he wants to remember it. He wants to remember her, giving her blessing.

“Then, I’ll go, nightflower.” he says, his voice low and filled with purpose. “I’ll find her… and try to live the life I dreamed of with you.”

Hiromi smiles gently, and with one last lingering look, she turns to leave, pausing only to say. “Someday, I hope to meet her too—the one who brought you peace. Bring her back with you. So that I may thank her for taking care of you.”

He nodded at her. He takes a deep breath as he lowers his gaze and sees Uraume looking at him, as though asking for courage. Sukuna takes Uraume’s hand and tightly grips it, but is careful not to hurt them. A ghostly smile appears on his face, beaming it towards them.

Uraume could feel their eyes glisten as they felt the warmth of that smile. Uraume could feel warmth in them, tenderness — tenderness that molds their will to live with courage. Sukuna turns his head slightly, looking at Hiromi. His smile gets wider, and becomes more honest than before. She smiled at him, waving him off.

As he and Uraume walked towards the shoji, Ryomen Hiromi knew that she too has to move away. Ryomen Sukuna slowly watches her walk away into the path of light, alone, feeling the weight of a thousand lifetimes lifting from his shoulders. He could feel his breath hitch as he watches her walk away, perhaps for the final time, perhaps until they get reborn again.

If you were not waiting for him, if he had not met you, if he had not loved you — perhaps he would have turned away from these doors and moved towards the path of life and rejected rebirth. He would have let his soul rest in peace for all of time. But he knows that he was no longer that person anymore. He wanted to move forward. He wanted to break the cycle. He wanted to be with you.

Ryomen Sukuna is ready to face the world again, this time with a purpose that is as clear as the love he feels for the woman he will now seek. He must atone. He must live a new life. He must make you happy.

Both of you will be happy, he knows that. And as he steps forward, towards his own rebirth, he carries her blessings, his heart finally open to the happiness he had once believed was out of reach. He will live it now. He will atone, he will find redemption. He will make you happy.

487 notes · View notes

reshinless · 4 months ago

Note

Hii! I wanna request for a nsfw single dad! Wriothesley or Moze x kindergarten teacher! reader that takes care of their kids for them while they're at work 🤔

Thank you!! 🩷

──── age ain't nun but a number

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. when he feels something for the single kindergarten teacher that their kid accidently calls them mom/dad. can't help the pretty thought of getting to call you his either

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. wriothesley x gn!afab!reader (i use the term pussy :3) !!nsfw content ahead!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. i've yet to read about headcannons on moze! for now please settle with wriothesley only :pray:

wriosthesley recently started to send his lovely daughter off to school, specifically kindergarten (homeschooled her for nursery). waving her off as she looks off to the classroom- before turning around to face him with small tears prickling her redish-pink eyes.

"baby, what's wrong?" he calms her down shortly after, but still with a sigewinne who was still visibly saddened at the thought of leaving her dad.

all of a sudden, a gorgeous figure comes out of the classroom, and kneels beside wriothesley in a way to calm sigewinne down as well.

"hi sweetheart, what's your name?" you took the small blue haired girl's palms into yours, they were a little cold. "i-'im sige-sigewinne!" almost as if completely cheering up after seeing how beautiful you were, her father completely stunned as well.

"i'm (name), how about you come in and meet the other kids inside, would you like that?" the small girl quickly nodded at your words, watching as you stood back up and offered your hand out to her, sigewinne who takes it just as fast, holding onto one of your fingers.

as you let the bunny-like girl into the classroom, you walk back up to flushed face of her father. "t- thank you for that. i- i- um.. i'm wriothesley." he offers out a hand as you chuckle lightly. "i'm (name), does she get anxious without you or was that because this is her first time away from you?"

"ah.. the second. you .. the teacher of the classroom?" "mmmm, yes i am." oh your voice was just as lovely as your face. his eyes scanned over your features while you discussed details on sigewinne's schedule. subtly checking you out before his eyes trail back up to see you aren't talking anymore. oh.

"oh.. ahem-" he coughs awkwardly to excuse his actions as your own face flushes a little. "i'll send you the rest via... hmm, where can i contact you?" perfect- a way to get your number!

"ah just.. here." he hands his phone to you, as you added it to your contact list. "i'll send it to you there then." you bowed and left to tend to your class of 20 kindergarten students. fuck you were beautiful.

cut to a few months into school days, sigewinne is doing great all but in one subject. which results wriothesley having to ask you for a bit of tutoring just for sigewinne, openly inviting you into their house.

you agree, not minding helping another kid. as you drove over to his house; you felt a little bit of fuzz in your heart, seeing a moderately-sized house, with fence which looks like its supposed to be white; was colored to be coincidentally the colors of sigewinne's hair. random strokes and lines scattered all over each standing wooden plank, you couldn't help but laugh a little.

as you got out, you observed out the sidewalk near his home had hopskotch sketches on the floor as well, how adorable. as wriothesley opened the door to welcome you inside, the house seemed pretty spacy.

"i know its not much, but this house was closest to the school." he chuckled as he led you over to where sigewinne was waiting. "tell me if you need anything."

wow he sounds even better upclose. his smile is pretty too, the apron he wore as he baked sigewinne-shaped cookies was pretty cute as well.

but as much as it all seemed very adorable, and fluffy. wriothesley couldn't lie what he'd been feeling the last few months in knowing you, and knowing how much sigewinne looks up to you, even overhearing the way she accidently calls you mom/dad, meaning that even if he proposed right here and now; his daughter would gladly accept. his last partners she never approved of- but with you, it's almost like she was actively trying to get you together.

before he walks into the room to ask if you and sigewinne are hungry; he hears her ask a little question. "miss/mister (name)! do you like my daddy?" sigewinne tugs at the hem of your sleeve. "ah- w- what do you mean?" "you like daddy, right? because you always smile when you go to escort me back to him, i don't see you do that to like.. aika's dad! or amira's mom! so you like daddy!"

unbeknownst to you; the strong, and big reputation fighter wriothesley blushed behind the closed door, hearing every little aspect of the conversation. putting the desserts back before putting his ear against the door again. "your daddy is nice, but i can't have relationships with my student's parents. it's unprofessional." "so you would date daddy if you didn't work here? oh but i'm gonna miss you in class if you leave!"

you found it adorable how she thought you'd leave your job for wriothesley, but you definitely couldn't afford doing so; not at the expense of your own living space being taken from you again.

"i just.. i guess you're a little right, 'winne. but i can't do that right now." "daddy makes enough money! this is only one of his houses!" "alright alright that's enough, let's get back to studying."

something so innocent, yet so captivating about the way you talked about him, you simply agreed about smiling the more you saw him. he felt mutual about it. ah- damn he shouldn't think the way he does about you, catching himself palming his urgent erection through the fabric of his boxers at night to the thought of your entrance sinking onto his length so politely- he's getting ahead of himself now.

but fuck it'd definitely be hot, to feel you on him, or watch how he'd be the one to arch your back as you creamed onto his cock. oh fuck, guess the pastries will wait. off to the bathroom he goes.

oh but the thought of you just bending over for him, telling him it's all his, he definitely could bust right here and now. stroking his girth, imagining how it'd be so slippery, so vulnerable just taking it like anyone would.

shit he already felt it coming- his dick definitely felt a lot more sensitive than last time he thought of jerking off to you; and damn did it feel good as hell. damn, was that already his cum on his own stomach.. he came at the thought of you again. third time this week. huh.

he came out, pulling his pants a bit, looking a little disshelved, more than earlier at least as you saw him walk by. "hey, i put her to sleep for now." you wave to him as you round the corner from her room. "mmm? that's good." he took a seat beside you, "oh uh, and i have a little favor to ask, you mind i stay for now? the rain doesn't seem like it'll let up anytime soon."

"yeah, sure, make yourself at home, baby." he hadn't realized the slip of tongue of calling you the nickname, barely noticing the clear flustered state he had put you in. "huh, what's with the face?"

you looked away, admitting it was nothing, 'till he ringed a strong arm around your shoulders, using his finger to make you look into his eyes, turning your head back to his. "then you'd tell me, yeah?"

you couldn't avoid how attractive it was, it was a swift reaction. you could feel something pooling/hardening down in your lower region, "it's really.. u- um nothing. i just.. i.." you held eye contact with him for a bit before you felt a hand grasp your hair from behind your head, pushing your lips into his.

you reciprocated the kiss for a bit, as you pulled away, eyes opened in shocked, as wriothesley looked like it was a normal thing between you two. "has anyone told you how pretty you are?

"..." "does it make you nervous when i stare? sorry, it's a habit when you're that gorgeous." "this.. is.. this is unprofessional! i- i'm sorry i-" you try to explain before he pulls you closer with his arm, "sigewinne sees you as a parent figure, it's fine."

"c'mere, pretty, she won't know we did this, and no one else will, not unprofessional if no one else will know. i know you want me too." he stroked your cheek, a smirk appeared on his face, while he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "come on, break the rules just once, i'll show you a good time."

...

he had you pinned onto his mattress upstairs, clothes stripped and onto the floor, now he could finally observe all and every inch he's been longing to see of you. trailing his palms all over your body, exploring it as much as he could. "just.. tell me to stop if i need to, 'kay?"

he already pried your legs open with just his words, one of his snake up to the other, holding it with a gentle, and soft touch, making sure you knew he cared about the way you felt about what he was doing.

but it was the way it was basically, your pussy was calling to him, the way they tightened around his fingers. "damn- already wet for me, baby?" he teased as he lowered his head to set a kiss on your cheek, watching you whimper, and arch your back from the simple art of getting played with (and it was just his fingers, just imagine his cock!!)

as he unbuckled his belt, shit you couldn't deny the sound of hearing his pants lower and drop the ground turned you on so much- ahh you could already imagine the way it'd feel inside. but you didn't have to imagine because he already lowered his cock to enter inside you, shit you could feel your already split in half from just the tip.

you can feel his girth, every vein, and inch, you could feel everything. "shh baby, i know you can take it." you could feel a reassuring squeeze on your palm. you could feel his forehead in contact with your as he slowly continued to penetrate, so slowly, so sensually. you felt a plethora of emotions, the guilt being quickly washed over with pleasure.

"ah- uhuh? you like that? like the way my cock kisses your stomach, sweetheart?" he teases into the shell of your ear. sending shudders down your spine, kissing your neck briefly. "ahh- mmf! yes, i do.." you whimper out with shame, the way his shaft smacked against your g-spot felt so good.

your legs started to tremble. you could feel his skin slap onto yours, making loud sounds that definitely would wake his neighbors up.

the strength in his palms that kept your thigh up on his shoulder now never faltered. hearing each moan felt like he only wanted to penetrate you even more.

"ah ah ah. careful with your sound so, pretty. you might wake up 'winnie." coy teasing is heard from the low rasp of his voice- damn he knew what he was doing. it was hard as hell to keep it down if his cock made such an adorable bulge in your stomach.

reaching for your swollen clit, rubbing over it with his thumb- oh fuck you could feel your third orgasm coming already. it didn't help how quickly he thrusts inside you, adding onto the euphoria you felt pooling in your stomach. the pressure only got worse the more you could hear his groans.

you started to clench onto the base of his cock, making it even harder for him to penetrate your stomach the way he did previously. "damn baby- relax, tryna keep me in there, or something?" he teased, promptly speeding up his digit over your pussy.

"haahn- gonna.. gonna c-cum wrio- fffuck!" you moaned loudly, squirting succus, as wrio holds your hips close to his own.

"hooollyy shiiit.. came all over me baby." he says breaths between his words.

he slowly pulled out of you, finally leaving your puffy hole alone, keeping one of his hands on your cunt still. "stay still, pretty." he licked a stripe over it, progressively lapping up the mix of cum between you both in your hole.

there was just something about either keeping every last drop in there, or at least letting himself have a taste to indulge in more intimacy as you calm down from your high (or cum on his tongue again, whatever you want.)

wriothesley who carries you bridal style to the bathroom. cleaning you up, and lets you borrow some of his clothes for the mean time before you go back home.

"dad! look! there's a storm outside!" sigewinne points out, her little finger out the window, cheek against the glass.

seems like you won't leave for now, how about you stay for the night?

598 notes · View notes

felassan · 2 months ago

Text

David Gaider on Zevran, under a cut for length:

"I was going to skip over Zevran, honestly, as I felt like I didn't have a lot to tell in the way of stories about him... but I know he still has some (ardent) fans. Plus, on reflection, I thought maybe I DO have a few things to say. 😅 Sooo we'll see how this goes. Zevran came along much later in the DAO process, as we were trying to round out the cast of party members. Alistair and Morrigan were well underway (as "main" characters, they were concepted very early) and I'd just started to consider who our Rogue followers might be when... things changed, a bit. See, BioWare had released a game not long beforehand called Jade Empire. It had included some same-sex options in its romances - not obscured like the way Juhani's "romance" had been hinted at in KotOR, but explicit. To this day, I have no idea who on the Jade Empire team was behind it, or why. More to the point, the same-sex options had received a lot of attention and praise - almost universal praise, in fact. In 2005, everyone was just pleasantly surprised. And I don't recall if I went to James and asked about it or if he came to me to suggest DAO should include it. The latter, I think."

"You might ask "Aren't you gay, Dave? Weren't you already pushing for this?" And the answer to that is, emphatically, "no, not at all". It might seem odd looking through the lens of 2024, but there was no talk of 'representation' or 'diversity'. Not at any level where we were aware of it, anyhow. Today, fans argue about how MUCH representation to include and whether it's done well enough... the idea that, less than twenty years ago, it being included *at all* was very much in doubt feels so far away. But, back then, I'd always assumed my private life and my work in games would never meet. So I think it was James who brought it up, because I remember being startled. Pleasantly so, of course. Now I had to look at our two rogues and figure out how this would apply. I sketched out the female of the two (who was taken on by Sheryl Chee) and then looked at the male - he who became Zevran. I'd been reading about the CIA and one thing that stuck with me was how they'd (allegedly) recruit gay men as assassins because they rarely had familial ties. Zevran wasn't going to be gay (bisexuality wasn't a question of representation, but a cost-benefit compromise) but that was the inspiration."

"Then there was the question of how "flamboyantly" I was writing this character, whether that might be too stereotypical? I don't remember how it arose, but I had too many "flamboyant" friends to do anything other than double down. This character was gonna be Zorro the goddamn Gay Blade, that's what. So that's how Zevran happened. Fun, a bit nihilistic, maybe a bit too overtly flirty for today's audience but very confidently *sexual*. Everything I'm not, so I'll admit it was an interesting exploration to dig down and find that voice somewhere inside. He was the anti-Alistair, and I needed that. Casting him was difficult. Caroline always tried to go for authentic accents, when we could, but for some reason this was getting us nowhere. I think back, and I suspect it's because I hadn't yet learned the lesson to not use terms in casting descriptions I thought were universal... but were not. What do I mean by that? Well, there was one write-up that said "drow elf". Now, I know what a drow elf is. It wasn't even important to the description, but the director saw the word "elf", and you know what we got back? A Keebler elf. Like a leprachaun, high and sweet and cutsie. Can you imagine?"

"In this case, I think it was the use of the word "assassin". Combine that with the sorts of roles many Hispanic actors in LA probably are asked to play, and all the auditions we were getting were 150% dark, mean, and gritty. 🫠 So we widened the casting call a bit, and this led us to Jon Curry. I knew Jon wasn't Hispanic, but what I wasn't prepared for when I flew down to meet the DAO actors was that he's this extremely tall, extremely Nordic looking dude who just happened to do the most amazing Antonio Banderas impression. Watching THAT man channel Zevran was... more than a bit surreal. 😅 And he had fun with it. As soon as we gave him the go ahead to play the fun and flirtiness to the hilt, that's exactly what he did. Over the few days where we found Zevran's voice, it totally supplied me with something I could hold in my head when I went back to Edmonton and finished writing him. Zevran was funny enough that the fans liked him. The only part of the reception I thought odd was the occasional comment by a male player who felt "tricked" into having sex with Zevran. "You mean... that part where he invites you to his tent for a sensual massage?" "Yes! I was expecting a massage!" "He literally says the massage is sensual." "Well he wasn't clear enough!" This is where I first came to the conclusion that a certain number of our players just don't know how to people. And that maybe an adjustment to the way we approached the messaging (or massaging lol) of romance was in order. If I could go back, would I change anything? Maybe I'd remind the systems team Zevran should really be able to pick a lock. And maybe not allow him to die. We had no idea we'd need to import these choices into the future - we kinda thought DAO was "one and done". Not so much, as it turned out. 😁"

[source thread]

David Gaider: "there's something to be said about how Zevran flirted and even had sex with you because he thought that's all he had to offer... not just you, but anyone. And when he realized you wanted something deeper, suddenly he was on unsteady ground and it truly unsettled him. It was fun to explore." [source]

User: "So David - besides loving the fact that the third image you picked is a gay sex scene - what happened in DA2(DAE - come on) with Zevrans design?" David Gaider: "Check the ALT text. It wasn’t a custom sculpt, so that’s as close as they could get it. Which… was not close." [source]

User: "Just to make sure I fully understand: the director (was it the voice director?) saw the word "elf" and thought you were looking for someone high, sweet, and cutesie?" David Gaider: "Yeah, this was from back before we managed VO in-house. The voice director in this case just didn’t have an association with “elf” like some familiar with fantasy would." [source]

#dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #jade empire #lgbtq #alistair theirin #fav warden #morrigan #queen of my heart

488 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 10 months ago

Text

Hasn’t Burned Down Yet | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @asherlockfandom

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) proves that she's still not one to be messed with when it comes to her business. Tommy's happy he's not the one in the line of fire this time.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of smoking

Word Count: 3475

A/N: I’m sorry it took me so long to share this one with y’all…I’ve been going through it lately hah. I had a bunch of fun writing it though. I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this can be read as a standalone, but to really know the Tommy and (Y/N) in this story, I suggest you check out the first part: The House’ll Burn Down…you can find it HERE.

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

"Someone's waiting up front for you, (Y/N)," Anna, one of (Y/N)'s employees, announced as she came into the back of the shop.

"Tell them I'll be out in five," (Y/N) responded, her eyes not leaving the latest sketch she was working on.

"He's not the sort that you keep waiting," Anna stated, her words making (Y/N) look up. The latter expected to see a look of worry on the former's face. Instead a slight smile was present.

"Ok...?" (Y/N) trailed off sounding slightly confused as she stood from her desk and walked to the front of the shop. Her brow stayed furrowed until she made it to the front counter and saw who was waiting for her.

"You forgot about my appointment, didn't you?" the man waiting out front asked, his one eyebrow quirked as a smirk played on his lips.

"Just come back, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) dismissed his teasing question, trying her best to hide her smile as she motioned to him, making Tommy walk around the counter to join her.

"I've got the front," Anna announced, smiling at her boss.

"Thank you, Anna," (Y/N) nodded, sending the younger woman a smile before she began to walk back to the workroom.

"Why do you insist on keeping appointments here?" (Y/N) questioned as she led him to one of the fitting rooms. "This could be done on our own time, you know."

"I thought it was you who insisted on keeping a separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" Tommy commented with a grin, following her into the fitting room before he took hold of her arm and spun her to face him. He pressed his lips to hers and slipped his arms around her waist before she could say a word.

"Separation between business and pleasure, hmm?" she quipped once they'd pulled away, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Was you who wanted it, not me," he reminded her, sending a wink her way. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the gesture, but she couldn't stop her smile from growing. "Wanted to do that from the second I saw you out there," he admitted then.

"Well I'm happy you were able to control yourself, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) commented, patting his chest.

"I try my best, Mrs. Shelby," he responded, making her let out a breath of a laugh before she leaned in and kissed him again. "Your composure's easy to crack," he commented with a grin once they pulled away.

"Let's just get this finished with...before I become upset with you," (Y/N) said with a smile, pushing on his chest to break their embrace so that she could grab the things she needed to begin taking measurements.

Truthfully she knew the measurements of her husband by now, but Tommy still insisted on these fittings. He wanted to make sure that things were perfect. It wasn't that he doubted his wife's work, if anything it was because this gave him another chance to spend some time with her. Time was something that neither had much of due to their busy schedules.

Surely you’ve noticed by now that things have - obviously - changed between (Y/N) and Tommy. It most certainly didn't happen overnight though. After (Y/N) put Tommy in his place, she fully expected him to take his business elsewhere. But he stuck around, and when he realized that she wasn't going to change how she dealt with him, he decided to change his approach. One thing led to another and eventually, as of two months ago, (Y/N) found herself with a new surname. She honestly couldn't think of a time where she's been as happy as she is now.

Along with getting married, (Y/N)'s business has also taken off. She's now one of the most respected tailors in not only Small Heath, but the entirety of Birmingham. She worked hard to gain her reputation, and all of the countless hours that she spent mastering her craft have certainly paid off.

"What will you be wearing to the event?" Tommy decided to make conversation whilst (Y/N) was still taking measurements.

"Since when is that something you care about?" she playfully quipped in response as she moved over to her clipboard and wrote a few notes before returning to him.

"I want to make sure you match me," he gave his reason.

"Oh I'll make sure you do, darling," she smiled at him, her eyes finding his for just a moment before she motioned for him to hold his arms out so that she could take the measurements for his suit's jacket.

She bit on her bottom lip to try and conceal the smile as she brought her tape measure up and held it against the underneath of his arm. She did this to both sides before moving it down to hold it against his torso. She really had to bite on her bottom lip as she slowly moved her hand down along his ribs. Just like she expected him to, Tommy flinched the second her fingers touched the space below his ribs.

"Stop moving," she teasingly chastised him, continuing on with making her measurements.

Tommy just grunted in response, watching her closely as she finished with his left side and moved onto his right. Here she slowed her actions down substantially. He couldn't help but flinch again when her fingers brushed over that same spot.

"I said stop moving, Thomas," she rebuked him again, lifting her gaze up to match his, showing him the smile that was present on her features.

"You know what you're doing," he commented, his eyes narrowing as they stayed locked onto hers.

"I do," she chirped, tilting her chin upwards, "very well."

"Then you should know..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes, "that I know those exact same spots on you," he paused, his eyes dropping to sneak a glance at her frame, "very well," he finished his statement by reaching out and pressing his fingers into the skin of her sides, where she was extremely ticklish.

These actions made (Y/N) shriek and quickly drop her hands so that she could try to get him to stop what he was doing. It wasn't an easy feat. "Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally managing to get ahold of his hands and pull them from her sides after a few moments had passed. "We're supposed to be professional here," she hissed at him then, trying her best to hide the smile that just wouldn't stay away. She stopped trying when she noticed that he was already smiling.

"Fair enough," he nodded, showing that he was conceding to her. "Finish your measurements."

(Y/N) let go of his hands with a huff and bent down to grab the tape measure that had been discarded when this all started. They then sent each other a look: (Y/N) to check if he was really finished with his previous tirade, and Tommy to tell her 'no more funny business'.

The stare down lasted a few moments, but nothing else happened once (Y/N) resumed taking her measurements. The only time the envelope was pushed was when Tommy spun (Y/N) around and managed to sneak a kiss just before she crossed the threshold into the front of the shop.

(Y/N) made sure that Tommy's suit complimented her dress for the gala they were attending that evening. She had picked out a royal blue evening gown, and made sure that Tommy's suit was a charcoal color and had a blue tie to bring it together. She also wanted to include a blue pocketsquare but Tommy fought it, saying that the tie was enough. (Y/N) finally conceded when Frances came and announced that their car had arrived, instead telling Tommy that he'd need to make this up to her in some way.

Now the event was in full swing. (Y/N) stayed by Tommy's side, joining him in the conversations that he was having. She was able to add meaningful viewpoints, and Tommy appreciated that. Her presence was way more than just a prize on his arm.

"Mr. Shelby, I must bring attention to the fine suit you've got on," Elliot Thorsby, a man who was a prominent figure in automobile sales, began as he approached the couple. (Y/N)'s smile grew as she heard what he said. The suit she made had been getting compliments like this one all evening. "Might I ask where you had it made?"

"Me wife’s the one who made it," Tommy was happy to share, nodding his head to the woman standing on his right. "She makes all of my suits."

"Ahh," Elliot responded, looking surprised as he nodded slowly. "Is she open to taking on new clients?" he asked then, still speaking to Tommy.

"Now that's something that I wouldn't know personally," Tommy began, glancing over at his wife before he continued, "why don't you ask her yourself?"

Elliot held Tommy's gaze for a few beats before it seemed like he snapped out of whatever bubble he was in. That was when he finally turned his attention to (Y/N). "Are you taking new clients, Mrs. Shelby?" he asked, his bushy eyebrows raised in wait.

(Y/N) took a moment to respond to the question. She figured that he deserved to wait a few moments longer. After all it was him who decided to ask it indirectly in the first place. And she honestly quite enjoyed watching him squirm in his spot; obviously not used to being on the receiving side of this sort of situation.

"Well I've already got quite the schedule lined up, but for you, Mr. Thorsby, I'd be willing to make an exception," she finally informed him of her decision, a professional smile gracing her features.

"You would?" he sounded elated, almost like a kid on Christmas.

"I would," she affirmed with a nod.

"Wonderful," Elliot grinned. He paused as a man came to his side and whispered something in his ear. "You'll need to excuse me now, a business matter has come up. We'll reconnect at the end of the evening and schedule a time," he told the Shelby couple once the other man had left.

"That sounds fine," (Y/N) nodded at him, then accepting the handshake that Elliot extended to both her and Tommy. He was the first to leave the conversation, leaving the husband and wife to turn to each other.

"Got you another client," Tommy commented on the previous coversation as he fished the tin of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"We'll see how it goes," (Y/N) answered in a nonchalant manner, smiling at her husband as she shrugged her shoulders.

The earliest Elliot Thorsby was able to come to (Y/N)'s shop in Small Heath was two weeks after their initial conversation date.

She greeted him with a smile before telling Anna that she'd be taking this client and that the younger woman should man the desk while she was gone. Once everything was squared away in that regard, (Y/N) waved on Elliot for him to come back with her.

Things went well with the fitting. (Y/N) was able to get a good read on what Elliot wanted and had some great ideas for a design before she was even finished with the measurements. Now she couldn't wait to get some time alone to get started on her beginning sketches. But first she had to see Mr. Thorsby out.

The two returned to the front of the store. (Y/N) told Anna that she was able to return to her previous project, leaving her and Mr. Thorsby alone at the counter. She quickly got to work on calculating the price of the fitting visit and also what the suit would cost. She then shared that final price with him without second thought.

A few moments passed and Elliot still hadn't offered up the money yet. This made (Y/N) glance up from the ledger she was writing down the sale in. "Is there a problem?" she asked with raised brows, immediately noticing the sour look that was present on his face.

"Don't you think the price is a bit...much?" he questioned her.

"No, sir. It's spot on with what I normally charge," there was no hesitation in her answer.

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off, obviously not pleased with the response he was given. "But given my relationship with your husband, and the business we've conducted together…” he paused again, “well don't you think that warrants a lesser price?"

It took everything in (Y/N) to stop the scoff that she wanted to let out in response to his statement. It made her look of confusion quickly turn to one of surprise. "Your relationship and the manner in which you conduct business with my husband does not have any effect on how I run my business, Mr. Thorsby," she began, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, "I take pride in my work and I know how much my suits are worth."

"But for a man with my standing, don't you think that..."

"You'll pay full price for the suit," she cut him off before he could even finish his statement.

Hearing her blatant demand made his jaw go slack. "And if your husband gets knowledge of the manner in which you're treating his associates?" he decided to try another direction.

"My husband pays full price as well," she quickly shut him down for the second time, not in the slightest bit fazed by his threats.

"Your own husband?" there was bewilderment in Mr. Thorsby's voice.

"He knows how much they're worth," (Y/N) doubled down, once again speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I think you're making a rather grand mistake here, Mrs. Shelby," he tried one last time to try and turn the tides in his favor.

(Y/N) didn't waste a moment worrying about his threat. "I think I'll be just fine," she assured him, a tight-lipped smile forming on her face. She hoped that it added salt into the wound she'd inflicted upon his ego.

"You're not afraid of what'll come once word of this gets out?" he still continued trying. It was almost comical now. She sent him a look; a non-verbal way of asking him 'are we finished here?'. But he paid no attention to it, instead trying one last line that he used when he didn't get his way. "Do you not know how much power I hold?"

Ahh, the power card, (Y/N) thought to herself as she continued to try her hardest and hold back her scoff, where have I heard that one before?.

She was way passed finished with him and his droning on at this point. His pestering had brought her to the end of her professional rope. She was trying like hell to keep herself composed and not lose her cool. She wanted to keep taking the high road.

A few moments passed before she took a deep breath and finally responded: "I've dealt with the likes of you before, Mr. Thorsby. I've been given threats harsher in nature than the one you've just told me. My shop hasn't burned down yet. So I'm not worried about what your comments on the prices of my suits will do to my reputation." Her eyes never left his as she spoke, showing him that she meant every single word.

Another pause arose, and (Y/N) wondered if maybe she'd finally gotten through to him. Maybe he'll finally leave.

But, of course, he stayed standing in front of the counter. "Are you sure this is the path you want to take?" he gave one last try, his eyebrows raising as he tried to keep up his imposing figure. It was more then obvious that said figure wasn't working on (Y/N) though.

"Are you going to pay for the suit, Mr. Thorsby?" she asked him, no longer wanting to entertain his theatrics, her eyes still locked onto his. It became even more apparent as each second passed that she wasn't going to change her mind on this.

"You'll regret this, Mrs. Shelby," he finally conceded, but not without throwing one last threat out there.

"As will you, Mr. Thorsby. Have a nice day," she nodded, still unfazed by all of it as her dismissive goodbye made him turn and exit her shop. She stood stoic and watched as the door shut behind him. Only when she was finally alone did she shake her head and let out a huff. "Prick," she muttered to herself before she tore the ledger sheet out of the book and crumbled it up.

"Do you remember Elliot Thorsby?" (Y/N) asked as she moved over to the mantlepiece in Tommy's office later that evening.

"Course I do," Tommy responded without up looking from the paper he was reading, "what about him?"

"He came for his fitting today," she started, grabbing one of the decanters and an empty glass so that she could pour herself a drink.

"And?" he asked for more information, finally looking up at her just as she spun to face him.

(Y/N) didn't answer right away, instead bringing the glass up to her lips and taking a healthy swig from it. She hissed at the burn that accompanied the whiskey as it slid down her throat and tried her best to smile at her husband. Tommy raised his eyebrows at her as he removed the glasses from the bridge of his nose, now waiting intently for her to share something with him.

(Y/N) brought the glass back up to her lips and held it there as she let the silence linger for a little bit longer. She didn't quite know why she was waiting so long...maybe she enjoyed watching him as he tried to hold his intent composure. "I don't think you should work with him anymore," she finally told him.

"Why not?" he immediately asked for more information.

"He felt that he should pay less for his suit because of his connection to you; felt that I should honor your relationship and then threatened me when I wouldn't adhere to his tactics," she happily told him about her interaction with the businessman.

"He threatened you?" Of course this was the part of her statement that Tommy fixated on.

"Well he tried to...the threats didn't really take," she shrugged, finishing the rest of her glass.

"What did he say to you?" he was still hung up on it.

"Tommy it was nothing," she brushed his worry off. His expression didn't change. (Y/N) let out a sigh before she began walking in his direction. "He told me that I'd lose my clients because he has influence," she told him as she stopped in front of where he was sitting. He looked up at her with raised eyebrows as he turned the chair in her direction. She took that as her signal to sit on his lap. He went back to staring straight ahead once she sat. It didn't take long for her to notice that he still wasn't completely convinced. "Tommy..." she trailed off, taking hold of his chin so that he'd be looking at her again, "what're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that maybe I should go have a word with him."

"I told you it's fine. I handled it, and I'm not worried about what he's claiming he'll do," she assured him. A smile creeped onto (Y/N)'s features as she thought of something else to add. "Besides, it's not like he threatened me with arson...like this one client I had.”

Tommy couldn't stop the grin from forming as he immediately realized what she was hinting at. “Who’d threaten something like that, hmm?” he questioned, playing along with her.

“Someone who really wanted to try his luck,” she answered, letting go of his chin so that she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“I’d say the risk paid off,” he wagered, his hold on her tightening slightly so that he could pull her even closer.

“It seems like it did,” she agreed, leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

Their kiss was short, and he was soon parting from her to share the next move that he’d thought up. “Any business with Thorsby will be finished tomorrow.”

“Stop thinking about him and kiss me, Tommy,” she responded, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

He chuckled at her abrupt statement and wasted no time in doing what she asked him to. His lips were back on hers within seconds, and Elliot Thorsby was the furthest thing from each of their minds.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @deadcrowcalling

MASTERLIST

852 notes · View notes

starlighttsv · 6 days ago

Text

Live - paige’s sister

💌 Syn: uconn wbb live with taylor!

»»— warnings: it’s not in order of the actual live

»»— notes: finally bringing these over from wp, but the editing did nothing and i still hate this and the others 🫠

»»— word count: 1.4k

»»— pair: paige x sister!oc || taylor bueckers

Paige and KK are sitting on the couch catching their breath after they just did self defense lessons for the viewers on the live. KK's now explaining why she was mad in the car on the live they did earlier with their crumbl cookie review.

"They left me in the mall-" kk started but got cut off "NO I texted you to meet us at the car. I said and I quote 'taylor got scared from the fans screaming and wanting pictures, meet us at the car.' Paige cut in

"And I'm a GIRL!! somebody could just walk behind me and BOOM SNATCHIES!!" KK defended, making everyone laugh at her yelling 'boom snatchies' and then said "tays my girl, so I understand p leaving to take her to the car when she's scared, BUT THAT DIDN'T MEAN JANA AND ICE HAD TO LEAVE ME!" Making jana and ice laugh and start defending themselves while Paige try's to focus back on her schoolwork

While KK, Jana, and Ice are arguing defending themselves on live and Paige is doing her schoolwork, Taylor walks out of Paige's room with her fuzzy stitch blanket, Olaf stuffed animal that Azzi bought her on her 1st birthday, her sketch book and her crayons and walks into the living room at the time kk walks over to ice and hugs her and Paige records it

Taylor walks to the couch and sets her stuff next to Paige and starts trying to climb up it while kk yells at ice to hug her back

Kk walks away from ice after they hug and her and Paige both see Taylor struggling to climb up the cushion, Paige immediately sets the phone down and lifts Taylor up next to her before she can get hurt. While Paige helped Taylor, kk sat back in her seat and propped the phone back up, all the comments that where laughing and joking about the kk and ice hug are now greeting Taylor

"Baby Bueckers, wanna say hi to the fans?" Kk asked Taylor while Paige was helping her get comfortable by placing her blanket on her and making a little more room so she has room to draw

Taylor looked at kk then the phone where she can see kk,herself, and Paige and then looks at Paige questioning if she can. Paige nods and says "it's ok go ahead" making Taylor look back to the camera and shyly say hi while waving slowly, making paige and kk laugh a little bit and the comments start gushing about her and how shy she is, seeing as paige the least shy person on the planet is her older sister.

"Isn't she just the cutest" kk somewhat yelled and pinched her cheeks, making taylor giggle but pull away. Eventually the focus goes on to debating if they’re gonna do a talent show and while they’re doing that, Taylor’s drawing paige and the uconn girls for Paige. While Taylor was in Paige's room earlier she also finished a drawing for geno and cd.

"That's cute. Who's that for baby?" Paige says softly while kk is looking for someone to add, for the talent show. "It was supposed to be a surprise." Taylor say sadly "it's for you. Do you like it?" She adds on

"Oh I'm sorry baby, I didn't know. I'll act surprised when you give it to me alright? And I think it's absolutely beautiful. You did so good on it." Paige says softly to Taylor while a fan is singing “before he cheats”

"It's ok, I just have a few more things to add and then you can have it." She replied and Paige nodded and looked away to focus on the talent show, giving her the privacy to finish the drawing.

"DONE" she yelled cutting off the person now screaming because she got accepted into the live, making everyone laugh after kk kicked the fan off "whys everyone laughing? Did I do something?" Taylor says making everyone calm down there laughing

"No, you didn't do anything babe. It was just a funny time to yell. That's all" Paige said making her make an 'ohhh' face, before grinning and shoving the drawing into Paige's chest

"Oh wow for me? did you make this all on your own? This is amazing!" Paige says shocked, making Taylor giggle knowing she's acting "this is you! that's kk and Jana, ice, Azzi, Caroline, Aubs, ash, Sarah, morgy, Allie, yanna, that's Kaitlyn with q, and I did nika over there and Aaliyah over there with ines and amari!" She points everyone out excitedly, making kk, Jana, Aubrey, and ice the only other people in the room to move closer to see the drawing.

All of them saying how good it is, and that they want one for them making her say she'll work on them over summer. Kk grabs the drawing excitedly and shows the camera saying "guys I don't think we need to have a talent show anymore. Taylor obviously wins!" Making Taylor giggle "I don't count" she reply's making kk gasp and put her hand over her heart dramatically "what do you MEAN you don't count? It's a talent show. You showed your talent. You WIN!" Kk said

"Noooo someone on the phone has to win! You don't know them, you know me, that's a disadvantage!" Taylor says making kk look at her with wide eyes "WHY IS THIS 4 YEAR OLD SAYING SENTIENCE'S LIKE THAT?! WHO TAUGHT HER THE WORD DISADVANTAGE?!" Kk scream's making Taylor giggle again and the others to laugh

"She's a smarty pants. She loves learning new things." Paige replies "she knows how to count to 100 too" Paige adds making kk even more shocked

The comments are blowing up, so while kks on her ranting spree, Taylor was focusing on the comments "sissy why are they saying your fine? What happened? Are you ok?" Taylor questions confused, with her saying that made the room go silent for a few seconds before kk breaks the silence by bursting into laughter making the others do the same.

"Alright Alright, no more comments for you. Let's look away from the camera alright?" Paige says trying not to laugh cause she sees taylor is now genuinely concerned "you didn't answer. Why are they saying your fine? Why are you sad?"She said making kk laugh again, Paige leaned forward and smacked kk on the back of the head, glaring at her

"I'm good baby, I'm not sad alright? I don't know what there talking about." She tries to comfort while also not informing her what the fans where actually talking about. "You sure?" She says hesitantly, making Paige nod her head "I'm ok. Promise." She says

Taylor nods and then go on to ask her different questions and things unrelated to that whole situation, making Paige let out a sigh of relief that she dropped this conversation. Kk goes on back to the live adding more people, kicking more people off, that whole routine.

"Sissy can you let my hair down? It's to tight" taylor say halting the conversation about all the places she gets to go to this summer "yeah come here" Paige says while moving her computer to the side and setting Taylor in her lap, starting to take out all the hairties, rubber bands, and bobby pins. When completed Paige massages Taylor's scalp a little bit to relieve the pain from the tight up-do her hairs been in all day, making her lean into Paige more.

While that's happening, kk starts singing pyramids. Paige takes her hands away from Taylors head but she still leans into Paige more, suddenly tired. She yawns making Paige look at her "tired?" She asks and Taylor shakesher head no but then shakes her head yes.

Paige moves her sketch book and crayons to the table, and grabs her blanket and Olaf. Handing Taylor the Olaf, Paige lays Taylor in her arms with Taylor's head in the crook of Paige's elbow, face pressed against her stomach and feet curled up against Paige. Paige tucks the blanket around Taylor making sure shes comfortable before starting to rub her back to help her fall asleep.

Once she fell asleep, paige told kk to keep it down a little bit which she did do for awhile, with her making the fans be a little quieter when they joined. Eventually kk was asking someone to sing sexxy red with the fan asking kk to dance to her singing... Taylor woke up grumpy and Paige had to get her back to sleep

@melpthatsme @rebecca-woso

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x sister!oc #paige buckets #starlighttsv’s works ✍️

197 notes · View notes

accihoe · 29 days ago

Text

Christmas Surprise

Pairing: Sergeant!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: I don't want to spoil it, read and find out 💕

Warnings: mentions of war and army stuff

A/n: Merry Christmas, folks. I hope you all have a blessed day. I think it's kind of obvious what the story is about, but I hope you like it.

Read this pls❤️

Xxxx

"It's a pity James won't be making it this year. He's scarcely been around for Christmases since Papa passed, and Y/N seemed to have changed that, I thought. Though I suppose he is part of the army now, and they need him for war and all that."

"I was under the impression that all soldiers in training got Christmas off. But I know nothing about military matters, so don't trust my judgment."

Y/N stood in the hallway as her sisters-in-law spoke, Rebecca and Rudy (I made Rudy up for the sake of the story). Her heart beat heavily in her chest as she stared at the framed sketch of James Buchanan Barnes, drawn by Steven. G. R. .

With a smooth of her hands down her apron, she walked into the kitchen. The chatter instantly and awkwardly shifted to the peas that stood on the counter, and Rudy scattered to look for the rolling pin, that was tucked into the front pocket of her apron.

"It's alright, I heard. And Rudy's right. Jamie was supposed to come home four days ago, but for some reason him and his commando friends got refused dismissal or something."

Rebecca sighed, setting down her eggnog, and went to Y/N, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Y/N/N,"

"Becca, it's quite alright. I really understand your concern, I do. I just feel bad for Jamie. He often spoke of his fondness for Christmas."

Rebecca gave another sad sigh and looked at Judy, who understood the silence.

"Well, on a different note. We've managed to scrounge together some canned versions of James's favourites. It ain't the real deal,"

"But it's pretty damn near."

Rebecca finished Rudy's sentence, allowing a little humour to fill the space. Y/N chuckled lightly, picking up a can of peas. This Christmas would be their 5th without Rudy's husband Joe, their 3rd without their father, and their 16th Christmas without their mother. And now, it would be their 3rd with Y/N, and 1st without Bucky. The three sisters (minus Y/N, merely Bucky's girlfriend, but they went by that nickname), were left to spend Christmas by themselves.

A knock at the door pulled the three women from their thoughts. They shared a look: that was not a feminine knock. It could mean one of three things;

•James was home by some miracle

•They were about to geat dreaded news about James

•The old man next door sent by his wife for sugar

•Rebecca's secret admirer (though this thought was only shared by Y/N and Ruby, and had James been there, him too)

"I'll go get it."

Y/N rushed to the door, heart pounding excitedly. To her dismay, it was Tom, the butcher's son. Y/N's heart sank and her smile faded to an annoyed expression.

"Tom. What can I do for you?"

"Merry Christmas, beautiful."

Y/N sighed, about to close the door when he handed her an envelope. Y/N cocked a brow, hesitant to take it.

"What's this?"

"It's from the post office. Mr. Bennett asked me to deliver it to you. Says the sender pleaded."

Y/N reached to take it but Tom pulled it back.

"Uh uh, first, Malcolm sent you something, and you need to take it before I give you your letter."

Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes.

"I am not obligated to take it."

"Well I'm not obligated to give this letter to you. It's just a favour."

Y/N narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips into a fine line.

"Fine."

Tom picked up a wrapped tin box and handed it to Y/N. Her gut sank, she knew what was in the tin. Tom placed the letter on the box and left. Y/N retrieved inside silently and placed her belongings upstairs in her room. She locked her door and ripped open the paper, sighing heavily when she saw the note on top of the expensive boots she'd been dreaming about.

Just a glimpse of what a real man could give you. Merry Christmas.

The note read.

She felt too bad to open the letter she knew was from James.

-Fast forward to eating time-

After the girls had dished up and said Grace, they sat at the table, ready to eat. Another knock sounded at the door, a man's knock. But a specific pattern belonging to only one man.

"James!"

The three girls said together and got up, but Y/N beat the rest to the door. The door was jerked open, blowing Y/N's hair from her face from the friction. Her stomach swarmed with fiery butterflies when her eyes registered the man before them.

"Buck,"

His signature grin spread across his face before he stepped forward, dropping his bags. Before she knew it, her lover was crushing her bones (just about) in a hug. Y/N's arms wrapped around his neck as he stood on a step lower than her. She felt his figure move as he inhaled her scent.

"What are you doing here? I thought you weren't allowed?"

"I'm not. But no command from any general jackass is gonna stop me from seeing my baby on Christmas."

Y/N laughed, pulling away to flick his forehead before hugging him again. The 'three sisters' made quick work of fixing Bucky a plate while he freshened up upstairs. Y/N couldn't keep her eyes from James as they ate the lunch. She could see the beginning of stress on his features, the slight fatigue from training, but there was something else.

He'd always been a pro at masking his true feelings, but the usual "Bucky shimmer" in his eyes was missing. He tried hard not to lock eyes with Y/N over lunch, but he couldn't keep his eyes from her. Though it'd been a mere two weeks, he'd missed her.

"Becks? I feel something is the matter with James. But I don't want to worry him asking, or pry, he just- oh I don't know he seems off."

Rebecca put down the plate she was washing and turned to Y/N with her own signature look.

"If anyone knows him well, it's you. So I'd say to trust your gut."

With that, Rebecca returned to washing the dishes. Y/N smiled faintly at the tilted floors of the Barnes' kitchen and nodded to herself.

"If it's alright with you, I think I'm going to have a word with him. See if he's alright."

"It's fine by me. Judy's the one you should be worryin' about. Now go, shoo, before she comes back from her rendezvous in the powder room (yes I'm implying that she's taking a dump)."

With a giggle shared between the younger girls Y/N scurried upstairs, knocking on the door of the guest bedroom, her bedroom for the holidays.

"Give me a moment."

James called back.

"Jamie, sugar, it's me."

"In that case give me two moments."

Bucky sassed. At least he was being himself. Y/N pushed the door open, thankful it wasn't locked. She instantly knew what was off. The stupid boots from Malcolm.

"What happened to respecting a man's privacy?"

He frowned at her.

"Darling I don't believe you get much of that in the army, and besides, I don't want us to spend the little time we have together on the blessing of a day brawling about a stupid third party inconvenience."

"So the fella you've been seeing is called 'stupid third party inconvenience?'"

Y/N shook her head with a soft laugh.

"I'm not seeing anybody, James."

"Then what's this?"

He pointed toward the boots, that remained untouched. Y/N sighed, putting the lid over them.

"My letter is right next to them. You didn't even open it. Though perhaps a mere letter that I split my ass to get to you isn't 'manly' enough is it?"

"James, language, and please, let me explain."

His furrowed brows dropped slightly, and Y/N took his silence as her opportunity to explain.

"You remember that rich kid whose father owns the country club?"

Bucky nodded apprehensively.

"I accidentally knocked my bag off a table a few weeks back, and he assisted me in picking up my belongings. He hasn't left me alone since. He's had his friend, or more like servant Tom deliver things to me ever since. Tom wouldn't give me your letter unless I accepted his gift. And I knew what it was going to be, but I was so horrified at his gesture, that I felt too ashamed to open your letter. I'm sorry."

".....Well he's not man enough to enlist."

James said after a moment of silence. Y/N chuckled through her nose and nodded.

"And he's not man enough to deliver the gifts himself."

Y/N nodded, smoothing a hand down James's arm, and then took ahold of his hand.

"You're all I want, Bucky. Believe you me. There's no overly priced pair of boots that could make me change my mind about that."

It was Bucky's turn to laugh at her comment.

"But does he know you've got a suitor?"

Y/N nodded, an irritated expression across her features.

"He knew when I dropped my bag, he knew when I was at the train station to send you off and he waited there to talk to me. And the gifts have ampled since your departure."

Bucky's jaw ticked, and Y/N felt his fingers clasped around hers twitch.

"What do you say you and I pay him a visit and return his gift?"

"Isn't that a little rude, especially on Christmas day?"

"Dollface, we're amidst a world war, I couldn't give a damn about being polite to a jackass who's tryna steal my girl."

"Buck you know he'll never succeed, right?"

"I do trust so. But still, I want to rub it in his face."

"James, baby, come on. If we give him a reaction, he'll probably like it. It'll give him the impression that he's getting to you."

"You were always the clever one in this relationship. So what do you suggest we do, miss smarty pants?"

Y/N hummed, pretending to think as she rubbed her chin.

"Well, for starters, you never call me that again. And, perhaps you and I dress nicely, beg Becca to use her camera, and post him a picture of us with Christmas regards written on the back."

"Not mean enough."

"There's a twist?"

James cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.

"I'm wearing the boots he sent."

James's face broke out into a boyish grin.

"Sounds more like it. I'm in. Get dressed, dollface, I'll use my baby blues on Becks."

"Work your magic Sergeant."

Y/N called as he left the room.

Xxxx

Fin. Merry, merry Christmas, people. I've derailed a little, I'm sorry. Never forget the true meaning behind Christmas, and never forget that you're loved.

Lots of love and best wishes

(Yes I am planning on a pt.2 depending on how well this does)

141 notes · View notes

mandy-asimp · 7 months ago

Text

Needed me

Emily Prentiss x fashion designer!reader (they/them)

Warnings: angst, fluff, happy ending

A/n: they dragging babygirl through hell this season 😔

"I'm sorry, but she is not my responsibility anymore. I can't be there to tell her it's going to be ok when she couldn't do that for me." They grumbled as they sat across from Rossi.

He sighed, "she's dealing with a lot."

"And I wasn't?" They didn't let him get further. "I get that you all are going to support her, she's your teammate. But you all didn't know her as your fiancé. The absolute love of your life who for the love of fucks, left you at your lowest."

The old man wasn't going to give up. He believed that there was still apart of them that would cave. "Y/n, you know I wouldn't have flown out here if I didn't think it was serious. She needs you."

It was them who sighed now. Standing up from the table. Leaning across to kiss the old man's cheek. "I'm sorry Dave. Unless she is at the point of tears and just giving up, I will not be roped back into it. Not again. I deserve better. I'll see you around."

And they were off. They never looked back to that table, knowing they were too close to facing...but they couldn't help but wonder what was so bad. Then there was what she did, how it flashed so quickly.

She came home that day to find her fiancé in tears. Body racking with sobs. "Babe? Baby what's wrong?" She was quick to drop her stuff and come crouch in front of her.

"Everything I've worked for it's gone." They got out between wiping away tears that seemed to never end.

Emily frowned, "what? Y/n, what happened?" She was trying to think of anything this bad. Had they been told bad news? Something someone said?

They picked up their phone and with shaky hands pulled up the news, a video of a burnt down building. "The studio...everything in it. All of it...this sets everything back..." they calmed their sobs to hiccups and a few more tears. "I'm absolutely ruined. This was supposed to be it. This was the break I was gonna get and then actually get to enter the real fashion world. I was going to go somewhere and I was going to make it," they spewed out so many worries. Mentions of how much time they'll need to restart, how this was the such an important thing.

Emily though, she froze up. There was so much happening she didn't know what to do. She's never witness them spiral out before. Within the four years, they knew how to keep themselves calm. Even if they couldn't, it's never been this intense. It scared her.

She knew it was a reasonable response to what had happened. Their entire future just went up into a crisp. Everything in her wanted to try and comfort them, truly she wanted to figure it out together.

Yet, the few bricks of the wall she'd built had more impact. She fell back behind it and regretted her next choice before it even happened. After that, Emily swore she blacked out because when she realized what happened, she was in a hotel room alone.

Y/n was just as shocked. The woman they were about to confess their undying love to just walked out. Not a single word said, but just gone. Even when they tried to ask questions, she gave them nothing.

For an entire week, Emily didn't try to reach out or fix anything. Instead she read every text that came through. Even the one that said all her shit would be on the curb for her. The one that set in what she did was calling off the wedding.

That was only a few years ago. The two had completely moved on, or at least Y/n tried to. Never wanting to look back on how much pain was caused, but apart of them wouldn't let themselves fall in love again.

But here they were. Sitting in the apartment, trying to sketch their next line, and only being able to think of Emily. Rossi came and he wouldn't have if it was serious. If they were to go to her, it would be unwrapping the bandages on a wound that hasn't been fully healed.

"No. You are stronger than this." They whispered to themselves. Staring at the sketchbook once again.

If they did...there would be a chance for closure. It would be nice to know why she ran. Why she couldn't just stick it out. They would've been the most badass couple. The FBI unit chief and a famous designer.

If they did...they would get the chance to finally express their anger. But it wouldn't be the right time if she's suffering. How is she suffering? What is going through her mind?

"Fuck." They shouted before getting up. Heading into their room to start packing a suitcase. Dialing Dave at the same time.

"Rossi"

"When are you flying back to Virginia?"

"I'll have the car there in ten. Thank you Y/n."

The call ended quickly, and Y/n was left to grumble. "Oh thank you Y/n! Thank you for having to be the damn adult once again. Thank you for willingly putting yourself through hell for her!" They had a nasty taste on their tongue as they spoke. It's honestly what silenced them.

Throwing a few outfits into a suitcase with the basic needs, they zipped it and began to pack a second bag. Grabbing everything needed to continue working on their summer line. This was done more carefully, with more precision on where everything went in.

Their eyes scanned over the packed bag, making sure everything was in there right. Right before Dave texted the car was out front.

One more sigh was let out before the apartment was locked up. The start of what might be either the biggest, or best choice made.

Emily was in her office. She was lost. She was loosing her mind over this case. Her wack-ass neighbor had hit a nerve she would've never expected.

It was just a mess now. Whoever was behind all this was winning and she couldn't figure it out. She was just fucked.

"Hey...how bad?" Rossi had popped into the room. Watching as the woman pulled out a box of cigarettes and lit one. "That bad?"

"Restricted duty until they see fit, so the BAU is yours." She tried to act calm, trying to keep it together infront of him.

Rossi huffed, "I don't want it. I'm not fit for it."

Emily pinched her nose. "None of us are! Hell! Me most of all. I need you to step up here Dave." She just needed him to make this easier.

"There has to be something?"

"This is happening." She shook her head and turned her back, her purse being a lame excuse for a distraction . The walls couldn't stay up as she felt herself begin to crumble.

A soft hand on her back made her gasp. She expected to turn and see Rossi, someone who she could only go so far with. Yet, her eyes were met with Y/n. She couldn't help it. Her legs gave out as she just sobbed into their chest on the floor.

It killed Y/n to see her like this. Emily was known for her tough demeanor and being able to keep it together at work. But that's what the team knew. Y/n knew her as their fiancé. They saw her breakdown at least once a month from the case build ups.

This however, Y/n could tell this was months on months of a build up. This was a low point, one that they would be there for.

It was half an hour before Emily could get out anything. Her brown eyes, wide and glassy, looked up to them. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was weak and defeated.

"I was told you needed me." Was all Y/n answered with. Naturally, their thumb wiped away the tears. "Why don't you sit on the couch and I'll make you some tea, hmm? Then you can tell me what's got you so...low."

The older got up and moved towards the couch. Y/n leaving the room to make the drink, remembering how Emily liked it like it was their own preferred. Within five minutes they were back and handing over the tea.

They stood, leaning against the desk. "Was it Brian again?"

"How did you...?" The question trailed off as Emily took her first sip. Trying to not let the warm feeling rush through her. They remembered her tea flawlessly.

Y/n glanced out the window, "I saw him lingering on the way in." Emily laughed a little at that. "But really....are you ok?"

"I've failed as a team leader. This job has corrupted me into breaking laws and lying to my team. I'm chasing with nothing but a conspiracy theory. I sounded crazy to the biggest conspiracy theorist in Virginia. I've been benched because of him. I just...I don't know what to do anymore." She so easily confessed. Her head falling into her hands for what felt like the millionth time today. "This can't be how I go out."

Internally, Y/n battled with going over there and holding her or keeping this distance. It put them back once again. They wouldn't be able to live with themselves if they did what she did, it just wouldn't make anything right. So they went over and held her again. This time placing an understanding kiss to her temple.

"It's not. I mean, it will be if you let it. And trust me when I tell you, you're going to want to let it. But that's not Emily Prentiss. She has been through so much worse than some theorist. This will be a fresh start. A chance to start anew. You will take it, and you will figure out this case. You will get your guy or whatever you call it, unsub? This is not your lowest. It's gonna feel like it, but it's just a low before the high. It's all going to be ok." They spoke from their heart. Even as it ached to be back in this position. Even as tears fell from their own eyes.

They were sharing her pain without wanting to, but needing to. Needing to let her know this wasn't it. Needing to let her know that someone was her to share her burdens again.

For the first time, both felt connected entirely. Beating with one heart. Thinking with one mind. Feeling with one body.

That night they had fallen asleep on the couch in her office. Holding onto one another like it would all go away as long as they were together.

Y/n had woken randomly, searching for any source of time. Rubbing their eyes as it was two in the morning. Emily didn't have to be back her till at least eight. They let their eyes fall to Emily. How she seemed so peaceful lying on top of them. She needed this more than Y/n had thought.

So, without much debate, Y/n was carrying the sleeping beauty and her bags out. Doing everything to prevent her from waking, which wasn't hard as she was out cold.

They drove in silence back to where they were staying. Knowing that if it came to it, they could drive to get her an outfit. The silence gave them time to really think. What were they doing? This is the exact opposite of what they were expecting.

Was Emily going to easily fit her way right back? It wouldn't be fair. She caused them the pain and yet they still love her. They would, without a doubt, let her as well. All she had to do was ask. It was just unfair, and they were going to live with it.

Emily stirred in the nice duvet. Confused as it wasn't hers and far too nice to be a hotel. She knew this duvet. She slept in it many times before.

"The coffee is being made. And breakfast is on the way." That voice she missed hearing in the morning.

She hummed while stretching, "how long have you been up?" She finally opened her eyes and seeing Y/n in sweats and a baby tee. Their casual lounge wear.

"Since maybe five. These sketches don't finish themselves unfortunately." They sat down at the desk that was perfectly illuminated by the sun at anytime of the day. "Oh, also your team is coming here tonight. You're taking the day according to Dave. He said it's his order and you should follow it."

"Why are they coming here?" She swung her feet out the bed. Her head turning to take in the room. "You kept your apartment here? What about living in New York?"

"My home in New York makes this look like a doll house. Smallest is the home in California. I move with the seasons." They simply explained. Frowning when Emily laughed.

"You're such a snob. Three houses? Really?" She got up and came to look at the sketches. Not saying anything as Y/n just began sketching again.

She couldn't help but stare at them. They made that concentration face still. Where the creativity would float in their eyes as the rest of their face was resting.

Y/n could feel her eyes on them. It wasn't anything out of their routine. Oh how they fell so easily into the routines.

"I'm a big fashion designer. I'm constantly doing something somewhere else. It's like you, Ms. FBI. Always away doing something," they hummed. Never once did they look up to her, they seemed to be battling the inevitable.

Emily didn't say anything, she just took in the sketches one more time and was off to the bathroom.

Both in their own thoughts and silence. Neither one knowing how to approach the situation of each other. Emily not knowing how to go about work. Y/n not knowing how to go about the designs. There were many thoughts floating in the air.

They let the silence stay around as they waited for breakfast to show up. Emily still clueless on why the team was coming. And she could've asked, but the thrill of a surprise put together by Y/n seemed to make her against it.

Y/n had been trying to sketch within the silence, but knowing Emily was only a few feet away made it hard.

"Babe! I'm home!" She called into the apartment. Noting how quiet it was. "Y/n? Are you even here?" A text saying 'study' came through, leading her through the quiet home.

When she pushed open the door, she found several mannequins with different outfits all lined up. "Isn't it beautiful?" Y/n hummed from the table of gems. They seemed to have been hand sewing each one on.

"Stunning. You didn't have all this done before I left?" Emily came to get a closer look. Being able to see the glimmer of proudness in Y/n's eyes. "What's it inspired by?"

Y/n didn't answer, instead just took int their work. Each outfit was inspired by their favorite memory with Emily. Between outfits they wore that night, or how they felt in the moment. The line was a collection of their love.

"Alrighty, leave me in the dark till it's released. Are you hungry? I imagine you've been to busy working to eat?" Emily left, getting comfortable.

Y/n looked over the sketches one more time. Sighing and dropping their head with a loud bump. They hadn't struggled this hard with sketches since when the two had first split.

They pushed up from their spot and headed into the kitchen. Rubbing their eyes to try and see anything clearly. They lost focus as they stared at the working coffee pot. This trip was already off on a different path than they wanted.

"If you want...I can leave." Emily's voice broke into the silent kitchen. Her head hung low and her hands picking at each other. She looked out the window briefly, bracing herself to meet the others stare.

Only, it wasn't on her. Instead Y/n moved around to get coffee, their back to the woman. "If you want to, I can drive you. But by no means are you gonna get kicked out." Two mugs got pulled down. They were matching ones Emily had gotten for them once upon a time ago.

They frowned to the memories of both mugs. There was a moment with a sigh. They forgot how much they avoided coming here and how they left everything almost the same.

The coffee was poured and the mug was handed over. Now they met each other's eyes. Emily wearing a frown as Y/n tried to keep their shit together.

"Unfortunately for me and fortunately for you, I couldn't kick you out even if you stabbed me. But I wouldn't try, we both have too much to loose for that." Y/n kept their distance still. Eyes either on Emily or anywhere else in the house. It was getting quiet again and it wasn't enjoyable. They rubbed their eyes again, "I need to get back to work. Feel free to make yourself comfortable but not too loud."

They were off and back in their study before Emily could even get anything out. "What about breakfast?" She called out and after, following herself.

Y/n flipped over their phone, "it's about ten minutes away." Their voice was cold and stale. Short of the comforting Emily had heard last night.

It confused her. "You are so confusing." She mumbled. Her head shaking just a bit at the cold demeanor.

"Funny coming from you." Y/n shot back almost instantly. A nasty taste washing over their tongue again. They sucked their tooth before turning around. Eyes immediately locking Emily in. "If this is confusing for you, let me tell you what's confusing for me. The fact that when my entire future burnt into literal crisps, the only thing you, my fiancé at the time, quite literally walked out and said nothing. For a week you then ghost me, mind you I was the one you were marrying in less than a month, and then after years of not looking back, David Rossi shows up. You know what THE David Rossi asked me? To come help you. And here I am, trying my absolute best to keep my shit together so you don't have to worry about another thing. Because you know what Emily? I care for you enough to be there for you." They spewed everything out, hands being thrown around in dramatics as their chest heaved.

Emily was too stunned to speak. What was she to say? Y/n was right. She left when they needed her the most and left without a word. And yet, here they were giving her nothing but what they always have, love.

"I'm sorry," was all that she could manage.

They only scoffed, "whatever. Breakfast is almost here." Y/n shook their head and sat back down at the desk. "You can put my food in the fridge."

"Y/n..." Emily sounded broken, even more than last night. It killed Y/n, but they deserved their reason, and she knew that.

Cautiously, she moved in closer. Coming to Y/n's left and sitting down on the floor. Her knees bent just enough to rest her arms on.

"I panicked...I had never seen you break down like that before..I didn't know how to respond and I just fell behind a wall and did what I always did..I ran from it instead of facing it. And it wasn't fair to you. I truly have no excuse for what I did, except I was a coward." She spoke quietly into the air. Feeling tears prick her eyes as the feeling of guilt and embarrassment kicked her hard. "I only can say sorry, and I say it knowing it will never be enough to make up for all of the pain I may have caused you."

Both had taken the next moment to sit in silence and process everything. Y/n had tears falling from the moment Emily had sat down next to them. Emily had let her tears fall once she finished.

A few beats had passed and Y/n had let their hand fall to Emily's head. Sliding to her cheek as she looked up. "You Emily Prentiss, have caused more pain than I can bring up again. And I hope you have learned from it. I hope you didn't do it to anyone else and you won't do it to anyone else." They had this frown she had never seen, one she knew she had caused.

"I'm so sorry Y/n.." she quietly cried leaning into the touch. Feeling the warmth of the designers hands. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," they hummed as tears fell down their rosy cheeks. "I know you are."

Hours had gone by. Filled with nothing but tears and sniffles. Emily had moved from the floor when she began sobbing, into Y/n's lap. Her face buried into their neck as they shushed her to asleep.

Y/n had tucked her back into bed and continued to work on the designs. Pulling out the old sketches from their scrapped line. Staring over each outfit that was designed after their love.

The mannequins were in the studio, locked in a specific room. They questioned if now was the right time to bring them all back out. If it was, they knew it was ready to be launched, giving them more time on the line that sat unfinished.

They picked up their phone, "Jackie? I need you and Joana to bring me Project L.E.P. The key is in my desk, bottom left drawer, hidden under her picture, tied with a red ribbon. It's hard to miss, the ribbon has L.E.P in gold on the end."

"Are we launching it?!" The assistant grew overly excited. "Oh! Y/n you have no idea how wonderful this is!"

"Is that Y/n?" The other assistant, Joana came into the room.

Y/n assumed Jackie nodded, "yes! They want us to bring L.E.P to their home."

"They're launching it? But then that would mean Em- Oh my God!" The phone was snatched and it was Joana now. "Did you guys talk?! I want to know everything! How did you lay it down?!"

"Joana." Y/n simply cut the assistant from bombarding with questions. "When I see you, I will answer your questions. I need that line, bring the truck with them all. We're going to review them."

"Yes boss!" They both said before hanging up. Y/n knew they were geeking out in the studio at this point.

They assumed it would be at least half an hour before the two got there. Giving enough time to finally take a well needed break and eat something.

While they warmed up the breakfast, Emily had stirred awake. She laid in the bed, taking in the familiar smell of Y/n's shampoo on the pillows. She began to think over everything they had said.

They said it was unfortunate that they couldn't kick her out even if they wanted to. What did that truly mean?

Emily realized, they've already gone through the hardest conversation, this one would be nothing. She swung the covers over and began to look for Y/n. Checking the study first.

Her curiosity for the better of her. She came close to the desk, looking over the designs. There were a few that had yet to be finished, and then there was one in red that really caught her eye. She picked it up, scanning over the paper and realizing she's seen it before. On the bottom had L.E.P written in gold. Emily couldn't place where she's seen it, but she knew for a fact she had.

Placing it down, she left to the kitchen next. Finding Y/n dancing slightly to their own tune. She watched as they prepared their food before acknowledging her entrance.

"Would you like yours as well? I can heat it up?" They offered without even looking over before grabbing the second meal. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good...I do have a question though," she came in closer. Leaning against the counter while staying out the way. Y/n looked over, showing she had their attention. "When you said..."

"I meant it." They knew her thoughts better than anyone. Emily swore in another life they were either a profiler, or a mind reader. "If you want to stay, I'm not going to stop you. If you want to leave, I will drive you. I'm here because you needed me, and I think....apart of me still needed you. If I wanted to be over you, I would've been. I know I would've been. I would've cleaned out everything that ties to you, but I didn't."

"When we ended...I thought that everything was going to go to shit. My career was caught in a fire, my relationship was ending, and I began to spiral. I began to just accept that this was how I was going out. Would never be a big fashion designer, never have a love life, nothing to live for....but I thought of it as letting you win without a fight. And that wasn't how I wanted you to win."

"I don't deserve you," she had whispered. Her head tilting and her silver waves fell to the side.

It was the first time Y/n had actually taken her in entirely. How she aged and yet was still the most beautiful woman they had ever come across. It made them want to just kiss her and tell her that she was welcomed home always.

"And yet...you have me." They sighed, hand coming to cup her cheek. "And maybe thats why I've been so confusing. Because I'm supposed to be mad at you, I really really want to..but anytime I try to, this nasty taste fills my mouth. Like I don't mean anything bad I try and say. And I don't."

"Y/n..." she furrowed her brows. This was more confessing than she had expected. "You don't have to tell me anything-"

"Damn it Emily," they groaned. "I'm not telling you this because I think you need it, I'm telling yo this because I need it. I'm being selfish. I'm loosing my shit with you just standing here. Do you know how easy it is for you to walk right back into my life? When I said I was going to love you forever, I meant it. I meant it with everything then. And I'm going to mean it with everything now." They had their own tears now. Finally caving into the painful feeling of being in love.

Emily was stunned, but she wasn't going to miss her second chance. She pulled Y/n in by the pockets of their sweats, standing on her tip-toes to meet their lips in a passionate kiss.

They both felt airy as they got lost in the feeling of home. Holding each other so impossibly close that it was undeniable they were staying together.

Once they pulled apart they just stared at the other. Both trying to find some answer to what they were feeling. Was there anything to say now?

Y/n came out the trance first, a smile gracing their lips. "Why don't we eat? Jackie and Joana are gonna be here soon and will probably want to question us."

"What are they bringing you?" She held Y/n there for a little longer. Enjoying the closeness and safeness. "Fabrics?"

"Project L.E.P." Was all they answered before heating up the other box of food. "I think I'll release it before the one I'm working on now."

Emily watched them move, "what does the L.E.P mean?"

Y/n was quick to shrug. "It's just the name that Jackie and Joana gave it." They dismissed the topic. Eyes trained to the microwave as it counted down the minute. But the small smirk they held told her they knew exactly what it meant. "I got you your usual."

They handed over the box and the two prepped before heading to the couch. Sitting knee to knee as they ate and watched whatever was on.

It was an enjoyable moment, and one Y/n would remember. And that's when the next line came to them. They tried to be subtle to finish up their food before rushing into the study. They grabbed a sticky note, it was red, and they scribbled on it before slapping it against the window.

Soon designs started to be taped up to the windows. The evening sun peaking through the papers. The ideas began to flow and make sense again. They felt relieved at the feeling.

The front door had opened, and the two assistance were quickly to make their presences known.

"Oh my! Y/n! You dog!" Jackie's voice filled the entire apartment at the sight of Emily. Her head snapped to Joana. "This is so not real!"

Y/n forgot how young her assistance were compared to them. They walked out shaking their head. "How many mannequins did you bring?"

"We figured you still had six here, we actually know you do because you never returned them. So we brought the other six. Then each piece is stored in its own bag and box." They stood tall and in line. "We just need to grab everything."

"Well let's get to it. Six mannequins and twelve boxes are not getting up here that easily. Em, you'll stay up here and make the trips from the elevator back. Joana you'll be on elevator duty. Jackie you're unloading and I'll carry everything to the elevator."

It was the perfect team work. And within no time they had everything upstairs and the three were working on setting them up facing the window. Emily, having no hand in sewing or fashion just watched the three move in harmony.

Joana and Jackie worked to just get the outfits on the mannequins as Y/n did touch ups. They worked until the night fell. And it was perfect.

"Y/n you've outdone yourself still. Are we really ready to release project L.E.P?" Joana walked around the designs and took in every seeming detail. "Truly a genius."

Y/n had a glimmer of pride in their eyes. "Yeah. I think it's time." They only broke away to look at Emily who sat on the couch. "What do you think?"

She had dropped her gaze to look at the twelve outfits. "They're absolutely beautiful. They have been since when you first had them all laid out." She stood to come next to them. "Are you ready to release them?"

Y/n inhaled with a smile, exhaling their worries. "Yeah." They grabbed Emily's hand. "I am ready." They were confident.

"So...what are you gonna call it?" Emily went closer to examine the detail as well. The room was silent as everyone thought of something.

Jackie hummed, "mmm what if we keep L.E.P?" She threw out. "It holds meaning, it's cute, it's secretive, secretive is sexy."

"L.E.P in gold writing, your writing. We tease it with close up pictures first. Then we host a big launch party and have them all come out on a runway." Joana began to plan everything out. Already seeing a vision.

"But what is L.E.P?" Emily butted in. Getting silence and all eyes on Y/n, who was looking down to Emily.

"Loving Emily Prentiss," they only could smile even kinder at the reveal. "It'll be the start of a collection. The E.P collection. It's bright, it's new, it's warm and giving. That's how it'll start."

The doorbell had rang. "That must be your team. You two are dismissed. Thank you for the help today. Start your magic and fill me in in the morning. Love you both," they bowed their head. Watching as the two assistants began to pack up.

"Um, Y/n? I have nothing to wear?" Emily glanced down at the big t-shirt and sleep shorts.

"Your outfit was laid out on the bed before we even started touch ups. You go change and I'll greet everyone." Y/n shooed as they moved to the door. Opening and being greeted first with Dave.

"How is she?" He placed a kiss to their cheek before leading everyone in. They all seemed worried at first.

"She's better today. And that's what matters." They hummed. Moving towards the kitchen to begin cooking for everyone.

Stopping at the instant gasp and whispers. The team had seen the designs lined up. "Wait..your the Y/n? Like designer Y/n?" Penelope stared in awe at the outfits.

"Guilty. That's the next line. I guess a sneak peak." They shrugged, smiling as Dave began to prep to help cook. "You can get close, everything is set in stone at this point."

Just then Emily had walked out in a one-of-one dress. Y/n had designed it and worked the first night to make it for her. Telling themselves that it was either a goodbye gift or a welcome home gift.

She looked stunning, and Y/n could take their eyes off of her. Their best model walked into and began to get wine glasses down.

"Emily, you never mentioned Y/n was a fashion designer?!" Penelope was still caught on the fact. Earning a laugh from Y/n.

"Ouch, four years and almost married and you didn't tell them about my job?" They came near Emily, crouching next to her to get out some seasonings.

Emily looked down to them, taking in the moment of being taller for once. "She would've flipped out. I also figured she would've down a background check on you without my knowing." Both glancing to the bubbly woman.

"I...I didn't because I wanted to respect her boundaries." She got out, looking to everyone else who seemed to have knowing looks. "Don't tell me..."

"We all...kinda knew." Tara broke the news, hugging the friend as the look of betrayal washed over her.

Y/n had shrugged from their spot. "I had no part in this." They cleared their name.

That night the team had laughed, eaten, drank a few bottles of wines, and enjoyed a nice round of desserts.

A few months has passed and Emily and Y/n began to work things out. She appreciated Y/n's efforts as well even with all the press and media.

There had been an article that really stood out.

And why did you name it L.E.P?

Well....when I had made it I was with this amazing woman. Each piece was meant to represent a moment of our relationship.

And why are you just now releasing it?

We had honestly gotten into a fight a month or so before our wedding. We ended up splitting and I just couldn't come to scrap it. So I locked it into a room until now.

And what made you choose now?

Because she needed me and I realized I would always need her. And this is my gift to her. A token of my love with what I was meant to be doing. Fashion. And what better way than to express love through fashion?

Emily had came over and smothered Y/n with all the love she could after reading that. It made her look at the entire line differently and hold it near to her heart just as well.

They laid next to each other in bed, just staring and having a wordless conversation. But Emily could see it written on Y/n's face. They loved her. And that made her see everything worth fighting for.

"I love you." She had whispered before realizing.

Y/n smiled. "I know." They switched to a cocky smile. Pulling her closer by the waist and bending her just slightly back. "And I love you too. Always will."

They shared one of their most passionate kisses that night. It sparked a new sense of love. Mature, mannered, and workable. As long as they had each other, it would always be workable.

#reader insert #fanfic #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #x y/n #criminal minds evolution

145 notes · View notes

queensunshinee · 7 months ago

Text

Time Of Our Lives || Part 16

Part 16:

Patrick heard Liana vomiting faintly and it made him jump out of bed. "Li, is everything okay?" he asked from outside the bathroom. "Everything's great, go back to sleep," she stammered, and he sighed. He went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, entered the bathroom, and saw her sitting on the floor, holding her hair with one hand and gripping the edge of the toilet with the other, trying to steady herself.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I got you," he mumbled, placing the glass on the sink and sitting down next to Liana, holding her hair in place and tracing gentle shapes on her shoulder. She was shaking from the effort as her free hand also moved to hold onto the toilet.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled after a few minutes, not moving her head out of fear of vomiting again. "Don't be silly, is it something you ate?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he handed her the water. "There was only regular milk at work, I probably drank one cup of coffee too many yesterday," she mumbled, and as soon as she finished speaking, she vomited again, and they found themselves in the same position.

"Come on," after a few minutes of this, he helped her get up from the floor. Patrick spread toothpaste on her toothbrush and put it in her mouth, starting to move it side to side. Liana could cry. She felt the tears gathering at the back of her eyes, in moments like these she remembers how gentle and sensitive Patrick can be. If he only wants to, if he cares enough.

He stood in the bathroom while she showered and didn't take his eyes off her, not in a sexual way but out of genuine concern. Because at the end of the day, Patrick loves her, even if sometimes he doesn't know how to show it.

"Shall we go back to sleep?" he asked hopefully. "There's no point, I feel better and in half an hour, I would've had to get up anyway," she shrugged as he handed her a towel. "Li, maybe you should stay home today?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "I'm on a schedule and in a few days, the construction starts, I need to get there to fix some drawings. If I'm lucky, I might be able to leave earlier," she smiled at him. "I don't know..." he tried to protest. Just ten minutes ago, she was shaking in his hands, and now he has to let her get dressed and leave the house. "I'm fine Pat, really. I'll drink tea today, and I'll be okay," she gave him a small kiss on the lips and left the bathroom, concluding the conversation.

"Then there must be a pillar here, otherwise the whole thing will collapse, and we didn't draw it in the sketch." Art heard Liana's voice from afar, like an echo. He automatically found himself walking towards her, because that's why Art came. He didn't really care about the construction schedule; as far as he was concerned, the longer this thing took, the more time he had to come and see her work. An excuse to be close without being creepy.

"Hey," he gave a small wave, keeping his distance from her conversation but letting her know he was there. "Mr. Donaldson," she mumbled, and so did the guy working with her. Art could say that nothing happens in his body when she calls him 'Mr. Donaldson'. That formality in front of people doesn't affect him at all. It doesn't send a little shiver through him. No memories surface, and he certainly doesn't imagine that one day she might be 'Mrs. Donaldson'. He could say all that, but he tries not to lie too much.

"Miss Levy," he returned a toothy smile, and she walked towards him. "Why are you here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where? On the land I bought?" he was amused. Now that she was closer, he could examine her. He wondered if he would ever get used to the fact that she needed glasses now when she worked. Or the small wrinkle that formed on the side of her mouth from the number of times she smiled and laughed. He wished it was because of him. Too many times he thinks about the number of things he could tell her that would make her laugh enough to deepen that wrinkle.

"You look... green." he mumbled after a few seconds. She was pale, even for her. "It's January, I turn green in January." she retorted. "Liana." he tried a more official tone, a bit more concerned. "I'm fine, Arthur, let it go. Can I ask a favor?" she asked, looking at him with big eyes. Making him raise an eyebrow. There are very few things Liana could ask of him that he wouldn't agree to do. She must know that by now. "Always." he said quicker than his ego was happy to hear. "Can you give me Tashi's number?" she asked and saw his surprised look. "Why? Are you trying to steal my coach for your lazy boyfriend?" he asked, feigning amusement. He didn't understand the endgame of this move. Overall, he didn't understand what Liana had to talk about with Tashi; Liana hates tennis, and from what Art knows, Tashi enjoys talking mostly about tennis. "don't call Patrick lazy, can you give it to me or not?" she didn't answer him. "Will it hurt my interests?" he asked, pulling out his phone. "I would never do that, Art." she sighed, and he sent her the number. There are very few things Art Donaldson wouldn't give to Liana Levy.

Liana waved for a second when she saw Tashi entering the café where they had agreed to meet. She couldn't help but feel tense and wondered how to calm her jittery leg. Why couldn't she just act like a normal person and be more…cool.

"Hey, Liana, what's up? Sorry if I'm late." Tashi was a bit confused. A bit was an understatement. Tashi was very confused. 'Hey, it's Liana, if you have free time, I'd really appreciate it if we could meet' was the message she received yesterday, and that's how she found herself in a café, sitting in front of the girl Art has been trying to fuck without success for God knows how long. Tashi couldn't help but wonder what Art's tennis would look like if he succeeded.

"All good. I'm early." Liana smiled. "Do you want to order something to eat?" she asked, and Tashi waved at the waiter, asking for coffee. Her energy was businesslike. Always in a hurry. Always busy. It didn't matter that she came from the rain. It didn't matter if she was cold or hot. She had no time to waste. "What's up, Liana?" Tashi asked after a few more minutes of awkward silence. "Is this about Art?" she added. "No... Art's not involved." she answered too quickly. Why did she answer so quickly? "So how can I help you?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee that had just arrived.

"I don't have many friends here." Liana took a deep breath. She knew how it sounded. Desperate and pathetic. But she had no choice. She really didn't know who to talk to. "So... you want me to?" Tashi looked horrified for a moment. Not understanding what situation she had gotten into. "God, no." Liana's eyes widened. "Can you stop with the leg? It's driving me crazy." Tashi said. All the chaotic energy Liana was emitting didn't suit her. It almost threw her off balance.

"I'm pregnant." Liana said quietly right after she took a sip of her tea. She examined Tashi, who looked back at her. "Patrick?" Tashi asked, and Liana looked at her horrified. "Of course it's Patrick's. Whose else?!" she defended herself. "So, congratulations, I guess?" Tashi still didn't understand why she was there. Why her time was being wasted with news about her ex from years ago. If it's not Art's child, if it doesn't become Tashi's problem, why bother filling her brain with this unnecessary information.

"No. I don't want this." Liana said, and Tashi couldn't hide her surprise. "I'm Sorry, what?" she couldn't stop herself. "It was a mistake. I'm on the pill, and I really don't know how it happened. I need to stop this..." Liana mumbled. It wasn't coherent, but Tashi understood every word. "You've been together for years, Liana, I don't understand..." Tashi tried to be more sensitive. "It's just not the right time. We need more stability, and bringing a child into something like this is just not fair." she said, looking at her for a change.

"I would go alone, but I need someone to be listed as an escort," she averted her gaze as she said it. Ashamed of what she was asking from the girl in front of her, a complete stranger in her life, yet the only one she could think of. "Patrick?" Tashi asked quietly. "He doesn't know." Liana's eyes filled with tears. "Please-" she had been thinking about this monologue from the moment she found out, three days ago. "Okay" there was no need. Tashi answered immediately. "Okay, I'll go with you." she smiled the most genuine smile she had to offer. "Thank you." they both took a sip of their drinks. The rain outside intensified.

When Liana entered the house, Patrick was in the kitchen, and she quietly leaned on the doorframe, watching him while he wasn't looking. Thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow. Knowing it's for their own good. He wouldn't understand if she told him. He wouldn't understand, and he would want to keep it, and neither of them could raise a child right now. She knows that. She knows he will hate her no matter what she decides tomorrow. If he finds out, he will feel trapped. He will feel like she has ruined his life. Again. Little by little. Each time draining him of the last drop of joy left in him. The last drop of youth.

"Are you just staring now? Not saying hello?" he asked, amused. He had felt her gaze on him for a few minutes. "Hey," she approached him and hugged him from behind. Leaning on his shoulder and closing her eyes. "Hey, Lilo," he was confused. Not understanding the sudden closeness. The last few days had been strange, to say the least. Liana and Patrick hadn't fought even once. She hadn't been feeling well, and he mostly tried not to bother her with his presence. He was afraid of making her feel even worse than she already did, and the more he distanced himself, the closer she got. The more space he gave her, the more she sought touch.

"What are you making?" she asked quietly, not moving an inch, still with her eyes closed. "I'm pretty useless, but I called your mom, and she gave me a recipe for the soup you like," he said quietly. "You called my mom?" she asked in a half-broken voice. "You haven't been well for a few days, Lilo. I wanted to make something that would make you feel good," their gazes met.

Liana started crying, and Patrick panicked. These weren't just tears welling up in her eyes but real crying with her hands on her face. "Hey, hey, Liana. What's going on?" he gently took her hands off her face, revealing how red she had become in those seconds, how sad she was. His hug was comforting. More comforting than anything she had felt recently. "I'm such a bitch. Really," she mumbled. "Lilo, you're the kindest person I know," he chuckled above her head, tracing small shapes on her shoulder while gently rocking her, trying to soothe her in any way he could.

"I really love you. You know that, right?" she pulled away from him for a second and studied him. "Of course, I know," he replied, "I don't understand what's going on, Lil. I need you to talk to me." He was half-lost, not understanding what he did or what she did that led to this situation. "I don't say it enough, but I really love you, Patrick. More than I love most people in the world," she said again, unable to stop the tears. "I know. I really know," he replied, hugging her once more, not letting her slip away from him. "You're okay. Whatever it is, we're okay," he said, and she nodded into him.

Liana also thinks that most of the time, they are okay.

The months that passed were more of the same. Liana worked on Art's house, meeting with him once or twice a week to show him the project's progress. Every time he tried to have a conversation beyond professional matters, Liana cut him off. She owed that to Patrick. She owed it to herself and Patrick to be okay. She couldn't let herself betray him emotionally with someone who, the moment he had a hold on her emotions, her entire system would recalibrate around him again.

The calm dynamic between Liana and Patrick lasted exactly two weeks. Liana was quite sure they didn’t know how to manage without fighting to the point where she wanted to smash a plate against the wall. Sometimes they went to bed without exchanging a single word, and those were the days it was hardest for her to be near him. Those were the days she also canceled meetings with Art because Patrick made her so angry she became indifferent. And indifference leads to mistakes. She knew that. She had seen it up close.

Now, with both Art and Patrick participating in the tournament in Atlanta, Liana found herself ordering coffee and soda at the hotel bar while opening her laptop, hoping to tie up some loose ends before sitting down with Art for a few minutes tomorrow. "Hey, Liana," she heard Tashi’s voice from behind. They hadn’t been in touch since that time, when Tashi went with her. But Liana had a soft spot for the woman in front of her. She used to be so afraid of her once, trembling when exchanging more than a word with her. Today she thought she and Tashi saw each other with flaws and strengths. Sometimes Liana didn’t know what her strengths were, but she always knew Tashi’s.

"Hey," she smiled at her. "Mind if I sit for a bit while I wait for my order for Art and me?" she asked. "Is he sending you to fetch orders now?" Liana raised an eyebrow. It was uncharacteristic. "Actually, no, I saw you from afar and didn’t want his mind to be distracted." Tashi said, and Liana rolled her eyes, wanting to say something. "There’s no way I could distract him right now. Not before I finish working, nothing to talk to him about" she said, and Tashi rolled her eyes and chuckled. Liana wasn’t entirely sure if something was happening between Tashi and Art. It wasn’t her place to ask him, she wasn’t in contact with Tashi, and her parents hadn’t told her anything special as gossip as they usually did about his life. Maybe it was just friendly, and she was purely his coach, but Liana didn’t want to be in the middle of it. She wasn’t going to disrupt Art’s happiness. She was with Patrick. Most of the time, she was happy with Patrick.

"Has he ever shown you his necklace?" Tashi asked. "Excuse me?" Liana was confused. "Art, has he ever shown you his necklace?" she asked again, slower, like speaking to a child. "No, I never asked, and it’s always under his shirt," Liana shrugged as Tashi took her order. "He’s such a pussy," she shook her head from side to side, chuckling. "So dominant on the court and yet, such a coward. Unbelievable. Good to see you, send my regards to Patrick," she smiled and walked toward the exit, not giving Liana a chance to respond.

Art was terrified. He was bored, so he went down to the lobby half an hour before the time he had arranged with Liana. He was so happy he could see her in person and knowing she was also in Atlanta, that he didn’t care the only reason they were meeting was to talk about the house. But now he felt the air leave his lungs. He saw Tashi and Patrick. Holding hands. Like that. In the fucking lobby. And while Tashi didn’t owe anyone anything, Patrick owed Liana. And Art was supposed to be happy because he understood what was happening. It was Patrick. No matter how much time passed, he knew Patrick.

When he returned his gaze to where they had been sitting, after giving someone an autograph, they were gone. His heart was beating faster than usual. He felt like crying. He was supposed to be happy, but all he could think about was Liana’s face and that he was about to be someone who told her something that would make her cry. Again. He swore to himself he'd never make her cry again, but he was about to. And he hated it.

"Donaldson," she smiled at him, causing him to jump in his chair. "How did you get so startled, you were practically looking at me," she rolled her eyes, and he smiled at her. "What’s wrong?" she asked. His smile was fake. Liana hated that she could still tell if his smile was fake. "Nothing, just thoughts about the tournament." he said. "You crushed your competitor today, you’ll be fine." she rolled her eyes. "Mind if I order some wine? It’ll help me sleep." she added. He didn’t know she liked to drink wine. "Of course. I would order some too, but, you know." he replied, somewhat pleased she was allowing herself to relax a bit around him. It took her only a year.

"So, I’ll show you a few things and then let you go." she said, sipping her wine, and he nodded. "Hit me." "Question, while the computer loads." she said, and he looked at her. Liana hated how his green hoodie made the bright blue of his eyes stand out. She had never seen so many shades of blue as when she looked closely at Art Donaldson’s eyes.

"Talk to me." he leaned on his elbow, not taking his eyes off her. A little reveling in the moment. A little afraid to ruin it. A little wanting to ruin it. Because the voice in his head told him he had to tell her. Liana had to know. She deserved to know. Art deserved a chance. He would never do this to her.

"What’s the story with your necklace?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow, quickly running a hand over the back of his neck. "There’s no story." he answered too quickly. He wanted to punch himself for it. "Arthur. Come on, what’s the deal, you didn’t wear a necklace when we were kids. Is it a gift from someone?" she asked. "Are you keeping track of my jewelry, Liana? Be careful, I might think you care about me more than you let on." he knew it would make her change the subject. He wouldn’t tell, but the blush on her cheeks and the big sip she took from her wine only made the conversation better.

"This is the final plan. They started the interior construction two days ago." she showed him a diagram on the computer, moving a bit closer to him. Close enough for her scent to hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to dive into that closeness. To reach out. To tell her and immediately promise everything would be okay. That he would be there to pick up the pieces. He knew he could.

"I saw Patrick and Tashi earlier." he said quietly, almost in a whisper. Not taking his eyes off her. "Oh, I didn’t know they were in touch..." Liana said, not moving her eyes from the computer. "Liana," he sighed. He hoped she would understand from the previous sentence. That he wouldn’t have to say it. "What?" she looked at him and chuckled, but her smile quickly faded when she saw his expression, "Just say what you have to say, Donaldson." she said with an uncharacteristic coldness.

She knew Art too well. Every time she tried to deny it, she could precisely recognize a look he gave or a joke that no one around understood. She knew how to tell by his walking pace to a construction site if he had a good practice or if he was tired. She knew who he was at his core. And more than anything, she knew how he looked when he was about to break her heart.

"They were holding hands and then disappeared from my sight," he sighed, breathing heavily. He said it in a whisper, almost not wanting to say what had been weighing on him. "Oh." she drank all that was left of her wine in one gulp and signaled the waiter she wanted another glass, returning her gaze to the computer. "I need to finish a few things, and I believe we can wrap everything up in two months. After that, you’ll need to work with an interior designer-" "Liana." Art interrupted her and placed his hand on hers, giving it a slight squeeze. This made her move her hand to her leg.

Without realizing it, tears welled up in her eyes, and the waiter who brought her wine hurried away from the table as fast as he arrived. "Talk to me, please." he was desperate to know what was going through her mind. "It’s okay, it’s whatever," she shrugged and looked at him indifferently, letting one of her tears fall.

"Liana." he sighed. "How is it okay? He’s cheating on you." Art wanted to raise his voice. He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at Patrick. He was mad at the circumstances. He was mad at himself. "I know what holding hands and disappearing with Tashi Duncan means for someone like Patrick, Art. Contrary to what you think, I’m not stupid." her words were almost venomous, but he knew she wasn’t lashing out at him. He knew he was the closest person right now. He was ready to take it.

"What do you think is happening here?" she asked, taking another big sip of wine. "That I’ll hear about Tashi and Patrick and go up to your room so you can fuck me until I forget all my problems?" she asked, and he almost choked on his own spit. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt. That sentence showed how long she’d been in a relationship with Patrick. He spoke through her.

"No, Liana." he sighed again. Running his hand over the back of his neck once more but this time leaving it there a little longer. "I’m content in my relationship. Shit happens." she finished the second glass in one go and closed the laptop, ready to leave. "Shit happens? How many times has it already happened, Liana?" he couldn’t believe the level of indifference. He wanted to shake her so hard that her brain would reset and go back to the beginning. To reboot her self-respect that had clearly been trampled on more than once.

"Bye Art, good luck tomorrow." she muttered and turned. This time his grip on her hand was firm above the table. She wouldn’t be able to move him. Not now. "You’re making a scene." she whispered. He couldn’t help but think about the power dynamics between them now that she was standing and he was sitting, but he was holding her. She couldn’t move as long as he was holding her. And if it were up to him, he would hold her forever.

"Look. Here." he did the only thing he could think of and pulled the pendant of the necklace over his shirt. Seeing her breath catch for a moment. "Is that...?" She couldn't find the words and automatically moved her free hand over the metal. "Yes." He whispered. His grip loosened, and he let his fingers intertwine with hers over the table without her pulling away. "Why?" She murmured, not stopping her hand from moving over the pendant, her dorm key. The key he refused to return to her time and again. Hanging around his neck. "You know why." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why?" She asked again. Not letting go. She had to hold on to something, and he knew that if he wanted to give her a moment of peace, even if not for himself—because for himself, he would have chosen another way to tell her, to show her—that all these years, she had been his good luck charm, even from afar. Right now, she was the only one who mattered. Only succeeding in changing the way she looked at herself and what she thought she deserved. "Because I’m yours. I’ve always been only yours."

Oh my god!!! I hope it wasn't too long. I feel like so much has happened in this part, but we are finally in Atlanta. What are you thinking guys? We've got a bit more Tashi on this one. I love hearing from you, so talk to me. Thanks for still reading and commenting. It means the actual world.

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #the time of our lives #tashi duncan #challengers fic

157 notes · View notes

admirationandromantics · 2 months ago

Text

Going overboard, Prologue

Okay, so 10 hours early, but I've gotten several requests about the start of the story, so here it is! This has been a big project (still not done with the last 3 chapters...), but so worth it. Remining the readers that this story is 18+ cause of alcohol, smut, drugs (?), throwing up (cause of alcohol, not ed) and other darker themes. Remember that Josh is severly mentally ill, so if you struggle with themes like that, I don't recommend this story.

Some chapters will not feature interactions with him, and some will be longer or shorter, but I'll try to make daily updates, so no worries! This blog is purely for my creative expression, and I don't really want tips or tricks about how to do stuff better, thank you. This whole thing is a way for me to relieve stress and just write without thought. Hope you enjoy, and if you do, please consider following and liking <3

The booze was getting empty, and the night darker. The snowstorm outside had worsened, making the inside of the cabin feel like the perfect cozy place. Emily and Jess had been talking all night about some kind of prank. I don’t know what it was about, and I didn’t want to know. Knowing the lengths they’d go, I kept my distance. During the evening they’d been regularly going away together, whether it was in the bathroom or in the kitchen. They were alone, talking, occasionally giving loud snickers. If Emily wasn’t hopelessly in love with Mike, I would’ve thought she had a thing for Jess.

Josh is slurring around, mixing up words and almost falling over. He’s basically being carried by Matt from place to place when he wants to go somewhere. Hannah is mixing drinks, leaving them on the counter for everyone. I guess it’s tiring being hosts. Well, not for Josh, but the others. I’m sitting on the sofa with Sam, Ashley and Chris. Ashley seems fine, as she doesn’t get very verbal while drunk, while Sam’s not drinking. She’s sketching on her notepad while talking, and I occasionally look over her shoulder to see the products. They’re gorgeous, every line perfectly in place. I’m mesmerised by her talent, her ability to create something so lifelike. She’s almost like Victor Frankenstein, just a little safer with her creations. She’s drawing Chris now, making sure to add that little glisten on his glasses. I look over at him, then the drawing, then him again. It looks so real.

“I’m in awe” I comment, looking up at her. She gets a slight blush on her cheeks, clearly not used to such positive feedback.

“Why thank you” she smiles back at me.

“Ohhh let me see, let me see!” Ashley shouts, reaching out both of her hands for the pad. Sam complies, putting down the pencil and giving it to her. Ashley blushes as she looks at the drawing, biting her lips in an almost invisible manner.

“Oh look-” she points at the drawing, holding the pat in front of Chris.

“She even got some of your freckles” she smiles, still blushing as she looks down on him. Chris doesn’t open his eyes. His head’s resting on her shoulder, and when she nudges him, he gives a slight “mmm” in reply. She gives back the drawing pad to Sam, leaning back so Chris’ head falls in her lap. Luckily she manages to catch his head with her hands, slowly putting him down. He nuzzles into her, and she runs her finger though his hair while breathing out. She’s probably scared he’s going to wake up.

I turn, giving Sam a look before we both turn to her. The motions make her look up at us, confused.

“Sooooo” Sam begins.

“When are you going to ask him out?” I finish, smirking. I can’t help it. It takes a couple of seconds before Ashley realises what we asked of her, and when she does, her eyes widen and both hands immediately go to cover Chris’ ears. Sam grabs my thigh, squeezing a bit to release the energy so she doesn’t laugh.

“Shhhh he might hear you!” she whisper-shouts, looking at us.

“Oh don’t worry, he’s out cold” Sam teases, grabbing a shot glass and filling it to the brim with tequila.

“Well, the brain can still recognise things while sleeping”

“Nerd”

“They’re a perfect match”

“Stop it!”

We both laugh, while Ashley’s still pouting.

“Fine, sorry” Sam continues, giving me the shot glass. I look at her, she’s got a funny look on her face.

“What is this for?” I ask, taking hold of it and bringing it to my mouth.

“You seem more present than the rest.” She smiles, nodding to the glass. I drink up, give a grimage and start looking for the lime.

“There’s no more”, Ashley laughs, and Sam joins her.

“Asshole”. I move to the kitchen, trying to find some kind of drink to make the shot not come up again. Beth joins me.

“You look awful”

“Thank you Beth”. She gives me a beer, and I drink it as fast as I can, killing the gross aftertaste. As I look over at her, she gives me a concerning look. I finish up, another bad taste covers my insides, and I run to the sink, feeling like throwing up.

“Fuck fuck fuck”

“Shit sorry, I didn’t think you would drink that so fast!” Beth exclaims, running to the refrigerator and grabbing some orange juice. As she hands me it, I drink like a feral animal once again, determined to not let this ruin my night. Beth stands behind me, rubbing my back and holding my hair. Just in case. Nothing comes up, and after about three minutes I stand up, giving her a bitch look.

“Karma’s coming for you Beth, that’s not okay.” She’s still smiling softly at me, whispering for me to follow her. I take her hand, and she leads me to the bathroom. We both sit down on the floor, and I begin to feel my whole body pulsing. Every breath is grand, going to the edge of my fingers. Fuck, I’m going to be sick tomorrow.

“I wanted to tell you something” she starts, not looking at me.

“What”

“The others were trying to get you blasted tonight”

“You think I’m naive, of course I know that. Sam never offers alcohol to anyone, and you know how I get”

“Well, yeah. I was kind of in on it”

“I know”, I responded, laughing a little. She looks over at me.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not, just fun, I wanted to let a bit loose on this trip”

“You know we have an agenda?” No I didn’t. I look up at her, her face slowly moving to the side, facing me.

“And what is it?” She looks down in shame, and I get a weird feeling in my stomach. If this has something to do with Jess and Emily, I’m leaving on the spot.

“Well, notice how Josh is also…”

“A little out of it?”

“Yeah, that”. Something clicks, a switch, a lightbulb, something, and I rapidly stand up.

“Wait!” I exclaim, suddenly realising. My body is wobbling, and I grab hold of the wall so I don’t fall. Beth follows quickly, hands in the air around me in case I fall.

“You’re trying to get me with your brother?!”

“You like him don’t you?”

“Well Yeah"

“And you’re both drunk”

“So?”

“Drinks of bravery?”

“No”

“Yes”

“Absolutely not”, and I turn to leave. I go out in the hall, but she runs past me and corners me.

“Okay, listen. Maybe this wasn’t the best approach, but don’t let the rest of the night go to waste, we’re having fun. No pressure on that area, okay? You’re just having fun tonight” she explains, a bit panicked.

I can’t be mad at her, but I roll my eyes and give her a nudge, not feeling if I hit her or not. I grab her hand, and we both go to join the others. I know myself, and no matter how drunk I get, making a move on Josh is NOT something I will do. Ever.

As we’re walking down the stairs, the people have gathered in the living room. Matt is on his way to the bathroom, walking past us and smiling. Such a sweet guy. We join the others, sitting down with Josh to my left and Emily on my right. Josh leans over.

“Hey, want to get a smoke” he whispers, probably so Sam doesn’t hear. I look out the window, getting shivers just from seeing the snow.

“The weather”

“We can do it through a window.” I look at the others, who are clearly busy. Nobody’s watching, and we could probably sneak out.

“My room” he whispers, before drunkenly getting up, moving like a penguin up the stairs. He walks past Matt, who’s going down.

“Need help Josh?”

“Do I look like I need help?”

“Yes”

“No I don’t”

Everyone laughs as Josh continues up the stairs. Hannah looks worried, but ultimately starts sipping her drink again. I don’t know how much time has passed before I decide to go. Emily, Jess and Mike went to the kitchen again, but not before drawing a bunch of stuff on Chris’ face. Nobody notices me slipping away, up the stairs and out of reach.

I walk through the hall. Josh’s room is at the very end. The hall is spinning, doors getting mixed up. I open one of them, walking into a dark room. Makeup is spread throughout every counter, clothes everywhere. This is not Josh’s room. I drunkenly make my way out to the hallway again, noticing a door beside which is slightly ajar.

As I arrive in Josh's room, his window is open, cold air flying through the room, giving me goosebumps. He turns around when he hears the door close, looking me up and down and smiling. He’s already got a cigarette in his mouth. I smile back, walking towards him. As I reach for the wardrobe to hold for balance, my hand slips. He’s quick to grab my arm, making a grunting sound when pulling me up. He’s got fast reflexes for someone who’s drunk so much. As I get my balance back, he grabs a pack from his pocket, opening it and letting me pull a cigarette out.

“Got a lighter?” I ask. He smiles, taking the cylinder off my hand and holding it up to my lips. His eyebrows rise, and I take it as a sign to part my lips, leading to him placing cigarette in my mouth. His hand grabs hold of my chin, pulling me closer. He leans over, letting his burning end touch the end of mine.

“Inhale” he whispers between teeth. I comply, lighting my own through his. I stare up at him, locking eyes. He doesn’t move away. Instead, his thumb shifts from my chin to my lips, caressing lightly. I’m drunk, he’s drunk, we don’t know what we’re doing. I pull away, away from his face and hand.

“So we didn’t need a lighter” I say, leaning over to the window and blowing the smoke outside. He stands beside me, leaning over so we’re in the same position, arms brushing against each other.

“You’re cold”, he tells me, looking up worried. His hand moves to my arm, grabbing. He’s warm, too warm. I sigh when he touches me, involuntary. Fuck. I blush, hoping he thinks my redness is due to the cold.

“I don’t feel it”, I respond. A lie, but it’s okay. I’ll survive.

“Damn, drank that much?” he says, walking over to the closet.

“Not my fault”

“Really”, he sounds surprised. Walking back to me, a flannel shirt in hand.

“The others are plotting” I state, as I put my hands out, letting him put it on me. When he finishes, he doesn’t button it, but leaves it open.

“Plotting what?”

“Trying to get us together”

“Really? My sisters’ are in it too?”

“At least one of them”

“Shameless people. Trying to get her brother and best friend together”

“Yeah I know” I laugh, turning away and looking out the window once again. I take a few more drags of the cigarette, using too long, making it almost go out. He starts a new conversation.

“You know, I thought about asking you out once”. I look surprised at him, he has his signature smirk plastered on. It’s my turn to be curious.

“And?” He turns to me, looking down, I don’t know if he’s looking down my shirt or on my waist.

“Well, friend group shit. Didn’t want to fuck it up”. My heart falls a bit, a heavy feeling in my chest.

“Smart choice” I manage to answer.

“I guess”. He sounds oddly disappointed, and I force myself to be more forward.

“Especially since I would’ve said yes”

“What?” he asks, taking my cigarette and throwing it out the window.

“Hey!”

“It was basically out anyway. But are you for real?” he continues, brows furrowed, and hands grabbing my shirt on each side of my waist. My face gets hot, arms wanting to feel him.

“Yeah-”. Before I’m able to fulfil my answer, he drags me into him, chest to chest, meeting my lips in a sloppy kiss. Shocked, I pull away, walking a few steps back. I still hold onto the counter for balance, looking at him. He’s breathing heavily, a bit surprised by my response, and a little hurt.

“Sorry, I got the signs wrong” he says, looking down. I take a breath, calming myself.

“Is this a prank?”

“What”

“Is this a prank?” I say a bit louder, nearly shouting. Probably I am, I just don’t realize it.

“Why would you think that?” he asks, a bit angry.

“Because Jess and Emily were talking about some type of prank and people were getting me drunk and-” I ramble, breathing starting to get unsteady. I’m unsure about how to continue. I’m getting dizzy, needing to lay down. Josh notices. As my vision goes blurry, arms take hold of me, quickly moving me to the bed. My head is pounding, but the room doesn’t spin as much anymore. An arm is holding my head up a bit, and I feel a cold glass touch my lips. Instinctively I open my mouth, drinking the whole glass of water. He lays down beside me, and I can feel myself drifting off.

When I wake up, it’s still dark outside. Josh is sleeping, so I make my way to the bathroom. The nausea is catching up, and I make myself vomit. Several times. Luckily, this means I’ll probably be spared in the morning. My head feels lighter, in a good way. When I’m done, I drink some more water and brush my teeth. I feel refreshed, and a little happy that was it. I don’t need to be stressed about being sick.

As I walk out in the hallway again, I hear voices downstairs. They’re still up. I look at the clock, and notice I was only out for about half an hour. I decide not to join them. I’ve gotten enough tonight. As I make my way in the hallway, I notice Josh’s door which I didn’t close behind me. I walk over, looking inside. Josh is up, sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands. I walk inside, closing the door behind me. He doesn’t turn.

“Hey” I say, trying to put on a light tone.

“Hey”. His voice is emotionless, nothing to analyse, nothing to take from it. I walk over, sitting down in front of him on my knees. He still doesn’t look at me, only right down between his legs.

“Can we talk?” I ask. He finally lifts his face, looking into my eyes. Before I can begin, he starts.

“Do you really think I would do something like that?”

“What?”

“Toying with your feelings. Being part of Jess’ and Emily’s schemes?” Now it’s my turn to look down, shame filling my chest.

“I was so drunk Josh, still am, but I panicked, and spiralled…” I feel a tear run down the corner of my eye. I was not planning on crying, but this night had been more eventful and emotional than most. He doesn’t hesitate to dry them, catching each one with his thumbs.

“I know, now I’m the one spiralling, sorry” he whispers. I lean forward, hugging him around his waist. He hugs me back.

“I didn’t mean to pull away”, I explain, not being brave enough to look him in the eyes while confessing. He pulls me away, looking at me. I can’t decipher his face, something hopeful maybe, but not too much. It’s now or never, I must tell him. Before he can ask, I get up, lean forward, and kiss him. He doesn’t back away, instead he grabs my thighs, leading me on top of him, still on the edge of the bed. The kiss is sloppy, as we’re still drunk and a bit dizzy. His hands wander to my waist, grabbing hold of the top of my bottoms. I bite his bottom lip, making him grunt in response.

“Fuck” he mutters. Grabbing harder, making me gasp. He uses the opportunity to put his tongue in my mouth. I let him. He moves his hands, signalling me to grind on him, and I do. I want him. Bad. My body warms up, the window’s still open, but I can’t feel the cold. As I move on him, he pulls off his own flannel, before dragging my shirt off. I do the same to him. Feeling him up from the lower part of his muscular stomach to his shoulders. My breathing quickens, feeling every curve of his body with my fingertips, trying to memorise it all. He's warm, tense but calm, and I melt into his touch. I lean forward to capture his lips again, and he meets me halfway. I can feel myself getting wetter by the minute, and before I know it, he turns us around, laying my back on the bed, hovering over me. He leans down again, kissing my collar and neck. I can’t help the whines that come out of me. I feel needy, hot. I need him. He stops by my breasts, looking up.

“Do you want this?” he asks.

“Yes Josh, please. I want you”

He smiles in response, and I can’t help but mirror it.

***

Loud bangs are heard on the door. I wake up with a headache, but luckily no nausea. I poke Josh, making him wake up abruptly, grabbing his head, a painful look on his face. His headache seems worse than mine.

“Someone’s in the hallway” I say, leaning down and kissing his head.

“Fuck” he whispers. “Let’s get this over with”

“What is it?” he shouts through the door.

“Josh, we need you!” I hear Mike shout. “Your sisters are missing!”

122 notes · View notes

annymation · 11 months ago

Text

The Kingdom of Wishes- A “Wish” Rewrite

Chapter 17- To Give You Even More Than... This.

Chapter 16

"... I gotta go now" Aster's voice cracks, though his smile remains, as his eyes try to hold back some heavy tears.

"... Now?" Asha's voice vacillated.

She watched as Aster's dust floated up to the sky, slowly making them disappear, as if bit by bit the star is returning to the sky... Asha understands what this means, but she doesn't understand why. Why now? After everything, why can't they have one moment of peace?

"You can't leave now" She pleaded "W-we just WON! We got to celebrate, we can finally relax and..." Asha's nervous smile melted into a frown, it takes one look for her to see how he's just as heartbroken as she is. "... You don't have a choice, do you? Now that my wish is granted..."

Aster just nods slowly.

"... Hey! But that's okay!" Asha's smile returns, her eyes lit up with an idea "I can just wish upon you again! Then you'll come back-"

"I won't be allowed to come back." Aster blurts out the bad news as fast as he could, like ripping off a bandaid, thinking maybe if he says quickly it will hurt less... That didn't work.

Asha's hopeful smile disappears "Wh- What!? Why not?"

"I broke too many rules..." Aster murmured, watching himself slowly disappear "I let myself be seen by other people, I helped you WAY more than any star is supposed to... I fell in love." a bittersweet smile grows on his now almost transparent face "Heh heh pretty sure that last one wasn't a rule before, but now it sure is." He joked playfully, as a single tear ran down his cheek.

Asha didn't think that was funny at all though, she felt anger bubbling up inside her "You helped me grant my wish, and now you get punished for it? How's that even fair?!" She vociferated in frustration.

She's not angry at Aster, but rather at the world itself for keeping them apart.

A few people from the crowd finally notice what's going on with Aster, including Asha's friends. The 7 teens approach the pair. They already knew this was coming since Aster told them back in the forest, but they too weren't ready to see him go.

"It's not..." Aster lamented, but even then, he still tries to comfort her, with that same everlasting gleam of optimism in his smile "But hey, at least we got to enjoy our time together the best we could, right?" The star took a few steps forward, so he could be closer to her, or at least what was still left of him.

They both know that no time in the world would ever be enough for them.

"I... I wanted this to last forever..." Her big brown eyes already had tears threatening to fall "There's so much I wanted to show you, so much I wanted to tell you..."

Aster is just sketch lines now. He tries to dry her tears with one hand, but now he's translucent, he can't physically interact with anything. Aster frowns as her tears go right through him, he cannot comfort her anymore. The star's body is more in the sky than on land now, so he gives her his last words before leaving completely

"Up there, I'll still see you, and hear you... It won't be the same, but I'll always be there for you-"

"Even if I can't see you." Asha finished his sentence, that notion does comfort her.

"Heh... That's right-"

Asha leans forward to kiss him.

Aster gasps, but before he can react...

He's gone. His sketch lines erased, as he returns to the sky against his will.

... Asha's wide eyes stare up to the sky.

With her head looking upward, those heavy tears begin to flow down freely. A pained sob that was stuck in her throat finally comes out.

Asha feel's Dahlia's soft and warm hand on shoulder, and Asha immediately turns around to give her a hug, the other teens join in to comfort her.

"... How can we help?" Dahlia asked sympathetically, determined to comfort her friend in any way she could.

Asha lets go of the hug with her head low, glancing at the wand in her hand, it still has Aster's magic, and now, she can use it to draw anything out of thin air. She takes a few deep breaths and dries her tears. Looking around, she sees so many people staring at her, they stopped celebrating just to know how she feels, all concerned and sad for her.

She turns her attention to the buildings around them, some are entangled in giant thorny vines that the king and queen created to destroy the kingdom. The kingdom's gorgeous architecture is now practically ruins. Asha thinks of all the families that now have no homes to rest in after all this... And she concludes this is no time to cry, for her wish is not granted yet.

"Well... We can start by getting hid of those vines," Asha began, surprising her friends with her half smile "Only then we can start rebuilding."

The 7 teens are taken aback by how quick she dried her tears... But that's just who Asha is, ready to step forward to help those around, and they all happily follow suit.

"I can get some gardening tools to help with that hihihi" Bazeema is the first one to chime in, which is quite rare, but it seems she just can't contain her own excitement

"Yeah!" Asha agreed, now with a beaming smile despite her teary eyes "And I can use my wand to draw temporary houses for everyone."

"Woah woah woah EVERYONE?" Gabo cut in, motioning with his arms that she should calm down, though his smile is encouraging "Asha, you might get a broken wrist from drawing so much, chill." He warns cheekily but with a genuine worry she might overwork herself.

"You don't have to do so much" Simon reassured, his tone a lot more cheerful than ever before, and the bags under his eyes are gone "I mean, you already did A LOT for us heh heh"

"He's correct" Comes in a voice from the crowd.

Asha turns to see who it is, and it's the same street performing jester that sang to her (chapter 2). The jester gives her a formal bow, while holding something she feared she'd never see again

"And I believe you've dropped this, young lady." He says as he hands to her-

"My Saba's mandolin!" Asha exclaimed in relief.

Asha gently holds it. Last time she saw the instrument was when she threw it on Magnifico's head to save Aster, from that moment on, the girl worried he might have destroyed it, but thankfully it was in one piece... Well, sort of, she quickly notices parts of the mandolin have bandages to mend it, and some of the strings are new.

"You fixed it... Thank you." Asha gives the jester a grateful smile.

"Consider it an apology for disrespecting your point of view that day..." The man says feeling quite ashamed, but then he bows his head respectfully "And thank YOU for everything, miss."

The people from the crowd nod in agreement. Some gratefully curtsey and bow their heads slightly to her, almost as if she was a princess.

Asha gives them a gentle curtsy in response.

"Sooo how about some music to lighten the mood while we fix this whole mess?" Hal asked her, encouraging Asha to play the mandolin.

Asha was about to, but she remembers Aster's magic that made her able to play at all would only last a day

"Oh... I don't actually know how to play it anymore" Asha laments, her smile wavers when she reminisces of the time her and Aster played together.

Dario nudges her so she looks at him signing "That's alright" The blonde has a huge smile as he reassures her "You'll learn in time, just gotta practice it."

Safi adds on, or at least tries to "Just like we all- A- we AAAA- AAAAACH-"

Dahlia places a finger under his nose to stop him from sneezing, then finishes what he was about to say, probably.

"Just like we're all going to learn how to grant our own wishes." Dahlia says with a smile, giving Asha a wink.

Asha's smile is as bright as the sun rising, as she holds the mandolin ready to play it, regardless if she knows how to or not. We turn our attention closer to the cords as she begins to play them, which transitions to a song sequence with no lyrics.

In this sequence, we see the people of Rosas all work together to rebuild their kingdom. They cut down the rose vines, make bricks for reconstruction, carry the equipment and so on. Basically we get a sequence like the "All of You" song from Encanto, but without lyrics because we already had TWO LYRIC FILLED SONGS one after the other a few minutes ago and I think we had enough. Also I don't have the will power to write lyrics for this.

Anyway, Asha uses her wand to help everyone, drawing things such as a dragon to get all the giant vines out of the kingdom. She also draws houses for people to live in temporarily. Although the people are very grateful, they reassure her they can do a lot even without her help, which makes her really happy, both because it shows how the people are learning to not rely on someone else's magic to make their wishes come true, and also, not everything should fall on her shoulders, she has done more than enough.

We see the people painting over the illustrations of Magnifico and Amable that were everywhere. On top of it, they paint colorful and creative works of art that reflect who they are. The kingdom that was once all painted in tones of white and blues, so shallow and lifeless, now is filled with color, bursting with personality and life all around.

They destroy all the statues of king Magnifico and queen Amable, well, at least all the ones that were made by hand. They use the remaining pieces to make new building material.

Days and nights go by, imagine like a timelapse shot, and the kingdom is rapidly rebuilt to it's former glory, perhaps even better than before.

The song sequence ends with us seeing everyone celebrating that their home is restored, Asha and her friends front and center as they cheer together.

We fade into a scene of the kingdom now at night time.

The stars are shinning brightly and there's no clouds in the sky. Everyone in Rosas seems to be asleep... Except for one person.

Asha walks with Valentino through the kingdom's alleys. It's worth noting the baby goat has bigger horns now.

As she wanders, Asha admires the new paintings on the walls of the buildings, lighted by the gentle glow of the full moon.

She's not awake just for sight seeing though, she actually has two very important tasks. The young girl and and her goat make their way to... The statue of King Magnifico and Queen Amable. The only statues of them left in the whole kingdom.

The statue is on display, yes, but not to be admired or to show respect, but rather as a reminder of what they did, and so the fallen king and queen can see how the kingdom is prospering, now that they're gone.

But Asha is not going there for them neither, she's going to the lynx laying down on the statue's feet.

"...Hi Bravo, it's me again." She chimes in, getting the attention of the big grumpy feline, she has two bowls on her hands "I got more food and water for you." she says, as she cautiously places them next to him.

The lynx growled and hissed at her angrily, and yet he didn't get up, just kept staring at her with eyes full of resentment. She understands the message and backs away slowly. Valentino is surprisingly calm, as he knows the wild cat won't attack them, he hasn't done so in the past few days they've done this.

"... I'm going to the forest" Asha sighs, pointing to where they're going "Would you like to come with us this time?" She asks the feline, hoping today will be a different answer... But all he does is lower his head, curling up closer to the statues. Asha looks down disappointingly, but also understanding "I get it. You're not ready yet." She goes on her way, giving him a small wave goodbye "You can take all the time you need, okay? I'll come back tomorrow with more food... Good night."

As she and Valentino walk away, the feline's green eyes follow them. His grumpy face morphed into a sad one, and he turns to the bowls of food and water in front of him. The big wild cat seemed conflicted, as he gazed upon the water inside the bowl, he could see himself and also his petrified owners behind him... Bravo then rubs on the queen's dress and the king's legs one final time, as if to say goodbye, before he begins to walk away from them, following Asha to the woods where he belongs.

The statues are now left all alone.

So now... We cut to Asha on the tree. That same tree she climbed to make her wish.

She lays down on the large branch, holding her sketchbook full of notes. Valentino sleeps soundly on her lap. She gazed upon the stars, or rather, one specific star, as she talks about all that has been going on lately, and from the looks of it, she has already been talking for a while.

"- It's better than I could've ever dreamed of! I thought everyone was happy before, but- now they truly FEEL happy! Like, not just smiling ya know?" She rambled to Aster, her eyes sparkling with excitement "And- OH OH yeah! Dahlia's parents have been making the BEST meals we've ever tasted! In fact, everything in the kingdom just tastes better, and looks better too... I'm sure you'd love it." Her eyes become downcast for a moment, as she looks to a sketch of Aster on her new sketchbook. It has a star on the cover, different from her previous sketchbook that had a rose. "Then again, I guess you can't taste the food, right? Heh heh... And you're already seeing how much things changed from up there... But still." She stared at the drawing longingly for a moment, before snapping out of it and smiling to the small star above her once again "Oops! I'm rambling again heheh I should wrap this up, wouldn't want to stay here until sunrise... Again hahaha" She laughs it off, recalling a previous night she went to talk with him and stayed up the whole night long. She flips her sketchbook to a page with a small list of thing she wanted to share with him "Let's see what else, what els- Oh yeah! This morning a little girl called me "princess", that was pretty cute. I tried explaining to her we don't have a monarchy anymore, and she just looked at me like "huuh???" hahah... So I kinda just rolled with it." the girl shrugged, as she nudged Valentino to wake him up, so they could go home. The goat slowly opened his eyes as she continued "I'm no princess, never wanted to be one, but... I guess that's what people see me as now... And I don't know, I'm happy with that... At the end of the day, who they're seeing is just... Me. Just some girl who didn't give up on them... Maybe that's what being a princess is all about, right? Hehe" She chuckled as she got up from the tree branch, and carefully climbed down the tree. "Anyway, see you same time tomorrow!"

Asha begins to make her way away from the tree, back to the kingdom she goes... But then her eyes lit up, for she just remembered something really important

"I ALMOST FORGOT!" She once again turns her gaze to the star "Hahah wow I really am tired- Well, I don't know if stars even celebrate it but anyway... Happy birthday, Aster."

She knows it's his birthday, because it's the date her parents passed away, the date her grandfather wished upon a star, and Aster gained his purpose. That was 18 years ago.

However, when she turned to look up at him again... The small star is not where it was before.

Asha was smiling a second ago, but now she looks puzzled, she squints her eyes trying to find him, but it's like the star simply vanished. The girl was about to ask herself where they were, but her answer comes sooner than she thinks...

"Yeah, stars don't celebrate it actually" Aster's voice chimed in, with the usual cheerfulness she missed so much.

...

Asha felt her heart jump out of her chest, not believing her own ears. Her face is astounded as turns to the source of the voice...

Lo and behold, Aster is sitting on the tree branch, happily dangling his legs with his trademark cheeky smile.

"Buuut they decided to make an exception for me today, I even got a pretty neat birthday gift heh heh" The star added, trying to hold in their own giddiness, almost as if he's "playing it cool"

Asha stared at him, her jaw dropped and her eyes were so wide it's like they'll pop out of her face... She blinks, squinting her whole face a few times, like she's making sure this is not a dream.

"Maaa!" Valentino snaps her out of her daze, as he happily hops back to the tree to greet Aster.

Asha realizes this truly is not a dream. She feels her heart pounding as she sprinted back to the tree, almost tripping on the grass as she does so.

Aster let their emotions overtake him as he eagerly flew to her embrace, giggling with childlike joy.

The two lovers hug like they haven't seen each other in years, even though it's been only a few weeks.

"You're back! Did they finally agree on letting you stay here?!" Asha was overjoyed, as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and she felt that same warmth and safety she missed so much.

"Hheeheh Agree is a strong word" Aster chuckled, with his eyes pointed upward while he embraced her warmly "There's so many of them, I'm pretty sure they can't unanimously agree on something" He concluded with a smile as the two parted from the hug to look at each other, Aster admired the gleam in her eyes as he added "But I did make a deal with them."

"... A deal?" Asha still smiled broadly, but she raised one eyebrow at that comment "What kind of deal?"

"Heh it's a long story" The star admitted looking to the side. He hates to say it, but pretty much what he did was wish upon all the stars above to help him be with her, and after a lot, as in, A LOT, of convincing, they finally had a compromise. Luckily, Aster knows just how to summarize that story "... I think I can explain it to you... In my own way." Aster quotes the same phrase he always tells her before he begins to sing a song.

And sure enough, he leans forward, his forehead gently touching her.

As begins to sing.

And we get the song:

This Wish (Star Reprise)

So I looked up all the stars, just like me And I told them just how bright is your light "Her heart is bigger than any galaxy Her bravery outshines us all in the night"

(Asha blushes, as Aster describes what exactly he told all the stars about her, she hugs him tighter and so does he, he begins to fly with her in his arms, as he sings the second verse)

So I made this wish Asking for our everlasting bliss So I made this wish To give you even more than...

(Aster moves his head to look at her in the eyes as he caresses her face gently, Asha smiles at him expectingly to know what he's gonna say... Aster takes a deep breath)

*breathes in* *breathes out* ... This.

(They kiss.)

(Asha is stunned for a second, but quickly melts into the kiss, shutting her eyes as they slowly go round and round on the air. Valentino is jumping excitedly on the ground bellow them. With her eyes closed, Asha doesn't see that Aster and her are being enveloped in golden magic flowing around them. The music swells, with orchestral instruments being played triumphantly. The stars are shinning brighter.

Aster's magic is leaving his body, and we see that as they kiss Aster slowly turns from a 2D animated drawing to a 3D model like Asha. But not only that, his clothes also begin to change, as his long flowing cape is dissipating into star dust, floating around them like a gentle tornado.

Once they slowly and gently land their feet back on the ground, Aster's magic shoots up like a firework (That also happens in beauty and the beast but I couldn't find any gif with that part))

(Asha and Aster softly separate from the kiss. Asha still has her eyes blissfully closed, so she's yet to see how Aster has changed...)

So I made this wish To stay forever with you like... This

(Asha still has her eyes closed while Aster sings the first line. She opens her eyes during the second line, and her face grows into astonishment and wonder, as she sees Aster's new form... The focus turns to Aster when he says "This")

(Drawing by @uva124 I cannot stress this enough: GO. FOLLOW. HER! Aled is so talented!!! AAAAAAH!!!)

Aster is now a 3D character, but that's nothing new, we've seen him like that before in his human disguise... What actually changed was his clothes, because now, Aster is wearing a white shirt similar to the ones worn by any citizen in Rosas, with yellow embroidery on the sleeves. However, the most noticeable change by far is their hair...

It's brown.

With subtle curls forming on some hair strands.

Asha blinked in amazement. Her hand slides down to his chest and she realizes... He has a heart beat now, she can feel it beating fast. Asha smiled at him warmly as she notes

"You're human..."

Aster is just awestruck, as he looks to his own hands and new clothes with eyes wide and mouth agape. He feels so many sensations:

The cold air getting in his new lungs

The smell of the woods at night

The feeling Asha's hand on his chest, in a way that feels completely foreign to him, because now, he can finally feel her warmth too.

"How do you feel?" She asked curious, as the boy seems a bit overwhelmed with everything all at once, he takes a moment before he actually manages to speak

"I- I never felt better!" Aster blurts out, thrilled beyond words as he tries to describe all these new sensations "I can feel the wind, the ground under my feet, the air filling chest I-... I can feel you." Aster looks at her lovingly, and hugs her tenderly "You're warm." He sighs, like he's about to melt into her arms.

Aster's legs shake slightly like he's getting used to standing up, so Asha helps him while also hugging him back, feeling how the now young human's embrace is just as comforting as it always has been, somehow even warmer than he was as a star.

"You too." Asha says softly "So this is your birthday gift from the stars, huh? That's quite a gift heh heh" Asha giggles, now looking into Aster's brown eyes.

"Yup, and it was NOT easy to convince most of them, let me tell ya ahaha" Aster laughs cheerfully, till he looks up and notices something new in the sky, he smiles once he sees it "But they decided that if I managed to give you a true love's kiss, they'd make me human... Not only that, but they'd also use my magic to create something really, REALLY, special."

Asha looked puzzled, and turns her head up to look at whatever Aster is staring at... And she gasps, perplexed by what she sees...

Up in the sky, there's the brightest, biggest and most beautiful star Asha has ever seen... The North Star.

Asha and Aster are holding each other closely, as they look up to the brand new wishing star in the sky, both admiring the awe-inspiring sight.

"It's so beautiful..." She breathed softly, leaning on Aster as she looked up "I bet a lot of people will wish upon them."

"Yeah... Wanna make a wish?" Aster asks.

"Hmm... No need." She says, as she turned to Aster and placed a hand on their cheek "I got everything I could wish for, right here."

She kisses him on the lips once again.

The music swells as we pan out away from them.

We can see Aster lift Asha up and spin her around in the air, while Valentino hops happily around them, and we can hear their laughter as the perspective goes away from them and into the night sky.

We focus now on the night sky, the north star shinning brightly on the corner as we see the stars writing something, like a constellation forming the words:

The End!

End credits roll, with the song When You Wish Upon a Star sang by Sara Bareilles playing

youtube

(Thank you so much to @frogcoven88 for recommending the song and following this story from the start, you were right, it really fits the end credits!)

The credits end, and we get a post credit scene.

It's Asha playing "When you wish upon a star" with Sabino's mandolin, she's playing it perfectly. Aster is sitting next to her. They're both gazing upon the North Star.

"You're getting really good at this." Aster compliments softly once she's done playing.

"Thanks!" She replies happily, leaning her head on his shoulder, and he leans on her head, as they look up to the sky.

The screen fades to black and the last thing we see is the wishing star blinking.

The End.

Final Thoughts

... So... That was something, wasn't it?

Before I gush over how writing this whole story was an unforgettable experience for me and all that emotional stuff, let me list off my thoughts about everything in this chapter.

First, why did I make Aster leave and then come back a few weeks later? Well initially I was just gonna have him and Asha kiss and he turns human cause the stars were like "Fiiiiiiine you two are cute, we're convinced" but then I realized that would mean having their whole kiss and emotional goodbye IN PUBLIC, and I just felt very uncomfy with that idea, so I thought "TIME SKIP!" and so we get them ALONE kissing and confessing their love in the same place where it al began, sweet.

Also I wanted Asha to have a moment with the people of Rosas, having the jester represent all of them, with the gesture of fixing her grandpa's mandolin as an apology, but also as thanks for everything she did to save them. Initially I was gonna have a child give her the mandolin, but I think the jester from the first song returning is a nice touch.

We see how most of Asha's friends, or at least the ones that needed personal growth changed, Bazeema is less shy, Gabo is more caring, and Simon of course isn't sleep deprived, yay!

The Bravo scene broke me ya'll, I have a soft spot for animals, and truly I don't think Bravo was even evil, like, sure he wanted to eat Valentino... What predator wouldn't? He just wanted to please his mama and papa, and now they're gone and he kept waiting for them to come back like one of those dogs waiting for their owners at a train station and WAAAAA- WHY DO I MAKE MYSELF FEEL BAD FOR THE VILLAINS?! Anyway, Bravo went on to live in the forest and he's fine.

Asha was called a princess a lot in this story. Sabino said she was a princess because her dad was a "Prince" and her mother was "A fairy", she was called birthday princess by her friends, the villains wanted to make her a princess so they could control her, Aster said she was pretty like a princess, and finally, the people of Rosas see her as a princess because she saved them. In conclusion, there are many ways to be a princess, but at the end of the day, Asha is just herself.

And I'm sure ya'll are gonna ask me how Aster managed to convince the stars to let him be human, right? Well, like he said

"So I looked to all the stars, just like me And I told them just how bright is your light "Her heart is bigger than any galaxy Her bravery outshines us all in the night""

Which is a fancy way of saying he fangirled about how amazing Asha is to all the stars like

"YALL DONT GET IT! She's deeper than the universe itself! If happiness was a tangible thing, it would be her! I love her so much guys! I need to go back, please! Her eyes shine brighter that all of you combined! People search for a wonder like her all of their lives! Her smile is warmer than the sun! Her laugh is like-"

And the stars are just staring at Aster like "Sir, this is a wendy's" "We've talked about this child, it was decided you're to be in time out remain in your corner of the galaxy for the next 1 million earth cycles, so you may reflect on why you should've listened to us."

But eventually some stars that were already sympathetic to Aster and other ones that weren't before but slowly start to feel bad for him realize even though Aster didn't do what they thought was best... His way of doing things worked, and if it wasn't for his love for Asha they wouldn't have ever won.

So the stars discussed it, and they agreed that they could bend the rules for Aster this time, to do something that was never done before.

I think of it like that scene in The Little Mermaid when Triton turns Ariel human and he's like "Then there's just one problem left... How much we're going to miss him." because like, although they gave Aster a hard time, they really were just his family, his family with more than a billion people but still family.

Soooo Aster got Rapunzeled lmao.

Brown hair Aster my beloved, I've waited so long for this, the plot point of Magnifico saying all wishing stars have blonde hair was just for THIS.

And we get a proper origin story to THE wishing star, aka the portal to Neverland, aka Evangeline, aka The Blue Fairy.

It was kinda what Disney promised us, wasn't it? To tell us where that star came from... Well now you know.

And now... I honestly don't know how to express how grateful I am for everyone who has been following along on this journey, I never thought this would become something so special, I never shared a story before, and seeing the art, the comments, the creativity and inspiration that sprouted out of this makes me feel so happy that I did step out of my comfort zone to put this out there.

The story is over but the journey has just begun, as I still plan on expanding the lore by sharing backstories from the villains and short stories of what happens to the protagonists in the future. Fell free to send your asks to get more ideas flowing out of me hehehe.

And, for the last time... At least in this chapter of the journey...

Thank You So Much For Reading!!!

241 notes · View notes