#the other one is a writing drabble i'm almost finished with

[emeraldserenade]

Save Me ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: Joaquín and Sam noticed the signs but they hoped they were wrong.

tw: fem!reader, spousal abuse, Sam and Joaquín being the best at helping reader, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Guys, I started avidly reading Sam fics too and I am starved for fics. Why does almost no one write for him? (Does anyone have any recs?) Also, I said I wanted to post everyday but I was tired after class and took a nap instead so this is coming out late (12:20am).

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It started with the flinching, when you first joined Sam and Joaquín you were a force to be messed with. But now, you flinched when someone raised their voice or if someone moved just a little too fast. You blamed it on the lack of sleep and the amount of caffeine you drink, but Joaquín wasn't buying it.

Next was the smaller bruises, you claimed they just showed up and that your doctor said it happens because of your lack in iron. But they were vaguely hand and finger shaped, like someone was holding onto you too tight.

Then it was the constant apologies, even when it wasn't your fault. You would apologize for running into a table or if you made a noise you deemed too loud. You would apologize for speaking your mind when you weren't asked and you apologized for talking too long when you announced you were leaving for a bit.

Sam picked up on it too, he brought it up with Joaquín. Sam wanted to make sure that he wasn't reading too much into it, and when Joaquín said he noticed the same thing, they both knew they needed to confront you. They agreed that they would the next day at work, but you called in sick. So they pushed it off until you came in, but that day never happened.

You tracked the boys, you three had a Life360 so you could keep track of each other. You saw that they were both at Joaquín's and you drove there, your bags and belonging packed with you. Your lip throbbed where it was split open and you could tell you looked horrible.

You got to Joaquín's and parked your car by Sam's, you knocked on the door and it didn't take long until you were sat on a dining room chair while they helped you. You could help but sob and apologize, you felt helpless. There you were crying over your now ex after he beat you, again, when you were supposed to be a superhero. The irony wasn't lost on you, but it made you feel worse.

"Angel," Joaquín's soft voice broke you out of your thoughts and you noticed Sam was missing. "Sam's starting the shower for you, come on," Joaquín helped you up and you two walked to the bathroom.

"I'll go grab your bags from the car," Sam told you and your gratefully nodded.

"You can stay here, I know you're going to argue but it's an offer. Think about it," Joaquín told you before gently shutting the door. You were washing away your feeling of insecurity and unease when Sam gently cracked the door.

"I'm going to place your bag right here on the counter for you, if you need anything yell for one of us," Sam told you before leaving. You finished your shower and wrapped yourself in the towel before stepping out of the shower. You walked to your bag and just stared in the mirror for a moment. You were right, you looked horrible. Your lip was split, but you could tell that, but you had a hand shaped bruise on your chest from where he had pushed you against the wall and held you there. There was more, bruises around your body and they were just painful reminders that you weren't strong enough to stop him.

You slowly got dressed, picking out your favorite pajamas. It was just a green silk nightgown but it hit mid-thigh and it would let you put bruise cream on your bruises. You walked out to the living room and sat down on the couch between the two, it only took a moment before you started tearing up again.

"I feel like a failure," you told them. "I couldn't even keep myself safe, how am I supposed to keep the world safe?"

"What you went through does not make you any less of a hero or any less strong. You had no control over it and it wasn't your fault," Sam took the lead in the conversation, his time helping at the VA coming in handy. "You went through the unimaginable, it had to be hard. You are still the strong and confident women from before. You just have to find her," Sam assured you.

"And we will be there every step of the way," Joaquín added and you smiled for the first time that night. You felt safe and loved at Joaquín's and you realized that you do want to stay.

"Is that offer to stay still on the table?" You questioned.

"Of course it is, come on, I'll show you the room," Joaquín stood and you and Sam followed suit. As you walked down the hallway and to the room, you realized you were in the road of recovery. It may be hard and long, but you had two people you knew loved and cared for you were helping. Plus, now you could hopefully find the courage to tell Joaquín how you felt. Though that might have to wait until you weren't freshly out of a relationship.

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Masterlist | Requests

[xo-adeline]

"So how should I begin this..?"

⋆°• ☁︎ - Small Drabbles!

Feat. Pan Nikos and Peyn Algos

AN: The characters are owned by @kokii-omii !! I was the anon who had asked about writing the x reader for them, I tried to find as much as I could about them before I started and I'm so sorry if this is kinda out of character!! But again, thank you so much!!<3

You did not plan to show up to the Savanaclaw Spell Drive Stadium today, but here you were. Standing at one of the pillars near the stairs looking over at the people on the field. In reality, you had made your way over to ask something of Epel, the new homework had made next to no sense, and since you knew that there would be no way that Vil would’ve let him go to practice without finishing so you finally got over it and headed through the campus towards the dorm.

Luckily, the weather had been pretty nice. A nice breeze had picked up when you were walking through the outside dorm and towards the many stairs to get up to where the field was. The whole time that you were walking you couldn’t help but enjoy the weather, which was one of the reasons you had ended up staying out there much longer than you had anticipated. The wind was slightly picking up, swaying some of the players on the brooms, not too bad, but just enough that could slightly see the way the people up in the air were starting to struggle.

All of a sudden there was a strong wind. Sand kicked up everywhere and even started to fly into your eyes, the players starting to move around before you had finally been able to see and when you opened your eyes there was suddenly a dark red-haired boy spiraling towards you. When the two of you had finally both sat up, there was a groan from both people as Leona, Ruggie, and Epel had all headed over. Epel helping the red-headed boy, who you had now learned that his name was Peyn based on the way that the rest of the team had yelled his name. Ruggie soon came to help you back up, doing a quick checkup before Epel had spoken up.

“What are you doing here anyway, (Name)?”

“Actually, I came down here to find you, about the new assignment from Trein.”

Epel gave a slight laugh before nodding

“Of course, once I’m done wit’ this I gotcha.”

As soon as both Epel and Ruggie had headed back and started assessing the situation with Leona about what to do for the rest of practice is when the student next to you had finally spoken to you.

“..Sorry about that. The wind was stronger than I had thought. But you are okay, right?”

You nodded as he looked slightly around you, checking for anything that seemed amiss. When he had come up when nothing he could see he nodded, before heading back over.

With the satisfaction of knowing that you would get the answers from Epel, or at least help, you headed back down the unreal amount of stairs they had and headed back over to your dorm, and much to Peyn’s luck, it means you missed the aftermath of the teasing from the others. You can’t blame them! There was no way that Peyn would have ever checked on them like that, maybe a pat on the back and a quick “you good?” but the actual worry in his eyes was a dead giveaway that even if he didn’t say it, maybe there was something like love at first crash there.

Did you know this was a horrible idea? Hell yeah, but did it matter in the end anyway? No. There was no way that you were gonna pass this class without Pan helping you. Who knew that ancient curses were that much harder than just learning normal history? When the time had finally rolled around for when you had planned to meet up, he was already there. Sitting up on one of the chairs, his headphones on as he was looking at something on his phone. There was a moment of silence as you tried to get his attention without scaring him, but when you stepped in his face looked up almost in an instant, there was a small smile before you finally walked over. The second you sat down he had made mention of what you needed to work on, something recent or something from a couple of weeks ago, knowing that one of the exams was coming up for it. He had always been pretty good with curses but there was also a chance that it wouldn’t be as good trying to teach somebody the same thing, but you had heard from Cater that he was one of the “#best” when it came to understanding things like that no matter how much the teacher yapped about it and you could only take in a percentage of what he said.

There was something about the way he tried to explain things that actually made way more sense than before, or maybe it was just because you perchance had a crush on him and there was no way that you were gonna miss anything that he said, no matter how dumb it was, and you would never know but there would be no way that Pan would have done this for just anybody, he was a part of Ignihyde and was good friends with Idia for a reason, and it wasn’t because he went out of his way to teach him different subjects when he could be doing anything else. It was all going well until Ortho walked in. He had just smiled when he saw the two of you together, there may have been a chance that Ortho had seen Pan’s vitals before he had left, and knowing that he was gonna be helping you out of anybody might have made his heart race just a little more than normal, especially when he had heard it from Cater that you were asking about him.

Both of you had just said Hi, expecting him to just excuse himself and then head back out, but sadly, that didn’t happen. He had made mention of Pan’s expression and vitals from before he had left, and even ones now, when he was even more nervous that you were not only this close to him, but also that you had been actually talking to him, and even asking for help. But before he could say anything else, Pan had made sure that he took Ortho out of the room before he could make any more mention about the potential things that he’d heard from in the dorm, leaving you sitting there and laughing at the interaction. Was the study session actually successful? A little, I mean there was no way that you got nothing from that, but was there also a chance that you now knew that he had felt stronger about you than just normal was nice.

[cutieboop2000]

A witch in a dissolving gang... (part 1)

I already explained the basics of Celene in Loveless Biker Boys, so it might be easier to explain her for Wild Biker Boys. Her appearance is still the same, except there's a lot more flair to the design, making it hellish to draw (if she even gets drawn by someone besides me) unless I'm proven wrong (In which I'll be overjoyed and appreciate it o:). The outfit goal is still on the whimsigothic side of things, maybe a hint of lunarpunk??

Noticeably, Celene's got a hint of night sky magic residue on her face (like night sky markings and freckles), probably because of using lunar magic and night magic for a long time. It might be a side effect of consulting in forbidden magical practices, like cosmic horror, or the advanced, dark counterpart of moon magic. In WBB, she is 29, so she's later in the 20's range (mainly by guessing the age gap in the one Dice pic from the WBB files).

Another thing is that now Dice isn't the only one with a cloak, and Celene has one too! Part of it is made with corvid feathers (which, by Luna's new moon form, becomes actual magical wings), but the rest is full of silk and hints of stardust. It's a cloak representing the night sky. Does that mean she'll overthrow Dice? ... Who knows. It can only happen when it's necessary, but she usually doesn't think about this... at least, until things really go downhill for the Loveless Biker Boys. Otherwise, her fashion is more on the mysterious, elegant, and badass side (which, like I said, would probably make it hard for her to be drawn properly compared to LBB Celene).

If WBB is about the 'worst' of someone, in this case it would be that Celene's gone coo-coo crazy, like Jeff is, except she's controlled it for the most part. She's more likely akin to a mad doctor (and maybe a 'hunter'?) even though she's still the gang's healer/medic and witch... She's gone to unethical lengths to enhance healing as well as make others suffer with dark magic and her moon magic's darker counterpart. She's also a lot more tired than usual, and it isn't just due to staying up to stargaze and check the moon. It's just pure madness from going deeper in eldritch knowledge of the night/moon and practicing unethical magic. And also... getting full knowledge of what happens, like, fourth wall or otherwise. She's become (relatively) sentient.

(CW: Blood, Violence, Body horror, Drug mention, Murder(?), Death, Necromancy, Torture, Unethical Medical Practices)

What's different with Celene's moon magic here?

New Moon: A very notable difference is that Luna is not just shadow essence anymore. She has stars to decor her entire shadow-y fur, and her eyes serve like the moon. Aesthetically speaking, a biker (or somebody else) would see a literal walking piece of the night sky should they encounter Celene as Luna at night. Another difference is that whilst in LBB, Luna did not have feathers, but in WBB, that cape Celene has grants Luna magical wings only for that form specifically. For the darker counterpart of moon magic, the New Moon is essentially the 'opposite' full moon, so she's buffed in a different way. So uhhhh... good luck with that, and my condolences, whoever gets on her bad side or her 'excitable' side.

Those unfortunate to be caught by Luna will be subject as a research experiment for those unethical magical tests involving baneful and dark magic. After all, while Celene needs to charge her magic in a unique way, now she also craves blood in addition to traditional means like rest and more. However, as a consequence, Celene would realize after putting a test subject through hell, via experimentation, 'surgery', even some body tampering (leading to body horror), she has to take a bath or a shower. She wouldn't like reeking of blood, and would rather smell like a floral bouquet of lavenders and pretend she didn't do too much of a horrible act like murder or necromancy.

In terms of the shadows, though, that's about the same. They can be used as their own weapon, they can be used for dramatics, and they can be used as part of that story choreography gig for karaokes. Celene herself can still do the glowy teeth and eyes thing too before becoming Luna, and it's still intimidating.

Waxing Moon: The waxing moon still has its principle that whatever intent Celene puts into the magic, it follows that intention. It is typically magical in nature, though it's worth adding that throughout the years, she's applied this not only in magic, but in physical combat. She improves her physical capabilities slightly by adding some of this magic with intent to a weapon, such as a scythe or a rapier. The weapon training has indeed come in handy on this department!

Full Moon: About the same. Multiple things, like speed, combat, racing, etc. get boosted, but it doesn't stack with anything else (no, not even the blue moon, which is 2 full moons in one month). Full Moon magic can also work to make weapons stronger, even more lethal, than what waxing or waning can do to boost weapons. Celene's more honest about her strength and her own limits, unlike Dice. Celene's hair, ears and tail still glow white like the moon in this form, though the small strands of white from WBB Celene's hair become black in this case. (Think black and white being the opposite colors of each other.) It can still happen on-will and with strong emotions (anger, sadness, competitiveness, etc.). However, again, the limits still apply, because having this magic be on for too long just makes her exhausted/tired as all hell. Just a reminder: Don't forget to charge your Celene's magical energy with rest, care, blood, and more!

Waning Moon: With the waning moon, it can heal, and it can also hurt. It's like vampirism that when this magic is applied to a weapon (aka, a rapier or a scythe), she could suck the life-force out of an enemy to give it to an ally for healing. It's an addition that has helped her improve and be a medical witch in more ways than one, and again, Celene's thankful for that too!

Otherwise, the healing magic is still there, and Celene tends to be very nurturing to her friends, allies, and more, caring and tending to their wellbeing/health. She's especially been really nurturing to the boss (Dice) as part of being the gang's medic as well as being genuinely concerned about his health since he took up the drugs to enhance his strength.

For the gang's enemies, however... they become the subject(s) of Celene/Luna's medical torture, and waning moon magic intends to drain them of their life. However, they may not stay truly dead forever, either! She could bring them back to life with necromancy/dark magic to rinse, repeat, and do more experiments! Part of it is to hone her magic with the appropriate target with unethical means, but the rest of it... is all in the name of medicine and research.

Bonus: Star Magic: This one is a recent ability as Celene grows and hones her lunar and night magic, however, it's not really used for combat. No, it functions like how one person would write letters, or how someone makes art on a canvas. All it takes is Celene to generate a projection of the night sky, and she'll draw on it like art or she can write messages on it. It sometimes looks like constellations, though it's different from what someone would see in the night sky when the area is clear. She mainly uses it for writing, communication, art, and musical purposes for storytelling.

[heartsbyani]

a song , that sounds like you

[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.

jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.

tonight was no different—except maybe it was.

jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."

y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."

"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"

"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."

jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."

"you mean the peak of your laziness."

"same thing."

"you’re cooking today."

jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"

"you heard me."

"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"

"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."

jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."

"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his tee. "this is humiliating."

y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.

"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"

"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."

"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.

y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"

he clutched his chest. "ouch."

"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."

"it was one time!"

"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."

"i can do that," he said confidently.

y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.

"jisung."

"hold on, it's just being stubborn."

"you're literally supposed to—"

before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.

"…okay. that was aggressive."

y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."

"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.

she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."

"and yet you still keep me around."

"i really question why, sometimes."

jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."

"debatable."

"wow. you wound me."

she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."

he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.

"see? improvement."

y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."

as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.

"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.

she glanced up. "at what?"

"everything," he said simply.

her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."

"honest."

she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."

jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."

"debatable."

jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"

y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.

they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.

except maybe it was.

because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.

and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.

the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.

jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."

"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.

"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."

"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."

jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."

yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.

and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.

the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.

the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.

she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.

y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”

jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”

but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.

when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.

she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.

she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.

“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”

his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”

“liar.”

their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.

jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.

he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”

y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”

“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”

she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”

jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”

y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”

“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”

she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”

he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.

“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”

jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.

“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her top. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”

he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.

“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”

silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.

something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.

“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”

y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”

he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“i won’t.”

they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.

"marry me," he said, mouth full.

y/n gave him a look. "chew first."

he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"

"no."

jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."

"you are an idiot, man."

"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.

she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.

she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.

"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"

jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.

"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."

y/n laughed. "no way."

"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."

"did no one wake him up?"

"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."

she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"

jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."

her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"

"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."

"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."

"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"

he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."

she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."

he raised a brow. "ask what?"

"about my day, genius."

"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"

she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"

"a guy named sunwoo."

jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.

“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”

y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”

jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”

she snorted. “true.”

silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.

except—

“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”

jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”

she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”

jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”

y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”

yeah, okay. sure.

he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.

y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”

jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.

“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”

“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.

she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”

jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”

“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”

“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”

y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”

“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”

she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.

“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”

y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”

jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”

she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”

something unspoken settled in the air.

jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”

“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard.

jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.

“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”

y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.

“dork,” she muttered under her breath.

and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.

"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"

she laughed, shaking her head.

soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.

"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.

y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."

"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."

"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."

jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"

"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.

jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."

y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."

"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.

she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.

jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."

the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"

"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."

yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."

"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."

she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."

"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."

she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."

"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."

she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.

jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"

she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."

y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.

jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."

yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."

"i’m right," he corrected.

she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."

he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."

she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."

jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."

another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.

jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.

yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"

"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."

she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."

jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."

y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.

and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.

she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."

jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."

y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."

the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.

she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.

"right. let’s clean up."

and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.

. . .

the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.

jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.

y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”

jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”

“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”

he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”

“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”

“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.

something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.

he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.

y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.

he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”

she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”

he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.

and then, he sang.

his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.

she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.

she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.

his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.

it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.

and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?

her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.

she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.

jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”

y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”

he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she said softly.

another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.

jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”

y/n tilted her head. “about what?”

“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”

“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”

y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”

jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.

finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”

her heart skipped.

“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just… our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”

y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”

“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”

together.

the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.

she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.

and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?

she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”

jisung blinked. “okay?”

“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.

“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.

she wasn’t sure if that was true.

because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—

there would be no going back.

and that terrified her more than anything.

. . .

sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.

the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.

it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.

“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”

y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”

“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”

they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.

“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”

jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.

she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.

and that was when it happened.

something… shifted.

it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.

jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.

the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.

and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.

it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.

it was slow.

deliberate.

his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.

the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.

the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.

jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.

and y/n’s breath caught.

it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.

but this?

this was new.

this was different.

she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.

and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.

slow. hesitant. but sure.

his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.

yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.

and then, suddenly—

their lips met.

soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.

but then she leaned in.

and he did too.

and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.

jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.

her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.

he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.

his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.

as if asking, did we just cross the line?

but the thing was—

maybe there had never been a line in the first place.

maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.

their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.

his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.

the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.

she felt warm.

not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.

jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.

she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.

“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.

“kissed.”

jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”

silence. not awkward, but charged.

y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.

then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”

she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”

“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.

“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”

jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”

y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”

“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”

she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”

jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.

his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.

then, he whispered, “no.”

her breath hitched.

jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”

a beat of silence.

“…no.”

another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.

then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”

she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”

“that makes two of us.”

they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.

then—

jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.

slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”

she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.

jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.

she was warm.

he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.

the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.

the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.

jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”

yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”

“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”

she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”

and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

[keferon]

I should be asleep but this is consuming me.

So have this poorly thought out fic drabble idea of mine:

Prowl is in pain, hurt and agony, physically and emotionally. He shouldn't have let Jazz convince him, he should have listened to that tingly uncertain feeling on his spark about this

But dammit was Jazz so...so convincing. It pained him to realise how much he wanted to trust the organic.

What didn't help was that bastard in front of him giving him mock grief. Prowl knew he did not care at all about how he feels, he knew there was some sort of sick enjoyment to all of this.

"Sorry, he couldn't come visit again. He actually had to help out with the newest mech, in fact, this prototype had one of your own parts in it!" Prowl wanted to sob, twisted asshole.

Suddenly, something seemed to have caught the organic's attention. Prowl didn't hear it at first, but once the man in front of him turned around in confusion, he heard it, there was some sort of commotion on the other side of the door.

Suddenly, before any of them could question what was going on, the doors burst out open with an explosion, causing many tools to clatter to the ground as the ground shook.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!" Prowl, in a weak yet desperate attempt, turned his head to look at the direction of the voice. He recognised it-

"Jazz?" He spoke weakly. That seemed to have crushed the organic's soul, his face crumbling from his previous rage, before, in a blink of an eye, it turned back to fury. Fury so strong it could kill whoever dared look.

"Jazz?!" The twisted man standing in front of Prowl's face looked offended if not straight out annoyed at the other's presence. "What are you-?" He couldn't even finish his sentence before the other dropped whatever it was he had been holding and jumped on top of him. The two fought for a while, Jazz punching the guy a few times on the face before grabbing him by the neck of his shirt and throwing him to the other side of the room.

Jazz huffed, making sure to keep his eyes on his target for a second to see if that was enough to have knocked him out. It was. And once he was sure the guy wouldn't come back at him, he turned to look at Prowl, who so far, has only made move to watch the whole thing go down.

It took a while for the mech to properly process how Jazz looked, how he looked at him. Guilt, pain, sadness, exasperation even. It almost seemed like he was...crying?

"Prowl!" His partner? Ex-partner? (He wasn't sure anymore), ran to grasp his face, and he let him, to weak to fight back like he wanted to. Then he felt it, small droplets of water fall down his faceplates, 'Oh, so he was crying'. "I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-" as he moved, Prowl took notice of how dishevelled the other looked, the sudden smell of iron making him realise that he seemed to be covered in blood, if it was his own or not, Prowl wasn't sure, perhaps it was both. Taking a closer look, he started to notice all the small bruises and scratches on Jazz's face, in fact he took notice of a limp on his left leg too.

The other just seemed to be mumbling to himself as he tried to free Prowl, who so far has not spoken all that much, he felt too weak and tired, and he really had nothing to say other than a simple reply to what Jazz said before but he didn’t process it till now

"You really shouldn't have..."

---

Ok that's all i have rn, bc I'm not much of a writer and idk how to write these characters so they might be a bit OOC sorry ^^;;

But feel free to like add and/or fix anything to this.

Just wanna add the note that maybe, the reason Jazz found out is bc he recognised Prowl's plating on the new mech thing they built ;)

OH MY GOD I CANT EVEN

RAAAAHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS. OH FUCK. THI s. SO GOOD AND PAINFUL IM ASCENDING TO SOME NEW UNDISCOVERED DIMENSIONS

ALSO. oh my fucking god you have galaxy brain for this. imagine the horror Jazz feels when he sees this random new robot his boss wants to test. And it’s plating is so freaking familiar. He runs his hands along the panels. And he recognises them, even repainted. Because he spent so much time sitting on them, repairing them, crawling on them with his magnets. Sleeping on them even. He sees the “scar” from the time he helped Prowl to fix his armor and welded some cracks in it.

And now the fucking plates are here but Prowl isn’t.

[mononijikayu]

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

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

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation;

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

WORDS: 15k words.

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

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

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

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

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if you want to, tip! <3

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

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

And yet, at that moment, he wasn’t.

Ryomen Sukuna had a problem.

He was stumped from hell and back.

And he doesn’t understand why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lord…..my lord Sukuna.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, its Uraume.

Shit, shit. Is it already that time?

He hasn’t messaged them for two days.

How the fuck is he going to survive—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even then—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d be honored.”

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As they stand to leave, his gaze drifts to one of his portraits—a work that captures a moment from another time, another life. In it, the King of Curses sits beside his beloved concubine, her expression full of light and laughter, radiant in a way that suggests an unbreakable bond. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

══════════════════

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

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

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

Perhaps, that is until now.

Ryomen Sukuna was the first to notice.

There was a wide shoji that appeared before them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was just a sinner, a cruel cursed sinner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[leclarifies]

forgive and forget (CL16)

✰ charles leclerc x reader ✰

summary → dating a formula one driver meant that your boyfriend would always be busy, but what you didn't expect was for him to forget your anniversary all together.

genre → angst but gets fluffier towards the end (very short drabble, self-indulgent)

word count → 1.3k words

author's note → honestly, i really like writing angst with charles, i'm sorry dahbdhanda. i just needed a break from writing something with any sort of plot, so enjoy <3

the thunder in the background snapped me from my trance, i've been lost in thought for awhile now. the sky's dark and the day was almost ending, and here i was sitting at the dinner table, alone with food all around me.

the rain was drizzling in monaco, and it fueled the sinking hole in my chest. i knew that charles was a busy man, but i didn't expect him to forget our anniversary together.

somehow, i didn't feel sad, or disappointed. i just felt numb. it hurt of course, seeing your own boyfriend forgetting about your anniversary, something i thought that we would both celebrate together, spend the day together, or maybe just sit in the quiet of our apartment, kissing and touching and ending the day together.

but the fact of the matter was, he was a formula one driver and i couldn't keep expecting him to be there when i wanted. it was a selfish want, and somehow i needed to understand that not all anniversaries can be celebrated, and not all of them will be remembered.

a sigh escapes my lips, i've been waiting for him to come home for four hours now. maybe it was time to let up. i gently took the plates of now cold food and shuffled into the kitchen, putting them into containers to store in the fridge, not wanting them to go to waste. i had lost my appetite in the process, not even touching my own plate of food.

when i was finished putting all of the food away in the fridge, the door of our apartment jingled, charles was home.

"amour, i'm home," his voice had rung out in the apartment as he entered our shared apartment, even though i felt upset, i couldn't help but smile at him, at least he came home, right?

i was never the one to yell, to throw a fit when he forgot about something. even if it was something as important as our anniversary, i always wanted to talk it out, even when it made me upset and charles would always appreciate it, he would always talk to me lovingly even when we had our arguments.

"you missed our anniversary, love," i told him gently as i walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his middle before leaving a kiss on his cheek, his face flashed from surprise to frustration all in one go, he closed the door behind him and sighed, he was angry at himself for forgetting, i could tell. the way his brows were furrowed and his shoulders tensed.

"i-... amour, i'm sorry. things have been hectic, the car is just so shit this season and i didn't mean to—"

i cut him off before he could ramble on about his work with a soft kiss to his lips, "it's okay, i'm not mad at you. i know how things are at work and i understand, i just feel a little hurt that you didn't call or text me at all," i explain to him and he closes his eyes before wrapping his arms around me, he held me close.

i could smell the faint scent of his cologne as we held eachother close, the domestic aspect of it all. waiting for him to come home, cooking dinner for our anniversary even though he forgot.

"how about i make it up to you?" charles asked as he opened his eyes back up, the pretty green orbs of his eyes staring lovingly into me, staring lovingly into my bare soul, "what do you want to do?"

"can you just drive me around in your noisy car?" i laugh as he smiled at my joke, all of his cars were sports cars and they were noisy by default. i had always complained about it but i could never be mad at his love for his team, "just spend the night together, driving in the dark of the night while we sit in each other's company."

charles pressed his forehead against mine, he breathed in before nodding, "i can do that for you, do you want to go now?" he left a kiss on my lips before i nodded.

it wasn't long before i was in the passenger seat and he was starting his car up, i hadn't been in this car yet. i knew that he got it as a gift for his win in austin, i had attended the race and he had excitedly told me about the car once we got home in monaco but i never got the chance to sit in it until now.

"this one is a bit noisier, amour. i apologize," charles had said when the engine rumbled to life, i had settled into the seat as he drove off into the night of monaco, his phone had connected to the bluetooth automatically and his playlist was in the background, serving good ambience in the car.

"i love spending time like this, just the two of us, not really driving to anywhere meaningful," i had spoken up, breaking the previous comfortable silence the both of us were in, charles glanced at me before humming a response, eyes back on the road shortly.

monaco was a small city, but i noticed that charles had taken a particularly familiar track, it was the monaco grand prix track, where he had won earlier this year.

"i'm sorry," another apology leaves his lips, i turn my head to look at him, he didn't have to apologize. i forgave him after he got home, but i appreciated it, "i should've paid more attention, i know how important dates are to you. i should've set a reminder."

"i told you that it's okay, i'm not holding anything against you," i tell him softly, his hand instinctively reaches out for my knee and i let him, setting my hand above his as his thumb gently caresses my knee.

the both of us had spent most of that night going in circles, going on the familiar monaco track, it was almost 3am when charles had decided to go back home. the night drive we spent together was nice, it was peaceful. i loved it.

it wasn't long after the both of us had settled into our apartment, getting ready for bed.

i had sat in my vanity, just doing skincare with charles opting to sit on the floor, his head laid on my lap as i went through the steps for my night routine, my hand periodically going down to pat his head.

"we can go for dinner tomorrow, i have nothing planned," charles mumbles, leaving a kiss on my thigh, i nod, dinner was fun, considering that today's was left untouched.

i could feel his head lift up from my thigh, so i looked down and i saw him staring up at me, with all the love in his eyes, i just smiled at him, "what's wrong love?"

"nothing, i just... i'm sorry. i feel bad. i love you— i love us. i just can't believe that i could forget our anniversary so easily like that," charles mumbled, i pet his head again, i had told him countless of times in the car ride that i didn't hold any ill-intent against him for forgetting. his job was demanding, and something like that could've easily slipped his mind.

although i did feel hurt, he's trying to make it up to the best of his abilities now, and that's all i could ask for.

"how many times have i told you to stop apologizing?" i had told him before standing up, he did the same and the both of us made our way to the bed, snuggling up against eachother.

my head was against his chest and his face was in my hair, softly breathing in and out. i could tell he was tired but still went out to drive with me anyway.

"i love you, amour."

"i love you too charles."

"let's go to dinner tomorrow, okay? i'll make it up to you," charles pressed a gentle kiss onto my forehead and i could only hum back in return, i had my eyes closed and i was close to drifting off to sleep considering it was nearing 4 am at this point.

"okay, goodnight. sleep well."

"goodnight to you too mon amour."

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

hello my queen :)) i hope i'm not asking too much of you, is it alright if you just write a short drabble with könig and plus size reader? smut or fluff, whatever you're in the mood for. there's no good plus size reader fics and yours are some of the best :((

Anything for you, Lizzy 🩷

Tale of the Tummy 🌸

FYI, he wears no mask in this :)

You almost kill your boyfriend when you step out in your new dress.

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It was a Friday night, and König had insisted on taking you out on a date. He loved seeing you get all dolled up.

All that shining jewelry that sat so nicely against your skin, the dresses and skirts that hugged your figure so nicely he could've sworn he'd gone to heaven.

Your hair, your eyes, your lips- it drove him crazy. You were the most beautiful woman in his eyes.

You'd just finished your makeup, adding the final touch with the swipe of your lipstick. You descended the stairs in your new dress, your shoes in one hand and your purse in the other.

"Honey? I'm ready!" You called out, searching for your lover.

You found your giant of a boyfriend in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while nursing a glass of water.

He wore a black suit, deep maroon accents scattered throughout the ensemble in the form of a tie, socks, watch band and a pocket square.

The fabric stretched across his broad back and narrowed into the fitting sleeves that hugged his bulging arms perfectly.

The seams of his pants were close to bursting, trying to contain the trunks that were his thighs. His ass looked great, too.

"There you are!" You smiled, walking over to him.

You let out a low whistle followed by a giggle.

"Look at you, so handsome-"

before you could finish the teasing compliment he glanced over at you and choked on his water, and curiously, spit it out at the same time.

He coughed and heaved for air and you rushed over to him with a gasp, firmly patting his back to get the water out of his airway.

After he'd caught his breath and your hand was soothingly dragging up and down his spine, he looked at you again.

Your brows were furrowed and he could see the concern in your eyes.

"Are you alright?" You asked, worry tinting your tone. König nodded and cleared his throat.

"You look stunning, liebling." He smiled, his voice hoarse still.

"Thank you." You accepted the compliment and took a step back, twirling to show off the full outfit.

His eyes widened as he took you in fully, more than just the glance from a moment ago.

"Alter Schwede..." he breathed, pupils blown.

He swallowed thickly, eyes raking over your figure.

How were you so soft?

Your curves looked delicious, he had to hold himself back or he would've literally taken a bite out of you.

Your bare feet that would soon be caged into uncomfortable heels -the things we do for fashion- the long, flowy skirt that hid your legs.

König had to admit he missed the sight of your thighs. How they'd spill when you sat down, the dimples and cellulite that were so uniquely you.

Your wide hips that felt so natural in his hands or when you were seated in his lap.

His gaze skipped onto your face. Your round cheeks, your sparkling eyes accompanied by those pretty lips, and your radiant smile.

You were beautiful in every way he could possibly imagine.

The neck he loved to kiss and cover in love bites was adorned by a necklace that he'd bought for you, the precious stones shimmering in the light.

And God, the sight of your plush décolletage that felt so nice against his cheek was showing just a hint of a collarbone and he almost groaned at the sight of your breasts in that dress.

König would have to thank the lady who took the measurements for your bra, because they looked heavenly. Or should he thank your mom? God? Mother Nature?

He had no time to dwell on it because he made the fatal mistake of letting his eyes drop further.

Your tummy, so soft and rounded, dented the fabric of your dress just slightly. It was something you felt ruined the outfit sometimes, but it was by far his favorite part.

The curve of your pudge and the outline of our bellybutton were things he'd dreamed of, he knew it.

Your brows furrowed as you watched him stare at you with parted lips.

Without a thought in his head and all of them in his pants, he walked over to you with long strides and dropped to his knees in front of you, smushing his face into your belly.

A startled noise of surprise tumbled from your lips and your hands instinctively went to rest on the back of his head.

"What're you doing, hm? We have a reservation to get to." You reminded him.

He just exhaled into your flesh and pressed his face deeper into your stomach.

"So weich.. und gemütlich..." it was a muffled sound followed by a long sigh.

You chuckled, carefully running your fingers through his hair so you wouldn't mess it up. You were sure he put a lot of effort into it.

"As adorable as this is, we do have to leave." You spoke softly, gently tugging his face from your tummy.

König let out a displeased grumbled but obliged, pressing a kiss to your clothed belly before rising back to his full height.

"You are breathtaking, maus." He said quietly, resting his forehead against yours.

A smile stretched over your lips.

"And you," you began with a low tone, "look very distinguished. Let's not waste all of that."

You pulled him into a soft kiss and König melted into the touch of your lips, gently holding your hips.

His face was smooth in your hands, a sign he'd shaved and finally used that moisturizer you'd gotten him.

You hummed fondly into the kiss but pulled away, hoping to preserve your lipstick.

"Do we really have to go, liebling?" He sighed, downtrodden.

You caressed his cheek and smiled gently.

"If we go now and I get to show off my new dress tonight," you leaned in, stretching up high on your toes, your breath hot against his ear, "I'll let you take it off of me afterwards."

You grinned wickedly, your feet flat on the ground again, when you heard a breath getting caught in his throat. He blinked at you before swiftly grabbing your hand.

"Let's go." He dragged you towards the door and you had barely enough time to grab your shoes.

"Why in such a rush?" You teased with a smirk.

König came to a stop and turned around to look at you, his hand gently cupping your chin.

"We have a reservation to get to, don't we, mäuschen?"

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He's such a sweetheart, I just know he is 🥺

I hope you enjoyed ✨️😚

More of König and others -> 💫

Fi's Dictionary 📜

"Liebling" - "Darling" (u all know this one by now)

"Alter Schwede.." - "gawd dayum" (literal translation would be "old Swede".....languages r weird.)

"So weich.. und gemütlich..." - "So soft.. and cozy..." (no explanation needed.)

"Maus" - "Mouse" (used as a term of endearment)

"Mäuschen" - "Little Mouse" (used as a term of endearment)

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[nicoline1998enilocin]

Finally kissing you

PAIRING || Tony Stark x Avenger! Female! Reader

WORDCOUNT || 11.7K

SUMMARY || Two times Tony almost kissed you, and one time he did kiss you.

RATING || Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS || Mutual pining, Avenger! Reader, age gap romance, slow burn, explicit sexual content. 

TAGS | SMUT || Dirty talk, praise/praise kink, body worship, oral (F&M receiving), hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, aftercare.

A/N || This story has been sitting finished on my Drive for a little while now, and I'm beyond excited to finally be able to share it with you all! I want to thank @ccbsrmsf1 for all the love and support while writing this, and for the proofreading, too! This wouldn't be anywhere near this long without your suggestions and cheerleading. I love you, bestie! 🤍

A/N 2.0 || This story includes multiple drabbles from my Summer Of Drabbles challenge. The following drabbles have been included: Drabble #1 | Drabble #2 | Drabble #3.

EVENTS @fandom-free-bingo Frosty || x plus 1 @fandom-free-bingo Pride || Inclusivity @fandom-free-bingo Wild || Nobody took the couch @julybreakbingo Post-JBB || Noticing and/or experiencing the intelligent side of someone seen as unintelligent @tonystarkbingo #8005 || Protectiveness

GIF: @ccbsrmsf1 || All the other graphics in this post are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Summer Of Drabbles

Today’s story starts at the ceremony where you officially started working for SHIELD, as you caught the eye of none other than the self-proclaimed ‘genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’ himself: Tony Stark. You’re the only woman in a crowd of male soldiers, but that’s not what stood out to him; the determination that dripped off every move you made and every word you spoke is what caught his attention. It didn’t take long for him to come up to you and introduce himself.

“So, what does a beautiful girl like yourself do between all these men? Aside from outshining them in every department, of course,” he says with his signature smirk, and you nearly choke on your drink as you hear his voice like honey. Growing up, you’ve always looked up to him and everything he has accomplished, so it is surreal that he is the one who came up to you, let alone complimenting you the way he did.

“Well- uhm…” you say as you try to gather your composure again, not wanting to look weird in front of the Iron Man, though you can’t help but feel that idea has gone out the window as soon as you nearly choked on your champagne.

“I- I am a SHIELD Agent, actually, specializing in nanotechnology. I’ve written and published a paper about it and some of its uses inside the human body not too long ago,” you tell him proudly, and his eyebrow raises slightly.

“Nanotech in the human body, hm? What do you think of maybe coming to my lab later so you and I can talk about that paper of yours? And to have a drink on your acceptance to SHIELD, of course.” Your eyes widen in surprise, but you’re eager to accept his once-in-a-lifetime offer from Tony. Heat surges through your cheeks at the thought of being alone with him soon, and you can’t stop smiling as you try to hide your nerves by taking another sip.

“I’ll be there in 15. Don’t keep me waiting, Beautiful,” he says with a smooth wink, and the nickname has your legs feeling like jelly as he turns around. That night, after arriving in Tony’s lab, you two have talked a lot about nanotechnology, and he even let you take a look at the arc reactor, too. After getting some useful insights, Tony immediately went to work, and you didn’t stop yourself from taking a peek or two at his bare torso when he did. And he didn’t mind, whatsoever.

When it was finally time for you to go, Tony insisted on getting into the Uber he ordered with you to know you arrived home safe. From that moment on, a tradition was born where you would often visit his lab and he would bring you home no matter what time of day it was, or how bad New York weather has become. Your bond has become stronger than you ever could have imagined, and the moment you became an Avenger, he was the person who applauded hardest and the first to hug you with congratulations.

But that’s not all, because over time, you and Tony have not only become the best of friends and each other’s biggest crush, but also mission partners, and that is exactly how you find yourself in the situation you are in now. Nose to nose with the man you love as you’re trying not to be recognized during your mission. While you’re both wearing outfits that make you pretty much unrecognizable, it’s still cutting it close when you’re face to face with one of HYDRA’s supervisors.

“What do we do now?” you whisper to him, your grip on his arms tightening with every footstep that’s audible from the hallway. While you two are stuffed in the first broom closet you could find, trying your hardest not to be found out in your hiding spot, you can’t help but take in the closeness between you two right now. While you and Tony have been close in many different ways before, you’ve never been this type of close.

“Well…” Tony says softly as the corner of his mouth lifts into his signature lopsided smirk, his hand slowly rising to your cheek where he gently tucks a piece of the long wig you’re wearing behind your ear. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his calloused fingertips make contact, and his eyes flick from yours to your soft, pink lips and back. It feels like every inch of you is on fire, and your heart might leap out of your chest if he does what you think he’s about to do.

For months you’ve been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, how his lips will feel on yours and how he will taste. In all honesty, it’ll most likely taste like coffee as that is what he’s most known to drink if he’s not indulging in the adult drink variety. It’s been on your mind a lot more than you’d ever admit to anyone, but now that it’s this close it’s all consuming.

Your eyes slip shut as Tony leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your lips as he takes a moment to let it sink in that he’s finally about to kiss you. After all the years you two have spent together, you’re finally about to have the release you’ve been desperately searching for. Until…

“It’s over, everyone. Natasha shot him, so our mission is done here,” you hear Steve say over the earpiece you’re wearing, and you jump back - or as far back as you can in the small broom closet you're inhabiting with your crush. A massive wave of disappointment soars through your body when you realize you were extremely close to finding out how soft Tony’s lips are. Now your entire body is on fire from rage instead of lust, and you’re looking forward to punching one of the punching bags when you’re back at the Avengers Compound. If you don’t hit Steve first, for interrupting your moment.

It’s been a little over a month since the mission where you and Tony almost kissed, but you have spent nearly every waking moment thinking about it. Whether you were alone in your room, eating with all the other Avengers or spending some quality time with some of them, Tony has been the topic of your thoughts 99% of the time. And you’ve been on his mind, too.

“I- Fuck! I’m still mad that he had to finish the mission right when we were about to kiss! Can you believe it?! I almost kissed the love of my life, but somehow Steve had to fuck it all up again,” he grumbles angrily, though there is no one other than his robot Dum-E to listen to his ranting. He’s been tinkering a lot more with the Iron Man suit lately, locking himself in his lab whenever he gets the chance. The only interruptions he accepts are when you visit him, but you haven’t visited that much since the ‘incident’.

“I’m a bit worried about her, in all honesty. She used to spend most of her time with us, but now she’s barely here and I miss her,” Tony says in a sad tone, which Dum-E answers with a low whirring noise, as if he’s expressing his own sadness about you not being there. From the moment Tony introduced Dum-E to you, you’ve always been happy to see him, even if he's just a robot who helps Tony out in his lab.

Then, as if his prayers were suddenly answered, Tony hears a soft knock on the glass leading to his lab. He turns his head around much too quickly, accidentally hurting his neck as he looks at who’s behind the glass. You.

Tony rubs his neck with a pained look as he orders JARVIS to open the door, and you slowly make your way into his lab so as to not accidentally knock into something or step on anything. As soon as you’re in his line of sight, he smiles at you, his insides being set on fire as his eyes find yours. The sparkle he sees is one he missed a lot over the past month, but he’s happy to see it again.

“You know, you could have just asked who’s at the door instead of hurting yourself over me. I’d rather not be the reason you’re in pain,” you say jokingly, and Tony smiles widely as he nods in response.

“I can’t help it, Beautiful. As soon as I heard a knock I was actually hoping it was you again,” he says, his voice rough from lack of use other than to grumble something to Dum-E. You walk over to stand behind him, so you’re able to massage his neck and shoulders a little, hoping to take away the worst of his pain in the process. He groans deeply when you work your usual magic, and you can’t help but clench your thighs at the sound of it.

“I’m glad to say your hopes have come true,” you say softly before finishing up and walking around him again to sit on your usual stool. This is when he finally noticed you’re wearing one of his MIT hoodies, the sleeves being much too long for your arms and the fit of it being very oversized, but it’s your favorite from the moment you first borrowed it. He cannot get enough of seeing you in it, and he’s more than happy to let you have his hoodie.

“Can I ask you something?” your gaze is focused on your fingers as you tug on the cuff of Tony’s hoodie. Tony’s brows furrow in a mix of worry and curiosity, but he hums to give you the go-ahead for your question.

“Will you come to a bar with us tonight? It’s been a while since you’ve come out of your lab, and I miss spending time with you. As much as I love spending time with you in your lab, I enjoy it even more when I get to experience fun things with you.” Your voice is soft, your gaze still focused on your lap as he lets the words sink in. You hear his chair rolling forward, and one of his hands stops you from fiddling, while the other lifts your chin gently, making you look at him.

“I- I’m sorry for not leaving my lab as much, Beautiful. It didn’t occur to me that this was going on, but to make it up to you I’ll gladly come out of here and have drinks with everyone. And if you want, we can also order some take-out and eat it together in my penthouse while we watch a movie,” Tony offers, and the corners of your mouth lift into a hopeful smile.

“I’d love nothing more, Tony! I’ll go tell the others you’re coming tonight and I’ll be in your penthouse at 7,” you tell him, to which he nods in answer. His thumb gently strokes your fingers, and you don’t want to go just yet, so the two of you stay for a little bit longer, letting the moment last a few more moments before he pulls back, allowing you to share the news with everyone.

“Thank you for everything, Tony. I’m looking forward to dinner,” you say before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek, which results in a deep red blush on his face, making him look adorable. As promised, you’re at his penthouse at 7, and much to your surprise, he has ordered your favorite pasta, and the movie you two love to watch is ready to be played. He has thought of everything, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

After dinner, you and Tony both got ready to go to the bar, and while he went for a casual outfit, you opted for a black jumpsuit with a low-cut neckline and a pair of heels, accentuating all your favorite parts of your body in the best way possible. What you didn’t expect, however, is Tony’s reaction as soon as he saw you walking in to meet everyone before you’re heading out to the bar.

An audible gasp filled the room when everyone went silent as they took in your outfit, and Tony quickly hid behind the marble counter in the kitchen, his knuckles turning bright white as his cheeks burn to a bright red color as he’s trying his hardest to get his boner to go down. He’s had this reaction to you walking in and looking like this before, but each time it’s still embarrassing, as he feels like a teenage boy with a massive crush on a girl in his class.

“Hi everyone, you’re all looking amazing,” you say as you walk into the room, most of them dressed in their comfortably casual clothes, but when you look over at Tony, you can’t help but raise your eyebrows in concern. He almost looks like he’s in pain, and you quickly make your way over to him to see if everything is okay.

“Tony, what’s going on? Is it something with your arc reactor? I can have a look at it right now if you want-” is all you can say, but he just shakes his head, his cheeks feeling hotter with every passing moment. He’s praying that you’re not seeing the hard-on he has for you, but you’re so close it’s almost impossible not to.

“I think he’s a big fan of the way you look tonight, Detka,” Natasha pipes up, her signature grin flashed at you when you’re looking over at her. If it were possible, Tony would have been swallowed by the ground as he’s still trying his hardest to hide, but it’s becoming more and more impossible with every second. Then, it suddenly clicks what Natasha talks about, and you stammer a sorry before stepping back with equally hot cheeks.

“I- Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Tony! I didn’t mean to embarrass you-”

“It- It’s okay, Beautiful,” Tony groans, the fabric of his jeans shifting across his painfully hard length, and he feels like he’s going to blow any second now.

“Just go ahead without me, I- I have some business to take care of,” he says with his most convincing smile, and you whisper a soft okay before walking out of the kitchen with the other Avengers, Natasha by your side the entire time. The entire time, she can’t stop smiling, and your curiosity is getting the best of you.

“What’s going on with you? You haven’t been able to stop smiling like… this the entire time,” you say as you point at her face, but she shakes her head in response.

“I just can’t believe that you two won’t admit it already. You’re both horny for each other-” is all you can say before you put your hand over her mouth, silencing her with the gesture. A small whimper escapes her lips as you do it, the move catching her off-guard as you two come to a standstill, the other Avengers continuing without noticing you two.

“We’re not horny for each other, Nat! We’re just friends, and you know it!” you hiss at her when the others are out of earshot. As you hear the words fill the air, you can’t help but think that it’s all a big lie, because you have been fantasizing about Tony more than once when you had some time to yourself at night, but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh come on, you two are practically undressing each other with your eyes each time you’re in the same room together. And based on Tony’s reaction, he really enjoys the way you look tonight.” As you listen to her words, your cheeks are set on fire, her words ringing more true than ever before. It’s only now that you realize why Tony was hiding the way he did, and what kind of business he meant.

While you’re one of the smartest people in the field of nanotechnology, you’re not always the best in picking up these kinds of social cues, and embarrassment is settling in more and more the longer you look at your best friend. Suddenly, everything clicks in your mind and you finally realize that Tony has feelings for you, too.

“I’m sorry for the interruption, ladies. Are you both ready to go?” Tony asks with a smile, his voice causing goosebumps on your entire body. After a nod, the three of you walk outside to join the others who were waiting, and it doesn’t take long for everyone to be sitting in a large booth in your favorite bar, and you’re settled in next to Tony thanks to Natasha.

Each time one of you moves and your arms touch, you’re both flushed like a lobster, and each time he leans in a little closer to hear what you’re saying, you can’t help but let your gaze fall to his pink lips. The entire time, you’re clenching your thighs, too, as the closeness you’re now experiencing is intoxicating in its own right, and you’re wanting him more and more with each drink that passes your lips.

Then, out of nowhere, Tony leans in close to whisper something in your ear, and you’re getting full-body goosebumps when his voice drifts through the air like the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard, his voice soft as silk as he asks you a question. Not that you know what he’s saying when he’s this close, as your brain has gone into stand-by mode, every function of your body running on autopilot now.

“Mind catching some fresh air, Beautiful?” Tony whispers in your ear, his warm breath ghosting over the shell as you hold your glass tight, your eyes slipping shut as you listen to him. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in a crowded bar, you’d definitely let out a deep moan at the sound of his voice, but you have just enough self-control left to not let that happen.

Once the words settle in your fuzzy brain, you nod slowly as you look into his eyes, the brown of his irises looking more beautiful than ever. For a moment, there’s nothing but you and him, all the voices drowned out as you’re getting lost in each other. Natasha cannot get enough of the sight in front of her, snapping a few photos with a wide grin as she looks at what’s happening between you two.

Eventually, Tony manages to rip his gaze away - much to your dismay, you could’ve stared into his eyes for the rest of the evening if he’d let you - to get up, his large, calloused hand outstretched in order to take your soft, small one. A zap of electricity shoots through your body as you make contact, a soft gasp falling from your lips. When you rise on your feet, he steadies you, as the high heels you’re wearing are not really working in your favor.

“Steady there, Beautiful,” he says as he encloses his hand around yours, holding it the entire time you’re both walking to the front door of the bar, the cool air already filling the room as you’re closer to the outside world. Holding his hand feels nothing short of right, and you can’t help but want to touch more of him, in any way you can. Running your fingertips over his muscles, letting your fingers glide through his messy hair, or wrapping your hand around his length as he groans deeply.

“I’ve been thinking about you, a lot,” Tony says as soon as you’re both outside, effectively pulling you out of your dirty daydream. For a moment, your brain is failing to comprehend what he’s saying, and you look at him with a goofy look as you try to understand what he means by it. Being this close to the man you love, combined with the alcohol you’ve consumed already, is taking a toll on your brain, though you’re trying your hardest to get it to work. Even if just for this conversation.

“Really?” Your voice is soft as you look at him, his heart swelling with love as he sees a sparkle in your eyes at his words.

“Hm-hmm. Been thinking about your pretty face, and your stunningly beautiful body.” As soon as the words leave his lips, he turns bright red at his confession, and you’re left with your mouth agape, his honesty bringing a fire to your cheeks as well as between your thighs. While Tony is known for being brutally honest - sometimes to a fault - you have never been on the receiving end of these kinds of comments before.

“You’re beautiful too, Tony. You’re a sight for sore eyes actually.” You reach out to touch his arc reactor and the muscles it’s encompassed by, but before your hand can make contact with his body he wraps his hand around your wrist , pulling you closer until there’s once again only a few inches between you both. Just like when you were trapped in the closet a month ago.

“You know what else I’ve been thinking about?” You shake your head, and he smirks before telling you exactly what’s been on his mind.

“The softness of your lips when we’re kissing, and how you will taste. The way we will fight over dominance with our tongues until there’s no air left in our lungs. Me pulling you closer until there’s no space left, and the way your fingers will pull my hair when we’re so hot and bothered that we cannot stop each other from ripping off clothes.”

As if your body is running on autopilot, you reach up to let your fingers glide into his hair, a soft groan leaving his lips as you do. While you’re not pulling yet, Tony’s pupils get bigger until they’ve taken over almost the entirety of his irises, lust visible as he pulls you flush against his body. His lips are mere millimeters from yours when you hear the door swing open, and a very recognizable voice cheers your names in excitement when she sees you both.

"Y/N! Tony! I missed you guys, you were suddenly gone and now here you are again!” Natasha exclaims excitedly, but you can’t help but feel disappointed when you step away from Tony, the heat of the moment you two shared is now gone. While you love her with all your heart, you wish she hadn’t interrupted you, as this would have been a perfect moment otherwise.

From the moment you and Tony have become mission partners, the bond between you also grew stronger, and there’s not a single person who you trust more than the man sitting beside you as you’re returning from a mission together. With this, his protectiveness has also grown, and not just on the battlefield, but outside of it as well. He’s always looking out for you wherever you two go, and this mission wasn’t any different.

“I can’t believe you actually ran into that building to help that man. It was on fire for crying out loud!” Tony says as he puts the Quinjet on autopilot. You shrug as you get comfortable in the seat next to him, your legs stretched out as you’re taking full advantage of the leg room.

“You would’ve done the same thing, Tony, don’t act like you wouldn’t. We both know I did the right thing by saving him, and I got out of the house unscathed,” you tell him matter-of-factly, and even though he knows you’re right, he doesn’t like it when you put yourself in situations like this, and he’s not afraid to let you know about this, either.

“That may be so, but I still think I should’ve gone in instead of you. At least I have a suit that protects me,” he bounces back at you, and you know he’s right. Still, you’re proud of what you have accomplished, and you close your eyes as you take a moment to yourself. It’s become a bit of a ritual as you take the time to decompress, but there’s something else on your mind that you can’t shake off.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?” The hum is soft as he turns his head to face you, a small smile on his lips as he takes in your beauty.

“Do you ever think about that night at the bar? And what might have happened if Natasha didn’t interrupt us?” The nerves are swirling through your stomach, and it feels like the butterflies are having a good time in there as you meet his gaze. Your heartbeat rises, and your cheeks start to burn as you fiddle with your fingers to distract yourself just a little.

In turn, Tony’s cheeks turn bright red at your question, because he has thought about that moment a lot, and he has never been able to find a way to bring it up without completely embarrassing himself. There’s a silence between you two as he thinks over his answers, and you’re not at all disappointed by his words.

“I have thought about it a lot, actually. It’s been on my mind nearly 24/7, and it sometimes makes me unable to function normally. When I’m doing very simple things like taking a shower or eating some breakfast in my lab you’re always on my mind, but when I’m working on my suit or my arc reactor, you’re also the main thing on my mind. It’s all-consuming in the best way possible, and I honestly wouldn’t want it any other way,” he says as he looks at you with an admiring gaze.

“And… And what is it you think about? When you think about me, I mean?” Before you can think about it, your curiosity takes over as you ask the question, and Tony blushes even harder, the redness now creeping to his neck as he rearranges his position so he can get comfortable again.

“What I mainly think about is what life looks like with you as my girlfriend, and as my wife. From the first  moment I met you, I knew I would get to marry you. No matter how long it would take, or how many people I would have to fight in order for it to come true. But-” he hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should lay out the rest of his thoughts.

“But?”

“But I also think about you carrying my babies. How gorgeous you’ll look when you’re pregnant with my babies, and a giant rock on your finger that is fit for a queen. Because that’s exactly what you are, Beautiful. You’re the Queen in my world, and I think you deserve to be treated like one, too. And there’s nothing more I would love than to take you out on a date so I can show you what that feels like. Even if it’s just for one night, I want to show you how I will treat you when you’re mine, and show you how a Queen is treated.”

For a long moment you take the time to think it over in your head, though you deep inside already know the answer. There’s nothing more you want than everything Tony is willing to offer you.

“I’d love to share a night with you so you can show me what it’s like. It’ll be a dream come true,” you say with a broad smile, a sparkle in your eyes that is only reserved for the man you love. Tony smiles widely too, his eyes shining back at you with nothing but pure love, and you still can’t believe you’ll actually go on a date with your mission partner and best friend.

Then, he reaches for your hand, and you place it in his before he brings it to his lips, his facial hair tickling slightly as he presses a soft kiss on it. Your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest at the gesture, your cheeks on fire as you look at everything that’s happening. Before either one of you can say anything, JARVIS lets you both know that you’re about to land, and Tony returns to handling the Quinjet again, while you’re on cloud nine.

In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, you and Tony could barely stay apart from one another. Every waking moment you two spend together, whether it is in his lab, the gym or anywhere else doing your own thing, you two are inseparable. Now, the evening before Valentine’s Day, you have offered to watch a romantic comedy with all the Avengers, though you barely have eyes for the screen.

“I still can’t believe you said yes to going on a date with me,” Tony whispers in your ear as you’re cuddled up in the back of the theater room with him. All the others are sprawled out in front of you watching the screen, but you’re still trying to keep as quiet as possible, so you won’t attract any attention to yourself.

He keeps peppering your cheek in kisses to try and make you giggle, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha as she looked over a couple of times, but decided against saying anything. She’s more than happy to see you two this close, especially after you told her all about the date you’ll go on tomorrow.

“It’s impossible to say no to you, Tony. I would be stupid if I said anything other than yes,” you tell him, and his cheeks turn red, which thanks to the darkness in the room is barely noticeable. Still, he feels the burning on his cheeks, and you can’t help but smile up at him with a loving gaze. He’s head over heels in love with you, and it is becoming more clear with every passing second.

“I’m glad you think so, Beautiful, but you’re always allowed to say no if I ever do something you’re not comfortable with. You know that, right?” he asks, his tone serious as he looks at you. As you try and suppress the whimper that wants to escape, you nod in response, and he smiles before gently kissing your forehead.

Then, he pulls you closer against him, your hand resting on his arc reactor while he is drawing abstract figures on your arm. The rest of the movie you two spend in each other’s arms, and when you fall asleep in the last stretch of the movie, Tony smiles before kissing the top of your head and whispering a soft ‘sleep well, Beautiful.’

“I’m going to bring Y/N to her room, she fell asleep during the movie so I will see you all later,” Tony says as he holds you in his arms bridal style. The entire trip to your room is going too quickly for his liking, but as soon as he’s tucked you into bed, he leans in for a last kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds before he leaves again.

“Sleep well, my beautiful Angel. I love you,” he whispers before getting up and leaving your room, not knowing you heard him say that, though you will never admit it to anyone. This will forever be between you and him, and you can’t stop smiling until you finally fall asleep again, excitement for your date tomorrow even more present now.

The next morning, you’ve decided to have brunch with Natasha in your room in anticipation of the date with Tony, so you can talk through your gameplan, as well as get ready with her. From the moment you joined the Avengers, she has been very helpful and kind, and it has grown into a strong friendship over time. Now, you two spend all the time you’re not with Tony together, though it hasn’t been as often after Tony asked you out.

Right when you’re done getting dressed - a pair of sport leggings and Tony’s MIT hoodie being your outfit of choice - you hear a few knocks on your door, but the person on the other side isn’t who you were expecting.

“Tony? Why- I mean, hi. What are you doing here?” you ask in bewilderment, as you were expecting Natasha to be standing in his spot. Still, you’re more than happy to see him, even if it’s unexpected.

“I couldn’t wait until tonight to see you, Beautiful. I’ve been tinkering in my lab nearly the entire night out of excitement, and I… well… I wanted to see you,” he admits shyly, his cheeks reddening once more. The flush on them makes his boyish charm more present than ever, your heart beating even faster as you look at him. It’s impossible not to be in love with him, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of him.

“It’s okay, Tony. I’m actually glad you stopped by because I was thinking of going down to your lab later to ask you what I should wear tonight,” while it wasn’t completely untrue, it wasn’t the sole reason you were planning on heading down there later. You were also hoping to see him before tonight as well, to see how excited he is for tonight.

“Well- uhm-” he rubs the back of his neck nervously as he thinks of an answer that isn’t ‘nothing’, the thought of you being nude in front of him being one that’s hard to push to the back of his mind.

“I think you should wear whatever you feel most beautiful and confident in. If you want to show up in a pair of pajamas that’s okay, but if you want to show up in the tightest dress and highest heels you own that’s fine too.” The blush on his cheeks now spreads to his neck and chest as he tries his hardest to maintain eye contact with you, but it’s difficult when you set every single inch of him on fire.

“In that case, I think I have a nice outfit in mind for tonight. But don’t worry, I won’t show up in pajamas, I’ll save that for movie nights when I fall asleep again,” you tell him with a wink, and he smiles at the thought of you falling asleep by his side not too long ago.

“Perfect. I- uhm… I should go and- and get ready.” Before you can say goodbye, Tony has practically bolted out of your room, though you don’t know it’s to hide the fact that he’s been getting harder and harder at the thought of seeing you in a tight dress and high heels. His mind has gone into overdrive, and he can’t help but give himself a hand when he’s in his penthouse, your name a chant throughout the air the entire time.

Now, Tony’s cheeks are flushed for a completely different reason when he steps into the shower, the thought of you never quite leaving his mind. As soon as he’s done he’s running around his penthouse to get everything ready for tonight, and the private chef he hired to cook a delicious dinner arrives not long after, giving him a little piece of mind.

In the meantime, Natasha has finally shown up at your apartment, armed with two large coffees and a large breakfast spread to get you both through the entire process of getting ready. After many hours of gossip, reassurance and cheerleading, you’re finally ready for your date, and you’re getting increasingly nervous the closer it gets. As you’re wearing a pair of black jeans, a beautifully dark red, lacey top and black heels, combined with a dark make-up look with dark red lips, you couldn’t feel more confident, all due to Natasha’s help.

“Good luck tonight, and I don’t expect to see you anytime soon,” she says with a wink, as you two have been discussing the possibility of sleeping over at Tony’s apartment after the date. While it’s not a given it’ll happen, you still like to be prepared all the same, and now it’s officially time to head up to Tony’s penthouse.

As the elevator takes you up there, Tony is rocking back and forth on his feet, nerves settling in as he looks at his watch at every possible moment. Even though there’s still 10 minutes before you two said you would be there, he’s already impatiently waiting by the elevator, hoping you will be early. Much to his delight you are indeed early, and the elevator doors open to a beautiful sight of fairy-lights and dimmed lighting, giving it a romantic look.

And then, there’s Tony. He’s dressed from head to toe in a black suit, though his glasses are the exception as he went for a beautiful, dark red pair that compliments your outfit perfectly. It’s as if it was meant to be, and you’re curious what else this night has in store for you.

“Wow…” is the first thing you hear when the elevator doors open. In front of you is Tony who is dressed like a true god, a small, rectangular box in his hands as he takes his time to take in the sight of you in front of him. A small smile slowly spreads on his face as you step in, your heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of your chest with every step you take.

“You look amazing tonight. Dare I say, you look Beautiful,” he says with his signature smirk and a suggestive wink, your cheeks burning from his compliment and the clever use of the nickname he only reserves for you. You whisper a small thank you as you step closer, and you’re greeted by Tony as he places a soft kiss on your heated cheek. As he pulls back, you can’t stop smiling at the feeling of it, happiness filling every single inch of your being.

“I got you something as a little surprise. And as a thank you for agreeing to this date, as well.”

As he hands you the small box, you can’t open it quick enough for your liking, curiosity building as you reveal a necklace with a small version of his first arc reactor on it, of which the big one is proudly displayed in his office after Pepper gifted it to him with the inscription “Proof that Tony Stark has a heart”. It’s where your bond started, and you chuckle as you take a good look at it.

“I can’t believe you got me a miniature version of your arc reactor, Tony! Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore it, but I also can’t believe you would do something like this for…well… me,” you say softly as you close the box, a softness in your eyes that’s only reserved for the man in front of you. His brows are furrowed as he takes in your words, as he can sense a bit of self consciousness in your words.

Without saying a word, he gently cups your cheeks to raise your gaze to meet his, the warmth of your cheeks feeling nice against his large, calloused hands.

“There’s not a single thing on this earth I wouldn’t do for you, Beautiful. If you’d ask me to go to the other side of the world I would without a second thought. If you’d ask me to go to the moon and back ten times in a day, I’ll figure out a way to do it. I’m giving you the necklace because you deserve it, and it reminds me of where it- where we started. It’s a token of my appreciation, and a reminder of why we’re here tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whisper almost inaudibly, but Tony smiles before leaning in and placing a lingering kiss on your forehead. Your eyes slip shut as you hold the box in your hands, and you can’t help but let out a sigh when he lets you go, the warmth of his lips gone with him as he takes a step back. You couldn’t have wished for a better start of your date, and you’re looking forward to everything else he has planned.

“Will you do me the honor of following me to the dining room? I ensured we will have the most delicious dinner you will have ever had, and I can’t wait to hear all your thoughts on it,” he says, and you nod before hooking your arm in his, your hand resting on his bicep as he leads you through his penthouse. There is a low tune playing in the background while the entire penthouse is filled with the most delicious smell of food, but it’s nothing compared to the table you’re seeing.

There’s a white tablecloth that’s decorated with silver and white plates, silver cutlery, red roses and a few candles, and a small menu on each plate that will tell you exactly what you will be enjoying throughout the evening. Then, Tony moves to pull back your chair, and you graciously sit down before he slides it back in, allowing you to be seated first.

During the course of your meal, you and Tony have some light-hearted conversation, but you also discuss some deeper topics like inclusivity in the field of nanotechnology. It’s always been something you have struggled with as a woman in a male dominated field, but Tony has always been an advocate for women in the field of tech.

“Honestly, the worst part of this inclusivity issue is that men assume I’m unintelligent, or at least less intelligent than they are just because I’m a woman. It’s definitely why I keep pushing myself in the field of nanotech and why I wrote the article about nanotechnology in the human body, and while many people have noticed my ‘intelligent’ side as they call it, there’s still many that haven’t, or they’re too ignorant to want to notice.”

As you talk about it, Tony can sense your frustration so he reaches for your hand, and without a second thought you put yours in it to calm yourself down. The way he holds it so lovingly makes you feel less and less angry with every passing second, and the way he attentively listens and nods along is something you’re very grateful for.

“You’ve been working hard all your life, Beautiful, and I’m extremely proud of you for doing so. Inclusivity in the field of tech will always be an issue, but I’m happy to go against that and work with you. You’re the most intelligent and beautiful woman I know. Without you, I might not have been alive to tell the tale of it all, as the earlier versions of my arc reactor could have killed me by now, but I’m here because of you, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“You have practically given me a new lease on life, and I plan to make every single second count. That’s exactly why I would like to dance with you.” He gets up from his chair while still holding your hand, and you get up as well, a large smile on your face as he pulls you on your feet. Then, as you’re getting closer to him, you feel your heartbeat steadily rising, your cheeks heating in excitement at the closeness.

As you slowly sway back and forth, your gazes are locked on one another, a smile on your lips as you enjoy the moment. Not a single care in the world, only you, Tony and the music that fills the room around you. The clicking of your heels on the floor slowly fades away with the music as his eyes go from yours, to your lips and back up, his intention clear as day. Without saying another word, you both lean in, meeting in the middle to experience your first kiss with the man you love.

You two have been building up to this moment for years, and the outcome is even more satisfactory than you could have ever wished as his soft lips work in tandem with yours, everything around you two forgotten. His fingers dig into your hips as you open your mouth, allowing his tongue to dance with yours, a soft moan being swallowed as he pulls you closer against his body. The temperature in the room slowly rises as you gently rake your nails through the hair on the nape of his neck, and the sexual tension between you is finally reaching an all-time high.

“God, I’ve been dying to feel your lips against mine, Beautiful - it was like tasting heaven. And I can’t help but notice that you say you don’t love me, but you kissed me back like you did,” he says in a playful tone, referencing all the times you have told everyone you’re not in love with him. Each time someone asked about it, you always said you love him like a best friend or a brother, but nothing could be further from the truth, because you’ve been in love with Tony for years now.

“I- I do love you, Tony. I have, for as long as I can remember, and I’m stupid for not saying anything sooner-”

Before you can finish your sentence, your air is kicked from your lungs as he cups your cheeks and kisses you again, effectively making you shut your mouth in the best way possible. You melt in his hold as you two take your time to explore each other’s mouths, the feeling of desire growing with every passing second. A pang of disappointment fills your chest when he pulls back again, though it won’t last long.

“I love you too, Beautiful. I love the way you smile and how you laugh when I make silly jokes. I love how your nose scrunches when you’re deep in thought or concentrated, but most of all, I love you. I’ve wanted to say this for such a long time, and I’m glad the universe finally let us do our thing,” he says with a smile, making you laugh out loud.

This moment has been a long time coming, but it has been worth every single second of the wait now that you’re finally telling him about your true feelings.

The moment you felt Tony’s mattress underneath you is one you often fantasize about in moments of need, as it has given you a whole lot of pleasure each time. Still, none of those moments will ever live up to the amount of pleasure he’s about to give you tonight, as he has made it his mission to make your first time one never to forget. After slowly peeling every last layer of your clothes - leaving you entirely bare for him - he does the same to himself, and you can’t help but bite your lip as he pulls down his pants.

“You like what you see, don’t you?” he asks, his confidence shooting to an all-time high as he sees the look of lust on your face. Every last inch of his long, thick cock is beautifully displayed between his thick thighs, your eyes roaming over the veins running all along making you want to give him the blowjob of his life before swallowing every last drop of his sweet cum as he shouts your name.

“You know I do,” you say as you slide towards the edge of the bed, your pussy dripping and your nipples pebbling as you get closer to where you want to touch him most. Nothing will ever compare to his beauty, but when the moonlight hits him the way it does now, he looks downright angelic.

“Can I have a little taste before we move on?” you ask softly, a hint of innocence in your voice he can’t resist.

“Fuck, if you keep this up, I won’t last long.” His words are followed by a deep groan as you reach out to him, your hand barely wrapping around the base of his cock. For a moment you keep it there as you look up in order to look at Tony’s reaction. His eyes are shut as his hands are balled up by his side, though the muscles in his abdomen are tensed as he tries his hardest to not cum yet.

Without saying a single word, you make a move that nearly drives Tony up the wall of pleasure as you start stroking him from the root of his length to his tip, while you take his soft, pink tip in your mouth to suck away the beads of pre-cum, a soft moan leaving your lips as you do. In an automatic move, he reaches for your head to keep you there but also ground himself, as he didn’t expect this in the slightest.

His head falls back as he groans deeply with his teeth clenched, his hips moving on their own volition as he thrusts his length into your mouth. The feeling of your mouth and hand on his cock are overwhelming in the best way possible, and it is better than anything he could have ever imagined. Your hand slowly makes its way up and down the hard flesh, his veins adorning it beautifully as you move the velvety skin back and forth.

“Tastes so good,” you murmur before taking him into your mouth again, slowly working more and more into your mouth as he tries his hardest to keep his orgasm away. The heat of your mouth compared to the softness of his hand and the nails digging into his ass are ensuring his brain turns off, and all he can do is moan, groan and chant your name as you work him towards his first orgasm of the evening.

“Please- Just- fuck! Just the tip, Beautiful. Give some love to the tip and I’ll cum for you, give you every last drop of my cum like you want,” he pants, his chest rising and falling quickly as you look up at him, your mouth still enclosed around his cock. You hum, which makes an electric spark shoot down his spine, before pulling back and doing exactly as he asks.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises you, making you moan as you clench your thighs, the praise immediately going to your desperate pussy. While you’ve always had a thing for praise, it’s even more powerful coming from Tony, which he has stored in the back of his mind for future reference. As soon as you’re in position, he instructs you to play with his balls the way he likes, and with a deep groan you can feel and taste the first spurts of his warm cum on your tongue.

“Hmmm, you’re such a good girl for me! Following my instructions so well, playing with my balls as you suck on the tip. Gonna give you all my cum, Beautiful, you can have it all to swallow and enjoy.” He takes his time to work himself through his orgasm as you happily swallow every last drop of his large load, a satisfied smile on your lips when you finally pull back to release his now soft cock.

“And here I thought I couldn’t possibly love you more than I already did,” Tony says as he lifts your chin with his index finger, his lips capturing yours as he bends over for a mindblowing kiss that has him moaning at the taste of himself in your mouth.

“Such a beautiful girl who knows how to put her mouth to good use in more than one way, I have to say, I’m definitely the luckiest guy on Earth to be spending my night with you,” he says as he guides you to lie back on the bed, taking his place between your now spread legs in the process. The entire time, his gaze is locked on your dripping, pink pussy as he licks his lips, anticipation going through his entire body as he takes his time admiring you.

Once you find a comfortable spot on the bed, your head on the pillows and your legs spread as wide as you can to accommodate the man between them, he smiles up at you before moving any further. He takes in the moment before he’s about to ruin you in the best way possible, wanting to commit this moment of beauty to memory as the moonlight highlights your soft skin beautifully through the large floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse.

“Ready to be the subject of the best body worship you’ve ever experienced? This sweet, delicious, dripping pussy and amazing body deserve to be worshipped every single day, and I want to show you exactly how I’d do it if you’re mine,” he offers, and you nod with burning cheeks from his admiring gaze. Still, you can’t help but notice he said if you’re his, because you’ve always been his from the moment you met.

“I am yours, Tony,” you say softly, and his gaze immediately snaps up to meet yours.

“I always have been wholeheartedly yours. There’s no one else I want more than you, and no one else I’m more in love with than you. I love you, Tony, and I want to grow old with you.”

For a long moment, the words hang in between you two as he lets the words settle in, but when it finally does he smiles widely, his cheeks turning red from excitement and knowing you’re his girlfriend, and he’s your boyfriend. His dream is coming true, and your Valentine’s Day has quickly turned into one to never forget. As you push yourself forward to lean on your elbows, you lean in to let your fingers glide over his hot cheeks, you can’t help but smile.

“I love making you so flustered, you get so cute when you’re like this,” you tell him, which causes the flush on his cheeks to intensify even more, though in response he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue dragging a long stripe from your dripping entrance to your sensitive clit, his facial hair adding the perfect amount of stimulation as you fall on your back with a loud moan of his name.

His arms wrap around your thighs to hold you in place as he expertly works his magic on your clit, his lips wrapping around and sucking when his tongue isn’t delving into your wanting pussy, your walls clenching and pulsing around him as your body grinds against his face while every last thought of yours melts away under his touch.

“Tony-” His name sounds like honey as it falls from your lips when you’re nearing your high.

“I- I want you to keep- keep going forever!” you nearly scream as he lets one of your thighs go in order to work two of his thick digits into your pussy, which is exactly what sends you over the edge. His expertly timed thrusts of his fingers together with the stimulation on your sensitive clit has you screaming his name and clutching to the sheets as your back arches, pushing you even closer to his face as he works you through a mindblowing, trembling orgasm.

While you thought you have had amazing orgasms before, you have never experienced anything like you are now with Tony, as it is starting to become an out-of-body experience. Your mind has also gone entirely blank as you try to catch your breath, and you only move after you feel Tony flopping down on the bed beside you, pulling you against his side so you can catch up with everything that’s happening.

“Having fun so far, Beautiful?” he asks as he places kisses on your head, and you nod with a shy smile as you let your fingers glide over his chest and the scars surrounding his arc reactor. The warmth of his body against yours makes your eyes feel heavy, and together with the abstract figures he’s drawing on your soft skin, you’re soon finding yourself in a light slumber in his arms.

After you’ve woken up for your sleep - during which Tony has not left your side for a single second - the two of you had a talk about what the rest of the night will have in store for you, and you expressed wanting to go a step further, but on one condition.

“I- uhm… I hope it’s okay with you, but I prefer having sex with a condom-” is all you can say before Tony stops you in your sentence.

“Beautiful, I’m sorry for interrupting you, but I need you to know something, okay? There’s not a single thing I would do without your consent. If you told me you’d want to go take a shower and go to sleep I would be more than happy to turn it on, wash your hair and dry you off at the end, and if you’d tell me you’d rather sleep in your own room than do anything else, that’s also okay. Yes, I am completely okay with using a condom, as your pleasure and safety comes before anything I want. Okay?"

His thumb rubs your cheekbone as he’s on his side, his voice soft as he explains his side of it.

“Okay. Then… Then I’d be more comfortable if we use a condom for the first time. I love you deeply, Tony, and one day I will definitely want to experience what it’s like to make love without one, but tonight is not going to be that night. What do you think?”

“I think that it’s perfect,” he whispers before placing a kiss on your forehead, making you smile before he turns onto his other side to pull a condom from his nightstand. He quickly rips open the package before stroking his half-hard cock to full hardness - for which he only needs three strokes at the sight of you - and rolling it on, effectively protecting both of you before your official first time.

“I love you, Beautiful. And I promise to go slow, okay? If anything hurts, or you want to stop, please let me know and I’ll stop immediately. How does that sound?”

“Perfect.” He leans down to capture your lips with his, but instead of giving you the kiss you were expecting he nibbles on your bottom lip, which has you clutching onto his arms before he has even done anything. When he pulls back, you immediately catch his gaze, your pupils blown with lust as he looks at you. Then, like a true gentleman, he takes his time sliding in for the first time, constantly checking in as he does.

“How’re you feeling, Beautiful?” he asks as he’s fully inside you, your pussy gripping him like a vice as he allows you to get used to every inch of him inside you. The fact that he’s taken his time and kept talking you through it all has you floating on cloud nine, and you don’t ever want to come down if he keeps treating you the way he is now.

“Good,” you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. You reach up to cup his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss that leaves you both breathless by the time he pulls back. Every single one of your senses is turned to its highest capacity in this moment, and your entire body feels like it’s on fire in the best way possible as he gently starts thrusting, earning himself a long moan in response.

“You feel so fucking good, Beautiful. Feels like heaven,” he says as he nuzzles his face into your neck, his body working in tandem with yours as he lavishes the sensitive skin of your neck with small kisses. Your hands slide into his hair, and when he picks up the pace of his thrusts, you tug on the roots, making your boyfriend groan deeply in response.

“Do that again, please! Pull my hair again,” he nearly begs, and you do as he asks while he keeps upping the pace of his thrusts. Each time he hits your sweet spot with his cock, you moan his name louder and louder while also tugging harder until you’re on the brink of another orgasm, needing a few more thrusts to fall over the edge.

“Pull my hair, Beautiful. I’m so fucking close- Pull it and I’ll cum with you,” he pants in time with his thrusts, his body adorned with a thin layer of sweat as he bed starts to creak louder, too. The only thing you can think about is Tony and the way he makes you feel as you’re close to your climax. With one last pull on his dark locks, he screams your name as he fills the condom he’s wearing, wishing he could fuck it into you, instead.

“Yeah, that’s it! Cum on my cock, squeezing me like a vice. Good fucking girl,” he praises you while trying not to crush you under his weight as he rides out both your orgasms. You’re trembling from the force of the orgasm washing over you, and the stars you saw on the edges of your vision slowly disappear when you’re coming back to earth, too, your breathing still ragged as you’re holding onto Tony.

“I love you, Beautiful. So, so much. Wish I’d said something much sooner,” he says as he presses his forehead against yours. The love, adoration and lust are all still visible in his gaze, but you couldn’t agree more. You also wish you had said something sooner, as you’re finally able to live your dream with Tony by your side as your partner.

One of the most important parts of intimacy for both you and Tony is aftercare, during which you can both decompress and catch your breath after everything that just happened. Your first time with Tony was nothing short of spectacular, and you can’t help but look back at everything while you’re snuggled in his arms while the hot water of the bath he has drawn is keeping you warm, while simultaneously relaxing your sore muscles and joints.

“I still can’t really believe we just did that. We had sex for the first time together! Sex! It’s not like I never fantasized about it, but to know I actually got to share this intimate part of myself with you is… beautiful,” you say with a smile, thinking about all the times he has used that word to describe you.

“Hmm, you have fantasized about us, huh? And what else has been going on in that brain of yours aside from our work together? Now you got me curious what my girlfriend thinks about when I’m not with her,” he says as he kisses your temple, a goofy grin on his face the entire time.

“If you must know, I’ve been thinking about what it would be like if we did it in all sorts of positions and in different places, too. The shower, your lab,” as you admit that last part, you can’t help but blush as it is where you usually spend most time with him. It’s become his natural habitat of sorts, and each time you think about what it would be like to have sex with him in there, you can’t help but touch yourself to the thought.

“Maybe we should put it on a list of adventures. Having sex in my lab,” Tony says suggestively as he rubs your thighs, his thumbs caressing the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs. It leads to full-body goosebumps, and you’re already looking forward to this fantasy becoming a reality.

“Yeah,” you say as your eyes slip shut, the feeling of his hands on you being enough to melt every thought away. The rest of the night, you and Tony keep feeding each other the fruits he has brought between sharing more fantasies and stories, making the night come to a perfect ending. As soon as the bath water started turning cold, you both got out before drying off and heading back to his king size bed, where you will enjoy more cuddles before falling asleep again in his arms.

The next morning, you’re woken up by the sun illuminating the bedroom through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and you can’t help but look at your boyfriend as the sun makes his skin look like a golden sculpture of pure perfection. His chest rises and falls with every breath, his arc reactor shining beautifully in the sun’s warm rays as well.

“Good morning, Beautiful,” you hear after a while, and you instantly smile before looking over at Tony as he’s still waking up. He’s never been a morning person, but seeing you first thing in the morning shifts his mood drastically, as he doesn’t mind waking up early as he sees you.

“Good morning,” you whisper before leaning in and giving him a lingering kiss, the events of last night still fresh on your mind. His arms wrap around you to pull you on top of him with a squeal, making him chuckle as you get comfortable.

“You were much too far away for my liking. Figured I’d do something about it,” he says, and you smile before leaning in for more kisses. This is something you can both get used to, and the mornings suddenly got a whole lot better now that you’re waking up next to the love of your life.

“How did you sleep? I’m sure it must have been nice to not sleep alone in this ginormous bed of yours,” you tease him, and he nods.

“I slept amazing, but I have a feeling that the lovemaking we did last night also had something to do with that. I couldn’t have wished for a more perfect first time. And to top it all off, now I don’t have to think of ridiculous reasons to see you. Now I can just go and see my girlfriend whenever I miss her, which is going to be all the time, by the way.”

“I’ll miss you all the time too, so I’m happy to see you even more now,” you seal your words with another kiss, but then you suddenly remember the plans you had made with Natasha, and you scramble out of bed as quickly as you can, leaving Tony lying there alone and a little confused about what’s going on.

“I- I’m sorry for getting out of bed like this, but I promised Natasha I would have breakfast with her to talk… well… to talk about our date, and I’m already 2 hours late!” you say with bright red cheeks as you pull on one of Tony’s boxer briefs - your own panties completely ruined from last night - and one of his oversized hoodies.

“Beautiful, can you come here for a moment?” he asks as he’s sitting up with his legs thrown over the side of the bed, and you stop in your tracks before looking at him. As you go to stand between his legs, he rubs his large hands over the backs over your thighs and ass to reassure you, and calm your thoughts down, as well.

“I’m pretty sure Natasha knows exactly where you are. She’s been trying to get us to hook up for a long time, so I think she’ll be very understanding of you being late. She’s not an unreasonable person. And I know for a fact she’s been spending the night with someone else as well, so you’re going to be totally fine. I promise.”

He always knows exactly the right thing to say, and you sigh softly before letting your fingers glide through his messy hair. 

“I’m still sorry for rushing out of bed the way I did. I didn’t mean to startle you,” you say, and he smiles at you with nothing but love in his gaze.

“It’s okay, Beautiful. I promise. Now, I would like to get my kisses before you run off and tell Natasha all about our date. I love you, and I can’t wait to see you again tonight during dinner,” he says, and you bend down to capture his lips with a smile, already looking forward to the moment you get to see him again. After a few last kisses you grab your stuff - giving Tony a perfect look at your ass as you do - and you head down to your apartment to get changed, and much to your surprise you run into Natasha as she’s on her way to her own room, too.

“It looks like we both have a lot to catch up on, huh?” you say jokingly, and she smiles widely before slipping past you and into her room. After a quick change into something more comfortable you head to the kitchen to grab some breakfast foods and coffee, ready to take them to Natasha’s room where you two can gossip all day.

“So?” is the first thing she says as soon as you’re in her room.

“So, I think I deserve to know who you spent the night with. I’ve rarely seen you this happy while sneaking into your room,” you say, to which she nods with a deep red blush on her cheeks. Her hair is pulled out of her face with a loose ponytail, which means she can’t hide behind her fiery red hair like she usually does.

“Fine, I spent the night with Bruce. Are you happy now?”

“I’m definitely happy, but I’d be even happier if you tell me everything about what happened! You two have been pining after one another for forever, so there must have been something in the air last night! First me and Tony, and now you and Bruce?!” This catches her attention at the mention of you and Tony, and it’s your turn to blush like crazy.

“You and Tony, hm? So you’re together?” You answer her question with a nod and a broad smile before gesturing for her to continue her story about her night with Bruce.

“I’m happy for you, Detka. You deserve to be loved by someone as amazing as Tony,” she smiles before grabbing one of the pastries you brought and getting into every last detail of her night with Bruce. It was almost as beautiful as your night with Tony, because nothing will ever top the experience you two shared last night. Well, until the day you find out you’ll become a Mom, but that’s something for the future-you to think about.

Now, you’re basking in the glory of your new relationship with the man you love.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Can I request #94 ☁️ with Jack Hughes?

For some reason this prompt was really hard for me to write. Everything my brain was coming up was super dark, so I hope you like this nonnie. Also I hope you don't mind I changed "they" to "someone"

Drabble Masterlist

"Did they hurt you?"

When you walked into the club, all you wanted to do was have a few drinks with your friends and dance the night away. All you wanted was a few hours disconnected from the world to forget about the stress of the week and the stupid fight you got in with your boyfriend Jack. Instead, you somehow lost your friends in the crowd on the dance floor. Suddenly alone and a little drunk despite only having a few drinks. All you could feel is your quickened heartbeat as you tried to push your way through the crowd. The club had way too many people and suddenly you regretted even leaving your little apartment. You were craving air, somehow you were pushed to the ground in the mush-pit that was the dance floor. Finally crawling back up, you turned your body and pushed yourself through the crowd.

It took you until you were outside to realize that your fishnet stockings were ripped in multiple places, your makeup was smudged from the sweat of being inside the hot club and your hands were covered in little cuts from people stepping on your hands. Standing outside you could feel the crispy cold air from the beginning of fall in New Jersey. Without even thinking you pulled out your phone and ordered an Uber to the one place you felt most safe.

Jack opened the door in shock to see you. Usually when you both had a fight you at least let each other cool off for a night. But once he took in your appearance, your slightly ripped clothes, the dried blood on your hands, the way you weren't breathing evenly his stomach dropped as he pulled you into his arms. He slightly kicked the door shut with his foot as he held you in the small entry of his apartment. As soon as you felt his arms wrap around your body, you clenched onto his t-shirt with your hands and fell into him as you sobbed. Your emotions from being intoxicated plus almost having a small anxiety attack in the club.

Without even thinking picked you up, automatically you wrapped your legs around his waist. One of his arms moving to pet your messy hair as he cooed in your ear. "shh baby, shh it's alright baby. your safe baby. promise." His promise making you cry a little harder maybe out of relief for knowing it's true. With your eyes closed and your head tucked into Jack's neck you didn't even know where he was carrying you until you felt him try to put you down.

"no. no. no" speaking for the first time since you got here. Jack held you tighter trying to reassure you that you were okay.

"baby I'm just gonna let you sit on the sink in the bathroom. I'm gonna wash your makeup off okay, and I wanna clean your hands." he whispered to you softly. Slowly you let Jack sit you down on the end of his sink, still standing between your legs. He reaches behind you in the cabinet next to the mirror and grabs his first aid kit and your makeup wipes he keeps in stock for you. Finally getting a good at your hands his jaw locks suddenly feel anger form in the pit of his stomach. "honey" he cooed at you, lightly grabbing one of your hands and you winced. "Did someone hurt you?" All you could do is nod looking down at your own hands. "Who?" he asked sharply, without a doubt thinking of ways to hunt them down in the moment.

"I got pushed to the ground somehow at the club." you admitted shyly suddenly embarrassed about being pushed around so easily. Jack grabbed an alcohol wipe and started lightly cleaning your hands.

"That's not okay." he said bitterly. "Where were your friends?" Even though he sounded bitter, his touch was soft as he was focused on cleaning your hand and then putting Neosporin on it.

"lost them in the crowd."

Finishing with that hand, he moved on to the next without saying a word. Then he threw away all the trash from cleaning your hands and pulled out a makeup wipe. He still hadn't spoken but you didn't need him to, just the fact that he was the one cleaning you up made you feel better. His eyebrows were creased focusing on getting your stubborn makeup off without having to put too much pressure on your face. His tongue slightly sticking out as he grabbed another makeup wipe, you closed your eyes your body relaxing to the feeling.

"baby?" Jack asked softly.

"hmm"

"Gotta make sure you don't have any other cuts. Do you wanna change here or in my room?" He asked his arms softly wrapping around you as you felt yourself craving sleep.

"bed. I wanna go to bed." you whined. Jack lightly chuckled. He carried you to his bed lightly sitting you down, without hesitation you flopped onto the bed.

"Oh no you don't" Jack said as he took your arm to pull you back up to sitting.

"I wanna go to bed." you complained again.

"And we can once you change." he reasoned.

"too tired you do it." you mumbled too tired to even open your eyes.

"okay honey if that's what you want." lightly kissing your forehead before letting you lay down on the bed, your legs hanging off the edge as Jack got you one of his t-shirts and boxers to change into. You could feel Jack struggling trying to change you but you couldn't bring yourself to change. He found another deep cut on your knee and cleaned it without you even twitching. He knew you were deep in sleep by now.

Finally he cleaned everything up and climbed into bed with you. He pulled you close to him and you slightly moved to form around his body. He didn't know if you were awake or not but he still kissed your forehead. "I'm sorry I wasn't there tonight." he whispered not expecting you to answer.

"It's okay. You cleaned me up and your here now that's more important." you mumbled wrapping your arms around Jack tighter and slipping back into unconsciousness.

[legalmente-loca]

heyy congrats on 100 followers!!! I love ur writing and ur page is so aesthetic btw!

for the drabble thing can I request Dean winchester for number 1? congrats again!

Oh, I know what you want and I will deliver it to you on a silver platter. I WANNA RIDE🤠

@loverslantern you also asked me for this❤️

Prompts: You dressing like a cowgirl

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, riding Dean.

Dean was impatient. He had been sitting on the edge of the bed since you had entered the bathroom several minutes ago. He had no idea what you wanted to show him, but you seemed excited and told him he would enjoy it.

“Sunshine, how much longer should I wait? I’m going to get old here.”

“As if you weren't already.” You said on the other side.

“Okay, that was too much.”

He heard your soft laugh on the other side and felt a warmth in his chest.

“Okay, I'm ready! Close your eyes!”

He sighed and closed them. You opened the door slightly and peeked your head in, wanting to make sure he listened to you. You smiled and walked out, your hands on your hips.

“Open them.”

Nothing could have prepared him for this. He looked you up and down slowly and then back up. You were wearing cowboy boots and a jean skirt so short that your ass was showing, plus a tight leather belt that had a fake gun attached to it. You were wearing a shirt that looked like it had been torn in half and was tied in a knot, your breasts almost exposed. And like the damn cherry on top of a cake, you were wearing a cowboy hat.

He opened his mouth and swallowed.

“I want to ride tonight.” You said.

“Babe, you can ride me like I'm a damn mechanical bull if you like.” He licked his lips and squeezed the growing bulge in his crotch. "Come ‘ere." He growled.

“Oh, God, that's it!” He patted your ass, his hand under your skirt. “You're so good at this... A real cowgirl.”

Your hands behind you holding his calves as you moved your hips against him. His thick cock parting your insides as you moaned repeatedly.

“You feel so damn good, doll. So tight and hot, just for me.”

“Oh, Dean.” You bit your bottom lip and shifted position, leaning forward and starting to bounce on him.

Your ass slapped against his pelvis and made your skin bounce, the tingling in your lower belly increasing in level. You placed your hand around his neck, not squeezing, just circling.

“Yeah, I'm your big bad mechanical bull, darling.” He dug his fingers into the flesh of your ass while he accompanied your rhythm.

He took off your hat and placed it on him before palming one of your breasts through your torn shirt, the knot already undone.

“When we finish this round, you will be the prey I will ride.”

Special Hundred Followers

Dean Winchester Imagines/Headcanons

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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[eroscomet]

Make it Right

Chapter two- Hauting for Home

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Paring: Astrid Deetz x Fem!Ghost!Reader

Warnings: Mentions death, a bit angsty, bad writing. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 3k+

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while to make. I was busy on the weekend; however, I found time to finally finish the chapter for you all! I really do hope you guys enjoy this one! I will try to get a specific schedule for updates on certain stories. If you guys are wondering about updates for 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours,' I will try to update that as soon as possible. I will also be doing a couple drabbles on different characters and or drabbles of characters I've already written for. I would also like to thank you guys so much for all the support you all have been showing me! I am so thankful and grateful for each and every one of you! Thank you so much for every like, reblog, and comment, it means a lot to me!

Not proof read

╰┈➤Series Masterlist

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"You talked to my dad?!" Astrid had exclaimed with an amused smile on her face. There it was, that twinkle in her eye that you had missed so much. She hadn't been very happy recently, with you not around and everything else in her life that had been happening.

"Yeah, when I had first died. I got sent to the immigration office, and what do you know? There he was behind the glass. He's just as kind as you always told me he'd be. Surprisingly, he immediately recognized me. He told me that he had been watching after you and practically watched our love 'blossom,' as he put it." The two of you continued walking outside.

You couldn't help but think about how people must be seeing this. Astrid looked as if she were talking to herself from an outside perspective. Aware of her past, you knew people had a tendency to bully her, so when nearing Miss Shannon's School for Girls, you tried to get her to talk as much so that others wouldn't look at her funny. So, you took up most of the time on the way there, talking as much as she could so that she didn't have time to talk. Which was odd because she was usually the one who'd talk while you'd listen.

"He said he liked me, which is a relief. Sometimes, I feel like your mom is more confused but is trying to be supportive. I mean, remember when I had first come over, and she started talking about how she too 'experimented' as she said. Anyway, that isn't the point. I met your dad, and we actually frequently visited you together. It's funny, sometimes we'd bond over how much we missed you."

Astrid's eyes had furrowed as she had begun to notice that every time she began or wanted to speak, you only spoke faster, almost sputtering out information. A frown tugged at your lips as she had caught on.

"I just don't want people to look at you even more weirder than they already do. If you're talking to yourself, they'll find that an easy target. Try...putting on some headphones and pretending you're on the phone? Or you can just put your phone up to your ear?"

She smiled as she took her phone out of her pocket and brought it up to her ear.

"Thanks, you're right. So, what else did he say about me? Did you see my grandfather? What's the afterlife like?" Astrid felt like she had a million different questions to ask.

"Your dad says he's proud of you and that he sees himself in you all the time. As for your grandpa, no. I mean, I feel as if it's harder to find him since he did lose his head to a shark. The afterlife is a bit weird. I can't tell you much about it since I haven't exactly crossed over. I basically only know what headquarters and a few shops look like. I mean, there's a 'Soul Train' which essentially takes you to the 'Great Beyond,' but I never went because I don't want to risk not being able to watch over you."

You grabbed Astid's shoulders, moving beside her to walk toward the street end of the sidewalk. Even though you were dead, the sidewalk rule never really left you, even while Astrid couldn't even see you.

"Yeah, I figured. I almost can't believe that a shark bite ended his life, I knew my family wasn't normal, but we can't even have a somewhat normal death? The Great Beyond, huh? Soul Train is a clever name though. Does no one know what's on the side?"

"I mean, I've never seen someone leave then come back from the train in the full year, almost two years that I've been here. I'm not taking the risk and crossing anyway, I can't lose you again after we just got back to each other."

"You're right..." Her eyebrows furrowed, her attention on the sidewalk as they continued to walk. She thought to herself for a moment before speaking again.

"So, you don't have any ghost tricks you learned?"

"Of course, you'd ask that, would you be disappointed in me if I said I didn't?"

"I mean, you've been gone for a year almost two, I'd expect you to know at least something to make me feel better for all the time you've been gone."

"Okay, uhhh... I can walk through walls and, I guess, float a bit."

"That sounds like every other ghost."

"Just because i'm a ghost doesn't mean I have super powers, Astrid."

"Just saying."

"I mean, I do have this nasty scar from the accident." You lowered your shirt neckline, showing the scar on the lower part of your neck. Astrid winced at the scar before looking away.

"Right. Weird how all it took was one neck twist for you to die.

"Well, it's more like my neck twisted as if I was a cartoon character that got punched, and my head began spinning-"

"Ew, shut up. Don't talk about it like it's something light."

"I'm sorry, you're right."

It was silent for a bit as you guys walked into the school, Astrid opened one of the doors while you phased right through the other door. Astird put her phone back into her pocket as she walked upstairs and past the other students. You followed after her, your eyebrows furrowing at the other students nearby her dorm. Some of them whispering to each other while giggling.

That's when Astrid opened her dorm room's door, a bedsheet attached to the ceiling by a rope coming straight towards her. The bedsheet makes out a ghost with a 'Boo' sign in its chest area. Astrid stumbled back before turning around and looking at the other girls, who began to burst out into laughter behind her.

"When you're all driving carpool and banging your pilates instructor to fill the empty voids in your life, we'll see who gets the last laugh."

The girls smiles and laughs quickly died as she finished speaking. Astrid turned around as she went into her room, shutting the door behind her. You smiled proudly, a laugh escaping you as you saw the looks on the girls faces as they disburst from Astrid's door.

"Witty as always." You said as you phased through her dorm room's door. The make-shift ghost on the ceiling startling you a bit as you had almost 'ran' into it. Sometimes you forget you're a ghost even if it's been a year.

"They have not toned down with the comments? You had always been careful about this topic, not wanting to bring it up too much with Astrid.

"No." It was a simple and straightforward answer that made you not want to question further. A part of you felt angry that you were helpless to all of it now that you're dead. You had gotten so used to defending her against everyone but now your words would only fall on deaf ears.

You sighed as you plopped yourself onto her dorm room's bed, thinkiing for a moment on how to steer away the conversation of bullying that she obviously did not want to talk about.

"Did you hear that my sister's pregnant? I know that I shouldn't bother looking over them since they're perfectly fine.."

"I'm not surprised."

"She's naming the baby after me."

"God, that's ridiculous! Naming their kid after a relative who isn't even dead yet-" Astrid's voice faltered for a moment. The fact that you were dead and have been for almost two years was still a punch in the gut after all this time.

"That's what I said, baby." You offered her a small smile as you played into the bit that you were still alive for Astrid. She still wanted to make her at least feel a bit better.

'Baby.'

Your words - and your smile, even if it was for her benefit - just made Astrid's heart twist further in her chest.

"You're killing me here."

"Why?" Your head tilted to the side as you looked at her.

"Because you're supposed to be dead." Her voice came out in a strangled whisper as she looked down at the papers scattered on her desk.

You bit your lip, you didn't want to show that what Astrid had said hurt you. Even if you were dead, you still had emotions and feelings. You paused for a moment before deciding to drop the topic.

"So, they're having a baby shower. You should go."

"Oh god, a baby shower? Is it too late to make you disappear again?" Her face had immediately scrunched up with distaste at the idea of being forced to go to a baby shower - especially your self-centered sister's baby shower where she'd name her child after you for her own gain.

"Come on, you couldn't see me for a whole year, and now that you're finally able to, you already want to get rid of me? That's cold, babe, even for you. Even for me who's dead cold. Get it? Huh? Dead cold. Because i'm dead? And i'm cold now because I have no blood. No? Okay."

"Oof, that was horrible." She said as she shook her head and grumbled in response.

"Come on, admit you missed me. I heard all your late-night talks that you thought weren't reaching my ears."

"I did miss you - I've missed you for a whole year." She confessed, sounding a bit surprised by her own confession. The room fell silent, the weight of everything that had happened falling onto the both of them. Neither of them wanted to address it, though, they didn't want to have to deal with it now.

"Did you ever-" She paused for a moment as she thought of the right words to say, "When I'd lay in your bed and mope, were you just...watching me?"

"No, I hated that. I'd still do what I would've done if I were alive. I tried holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear that never got to you."

"Sweet nothings, huh?" She teased, which earned an eye roll from you. Again, the room had fell silent as the two were lost in thought before Astrid spoke again, breaking the silence.

"How bad did it hurt?"

"Uh.. Well... I just remember being on the ground one second, then in the air the next. I landed, and well- You know what. It had hurt for that second that I was alive, but it had been an instant death if anything."

Having to talk about your death wasn't an easy topic. It was a reminder of how quick you had lost it all. The blood in your system, the beat of your heart, Astrid. The sight of you nervously fidgeting with your own fingers made Astrid's heart ache.

"I hate that." She muttered, her voice coming in strained, almost as if she was forcing herself to get the words out.

"I'm sorry." Your words were mumbled as she continued to fidget with your fingers, now more anxiously than before. The apology caused Astrid to shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together. She felt that now was not the time to start breaking down.

"Don't. Don't apologize." She had almost snapped at you as she opened her eyes to shoot a glare at you.

"Okay." You were never one to go against her word, you didn't want to start a fight. Especially not now. All you could do was bring up one of your hands, beginning to gently pull on the hairs on the back of your neck as you avoided Astrid's eyes.

"Is that a nervous habit of yours now? Pulling your hair." She asked as she reached her hand out idly to brush your hair out of your eyes.

"I had gotten it when I first reached the afterlife. When you watch the people you love hurting, and all you can do is ghost around them..." Your voice had faltered, forcing yourself to clear your throat and then begin to speak again.

"You feel so helpless. Watching everyone who used to be around you and love you so miserable about your death. It makes you feel guilty but, most of all, useless. There's no way to hold, touch, talk to, comfort them... It's hard."

The room had fallen silent after your words. Astrid's fingertips gently brushed along the back of your head - tracing the place that you usually pulled at. She let her hand rest there, trying to keep you from pulling at your hair again.

"How cold am I?"

Your words made Astrid pause for a moment. Leaning closer to you as she wrapped an arm around her now ghost girlfriend. The chill of your skin made her shiver involuntarily - but Astrid tried not to show the way her body automatically wanted to shy away from the cold.

"Really damn cold. It's like you're an ice cube almost." Her words a mumble as she got closer to you, laying next to you as she rested her head on top of yours.

"I'm sorry that I'm not warm anymore." Your own words come out as a mumble as well, instinctively, your head rests on her shoulder.

"I know you don't much like when it's really cold. I thought I was keeping myself with this sweater but now that someone's actually able to touch me, I realize it's doing nothing for me."

"Gosh, you don't have to apologize for that. At least you're here." She pulled you closer against her, her arms wrapping around your waist - burtying her face into your shoulder, even if your skin was freezing and caused a slight burn against her own warm skin. She ignored the way that her body had involutarily shivered at the contact - focusing instead on the fact that her girlfriend was here.

"Barely." You mumbled quietly as you gently pulled away from your girlfriend, knowing that you were probably burning Astrid's skin with your own cold, dead skin that was now a pale blue hue.

"Don't be like that. You're talking as if you have no more hope."

"Death has a way of doing that."

Astrid let out a quiet huff at your words. Her eyes flickered back and forth from you and her own hands that were now gripped tightly on her bedding - but in the next moment, she let go. Almost as if with a full burst of speed, she darted to you. Her arms wrapping around your body, hauling you into her bed in a tight, crushing embrace.

"Astrid-" You had said in surprise and protest. You knew that you were cold. Dead. The cold would burn Astrid at one point, and you didn't want that. Not when you used to be alive and warm for her. You used to keep her warm and now you can only burn her with your icy dead skin.

"Don't even think about complaining. I don't care if you're cold." Astrid snapped as she held you impossibly close against her. Her body shivered once again as your cold skin was like a bucket of cold water dumped over her body - but she ignored the cold, focusing on the sensation of her girlfriend in her arms.

A frown had tugged at your lips, knowing that eventually, Astrid would get too cold, but after a year of being a lone ghost who watched your loved ones move on or suffer because of you, you couldn't help but be a little selfish. Your arms wrapped around her as tightly as you could.

You missed your girlfriend so much. Watching over her for a year, her suffering for a full year over your death, had done a number on you. You'd cry if you could, but all you felt was this deep internal sadness. You had no heartbeat, you had no blood to warm your body, you had no tears to shed from your dry eyes. Your chest was the most still it had ever been, you had no air to breathe anymore.

It had begun to feel like too much for the both of them. Being this close to each other after a year of thinking they'd never be able to have contact again, feeling each other's skin despite the feeling of a small burning on her own skin from your own. It was almost enough to make Astrid cry.

The cold was beginning to seep into her skin - making her shiver and leaving her skin prickled. But Astrid wouldn't - couldn't - let go of you. Not when it had been a year since she was able to hold you. You had only frowned as you held her tighter. A small hiss escaped Astrid from the cold contact as she tried to get herself impossibly closer to you.

"Damn it, it's getting too cold." She hissed, speaking between clenched teeth as she tried to bury her face into your shoulder further.

"Warm up with the blankets, I'll just lay beside you. I promise I won't disappear." You pulled away, gently moving Astrid off of yourself as you carefully pulled her bedsheets over her body. When you finished tucking her in, you lay beside her, admiring every detail you could land your eyes on.

She only huffed a bit, feeling oddly petulant about the fact that she had to let go of you However, she did as she was told. A small shiver rattled her body as her eyes locked onto yours. She managed to mumble something incohereently as she reached for you, trying to tug you close again.

"Too cold, baby. Just give it a moment. I'm here, you see me." You tried to reassure her as you gently tugged a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Baby.' The soft nickname only made her want to pull you close again, but she knew that you were right. Her body was cold - skin still pricked and burned from being in contact with her girlfriend. She snuggled further into the bedding, her hand gently reaching out to yours. Linking her own pinky with yours, causing you to smile. Her eyes looked into yours as if asking if it was okay to which you had nodded.

┗━━━✦❘༻♡༺❘✦━━━┛

A/N: I don't know why this felt like such a short chapter to me despite it being the most words I've written so far?? I might have some filler chapters for this and 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours' sometimes. Then again, there is still a lot to write for the storyline themselves. Thank you, lovelies, for all the support on my posts! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm so sorry if some days I do not have time to update. Also, if there's anyone that wants to be tagged for updates on this story, leave a comment saying so! Bye, loves!

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Hi! First of all, I love your writing! Thank you for all your work! Could I possibly request a Regina x fem!Reader set during the Christmas talent show when Regina fell during their performance? Reader immediately goes to usher Regina off of the stage and takes her somewhere to comfort her and just generally ask how she was or something. Every time I get to that scene in the movie, I felt so bad for her and just want someone to care for Gina lmao. Thank you!!

Cry if you Need

|| Regina George x fem!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, humiliated Regina, hurt Regina, mentions of weight struggles, short drabble

|| Summary; when Regina falls on stage, reader's there to pick her up.

Requests open!

Started; october 16th

Finished; october 16th

~~~

Everything had happened so fast that you barely had time to register it. One moment, the plastics were doing the dance routine they do every year. Then the next... they tumbled. Regina's fall looking the worst. You grimaced and rushed through the crowded place, trying to get to your girlfriend through the sea of phones. You could see the humiliation clear as day on Regina's face and you felt so bad for her. Knowing that she was already struggling with her weight, this probably didn't help. Like at all.

Pushing your way out, you managed to scramble up onto the stage where you ran to Regina's side. Helping her up and wrapping an arm around her. You could feel her trembling as you lead her backstage. Needing to get her somewhere more private so she might actually talk to you.

Once you were alone, you could see the tears Regina was fighting back. Your hands went up to cup her cheeks," hey, shh, shh, baby.. cry if you need." You assured her, letting her know this was a safe space for her. Knowing that was what she needed.

"I'm fucked, Y/N. I'm so fucked." The tears fell and it broke your heart. Sure, Regina was a bitch. But this kind of humiliation? You weren't sure if she deserved it. You didn't know what would happen once the two of you left this room, you almost didn't want to leave. Just to keep her safe. How could you even assure her that it would be okay? You knew Regina was right. So you had to find some other way to comfort her, somehow make all of this more easier.

"Regina... hey, baby whatever happens.. I'll be with you through it all, okay? I'll be here. Things happen to people. Things out of our control, but the people in our lives is what makes it easier. Right? I'll be here. Whatever you need." You took her hands in yours, watching as she took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. You just wanted to make this okay for her, but you knew you were pretty powerless. You couldn't control the entire student body; hell. This was definitely even out of the student body by now. It had to be all over the internet. You hated that.

You gave each of her knuckles a soft kiss, then pulled her lips against yours. She met your kiss, almost desperate for any kind of comfort. She knew she fell further than just the stage floor. Her status was ruined. She was fucked, but she had you.

[yesimwriting]

Safe

A/n this was originally meant to be a smaller drabble but it spiraled, also i'm rewatching outer banks and am deep in my jj era <3

Warnings/info: the time period isn’t super relevant but i did write it with mid-ish season 1 in mind, kook!reader, reader smoking for the first time, kinda sheltered reader, jj having a bit of an attitude at first, and my first time writing for a character so pls be nice 😭

Summary: As the newest addition to Figure 8, you haven’t been able to make many friends outside of Sarah Cameron, no matter how hard she tries to get her friend group to bend their no-kook rule. But after JJ pulls you aside at a party, you start to think that you may not be as much of a lost cause as you thought.

----

Thinking about JJ whose little more to you than a fixture of Sarah's friend group, the same group that's too hesitant to bend their no-kooks rule for a girl that Sarah's only recently started hanging out with for you to ever feel fully welcomed around them.

Sure, most of Sarah's friends are nice enough--John B a little more amicable than the others because he's Sarah's boyfriend, and Pope's been happy enough to make conversation with you since after the first time you drank a little too much in front of them (apparently, you're a lot funnier when you're tipsy).

The second half of Sarah's friend group has an easier time openly holding onto their doubts. And you can't even really fault them for it. Kiara's faced the social brutality of your world enough times to warrant her doubts and JJ has every reason to hate kooks.

It doesn't mean it never feels awkward, though. Like when Sarah invites you to a party and then innocently leaves you alone for five minutes just for you to almost immediately accidentally lock eyes with JJ.

He's across the room, standing next to Pope and a guy you don't recognize. Pope's too caught up in friendly conversation to notice you standing there, but for whatever reason, JJ's head is turned towards you. He watches you with an openness that'd be a lot more unnerving if you hadn't recently finished your third drink of the night. You stare back, if for no other reason than to try to decipher the slight draw of his eyebrows.

For a second, you think he might do something. Not necessarily wave you over, but maybe nod or smile politely or offer anything that implies at least acquaintanceship. Instead, he allows his gaze to shift downwards at a pace that feels a little too deliberate before returning to his conversation.

You sigh, a lot more agitated by the snub than you've let yourself be about anything. Before you can fully lean into the feeling, there's a voice, "Hey." You turn, surprised by the closeness of the sound. "You're new, right?"

You blink, wondering if the question is an assumption rooted in your lack of familiarity or in the way you're carrying yourself. Maybe a little of both considering you can't remember ever seeing this guy.

"Yeah," you confirm with a polite nod, "My family and I moved right before summer break."

The stranger nods back: “Cool," he mumbles, "We don't get a lot of new people." There's nothing sharp about the way he says it, but something about the sentiment makes it difficult to not sarcastically let him know that you've noticed. It's not that anyone's been particularly cruel about you being new, it's just hard to move to a town where most friendships were cemented in sandboxes and on swing sets.

When the guy you don't know continues to watch you, you realize that you've yet to respond to him. "Yeah," it's only a little more deflated than you wanted it to be. You shift your weight from one foot to the other before amending your statement, "But everyone's been pretty nice so far."

"I'm sure," he breathes the words out like they're some joke you're not privy to. If the stranger notes your confusion, he gives no indication of it. "And I'm about to be a whole lot nicer..." He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out something that takes you a second too long to recognize as a joint.

Oh. Your fingers press themselves into your palms. It's not that you're against the idea of smoking, it's just not something you were expecting to do for the first time tonight. Especially with some guy you don't know.

He places the joint between his lips before pulling a lighter from his pocket. The stranger takes his time inhaling the smoke before extending his arm in a silent offering. When you don't immediately jump into action, he prompts you, "Come on..." He takes a step towards you, "Think of it as a welcome gift."

The more you think about it, the less the idea bothers you. This isn't how you saw your night going, but getting high with some guy you just met has to be better than awkwardly waiting for Sarah or forcing yourself onto people who don't really want you around.

You lift your hand, but before your fingers can touch his, something warm and hard presses into your shoulder. You step back, too surprised to really try escaping the force that just latched itself onto your arm.

"Hey, princess." You sigh. It's JJ--just JJ, whose addressing you with a familiarity he's never directed towards you. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

Really. You don't know what his issue is, but clearly, he has one because why else would he pointedly ignore you just to do this when someone besides Sarah starts being nice to you? You part your lips, ready to tell him as much when his hand moves off your arm and comes to rest around your shoulders. He tugs you towards him, making it impossible to ignore his warmth.

JJ straightens slightly, turning his attention to the guy in front of you. "Mind if I steal her for a second?"

The guy frowns. "Uh..." He pulls his arm towards himself. "No, man, go ahead."

JJ offers him a tight lipped smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. With that, he begins to walk forward, arm still around you.

He's quick, making his way through the crowded living room and into a less familiar hallway with long strides that are nearly impossible for you to keep up with. "J--JJ" He doesn't react. "What--"

Before you can get the question out, JJ stalls in front of a shut door. He opens it, ushering you into the new room with a startlingly gentle squeeze of your shoulder. JJ's right behind you, shutting the door behind him.

JJ exhales, the sound sharp and a lot more frustrated than you've ever heard him be. While JJ might not like you, he's never been mad at you. He's never been mean to you. At least, not in a way that transcends occasional bouts of passive aggression.

You're quiet for a moment, attention briefly shifting away from him and onto your surroundings. His sudden interest in you was so distracting, you hadn't really thought about where he might've been taking you. You're both standing in a bedroom now. Completely alone. More alone than you've ever been with him.

The realization is something that you immediately force yourself to push past. He's the one that ruined your chance at hanging out with someone that wanted you around. "What's your problem?"

"My problem," from him, the phrase sounds ridiculous. Like you’re the crazy one for not already understanding his actions. He scoffs, shaking his head once. "Did you even know that guy?"

There's no good answer. Your lips part, a half thought out lie resting against the back of your throat. After a second, you decide against it. He'd be able to tell. "Does it matter?"

He scoffs again, this time the sound even sharper than before. "I guess book smart doesn't count for everything."

"Hey--"

"Did you even ask him what he was smoking?"

You sigh, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "No, because I was hoping it was full of hard drugs that'd kill me." You lift your chin slightly in an attempt to force yourself to hold his gaze, "I know what weed looks like."

He stills, eyeing you in a way that you don't understand. You guess you can't really blame him for his surprise. You doubt you’ve ever directed your sarcasm at him.

JJ's quick to refocus, his frustration returning so quickly it nearly gives you whiplash, "It could have been laced with anything. Just because you look like you came out of a princess movie doesn't mean you live in one."

You press your lips together, deeply unimpressed by the thought of JJ Maybank of all people giving you a safety lecture. You might not know him well enough to have personally witnessed the extent of his recklessness, but Sarah's told you enough stories for you to understand that he's being a total hypocrite.

And while you'd be completely justified in calling him out, there's something about the way he's watching you that tells you he doesn't want to hear it. "I'm not stupid, I saw him smoke it himself first."

JJ scoffs for the third time. You roll your eyes. "It's a party, lighten up."

He's studying you with an openness that even the alcohol in your system can't make a bearable. You swallow in an attempt to ignore the feeling. JJ takes a step forward, and then another, moving at an agonizingly measured pace until he's so close you have to tilt your head to hold his gaze.

You're not sure what he's looking for, but his assessment ends with his lips pulling themselves into a smirk. "You've never smoked before, have you?"

Your skin feels a little warmer than it did a second ago. It'd be an easy enough thing to deny, but then you wouldn't just be someone who hasn't smoked weed before, you'd also be the girl insecure enough to have lied about it.

You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. "I'm going back to the party," the claim is a lot more certain than you feel. "But if I decide to go upstairs and ask Sarah's brother for a line, you'll be the first to know."

The sentence leaves an uncomfortable heat crawling up your neck. It wasn't exactly a cruel thing to say, but it wasn't nice either. JJ may not be your best friend but anyone in proximity of either of them is well aware of the issues between him and Rafe.

You swallow in an attempt to dismiss your regret. You force your gaze to the ground as you shift forward. He's standing in front of the door, but he'd--he'll move if you make it clear you're leaving.

His hand finds your forearm before you can turn fully. Maybe the Rafe comment had been too much. "JJ--"

He presses his lips together, expression uninterpretable as he watches you. "I didn't know you were such a brat." When you give him no sign of recognition, he continues, "You hear 'no' for the first time in your life and you throw a fit."

You glare. "Maybe it's because it's not your place to tell me not to do anything."

"So next time I see you doing something unsafe I should just let you?"

He's still holding onto your arm, which would be a lot more irritating if wasn't for the way that he carefully dragged his thumb against your skin. If you really wanted space, you would have tried pulling away by now.

You let out a breath. JJ had no right to do what he did, but he didn't mean it in a bad way. And that has to count for something. "And you're always so safe?"

His eyebrows draw together at that. "For you--safer than him."

Your lips part, but before you can begin to explain that that's not how you meant it, he releases you.

JJ's hand finds his pocket. He gives you no indication of what he might be looking for until he's pulled it out of his pocket. "You want to smoke? At least do it with someone who isn't going to leave you passed out at a party or worse."

You'd roll your eyes, but you're too happy with your newfound peace to risk it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a lighter before bringing the joint to his lips. He inhales, holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it out.

He extends his arm, offering you the joint. You eye him curiously, wondering how much of this is coming from a place of pity.

"It's a party," he mumbles, elevating his pitch in an attempt to mimic you, "Lighten up."

You halfheartedly glare at the use of your own words against you as you reach for the joint. JJ watches you as you place the joint between your lips. You follow his example, inhaling for a long second before pulling it away.

He places a hand on your back, smoothing comforting circles against your upper spine. "Hold it." You listen as best you can, resisting the urge to exhale until JJ tells you to let it out. To your surprise, he doesn't tease you for the raspy cough that follows. Instead, JJ just continues to trace circles against your back until you can breathe fully again. "There you go."

After you recover, he takes another hit. You watch him expectantly, but instead of giving the joint back to you, he shakes his head. "You're gonna wait a second." You frown. "Don't give me that look, baby."

You ignore the uncomfortable warmth settling in your chest. You barely even talk to JJ and you're already used to his never ending plethora of nicknames, but something about hearing that now, after he's been so nice and patient and so many things you never thought JJ could be...

Maybe you can blame your shift in perspective on the beginning of your high.

JJ steps back with no warning, taking another hit as he walks past you and towards the bed. He sits, sighing as he relaxes himself against the pillows. After he's settled, JJ lazily extends his arm, patting the space next to him. "Sit with me?"

You walk forward slowly, steps measured until you're standing directly in front of the bed. "Wasn't there a guy walking around earlier telling everyone to stay out of the bedrooms?"

He lifts his head just enough to look at you. "If you don't want people in your house, don't throw a house party."

Though oversimplified, a relatively fair point..and you are starting to feel tired in a way you don't understand, a bone deep drowsiness that's as heavy as it is light. You walk towards the other side of the bed before sitting next to him.

If you seem as hesitant as you feel, JJ gives no indication of noticing as he shifts, moving to sit closer to you. Before you can react to the proximity, JJ takes your hand. You let him squeeze your palm to his. "Feeling okay, princess?"

You nod, the motion oddly thought consuming. "Yeah, like--really okay." You don't realize how much you mean it until you've said it. "I think I get it now."

JJ lets out a breath that feels like a laugh. "Get what?"

He bends his leg, letting his knee press against your leg. His skin is warm in a way that reminds you of summer. You don't think twice about leaning into the feeling, relaxing your arm so that it can press against his. "A better question would be what don't I get?"

This time, he actually does laugh, the sound bright and much too enjoyable. You laugh too, if for no other reason than to have something in common with him.

"Well, since weed makes you so much nicer," he ignores your pointed glare, "You can smoke with me whenever you want as long as you promise to always call daddy JJ first."

You sit up, lifting your head slightly to look at him. "Do you really want to have just called yourself that?"

He grins shamelessly, gently pulling your hand towards his chest. "I'd rather you call me that..."

You let out a sigh, relaxing against your pillow in an attempt to dismiss the warmth settling beneath your face. "Don't--I was just starting to think you might be a tiny bit likable."

JJ groans like your words have deeply wounded him. "A tiny bit?" He presses your arm into his chest, dragging his fingertips up and down your forearm. "I thought we were better friends than that."

Friends. You frown, turning your attention towards the wall in front of you. "Well, ignoring me earlier knocked you down a few points."

His hand stills against your arm. "I wasn't--" He sighs. "I--I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to me or if you were there with that guy and then I was going to--" JJ shakes his head. "I was an asshole."

It's not exactly an apology, but you'll take it. "Kinda."

He starts tracing patterns against your forearm again. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

The thought of pushing for details is tempting, but nowhere near as overwhelming as the heaviness behind your eyelids. You're leaning before you can stop yourself, you head finding JJ's shoulder. "I'm sure."

He drags his nails against your skin. "You're sleepy." It's not a question, but you're about to protest anyway. "It's okay, I'll be here when you wake up."

And for some reason, the assurance is enough to get you to close your eyes.

----

i had fun writing this and kind of want to expand this dynamic so if you'd like to see a part 2 of this or anything jj related in general pls lmk !!

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan howlett being gross please 🙏🙏

I so badly wanted to answer this all day but I was busy so thanks for your patience!! I may end up writing an actual drabble of him being nasty BUT since it's 10 and I need to be up by 5 am tomorrow I'm gonna give some headcanons out to keep you freaks (lovingly)(im a freak too otherwise i wouldn't be writing this) satisfied. Love you guys <3

if there's anything specific you want me to talk about, feel free to send an ask!

(logan judging me for putting his nastiness out there)

NSFW stuff under the cut. Beware. some of it's gross. :)

Lets start with what I said in that one post

Yes, Logan would fuck himself in every part of you if you let him

personally not big on anal myself but if you guys are down for that, he would definitely like to try it.

I think it's less of getting himself off or being attracted to it, like your elbow or knees

its more of being able to claim you more ways than one, his animalistic instinct REALLY kicks in on this. Scents probably play a part on this

IF you let him do the things he wants, you're gonna get treated SO GOOD afterwards, believe me. Satisfying his urges in the weird ways he gets em? You're an actual fucking angel to him

I've mentioned foot jobs before. I think honestly the foot job is probably what started this whole thing. It's a body part he never considered getting off from. It's until you guys were in your bedroom, hes walking around naked fresh from the shower and you get playful, reaching your feet out and messing with his cock. He was surprised how hard it made him and then when he cums he's like... "Now what else can I get off on?"

I almost mentioned scents. Logans so big on scents yall we established this. You smelling like him, him smelling like you.

When you're a little more settled in your relationship, he may start making comments on how good you smell after workouts, sex, etc. Its the pheromones man

You don't think much until you catch him straight up inhaling your workout clothes one day

He's a bit flustered over it

claims he didn't know what he was doing (he did) and that he was just getting ready to do laundry (he was not) (he went straight to your laundry with the goal of smelling that shit)

PANTY SNIFFER

Loves your panties and bras the most. Definitely will keep your used panties here and there. he does it discreetly, confidently. He's not so ashamed for you to find him sniffing your panties.

Nasty making out. big fan of this

he wants you both practically drooling into each other. can and will spit in your mouth and wants you to do the same

will make out with you with his cum in your mouth. He doesn't like his cum it's just the fact of it's you mixed with him.

He'll love it if you have each others essence and make out like that too.

It's not every time but sometimes he'll just get these urges to make you both messy as hell. spit and cum, hickeys, scratches etc etc

I've also said this before but period sex period sex period sex

He does not fucking care

Makes him a lil wild actually. Might scare you a bit.

If you initially don't want to do it, he'll leave it alone and eventually get needy enough he'll find excuses and then he founds out sex can help relieve periods and he's like

"I'm just tryna make you feel better baby"

When you finally give in his ecstatic

he will def be careful though. He truly doesn't want to hurt you. He's just a needy lil thing for you

Eating. you. out on your period.

I know, it's gross. But so is he.

The first happens on accident. He tastes it while eating you out and immediately recognizes it. he doesn't stop and doesn't tell you

You realize it when he finishes and looks up and his face is covered in blood

quite frankly you're horrified

he didn't care. just goes and washes himself up and you as well.

You're gonna need to change the sheets though. Logans a messy eater

He will eat and drink food from your mouth

you're telling him "oh Lo! Try this pie its SO good-" as you put the fork in your mouth and you're about to give him a piece and feed it to him and he insteads grabs you by the back of your neck and sticks his tongue in your mouth and tastes it that way

It shocks you (and turns you on)

"Yeah baby, it is good." he chuckles as he smacks his lips and walks away leaving you dumbfounded and a bit horny

(you're just like)

will get so nasty about fucking you too like the dirty talking

"Your pussy so fucking tight and wet. Sucking me in and everything."

"You fucking love how I taste don't you? All that cum and sweat. dirty girl."

"my cum tastes good in you baby"

"cmon, taste how good you are darling"

Ive mentioned about him going into a trance after he cums on you

he's cummed inside you and now staring at it leaks out of you

he's pushing it back in and trying to keep it all in you

doesn't even hear you whining over it

he starts spreading it all over you. it just looks so good painted on your pretty pussy

like i said this man adores you and that means ALL of you

will drool during sex

you're just going at it and you guys hit a point where your mindless and fucking

you feel so good and he can't even think straight. acting purely on instinct and you feel his drool on your back. You look back and his mouth is hanging open and his eyes shut and he's thrusting into you over and over, completely contorted in pleasure

lets talk a little about some other stuff

logan keeps up his hygiene of course. brushes teeth. washes his ass. he may consider himself an animal but he's not gonna let himself go. he IS from the 1800s yknow

but he runs like a heater and can and will sweat

esp with all those fucking layers

sweaty dick and balls. nuff said. hope you enjoy that

his natural musk is strong as hell. honestly though to you it'll smell really really good

leaks a lot of precum when he's horny.

his hairs insane though. So much hair. Its' gonna get in your mouth

actually even if hes groomed it's still gonna get in your mouth. he has a lot of hair

Enjoy nasty logan! <3

[achilles-rage]

good luck charm: bonus drabble

come and get your love

summary: after a hard day, you do something to cheer evan up.

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist

a/n: this might be stupid, but it was fun to write and i think it’s cute so sue me!! sigh, i miss good luck charm evan, and i'm sorry this took so long, i just couldn't think of any scenarios i really wanted to tell. if you have any drabble ideas for this series, i'm happy to hear them! enjoy<33

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re in the bedroom putting away some laundry when you hear the front door slam, and you jump in surprise, a frown making its way onto your face immediately. You know exactly what that door slam means; Evan has had a bad day. 

“Hi, baby.” you say, peeking your head over the railing and looking at him in the kitchen getting some water. You offer him a small smile when he looks up at you, and although he gives you a smile back, you can tell it’s fake even from up in the loft. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you sigh sadly.

When you make it to the bottom of the stairs and walk towards him standing near the fridge, you wrap your arms around his neck and raise up onto your toes to give him a kiss. You feel the way he melts into your embrace, and it’s almost as if you can feel all of the stress radiating off of his body; it’s practically suffocating you, and you can’t even imagine how he feels.

“Rough day?” you ask, and he nods once, jaw clenched.

He’s been working extremely hard the past few weeks at the LAFD training academy, and while he comes home most days exhausted but content, there’s some days where he can get overwhelmed.

“You have no idea.” he tells you, his hands finding their way to your hips. You give him a sad smile, then pull him down for another kiss, hoping to get him to relax a little bit more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He huffs at your question, thinking for a moment. He knows it would be better to get it out of his system, but he doesn’t want to dump it all on you. He knows how hard you’ve been working at your new job, and he doesn’t want you worrying about him as well.

“Hey, we don’t keep stuff in, that’s not what we do. You told me that.” you urge him softly when he doesn’t reply right away. He sighs, a smile fighting its way onto his face at your reminder. He nods after a moment, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

“The physical stuff is fine, I’m passing everything easily. Just- The instructors say stuff; try to get into your head. It just got to me today.” he explains with a frown. You nod your head as he speaks, keeping your gaze locked with his. When he’s finished you tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, you raise your brows.

“Do you want to tell me what they said today that got you so worked up?” you urge. You don’t necessarily want to push him, but you know that he needs to talk it out, so you keep your eyes on him, as if pleading with him to tell you.

“We were doing this drill today, and there were a bunch of dummies. They gave them all back stories to make them feel real. I don’t know, I guess I just got caught up in it and in my mind they were real people, because they will be one day. I tried to go back into the building even when some of the other guys let the fire get out of hand because there were still a few dummies left in the building, and some guys had to hold me back.” he says in one big breath, and you follow along with furrowed brows, hoping he’ll continue.

“Well, they know I have you, and I guess they picked up on the fact that I was thinking about you the whole time; thinking about you in there. They were just saying stuff about me not being able to save you because of my mistakes, and about you having to plan my funeral because I got reckless on the job and I got myself killed.” he continues after a moment. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits for you to reply, and your eyes soften at his admission. 

You shake your head, bringing his head down to rest your foreheads against each other with your hand on the back of his neck. You keep him there for a moment in silence, trying to gather your thoughts before you reply.

“My love, your heart is what will make you a good firefighter. You care so much about people. And I have no doubt that you’d be able to save me if you had to, because you’re smart, and capable, and you love so deeply. And I’m not gonna lie, the thought of you getting hurt on the job has crossed my mind, but I know that you’re gonna fight to come home everyday, aren’t you?” He nods immediately, brows furrowing.

“Of course, I will. You know I will.” he replies, and you smile.

“Then I’m not too worried. Worry about actually finishing your training first, and then we’ll talk about you dying on the job, okay? Because I guarantee that when you start at an actual station, you’ll trust your team a lot more than the recruits. You can’t even imagine all the stories my dad has told me about the people he had to train with.” you tell him with a small laugh. You can still see a bit of hesitancy in his eyes as he tells you that you’re right, so you lead him to the couch and sit him down.

“I know exactly what you need.” you tell him when he sits down, then turn and grab your phone off the kitchen counter.

A small, real smile finally makes its way to his face when he sees you scrolling through your phone, knowing exactly what you’re about to do. When one of you has a bad day, the other always does something to make the other smile. He doesn’t even remember when or how this tradition started, but he does know that it always makes him smile regardless of how many times you do it.

His smile widens when he hears the beginning to Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love from the speaker connected to the tv, and you turn from your spot in the kitchen to face him.

You walk over to him as the beat starts, moving your shoulders in time with each step and fighting back a smile, and when the singing starts, you grab the tv remote off the coffee table and begin to lip sync into it.

He watches as you dance to the music with a wide smile, watching the way you move your hips in time with the music, and he can already feel himself start to feel better. He chuckles when you grab one of his hands and duck down to spin under his arm, and when you turn back to face him, you drop his hand and back up a few feet.

When the chorus starts, you continue lip syncing as you raise your hand in a “come here” motion, rolling your body in time with the beat. He gets up off the couch, keeping his eyes locked with yours, then grabs your hips, pulling you against him. 

You both sway to the music with smiles on your face. You can tell that he feels better, and you’re extremely grateful. You know how stressful the job can be, and you only hope you can help him through it as much as you can. 

The song finally ends, and he lifts you up with his hands going to the backs of your thighs, and you giggle as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You always know what to do, princess.” he says with a grin, and all you can do is lean down to press your lips to his. 

“I know what else I can do to help you feel better.” you murmur against his lips. You feel his grip tightening on the back of your thighs, and he groans, pulling back from your lips to look at you with blown pupils.

“I’m keeping you in bed until tomorrow morning.” he teases, then sets you back down onto the ground. He then grabs your waist and turns you towards the stairs, then pushes you forward gently, but not before giving your ass a firm smack. You yelp at the contact, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Go upstairs, princess. I’ll be right up.” 

“What are you doing?” you ask, but obey and walk towards the stairs.

“I’m ordering takeout, gonna see what I can do before it gets here.” he teases, and you laugh softly, rolling your eyes.

His eyes dart between your ass as you walk up the stairs, and his phone, and when he’s finally placed the order, he races up the stairs two at a time. 

He grins when he sees that you’re already naked, sprawled out on the bed and sitting up on your elbows waiting for him. He groans as he takes off his shirt, then unzips his pants, and then he’s on you in an instant, lips attaching to your neck.

“How could I do this without you, princess?” he whispers against your neck, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath hits your neck.

“You’d be lost without me.” you tease as you tilt your head back. You feel him grinding against you as he chuckles, and you lower your chin to meet his gaze when he leans back to look at you.

“Damn right, I would.”

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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