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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

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I’VE ALWAYS LOVED THE WAY YOU EAT ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.

word count; 4.9k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, just comfy morning vibes, fluff fluff fluff!!, suguru being a good soon-to-be husband, lots of petnames, reader is whipped (and so am i) but suguru is even worse, i need him biblically.

a/n; this is my personal essay on why suguru geto is the perfect man and wife. bon appetit !!

something smells good.

as your eyelids flutter open, and you gradually slip out of sleep’s fuzzy embrace, you are engulfed by that one thought. that one sensation.

there’s a sweet fragrance in the air, an unnamed something you can’t place. a force of love.

soft sunrays flit in through the haphazardly closed window blinds of your bedroom, cascading across the floorboards and bouncing off the walls. splotches of sunshine envelop you in a hazy kind of glow; gentle and coaxing, stirring you awake. it feels good on your skin.

indulging in a few more slow blinks, you shift to lie on your back, halfheartedly attempting to chase the sleepiness away. tangled up in silken sheets and fluffy blankets, you stare at the ceiling — but even such a mundane task feels so nice. just wallowing in the tantalizing scent drifting through the bedroom, the flurry of little kisses that the sun smothers you with.

it’s still early, and you’re still sleepy. outside the walls of your apartment, the sun is rising to its feet, dyeing the world in warm colours; violets and blues melting into pinks and oranges, like an egg cracked open on the canvas of the sky. everything is quiet, not a sound to be heard except for the very distant chirping of cicadas from the trees outside your window. utter peace. like time isn’t even passing.

in the midst of such a precious moment, all you want is to laze around. it’s just that kind of pleasant, mellow morning; the kind that makes you wish the sun would never fully rise.

a satisfied little sigh slips from your lips. content to soak in the heavenly feeling until it passes, your eyes flutter shut — you’re just so sleepy, and the sun just feels so warm. soothing you, making it even harder to stay awake, cradling you in its hazy embrace. sunlit and saccharine.

with the morning fatigue clouding your senses, you don’t even notice the other presence in the room.

suguru smiles, from his spot by the door — leaning against the wall and gazing at your relaxed expression, an immense fondness reflected in his eyes. taking a moment to silently admire you.

you look so content. tangled up in blankets and pillows, with your limbs outstretched and starfished across the mattress. your hair is a little messy, and you’re drooling just a smidge, wearing his shirt; it’s a couple sizes too big for you, slipping off your shoulder and exposing your sunkissed skin. as suguru’s eyes trail over your features, the fond smile on his face only grows, shifting into something honeyed and giddy.

you’re perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect.

a moment passes. then another. suguru continues to stare, as if trying to etch the image of you into his memory. trying to prolong the moment for as long as he can.

until, finally, he’s had his fill. simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough — he needs to see you up close, needs to hear the sleepy little tilt of your voice. so he opts to make his presence known, voice gravelly and sweet, echoing softly throughout the room.

“good morning, sweetheart.”

softly, your eyes flicker open. the familiar voice sends a tremor of something running through your chest — and suddenly, it feels as if some of the sleep clinging to your skin has been washed away. it’s a little easier to make yourself move, shifting to your side to get a better look at the source of the sound.

and the warmth that blossoms in your chest when your eyes meet suguru’s is almost overwhelming.

(god, he’s pretty.)

suguru looks perfect, in the morning. he looks like the rest of your life. hair a little messy, tied up into a lazy half-done bun, silky black strands cascading down his neck. and wearing a pair of comfy sweatpants that hang a little low on his hips, but no shirt — showing off the curve of his tiny waist, the slight twitch of his arms when he indulges in an idle stretch.

you try to restrain yourself from ogling his bare chest and arms too much, but it’s tough. frighteningly so. with the sunlight embracing his skin, muscles on full display, he looks a bit like a sculpture. a little too good to be real.

but he is. and he’s yours. and he’s smirking at you, lazily, affectionately — eyes half-lidded as he balances the tray that’s making the room smell so sweet. just standing there, looking so unfairly gorgeous. waiting for you to muster up the energy to respond to his greeting, more than happy to watch the way your eyes soften as they trail across his features in the meantime.

“morning,” is all you can rasp, eyes closing as your cheek sinks deeper into the mattress. a bit too tired to talk to him properly, and a bit too unguarded to look at him without feeling as if your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

he’s a little too pretty, like this. framed by the hazy sunshine, like something out of a dream. all soft clouds and gentle caresses, the scent of dried lavender, the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill. all things kind and comforting.

you’re afraid that your heart might give out, if you look at him for too long.

suguru doesn’t seem to mind. he only chuckles, voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his lips quirk up into a smooth kind of smile, and he’s quick to make his way to your side; crouching down to meet you at eye level after placing the tray on the nightstand.

a hand comes to caress your cheek. the rough pads of his fingers smooth down your jaw, gentle and doting, as if coaxing you out of hiding. as if you’re made of porcelain. suguru always treats you like you’re fragile, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

(because you are, he thinks. more precious than the expensive vanilla extract he used to make the waffles on the tray, more precious than the diamond-clad ring he’s hidden away in a drawer of the guest room. more precious than anything this world has to offer.)

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you nuzzle into his palm. suguru leans forward to smear a kiss against your forehead, overcome with fondness; warm lips lingering on your skin.

the sensation strikes you as just a little heavenly. his touch is so tender, every caress so full of love. instinctual, the way his love bleeds into his touch, trickles down his veins to the tips of his fingers — smoothing along your skin. such a heavy thing, but he just makes it feel so light.

“still sleepy?” he hums, a little teasing. eyes crinkling, voice bordering on a coo.

and it’s infuriating. the amusement that flickers through his eyes, the way you can tell he’s itching to tease you for being so groggy and tired.

between the two of you, suguru’s always been the one to get out of bed first, to your grave annoyance. and he’s so smug about it. you want to tell him that waking up so early on a saturday isn’t normal, that he’s the weird one for not being sleepy —

but when he’s cupping your cheek so gently, all you manage is a meek little murmur of mm. one that has suguru stifling a coo, lips curling up into an adoring smile.

look at you. his sleepy little baby, dyed in sunrays and tiny specks of dust. so effortlessly pretty, tangled up in fluffy blankets, an image so precious he almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking at it. yet he continues to do so, mesmerized.

(suguru doesn’t mind being a little greedy, when it comes to you.)

“i made you breakfast,” he continues, as you melt into his touch. an absentminded action, but almost brimming with trust; the trust you have in him to treat you well. one he’ll always, always affirm. “your favorite. wanna eat with me?”

breakfast.

something in your brain visibly reacts to the sound of the word, shooing away a little of the morning fatigue still clouding your senses. before you know it, you’ve forced yourself into a sitting position, with groggy movements and a soft groan. rubbing the skin beneath your eyes and kicking the blanket off your legs, a little clumsily.

suguru breathes out a soft bout of laughter, low and amused, as you lazily stretch and indulge in slow blinks. his hand goes to ruffle your hair, and all you do is lean into it.

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he teases, eyes full of fondness. you crack a sleepy smile at his amused tone of voice.

suguru’s hands are big, and a little rough, but still so very soft. you could spend hours tracing them — from the tips of his fingers down to the veins of his wrist, across his knuckles littered with small scratches and barely visible scars. stories of his childhood, that he loves telling you about, almost as much as you love hearing them.

you love his hands. they’re so pretty. so warm and grounding, as they smooth down your hair, unmistakably caring. the weight of them is a comfort, as his fingers card through your bedhead, scratching softly at your scalp. a sensation that makes you feel all fuzzy inside.

suguru is just so good to you.

and you’re only further reminded of that fact when your gaze trails over to the assortment of breakfast foods he’s prepared, neatly stacked on the nightstand. all your favorites, made with so much love; and it’s so evident, even just in the presentation. the freshness of the strawberry slices, the perfect amount of syrup spread over the waffles. the cup of coffee made just the way you like it.

maybe it’s the morning fatigue, or just the softness of the moment. the intimacy, so palpable you can almost reach out and touch it. or maybe it’s something else entirely — whatever the cause, you feel your eyes get somewhat glassy.

a meek little sniffle leaves your lips, and it catches even you off guard.

suguru blinks. suddenly alert, his morning-fatigued brain trying to comprehend the sight of your teary eyes. brain spinning in circles, not sure if it should be telling him to panic just yet. something in him constricts, twists and turns, a desperate kind of yearning to protect you.

but before he can even reach out to wipe away the wetness with his thumb, you’ve latched yourself onto him.

arms snug around his waist, face tucked under his chin. fitting into him like a puzzle piece. breathing in the remnants of the cologne on his neck; a nice bergamot mix that you like, so he sprays on a little extra just for you. so close to him that you can feel the patter of his heart against you, as you soak in his body warmth.

and his arms find their way around your form just as naturally, without him even having to think. like every bone in his body was born with a desire to cradle you close. like he was crafted in the image of someone made to soothe you.

being in suguru’s arms is pure bliss. the most grounding sensation you know, one that never fails to calm you down, no matter how stressed or anxious you’re feeling. with his broad chest and strong arms, his bergamot-scented skin. so doting, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, trying to console you. his hair tickles your cheek a little, but it’s comforting.

”what’s wrong, honey?” he questions, voice set on a low, particularly soothing lilt. coaxing, almost cooing — a tone that buzzes with safety. his big hands go to rest on your head and back, smoothing down your spine.

”nothing,” you sniffle. feeling a little silly. ”you’re just too perfect. ‘s not fair.”

a pause.

then, a chuckle bubbles up from suguru’s throat. something fond and delightful unfurls in his chest, a kind of relief; a feather-light amusement.

(you’re so ridiculous, he thinks.)

but you only nuzzle further into his neck, all sleepy and affectionate — and it stirs his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel rather helpless. crumbling beneath your touch. gazing at you with soft eyes, a happy little hum buzzing in his throat.

he takes you in, in all your clingy glory; so impossibly sweet. maybe he should have sprinkled some sugar on the strawberry slices, just to see if the taste could ever measure up.

”ah, is that so?” he drawls, a lazy amusement flickering through his eyes. playful. ”i’m sorry, baby. i should be the one saying that to you, though.”

but you just shake your head, arms tightening around his midriff. as if offended that he’d have the audacity to brush off your objectively correct statement, to even think to deny how perfect he is.

and suguru raises a brow at you, in tandem, a mild protest resting on the tip of his tongue — offended at your blatant disrespect, shaking your head at his factually correct words, as if disagreeing with your own evident perfection.

but before he can even begin to fight you on the topic, you part your lips to speak.

”thanks for breakfast, sugu,” you sleepily murmur, biting back a yawn. still a little meek, but oh so loving. ”i would die for you.”

he stills, once more. then another soft bout of laughter escapes his lungs, rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm. it makes you feel so terribly safe.

“there’s no need for that,” he assures you. ”don’t you wanna eat instead?”

to his surprise, he’s met with another soft shake of your head. so snug in his embrace that you could practically live there, only clinging to him a little tighter with a huff.

”just wanna hug you first…” you yawn, arms squeezing at his waist affectionately. shifting in his hold until your lips find their way to his neck.

”i love you,” you mumble, kissing down his jaw and collarbone. sleepy, open mouthed pecks, trailing over the expanse of his pretty skin. ”so much.”

it tickles, a little. suguru digs his teeth into his cheek, ever so slightly, just to hold back the giggle that threatens to break out from his throat.

and it’s maybe just a little too sweet, the sensation that blossoms in his chest, something honeyed and flowery; fluttering deep within his ribcage, like a dragonfly buzzing and trying to break free. it gets him a little weak in the knees.

to distract himself from the voice in his head urging him to go get the ring in the guest room drawer right this instant, suguru scoops you up. cradling you close, as he plops down on the mattress, legs crossed to give you space on his lap.

you don’t protest, only snuggling a little closer — as if yearning to tuck yourself away within his ribcage.

and suguru chuckles, the deep tremor of his voice reverberating through his chest, echoing in your head as you listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. rubbing your back with a teasing smile, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head.

“i should make breakfast more often if it’ll get you like this,” he grins, basking in the warmth of your body against his.

a little whine falls from your lips. muffled into the curve of his shoulder, against his bare skin. “it’s not about the breakfast,” you pout, looping your arms around his neck. “it’s everything you do…”

a heat rises to your cheeks, a little embarrassed at the sappiness you’re exuding. but the sun feels so nice on your skin, and the bedroom smells so good, and the whole world feels so kind.

inhaling the fragrance of bergamot and coffee, you can only fall apart at the intimacy of the moment.

“i’m really grateful…” you murmur, resting your lips against his skin. buzzing with a warmth that has him shuddering. “‘m just bad at expressing it.”

suguru’s eyes soften. melting into a tender hue, like that of a creamsicle sunrise sky. a dreamy look smoothes over his features, and a fond hum buzzes in his throat.

“nah, you’re fine,” he drawls, squeezing at your hips affectionately. pulling away ever so slightly, just to plant a kiss on your forehead, brushing your bangs away with a certain bleeding tenderness. “you don’t need to say it out loud. i know, anyway.”

and he does. suguru understands you better than anyone; a point of immense pride, for him. knowing you so deeply that he can practically hear your thoughts before you speak them, knowing what you need at a single glance. just from a certain furrow of your brows, or the slight tilt of a smile you’re trying to hide.

always one step ahead, folding your laundry on days you’re feeling particularly stressed out, or giving your hand a comforting squeeze when he notices that you’re nervous. always so attentive. it’s a little overwhelming, but also so comforting — to be so thoroughly understood.

his eyes are warm. full of pure affection, a devotion so heavy it makes your heart stutter in your chest. all you can do is glance down, shyly, slumping your forehead against his bare chest.

your voice comes out a little strangled, still raspy. a little wobbly in the wake of your adoration.

“i wanna appreciate you…” is muffled against his skin, your lips curled down into a soft pout. and suguru breathes out a flustered little breath, amused — somewhat delighted.

“you can appreciate me by eating a hearty breakfast,” he suggests, a teasing tilt to his husky voice. cradling you just a little closer, as if even the miniscule distance between you is unbearable. as if he needs your hearts pressed together to keep himself intact. “how about that, hm? or would you rather give me a kiss?”

a moment passes, and a sleepy hum slips from your tongue. he feels your lips touch the soft skin of his neck, once more; then you muster up the strength to pull back from his embrace, slumping against his shoulder with your back against the headboard. it takes concentrated effort.

and suguru chuckles, again. odd, how a man who’s normally so put-together can’t seem to ever hide his joy whenever you’re around. but suguru is just a little too weak for you — he can’t help but let you strum his heartstrings along, however you want. any kind of melody you desire.

(it just so happens that no melody sounds prettier than a joyous one, when it’s falling from his lips.)

a lovesick smile painted on his face, suguru watches as you finally dig in. and he thinks it’s precious, the strawberry juice smearing your lips, the contentment in your features as your eyelids flutter shut. a mellow kind of pride swells in his chest with every satisfied hum that you grace him with, every giddy declaration of how delicious it all is.

there’s something about it he can’t quite explain, can’t put his finger on. something almost otherworldly, in how fulfilled it makes him feel, like he’s lived his entire life just for this moment. just for the sake of making you breakfast and watching you wolf it all down.

suguru doesn’t think there's a single better way to show his love for you than this; cooking for you, putting every last drop of his love into everything he makes. from beverages to pastries, each of them carefully chosen to suit your tastes.

there’s an intensity to the labour, something that brings him great joy. the care and excitement in something as small as the flick of his wrist when he pours sugar into your coffee, or the weight he puts on the kitchen knife while cutting the fresh strawberries he spent four minutes picking out at the market.

there’s something about it that’s just so, so tender. that earnest wish to see you happy and healthy, to make sure you never go hungry. taking care of you. it's pure, domestic, love incarnate. he’s so weak for it, so sappy, but he just can’t help it — suguru loves watching you eat his cooking more than anything.

that, and your blissful little expression is a sight to behold. sunkissed by the morning rays flitting in through the window blinds, suguru thinks you look something like an angel, soft and fleeting and so beautiful it makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. heavy thumps of blood; warmth trickling from his heart to his wrists to the pads of his fingers, as he rubs absentminded circles into the skin of your thighs.

and he thinks to himself that all the happiness he needs is right here in front of him. in this moment, with you tiredly munching on the breakfast he made, sipping slowly from your cup of coffee and savouring every last drop. smiling at him so sweetly, so positively precious that he simply can't resist leaning down to taste the caffeine off your lips.

everything feels so wonderful, so completely and utterly right. the world feels so kind, like this. a world where all that exists is you, and him, and the sun. heaven on earth.

all of it sends a tremor running through his heart, every slight change of the scene reflected in his eyes. the soft smile on your lips, the way you lean your head against his shoulder and bite back a yawn, the expectant look in your eyes as you feed him pieces of your food with a giddy grin —

suguru thinks to himself that he’d sooner die than give it up.

as much as he loves sleeping in, loves indulging in your warmth until the sun sits comfortably on the blue canvas of the sky, he loves this even more. loves dragging himself out of bed before the sun even has a chance to peek out beneath the horizon painted pink and purple, tired and groggy, and so disgruntled at the warmth that leaves him when he pulls away from your skin. loves making his way to the kitchen almost in a daze, moving around the open space so very naturally; fingers curling around the lid of the espresso machine, and the crinkled paper bag of pastries, and the carton of orange juice he bought just for you.

just watching the world wake up, basking in the peace and domesticity of it all. basking in the thought of you — you, with your messy bedhead and droopy eyes, always blinking up at him so sleepily when he returns to you in the morning. he loves it all.

the soft little frown that sometimes tugs at your lips when you’re still lost in dreamland, blindly and subconsciously reaching for the empty side of the bed when he gets up to stretch. the weight of your arms around his waist, hugging his back on the somewhat rare occasion that you make your way to him before he makes his way to you. the grumbles against his skin about how he always abandons you on your days off, even if he only does it so he can make you both coffee.

you, in all your glory — now resting against his shoulder as you plop the last strawberry into your mouth, closing your eyes with a blissful little sigh.

and suguru feels so lucky. so very honoured, to be the one you chose. the one and only person who gets to see you like this, when your voice is still raspy and your hair is still messy, and you have crumbs sticking to your soft lips that you're too sleepy to wipe away.

he does so, himself, with an amused little huff that’s really more of a sigh laced with adoration. thumb smoothing over your skin gently, a silent i love you hanging on the tip of his tongue. his fingers find their way to your skin so effortlessly. like they belong there, like they exist solely to trace the softness of your jaw and to cradle your cheek.

”thank you,” you beam up at him, grinning sweetly.

and suguru knows that you mean it. he knows that you’re grateful, knows not a moment goes by when you don’t notice his affections, no matter how subtle. he thinks you're a little bit silly for worrying that he doesn't. but he thinks you're even sillier for not realizing that you deserve all of it and more, that just that sweet smile of yours alone is more than enough to make up for it.

more than anything, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that you know the opposite is true as well. that he appreciates every single thing you do, notices everything you do for him, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.

you're so good to him. always have been. how could he ever bear to not repay you in tenfold?

”you’re welcome,” he smiles, soft and saccharine and genuine. his lips brush against your forehead with a soft peck, one that has your body melting into his just a little more.

breakfast passes you both by in a flurry of warmth, splotches of sunlight and content hums, until you’re lying side by side beneath the blankets once again. curled up close to each other, with you resting on suguru’s chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart. his arm rests on your back, cradling you closer.

”that was delicious,” you chirp, something soft buzzing in your voice as you bite back a yawn. stretching your limbs out lazily, a honeyed smile on your face. ”as always.”

suguru’s a little too tired to fully hide the soft grin that crawls up to rest on his lips, almost smug. awfully happy with himself, and your words of earnest praise.

“yeah? ’m glad,” he hums, looking at you with affection swimming in his eyes. ”i haven’t lost my touch yet, then.”

”of course not,” you exhale, somewhere in between a huff and a chirp. “you could start a whole breakfast diner with your skills!”

the words are teasing, a little much, but laced with a syrupy sweet sincerity that has suguru’s heart doing laps in his chest. thump, thump, thump — strumming his heartstrings along as you please, conducting the orchestra inside his ribcage. but he’d much prefer to think of you as his muse.

a low chuckle rumbles through his body, akin to a purr. buzzing right by your ear, as his fingers curl around yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hand. ”you think so?”

an eager nod, as you gaze up at him happily. the sight makes his lips twitch upward, and he can only hope you don’t catch the way his heart skips a beat.

smoothing a large palm over your head, he tousles your hair fondly. ”yeah?” he chuckles, again. “you'll be my first customer, then.”

the smile on your face widens. ”will i get a discount?” you ask, a fuzzy contentment in the way your eyes glimmer. ”since i’m your favorite.”

suguru grins. a husky puff of laughter seeps out of his throat, filling the air with a palpable fondness. it’s almost overwhelming, the affection that simmers in his chest, a cup overflowing. he wants to reach over and smother you in kisses, wants to coo at you. wants to tell you how irresistable you are, like this; so cute and sleepy that he thinks you could probably coax him into giving you every star in the sky.

but that can all wait for another time. he doesn’t want to break the peace of the mellow moment, the subtle intimacy that lingers in the air. the playfulness in your words.

”of course,” he simply says, indulging you with a sweet smile. ”you’ll get all the discounts you want, baby. nothing less for my favorite customer.”

suguru’s eyes crinkle, brimming with love when he hears the happy little giggle that tumbles from your pretty lips. so pretty that he can’t resist pulling you a little closer, to give you another kiss — relishing in the way you soften against him. like you could fall asleep just like this, so safe and comfortable. breathing him in.

sunlight shines in through the window blinds, engulfing you in that familiar heavenly hue. your bedroom almost seems to glow, like a hazy polaroid, a moment that feels too precious to put into words.

you look stunning, he thinks, with your droopy eyes and sleepy yawns. absolutely breathtaking. soaked in a brightness rivaling that of the sun herself, the most precious thing this world has to offer.

and suguru thinks to himself that this might just be it. that this might be all that he needs, all that he’ll ever need — but he already knew that.

he thinks of sunrises. of soft embraces and fluffy blankets, of expensive coffee pots and diamond rings, of the way your lips curl up every time he kisses you. he thinks of the light of morning, how it always seems to devour everything else. how it makes every sliver of darkness seem so inconsequential.

he thinks of how your presence always seems to do the same.

when suguru looks down, pulled out of his lovesick stupor by the sound of a little snore, you’ve fallen back asleep. cheek squished against his bare chest, drooling a smidge as you dream so prettily, your chest rising up and down in a rhythmic serenity.

his heart flutters. fleeting and giddy, a little dove trapped in his chest. with a sweet coo, he reaches over to caress your skin with the back of his hand, careful not to wake you — so gentle that he holds his breath, as if afraid that even a single exhale could disrupt your well-deserved rest.

butterflies dance in his stomach, when he sees the way that makes you smile. a whirlwind of them, wings fluttering eagerly, as if attempting to fly out of his throat. he gulps them down again, but he can still feel them. just like he could when you first met.

butterflies that still haven't gone away, despite how long you’ve been together. butterflies that never will go away, as long as there are plates to fill and breakfasts to be made.

in other words, they're there to stay — forever and ever.

(suguru’s gaze falls on your ring finger. he thinks of the secret in the bottom of the drawer, and wonders what kind of breakfast he should make for you when it’s time to bring it out.)

#im normal abt him!! i swear i am!!!!!#smth about extremely devoted malewives with black hair just do it for me #suguru geto n aki hayakawa are like this🤞in my brain #i think suguru was like. crafted specifically to look good in the morning #like that deep voice……. his hair in a messy bun………. wearing sweatpants w no shirt……………….. i am on my hands n knees #this ended up almost as a parallel to my gojo fic…. it wasnt even intentional blame stsgs soulmatism #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #geto fluff #geto suguru x you #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk

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mmadeinheavenn · 11 months ago

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jelly text tutorial! (works with shapes as well)

what you need: ibis paint x, premium or free version doesnt matter

step 1: color

yes we're starting with color! I highly suggest using multiple colors for a prettier finish. I prefer parallel gradiation but as long as its blurry anything should look nice. pick analogous colors for the best result.

step 2: write the text or draw/import the shape.

as it says! if youre drawing it, make sure its on a new layer above the gradient! I suggest using rounder, bubblier fonts/shapes, one of my favorites to use is starborn on all uppercase. the color you use does not matter as it will be the background color in a short bit

step 3, the jellificationing

this little friend called "water drop (rounded)" in effects under style is your best pal. its here to help you and make the process so much easier.

so just press it and fiddle around with it until you're happy with the result.

step 4 (optional): refracting

to help it make look more 'realistic' I tend to add another layer of the water drop. to do this I simply copy the previous one and go do the same effect on the top layer

step 4.5: tips

you need to make sure the refractive index for the second one is turned down all the way, or itll look weird, streaky, etc. make sure the highlight and highlight size settings are lower than the previous time you used this effect. and make sure the little sun symbol (the light source) is on the edge of the opposite direction of the previous time you used the effect. so if the first layer of jelliness had the light source coming from the top right, the second layer should br on the very edge of the bottom left.

step 5: begone, background

yeah, we're done with that, this will also be the big reveal of the final image

and then you just crop to fit and then save as a transparent

bam! heres the final thing!

I dont know how good I am at explaining but I hope this helped! if youre confused dont be afraid to ask!

#🌫️ i know what you dread | creations #rentry #rentry inspo #rentry resources #editing resources #editing #editing tutorial #edit tutorial #edit resources #rentry decor #rentry graphics #carrd resources #web graphics

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cyclesprefectpress · 1 year ago

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[image description: photos of The Disco Elysium Tarot, printed letterpress in an edition of one from handset lead type and linoleum blocks. It is a complete 78-card tarot deck printed primarily with white text and illustrations on medium grey cardstock, in a custom dark grey hardcase box with a hand-marbled orange and yellow endsheet. The backs of the deck are decorated with an illustration of a sprig of may bells, and a quote from Smallest Church in Saint-Saëns: "None of this matters at all." The interpretive meaning of each card is expressed on its face with a small excerpt of the game's text. The Minor Arcana are divided into four suits of Harry's Attributes—Motorics, Psyche, Physique, Intellect—and each card in that suit is a quote from a skill under that Attribute. The Major Arcana are assigned quotes from other sources like NPC dialogue or Thought Cabinet problems & solutions. Pips for the Minors are counted with diamonds like the game's skill points; each actor or title is printed with their in-game color, but made shiny & metallic with bronzing powder.

each piece of text was set in handset lead type, assembled from individual pieces for each letter and space, and printed relief on a chandler & price clamshell press. end description.]

🎊🎊 Desert Bus for Hope starts for 2023 on nov. 11th and i have made an item this year for the craftalong that will be up for giveaway between 6am-12pm on Monday the 13th! 🎊🎊 It is a full tarot deck based on Disco Elysium and it has several pieces of my heart & soul in it but NOT my blood because i put a bandaid right on that :) donations for this and any other auctions & giveaways for Desert Bus go to Child's Play Charity.

notes: i did not make a whole new interpretive model for this deck, apologies, that was outside of my scope. it's generally compatible with a Rider-Waite model, with Motorics for Wands, Psyche for Cups, Physique for Swords, and Intellect for Disks. (full distribution of text listed by card, linked below. any spelling or transcription errors you find there, i promise i fixed them in print—that's copied from my digital mockup which was copied hastily from screenshots.)

i also do not track hours on these kinds of projects because that way lies madness, but i will say: i knew how much time it would take to print it. it was a lot but i was not worried about it, i know how to print. i was very worried about how much time it would take to absorb the sheer amount of text, and distribute it across the cards, and really get an array i believe in. i was right to worry, and i have absolutely had a few anxious nightmares about discovering the Perfect excerpt that should've gone in and i missed it, and the suit of Intellect made me want to lay on the floor a few times, but still! i believe there's many versions of a deck you could make from this game and this one is a good one.

i think the Minors fit really well with the double-edged sword of Harry's skills, their advice, their priorities. the circular way the Fool-World assignment works out makes me smile every time. The colors on The Star came out so nice. i think Justice fulfills some of my favorite things about Kim's character & purpose in the story. i worried sometimes that editing to such short clips would lose too much of the politics of the game, but of course you can't really take them out and they're especially present in the Majors—the Devil and the Hierophant, The Star and The Sun. i've wanted to design a tarot deck for years and i love this game deeply and i let this idea percolate for a few months and it never stopped making me laugh so here it is, & given a beautiful purpose :)

i also literally could not have done this without xyrilin's Disco Reader and the FAYDE On-Air Playback Experiment to navigate the dialogue and skill checks. Really couldn’t have tied the whole concept & colophon in its final bow without the Disco Reader :)) thank thank thank, they're so fun to investigate that it was honestly very difficult to focus on my task instead of veering off and exploring every branch in an extremely disorganized way.

actual printing went well honestly, very few problems! i think that means i'm getting pretty good at planning one of these monstrosities, although perhaps it also means i'm not challenging myself enough. hmm. no that's silly there's 78 ding dang cards in this thing. anyway the drop & replace formes worked well, no registration issues. mum convinced me to overprint another half a deck's worth of cards when I was printing backs & borders and of course she was right :/ there were a handful of cards that actually had better line breaks and fewer lines total in true type than in the digital mockup, so i needed all the spares I had to put those new short quotes into the appropriate border breakage. next time i will not question her.

handset in Garamond, Eden Bold, and secret Neuland.

WIP : full text card assignments

bonus photo of the kind of trash notes i always take to plan things like how many borders were printed with space for short excerpts vs long excerpts, and how many of those are majors vs. minors, because they have a slightly different frame at the bottom edge, etc.

[image description: they are truly garbage notes, i tell you. half of it is written at angles to the other half, many numbers in the math problems are not labeled, mistakes are scribbled over. it gets me there but it doesn't look pretty. end description.]

#desert bus 2023 #desert bus for hope #disco elysium #book arts #letterpress #letterpress printing #handset type #printmaking #db2023 #finished works #long post

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bellysfromthefarside · 8 months ago

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2 of 7 - Burger King Remake - Gorging at the Fridge

Travis engorged gut at the fridge being poke by his frat mate. The kitchen door swung open and Travis waddled in after another shift at Bubba’s. It had been nine months since he began working at the burger restaurant, and his belly had continued to swell. “So…what’s the damage this time?” one of the roommates asked, as Travis slowly moved over to the refrigerator.

“One dozen burgers! A new record!” Travis answered proudly, while opening the refrigerator door and removing a beer. “You look like there’s a basketball under your shirt,” stated the other roommate, as he reached out towards the hugely rounded belly.

Travis was in the process of taking the first big gulp of his beer when the finger of his roommate was placed into the deep belly button. “Buuuurrrrppp…” Travis let out a big belch, “Be careful, I’m nice and stuffed tonight!” “You’re overstuffed every night! You’re as fat as a fuckin’ hog…you need to find a job that doesn’t do this to your belly,” the roommate recommended, as he continued to poke the bulging burger gut. “I like working there…the people are great…and so is the food…and its free! Besides,” Travis continued, “It’s not that I’m fat; I’m just gettin’ a bit of a gut!” Even Travis couldn’t help but laughing at that statement as the three of them looked at the huge bloated belly. Travis had in fact gained a lot of weight. He was now up to 260 pounds with almost all the new weight stored in his very protruding round belly. He had only gone up a couple of blue jean sizes, but even an extra large T-shirt had to stretch to fit over his gut.

Source

------ Voting and Accessing Exclusive to the full 100 sets dropping on Patreon Now which image is you favorite? Voting decides the images in the final video production. The full set impressive! Happening only over at Patreon Exclusives.

See you rounder! Tom

#ai belly #ball belly #overeating #beer gut #ball gut #lineman #feed me #bulking #mpreg belly #gaining weight on purpose

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hesokuri-wars · 1 year ago

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The next 4-star set has been announced and we’ve got more high school Matsus! This time they’re ready for swim class, simply called the Swimsuit (High School Student) set.

They attack many enemies at once and have high HP and attack. They also power up the skills of other characters within the same set as well as characters from the original 3-star Swimsuit set.

This set will be available in the gacha on July 00!

💙 Mod Kara

⬆️ Mod Kara’s words from 2019 ⬆️

⬇️ Mod Ichi’s additional commentary as of 2023 ⬇️

IF TUMBLR WOULD FINALLY LET ME POST THIS THAT’D BE NICE. ANYWAY.

As you can see above, Hesokuri Wars was going to add a set of the 18matsus in swimsuits, but for whatever reason, they ended up never seeing the light of day. A bit of an explanation on how these pics were uncovered:

Back then, the news bubble that popped up whenever a player launched the game was sourced from a webpage. Given that the staff would sometimes write the news in advance, they had a full section prepared announcing the release of this set, and so Mod Kara ripped the images from there and drafted this post in anticipation of its release. Needless to say, that never happened, but we couldn’t just post these, so these guys have been stuck in limbo for the past 4+ years. Buuut now that the game’s been shut down for over a year, it’s probably fine to release them, right?

Gotta wonder what happened that caused them to never be put into the game. Cheers to the set that never was!

🐾 Mod Ichi

#hesokuri wars #hesowars #money wars #osomatsu san #osomatsu san the movie #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #news #mod kara #mod ichi #memorial and legacy #it would feel wrong to delete mod kara's words so i won't #not deleting the tags either

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chronosdawn · 1 year ago

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Finally back with some writing and it's a little drabble inspired by this post which had me in chokehold as soon as I read it.

Zhongli x GN!Reader, Soulmate AU

Word count: ~1.5k

Liyue harbor was just as beautiful as your grandmother had always described, with its layers of orange and green-roofed buildings overlooking the shimmering blue water that lapped gently against the rocky foundations. You had no idea how your grandfather had ever talked her into leaving it all behind for the snow-covered wastes that made up most of the scenery around your tiny hometown in Snezhnaya. Even the mere memory of the bitter wind that used to sweep over the plains was enough to make you shudder despite the balmy temperature of Yujing Terrace, sheltered as it was by a mountain your grandmother claimed to have been raised by the Geo Archon himself.

Currently the space was bustling with locals and travelers alike, all anxiously counting down the seconds until this year’s Rite of Descension. The Yuheng of the Qixing, a young woman with long purple hair done up in twintails, was doing one final check over the large stone table laden with items that you couldn’t quite make out from your position towards the back of the crowd. While it might have been nice to have a better view for your first time attending the ceremony, unlike the business owners clustered around the front, the source of your income didn’t depend on the events of today so you were content to take a backseat to the proceedings.

A hush fell over the crowd and you peered over the shoulder of the man in front of you to see that the Qixing member and the two attendants standing either side of her had ceased fussing over the layout of items on the table and were now stood with their hands folded in front of them. A moment of stillness before the spectacle that was to come.

The Yuheng appeared to take a breath before raising her hand in some sort of sign as the air around the terrace began to crackle and spark with power. A set of precisely executed gestures had the energy surrounding the table start to coalesce, gathering into patterns and symbols that flickered in and out of existence too fast for you to make sense of them. The Yuheng turned, directing the energy towards the stone table where it then shot into the sky in a great beam of golden light.

The heads of all present lifted skyward, watching as a mass of clouds formed around the beam, twisting in on themselves until they resembled a swirling vortex—a gateway to the heavens.

Moments after, a speck of bronze appeared amid the churning whites and grays and a murmur of excitement ran through the crowd as the majestic serpentine body of Rex Lapis began to emerge. You felt as though the breath had been knocked from you—your grandmother had described the grandeur of the Geo Archon’s dragon-qilin form from the time she’d attended the rite as a youth, but no mere words could do justice to the subject of legend gracefully descending through the sky, sunlight catching on the golden fur at the tip of his tail. But despite the magnificence of the god, your eyes couldn’t help but catch on the long claws at the ends of his limbs and the sharp, jagged spines that ran along his back, a faint shudder running through you as you imagined what they could do if turned upon human flesh.

You looked away as you forced the images from your mind, wondering where they’d even come from in the first place. It was as you did so that you became aware of a tingling warmth spreading its way across your left forearm, right where your soulmate mark was hidden beneath your long sleeves. But if it was reacting like this then that meant—

A mixture of anxiety and excitement curled in your gut as you swept your gaze over the crowd, the fact you were in the presence of a god momentarily forgotten with the knowledge that your soulmate was somewhere here amongst these all these people.

But no matter how hard you searched through the sea of faces, all of them were still staring at the archon who’d just descended from the heavens with awe on their features. Okay, perhaps your soulmate was just caught up in the excitement of the rite. You just had to wait for them to notice and then they’d look through the crowd, as you were now, and your eyes would meet like in the stories your mother used to tell you as a child.

It was as you were running through how you were planning on introducing yourself when you became aware of someone’s gaze on you, the heavy weight of it urging you to duck behind the bodies in front of you.

You didn’t however, instead steeling yourself as you turned your attention towards its source and met a pair of blazing amber eyes set in a decidedly inhuman face.

Why was Rex Lapis staring at you? Was he offended that you weren’t paying as much attention to the rite as everyone else? Or had he somehow been able to sense your connection with your soulmate flaring up?

It was then a crackle of lightning shot up your arm—all of the heat with none of the pain—and just like that you knew.

No. No, it couldn’t be, there was no way—

Yet no matter how much the logical part of you tried to deny it, the truth had just been burned into you and now sang through your veins. You were Rex Lapis’s soulmate. And judging from how intensely he was staring at you, he knew it too.

You couldn’t breathe, could barely think under the sudden weight of it all. Would he reveal the truth? Have you dragged out and paraded in front of all these people? What if someone had already noticed something?

Please, you silently begged the deity in front of you and anyone else who would listen, please don’t say anything.

After what felt like an eternity, the pressure on your shoulders vanished as the god turned his attention away from you and addressed the assembled crowd before launching into some financial forecast you were far too frazzled to pay any notice to. Sagging where you stood, you took deep gulping breaths as you scanned over the throng. Everyone’s focus was firmly on Rex Lapis and whatever divine wisdom he was currently dispensing—it didn’t look like anyone had noticed anything, thank the gods. Or rather god, you supposed, daring to glance at him once more. Whether he’d heard your pleas or chosen not to reveal anything to his own ends, you had no way of knowing.

The only thing you did know was that you had to get the hell out of this nation. Half the reason you’d left Snezhnaya in the first place had been to avoid becoming shackled to a god during the increasingly frequent Fatui recruitment drives, you certainly hadn’t come all the way to Liyue just to end up bound to a different one.

This was all wrong, your soulmate was supposed to be some merchant or moderately skilled adventurer—someone normal you could settle down and enjoy the simple pleasures with. No part of the plan you’d made for yourself when you came to the decision to leave your hometown featured being soulmates with a six thousand year old god. One the Seven at that, Celestia above.

No this—it was too much. Far, far too much for someone like you to deal with.

While a part of you wanted to bolt right then and there, you forced yourself to stay until the end of the rite, certain that even if that ancient gaze was no longer bearing down on you, he’d notice the second you started to sneak away. You had no idea how the archon whose soul was bound to yours would react to you attempting to run for the hills right in front of him but you decided you didn’t particularly want to find out.

Time dragged on and on, the deep voice of Rex Lapis filling the air as sweat pooled in your palms and your heart tried viciously to beat its way out of your chest. Finally the rite came to a close and you watched warily as the massive scaled form of the Geo Archon rose back towards the sky without so much as a glance at you.

The second the golden fur of his tail vanished into the clouds, you turned and sped away from the offering table as quickly as your legs could carry you without breaking into a run. Perhaps, had you been a little less panicked, your legs would have carried you south towards your meager apartment to shove as many of your possessions you could fit into a bag before leaving for good. Right now, however, you didn’t want to stay here a moment longer than absolutely necessary so you took the path north instead, the quickest route away from the harbor. You had no idea how long you had before your soulmate might come calling and it wasn’t a gamble you were willing to take, not when you were already questioning the absurdity of attempting to run from a god. At least you had enough mora on you to cover the essentials until you reached the Stone Gate and could flee to Mondstadt—after that you could work things out from there.

Now deprived of the immediate presence of your soulmate, the marking hidden under your sleeve had begun to ache—an invisible hand tugging you back to where some divine tapestry felt you were meant to be.

You ignored it, dutifully forging onward without once looking back, completely unaware of the amber gaze watching you go.

#Zhongli x reader #Genshin Impact x reader #soulmate AU #genshin x reader #Rex Lapis x reader #I don't think this one requires any warnings except for age difference maybe?#but I mean with Zhongli when is an age difference not going to come into it #I haven't posted any writing in months and I am nervous #my writing #please forgive any errors it currently one in the morning

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should-know-better · 1 month ago

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What's in a name?

Thinking about the name "The Last Shadow Puppets" today. We know that Alex has never been happy with the name 'Arctic Monkeys' so it seems reasonable that he would take considerable time and pains to choose a name for the side project with Miles. Indeed, we know that Miles also gets quite involved in wordplay (just listen to Ransom).

The official story for the name, according to Miles in the 2008 Daily Record is:

“We got the name The Last Shadow Puppets because a friend of ours was on the phone lying on her bed and she was doing shadow puppets on the wall.”

Then, the pair also speak about it in the John Norris interview (part one). X

However then, in this 2016 interview (dailymotion.com) Alex tells us that the name was due to them listening to "sixties girl groups, and the Shadow Puppets seemed like it could be a sixties girl group name."

Hmmm... so a totally different story. Had Alex forgotten how they decided the name in that 8 year period?

Also, who is this girl who was on the phone to them? (Three people on one phone call in 2008 also seems odd to me? idk??) So I wondered if this is a constructed story that they came up with to hide a deeper meaning of the name.

I soon discovered via a quick google, that the original story doesn't even describe 'Shadow Puppets.' Images using hand shadows on a wall is called 'Shadowography' or 'Shadowplay' (which surely is referred to in EYCTE, especially as it refers to an ancient impulse, which is described below).

'Shadow Puppets' are flat figures that are placed between a light and a screen, that have been used as a traditional art form for centuries. So, in other words, you DON'T SEE THE REAL IMAGE OF THE OBJECT creating the art. Although it's not until later that we see Alex's different personas for each record, I wonder if he has thought about people seeing the real him for a long time.

Now consider the word, 'Puppet.

Definitions from collinsdictionary.com include:

'a doll that you can move, either by pulling strings that are attached to it, or by putting your hand inside its body and moving your fingers'!!! I promise I didn't make this up! or 'a person whose actions are controlled by a more powerful person even though they appear independent.'

Sexual connotations aside, is it possible that Alex is aware of how controlling the record industry is, even at this young age? I know that in interviews around the time, he's excited about everything that is happening with AM, but is there a little cynicism in there too? Little examples are dropped out, like AM originally wanting the first record out many months before it was (John Kennedy interview), so perhaps he's realised the control that the industry has over him - controlling him like a puppet.

I do like this definition of a puppet though:-

'they are a symbol of transformation and metamorphosis, a vehicle for expression, granting freedom and creativity where we might not be able to find it.' 'Puppets are a mirror that reflect back our own desires, fears and aspirations.' Source: storymaps.arcgis.com

The 'Shadow' side of the name also fits nicely with what we perceive of the relationship between Alex and Miles:

Shadow - 'a darkness in a place caused by something preventing light from reaching it.'

Am I overthinking when I consider this an apt description of someone hiding something? Or a feeling that you have if you're unable to be the real you?

Finally, we come to 'The Last' part of the name. 'Last' also has multiple meanings, some more relevant than others, including, 'the only remaining', 'the most recent' (e.g. last year), 'to remain usable for a length of time' (e.g. built to last). 'Last' applies to something that comes at the end of a series, but does not imply that the series is completed or stopped.

However in the John Norris interview, Alex and Miles explain why they chose this word:-

JN: And the 'Last' part of it?

MK: Cockiness, arrogance...

AT: Arrogance...

MK: Arrogant little bastards.

AT: Stark arrogance.

MK: Yeah.

Why was the word 'last' chosen as arrogance? It could be that they are saying there will never be another us, but that's not arrogance, it's true for everyone.

I wonder if it is referring to them having a youthful optimism that they feel that they won't be manipulated by the music industry. They are aware of what goes on, but it won't happen to them.

This would tie into the timing of the release of the name. Up until only a couple of weeks prior to the album launch, they were going to be called 'The Turner and Kane Project,' (see NME article January 2008 and John Norris interview). Then suddenly it changes. Could it be a ironic nod to the many X-Factor artists who were everywhere during this time and who were manipulated by the industry? The most recent Christmas Number One had been Leon Jackson, who had just won the show (and it was obvious that this would get to the prestigious festive top spot).

I'm not saying that Alex and Miles were dissing the artists, more so that they were saying, we are not going to be puppets in this world. After all, they got to record their album - Miles said in his interview with Nihal that the label said "let him go and do that with his mate," when Alex asked.

As usual, we will probably never find out the real thought behind the name. Maybe there was a girl? Maybe it was wordplay? After all, Alex told us that the album titles were ironic to him, so maybe it's not too much of a stretch that the band name could be too.

#The Last Shadow Puppets #TLSP #my theories #overthinking again #band names #miles kane #alex turner

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toastingpencils37 · 7 months ago

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So the new sets have been officially revealed, and a couple silly things I wanted to note from the images:

Tournament City has a telephone. Old timey telephone, but still a telephone. Not anything important, but interesting and nice to note

Cole's Titan Mech has a long ass blade piece, and based on other images, some good posing articulation, especially with the arms and hands, so it doesn't have to stand with its hands awkwardly like other Titan mechs do.

Looks like Tox may actually be competing? Or the set images are just showing this to fuck with us. And show kids they can play with Tox like she's in the Tournament. Dunno

And we know who's responsible for Jay's demise in this set now.

The Source Dragon of Motion has two of those click-click joints for her wings

And despite most likely having thumbs in the show the set is just giving her the typical three toed foot.

And that's a nice looking tail. Especially the fade on the blade piece.

And finally, Nya's spear is hella nice

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago dragons rising season 2 #ninjago sets

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nadas-dirthalen · 24 days ago

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I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART TEN, THE FINALE: if you haven't read previous parts, do it now! —

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ]

Welcome, friends and travellers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(no, this photo isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

The Story of Solas: Him Solas Evanuris, Da'durgen'lin (3/3)

— From the Long Sleep to the Dark Present —

If you're still here, I thank you, from the bottom of my tired heart. I am doing MY BEST to get through this final bit of theorycrafting, all in one long, gigantic post, the night before Veilguard.

I haven't been spoiled. Please no one tell me anything. I want to be able to properly say I did all this, all 10 parts, without spoilers of any kind.

This post is going to be long. Let's dive right in. We've got:

A Tiny Aside, First: Solas's Paintings are Really Important, Actually

The Herald, the Breach, and the Horrible Future

Solas's Thoughts on the Grey Wardens

Fear in the Fade

All New, Faded for Her

But Solas Left, and Not for Pride

Terror Unfolding on the Din'anshiral

What Rook Did and the High Cost of Failure

Veilguard Predictions

[Image Source.]

A Tiny Aside, First: Solas's Paintings Are Really Important, Actually

I'm writing this segment last, but placing it up here because the other sections are sort of in order. So hello. Welcome, first, from a very tired Nadas Dirthalen.

I just wanted to make mention of a few key lines regarding Solas's paintings. Emmrich remarks on them as not just memories: they are what Solas wishes to forget. (No source; I'm not hunting for footage right now.)

The Regret demon is able to spring out from them. Huh.

And, finally:

Cole: You like to dance, but can't. You hate to sing, but can. You should not paint. It would be very bad if you did.

Given that I believe Sera's playing with "small painted boxes" gave her a fragment of that memory Mythal stole from Andruil (its own theory; so many people before I have explained it in depth), I'm going to go out on a limb and say that the Evanuris, existing in a time before sundered Titans, could trap memories in things.

Like stone. Like paintings on stone.

It's said that the Shapers put their actual thoughts into the Memories. I wonder if this means creating small spirits, like wisps, in the Stone; an echo of Titans' ability.

I wonder if this means Solas was literally offloading tiny spirits of Contemplation and Regret in his paintings, the whole time. Memories taken out of himself, so he could stay true to his purpose.

(Do I have any idea how that would work? No. Do I still think it's true? Yup. Do I have time to look it up and weigh it against everything else that could be possible? Absolutely not. Enjoy!)

Anyway. I wonder if that's why he paints everywhere: because if he doesn't, his problems will consume him, forcing him to take another... terrifying... shape.

(Yes, this is foreshadowing; keep reading. <3)

The Herald, the Breach, and the Horrible Future

Solas wakes up from uthenera, hands his orb off to Corypheus, and then Corypheus doesn't die. We know the story. What I want to touch on is the fact that the Inquisitor doesn't die, either. They are dyING, but they do not die immediately, which Solas thought would happen even for Corypheus. Beyond the fact that Corypheus has, by that point, been using the orb for some time, I want to talk about why the Inquisitor doesn't die from the orb.

Because I have a theory.

Solas speaks to a high-approval Inquisitor about wisdom: one that he has never seen in their people, regardless of who those people are. I had to look it up to make sure, but it's true.

dwarf PC Solas: Dwarves are practical. They do not dream. The cannot even imagine a world beyond the physical. But you have shown subtlety in your actions. A wisdom that goes against everything I know of your people. Qunari PC Solas: Qunari are savage creatures, their ferocity held in check only by the rigid teachings of the Qun. But you have shown subtlety in your actions. A wisdom that goes against everything I know of your people. human PC Solas: Humans are shortsighted, brutish. Blind to the beauty of the Fade, their minds cast in a duality of black and white. But you have shown subtlety in your actions. A wisdom that goes against everything I know of your people. Dalish PC Solas: You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours… have I misjudged them? [Source.]

The Dalish dialogue speaks of what I want to focus on: a spirit like yours.

My hypothesis is that the Inquisitor is a spirit from the same Titan as Solas is, and that Solas's true name really is Contemplation. He is seeing a spirit like himself, from the same home.

I think this is why the Inquisitor, even a non-mage Inquisitor, can visit Solas in the Fade and surprise the shit out of him. It's because the Inquisitor, imbued with the mark, has awakened something deep in their subconscious. Something they don't even understand.

Connection.

Isatunoll, with one singular other person (who is very single, the moment she asks, if she asks, har har).

From this and other things already covered, I know: Solas marvels at the sight of spirits similar to his, and people similar to him. He seeks for those spirits and people to thrive, and mourns their death. Ultimately, he wants the Titans to be restored, likely for the benefit of all future spirits and for the benefit of the Titans themselves (we'll get there).

That's why the Breach is a threat to him, even when he wants to tear down the Veil.

Solas wants the Titans brought back, but not as they are right now. Right now, they are Terror, Malice, Pestilence, and Spite. Before, they were something else: something happy and whole. Un-sundering them is a first step to their regeneration, but they will first come back as those unhealthy aspects.

And the Breach, should it tear open the Veil, would likely break the Evanuris's prisons, thereby releasing them. The freed Evanuris would continue wounding the Titans and manipulating the blight. The Titans would never heal; they would always be fighting back. (We'll get there, too.)

And we know this information because we had the chance to play through In Hushed Whispers.

During In Hushed Whispers (IHW for short), we saw a timeline where the Breach had been allowed to completely tear open the Veil, without the Evanuris being re-imprisoned. We see Solas as a prisoner during this questline, showing that he did not get to do what he wanted.

The whole sky is blown open and swirling green—but surely we all saw how much red lyrium is everywhere, too. They're growing it out of people, and if we remember the Chant of Light, we remember that (however abstractly) the Chant tells us that the Maker's second children (aka, everyone after the Evanuris) are formed with bodies made of lyrium and spirits comprised of Titans' thoughts.

That is Solas's worst nightmare, even though the Veil has been torn open. Because what Solas wants isn't just the Fade being rejoined with the waking world, but for the Titans he was forced to wound to be able to heal.

Clearly, with that abundance of red lyrium, they were not.

This, I believe, is also why Solas says, "You change... everything," to a high approval Inquisitor.

If the Inquisitor's soul truly is a spirit that comes from Terror, either pre- or post-Veil, it means one very crucial thing to Solas. It means that not all of Terror is blighted. That someone mortal, so much younger than him, is comprised of a thought from the Titan he has been mourning for thousands of years.

Which brings me to...

Solas's Thoughts on the Grey Wardens

Picture that you are Solas: once Cool Contemplation, now Cold Dread. You have spent thousands of years mourning the action you were forced to take, leading to the destruction of everything you knew, and also your connection to everything and everyone else. You have just woken, made another grand mistake, but in the process you have discovered that one singular person is made from the same Titan as you, and remains free of the blight.

One. But it is enough to hope for a world you thought could never exist; one you were willing to tear down the Veil to fight for anyway, despite that.

Still some hope remains for restoration.

PC: I wouldn’t mind never having another Blight. Corypheus interfering is the real problem. Solas: The Blight is the real problem. PC: And the Wardens are trying to end the Blight. Solas: Yes! Would it have worked? Do you know? Do they? The fools who first unleashed the Blight upon this world thought they were unlocking the ultimate power. [Source.]

Except for that some people have been drinking the blood of archdemons, WILLINGLY ingesting the foulness of turned Titans. Some people are WORSENING the very thing that you think has a teeny tiny itty bitty chance of being fixed. And what do they want?

They want to charge straight for Titans' hearts to exact violence upon the archdemons, who aren't actually the cause of the blight at all. Because you are. You, who is watching them suggest all of this as if it's a serious idea.

I dunno, folks. I'd be a little salty, too. Especially if they were unknowingly making casual mention of my worst fear...

Fear in the Fade

I always found it curious that Fear spoke to Solas in Elvhen. I mean, yeah, it makes sense, but why do that to the player, when Solas clearly has a grasp on the common tongue?

To make it a puzzle, because BioWare loves their puzzles. Well, I love puzzles, too, as we can all probably guess by now.

Trick Weekes says that, essentially, the Nightmare's words are, essentially, "Your pride is responsible for everything that has gone wrong; you will die alone." Solas's response, according to Trick, is, "Nothing is known for certain / Not necessarily."

But, knowing "dirthara-ma," "banal," "ma," "enasalin," and "salin," I am led toward this interpretation.

Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din. May you know, Dread. Your blight led to victory. Your pride leads to your death.

And Solas's response?

Banal nadas.

Two interpretations. One is "nothing is inevitable," just like Trick says. The other is "The Nothing is inevitable," where The Nothing refers to the blight. And yes, they knew that in this scene. The Nothing is Sera's greatest fear.

Knowing what I know now, I agree with Solas on both counts, and that's why I think, now, that this is such a genius line. Solas toes the line between hope and being "grim and fatalistic."

The blight—the blighted Titans, fighting back—are inevitable to him. They are a fact of life, and why he must tear down the Veil. So they have a chance at ever being healed.

But with the Inquisitor's existence? That chance exists already. The Nightmare shows us, then, that Solas stands on a precipice throughout his time in Inquisition, because hope continues to chase him.

The Titans are waking—but what will that mean?

All New, Faded for Her

This, I feel, is the deciding line for Solas during his time in Inquisition. We know that ultimately he makes the same choice at the end either way—he leaves the Inquisition as soon as Corypheus dies.

Cole: He hurts, an old pain from before, when everything sang the same. You're real, and it means everyone could be real. It changes everything, but it can't.

But until that exact moment? I believe, for many Inquisitors, Solas makes the firm decision to stay.

The Inquisitor is real. They are a real person, with a spirit so much like his own, and they continue to survive, not blighted. There is hope for Terror. It means everyone could be real. The Titans might heal on their own. It changes everything, but Solas can't depend on that change: not when the Inquisitor might be the only good thing to ever happen in these thousands of years, and abandoning his duty now might mean never seeing the world healed.

Can't he?

I believe that doubt in his own convictions—and his decision to stay—come in the moment pictured above. The moment where his friend is allowed to die as itself, as Wisdom, not bound as Pride. The moment where the Inquisitor shows Solas that there might be a world where the current society embraces the People (spirits; Titan-thoughts; Titans) that he knew.

You know what else happens during that part of his personal quest? Solas leaves. He genuinely debates leaving the Inquisition while he mourns.

PC: Guess I owe Varric an ale. I wasn’t sure you were coming back. Solas: Neither was I for a time, but only a short time. [Source.]

He visits the Fade; the spot where his friend used to be.

PC: Where did you go? Solas: I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in the Fade where my friend used to be. It’s empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday something new may grow there.

Stirrings of energy. Not in the Fade. In the Void, which the ancient elves referred to as synonymous with the Abyss. That's odd—shouldn't spirits go back to the Fade when they die?

No: this represents a Titan healing. Stirrings of energy; a scab crawling over a wound.

Cole speaks often of hope. The Inquisitor as a beacon, burning bright for both spirits and the people worshipping the Herald of Andraste.

I believe this is why: the Inquisitor represents hope for the two worlds joining—literally and figuratively. And their soul represents something that Solas sees in Wisdom's death: that the Titans may be healing on their own, in a way he never expected. The blights may end on their own, in time.

And Solas would have stayed to see it. He would have come back to a romanced Lavellan, after Corypheus's death.

But...

But Solas Left, and Not for Pride.

Let's remember Solas's first words after Corypheus's defeat.

Solas places the pieces back on the ground and stands. If Solas has high approval: PC: There’s more, isn’t there? Solas: It was not supposed to happen this way. [Source.]

He sounds genuinely shattered in the moment, much like that orb. That's because he had no time to mask the feeling, as he had been for the entirety of DA:I up until that point. This was a crushing loss.

The defeat of his fleeting hope.

Why? Well, to keep it brief because I swear my hands will give out before Veilguard releases at this rate: I, like many, many others, believe that pieces of the Titans make up magical foci. The ancient Tevinter call them the vessels of dreams, and we know now what dreams are.

We also remember the Trespasser mural of a sundered Titan, and how the orb on the Fade half (left) bears a direct resemblance to the ones Mythal and Elgar'nan carry in Solas's Lighthouse mural.

I believe that this may have been Solas's sundered heart of his own Titan. Terror.

Home, all gone.

Now there is only the Inquisitor sharing kinship of any kind with him, because Wisdom is dead and Terror is half-dead, too.

It doesn't matter how much Solas appreciates the Inquisitor's company, or how they represent an end to his loneliness. It doesn't matter how much he loves a romanced Lavellan. It can't matter.

Because the Inquisitor is mortal. They will die, and unless Solas does something, their soul will not go back to Terror if Terror does not exist at all.

Solas—Cold Dread—was not motivated by pride when he left the Inquisition.

He was motivated by fear.

Terror Unfolding on the Din'anshiral

I literally have no time to unpack the existence of this man's wolf form. Anyone who wanted to read this post for that, I'm so sorry: I don't know why it's a wolf. I suspect I'm not supposed to know why.

I will say this: I wonder if when Solas sundered the Titans, maybe he also sundered a (blighted) wolf form from himself. One he could previously shapeshift into, like seems to be the case with the Evanuris and their archdemons.

Do I have evidence to link? Nope not really; only that it's weird, then, that Solas's Dread Wolf absorbed—

Nope, okay, I've got a theory. Normally, I edit out these real-time realizations. Not today, Satan.

What I was going to say is that, if Solas had to sunder himself from the wolf when he made the Veil, it's awful weird that the wolf (sundered) somehow absorbed Urthemiel's power from Mythal.

Only: I don't think the wolf was sundered, and I remember evidence that backs that up.

Anyone remember the inexplicably killed Qunari from Trespasser?

"Backs hunched, eyes wide open... They were scared shitless when they died," says Bull.

"More dead Qunari with terrified expressions," the Inquisitor later remarks.

They were killed without wounds. They were so afraid that they instantly died. I really wondered what happened, there, since Solas has been known to petrify (a lot of) people.

It's because there's two magics going on. One, Solas's magic from being from the Stone/Titans.

The other... Dread.

I'm not sure if Solas mysteriously left no pawprints (lol) in Trespasser. What I do know is that Solas and the Dread Wolf are the same being—and that if the Dread Wolf truly is blighted, that is why both sides of the Evanuris's conflict would worship him. Solas symbolizes power over the blight—representing hope for a future with a cure, or indomitable Evanuris power, depending upon the story.

Now that THAT epiphany is out of the way, let me continue on with what I was going to say about Trespasser and the din'anshiral.

Solas, after Corypheus's defeat (more importantly, after his orb shatters), has little left to lose. If he doesn't act and do everything necessary, it's only a matter of time until the other orbs are lost this way. Until the Veil weakens and breaks entirely. Until the Evanuris walk free and take the Titans for all they've got left.

His fear is mounting. He is not acting in Pride during Trespasser (however haughty he might come across); he is acting in fear. Fear that makes him try to put on a brave (and maybe prideful) face. Fear that sends him crumbling every time his vhenan is in his line of sight. Fear that has him suddenly callous with an Inquisitor he isn't friendly with, because he no longer has time to play nice and is scared shitless of the consequences of failure.

The man is literally the living embodiment of anxiety. Cold Dread.

This is why Solas says he is walking the din'anshiral. The path of death; the path of endings. Because Terror's heart is dead in his hands. Because he carries the blight. Because the Veil is weakening, the Evanuris are on the verge of escaping their stone prisons, and he doesn't have a way to stop them.

If he fails, the Inquisitor is mortal. Wisdom is dead, and there are mere stirrings in the Void. There is no guarantee either his spirit friend or the Inquisitor will ever come back in a way he will recognize, if either of them come back at all.

And if Terror's vessel of dreams is shattered and lifeless, who is to say that Terror will ever dream again? Who is to say that there will ever, ever be another Titan-thought, another spirit, that Solas will feel close to in the same way?

I'd be willing to cause an apocalypse for that reason, too. Maybe a war between Tevinter and the Qunari, just for funsies, because my perpetual anxiety that makes up the entire core of my being sometimes needs a distraction.

(Tiny sidenote that did not fit in elsewhere: mentioning again that the spirit guardians in Trespasser say, "Revas vir-Anaris," which means "Freedom we-Anaris," which is the name of a Forgotten One. Wondering if it means Solas previously fighting to free the elves borne of Anaris, or maybe freeing Anaris (Terror??) from the blight. But also? I wonder about that Anaris and Andruil story in a way I have no time to dissect. Really, what does anything mean? Okay. Carry on.)

What Rook Really Caused and the High Cost of Failure

I honestly think things were going great for Solas (as much as a sad, dirty bed roll alone in the Deep Roads where he was probably cuddling rocks and crying can be called great) before Rook showed up.

Yes, he had an itsy bitsy little Regret demon tear apart Skyhold.

Sure, he had a little bit of a Dread-Wolf-shaped meltdown at the Mortalitasi. (On that note, I think he had said wolf-shaped meltdown because the Mortalitasi are stopping spirits from reconnecting with their Titans once they leave the fade because, oopsie, all the necromancers are catching them and putting them into corpses instead.)

But other than that?

Great. Really great. No sense of cold dread here. Nope. No sir. Definitely not guiding every single one of his actions, from petrifying random people all the way to breaking time a little bit (?) to save Varric's life in Arlathan.

He makes it up onto his little (dilapidated, fracturing) staircase in his (also under-construction and very unstable) ritual site in Arlathan, and his ritual's begun (right out in the open, with an eluvian leading right to it that we all somehow have the password to, because he definitely doesn't want to be stopped at all, nope, not at all).

The Evanuris are going to go into their stone prisons! Rock Jail 2.0: Waking World Edition! It's great!

Until Rook shoves over one of those not-quite-stable statues. Which falls into another statue (Falon'Din's?). Which then topples one more statue, before Solas shatters it (which....... buddy. Why.)

Point is: ritual broken, Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan freed, blights inevitable, Titans doomed. You know: Ma banal enasalin. Your blight wins, Dread.

Except that's not all.

Those other Evanuris, whose archdemons we killed? My guess is that they're not gone from their stone prisons. Remember what happened when we killed Corypheus's dragon? The soul just flew back into Corypheus, who was then mortal for a time (and we dropped him in the Fade instead, smh, Inquisitor, we literally went over this right before the final fight).

This means that the same is probably true of every archdemon we have killed. That means Dirthamen, Falon'Din, Sylaise, June, and Andruil are all out there somewhere, ostensibly, if they are freed from their stone prisons.

What happened in the Hissing Wastes when the stone broke, when we put the torches in the wrong order?

Demons. And what did Cole say about them?

"They were Dwarves. They think they still are. They sound like dust tastes."

And what does the Chant of Light say about the Evanuris?

Those who had been cast down, The demons who would be gods, Began to whisper to men from their tombs within the earth. — Threnodies 5

(sidenote, what if tombs within the earth doesn't necessarily only mean the abyss-earth, but also the rocks in which they're imprisoned in the fade? juicy...)

I think that not only are Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan freed, not only is Terror still broken, not only are the blights back in business, not only are all the Titans still turned—

But five of the seven Evanuris just came back as world-endingly-bad demons.

Who could possess anything.

Or anyone.

I don't know whether Solas is trapped-trapped in Fade Jail™ (because there's an awful lot of wolf statues in there, and yet, he is not bound inside any of them), but honestly, that matters little when examining the scope of things.

The Evanuris all walk free. All seven. And our friend Fen'Harel, Dread Wolf, Cold Dread, Anxiety Incarnate, isn't going to be able to trick them twice.

Veilguard Predictions: the Ballad's Conclusion, or Does the Song Go On?

Oh my god this post is so long, this series is so long, my hands hurt, please for the love of god, I need to employ some sort of brevity somewhere.

Here's some predictions. I'm so tired. I've written so much.

Harding: her powers awoke, apparently, when she touched Solas's dagger. I'm wondering if that is reconnecting her to Solas's blood (which might be what makes the dagger?) or Solas's Titan. We also saw that diamond concept art, didn't we?

Varric: If you know, you know. Lyrium dagger, dwarf. If you don't know, close your eyes and pretend you read nothing.

Lucanis: You know what's really funky to me? The fact that Lucanis is possessed by Spite. And this is a time when all the other five Evanuris might possess some people. And this game might really just be Who Got Possessed By Whom. But, I think the thing Spite wants might be to see Solas dead. Or, Spite might want to see all the Titans healed. Or some other third thing that is sure to stomp on my heart.

... Sidenote I think we're going to see all the Forgotten Ones, and maybe even find out the one who's unnamed.

Solas: Fen'Harel walked among both clans of gods. The Forgotten Ones counted him as one of their own. It's possible Solas might be Terror. Not sure how that works! Not sure how sundered Titans operate! But it would sure be neat if the elven word for Contemplation were Solas's true name, and also the "true" name of the final Forgotten One (as they all have two names; their qualities and their name-names).

Emmrich: You know who'd have a really good shot of freeing all those spirits from the Necropolis? Three guesses. And you know what might happen if all those happy spirits that the Mourn Watch gave therapy to all move back into their Titans? Well, something really nice, plus a whole lot of crying from us. Sidenote: if Wisdom had enough time to reincarnate into an incomplete wisp before Solas's terror-orb broke? You know who'd be a really great candidate for a skeleton to house New Wisdom? Three guesses.

Neve: Magister Gallus is the one mentioned in the Gangue codex. :) But also, Neve is widely theorized to be the Archon's bastard child. It would be amazing to me if Magister Gallus were some other relative of hers—but how would that work, with Neve notably born as a commoner? The other, OTHER theory I've seen floating around is that this Magister Gallus is actually Neve's husband. But also—how does THAT work, with what we know of Neve?

Taash: Sylaise creation. Or Ghil creation. Who knows? Maybe Taash is how we find out the origin of all kossith. Maybe Taash is a little bit more dragon than other kossith. Maybe Taash is half scaled one, half kossith.

Davrin: Something something, the griffons woke up as the Veil began to come down. I don't know what that means, except more in the line of "Titans are waking" things. But also? He's a Warden, and he's about to see how much the Wardens didn't know about the blight. And also, Solas is blight patient zero and/or the source of all blight. And he's the Dread Wolf. Either Davrin and Solas have a lot of growing to do, or maybe Davrin is a source of anti-Solas sentiment.

Bellara: :) I really think Dirthamen, who potentially escaped the Fade in the time of the Magisters Sidereal, is hanging out with Bellara. She's got new vallaslin that none of the rest of us have access to. She's obsessed with knowledge. She has a very funky piece of ancient technology and just seems to have a way with old elvhen knowledge and equipment. Sleeper agent Bellara? Secret betrayer on our hands, or has Dirthamen become something better, kinder, than he was?

The Truth About Solas and Mythal's Relationship: I'd be so shocked if it were romance. I think, rewatching that post-DAI credits scene, they just trauma-bonded a shitload when Solas was born. Maybe I'm wrong! But if anyone in all of Thedas would have a reason to trauma-bond, it's them: the guy who started the blight, and the woman who made him do it; the two Evanuris who begged the others not to go back looking for more blight.

The Eclipse: Dirthamen and Falon'Din? Do I just love the Bird Boys™ too much, or is there something here?

Blackened Hearts Memory: I was wrong with Falon'Din, I think, and stumbled into the answer with Mythal. I think Mythal blackened the first Titan heart.

Do We Win?: man. Please. I'm just begging. Please let us be happy after all this. Do you know how much I cried, falling into the truth about Solasan and the dread at the door? I need a happy ending here. Or I need someone at BioWare to get me a nice cup of hot chocolate. Something.

Is Solas A Villain?: Bro have you even been reading? No. Pookie's never done anything wrong a day in his goddamned life. Let him sing Hallelujah in peace. :)

Do We Stop the Blight?: What other choice do we have? It's beat the Evanuris and fix the Titans now, or end up in a blighted world forever...???? Or... kill the Titans and kill all magic? Guys. Please don't kill all magic forever.

That's all I have in the way of major predictions. Probably.

---

I need a nap. You're a hero for reading all of these, if you have. <3

I'm still on an internet blackout until I have Veilguard in my hands, so I am likely not to reply here. But I promise: I will be back soon, when I've seen the game's story play out!

Let's all have some fun in Thedas tomorrow. :)

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Match Found ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - 17 . Let Me In (20 Cube)

Synopsis: Jungwon is sick of his friends' constant teasing over his lack of gaming skills. Determined to secretly improve and prove enha wrong, Jungwon sets out to learn to play, except he has no clue where to begin. Luckily for him, y/n is a girl with too much time on her hands, a desperate need for distraction and is more than happy to indulge him. Only, things are never that simple and Jungwon soon finds it difficult to explain exactly what the pair have become. college Student! Jungwon x gamer! Reader

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(2.4k) written work :: warnings: cursing

It's dark. The only source of light is the small lamp in the corner and the dim screen that illuminates Jungwon’s face. His fingers hover listlessly over his phone screen, landing once again on the Twitter icon.

Jungwon chews on the inside of his cheek as he refreshes your profile. Once. Twice. And again. Nothing new, just like the last 40 times he had performed this ritual. So he resorts again to looking at your last tweet.

He basically has your caption memorized at this point, and your image burned into the back of his eyelids. That doesn't stop him from examining the picture over once again, committing each detail to memory. “She's on a date with him, that could've been you. It should've been you,” a traitorous voice hisses spitefully in his head.

“Shut up. It couldn’t have been me because I wouldn't have been able to afford to take her to such a nice restaurant in the first place. That's why I’m even in this position. Stupid La Raisin or whatever it's called.” Jungwon rebukes the envious voice bitterly.

He sighs at the realization that he’d officially lost his sanity and had begun arguing with his inner consciousness. Closing his phone with a resounding click, Jungwon watches as your picture fades to black and tosses the device somewhere to his side.

Exhaling deeply, Jungwon stares at his ceiling trying desperately to distract himself from the fact that you were somewhere, sitting across from Na Jaemin, probably planning your perfect future together. One that doesn't include him. Fuck this sucks so bad.

It's silent, save for the occasional honks of traffic outside and the muffled laughter and yells from his roommates downstairs. Silence that only welcomes more thoughts that inevitably trail back to you. Maybe I should’ve joined game night. Anything would be better than drowning in my own self pity up here alone.

His inner monologue is broken by the chime of a single notification. Jungwon reaches for his phone wearily, expecting a chiding text from Jake for sulking in his room again. But his screen reads differently.

Y/N <3 : Hey. I’m outside. Let me in?

Jungwon stares unblinkingly at his phone, waiting for the mirage to fade from view. Or a follow up text that says 'wrong person sorry' or 'jk its a prank'. It doesn't, instead another bubble pops up underneath the previous one and Jungwon’s heart feels as if it might leap out of his throat.

Y/N <3 : Come on Jungwon, don’t make me ring the doorbell. Just open up, yeah?

Jungwon blinks, and in a flash he’s bounding down the stairs before he can even think to deny you. He ignores the way his roommates' heads turn curiously at his haste, stalking over to the door and throwing it open.

You jolt at the sudden movement before your eyes land on Jungwon and you relax into an easy smile, “Hey Jungwon.”

Jungwon stares back at you, as if he can’t believe that you were truly in front of him. His eyes trail over the satin fabric of your dress, the fur haphazardly draped over your shoulders, and the necklace that sits snugly in the hollows of your clavicle. You swallow nervously at his lack of response and his eyes follow the movement up to your flushed face, finally landing on your eyes.

“Jungwon? Who is it? You good?” Sunoo questions from inside the house but Jungwon doesn't bother replying. Shifting awkwardly at the tense air, you cock your brow teasingly at Jungwon, trying to fake nonchalance. “So? Are you gonna let me in?”

Jungwon wordlessly opens the door a bit wider, tilting to the side to offer you entry. Internally you sigh in relief and step inside, ignoring how Jungwon’s fingers brush against your waist to steady you as you take off your heels.

Choosing not to wait for Jungwon’s direction, you make your way further into the house. You greet the boys with a quick wave before marching up the stairs to Jungwon’s room, plopping yourself down onto the edge of his bed. Jungwon’s stood still at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at where you had disappeared into his bedroom.

“Bro, what are you doing? You’ve been miserable for weeks. Go. Talk to her.” Jake motions exasperatedly at Jungwon who nods numbly, stumbling up the stairs. Jungwon walks into his room shutting the door behind him, finally facing where you look at him expectantly from his bed. You gesture for Jungwon to sit beside you but he declines with a shake of his head, standing at an arm's length from you.

He regards you for a second, taking in your appearance. Unlike the usual sweats and oversized tees you donned around him, you were dressed to the nines. It suited you, the draped satin across your body, the fur coat that had slipped slightly, exposing your bare shoulder that seemed to glow under the moonlight.

Your jewelry glitters even in the dim lighting, and it's almost painful to look at, the way you shone. You didn't seem the slightest bit uncomfortable in your attire, you wore it like a second skin.

You looked so out of place amongst Jungwon's simple belongings. His jaw clenches at the thought, you were right in front of him, but you had never felt farther out of reach.

“Why are you here?” Jungwon asks quietly and your smile falters slightly at the question. It’s the first thing he’s saying to you after weeks of radio silence, and it stings. You push down the hurt that bubbles underneath the surface of your skin and shrug impassively.

“I wanted to see you, I missed you,” you answer simply. “You didn’t miss me?” Your eyes bore into Jungwon intently, scanning his face for any indication of the warmth you so desperately craved.

Jungwon brushes off your words, continuing resolutely, “You should be on your date with Jaemin, why are you here Y/N?”

Anger flares in your chest, and you scoff, crossing your arms in annoyance. “Jungwon, do you really dislike me that much?”

“No, I-”

“Then why do you insist on forcing me to go through with this Jaemin thing? Why do you insist on ignoring my feelings and distancing yourself from me? At this point I'm just convinced that you’re sick of me,” you glare at Jungwon accusingly.

“I am not sick of you,” Jungwon splutters indignantly, “I just want what's best for you. Jaemin is a nice dude with a stable future, he’s perfect for you. You're supposed to be with someone like him.”

You throw your hands up in frustration, “Oh my fucking god Jungwon. I want you. What don’t you understand about that? Even Jaemin can see that I’m not supposed to be with him, I belong here with you. And if you don’t want me here then just tell me. But if you do, stop hiding behind this Jaemin thing just because you’re too much of a coward to admit to yourself that you have feelings for me.”

Jungwon’s nostrils flare at your accusations and his fists clench tightly at his side. “I’m not hiding behind anything,” Jungwon snaps, “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything else in the world, and I want to be selfish but I can't.

I have nothing to offer you. I’m a dance major not some CEO, I don’t even know where I'll be in 5 years. I can’t guarantee a secure future for you. I won’t subject you to a life where you have to give up on your wishes and be forced to work in your dad’s company for me. So if being with Jaemin means that you’re secure and happy then yeah, I'm going to push you towards him.”

“Honestly Jungwon, you're worse than my father,” you scoff rolling your eyes, “Regardless of all the shitty comments my dad made, at least he left the final decision to me. But you? You chose for me without even considering or asking what I wanted. I don’t care about my future if you’re not in it. What made you even think for a second that I would care about any of that?”

“Yeah? Well I care. I care because I know you deserve the entire world and I can't give you that. I can’t even come close. And I won’t be able to live with myself knowing that I robbed you of the life you deserve just because I was too fucking selfish to let you go,” Jungwon seethes through gritted teeth.

You rise to your feet in anger, stalking over to where Jungwon stands, leveling him with a steely glare. “None of that matters to me, Jungwon. I don't care if you don't think you’re what I deserve. You're what I want. You're what I need. And if you didn't want me, if you didn’t want more from us and you were happy with the way things were between us? I was fine with that. I could deal with the burden of my feelings being unrequited.”

“I would’ve been fine if we had stayed nothing more than friends, as long as it meant you were a part of my life,” your stare hardens and you poke Jungwon’s chest angrily, “But you wanted to cut me out of your life entirely. Are you seriously okay with us ending like this?”

Jungwon grips your wrist tightly, halting your motions and yanking you closer to glower into your eyes. “Don't you get it? There could never have been an us in the first place, you think that doesn't kill me? To know that you’ve always been out of my reach and I’ve just deluded myself the past few months into playing along with this stupid fantasy? Y/N, you were never mine to begin with.”

Something inside of you snaps. With your free hand you grab a fistful of Jungwon’s collar and pull him down. Your lips crash together in a bruising kiss, fueled by a desperation to make Jungwon understand just how wrong he was.

Jungwon stiffens at the contact before giving in, finally allowing himself to do what he had yearned to for the past month. He melts into the kiss, slotting his lips against yours with equal intensity. Jungwon releases your wrist , his hands sliding up your jaw to cradle the sides of your cheeks in an attempt to bring you impossibly closer.

You kiss Jungwon with the force of every drop of emotion you feel for him. But Jungwon kisses you like it may be his last opportunity to ever do so, as if you're already slipping through the gaps of his fingers. He kisses you like goodbye.

The sentiment is enough to jar you from the feeling of his lips against yours and you break apart, panting as you look up at Jungwon with blazing eyes.

You take a shaky inhale. “Don't ever fucking say that. Not when everything I’ve ever wanted and needed is there in your eyes. I love you Jungwon. I love you more than what I know what to do with,” you step back, letting Jungwon's hands drop limply from from your face. You run your hands through your hair in aggravation, jaw clenching as you look for the words to somehow get through to him.

“I’ve always been yours, and I always will be, whether you want me or not. I told you before, I’ll take every bit of you that you allow me to have. But I refuse to concede what you’ve already given to me. It's not fair. I refuse to lose you entirely, especially just because you're too much of a coward to even take a chance on us,” your chest heaves under the weight of your confession.

Jungwon’s brain feels as if it’s short circuiting, he knows you’re waiting for an answer but all he can think of is pulling you in for another kiss. He opens his mouth to say something, but the vision of you before him, with disheveled hair and reddened lips has his mind coming up blank.

You scan Jungwon’s face, not really knowing exactly what you're looking for. He's still frozen, his mouth opening and closing around sentences that refuse to escape. The pretty flush of his cheeks and his blown out pupils are enough to make your anger deflate and you collect yourself with a shuddering breath.

In the absence of the adrenaline and the blood roaring in your ears, you feel the brunt of the exhaustion and the emotional toll the night had taken on you.

You drag your hand down your face with a groan looking up at Jungwon tiredly, “Look Wonnie, I’m sorry. This isn't how I wanted this conversation to go. You don't have to give me an answer right now. I know it's a lot. So just take some time to think everything over okay? And if you're still not sure that's fine, we can figure it out together. But please, just don’t shut me out again.”

You give a small smile and utter softly, “I really do love you Yang Jungwon, more than anything. I’m gonna go home now okay?”

Jungwon's unable to do anything but nod stiffly in response, swallowing harshly. You give him a final fond smile and turn to leave and his fingers twitch slightly in a last attempt to reach for you.

You open the door and six boys stumble in, landing in a heaped mess at your feet. They scramble to their feet stammering apologies and excuses, as you smirk at all of them in amusement.

With a shake of your head you wave them off wearily and leave, sparing one last glance back to find Jungwon still glued to the spot you left him, his eyes firmly stuck on you.

The room is dead silent as the boys wait with baited breath to hear the front door click shut. The close of the door is deafening and all six heads swivel towards Jungwon.

“Hyung, holy shit. That was insane.” Niki says reverently and Jungwon nods mutely, letting himself crumple against the side of the bed.

The comment sparks a bombardment of questions and exclamations but all Jungwon can hear is the echoes of your confessions ringing in his ears.

His mind races back to the way your lips molded perfectly against his, the brightness of your eyes under your lashes when you finally pulled away. The barely subsided heat crawls back up his cheeks and Jungwon buries his face in his palms with a strangled whimper.

“Fuck I think I'm in love with her.”

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I might shatter your perfection, Your small world , It’s perfect on its own, But don’t push me away, take me, Please let me in.

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sukunasweetheart · 2 years ago

Text

Where the Petals Cascade - Chapter One

Synopsis & Masterlist

Tags; slowburn, eventual smut, eventual romance, contract marriage, lots of sexual tension, manipulative & womaniser sukuna, potential angst, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of gambling, lots of flirting, fake relationship trope.

Word count; 12k

01. Chapter One.

Malevolent Casino - a brand easily recognised by the public. The rising popularity of this casino company is no secret to the world. And the way they’re topping the casino industry only adds to the wealth held by the man that possesses this establishment that’s tainted with the misery of others. Gambling– everyone loves to shun the topic of it out in the open, but when times are tough and a good rush of adrenaline is needed, guess where people drift towards?

Sukuna put out the light on his cigar as he gazed upon his company’s revenue from last year, printed out on the document he held up in his hand. The incredibly significant numbers put a smile to his face. Earning money off of the pathetic men and women that have crippling addictions - all of them being regulars at his facilities - there is no better source of income for a person like Sukuna than this.

But still…he felt as though he was always missing something.

Though the amount of money being raked in was quite remarkable, there was a lack of exponential growth seen in the company’s annual revenue in the past few years. In some, there had even been a slightly concerning and noticeable decrease.

It had taken Sukuna a little bit of pondering to realise what it was that his company lacked - a good public image. Perhaps it was due to how his business emerged from the darker part of society; a flawless reputation had been something that was the least of Sukuna’s concerns back when he’d began making his way to the top.

He definitely wasn’t about to let his business flicker out like a dying flame in a decade or so. A plan was to be devised.

…And thus, this finalised plan of his brings him to this small, yet refined bar in a more remote and quiet part of the city.

Sitting at the bar counter alone, you bask yourself in the slow music that echoes around, taking the final sip from your almost-empty glass. There are very few customers around in your vicinity, and perhaps only a little bit of muted chattering can be heard in the distance from where you remain.

Just as you’re about to ask the bartender for another, he brings you a drink that you have no memory of ordering.

“The gentleman over there requested this for you,” he voices, noticing your expression of inquiry. You turn to see a man wearing an expensive looking crimson suit, giving you a small smile from across the room. Ominous looking tattoos adorn his face, but they compliment his pink, gelled up hair quite well. You politely smile back at him, and turn to the front again.

Judging from its colour and scent, you can guess what kind of drink it is. You can’t really say that it’s your favourite.

A few minutes after, footsteps resound from behind - and a deep, velvety voice calls out to you.

You look up and meet the man’s eyes.

“Not a fan of whiskey?” he asks, smoothly taking the empty seat beside you.

“Unfortunately not,” you respond, swirling the glass cup’s contents around mindlessly with your hand.

“Apologies for that. What kind of drink do you prefer?”

“...A dry martini would be nice,” you tell him, reflecting his flawless falsified smile.

The pink haired man gives a little nod to the bartender, and he is soon on his way to mix up another drink for you.

“And I’ll help myself with this one, in your stead.”

He reaches out for the glass in your hand, and as he closes the distance between his and your body, the scent of his cologne seems to disperse into the air around you. You watch his fingertips graze your hand ever so slightly, while he takes the whiskey away.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d fallen in love at first sight?” he responds with a humorous undertone.

“You’re quite the fine gentleman. What business would you have with a lady like me tonight?”

Sukuna lets out a boyish chuckle - the only genuine reaction you’ll be getting out of him today.

It was your turn to let out a small laugh.

He faces you with a smirk, and you notice the way he taps his finger against the surface of the counter.

“Certainly not. You don’t seem like the type,” you tell him.

“Oh? And why is that?” He takes a sip from the glass of whiskey.

“You don’t strike me as a very sentimental man.”

“I wouldn’t say that you’re entirely incorrect. But I’m not as emotionless as you may think.”

You meet his eyes once again. It’s incredibly difficult to tell when this man is lying.

“Is that so,” you say, giving him a look of intrigue.

Moments later, your martini finally arrives, which you’re quite happy to see.

“I don’t believe so. The Golden Rose Enterprise has been a vastly successful business, ever since you took over.”

“Malevolent Casino, is it? The name of your company,” you ask as you take the drink into your hand.

“An honour that you know of it. Especially from someone of your calibre,” Sukuna says, unsurprised that you’d caught onto him.

“You flatter me.”

You force out a courteous smile.

“I’ll assume that we’re skipping over the self introductions,” he continues speaking.

“Feel free to contact me when you’re ready. I’ll be happy to take you out for dinner.”

“It’s true that I approached you with an offer in mind that you may find interesting,” Sukuna informs, eyeing your reactions carefully.

“Apologies, but I don’t usually tend to talk about business when I’m around alcohol.”

“That’s fine by me,” he says, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit. What he pulls out is a business card.

He then finishes up the remaining whiskey in his glass in one go and stands up to pay for the both of you. Before he excuses himself however, he comes over to you one last time.

“Business is business, but…”

Sukuna leans down closer to you, his face being inches away from yours.

“I’m not fuckin’ around when I say that I’m interested in you too. I don’t just buy drinks for anybody,” he tells you in a low voice. The sudden tonal shift from being overly formal to the crude language is indeed something you weren’t expecting. An unexplainable shock runs down your spine. Seeing your widened eyes grant him satisfaction, and he smirks as he gazes down at you while still hovering close to your face for a few more seconds.

He moves back away, and puts his hands into his pockets.

“It would be nice to get to know you better. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again,” Sukuna tells you, as he begins to walk away.

“Have a good evening.”

You’re left alone with the drink that he’s bought for you, and the black business card that still holds the scent of his cologne. You chuckle cynically at yourself, looking at the number that's printed on it.

The man sure knows how to linger in someone’s thoughts.

Meanwhile, outside of the bar, Sukuna hums as he walks over to his car. Easy. A bit too easy.

He’s casted out the bait - now all he shall do is wait for you to bite onto it.

A little over a week has passed since then - and frustratingly enough, he has heard nothing from you as of yet. He spins the pen in his hand at his desk, while he rests his chin against his other palm lazily. He’s certain that he had indeed grabbed your attention that night. What could be the reason for this radio silence? Are you shy? Overly cautious? Too busy?

That last possible reason ticks him off a bit. You’re not the only one running a successful business here. You think he’s not busy?

His thoughts are interrupted when a knock comes at his door.

“Come in,” he states firmly, not moving from his current position. Uraume, his secretary, enters the room shortly after. They walk up closer to where his desk is, and stops to stand a few metres away.

“What is it?” he asks them, continuing to fiddle with that pen in his hand.

“I’ve received a report saying there’s been a bit of a dispute between an employee and a regular customer, sir. The customer is giving threats to sue the company, and the employee sustained an injury from an object that was thrown at him. I thought it’d be best if you knew about it.”

“Is he a VIP customer?” Sukuna asks immediately.

“No, sir.”

“Then he’s nothing to worry about. If he takes it to court like an idiot, send one of our lawyers to the case. He’s injured one of the staff - he’s unlikely to win.”

“Yes sir.”

He stops fidgeting with the pen.

“How’d they end up dealing with him?”

“He was escorted outside by the security guards - by force.”

“By force, huh…”

That’s right…

If you won’t look his way, he can just force you to.

“Uraume. You wouldn’t mind if I went on a little break, would you?”

This is your favourite part of the day.

Sitting down at your large desk, signing off a few papers quietly whilst the steam rises from the piping hot cup of tea that rests close to you. Right after finalising these few documents, you’ll get to sip on it and take a little break from your work…Or so you thought. Three sharp knocks resound from the door.

“Yes? Please come in,” you call out.

The person that emerges from the entrance is Nanami, your most competent secretary.

“It seems there’s a significant guest visiting the hotel today, ma’am. The manager requests your presence in greeting this person,” he informs you.

“Significant guest? I don’t recall there being any VIP bookings today,” you respond, standing up from your seat and walking over towards him.

“He booked in moments prior, and also applied for the VIP membership today. Paid on the spot.”

“...Impressive,” you relent, already having an educated guess on who this person may be.

The two of you make your way down to the hotel lobby, where you’re faced with a few slightly panic-stricken employees of yours, all of them making way for you to approach this new “significant guest” of yours.

Sukuna smiles triumphantly as you make your appearance, being blatant about his pride in his presence that requires a personal greeting from the CEO herself.

“Good afternoon, sir. To what do I owe this pleasure?” you say, standing before him.

“There’s no need to be so formal. I just thought it’d be nice to spend my day off somewhere… extravagant.”

He scans his surroundings, pretending to be interested in the interior decoration and furnishing of the lobby.

“I see. Then allow me to accompany you to your VIP suite,” you tell him with a polite smile. Nanami receives the key for Sukuna’s room while you dismiss the employees that are gathered around the front desk - getting them on their way to greet the other guests coming in.

“Nanami - you can head back up and finish your paperwork for the day,” you instruct the man as you take the key from his hand, “I can guide him by myself.”

“Yes ma’am.” He makes a short bow and excuses himself first.

You turn to look at Sukuna, who seems to be pleased with your decision to send everybody else away.

“Well then. Shall we be on our way?”

“Certainly.”

He follows you close behind all the way to a private elevator that is separate from the ones taken by regular guests.

The elevator arrives with a ding, and both of you step inside of it once the doors slide open.

“From my understanding…you’re not here simply for a nice hotel experience, are you?” you ask Sukuna, who is watching the floor numbers on the monitor go down as the two of you wait for its arrival.

“Such keen observation, as usual. You are correct.”

Bullshit, Sukuna thinks.

“I assume then, it’s got something to do with my lack of response to your proposal that other day.”

“So you’re aware. I thought you’d forgotten all about me, with the way I was left waiting.”

“I do apologise. The week has been rather busy for me, but I promise to come by soon enough.”

“Very well,” he replies, turning to you with a pretentious smile.

“In the meantime, it would be nice if I could show you around - especially since you came all the way here,” you suggest to him. “Please let me treat you to some lunch.”

“I look forward to it.”

Upon entering the suite, you make a quick tour of the room for him, ignoring the couple of underhanded compliments he gave every now and then regarding the interior design. A very particular person, he is. Though a large majority of it was done out of spite; he was, truthfully, quite impressed by the quality. There was no luggage that he’d brought with him today, considering how he was only spending one night here, so the room tour ended pretty quickly and you were soon bringing him along to the restaurant, down the building.

As the name of your company suggests - the colour gold seems to linger around at every turn they take, being draped over a lot of the furnishing and architecture. He can’t shake off the feeling that it might be a little excessive. After passing through the hallways, the two of you finally get to the hotel’s dining room. A waiter comes around and formally introduces themselves, before handing over two menu lists after leading you to an appropriate table for two.

“What would you like to eat? We have quite a broad list of options that you can choose from.”

He skims over the various dishes listed on the laminated sheet before making a quick decision on the Filet Mignon, with tomato soup and a bread roll as the appetiser. You decide to have the same thing.

“You seem pretty excited,” you comment, gazing over at him with an amused look on your face.

“Of course. Eating is one of the greatest pleasures of life,” he states with confidence, eyeing the perfectly polished cutlery on the table, “don’t you agree?”

“Undoubtedly. Which is why we only hire the best chefs for our hotel dining.”

“I’m not too difficult to satisfy when it comes to food, so you don’t need to get too nervous,” he tells you. This evokes a genuine chuckle out of you. He really likes eating – is a mental note that you make in your head quietly.

Sukuna eats in a very satisfying way-- he eats tidily, but is not shy to clean everything off the plate. You can’t help but appreciate his table manners. You pour a glass of the tropical fruit juice for him. When questioned ‘Why not wine instead?’ - he’d replied with ‘It’s too bright outside for alcohol,’ which came off as a surprise to you.

What he notices from you, is the way you seem to be closely analysing him. For what purpose? A few ideas do come to mind. But he can tell you’re not doing it with malicious intent. He accepts the juice that you offer him.

“Do you have a lover, Mr. Ryomen?” you ask him, out of the blue. It even takes him aback, a little bit.

“...Would it please you if I said no?” Sukuna shoots back, having his interest piqued from your sudden query.

“It most certainly would,” you say with a small smile. He can’t really read into what you’re trying to do here.

Outwardly, there is little change in his demeanour. Continuing to cut up his meal, he watches as the blood oozes out from the pink and tender meat inside– something that he most appreciates, when it comes to having his steak rare.

“Would it be alright for me to visit you at your room tonight?” you say.

Your abrupt assertiveness is nothing less than…puzzling. But it wouldn’t really hurt to play along with you for now.

“A rather…sudden initiative, on your part. Can I ask why?”

“There’s no need to read too deep into it. I’ve been meticulously planning something for a while now,” you put your cutlery down onto the table, “and I think you might find it appealing.”

It’s not often that Sukuna gets curious about something, or someone.

“I’m happy to listen to your proposal as well, of course. I’m confident it will fit well into mine.”

Sukuna takes his last bite of the steak and also puts his knife and fork down.

“Quite a bold claim to make, considering how I haven’t told you what I want yet…” he wipes his lips down with a serviette and neatly folds it up. “...But sure. I’m eager to hear what you have in mind.”

He just hopes it won’t be a waste of his time.

The two of you continue to make aimless small talk as dessert comes around, before you have to eventually excuse yourself to continue your office duties.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Ryomen. I’ll come by at around 8pm, tonight,” you tell him, standing up from your seat and making a quick glance at your wristwatch.

“Right. I’ll see you then,” he replies, and proceeds to watch as you walk off, each elegant step followed by another.

Sukuna knows - it won’t be easy work manipulating you, from the looks of it. He plans to start off small; offer to work in collaboration with you, only to slowly start making his way further into your prized possession– Golden Rose Enterprise– like a poison that spreads through the veins. Whether it’s through seizing your love and affection, or grasping tightly onto a weakness of yours - he’ll let you decide on that.

For now, all he needs to do is find a way to kill the time before 8pm arrives. Perhaps he should call for an in-room massage later?

By the time you reach your office once again, your pitiful cup of tea has gone terribly cold. You get someone to dispose of it for you.

Ryomen Sukuna… the man seems to be plotting something. You knew from the very moment he reached out, that he was up to no good. Him and his company are both quite infamous - just as your hotels are known for their flawless reputation and transparency, Sukuna’s business is known for their questionable public image. Though there hasn’t been any real trouble that’s arisen as of yet, the rumours that they’re roped into aren’t pleasant at all.

And not to mention the CEO himself…

Eccentric, temperamental, yet also intelligent and charismatic; this is what your research on him tells you so far. A long history of scandals involving various female celebrities, the man has lived through quite a dramatic love life if what the articles say are true.

But, well, you’re not that particularly worried. You finish signing off the remaining papers at your desk.

You’ll put him on a leash, before he puts one onto you. You print off a copy of your well put together, finalised contract, and slide it into an A4 envelope, sealing it shut. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

At ten minutes to eight, you’re ready to head into his room, where you shall reveal your cards to him.

Meanwhile- Sukuna, in his VIP suite- has just finished up his shower and makes an effort to dry his hair with a towel taken from the hanger. He then hums as he feels up the material on the pitch black bathrobe he finds on the sink counter, neatly folded and ready for use. After donning the robe, he emerges from the bathroom at good timing as he hears someone at the door.

It hardly seems surprising to you, when he opens up shamelessly wearing the hotel’s bathrobe that presents his collar bones in a lascivious way, still looking a little moist from his shower. You ignore all of that, and look up at him, who smirks down at you, in all his arrogance.

“Good to see you. Come on in,” he tells you with nonchalance, stepping off to the side to make way for you.

“It’s good to see you making yourself comfortable. How do you like this room?” you ask, sitting down on one of the sofa seats at the coffee table.

The two of you exchange polite smiles. He notices the envelope in your hands.

“Nothing less than what I’d expected, from a five star hotel,” Sukuna says as he takes the seat on the other side of the table.

“That’s great news.”

“Well then. I’ll get straight to the point,” you begin.

“Why don’t we get married, Sukuna?”

You call him by his name, for the first time. And additionally, you see his expression of surprise for the first time as well.

“...What?”

You give him a look that makes it obvious that you were expecting this kind of response.

Sukuna seems to still be processing the idea, hanging his head as he leans back against the sofa seat.

“...I understand that reaction. But I’m not saying this as a joke,” you tell him, holding back a chuckle from seeing his dumbfounded response.

“Have you ever heard of what a marriage of convenience is?” you ask.

“And? On what grounds are you asking someone you met a week ago to marry you? Even if it is out of convenience,” he questions, his real personality beginning to show itself to you.

“You’re like the last puzzle piece for my final picture. There’s a lot that I’d like to gain from you and I’m sure there’s a lot you want from me – isn’t that why you approached me at the bar?”

Sukuna regains his composure and narrows his eyes at you.

“Putting aside your needs for now…how can you be so sure about my demands? Enlighten me.”

“I did have a couple of guesses on what they could’ve been. A company that’s already at the peak of the casino industry. What exactly could you be missing?” you speak confidently.

“And my answer ended up being…reputation. Your numbers are consistent, but they’re not accumulating as much as you’d like them to, are they? Perhaps due to a lack of new members at your casinos. The ones that are already hooked may continue to spend money, but a flawed public image is preventing you from gaining new customers. Even a small shortcoming like that is enough to cause problems in the future.”

Sukuna has a fascinated grin that he covers with the palm of his hand. You’re… interesting.

“Which is presumably why you’d want to work with a company that is known for having a perfect reputation. I’m sure partnering up with me would improve it, albeit a little, just by association.”

“You have me backed into a corner,” Sukuna lies, running a hand through his hair at a languid pace.

“But that still doesn’t explain why we should have to get married does it?” he voices carefully.

"We recently finished remodelling our hotel wedding venues. I want to promote it in a more flamboyant manner. What better way than to get married myself?"

An unlikely couple such as yourself and Sukuna would gain a lot of attention; especially from how he’s already well known by the public. You’ll create the grand facade that he’d ‘changed for the better’.

"You’re able to go as far as marriage for the sake of your business?" Sukuna asks with a raised eyebrow.

You look at him straight in the eyes, mouth set in a straight line, and arms crossed.

"Yes, I am."

Witnessing your sincere determination, Sukuna goes from slightly doubting your plans, to acknowledging that you have ambition worth recognising. You’re not very sane at all.

“Alright. Let’s say that’s fair enough. What else would you want from me beyond that?”

A glint shows up in your eyes, as if you’d been waiting for this question this whole time.

“...As the CEO of a casino company, you’d have a long list of top secret VIP customers.”

Sukuna immediately understands where this is heading towards.

“That I do.”

“Our hotels have been doing perfectly fine with our usual guests, but there’s been a bit of a decline with attaining new VIP members recently. My main goal is to snatch up a few from your list using, hopefully, a bit of your influence.”

He crosses his arms and falls silent for a few moments.

“Objectively speaking, having our companies collaborate would create a rift in Golden Rose’s image. But that’s something I’m willing to sacrifice if everything goes smoothly.”

“Is reputation the only benefit I’m getting from this marriage?”

“Why, of course not. Since it’s not new for hotels to have casinos near, or even inside them, I thought it’d be nice if we made a collaboration. As you would know - next to my main hotel, I own another building. We can renovate, and insert new slot machines as you see fit. Funded entirely by me.”

A spark of intrigue gleams over his eyes. Tempting offer indeed.

“I’ve written up a contract as reasonable as I could make it, outlining the details of our marriage, including a few rules and regulations, and what to do if we end up wanting to divorce, for whatever reason,” you say as you slide over the envelope towards him on the coffee table.

So she meant it when she said she was preoccupied this week… Sukuna thinks to himself. Writing up a contract takes quite a lot of energy, after all.

"I'll look forward to hearing back from you again."

"...Give me some time. I'll consider it," he finally tells you, leaning back and crossing his legs after much contemplation.

"Wonderful." You stand up from your seat and look down at him with a smile.

When you're a few steps to getting to the door, Sukuna speaks up again from behind you.

"Aw, leaving so soon? I wouldn't mind if you stayed the night here with me," he teases - with a smirk that you can hear in his voice.

"...Thank you for the offer, but I'll have to decline. Have a good night."

He hears you leave, with the sound of the door opening and closing.

“Tch. What a prude way of saying no.”

Aren’t you a little too cold for someone who aims to be his lawful wife?

No matter - he’ll find one way or another to get under that awfully polite attitude of yours.

The contract is actually quite reasonable and fair for both parties, and Sukuna hates to admit so. You worked on this alone? Or maybe you had that stuck up of a secretary helping you behind the scenes.

Either way, upon having his own lawyer review it for him after carefully reading through it himself, he has decided that he will take you up on this offer - and participate in this marriage of convenience.

It makes things easier for him, after all. This will skip him a lot of steps, and you’ll be closer to his reach, making it simpler to play around with you as he pleases. Not to mention; the contract states that if the wedding doesn’t happen, all negotiations are off the table. Clever of you to make it an ‘all in or nothing’ type of agreement.

Today’s the day where he’d already arranged another meeting with you at one of his private restaurants, where he anticipates seeing your pretty face again, since it’s been a little over a week.

Uraume opens the car door for him, and he steps outside without a hitch.

He’s a little elated to find you already sitting inside, gazing out the window as you’re at the fancily decorated table. You’re dressed in a quite eloquent outfit, perfect for a day like this, where the petals are carried away from cherry blossom trees, even by the gentlest of breezes.

“How impolite of me to keep a lady waiting,” Sukuna says as he approaches you, “apologies for the late arrival.”

“Not at all. It’s a habit of mine to show up at least ten minutes before any appointment. You’re actually on time,” you tell him, looking at the watch on your wrist.

“...Quite the courteous habit to have.”

Sukuna’s private restaurant specialises in Japanese cuisine, which explained the various platters of sushi and sashimi that were soon getting placed onto the table, shortly after his arrival. He lets you take the first mouthful, and appears to be awaiting your opinion on the taste.

“This…is really good. I can tell the fish is fresh, and there’s a perfect amount of vinegar in the rice,” you comment, your chopsticks going for another one.

“I’m glad it’s to your taste. Nothing but the best for my fiancé.”

The term he uses catches you a little off guard, but you manage to laugh it off. Sukuna is very satisfied by the millisecond of a pause in your reaction. Perhaps you should’ve added the rule of no unnecessary flirting with the other party into your contract?

After the hearty meal, the table is cleared, and the contract is taken out and placed upon it, resting between the two of you.

“We’ve both come here to sign this, am I correct?” you reconfirm, pulling out a pen of yours, ready to draw up your signature.

“Indeed. We’ve reviewed it multiple times back and forth between us, I doubt there’s anything more to worry about.”

You pass it on over to him, after signing it swiftly. He does the same.

The both of you are now officially bound together, by law.

There’s a beautiful shade of pink outside that grasps your attention, every now and then. You’d forgotten the current season was spring – and like in every other year, the cherry blossoms are always there to remind you. This is a nice restaurant indeed.

“I hope you have the time to enjoy some tea with me, Y/N,” Sukuna says as he puts his pen away. It feels nice to hear someone call you by your name like that.

“Fortunately, I do have a few minutes to spare.”

“Enjoying the outside view?” he asks - placing his focus on you, rather than the window.

“Yes, actually. This view is…very lovely.”

You say it in a soft spoken voice, and your eyes mellow out in a way he doesn’t expect when you look out the window once again. He takes a mental note to bring you here a second time, once the next spring season arrives.

This tea time is spent very delightfully (to your surprise), for maybe the next ten minutes before the both of you need to eventually leave due to your busy schedules. Once standing up, you offer your hand to the man before you, with a smile. He takes your hand, that is so dainty and soft compared to his, and shakes it.

“Your hair is the same colour as those petals,” you say without thinking.

“I do get that a lot. I’d argue that I’ll always look better than any of those trees, however.”

“That’s some impressive confidence you have,” you retort, with a chuckle.

As you’re walking out of the restaurant alongside him, you remember something you’d forgotten to mention to him.

“The wedding will be in a month’s time. We’ll see each other a couple of times before then,” you state, looking up at him in the eyes.

“Excellent. Feel free to contact me whenever.”

“I actually prefer your normal attitude, rather than the one you’re using around me all the time,” you tell him truthfully.

“You mean my flirtatious advances on you?”

“No, you already do that now. I mean when you use your crude language, and speak in shorter sentences.”

You nonchalantly walk out of the door that he’s still holding open for you.

“Oh? ...You’re into that shit? Very unexpected, coming from someone like you,” he retorts with a smirk as he holds the door open for you.

“Yes, that’s much better. I’m happy to see that my future husband is the obedient type.”

Obedient–

He catches you giving one last glance at him, before getting inside of your car, with a cheeky smile on your face. Sukuna is stunned in an amused way, having been called obedient for the first time in his life. It should be making him angry, but he’s grinning instead. The urge to get back at you rises within him like wildfire.

This whole marriage thing with you is bound to be one hell of a ride.

“How are the wedding preparations going?” he asks on the phone.

The question comes while you’re inspecting the various invitation designs before you. You pick one of them up and flip to the other side.

“Very smoothly. You won’t have to lift a finger, as we promised.”

“That’s good to hear. It’s a shame, really. Would’ve liked to help pick out a wedding dress for you,” he says humourously.

“Certainly not. I imagine you’d pick an atrocious dress,” you tell him, listening to him chuckle.

“Not possible. All wedding dresses look the same anyway,” Sukuna dismisses.

You furrow your brows a little at his ignorance. Of course he’s the type to say that.

“I’ll have to disagree. But pushing that aside for now,” you say, putting down the sample invitation card, “have you prepared the list of guests you’d like to invite for the ceremony?”

“I have. I’ll get Uraume to send the list to you soon.”

“Thank you. Well then, I wish you a good afternoon.”

You end the call sharply.

Mildly irritated as he sits at the back of his car, Sukuna removes his phone from his ear and looks down at the screen with a raised eyebrow. He wishes you wouldn’t cut calls so abruptly like that. What is wrong with you?

“Pretentious,” he mutters, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He looks out his window, expressionlessly.

Amongst the number of people Sukuna plans to invite to the wedding, his mother and father aren’t a part of the list. But, surprisingly so, it’s the same for you too. They’re excluding the whole ‘walking the bride down the aisle’ as a result. He doesn’t care enough to ask you what happened to them – it’s none of his business, after all. It’s just a little strange to think about how both the bride and the groom will have absent seats for parents.

The car suddenly feels a little stuffy for him. He rolls the window down a little bit, letting the outside breeze swirl inside, carrying the scent of the city.

And as for you – after having completed a large portion of the work needed to be done for the wedding, you’re now happily sitting at home with a glass of wine in your hand. In maybe around two weeks’ time, you’ll be a legally married woman. It feels a little surreal to think about.

Looking over at the wedding invitation card that has his and your name printed over it, your mind brings up the image of your parents. Oh, how they would’ve never approved of a man like him. You can’t help but let out a small, dry laugh.

…It’s all for the sake of the business. You promised them to do well.

And you shall execute it– flawlessly.

Little inklings of dating rumours have already dispersed amongst the employees at both Malevolent Casino and Golden Rose Enterprise, having grown all the way back from the moment when Sukuna applied for the expensive VIP membership all too suddenly. That, and alongside the frequent ins and outs both you and Sukuna have been doing at each others’ offices have raised the suspicions of many. Countless friends and acquaintances have reached out, asking if it’s actually true. And to each one of them, you replied with a ‘yes’.

This is a perfect chain of events leading up to the marriage announcement. For someone who has quite a bit of media attention on him already due to past affairs, he is indeed the ideal candidate for the promotion of the hotel’s wedding services, as he’s bound to draw the gaze of a wider audience.

It’s rather amusing how many of them warned you, and discouraged your ‘relationship’ with Sukuna.

“He’s not like that at all. He treats me very well,” you responded to them, the best you could.

And then, you sent out the wedding invitations, not long after.

You become terribly busy in the final week before the ceremony. Giving instructions to employees during the setup process of the venue, arranging the rings, selecting the perfect dress and suit, establishing a script for the vows, and organising the food for the event. Not to mention, there needs to be professional photographers present to capture everything beautifully, so the photos can be uploaded to the hotel website.

For the honeymoon – you reckoned it’d be best to go somewhere overseas, even if for only a few days – in order to prevent speculations that the two of you may not actually be in love. When asked if there was a particular country he wanted to go to for the honeymoon, Sukuna replied with “I couldn’t care less where we go.”

So you took it upon yourself to select somewhere most convenient for you.

Ironically enough, you barely met the man during this final week, as you were too preoccupied with running around and making sure everything was perfect.

And now, here you are, dolled up in a stunning wedding gown, waiting for Sukuna to finish getting dressed up. You can hear the guests buzzing outside, anticipating the appearance of the bride and groom.

A whistle resounds in front of you. Looking up, you see him in the polished suit that you had picked out for him. Alongside that, his appropriately slicked back hair makes him look like quite the handsome gentleman.

“You look ravishing, my dear wife,” he comments, giving a smug, lopsided grin.

“Not your wife quite yet. We’re yet to be officiated,” you respond back with a smile.

“No need to mind the details. We’re about to be, anyway.”

He offers up his arm, and you’re quick to put your hand around it.

The two of you stand underneath an opulent arch, decorated with countless delicate roses. As the officiant makes his speech, you and Sukuna face each other hand in hand, exchanging gazes that contain nothing but false affection.

“The Bride and Groom shall now make their vows.”

The crowd watches intently, falling under a noticeable hush.

“On this joyous day, I, Ryomen Sukuna, will take you as my one and only – my lawfully wedded wife,” his voice booms brilliantly around this almost ethereal-looking wedding venue.

“I vow to bring forth happiness and fulfilment to our most tender, yet unshakable connection we share – and offer up my whole heart to you – as I shall be the valiant protector of our betrothal.”

He executes the speech with great accuracy and enthusiasm, which you are fairly impressed by. You almost let out a giggle from it, knowing that he is most undoubtedly rolling his eyes internally at the words that had just come out from his mouth.

“And I, (Y/N) (L/N), take you as my one and only – my lawfully wedded husband,” you mirror, letting your voice ring out just as he had let his.

“I vow to wholeheartedly embrace and value you as my other half, devoting myself to our most cherished relationship – where I shall tend to the light that our love emits, and treasure it endlessly.”

All of these fancy words - if only everyone knew that they were nothing but empty promises. Nevertheless, finally being able to say them aloud relieves a great weight from your shoulders. It’s almost over.

“You may now seal those promises with a kiss.”

Your eyes widen for a moment.

…You’d forgotten all about the very highlight of all wedding ceremonies. The kiss.

Looking to Sukuna with slight uncertainty, you wonder if you should be the one to initiate it–

He flashes you a gentle smirk. You’d overlooked this part, hadn’t you? He seems to ask.

He pulls you closer to him by snaking his arm around your waist without hesitation, and firmly presses his lips against yours. Having your worries been alleviated, you close your eyes during the kiss. The crowd cheers and a thunderous clap takes over the air around you.

The tips of your tongues brush up against each other, before he pulls away at the appropriate timing, leaving behind a very miniscule and delicate sense of disappointment from having it end so quickly.

The two of you make your way down the steps and walk through the aisle for the grand exit - stepping on the extravagant white carpet that leads to the outside world. Beautiful pink petals are showered down from the ceiling at this perfect timing - and the crowd continues their cheers tirelessly. From the corner of your eye, you inspect that the photographers are doing their jobs in a satisfactory manner.

From the way you and Sukuna bring up your smiles, it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that the two of you are excellent actors.

The path leads all the way to the sleek limousine that awaits the new couple.

You’re mildly surprised to see that it’s raining outside. The weather forecast this morning hadn’t said anything about rain this afternoon. Different hues of grey adorn the sky – the clouds are seemingly vehement on concealing its true colour today. As each of your respective secretaries open up a large umbrella to shelter the two of you, you wonder in dismay. Is this supposed to be some kind of omen?

Getting inside the vehicle, you confirm that the driver is Ijichi, and feel the tension from your body disappear in an instant, now being able to settle down a little more naturally.

“My face hurts from all that smiling,” Sukuna grunts beside you.

“I can say the same,” you agree, caressing your own cheek with your hand.

The limousine will drop by both of your homes, where each of you will get changed into more comfortable clothing before taking off for the airport. Luggage had already been packed prior to the wedding. You’re exhausted, and you could say that you’re pretty envious of Sukuna’s relaxed state that you see once you come back down after changing.

“You must be tired,” he suddenly comments, eyeing you up once you’ve seated yourself comfortably, putting your seatbelt on.

“What makes you say that?” you ask him.

He reaches his hand out to your head, where he gingerly takes something up. When he opens his palm for you to see it, you realise that it’s a petal from the wedding.

“Forgot to check the mirror?” Sukuna asks rhetorically with a cocky undertone.

You let out something like a helpless laugh.

“Thank you for picking up on it.”

The ride to the airport is entirely silent, with you and Sukuna quietly staring out into the windows, watching the scenery outside. As much as you would’ve liked to fall asleep to the softly orchestrated patter of rain against the car’s exterior…you just couldn’t seem to.

After arriving at the airport, you thank Ijichi for his extra service, and promise that his bonus will be sent to his account very shortly. Then, the two of you are guided to the boarding entrance, where you’re seated in the elite economy class.

The plane is headed for Paris, France. A little cliche and overdone, but it’s a place you’d been to most frequently, as your parents had taken you there often for business purposes. The ride goes without any issues, as Sukuna had let out the occasional yawn beside you, before slipping on a silk eye mask and going for a nap. He managed to wake himself up a little before the plane landed.

Upon your arrival at the grand hotel in the bustling city of Paris, the two of you are booked into the same room but with separate bedrooms. The luggage is handled carefully, as the bellman guides both of you to the room.

“I was thinking we could use this opportunity,” he says as he walks close beside you, “to spend the night like how all newlyweds do.”

The fatigue has worn your usual polite attitude off, and you have to roll your eyes at him.

He thoroughly enjoys getting under your skin.

“Quite the charming suggestion. Too bad that I have no energy for that right now.”

“Are you implying that you might in the future?”

“...Think of it as you will, Sukuna.”

The moment you enter, you drag your feet over to your own room.

“I’m going to sleep straight away. Feel free to spend the day how you wish,” you tell him, before going inside and closing the door behind you.

Sukuna has a little bit more energy to burn off, since he took a long nap on the plane – so he decides to step out and enjoy the outside city while he’s here.

It’s not as if it’s his first time in Paris - he’d done a lot of travelling back in his younger days, when he used to be absolutely drunk on the amount of money he was making. He already knows which restaurants and shops are to his taste, and since it’s been a while, he decides he’ll pass some time by revisiting those same places.

He very much enjoys his independent shopping – particularly that feeling of satisfaction at the end, when he’s gained a handful of carefully selected goods. The first place he drops by is a luxurious shoe store, where he picks the pairs that fancy him most, and an employee is immediately ready to come down and help him with fitting them on.

By the end of his little trip, Sukuna’s accompanying assistant has his arms full with various shopping bags, filled with new suits, shoes, expensive cologne… let’s just say that he’s very keen about maintaining his appearance for self satisfaction. And each item was carefully chosen from the designer brands that Sukuna favours greatly.

His bags are dropped off to his room by that same assistant. Before he goes back, Sukuna heads off to the hotel’s bar, where he plans to spend some quiet time with a drink to finish off the day.

This hotel’s well established bar is quite suited to his liking, he thinks, as skims his surroundings, languidly making his way through the dimly lit, atmospheric area.

What he orders tonight at the bar counter is a boulevardier cocktail – being in the mood to have something bittersweet on his taste buds. He’s barely had a chance to take a sip of the drink, when someone all too abruptly claims the empty seat to his right.

“I’ll have a dry martini, please.”

The phrase makes Sukuna whip his head to the side, being mildly pleased to think that it might be the person who he assumes it is.

…He finds that it’s a woman he doesn’t know of at all, staring back at him with a sly smile. He doesn’t visibly show any disappointment, but he does face the front again, before taking a gulp out of the crimson-coloured liquid that resembles the hue of his eyes.

“What, am I not pretty enough for you?” the girl asks in a playful manner.

“...I wouldn’t say that. You’re not too bad to look at,” Sukuna responds honestly.

He entertains her for a little while, doing the bare minimum to keep up with the conversation. She seems so eager to escalate things with him, and he considers it, seeing as he’s got nothing better to do. The contract does state that such relations are permitted for both parties, so long as it’s outside of the media’s attention.

There’s lots of casual touching going on, whether it’s brushing her hand over his, or placing them onto his shoulder or arm, being very blatant in the way she flirts.

The woman hovers inches away from his face, and he stares down at her while he makes some last minute decisions. His gaze falls down to her lips.

“Well? What do you say?” she urges him for an answer, leaning closer to him.

“We could head up to my room and…keep each other some company.”

Just as she thinks she’s gotten him on board, Sukuna grabs her face and pushes her away, deeming that it’s too bothersome for all of that tonight. She pouts right after he lets go of her.

“And I thought we were on the same page… can I ask why?”

He downs the rest of his drink in one go before showing the girl the ring on his left hand.

“At least pay for my drink!” she exclaims as a last resort.

“I’ll be taking my leave, then.”

“Wha- are you going already?!” she questions, thoroughly disappointed. He ignores it, and is already taking steps towards the exit.

With a hand in his pocket, he stops in his tracks, and turns slightly to the side to give her one final glance.

“Too bad. I don’t buy drinks for just anyone.”

Sukuna then heads back up to his room, wondering if you’ll be awake by the time he arrives.

When he’s back inside however, you seem to still be in your deep slumber, seeing as there’s no sign of life around the lounge and no sounds coming from your room. Even for someone as capable as you, managing to prepare everything for that extravagant wedding must’ve been arduous work. He’s in no place to feel irritated at you. It impresses him – how you arranged everything within a limited amount of time, while also fulfilling your duties as a CEO.

Sukuna takes his jacket off and then begins to loosen his tie. After a day of shopping, nothing is better than taking a hot bath to relax the muscles. He can make use of that built in jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, and freshen himself up.

It doesn’t take long for the steam to begin rising from the water as the tub slowly fills up, bubbling up at the sides. He makes himself comfortable towards the edge of the tub, where he lets out a sigh and leans back - the water stopping at the comfortable level, being his chest. He slicks his moistened hair back, and something gets caught in his fingers as he does so.

Looking down at his hand, he sees that it’s a small, pink petal. It must’ve blended in well in his hair from the wedding, this entire time. Thinking of you, a sinister smirk makes its way upon his features.

How reassuring it is, to have a wife so capable. You’ll certainly be a useful asset for him to utilise in the future.

Perhaps a little difficult to crack open, but that’ll only make the end result all the more rewarding.

In the following morning, Sukuna wakes up to some noises outside of his room, and he figures that it’s you walking about after sleeping for almost a whole day, if that’s even possible. Doing a great yawn, he does a quick self-check in the mirror, and proceeds to step out of his room.

You’re latching a watch onto your wrist when the door to Sukuna’s room opens up, revealing the man with his hair down, wearing some loose, comfortable clothing. Having woken up very early, you had taken the time to get dressed after that well-deserved sleep you had.

“Good morning,” you tell him, while checking the tightness of the watch on your wrist.

Damn right he is. After sleeping for a day straight, you’re gonna ignore him again and go about your own business?

“Going somewhere?” he asks curtly, without greeting you back.

“Yes, in about two hours or so,” you say, wondering why he seems mildly irritated towards you today.

“I’m going to a piano concert. I doubt you’ll be interested, but you're welcome to join me.”

A piano concert? Shit sounds boring as hell. Of course you’d be interested in that.

Being invited under these premises… like being offered leftovers… he can’t help but feel a little displeased.

“You have a spare ticket?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I always buy the seats at either side of mine. I’d rather not sit next to strangers.”

“I’ll go. I have nothing better to do around here anyway,” Sukuna says, with a voice that sounds like he’s doing you a big favour. Maybe he’ll take this chance to learn a thing or two more about you.

“Wonderful. I’ve also ordered room service for us, so we can have breakfast together if you’d like?”

That seems to have appeased him a bit, which forms a little smile on your face.

Perhaps around an hour and a half later, the two of you leave the hotel to head over to the auditorium, which requires only a short walk.

Sukuna trails behind you as you stride over towards your seats, where you’re able to make yourself comfortable. From this location in the auditorium, you catch sight of people clambering around towards their seats below. There’s still a bit of time left before the show begins.

He falls quiet for a few seconds, which makes you give him a discreet little glance.

“I’m surprised you actually came all the way out here with me,” you tell him, in order to strike up some sort of conversation.

“I figured that even a dull piano recital would be better than being stuck in my room all day,” Sukuna responds with nonchalance, crossing his legs.

“You wouldn’t know that it’s dull yet, would you? It hasn’t even started yet.”

“I guess you’re correct. You did prove me wrong before, after all.”

You make a quizzical expression at him, and a sly smirk creeps up onto his features.

“Your wedding dress. It was unique. Beautiful, even,” he admits.

A moment of realisation later, you let out a small chuckle.

He’s a little disappointed by that response. He’d like to catch you looking all flustered, one of these days.

“I’m glad you were able to learn something from our wedding,” you tell him.

“And of course,” he continues, “the one wearing it, even more so.”

“Why, thank you very much. You looked quite stunning as well. I knew that suit would compliment you nicely.”

The conversation is cut off when the concert begins with the lights dimming, as a pianist makes their way onto the large stage.

More than the music itself, Sukuna was finding that his attention was garnering towards your reactions more. You seem to be enjoying yourself.

…Though it wasn’t long before he was beginning to zone out a little, being easily disengaged with the concert, as he isn’t exactly one for piano music.

By the end of the show, you see that he is very eager to leave the auditorium. You can’t help the childish way the corners of your lips rise in response. He’s quite easy to read, at least when it comes to these smaller moments.

“Why don’t you get up on stage yourself next time? That’d be something more worthwhile to watch,” he says, bringing an image of you sitting before the large instrument up in his mind.

“You must be an avid fan of the piano,” Sukuna says with a grunt, as they leave the bustling area.

“Only casually, every now and then. Out of everything I was required to learn as a child, I liked the piano the most.”

“I’m flattered that you think so. But I prefer listening over playing it myself.”

Your words erase the image out of his mind.

The rest of the “honeymoon” goes by without much happening between the two of you, only quietly sharing meals together or the occasional drinking session; though neither of you were able to get drunk - due to being a tad too cautious around each other.

Your first day back at the office felt quite refreshing.

Everyone was busy, and the hotel’s wedding venues especially; as you had predicted, there was an overflow of requests coming in from couples who had seen the photos of your marriage on the website. They did come out very beautifully - almost like something out of a scene in a film. It was worth paying those photographers the good money.

At your desk, you scroll through the various article titles that have been published on several gossip sites – featuring the topic of your wedding mainly focusing on Sukuna.

[Sukuna, a CEO notorious for breaking the hearts of many actresses, gets married?]

[CEO of Malevolent Casino settles down for owner of Golden Rose Enterprise. A match made in heaven?]

[A womaniser reformed, CEO of Malevolent Casino enters wedlock!]

Oh, how you laughed until your stomach hurt. You can imagine the kind of face he’d make if he read any of these titles. The overwhelming attention is even better than you had expected. You even have a few interview requests from some of these gossip magazines. Doing a few of them wouldn’t hurt, would it?

The two of you have even set up a shared home, put together by Sukuna himself, just in case there comes a moment when you need it. Though you weren’t very happy about the design choices he’d made, when furnishing the place. For now, an agreement was made that living under the same roof together was not necessary.

Later in the day, you receive a call from the man himself.

“So, are you enjoying the fruits of our labour?” he asks as soon as you pick up.

“Yes, it truly is satisfying. Getting married at our venues seems to have become a little trend now,” you tell him proudly.

“Good for you. I hope you’re remembering your part of the deal, however,” he states with warning, “I’m yet to see any of those fruits growing on my end.”

You chuckle a little at his words.

“Of course I do. I have something in mind that will help with that,” you reassure him.

“But before we go into any detail for it…” you say, as you read over the email for an interview request on your computer screen, “let’s do one interview, about our marriage.”

You smile as you hear Sukuna make a little noise of grimace from his end.

“This better be worth doing,” Sukuna mutters, as he walks alongside you in the corridor, towards where the interview will take place.

“I wouldn’t suggest doing anything that’s a waste of time,” you tell him with confidence.

His expression of indignance doesn’t change.

“After all, it’s a good opportunity to have this attention on us last a little longer,” you add on.

“I already figured. Aren’t you mooching off of my image a bit too much?” he narrows his eyes at you.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I was thinking we could start the planning for that collaboration of ours soon. Wouldn’t that be to your liking?”

That seems to quell his discontent, for now. You open the door at the end of the corridor.

“The two of you have stirred the media up quite a bit through your sudden marriage! Please tell us your story on how you first met each other.”

The interviewer speaks to you and Sukuna with a bright smile, gesturing politely towards the vague direction between you both. Of course, you had prepared a little bit of a script for both yourself and him, but he’d brushed it off, saying that he was able to wing something like this easily.

“Well, our first meeting was-”

“It’s rather cliche, but we met at a bar,” he cuts you off abruptly. It catches you off-guard. You only hope that he won’t say anything unnecessary.

“I was the one that approached her, after catching her gaze from across where she sat,” he continues, crossing his legs. The excited interviewer types away on her laptop, recording his words.

“My! That does sound romantic. Please do give us more details.”

Sukuna does an excellent job at mixing the truth with his lies, and surprisingly enough, you’re the one sitting in silence as he does most of the talking while you act as backup to his story. It’s even better than the script you’d made up originally. He’s clearly picked up the skill to smoothly manipulate his stories.

“Our last question in the interview is directed towards the both of you. What compelled the two of you to choose each other for marriage? What do you love most about one another?”

A question that wasn’t on the damn script. They always love to sneak a few extras in like this. And technically that was two questions, not one. Sukuna is about to express his displeasure towards the interviewer, but you speak up before he does.

“I appreciated his very forward way of approaching me. How he’s difficult to read, granting him a more mysterious appeal. Arguably arrogant at times, but rightfully so, considering how clever and charming he is. For one second I was only a little intrigued by him, but then in the other…he’d suddenly become the apple of my eye.”

How do you say all of that without batting an eyelash? Part of him wonders if you perhaps meant any of it, even just a little.

“That is wonderful! I understand why you’d be infatuated. What about you, Mr. Ryomen? Did you also feel equally as captivated?”

He certainly won’t lose to you.

“...But of course. Her strong sense of independence. How competent she is. She mentioned that I’m difficult to read - but that hardly seems to be the case. She reads me like a book, and I find that so interesting,” Sukuna looks at you with a smirk and naturally places his hand over yours, squeezing lightly.

“It had been a while since I’d chased after someone rather than be chased – but that only made our relationship all the more sweeter.”

You’re impressed with how willingly he shot back at you, with his impromptu speech. The interviewer, oblivious, swoons as the two of you exchange smiles.

“There were nothing but satisfying answers during this session. Thank you so much for your participation!”

The interview is wrapped up nicely, and the two of you walk out after shaking hands with her.

Your insincere wordings are sickeningly sweet, like caramel, clinging onto him with its viscous texture.

“The apple of your eye, huh?” he goads, eyeing your response.

“Yes, my dear husband. The apple of my eye,” you repeat, with a relaxed demeanor.

“Very endearing,” he says – with venom in his tone.

A car awaits outside for the two of you, its engine already on and ready to drive off.

“While we’re here, perhaps we should talk about the event I’ve set up for us,” you tell him, fastening your seatbelt.

Sukuna opens his eyes instantaneously. He’s going to do… what?

“Go on, I’m listening,” he says, crossing his arms and resting his head back with his eyes closed.

“We’re going to do some volunteer work at an aged care facility,” you say bluntly, paying no mind to his dismissive posture.

Judging from that reaction, apparently not.

“Are you fucking around with me?”

“No? Actually, I was half expecting that you would’ve seen this coming.”

“This is still only phase one – improving your reputation. I’m even organising a few journalists to publish an article for us,” you tell him unapologetically.

He looks comically displeased.

“There’s a lot of guilt that follows when it comes to a hobby like gambling. It’s already considered a taboo, but with a company holding an unfavourable image like yours, newcomers are hesitant. Our partnership isn’t enough to put all of that behind,” you explain.

“And if I said no?”

“This isn’t for me more than it is for you.”

“You must be joking. How is taking care of some old fossils beneficial to me?”

“Let’s just say that it’s a ploy,” you start.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, despite knowing that you’re correct on that.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Addicts are constantly looking for excuses to be addicted. What’ll happen if they believe you made this company for a good cause?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he scoffs, returning to his former attitude. “And I’m guessing you expect me to throw in a donation there too.”

Sukuna grunts with annoyance.

His aloofness resembles the behaviour of an unhappy child – but you don’t dare tell him that aloud.

“It’ll only be a few hours of work. Get a couple of good photos in and we’ll be done,” you say, sympathetically.

“How reassuring.” He doesn’t bother to look your way again.

Sukuna is used to doing things forcefully. If there’s something that he wants, he’ll pluck it out of the hands of another, regardless of if it’ll affect that person or not. If there’s a crowd of people around him, he’ll push and shove them out of his way, not caring whether someone gets trampled or not. And if there’s anyone that inconveniences him… he doesn’t hesitate to kick them down, until they’re crying on their knees for forgiveness.

And yet…. And yet…

Here he is, standing behind a table, wearing a tacky apron over his dashing suit as he dishes out soup for an old geezer, using a ladle. There’s a smile on his face, but a vein popping out on his forehead. The littlest inconvenience could make him lash out at somebody here.

He pours soup into the tray for the next elderly woman that is in line.

He wordlessly gives her a third scoop.

“More please,” she asks of him.

“Alright, sure,” he tells her, doing his best to sound friendly. Another scoop.

“Again,” she says.

“I want more!”

Her tray is already filled to the brim with soup, any more and she’ll end up spilling everything on her way to a table.

Sukuna is about to lose it.

She complacently walks off to find a seat somewhere, holding her tray.

“Ma’am, if you get any more, you’ll end up spilling it over. You can always come back for seconds. Promise we’ll still be here,” you butt in, before he blows over a fuse.

“Oh… alright then.”

You can barely contain the sigh that nearly spills out of your lungs.

“If you explain it to them clearly, they usually listen,” you tell him with a low voice, after she’s gone.

“Too bad I don’t wanna explain shit,” he very graciously responds.

Shortly after, you and Sukuna get your own portions of the same meals given to the elderly for lunch.

He kisses his teeth loudly and chucks his spoon down onto his tray, before getting up abruptly.

“Everything is lukewarm,” he comments, frowning.

“Can’t be helped. It’s a safety precaution, in case they burn themselves.”

You clearly note how the direction he heads towards is not where the restrooms are.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom,” he lies without hesitation.

Fuck this whole event. Fuck this place. He considers leaving for a moment, but is quick to discard that idea, knowing he’ll hear no end of it from you afterwards. Only a few more hours to go, anyway. He steps outside, taking a quick scan of the area to make sure nobody is around before pulling a cigarette and lighter out from his pocket.

Lodging it between his lips, he uses his lighter against the end, but it seems to fail at producing any flames, adding on to his frustration.

He ignores you, because at this point, he knows nothing nice will come out of his mouth if he starts talking now. Why isn’t this goddamn thing working?

“Useless piece of shit,” he mutters, continuing his frantic attempts at the sparkwheel.

“Smoking is prohibited in this area,” a voice that he knows all too well comes from behind.

You stand beside him and hold something up with your hand. He sees that it’s a lighter.

He lights his cigarette, returns your lighter and then takes a big puff. He looks more noticeably relaxed.

“...You smoke?” he asks, taking it from your hand.

“Used to,” you tell him, crossing your arms.

“Just this once. Make it quick,” you tell him, looking around for people.

He lets out a short, curt hmph and blows another gust of smoke out.

“So what did you follow me all the way out here for? To babysit me?” Sukuna asks, still being quite moody about the situation.

“Looks like you already know. I thought it’d be best to keep an eye on you.”

He was going to shoot back with another snarky response, but a couple of voices could be heard coming from somewhere nearby. Before he can say a word on it, you’re suddenly grabbing his hand and dragging him away, elsewhere. The two of you end up in the area behind the building.

“Feel better now?” you say.

“Barely. Let’s finish this and go home already,” he grunts, dropping the cigarette butt onto the ground and putting it out with his foot.

“You should probably pick that up.”

All because of that… he thinks. Sukuna watches as you peer around the place, seeing if anyone is around again. A smirk slowly crawls up onto his face.

“Why the hell did we need to run? We could’ve just gone back in,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“If they approached us, they would’ve smelled the smoke. You still reek of tobacco.”

“You sure that’s the only reason? Dragging me all the way here. By the hand, not to mention.”

He corners you against the wall behind you, trapping you between his arms.

“Who knows, I might even behave a little more if you help me relieve some stress,” he continues, looking down at you with sultry eyes. You don’t look flustered in the least, which kind of irks him.

To his confusion, you grab something out of your pocket. It’s packaged in plastic, and you make quick work to unwrap it.

His eyes then widen, when you grab his face and slip something inside his mouth, pushing it past his lips. Swiping his tongue over it, he realises it’s a mint lolly.

“Stop joking around, and chew on this instead. Maybe that’ll pipe you down,” you tell him, as you slip out from his trap by ducking underneath his arms. “And it’ll help get rid of the smell, while it’s at it.”

“Come. We’re going back inside.”

His eyes follow you as you begin walking back already without him. He even considers spitting this lolly down to the ground. But he doesn’t.

Sukuna was very dismayed once they had gotten back. They found that lunch break was over and there were dishes to be done. By them.

He gnaws on the lolly as he shoves the last tray into the dishwasher. It gets shut, and with the press of a button, it begins its work. Turning around, he sees you at the sink, manually washing some dishes up, because there’s only so much that a dishwasher can contain.

“Look at you, doing such a good job. You should do this professionally,” he comments, coming up from behind. He really has nothing serious to say today.

Your flat reply kills his playful banter immediately, and he can’t help but narrow his eyes as the last of the lolly melts away in his mouth. He aggressively puts on some rubber gloves and pushes you aside at the sink.

“Mind lending a hand?” you ask him, without looking back.

“I don’t know if I feel like helping.”

“Alright - don’t, then.”

There’s a smile that blooms on your face when you look at him in this moment, and it’s genuine, which is kind of rare, coming from you. Your reaction makes the dishes worth doing for just a bit, at the very least. He thinks.

“We’ll take years to get back home at your pace. Not doing it for you, so don’t misunderstand.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

Not long later, someone comes along inside – the same old lady that had asked for extra soup from Sukuna earlier on. He’s never been more appalled to see someone again.

“You missed this one!” she says, holding up a dirty spoon.

She approaches slowly, but somehow misses a step and stumbles a little, causing the spoon to smear over Sukuna’s suit, just below the shoulder area.

“Oh… dearie me. My legs don’t work the way they used to,” the woman mutters, looking down at her limbs. After dropping the spoon off in the sink, she pats him on the back.

“Sorry, young man,” she says, before trudging away again.

The two of you stand in silence, with Sukuna having a darkened expression on his face.

Your stifled laughter breaks it, and he whips around to see you enjoying this shitty situation.

“That hag…” he mutters, popping out a vein again on his forehead.

He hears another chuckle from you.

He’s left alone with his simmering anger for a few moments, until you come back holding a packet of wet wipes. Adjusting his position by grabbing his shoulders, you begin wiping away the…remnants of what was on the spoon from his clothes. He grimaces with disgust.

“Quit laughing! Fuck’s sake, I’m gonna leave-”

“Wait here,” you cut him off, degloving yourself.

“Alright then, as you wish.”

“You wore a dark colour today, so it should be fine.”

“Fine? Nothing will be fine until I get back at that old witch.”

“Don’t be like that to a frail old woman. I’ll buy you a new suit if it bothers you so much.”

“...Forget it. I can buy my own suits without your help,” he grumbles, getting back to the dishes.

After wrapping up the day with the remaining formalities, you and Sukuna exit the facility, into the car park. You crack another smile when he immediately takes his jacket off and chucks it at Uraume, who catches it gracefully, being accustomed to this sort of behaviour.

“Get it cleaned thoroughly. For now, I want it out of my sight,” he says sternly, loosening his tie. He wants to go home and shower. Never coming back to this godforsaken place again.

Just a few days later, the finalised draft of the article that is to be published online is sent to your email. It mentions the volunteer work you and Sukuna had done during the day, and also talks briefly about the generous donation that was given to the facility – just the way you’d requested them to. Sukuna won’t be too happy about the photos that show him wearing that apron, but it’s a well worth sacrifice to make. It's during these times, where you’re grateful for the connections you have with the media. You send them the approval email in response.

Once the article is published, you forward the link for Sukuna to see.

He skims through the blocks of uninteresting text on the site, and abruptly stops scrolling when he gets to the photos that have been added in.

There are key moments that had been photographed; when they were serving the food, when they were helping with the dishes, and when they shook hands with the one in charge of that facility. But the image that stands out to him the most, is the one taken when they were manually washing some trays together.

His own face isn’t visible because he has his back to the camera, but your genuine smile, as you’re looking at him, can be seen clear as day.

“The photographer deserves a raise,” he speaks to himself.

When’s the next time he’ll ever get an expression like that out of you again?

…He shuts his laptop screen down. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He’s not here to try and make you happy, after all.

-- To be continued --

Masterlist

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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