#these characters will never know peace will they

[peachsayshi]

₊ ⊹ . ݁ THE KING  ₊ ⊹ .

(boxer!sukuna x reader)

⊹ tags: ryomen sukuna x female reader; childhood friends; character mentions: uraume - satoru gojo; unresolved tension; sukuna is oh so in love; fluffy but a mix of angst/smut/fluff; domestic; non curse au; p in v sex; unprotected sex; dry humping; making out; oral sex;

:about: you've known sukuna before he was a world boxing champion, when he was just a scrawny kid who used to hide behind your legs when you were both in kindergarten. sukuna is growing tired of the fame and fortune, and all he really wants is to fall into the arms of the one person who he's always considered his home.

this fic is one shot. I'll happily answer any lore questions regarding boxer!sukuna x reader, but there will not be a part two or more parts of their story. It is a standalone.

wc: 19K+

Sukuna steps out of the shower, his body wound up in a tight coil after the night's fight. He presses the bridge of his nose together to relieve his throbbing head, but his brow is searing with pain. When he opens his eyes he catches a reflection of his self in the bathroom mirror- a split on his bottom lip, a cut on the arch of his right eyebrow and a slight bruise on his left cheek. 

It's rare for him to look this battered after a match. 

He's been untouchable for years, he's almost forgotten what it's like to take a few good hits in the ring. 

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" 

His eyes flicker up toward Uraume, who seems to have appeared out of nowhere.  

He shakes his head at his manager. "Nothing happened, I won. Isn't that a good thing?"

Uraume narrows their gaze, sharp like a sly little fox. They can read Sukuna like a book, but Sukuna chooses to play ignorant and brushes off their knowing stare. 

He knows that the inquisition isn't about the sponsors, the money, or the win. 

He also knows that Uraume never asks questions that they don’t know the possible answer to. 

Thankfully, his manager just sighs. 

"The limo is outside waiting to take you to the party," they state, their heavy exhale indicating that they know Sukuna won't own up to what they are trying to prod out of him. 

"Fuck," Sukuna grumbles. The towel hangs low on his hips, and he throws the one that is around his neck onto the ground. He steps outside to the locker room and proceeds to change. He dries off, puts on his boxers and picks up his black t-shirt before pulling it over his bare chest marked with ink. He then tugs on his jeans, and secures his belt around the waist. "Do I have to go to that?" 

Uraume shrugs, "Don't you want to parade your big victory over Satoru Gojo to the rest of the world?" his manager adds, slipping both hands into their pocket as they stride casually toward Sukuna who is merely trying to gather the rest of  his things. 

The last touch is his signature silver chain necklace. He hooks the accessory around his neck, while mentally preparing himself for the crowd waiting for him outside. For the voices that would be screaming out his name, and the obnoxious paparazzi who can't seem to grasp the concept of personal space. 

They all gawk at him like he's a endangered animal at the zoo.  

His chest seizes at the thought. 

He used to gloat over being in the spotlight. He took to stardom with an extreme sense of pride, but the thought of it right now just makes his skin crawl uncomfortably. 

The only thing that Ryomen Sukuna wanted at this very moment, is to go home in fucking peace. 

He’s given the fans and the world what they wanted. 

"Little shit got what was coming to him," he blurts out in response to Uraume. "It'll take him a while to lick his wounds and get over his broken pride..." 

Uraume chuckles, "and I was worried that he might have actually had an advantage over you..." 

Sukuna swallows the sudden lump in his throat. 

God he was fucking tired. His whole body is aching, begging him to get some much needed rest. He hadn’t trained this hard in a long time. The strict diet, the isolation, the strenuous days in the gym and in the training ring slowly started filtering into him in doses. 

"Almost," he admits quietly, a little bitter over the reality of the situation that he was close to losing. "He's good for his age. Really good actually." 

Uraume's face falls at that. "You don't sound like yourself, my king," they tease half-heartedly, addressing Sukuna by yet another title which he earned in the ring. 

"The King", "The Beast", “The Champ”, “Monster of The Ring”…

There was a time when he was younger, when the fire for the fight burned inside him with such intense conviction, that he found dignity in the titles that he's earned from every match. The thrilling sensation of him standing in the middle of the ring, his hands raised with victorious joy as he looked down at his opponent while the crowd would cheer for him like he was a figure of the divine, used to mean a great deal to him. 

But those titles feel…hollow. An old skin which Sukuna unknowingly shrugged off without even realizing it. 

"I'm just exhausted," he breathes with a hint of frustration, giving Uraume a reply after allowing his mind to drift for a few seconds. "I've got a raging headache and my shoulder is killing me." 

He slings his bag over his good arm, before turning to face his manager. 

The pair walk down towards the end of the hallway, and Sukuna can already hear the muffled voices from the press that have slowly gathered inside. He elongates his spine naturally as he holds a domineering pose. He quietly huffs out a breath and tries to steady the uneasiness coursing through his veins. The second the press lay their eyes on him, they stampede towards Sukuna like dogs off their leash. A flash of white and blue flickers around him, disorienting him for a single moment. 

"Hey, champ! How does it feel to knock out Satoru Gojo after everything he said this season?" 

"Way to prove that you're still The Beast of the Ring! What's next for our King?" 

"You've held your championship title for ten consecutive years! How do you go up from here?"

"Sukuna! Sukuna! Is it true that you've just locked in a multi-million dollar deal with Nike?"  

Uraume steadies the crowd, protectively standing in front of Sukuna as they gesture everyone to calm down. 

Despite the sheer difference in their size, Uraume has a natural way of commanding a room. 

That's one thing Sukuna has always been grateful for regarding his manager; Uraume always looked out for his best interest first.  

"Hello, everyone," they politely speak, their voice calm and pleasant. "While we appreciate the enthusiasm; our champion, Ryomen Sukuna, will only be making a single statement. He's had a long night and needs his rest," they announce, before looking over their shoulder and giving Sukuna a nod of approval to say what he needs to say. 

The man is thankful for Uraume every single day. He already informed them earlier that he wasn't interested in any post-match interview or conversations with the press, and Uraume happily obliged by accepting the privacy that he desperately needed. 

Sukuna tightens his grip around the gym bag over his shoulder. He stares at the small audience before him before clearing his throat to speak. "Young fighters like to run their mouth. I know because I used to be one of them. It's easy to be all bark and no bite. But in my case, I came out teeth first-" he states with a patronizing tone, noticing the press eagerly hang onto his every word and even laughing at his snide remark. 

They are waiting for a brutal comment from the badass himself, for him to add the cherry on top of all the shit-talk he’s already dished out. 

But Sukuna acknowledges that there is no place for it now. 

He doesn't need to add more to the hurt he's already caused to Satoru Gojo. 

Everything was settled in the ring, and now it was over. 

"However, I have to admit that this was one of the best fights of my career. I had fun. He's been a thorn by my side but I respect Satoru, and I know he has a brilliant career on the horizon. That's all I have to say about that for now. Have a good night." 

He steps away from the press, who trail at his feet like a pack of rats rattling off question after question as Uraume tries to console their demands. His manager delays their footing, all the while Sukuna finds the rest of his entourage at the arena exit. 

A string of bodyguards help him get through the second crowd of loyal fans who have gathered. They are waving phones in the air, begging for photos and videos. Sukuna obliges with a few, trying his best to fight off the shakes that's starting to make his hand tremble slightly. People lift up their shirts, flash their cleavage and pull out posters, bras and clothes for him to sign. He does so, his signature faltering from a clean string of letters to a fast doodle of his name. His fans offer him flowers, art, and mementos which he takes, and whatever extra he can't carry he hands off to one of his guards. When he's finally had enough of giving himself to the fans, he bids everyone a wave as his bodyguards escort him to the private parking lot in the back of the arena. 

Sukuna doesn't even realize how hard his heart had started hammering until he's embraced back into the quiet again. He feels incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin, and he isn't sure if it's the apprehension or the adrenaline wearing off from the fight. The phone in his pocket buzzes, probably Uraume wanting to make sure he's made it safely to his vehicle, but he can’t bring himself to answer the call. 

"Sir," one of his bodyguards states, "There's a VIP who is expecting to see you..." 

"So?" Sukuna scoffs, the black Mercedes in the distance a sanctuary. "I don't want to fucking see them." 

"Well, you see, they insisted. They weren't taking no for an answer." 

"And you would be shit at your job if you just let them roll over you like that," Sukuna begrudgingly replies. 

Sukuna wasn't particularly fond of the VIP guest lists. A majority of them were people who wanted to fawn over him, or simply weasel their way into his pants. The other half were people with deeper pockets trying trying to bargain him into fixing fights so that they can win big bucks on their bets.

Sukuna did not have the time or patience for the latter, and even the former as well. 

Especially tonight. 

"Actually, Sir, she's waiting for you as we speak-" the bodyguard stammers, having to look up when he addresses Sukuna. 

The champion stops abruptly to give him a puzzled stare and a piece of his mind over his bodyguard’s stupidity, but his attention is sharply drawn back to the car when he notices a figure step out of the Mercedes. 

You're wearing a denim skirt, a fitted white top and a pair of black boots. Sukuna’s heart skips a beat, noticing that your hair looks a little different from when he last saw you. A sparkle of silver glitters on your neck that matches his own chain, and you beam at him with a bright smile that steadies his soul.

  The click of your heels echo a little louder from the distance as you approach him, waving your fingers delicately in his direction to say your first hello. Sukuna's feet moves faster than the rest of him. He drops his bag off his shoulder, the gifts in his hands splay across the concrete ground and he scoops you up in his arms before spinning you in the air the second he wraps his arms around you. 

You giggle at his greeting, your body trapped in a blanket of muscle and cologne. Your fingers thread between the strands of his red hair, tears pricking your eyes at the sight of your best and oldest friend. 

Sukuna squeezes you tightly, "they should have just told me it was you by name," he exhales with a hint of annoyance, then carefully places you back down to rest your feet on the ground. 

You laugh under your breath, "Don't worry, I gave them hell for it. I told them that I'm the only VIP who mattered considering I have been on that list the longest...." 

You try to loosen your grip but Sukuna tenses up, so you ease back into his hug. 

He didn’t want to let go just yet. 

And truthfully, neither do you. 

"Hi, princess," he whispers in your ear, his voice deep and thick with fatigue. 

"Hey, 'kuna" you reply softly, your fingers curling around the back of his neck, as your heart beats heavily against his now relaxed chest. 

₊ ⊹ .

The light from the car's backseat illuminates Sukuna's ruggedly handsome face. You cup his jaw between your fingers, and lightly trace your thumb over the cut on his swollen lip. Your eyes track upward and you wince at the gash across his brow. 

"He got a few good hits on you didn't he?" you point out, not as a question necessarily but more as a statement of the obvious. 

"A few good hits doesn't mean shit..." 

"When was the last time you got hit this bad in the ring?" you press. 

"I fight for a living, someone was bound to land a punch someday. Besides, it's not a concern. I had my good luck charm tonight without even knowing it..." he responds with a wolfish grin. 

You jab him playfully in the chest. "You're not made of steel you know? You had me concerned for a second..." 

"I roughed him up too," Sukuna states with a pout, "you're all acting like he walked away completely unscathed..." 

He slings an arm over your shoulder, his strength pushing your body weight to lean closer against his side. You shake your head with disapproval as you press the button to switch off the light above you both. 

The city moves past you in a haze, but you can't stop taking in the man before you. 

Ryomen Sukuna. 

The first time you met him was on the playground of your old kindergarten. You were all outdoors, and you noticed that these two bigger kids were knocking him around. The kindergarten teachers weren't anywhere to be seen. At the clear imbalance of power and with your sheer sense of goodwill, you decided to go over there and help. 

Sukuna had just joined your class only three weeks before that. He was the smallest kid, and had a hard time keeping up with everyone else. Everyone made fun of him and called him "chili crisp"  because of his hair. They teased him constantly for how he looked, how he dressed, and how he spoke and simply refused to play with him. 

Being young and impressionable, you never engaged. But you didn't do anything to help Sukuna either. It made you ache seeing him treated this way, and this time you weren't just going to let it slide anymore. 

Sukuna did nothing to deserve this treatment in the first place. 

However, despite his small stature, Sukuna was a fighter even then. 

He kept getting up even if it meant that he would just be shoved down once again. 

You remember walking up to both those kids and grabbing them by the collar. You yanked them off, placing yourself in between them and Sukuna before scolding them both for their terrible behavior. 

"I'm gonna tell!" you squealed with a furious point of your finger, threatening them with snitching words. "And if I ever see you hurt him, I'm going to make sure everyone knows how bad you are! And you’ll get into so much trouble with the teachers!”

You sharply kicked them both in their heels, and watched the kids scamper off, a little more intimidated now that someone they deemed as an equal threat entered the playing filed. Once they were gone, you turned toward Sukuna who was planted on the concrete ground. He was wiping away his snotty nose and trying to hide his tears. 

You scratched the back of your head nervously, your throat all itchy and tight from the sight of him. 

"You're-you're not a chili crisp," was all you could think of telling him in that moment. You gave him a small but kind smile, before offering him both your hands and helping him on his feet. 

He was a whole head and shoulder shorter than you were back then. His clothes barely hung onto his body. He had to fix up his t-shirt and readjust his shorts. 

"I know that," he answered with irritation, and a scowl that never seemed to have left him. 

You assisted in brushing the dust off him. 

"Your name is Ryo-men Su-ku-na?" you asked, breaking down the pronunciation of his name to make sure you said it correctly. 

He nodded his head quietly. 

You gave him another tender grin, and reached out for his hand before introducing yourself. 

"I know who you are, I'm not stupid." 

You frowned at his sharp response. "I never said you were." 

The two of you stood there facing one another in awkward silence, unsure of how to proceed from the moment. 

You shifted your weight from one foot to the next, kicking a random little rock on the ground. "Those kids are stupid." 

"Yeah, they are." He grumbled through gritted teeth. 

"So, if I'm not stupid and you're not stupid, why don't we be friends?" 

Sukuna's eyes widened slightly at your words, like he couldn't believe what you said. 

"Friends?" 

"Yeah!" you squeaked with a little more excitement. "You'll have someone to sit next to and play with every day!" 

He nervously gripped the hem of his tee. 

He never gave you a real response, but the next day he showed up and took a seat right next to you in class.

You were both six years old, and have been insuperable ever since. 

₊ ⊹ .

You press your cheek against his broad shoulder, and Sukuna sighs as his body melts into the leather seat underneath him. His hand gently rubs your own shoulder, with the two of you sitting in silence together as you have done many times before. He instructs the driver to take you both back to his penthouse, disregarding some after party that he's expected to attend. 

At the call, your heart flutters with anticipation because it was a clear sign indicating that he wanted to be alone with you. 

You shivered thinking of the last time that happened. 

It's hard to believe that this version of Sukuna co-exists with the person you've known for a majority of your life. 

The day after he sat next to you in kindergarten, everything changed for the better. 

Sukuna still grimaced at everyone else, but kids no longer picked fights with him and he had a warming smile that was reserved for you alone. 

Whether in class or outside of school, you both spent every spare moment that you could together. You were glued to the hip like two peas in a pod. Your parents adored him, doted on Sukuna despite him resisting their affection. It was only one night, when he was having yet another sleepover at your place, where you finally asked him how is he able to hang out with you all the time. 

Sukuna revealed a truth that broke your heart entirely. 

“Here is better than being home. Usually it's just me..." 

"Just you?" you whispered innocently, "but your mom and dad?" 

You watched him shrink into his blanket with uncertainty. "Don't know. I live with my Grandpa. He works a lot..." 

It's only later in your life where you learnt the full story. 

Sukuna’s parents abandoned him, leaving him with his grandfather to pursue reckless adventures together. At the time Sukuna was only three years old. His grandfather worked hard to provide for the boy, but he was an aging old man and didn’t expect to be responsible for such a young child. Sukuna's grandfather always showed deep gratitude to your parents for helping out and providing Sukuna with another safe space that gave him some much needed stress relief on his end. 

His daughter eventually returned, in tow this time with Sukuna’s half brother Yuji. His dead beat dad was gone for good. But by then Sukuna was already fourteen. 

He’s always had a complex relationship with his family, but things seem to be better with his brother. The two of them could pass off as identical twins, it was almost scary how alike they looked. 

You loved Yuji; he was a living antithesis of his older brother. Always perky, smiling so bright it’s like the sun follows his footsteps. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, carried the shadow and gloom of a waning moon. 

Your childhood and early adolescent years were precious, cherished moments and memories that solidified the strength of your relationship. But despite everything, you were the only person who saw how bright Sukuna's own light could shine. 

The driver finally parks the car in front of one of the most expensive buildings in Tokyo. Sukuna gets out first, and extends a hand into the vehicle to help grab yours. The touch sends tingles up your arm, but you do your best not to read into the reaction just yet. 

The two of you enter the building, passing the security who simply tilts their head in acknowledgment, but from your peripheral vision you notice Sukuna’s eyes shifting around his environment.

“No cameras,” you reassure him with a squeeze to his bicep. “No paparazzi…” 

Sukuna was aware of what he signed up for with fame, but that did not mean that you had to be subjected to the aggressive violation of privacy. 

And after everything that happened, after the horrific clashing of both your worlds, he felt himself breathe a huge sigh of relief. 

“They probably think I am showing up to the victory party,” he answered with gratitude.

The elevator rings, the doors opening as you both step inside. 

Sukuna hits the button to the penthouse suite, and from the way his shoulders slump you can tell there is something off about his demeanor. 

This isn’t the Ryomen you knew who walked away from a fight with the buzz of the winner. 

He’s dimmed. 

A bulb that’s flickering. 

Something’s wrong, you thought, looping your arm around his and keeping your eyes on the numbers increasing as you swallow your concern. 

₊ ⊹ .

Puberty didn’t hit Sukuna; it struck him like a brick over his head. 

At sixteen years old, Sukuna was no longer the loser kid that everyone picked on. He was a tower, a watchful pillar that looked down on those around him with an intimidating stare. All of a sudden this scrawny boy shot up like a tree, his body springing into a new version of himself. His voice broke, dropping octaves lower than the soft tone of what it used to be. His shoulders broadened, lean muscle forming since he spent most of his time wrestling and boxing.  

He became the bad boy that everyone blushed and fawned over. 

The athlete that people admired.

His coaches loved him - called him a prodigy, and a star of the future.

Sukuna carried himself with plenty of self respect, and was extremely well spoken. Outside of his athletics he enjoyed reading and learning history, and his venture into sports only happened because it kept him busy and gave him some much needed space away from his home. He was readjust to a new life with his mom back in the picture, and a brother who was five years younger than him. At first it was simply an escape, but once he settled into the atmosphere of it all, it gave him a sense of structure. Sukuna was diligent about his training and academics, outsmarting and outplaying almost everyone around him. His motivation was fueled with every game and competition, and you quickly saw that Sukuna only had the expectation of being a winner and nothing else. 

Navigating your teenage years was a bit tough for both of you. 

It began with one sleep over just a year prior, the moment where you both recognized that things couldn’t progress as casually as they used to. You woke up tangled in each other’s arms, hyper aware of your bodies and the parts that were blooming. 

Sukuna slept on the sofa every sleep over after that. 

Thanks to your eruptive hormones, the both you bickered often and frequently. As you and Sukuna started understanding your own senses of selves, a hint of distance started to grow. For a long time the two of you only ever had each other, but with Sukuna now a part of the athletic group and you falling in line with your own little clique, the both of you were finding some time away from each other and identifying who you were without the other person around. 

However, you always came back to one another, like two little magnets seeking each other out. 

It’s all you’ve ever known since you were six. 

One afternoon, while hanging out in the school’s basketball court, Sukuna turned to face you as you paced behind him while he was throwing some shots for fun.

“They think you’re my girlfriend,” he casually stated, referencing his new set of friends who always studied you with intense curiosity. 

Your face burned multiple degrees hotter than it should. 

“W-what?” You stammered. 

“Yeah,” he answered nonchalantly, and you watched him dribble the basketball as the awkwardness settled.  

“That’s…that’s weird…” was all you could think of adding on. “You told them I am not, right?” 

Sukuna furrowed his brows and hummed. But he nodded his head. 

“Just because we are friends that doesn’t automatically mean that we are “boyfriend and girlfriend”,” you insisted, using air quotes to emphasize your statement. 

Sukuna turned so his back was to you, and tossed the ball directly into the ring. 

“That’s what I told them…” he reassured, but something about his tone didn’t sit right with you. 

The summer that followed - Sukuna’s grandfather, mom and brother took a trip away. Sukuna declined to join since he was participating in a tournament. After his wrestling team came out victorious, he decided to throw a secret bash at his place to celebrate. 

You were there helping him hide away all the fragile items, before staring at him in shock when he placed a few beer cans on his kitchen counter. 

“How did you get that?” You asked in a low whisper, afraid that you both might somehow get caught for doing something that you aren’t supposed to. 

He just gave you a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, Princess…” 

That nickname stuck on you like glue. It’s something Sukuna called you with annoyance when you were both kids, and you used to call him an angry dragon in return. Even though you stopped using that silly term, for some reason Sukuna’s pet name morphed into one of endearment and affection which he kept using. 

“It’s just the team and a couple of girls that the guys have been trying to get with…” he ensured, “The guys wanted the beers, so I managed to sneak some from my grandfather’s stash…” 

“And what if he finds out?” 

Sukuna laughs, “that old man can’t even remember what day it is. I’m sure he won’t notice a few beer cans missing…” 

That night you had your first secret party, your first sip of beer and your first kiss; it was one of those core memories that lingered that was reminiscent of the adrenaline rush from living out the freedom of being young with no responsibilities. You don’t remember who it was who called out the idea of playing seven minutes in heaven, but suddenly all of you were sitting in a circle spinning an empty bottle on Sukuna’s grandfather’s worn rug. Your heart sat at your throat, your eyes fixated on the piece of twirling glass, half wondering who it would land on. You watched as couples disappeared into Sukuna’s room, everyone snickering in a circle thinking about what the potential couples could possibly be doing. 

The boys were crude with their commentary, and the girls giggled with feign disgust. 

Some people came out looking displeased, clearly unamused by what they experienced, while others had a look of euphoria on their faces. 

When the bottle landed on you, the first person you found yourself seeking out was Sukuna. 

However, the other end of the bottle wasn’t pointing to him, but to one of his teammates. 

His friend’s eyes widen with intrigue, a cute smile forming on his pouty lips. 

Your own cheeks warmed with curiosity. 

He helped you onto your feet, but the two of you were struck with an abrupt question that had you pausing your movements. 

“Do you want to do this?” Sukuna pointedly asked, his focus on you alone and no one else. 

There was a grave but serious look resting firmly on his face. 

Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, though you couldn’t place why. With the eyes of everyone else on you and his teammate, you instantly wanted to divert the intense attention elsewhere. 

“Of course!” You said with a casual shrug, then grabbed his teammate’s hand and led him into Sukuna’s bedroom. 

You’ve been in here countless of times, never once feeling uncomfortable in this space. But this time, you were quite aware of the state of his bed, of the slightly rumpled sheets that were tugged from edge to edge. Your mouth went dry, your body suddenly trying to recollect every movie, book and comic that explained or depicted the intimacies between two people. 

Two hands touched your waist, spinning you on your feet. 

“Time’s ticking,” his friend said. “We shouldn’t waste it…” 

“I’ve never done this before…” you blurted out. 

“I haven’t either…” he answered kindly, and that made you feel better. 

“Okay…” you said, before placing your hands awkwardly on his shoulder. 

“Let’s just start with a kiss…” he suggested and then leaned forward. 

You were frozen then, unsure of what to do. You stood there with wide eyes as you felt his lips on yours, the sensation making your belly tingle. 

He pulled away. 

“That wasn’t too bed…” you admitted and he laughed. 

“Do you want to try?” He asked. 

Your first initiated kiss wasn’t magical, nor was it horrendous as some of your other friends experienced. Even now when you think about it - the only memory that hits you is one of innocent exploration. It took a minute for you to get comfortable with his prodding tongue, to figure out the clash between lips and teeth, and to allow his wet muscle to access our mouth and glide over your own. The sensation reminded you of sticky, tacky popsicles that clung to your lips in summers past. 

It was fun…until a loud bang startled you both, making you split from each other’s arms like opposing forces. 

“Time’s up,” Sukuna growled, before barging in without even so much as asking if you were decent like he did with the other pairs. 

The look he gave his teammate was terrifying, even you couldn’t help but gulp. 

His friend let out a nervous giggle, scratching the back of his head as he scurried his way out. “Damn, that was fast!” He tittered nervously, his voice cracking slightly towards the end. 

Sukuna narrowed his gaze as he watched him leave the room. Meanwhile, you both stood there facing each other, noticing his nostrils flaring as your breath rose and fell. 

“What?” You questioned, returning his hard stare with an even stronger glare. 

He huffed out a breath through his nose, “are you okay?” he asked, in an attempt to compose his clearly frazzled state. 

“Yes!” You blurted back, a little shaken. “Was that even seven minutes?” 

Sukuna grimaced, holding onto your eyes before he stormed out of his room, scoffing with annoyance at your response. 

Neither of you really spoke about the awkwardness of that moment, and instead carried into the heat of that summer like nothing even happened. 

But, what did hurt you after that, was that Sukuna never invited you to any of his “parties” again. 

He fibbed and said it was just “a team thing”, but you eventually heard about the other attendees at the party, and only through the grapevine found out about Sukuna’s first kiss.

It felt like a betrayal in its own way, this sudden shakiness in your friendship as uncertain as tectonic plates waiting to crash into a shattering earthquake. 

You called him one night to confront him, asking him why he wouldn’t tell you about his first kiss when you both should be able to talk about everything. But that conversation just resulted in an argument, a blow out that felt like a collapse in your world. 

You both didn’t speak to each other until the end of that summer, when Sukuna finally waved the white flag by crawling to your front door late one evening with some ice cream as a peace offering. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, while you both sat on the sidewalk, scooping wooden spoons into the tub of vanilla with chocolate chips. 

It’s the first time he’s ever apologized to you. 

Even when you were kids, Sukuna refused to ever say he was sorry. 

He would just pout angrily before over compensating with his sweetness to show you that he didn’t mean it. 

But not this time. 

You licked the vanilla off the spoon, biting down on the rich chocolate chunks, and hoping that the tears wouldn’t fall from your eyes from how your chest swelled at his remorse. 

Sukuna draped an arm around your shoulder, “I hate that things have been weird between us.” 

“You made them weird…” you mumbled and he just sighed. 

“‘Yes,” he begrudgingly admitted, “yes, I did…” 

You turned to look up at him, and he gave you a solemn smile. 

“I’m a little possessive of you, I realize…” he explained, his lips forming into that small frown, mirroring his childlike expression. 

“A little?” you answered back with a snarky tone. 

“You’re my best friend,” he admitted, his eyes downcast with regret. “You have always been my person.” 

“You’re my person too, ‘kuna…” you murmured, “but…but being best friends means that we have to trust each other. That we can’t just…hurt each other. That we should stop being honest or talking to one another when things get bad…that we can’t face things that make us…I don’t know, feel weird and stuff…” 

He rested his chin on the top of your head, the two of you finally bridging the gap of what seemed to be the first real challenge of your friendship. 

“It was a shit kiss…” he sighed, “I was just too fucking embarrassed to tell you.” 

You gazed up at him from underneath your lashes. 

“Why?” You said with a light laugh.  

Sukuna’s attention dipped to your mouth for a split second and back to your eyes again. “I don’t know. You just seemed to have enjoyed yours in comparison. I felt like I lost a game or something. I didn’t want to admit that mine was awkward and wet and just…not fucking good…” 

You laughed at that. 

“Everything with you is a competition…” 

“Not everything…” 

You nudged his stomach playfully with your elbow. “Do you remember when we played Mario Kart for the first time? When you lost three rounds in a row and nearly ripped my head off?” 

“How was I supposed to know you are freakishly good at that game?” 

You laughed, “I stay the reigning champion of rainbow road!” 

“You stay a pain in my ass…” 

You rolled your eyes, “a pain in your ass that will never leave you, so stop complaining about it…” 

Sukuna exhales, “It was…a bad kiss,” he admitted shyly, “She was so damn skittish, and I think I was too. I didn’t…I didn’t think it would be so…ugh. It was just not the right person…” 

“Or maybe you were just nervous…” you answered honestly. 

Sukuna shook his head. 

“No, I know it wasn’t the right person…” he said with confidence. 

You unraveled from his hold for a moment to look deep into those heated eyes. 

“Can I say something?” he questioned, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, a blush you’ve seen before but never realized how adorable it actually looked on him until this moment. 

“Anything”

“I don’t want you to think I am being weird or take this the wrong way…” Sukuna explained, pausing for a single breath before continuing. “I just thought the first person I would’ve kissed would have been…well, you… 

The world went still in that moment. All you could hear was the soft rustle of the trees in the distance, and all you could see was the open vulnerability of Sukuna’s heart resting on his face. 

It’s incredibly rare for him to even show it, your friend guarding that part of himself with such conviction. 

“Oh…” 

“But then I realized that you’re not supposed to be kissing your best friend,” he added on, stomping on the spark that flickered between you both before it even had a chance to even light. 

“No,” you agreed quickly, your eyes darting to the tub of ice cream. You pressed the back of your spoon into the creamy texture, doing your best to ignore the sudden pulse in your chest. 

“My second kiss was a lot better that’s for sure…” Sukuna rambled on, digging his spoon around yours as he scooped himself another serving of ice cream. “Way better actually…and on round three I think I got the hang of it…” 

You swallowed the tiny lump in your throat. “I don’t need to know the gross details, please,” you implored, though your stomach rolled with a hint of nausea at the reality that he’s kissed more people than you expected. 

You never admitted it out loud, but the confession made you a little jealous. 

If you were an option in his head…why didn’t he just ask? 

₊ ⊹ .

. 

Sukuna lost his virginity to a freshman college student a year later when he snuck into a party with two of his former teammates. You lost yours on the night of your graduation party to the same boy you kissed for the first time. You and Sukuna were expected to attend the same university (with him obtaining a full scholarship for academic excellence), but your friend had deviated from the shared path after being scouted. The two of you commuted to see each other often, with you visiting him when he was training and him stopping by the campus whenever he had free time. 

You and Sukuna knew about the other person’s intimate lives from the stories you shared, and despite continuously being plagued with constant accusations of being “more than friends”, you both agreed never to allow that discomforting prospect to intervene with your friendship again after that terribly awkward summer.

Rather than ignore the fact that you were growing to be even more beautiful by the day, Sukuna just became extremely blunt around you. He didn’t hide his eyes checking you out, noticing how your curves were starting to fill out and how you began to mature into your own features. He confidently spoke about how attractive you were, and often boosted your ego in ways that only enhanced your own confidence. 

You enjoyed reminding him that once upon a time he thought “girls were disgusting” and “looked funny”. 

“Let’s not forget I am the first guy to marry you,” he joked, recalling a game you both used to play where you pretended to be characters from a fantasy realm. 

“Actually you were the first dragon to marry me,” you clarified, because Sukuna loathed the prospect of playing a prince. “I don’t really think it counts…” 

“Maybe not - but all these guys fawning over you are going to find out you’re some kind of monster fucker and start running in the other direction…” 

It was safe to say that the banter between you both never changed.

You on the other hand, were recognizing just how handsome Sukuna was becoming too. You’ve seen him shirtless a million times up until this point, but something about watching the definition of muscle build into his new physique, and noticing the way manhood slowly enveloped his body, began to hit you in different ways. This was especially noticeable when you would watch him train in the ring, paying attention to the fact that Sukuna wasn’t built just like any average person. It didn’t even occur to you how incredibly strong he had become until he would lift or move your body around like you were weightless and not a living, breathing human with physical mass. 

One evening, while you both were walking back to your dorm from a dinner at a cheap ramen bar, Sukuna had the audacity to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder because “you couldn’t keep up with his pace”. 

All of a sudden, you were acutely aware that the scrawny boy that you used to protect was now all grown up. 

Sukuna morphed into brick and stone, while you were merely glass. 

For some reason, it put a strain on your heart. 

You guys really weren’t kids anymore. 

This was only solidified a year and a half into his career when Sukuna fought in his first professional tournament at twenty years old. The man dominated the ring against his opponent. He broke the record of the most knock outs and became a household name almost overnight. 

“The King”

Time moved at double speed after that. 

Your fingers that were clinging to bits of nostalgia weren’t able to keep them from it slipping between your grasp. Things were happening in a blur, and the sudden shift in Sukuna’s world felt like a birthing black hole in your own.

The night before Sukuna was flying off on his first world tour, the two of you were cooped up in your dorm room, snuggled underneath the blanket like you used to be when you were both kids. 

This time, it wasn’t awkward. 

You had both experienced love and lust in different ways up until that point. 

You knew that being this close didn’t have to mean anything risqué. 

You were comfortable with yourselves far more than you were five years ago.

“It’s going to be weird not seeing you all the time,” you whispered with a sniffle, while Sukuna traced the shell of your ear. 

Two silver chains mirrored one another, one on your neck and the other on his. It was your parting gift to him, a reminder to keep a piece of each other around when you couldn’t be together. 

You assumed Sukuna would find it stupid, but instead he clasped the necklace around himself before doing the same for you in silent contemplation. 

“I’ll keep in touch, brat” he soothed, but you could hear the ache in his voice too.

You circled your arms around his neck, eagerly clinging onto him as closely as you could for the little time you had. 

“I am really proud of you though,” you spoke, your shaky breath against his collar bone, a tear rolling down your cheek as you inhaled the herby scent of his soap. 

“I’m paying off your loans when the money really starts rolling in,” he chuckled against your temple. 

You shook your head with disapproval. “Just buy your grandpa something nice,” you insisted. “And make sure to spoil Yuji…” 

“That kid’s already spoiled…”

“But he’s a sweetheart,” you emphasized, “and I know he’s probably going to miss you more than me…” 

Sukuna hummed. “I wouldn’t be here without you.” 

You tilted your chin up as he dropped his head down, your noses merely inches apart. You relaxed the muscles on your face, your thumb reaching to smooth the crease from between his brows. 

“God knows what would have happened if you didn’t save my sorry ass back when we were kids…” he said with an easy smile. 

“You would have eventually fought back,” you giggled, “besides, you don’t need me protecting you anymore…” you pointed out, your voice a little breathless, and your anxious mind running on the concern of if you might even fit into Sukuna’s new life after this. 

He wrapped his arms around you, bringing you into the seam of his frame. 

“I always need you,” he confessed, and those words were enough to make you break as the pain of his departure finally collided into you. 

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna went off to having an extremely successful boxing career. 

At twenty-two, he had turned into one of the hottest sports stars the industry has ever seen. 

He had win after his win under his belt, and the second he partnered with Uraume it was a match made in heaven. 

He was insanely good, and with Uraume by his side, he was now unstoppable. 

You were provided tickets to any of his fights, accompanied with private transportation and accommodation if necessary. Sukuna always made sure that you were well take care of, and you always accepted because it was the only time you were able to actually see him. Those few days were precious together, before you had to depart and return to the real world once again. Each of Sukuna’s fights was a mesmerizing experience. There was something about his flow in the ring that managed to make everything else around him blur. 

He was strong, but agile. 

Brutal but swift with his movements. 

He moved with regal precision, a dancer that understood the rhythms of strength. 

Everyone challenged him, but all of them failed. 

Ryomen Sukuna was a force to be reckoned with. 

Despite the distance, you and Sukuna always made a conscious effort at keeping in touch with each other. You may not be physically there in each other’s presence, but not a day went by without a phone call or multiple texts.

At twenty-seven, Sukuna was at the peak of his stardom. Your best friend found himself tangled between the world of fame and fortune, alongside his old life of normalcy and humble peace. He made good on his promises; setting up a trust fund to ensure that Yuji was well taken care of in every capacity. He paid off all your loans in secret because he knew you would never accept it from him upfront. He bought his grandfather a home in Osaka for him to retire to. And his peace offering to his mom was renovating their old, broken home into something new and vibrant for her to live her life happily now that she seemed to have finally settled down in her third marriage. Sukuna even offered to take care of his step brother, Choso. They may not have been personally close, but he was grateful that Choso was keeping a watchful eye on Yuji. 

Your own life was starting to unfurl as well - you had graduated university, were experiencing your first serious relationship, navigating various friendships and landing your first job. It all felt normal compared to Sukuna, but the man never minimized your experiences. 

When you were together, it’s like nothing had even changed, but the moment your realities bled into each other, it was a constant reminder of how just how far apart your lives actually were. 

You were harassed by the paparazzi who constantly overstepped. 

Sukuna’s boundaries were crossed by the people you knew because everyone wanted a moment with the star. 

You found yourself in environments with the rich whose beauty, wealth and status seemed far out of your reach. 

Sukuna found himself being treated more like an object than a person. 

And yet, you both seemed to be settling down into your own versions of the life you were creating - always weaving the other person in no matter the obstacle.

At twenty-eight, Sukuna had earned more money than he could even imagine, and was still somehow only moving onwards and up. He was plastered on every magazine cover, was the the center of attention on social media by his most dedicated and loyal fans. He was stalked and obsessed over, admired and feared. Networks wanted to feature him on shows, movies and every talk show. The man was a composition of everything that people were projecting onto him. 

He had become an untouchable to the eyes of every living mortal. 

But to you, and just you - he would always be the little boy who was far too small for this big world. 

After years of flings with influencers, models, and high end socialites - it seemed that Sukuna was finally settling down with one of the top actresses in the industry. The moment the two of them were caught kissing at a party, their secret was revealed to the public. 

You, however, knew all the details of the ways in which Sukuna was slowly wooing her. 

At this point you’ve both grown tolerant of hearing about the other person’s love life. And at this time especially, you weren’t affected by Sukuna’s first serious relationship because you and your boyfriend were discussing the possibility of marriage which felt close on the horizon.  You had just bought your first house, and was considering the big gesture of having him move in with you. You had gotten an incredible promotion at work, and for the first time you felt a sense of stability that you had never really experienced before. 

“We should have dinner together!” You offered one night to Sukuna over the phone. 

“The four of us?” He questioned. 

“Yeah, I mean…you know Sousuke really well…” 

“Yeah, and he hates me…” 

“But I haven’t met Mei yet…and no, Sousuke doesn’t “hate you”…”

“I hate to break it to you, Princess. But the guy can’t stand me…” 

You glanced towards your boyfriend who was sitting on the sofa, his attention on the television show he was watching. You stepped away from the living room, and quietly made your way to the bedroom. 

“’kuna…” you spoke, your throat catching, “I think…I think he might propose…” 

“What?!” He exclaimed and you had to pull the phone away. 

“Jeez! Don’t shout! You’re going to make me pop an ear drum!” 

He groaned. 

You sighed, “we’ve been talking about it…and I just…I just really want you guys to get along is all.  I just think you guys are just not seeing eye to eye…” 

Sukuna remained oddly quiet on the phone. 

“Can you say something?” You begged. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, “we can do dinner at my place. The paparazzi have been hounding me trying to get any shot they can find of me and Mei. I would rather we don't go anywhere public...” 

You smiled, “dinner is perfect!” 

At first glance, the dinner seemed like a complete success. 

The four of you chatted and enjoyed your night like you were all old friends, especially after Sousuke got over his starstruck moment when he met Mei. You and Sukuna told stories of your years together, inviting your partners to the pieces of your lives that you both shared. You could see that Sukuna was clearly attracted to Mei, and in turn he could see that you were happy with Sousuke. The night felt like a convergence without an implosion - an easy going settlement on the two roads that you and your friend had taken. 

That’s why when your boyfriend called things off with you three months later, it took you completely by surprise. 

Nothing in this world could have prepared you for that heartbreak. 

It was a grieving period, a dark time of mourning that had you glued to your bed most days. This life that you had been carefully piecing together toppled like dominos. After breaking the news to Sukuna, you spent two weeks isolating yourself from anything and everything else. 

Your best friend couldn’t stand seeing you in this state, and showed up at your door out of the blue one evening.

You burst into tears at the sight of him.

He was there to mend your broken heart, and he never left your side. He told his team that he was taking a much needed break, and during that time made sure that you were fed and comfortable. He handled any extra chores, slept on the floor in your bedroom every night so that you weren’t alone. He spent hours with you in silence while you wept, listened to you angrily vent your frustrations on how your ex could treat you this way. 

One night, he woke up and realized that you weren’t in bed. He searched for you, finding you in the kitchen staring at a small pile of bridal magazines. 

Your clothes were rumpled, you hadn’t changed or freshened up since that morning. 

Sukuna didn’t say anything, just placed two hands on your shoulders and turn you away from the painful memories. 

You gasped and hiccuped into his chest. 

“I couldn’t sleep…” you explained, “I r-remembered that I still had these, and just…just wanted them gone…” 

Sukuna tenderly stroked the back of your neck. “You know,” he said, his voice deeper than the ocean itself, the tone the texture of velvet. “I can always break his fucking legs…” 

The comment made you choke out a laugh. 

“It’ll ruin your career,” you whimpered. “It’s not worth it…” 

“For you,” he soothed, his thumb lightly tracing the space where the base of your neck and spine connected. “It’s always worth it” 

₊ ⊹ .

The blunder in Sukuna’s career hit early last year, when his relationship with Mei fell apart and resulted in one of the worst break ups that people have ever seen. Mei released a public, viral video that had millions of views and thousands of shares. She accused Sukuna of cheating for the entirety of their two year relationship, crying crocodile tears on camera over how she was simply another trophy that he could successfully claim while his heart always belonged to someone else. 

That video made your blood boil. 

You knew Sukuna wasn’t perfect - but if there was one thing you would never doubt about that man it was his loyalty. 

You saw it towards grandfather, to Yuji, to Uraume, and even yourself. 

That man scoffed at the prospect of cheating, believing it to be a cowardice act. 

And Sukuna was no coward. 

Even in prior relationships, he was always clear about where he stood. If he couldn’t commit to something, he made it perfectly known. You still didn’t know what it was about Mei that had him finally let his walls down. But when they were together, he looked perfectly content. Every desire and every fantasy he dreamt up in his youth had finally been accomplished. But all you knew about their break up was that things weren’t working out, and Sukuna wasn’t willing to share more than that. 

You were being respectful of his privacy, understanding firsthand how tough this kind of heartbreak can be. 

He called you when the Mei's video first broke out, his voice strained. 

“You know it’s not true, right?” He questioned before even saying hello. 

“Ryo, of course I know that-” 

“I’m not a little bitch who would cheat. I would never do that. Nor am I that fucking stupid thinking I would ever get away with it-”

“I know…” you reassured, hearing the apprehension laced through his words. “Ryomen, I know you. I know you better than anyone else in this world.”

He breathed a long sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if you might have been convinced otherwise”  

Your stomach tightened. 

“But if you believe me, then I don’t give a fuck about anyone else.” 

Something about that conversation clung onto you, it sat like a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t quite possibly shrug off. The tabloids, news outlets and social media accounts were throwing ingredients upon ingredients into the rumor pot that was bubbling and boiling over. On top of that, a new rising star had just entered the boxing world, and Sukuna was suddenly dealing with brutal comparisons to the younger, hotter talent that was Satoru Gojo. 

You were the one who offered to take him out to dinner to get his mind off of things, not realizing just how bad it actually was for him. 

When a gossip magazine posted the photos of you both huddled together (as you have done many times before) while having an ordinary dinner, it spun your world inside and out. Though the pictures were quite blurry, there were a few people who were able to recognize you. You were being harassed at your work, interrogated by your friends and were even being accused of being “the other woman”.

The worst part is was when Mei fed into the chaos, making a follow up post and stating that “a woman always knows, and is always right” in regards to her break up situation with Sukuna.

She may not have explicitly said it, but her fingers were pointing at you.  

You don’t know how your address got leaked, but when you started finding paparazzi stalking you in your own home it became far too much for you to handle. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, was infuriated. 

This whole time he was disengaged by what was going on, but once you were caught in the mix of this mess, it seemed that he was suddenly ready to cause equal destruction. 

He sued his ex for defamation, sued multiple media outlets for harassment. He had Higuruma Hiromi, one of the top lawyers in his field, at the helm of this take down, and the second he shot back, it had everyone scurrying in retreat. 

The tabloids, blogs and magazines all redacted the photos of you, reducing your digital footprint. 

His ex, under pressure of Sukuna’s threats, came out with a public apology so that he would drop the charges against her and help her avoid her own PR nightmare. 

The rest of Sukuna’s anger was taken out on the ring, with people seeing another side of what The King could unleash. 

His match against Hajime Kashimo was one of the bloodiest in boxing history, his opponent left crimson and defeated despite seemingly holding a strong front in the beginning. 

They dubbed him: “The Monster of The Ring” after that. 

The damage was already done, and the stress of it all was starting to hurt Sukuna’s focus. When he nearly got disqualified in a match, that is when Uraume intervened, and felt it was necessary to include you in the discussion. 

You’ve always had a complicated relationship with Uraume. They respected you, but you know it’s only because of your mutual relationship with Sukuna. Uraume, however, has made snide remarks  towards you when you were both alone - about how you were merely a distraction when dangled in front of his champion’s eyes.

“I think some time apart would do you both good,” they said. “They are never going to stop hounding you because they think there is something more going on, and besides…we can’t have Sukuna fucking up with Gojo now in the mix. We need to show the world that he’s still as strong and as relevant as ever…” 

“It’ll die down,” Sukuna stated with frustration. 

The both of them bickered over it. It was the first time you have ever witnessed them in a heated exchanged. Your heart started to hurt because you were aware how all of this was only making your best friend see in shades of red. 

He wasn’t himself. 

He wasn’t thinking clearly. 

This was impacting him.  

You getting involved in this was impacting him. 

“Ryomen,” you said seriously, placing your hand over his. “I think Uraume is right…” 

The man turned to you, his fingers lacing between your own subconsciously as he squeezed it tightly in disbelief. 

It was the first time you’ve ever seen him hurt. 

“It’s just a short time apart,” you said with a comforting smile, “once everyone gets bored we can resume our lives in peace. But right now, I can see this taking a toll on you…” 

He furrowed the front of his brows. 

“Uraume is looking out for you, and I think what they are saying makes sense. Don’t you?” 

“No, I fucking don’t…” he snapped, his eyes glaring at his manager who remained stoic as ever. 

“Don’t let your emotions get the better of you,” they remarked, “I know a part of you agrees with what I have to say.” 

“You’re not in the right state of mind, and you need to be” 

“It’s for your own good,” Uraume insisted. "You are gambling with your career. With your legacy"

The decision was mutual but entirely heartbreaking all the same. Sukuna drew the circus away, and it broke you when you realized that in order to protect you, he had to sacrifice something in return. 

The comfort of your friendship, the sanctuary of your company.

It was the price of fame, and one that he was willing to keep paying. 

As a result of this tough decision, Sukuna had grown cold. Not because he was being mean or cruel, but because he thought he was offering you some peace of mind. Because he thought that by withdrawing from you, it would make the pain of the separation easier. He wanted this distance to be a clean break for the both of you, and while he honored keeping in touch, it was just at the bare minimum because his calls and texts were few and far between. 

The most you saw of him was on a screen, and you could see that Sukuna was miserable. 

He was turning into something vicious in the ring, a violent machine that people glorified. He wasn’t moving with the fluidity of an artist that you used to admire when you first started watching him fight. There was a sense of brutality that was now a part of his make up. 

Sukuna was no longer a man, he was a beast. 

His persona was dwindling into only intimidation. Every interview, every guest appearance, and every social occasion was met with detachments or disinterest. He was growing snarky and irritable, no longer willing to charm the people around him. 

Satoru Gojo was the first to shoot at Sukuna with his words, dredging up his painful break up and even dragging you back into the fold with his commentary. The two of them grew to have a very intense rivalry. They exchanged heated arguments on social media, smack talked the other person in live interviews and had tense interactions in public. 

The press and the people were eating up every single second of it.

On the eve of his thirty-first birthday, you received a call from Uraume. 

“We are back in the city,” they said, “Sukuna needs to start training up for his match against Satoru Gojo.” 

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. 

“Why didn’t he tell me he was back?” You asked softly. 

Uraume sighed, “I don’t have to tell you that he’s been in a fowl mood. The agency is throwing a huge birthday party for him tonight which he is refusing to attend…” 

“So, why are you calling me?” 

“Because…” Uraume sighed, “he’s about to fly to close to the sun, and I can see he needs an anchor to bring him down to Earth a little bit…” 

Your cheeks burned at the statement. “Are you saying I am his anchor?” 

“I am saying it’s been almost a year since he last saw you…” Uraume explained, “And I don’t want him feeling awful on his birthday. I care about him too, you know?” 

You nodded your head, “No, of course. I know that.” 

“I told him that I would stop by to pick him up for the party, but I think giving him a nice surprise might do him so good. Remind the guy to enjoy himself a little…” 

“You’re sweet,” you said with a smile. 

“As are you, my dear,” Uraume replied tenderly. 

“My, my, are you actually giving me a compliment?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” they remarked playfully, and you felt a hint of ease realizing that things might not be as cold between you both as you thought. 

That Uraume was really only ever considering Sukuna's well being first, just like you.

₊ ⊹ .

Uraume made sure that you got to Sukuna’s place in one piece and without anyone knowing that you were even there. You clasped your best friend's present between your fingers, your exposed body shivering from the cold air as you rode the elevator up to his penthouse apartment.

It felt right to dress up; you wore a white mini dress with a mesh overlay that had little embroidered detailing on the fabric. There were cut outs in the back, with an adjustable strap from behind cinching the bodice perfectly to your shape. Your kitten heels clicked against the floor, the nerves suddenly tingling their way up your legs as you thought about what Sukuna’s reaction might even be. 

This year felt like a century in the timeline of your friendship. 

You knocked on his door gently, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. 

You could hear the trudge of footsteps from behind the frame, Sukuna’s voice bellowing as he spoke. 

“Uraume, for the last fucking time, I told you I am not going, and if you force it I will fire you on the spot-” 

He swung the door open and froze. 

“Surprise!” You squeaked lightly, awkwardly lifting the gift in your hands. “I got you a present!” 

Sukuna blinked once and then twice, his lips parting as if he’s seen a ghost. 

“Uraume asked me to come,” you explained. “They told me that you guys were back…” 

He stood there dumbfounded, for once rendered completely speechless. 

You cleared your throat, feeling a warmth rippling over your skin as the man gave you a once over. His eyes flickered down your body, hovering over all the parts of your exposed skin. Your bare thighs, your décolletage, and up the nape of your neck. 

“T-they wanted you to have fun on your birthday,” you added on with an apprehensive grin, “they actually suggested maybe a quiet night in and thought you might just want to spend it with an old friend instead of a bunch of people you probably don’t even like…” 

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pressing into a firm line. 

He looked…upset. 

Was he not happy to see you? 

“Uhm,” you mumbled, your fingers toying with the ribbon at the odd dismissal and lack of enthusiasm, “I-I don’t have to stay, but I did just want to wish you a happy birthday…” 

You took a small step forward, holding the present up as an offering. “Happy birthday, ‘Kuna…” you said with a quiet warble in your voice and feeling like a complete idiot for showing up. The disappointment of his response sat heavily on your chest.

He lifted his hand, gripping the present as he plucked it out of your grasp. You cleared your throat, anxiously scratching the back of your ear as you lifted up the strap of your dress which fell on your right shoulder. 

“I’ll just…” you added on in defeat, gesturing behind you to indicate that you were leaving. 

You didn’t even notice his arm sling behind your waist when your eyes fell downcast. 

Suddenly you were pulled over the threshold, the door closing behind you in a bang before your back was pressed up against the wooden frame. Your gaze lifted up to Sukuna, your pupils widening when you you were met with his menacing stare. 

“You know,” you said with a gulp, hoping to the ease the tension as you tried to catch your breath. “You really do look like a dragon when you scowl like that…” 

“Are you stupid?” He spat with irritation. “What if someone saw you come over? We just got the press off our backs…” 

Your pulse hit the base of your throat. “Uraume ensured that no one was around…” 

“I thought we agreed to take time apart…” he argued, ignoring your words. “You agreed.” 

“You’re mad...” You pointed out, the tip of your nose wincing as you pursed your lips. 

“I’m not mad, I’m furious…” he said with irritation. “I’m trying to keep you out of this fucking chaos and you just waltz in, in this sorry excuse of a dress, like everything is perfectly fine?!” 

You looked down at your outfit, and folded your arms over your chest. 

“I…” you spoke, your voice trailing off as your shoulders slumped. 

You didn’t even know if you should apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong and this wasn’t even your idea to begin with. You’ve also never seen Sukuna speak to you this way before, and your confidence bubbled when you recognized that this...wasn’t him. 

You straightened your back, tilting your chin up to face him with defiance. 

You’re the only person in the world who willingly challenges him. 

You don’t even have to raise a fist to watch him break. 

He was pushing you away, the same way he did when you found him on the ground of that kindergarten because that’s what Sukuna does when he’s hurting the most. 

“God, you’re just as miserable as look…” you pointed out with a quirk of your brow. 

His jaw twitched. 

“I don’t give a shit who catches me here,” you boldly claimed, “I miss my best friend…” you added before shoving his shoulder, “and you, you asshole, have no excuse for not telling me that you are back home. Just because I agreed to us spending some time apart, that doesn’t mean you get to just...cut me off like that. To not call me, to barely answer my texts, and to just push me away like I don’t matter to you…” 

Sukuna winced, taking a step closer to seal the gap of space between you both. He brought his head lower, dipping his forehead to press against your own. Your spine seized in that moment, your lips parting feeling the heat of his breath on your skin. 

You were expecting a rebuttal, but this…this wasn’t what you thought would happen. 

“You are a pain in my ass…” he whispered, closing his eyes as he circled his free arm around your waist, “and the only thing that matters to me…” 

He nudged his face closer, so close you swore to yourself that he might kiss you, before tracking his lips along your jaw and cradling his forehead in the crook of your neck instead. 

Your right hand moved him to touch his shoulder, your face contorting with a hint of concern. 

You felt it then, something wet on your skin where his forehead lay, and you took in a sharp breath as Sukuna tightened his arm around your waist. 

“You shouldn’t have come…” he took a deep inhale against your neck, smelling your skin before clearing his throat from any shakiness. 

“You said that already…” you grumbled unamused. 

“Stubborn woman, you never listen...” he breathed in once more, “God, I fucking missed you.” 

₊ ⊹ .

Sukuna opened his present once everything was settled, and once he finally embraced the reunion without questioning any other factors. He laughed at your little DIY stress kit that you put together for him. You both ordered in pizza, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa with the open cardboard box between you. You talked, and talked, and talked into the late hours of the night.  Until there were only crumbs on the bottom of the box which Sukuna placed on the coffee table. The bottle of champagne that you have both been nursing was nearly empty. 

Drunk on each other, with a belly full of food and simplistic joy settling in. Sukuna leaned against the arm rest, sprawling his long legs and patting his thigh sweetly. 

“C’mere…” 

Your heart hammered, and you bit the rim of your champagne glass before obliging. 

You stood up, swaying a little and watching his hungry eyes blatantly check you out as you sat on his lap. Sukuna adjusted his position, before dropping his palm on your thigh, his touch stroking up and down your skin. 

“What’s going on with you?” You inquired, placing your elbow on his shoulder as you rested your warm cheek against your palm. 

You were looking at him with concern, noticing his face sink. 

He rubbed one hand over the exhausted expression, an intoxicated blush painting his cheeks. 

“The press are worse than ever. After Mei, it’s been…relentless. The stories they are coming up with, the things that they are saying about me. I went from being on top of the world to being the guy everyone loves to fucking hate. And with every fight I go into, people are just waiting for me to wash up. The cherry on top of this whole fucking thing is Satoru Gojo, who won’t stop running his fucking mouth. I want cut the little shit in half…” 

You smiled, not to be condescending, but out of gratitude that you both easily slipped back into the shell of your own comfort. “Ryomen, he’s twenty-one years old. Do you not remember how you were at that age?” 

He rolled his eyes. “I had more class than he did…” 

“But you were aggressive,” you reminded, “You weren’t afraid to tear down the legends that predated you.” 

“So, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying that maybe Satoru drew inspiration from somewhere…” 

You placed the champagne glass on his chest, your fingers holding the stem as you swirled the liquid around gently. The silence hung in the air because Sukuna knew you were right, but there were other lingering questions pressing you at the same time. And thanks to the alcohol, you had all the courage you needed to ask.

“What happened with Mei?” You wondered, shifting your gaze to meet his. 

Sukuna’s index finger tapped up and down your thigh in contemplation. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head before swallowing the lump in his throat. “Nothing.” 

You quirked your brow again, taking a swig of your champagne. 

Sukuna used his free hands to wrap around your own, and he pulled the glass away from you to take a sip himself. 

“Why won’t you tell me?” 

He chugged the rest of your drink, and placed it on the ground beside him. 

“Ryomen…” 

“Don’t push me, brat…” 

“But why not?” You wondered, “I just…it just seemed like you both were so happy and then all of a sudden…” 

He dropped his head back against the arm rest and stared up at the ceiling. From underneath his black shirt you saw the silver chain poking through. 

Your heart tightened. 

You drew one hand on the locket, your finger curling underneath as your thumb tracked over the texture of the necklace. 

“You’re still wearing it…” you mumbled. 

Sukuna faced you. “I never take it off. Only when I have to get in the ring…” His eyes shifted to your exposed, naked neck, and you mindlessly reached for the silver chain that you were currently not wearing. 

“I don’t wear it on certain occasions…” you explained guiltily, “only because I am afraid that I might lose it.” 

“Plus, it wouldn’t go with this dress...” Sukuna nonchalantly added on and you laughed at his comment. 

He sighed in defeat. “The necklace was a small reason,” he opened up. “Mei hated that I wore it all the time. She would badger me about taking it off. The time I spent with you after Sousuke didn’t help…” he added, treading the delicate topic with as much sensitivity as he could, “she accused me for cheating. I told her she needed to back off because you and I had a history that predates her. I told her that if the roles were reversed, you would be there for me because you have always been there for me…” 

Your body froze. 

“She would pick fights with me over everything about you. Finally I had enough, and told her she needed to fucking trust me if this was going to work. But things never went back to the way they used to. It was always up and down with Mei. Finally, when she had enough, she told me that I had a choice to make. Either I cut you off for us to happily together. Or…she leaves…” 

You sat up, staring at him with wide eyes and shock.  

“I’m…” you gasped, “I’m the reason why you both broke up?” 

The guilt struck you harder than you expected, and you looked down at Sukuna’s torso shamefully as you recalled the state of yourself post-break up, thinking of all the moments where you might have potentially stolen precious time away from his former lover. 

“Ryomen, I am so…I am so sorry…” 

Two fingers brushed underneath your chin, and Sukuna lifted your head so you could see him. 

“I picked you,” he confessed, “I picked you.” 

“But-” 

“There is no “but”,” he said with a shake of his. “We’ve been in each other’s lives for over two decades. You are my person. You are my family. You…”, he sighed, “you didn’t deserve what happened afterwards...”

His hands trailed up until his digits caught the hem of your dress. 

“I’m keeping my distance to protect you..."

“But you loved her,” you gasped, “I saw it. I saw you both. I would’ve…I would’ve stepped aside. If I was causing any issues, I would’ve…respected your boundaries. I love you, Ryomen. I just want you to be happy, and if that means that I take a step back-” 

“I did love her,” Sukuna interjected, the heat of gaze flicking upward, the rims slightly red from the alcohol he consumed. “But I love you more…” 

He drew all the air out of your lungs with the slip of his tongue, making you perch yourself up so you were actually looking directly at him. His pupils were dilated, widening as if to give you access to the depths of his soul. In all your years you’ve known him, you don’t think the two of you ever actually exchanged those words. It was always veiled with “I care for you,”, “I adore you,” “You’re my person,” and “this is why we are best friends.” 

But love… 

That felt forbidden to say out loud, even though you both knew that the root of your friendship was only built on love, it shouldn't have come as such a shock to you for the confession to slip so naturally.

You gaze longingly into each other’s eyes, in a way that you haven’t since you were both sixteen years old. 

Wondering…

Considering…

“I don’t…” you said quietly, sitting upright as he shifted beneath you. 

You wound up straddling him, both your hands resting on his shoulders while his own continued to tease the hem of your dress. 

“I don’t know what to say…” you exhaled. 

Sukuna pinched the fabric between his thumb and index finger, allowing the silence to hang for a few minutes before switching the subject. 

“Did you dress up for me?” He joked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his devilish mouth. He slid one hand underneath your dress, making you gasp as his touch moved dangerously high up your thigh. 

“Wanted to look cute,” you murmured, your words lacing tightly together as the champagne danced across your tongue. You felt a pulse radiate between your legs, and you unknowingly clenched much to Sukuna’s amusement.  

“Cute for me?” He coaxed. 

“Cute in general,” you remarked. 

His other hand sprawled across your back, and you knew he was testing his boundaries.

“Ryomen…” you warned, but it only made him break out into a full grin. His irises were drowning in lust and inebriation, and your own were falling in suit. 

The hand on your hip dragged up further, until his fingers brushed over the string of your underwear. You scratched your nails down his chest, feeling your back arch into his palm as you mindlessly rolled your hips.

His lips moved to your ear, that mellifluous voice dangerously close. “Let’s play a game…” 

He squeezed the fat of your hip, his weight lifting you up and the entire room spun as he pinned you underneath him when he switched your positions. He locked you against the plush sofa with his thighs, a throaty laugh coming through from your sudden squeak of surprise. 

“Let’s see you try to get out of this one, Princess...” He teased, his teeth nipping at the side of your throat. “Or you’ll end up being my dinner…” 

Your body vibrated from the sensation of his touch. You gripped his jaw firmly and pulled his face towards you, your brows furrowing at the proclamation of a challenge. 

“It’s not fair to go against a boxing champion,” you argued, your spine curving as Sukuna slipped his other thigh between your legs. 

He dropped his head to the base of your throat, his teeth catching the sensitive spot just above your collar bone, “don’t worry,” he soothed over the gentle bite, “I’ll play fair…”

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled through gritted teeth. 

“You’re fault for waltzing into the dragon’s lair…” he alerted, quoting the very same line he used to when you would both play this silly fantasy game together. 

But you’re not wielding plastic swords and entering into the enemies domain with a sense of courage. Now, it felt like playing with fire. Your skin was burning at the contact, at Sukuna’s weight over your throbbing body. When he nibbled on your neck again, your hand gripped onto the back of his head, tugging his hair a little roughly as you pulled him away. 

Sukuna purred. 

“You’ve never been able to beat me…” you teased, giving into the world of make believe just one more time but speaking the truth regarding this fact. “I’ve always been your biggest challenge…” 

“Watch me win tonight,” he pushed with confidence, reaching for your wrist and pinning it above your head. 

“And what are the rules here exactly?” You quipped, your tongue tingling and your body buzzing with excitement and curiosity. “Am I supposed to kill the dragon and win back my castle?” 

Sukuna laughed, his eyes darkening as he pressed his forehead to yours once more. 

“No need to draw any swords. Let’s play a game of submission…” he boldly claimed, and your attention flickered to find his brazen smile burning even brighter on his face. “First person to cum loses” 

“Are you making a move on me?” You light heartedly disputed. 

“Not at all,” Sukuna maintained, but you can tell from his tone that he’s veiling the truth.

There was something hard pressing up against you, and you had a feeling it was a nudge for some relief. 

“It’s the dress isn’t it?” you giggle.

“If you even call it a dress…” 

“Can’t handle a little skin?” 

“I don’t want to shock you by telling you got me half hard just showing up,” he confessed, something unfolding in your drunken stupor. 

“I can feel you…” you sighed, and the man hummed as he molded his body into you.

You felt him twitch, and it made your thighs tremble. 

“We had too much champagne,” you informed. 

“That we did” 

“We should probably stop…” you exhaled, your lashes fluttering when you felt his thigh flex against your cunt. 

“Do you want to?” Sukuna asks, his voice growing serious. His hand on your hip tugs at the string of your underwear, and he releases it with a snap as it pinches back against your skin. 

You licked your lips, your brain too fuzzy to contradict what your heart wanted. “You know I will never back down from a challenge with you…” 

“That's what I like about you,” Sukuna adoringly praises. 

“And we both know you’re going to lose, right?” 

Your throat shrinks, Sukuna’s hand gliding over your pubis to press the drenched spot against your underwear. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Princess,” he advices ominously, “we’ve never played a game like this before.” 

₊ ⊹ .

Clothes had to stay on - that was the rule you both agreed with. 

To keep things fair. 

To keep it…playful. 

Your nipples pebbled, poking hard against the fabric of your dress as Sukuna sucked on the skin of your neck. You knew for a fact that he was leaving a mark there, and all you could do was bite back as his mouth trailed down the column and over the slope of your breast. You whimpered when he tugged at your clothed nipple with with his teeth, making the muscles in your leg seize from the sudden contact. 

You had to do something, and so you reached your hand between your legs to lightly graze over his erection pressing against his sweats. 

Sukuna groaned, and you sniggered at the reaction. 

You lifted your head and neck, bringing your mouth to his own ear. 

“You know,” you seductively stated, your fingers outlining the length of his hard member. “The first time I ever touched myself was after watching you practice in the ring…” 

Sukuna cursed under his breath, your fingers squeezed around his length. You proceeded to stroke the heat of his member, striking hard for your first blow. “And I always do whenever I watch you fight. I get so hot and bothered seeing you in the ring. I even have a a specific vibrator I use…I named it after you…” 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed when you snuck your hand underneath his waistband, bringing your touch even closer as you palmed him over his boxers. 

“I’ve never told you that secret…” you declared, bringing your own teeth to his earlobe which you tugged mercilessly. 

Sukuna lost himself for a moment, making you think this was going to be an easy win. But you heard him steady his breathing, could his muscles flexing as if to tame his own body back from giving in.  

“I heard you once…” he stammered suddenly, closing his eyes as he recollected his memories. “Back when you were living in the dorm. I came over to drop off something, and you…ugh, fuck-…you were in the bathroom…moaning. I thought you were in pain at first, until I realized…” 

Your own cheeks burned at his confession, the surprise making you ease your grip. 

Sukuna grabbed your wrist then and pulled you away from his crotch. He placed it on your breast, and you absentmindedly pinched your nipple as he slid his hand between your legs. He lowered himself down, slithering underneath you and making your ears sting with vexation. He pushed your dress over your thighs, exposing your light colored underwear. The noticeable wet patch made his eyes glitter with satisfaction. 

“I would have jacked off on the spot, but I left. I was clearly intruding on a private matter, but that didn’t stop me from blowing a load the second I made it to my place,” he carries on, bringing his nose and pressing it against your slit. “So fucking sweet…” 

You tried to push his head away, and in response he dragged his tongue over the moist patch on your underwear. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your hips bucking from the sensation. 

“You’re the first person I think of when I touch myself,” he revealed, humming as his tongue lewdly licked over your underwear. 

Your whole lower belly tingled, your arousal only slicking the fabric. 

You needed to distract him from carrying on, but Sukuna hooked two fingers underneath your underwear and tugged them to the side. 

You sat up on your forearms, pressing your thighs against his cheeks to stop him from diving in. 

“Don’t cheat,” you sternly addressed, but Sukuna only scoffed vindictively. 

“You’re still wearing them, Princess…” he pointed out, and the loophole made your core pulse with anticipation. “This isn’t cheating…” 

With your panties tugged aside, Sukuna used two fingers to spread the lips apart. 

He was staring at your pussy, studying it like it was the first one he’s ever looked at. 

You wanted to say something, to ask what he was doing. But to your surprise he just placed a gentle kiss on your clit before murmuring sweetly into your sex. “You’re beautiful,” Sukuna complimented, as if expressing a blessing before a meal then finally dragging his wet tongue up along the slit of your exposed pussy. 

“You’re ch-cheating…” was all you could think of blubbering out in the haze of lust, feeling the vibration of his laugh as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder. 

It hits you then - the fact that this man indulges in going down on women. Though he never explicitly shared all the lewd details with his past partners, he did mention how it was “his favorite thing to do”. After all these years, you finally get to experience it for yourself. Feel how he latches onto your pussy as your arousal drips like he’s pouring honey out of the jar and slurping the sticky, creamy essence. You whine when he prods his tongue between your folds, expertly sliding the muscle as he rolls it in gentle waves to stir a budding orgasm. Your fingers intertwine around his locks, reading to yank him off until he slurps and sucks in just the right spot that has you simply massaging his scalp instead. 

“…’kuna~…” you mewl, your nails dragging over his scalp. 

The man circles his mouth over your tender clit, sucking on the bud before pressing another kiss on the nub. 

Your pussy throbs when he pulls away, but you were proud for holding back. 

It was your opportunity to distract him, and you shrugged off one of your straps to pull down your dress to expose your left breast. Sukuna’s attention flickered upward, watching you tweak at the hard nub as you gave him a shy grin. 

“The felt really good,” you breathily whined. 

He began crawling his way back up, and you used this opportunity to lift your body upright. He was distracted, wasn't even thinking about you finding a way out of this position. His lips instantly latched onto your nipple, his hands gripping the fat of your ass as he sucked on the point feverishly. 

You licked your lips, doing everything in your power not to fall back into the black hole of his gripping dominance.

When he released you, you instantly pushed his back against the couch and climbed on top of him so you were safely straddling him again. You forcefully dragged your wet cunt over his erection, leaving a little trail of you to stain the fabric of his pants. Sukuna grunted with pleasure, bucking his hips as you ground yours. 

“You’re not as sharp with me,” you giggled, languidly gliding your cunt over his begging member. 

“Because you’re fucking distracting,” Sukuna grieves, his hands clenching into tight balls by his side as he refuses to grab onto your ass and push for more friction. 

You felt him sink, using his shoulders as leverage to keep you perched in just the right position so your pussy was rubbing over his cock. You bit back a sound of pleasure from leaving you, and instead exhale softly as you continue rocking back and forth. 

“You’re big everywhere aren’t you,” you tantalized, noting the way his jaw tense as a rumble erupted from his chest in a deep groan which morphed into a slightly sinister laugh. 

“Let me show you.” 

He lifted his hips, making you pause at the sudden awkward shift. He pushed his sweat pants down just to meet the end of his boxers. The removal of the first layer was a small relief, but your eyes widened as he settled back down. His erection was tenting, pressing up against the thin black material and making you see a clear distinction of his balls and thick shaft. 

“Go on then,” he tempted. 

Your could feel yourself getting wet. The tightness in your belly only contracting further. 

You stared him down, knowing full well that he was manipulating you at that very moment. 

“Why stop there?” You rebutted. 

You helped pulled out the weight of his heavy cock from the restraint, watching his length smack against his lower belly as the tip dribbled with cum. Sukuna moaned when your thumb pressed against the slit, your touch dragging back and forth as you aligned yourself. 

The sounds of your panting breaths were far too loud in this quiet room. You hesitated for a minute before lowering yourself, pressing the fat tip at your entrance. You gulped down air from the stretch alone, your arousal enough lubricant for your take him. You sank, your attention on Sukuna’s whose eyes were honed in on the point of contact of your sexes. 

When your pelvis finally kiss his own, when your bodies were merged into one, you felt two hands seek your waist as you trembled in his arms. 

Your dress had fallen back over, covering him buried inside you. You were looking up at him now as his chest rose to press yours.

A puzzle piece finally connecting. 

He twitched inside you, and you clenched around his length, but neither of you moved. You forgot, for a moment, that this was just a game. That the two of you were probably going to wake up tomorrow morning not being able to face the other person. Your heart was racing, your body begging for movement but you couldn’t snap yourself out of the bold decision you already made. 

Sukuna was looking deep into our eyes, the sparkle behind his own irises making you think of embers on winter night. 

His hands slipped up your waist, over the curves of your breast and up on the length of your neck. He held your head between his palms, the tips of his thumbs lightly caressing your cheeks, with his fingers to the back of your neck. He tilted his head down slightly, his nose brushing against the bridge of yours and he did something that caught you entirely off guard. 

His lips were warm on yours, the kiss the softest gesture you’ve ever experienced from him. He held a firm kiss at first, long enough until you were crumbling apart. You parted your mouth, granting him entrance and he swiped his tongue to lick the inside. He was tracing your own, his wet and wanting mouth only growing more hungry as you eagerly accepted his kiss. Your heart hammered heavily in your chest, and goosebumps peaked all over your skin when you felt his thumbs gently caress the soft skin of your cheeks. 

You’ve never been kissed like this before. Never felt bursts of light erupt from behind your eyelids or your stomach explode with fireworks. This always just fun foreplay for you, but nothing that would make you quiver in heat. You almost came on the spot from this one little act that you’ve imagined since you were sixteen, the one which you thought would never occur because of an unspoken rule on boundaries. But it was finally happening, and it was far too magical for you to even comprehend. 

He swallowed your moan, tasted how sweet your desire actually was. The kiss was getting heated, your walls tightening around his cock His lips wrapped around your tongue. He sucked on it, before sliding his own back over yours. 

You felt so weak; were reminded that you truly were just a fragile thing in his arms and nothing more. 

He pulled away, a string of saliva sticking from his lips to yours but you shook your head as you circled your hands around his wrists. 

“More,” you cried desperately without thinking. 

Sukuna smiled against your mouth and obliged. 

You don’t know how long you both sat there making out. But every time he tried to pull you away you sighed “again,”, or moaned “don’t stop”. You didn’t even consider kissing to be an option on the table, but the more you were getting turned on the further your guard went down. Your hips started to bounce lightly, your pussy so bothered that it wanted some relief. You started fucking yourself over his length, your mouth battling with lips, teeth and tongue in a very heated stand off. Sukuna relaxed his body against the sofa, noticing you melt over him like you were wax. Your hips were moving up and down, your tongue languidly rolling around his mouth. You could feel Sukuna moving with you, bucking his hips in return. His jerks were growing sharper, his hands dropping back down to your hips to keep you in place. Your foreheads were touching, lips parting, panting heavily as you climbed and higher. The two of you were lost in the moment, forgetting everything else that led up to this. 

You were going to lose this one, you thought, and you didn’t even care. 

Your head was spinning, your heart bursting, and you reached to hold his jaw in your hand out of desperation, hoping that by clinging to him it meant that you wouldn’t disappear into the haze of it all. Entirely overwhelmed by the feeling, by this particular connection, your eyes started to water, with tears falling as your nose grew stuffy. 

“Ryomen~” you begged, your dulcet voice full of affection. The tip of his cock hit your sweetest spot and at that point you knew you were done for. 

But Sukuna jerked his hips, the groan that ripped out of him made your belly spasm. He pulled out fast, shooting his cum all over you. Your orgasm collapsed into you just seconds after, and the two of you were shaking against one another as you tried to reorient yourselves to the present. 

You were a mess, and so was he. 

Two hands found your thighs as your torso collided into his. You placed one hand on the base of his neck, and rested your cheek against the crook.  

“You lost,” you joked with a sniffle, because you were unsure what to say, and because you realized you had just fucked your best friend and had no idea what that meant. 

Sukuna just grinned, flashing you a knowing smile and a devilish smirk. 

He perched your chin under his fingers, tapping the end sweetly. 

“Doesn’t feel like I did,” he breathed, and your eyes glittered once more. 

You arched up to kiss his cheek, “I didn’t know a dragon could kiss this well…” 

Sukuna chuckled, bumping the tip of his nose to yours affectionately as he tilted his head down. “I’ve had time to practice.” 

You sighed into another kiss, “What did we do, Ryomen?” 

“Something we should have done a long time ago…” he responded in between. 

“You love me…” you breathed. 

“And you’re surprised?” He interrupted with another kiss. 

“I don’t know what that means…” 

He nipped at your bottom lip. “It means what it means. I love you. Fuck, enough that I nearly fucking came inside you without thinking. You haven’t been around and I feel like I've lost my goddamn mind in just a year…” 

Your nails dragged down his chest your heart leaping its way up your throat. 

“I love you too,” you revealed. “I love you, Ryomen. And I missed you too."

You both fell asleep on the sofa, waking up the next morning and replaying the events of your drunken stupor. After you both cleaned up and showered, you had a serious conversation over two cups of coffee. Though, you aren’t quite sure how "serious" it was, considering that Sukuna had you sitting on his lip while you were gently stroking his hair.

He revealed that the reason why he didn’t tell you about his return was also partially due to the fact that he was leaving that very night to hop on plane and fly halfway across the world. He couldn't bring himself to see you for only a short stint when he knew he needed far more time together after everything.

“Uraume is right,” he bitterly admitted, “You are a big distraction for me right now, and I have to be in the right headspace for this fight with Gojo” 

“You sound worried,” you pointed out with a furrow of your brows, your hands dragging back his locks as you threaded your digits between the strands to push his hair back from his forehead.

“If he beats me then I am done,” Sukuna blurted, “what I have built will diminish into nothing. I can’t lose to him. It’ll cost me my career…” 

Disappointment wrapped its arms around you just as Sukuna loosened his own grip. But you could hear the hint of tiny, tiny fear behind his words was enough to you feel hollow. Sukuna has never felt threatened, but this was a serious fight for him. He’s worked so hard for all of this, and he was not willing to give it up to some punk who just shot into the scene. 

“Why don’t we revisit this after the fight then?” You offered.

He glanced at you.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." you exhaled, "what if maybe we just need to wait a little longer before we allow ourselves to have this..."

Sukuna paused for a moment. “You’d wait for me?” He asked. 

A smile ticks at the corner of your mouth. “Yes, because you always come back to me” 

“That I do” he responds

You brush your fingers under his chin, tilting it upward once more to receive another kiss. “I’ll wait for you,” you ensure. "Because I'll always come back to you too."

₊ ⊹ .

One hand slides into the front pocket of your denim skirt, and Sukuna rests his chin on top of your head. You smile to yourself, though he can’t see it, because he’s busy watching you slice bits of fruit as you place it into one of his ceramic bowls. When you were kids, Sukuna would have to look around your arm whenever he hugged you from behind. The years show the evolution of this gesture, from him suddenly perching over your shoulder until he could simply see over your crown. 

He sighs, his other arm curling over your belly as he embraces you. 

“Don’t add the blueberries,” he mumbles. 

You oblige, your back leaning into the breadth of his chest. 

The two of you haven’t touched one another since that faithful night. 

Up until the fight, you and Sukuna simply returned back to the way things used to be. Except this time there were little alterations in your day to day conversations that indicated a shift. 

For one, Sukuna was a flirt. 

You were use to this commentary, but now that your friendship has taken a turn you find your cheeks growing heated more often around him because his words weren't gray. What he says toward you, and the way he compliments you rings very, very true.  There is also a deep tenderness for one another that you both are finally allowing to express freely. You don't dull your affection, and instead allow it to overflow. And last of all, the longing to be back together was pathetically obvious. 

You placed the strawberries, sliced peaches and peeled oranges into the bowl, your fingers a little tacky. “I need to wash my hands,” you indicate, and Sukuna begrudgingly releases you from his hold. 

You’re surprised that he didn’t pounce on you so quickly. 

The two of you only had one other sexual moment just a few months ago. 

Sukuna video called you one evening, his face tight with frustration. 

He was exhausted from training, and even more drained by the press. 

They were claiming that his new “pumped physique” was due to steroid use, and one little rumor had the representatives of the boxing association hounding him like he was a real culprit in this make believe story. Suddenly, his hard work and training was being reduced to the thing that the press claimed him to be: a cheater.

He called you to ensure you that everything was alright. That he was forced to take tests which all came out negative (obviously) and and effectively proved his innocence. 

“I can’t wait to be home,” he breathed with annoyance. “I’m fucking sick of this shit…” 

You were in the bathroom getting ready for bed, gently patting your moisturizer onto your face. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you stated, offering him only an apology because it's all you could give. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?” 

Sukuna arched his brow, his attention hovering in front of the screen. 

“Yeah, you can take off that robe you’re wearing…” he teased. 

You jerked your head to the camera in surprise, noting his cheeky tone. 

“Ha-ha…” you remarked. 

“I’m being serious,” he answered back, his mouth dropping into an instant frown. “I’ve had a shitty day, and I can’t even do the one thing I want to help me relax…” 

You arched your brow. “And what might that be?” 

He revealed his canines, a wolfish grin brightening that handsome face. “Fucking my girl...” 

Your heart thumped, and you swallowed the sudden tightness in your throat. You picked up your lip balm and dabbed your finger into the ointment before gliding it over your bottom lip. 

“Your girl, huh?” You reiterated casually, hoping that Sukuna wouldn’t quite pick up on the catch in your throat. 

“You’re always my girl, even when you weren’t mine to call that…” he added softly, his voice pulling your attention back towards him. 

He wasn’t kidding around, with the look on his face entirely serious. The tips of your ears stung with a heat that you couldn’t explain, and you just had the sudden urge to reach through the screen and pull his face back towards you. 

You wanted to kiss him, to tell him that you always felt like you belonged to him too. 

The two of you an inseparable pair for a reason. 

Instead, you stripped down to reveal your naked form. You perched the camera towards the back for a wider shot, and allowed your body to speak to Sukuna instead. One of your legs was resting on the bathroom sink, the other grounding you on the floor. You had the camera facing your cunt, with your fingers buried deep inside. But it was nothing compared to the stretch of Sukuna’s digits, wasn’t filling you enough to reach you to the pleasurable climax you desired. 

“It’s not enough,” you gasped in between breaths, watching Sukuna passionately jerk off from he other side of the screen, “Need you, ‘kuna~” you whined, “it’s not enough with you…” 

The memory hits you, making your lower belly tighten.

You dry your hands off to face him, only to find the man standing with an expression of guilt on his face. 

The same concern you had earlier when you left the elevator reappeared once more. 

You pick up the fruit bowl from the counter, trying your best not to give the discomfort attention. You offer Sukuna a strawberry, lifting it towards his mouth but he instantly circles his hand around your wrist and pulls it back down.

“I need to tell you something,” 

You scrunch your brows, and place the fruit bowl back onto the counter. 

“What’s wrong?”

Sukuna closes his eyes, a look of shame washing over him. 

You take a step closer, wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” You repeat, coaxing him to speak. 

“I nearly threw the fight tonight.” 

You jerk your head up in shock, your lips parting as your jaw falls from the confession. 

“You…what?” 

Sukuna rubs his tired face with one hand, using every ounce of courage to look back at you. 

“There was a moment in the ring when Satoru threw a relatively decent punch,” he explains, “I had the lights knocked out of me for a split second. When I turned to face him it hit me then...that I could fake dodging his next attack before giving him the opening that he needs to win. One more hit and I’d...collapse. Let the referee do his count, and that would be it…”

You knew the exact moment he was referring to. It was the point in the match where your ears were ringing because you truly thought that you would be witnessing a loss on Sukuna's part. The entire crowd was muttering in shock, all of them on the precipice of a potential shift in legacy. 

“I didn’t follow through because I think Satoru noticed a change in my demeanor. It was only a few seconds, but the kid is fucking sharp. He wasn't smugly determined then, he was looking at me with...confusion. I couldn't do it then. I didn't want him to get a cop out on my end. So, I carried on the fight the way I would. After the match, I thought I could just let the moment pass but Uraume tried to bring it up later and I shut it down because I didn't want to admit it. Anyway, I needed to just get it off my chest…” 

“You were going to give him that win?” You expressed with deep concern, tightening your hold around his waist as you watched Sukuna’s face to turn hard. 

It hits you then - that the Champ, The Monster of The Ring, The Beast and King Himself was…burnt out. Sukuna’s fire had been gone for quite some time, you just thought it would reignite after tonight. 

But it didn't.

You bring your hands to his biceps and caress your palms up and down. 

“Ryomen,” you speak, licking your lips with hesitation before finally asking. “Is this what you still want?” 

Contemplative eyes meet yours as his palms find both your cheeks. He drops his head down, his lips seeking yours as he takes into account the gash on the muscle, then places a careful kiss on your mouth. 

“I just want you,” he hums. 

“M’right here,” you murmur back, “Not going anywhere.” 

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he adds on, “that’s all I could think about during the fight. Was just coming home to you, coming home to us…” 

A shiver runs down your back, but your body vibrates with an innocent excitement. “We don’t have to wait anymore,” you whisper. “I’m not going anywhere no matter what happens. No matter what comes next…” 

Sukuna looks at you then, knowing full well what your statement means. 

Once news breaks out of the two of you being an actual item, heaven knows what might happen. If the paparazzi have been plaguing Sukuna like a curse this whole time, it was only going to get even more complicated with you so intimately intertwined in his world. And now that he was back on top as the champion, he knew full well that all eyes were going to remain on him.

From when he was a child, no matter what he believed about his life that would deter you from him. His broken home wasn't enough to push you. His anger wasn't enough to push you. His detachment wasn't enough to push you. The chaos that is his world wasn't enough to push you.

You have always remained solidly by his side.

His constant. The only thing in the world that he can rely on.

“I love you,” he states under his breath, leaning in to peck you for a second time. 

“I love you too,” you repeated with a smile against his lips. 

There was no epic moment around this sober reveal, no exceptional circumstance other than the privacy of it being spoken with no one else to hear it other than the two of you.

You loved one another, in the deepest possible way you could love a person. From there your lips parted, and you carefully kissed the man before you as he scooped you up in his arms. 

He repeated the phrase again when he placed you on the kitchen counter, with his fingers buried deep within the folds of your wet pussy. 

You moaned it back to him after he carried you into his bedroom, with your fists tangled between his hair as he ate you out. 

He grunted it out one last time, with his hand gripping the headboard as he watched your body melt into the matters when he thrusted his dick in and out of you as he made love to you feverishly. 

And you mumbled it back one last time while he held you in his arms, the two of you falling asleep from a very long night of unbridled passion. 

Sukuna was the first to wake at the crack of dawn. He rolled over to grab  his phone from the side table in an attempt to turn off his alarm before it woke you up as well. As he looked at the device, his heart sank. 

A number of notifications were blowing up his phone and it was making him feel dizzy. 

News articles were already painting him in all his glory after his fight with Satoru, with his opponent looking battered in defeat. The press had finally flipped, and suddenly began to revere him the way he deserved to be. There were text messages from an influx of people, either congratulating him or wanting get his thoughts on the match. Sukuna feels the tremor in his hand build as he starts to scroll through the notifications. 

He places the device on the blanket in front of him, his eyes looking out to the large windows as he watches the sky shift from a deep violet to a lilac blue. He turns this head to gaze at you. This image of you by his side, in a position that he’s seen multiple times in his life, feels different now too. The soft glow of new daylight washes over your body, and the stillness of the hour has him believing that he actually made it to heaven. Sukuna places a soft kiss on your forehead, then carefully kicks off the blankets. He searches for his boxers, then pulls on the pair before stepping out into his balcony. 

He calls Uraume. 

Usually they pick up quick, but Sukuna counts down the rings until they do. 

“My King,” they tease, their voice a little groggy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Sukuna watches a bird fly across the horizon, the ease in his chest an affirmation to what he’s about to say. 

“I’m retiring,” he announces. “I’m done.” 

The silence hangs in the air, streaks of orange and yellow begin to tint the clouds. 

“I had a feeling you were going to say that…” 

“is that why it took you long to answer my call?” 

Uraume huffs out a laugh. “I guess I was hoping for another piece of news…” 

“Are you mad?” Sukuna asks, only honoring Uraume with his worry because he knows how much they have done for him to begin with. 

Uraume sighs, “I’m not actually. It’s the smartest decision you can make. You retire now and you basically leave the game while sitting at the top. You’ve earned that throne, and it won’t be easy for these rookies to take it from you so quickly…” 

Sukuna chuckles, “you’re right about that…” 

Uraume lets the quiet overtake the conversation. “I’ll give it a few days before I break the news to the press.” 

“And then what?” 

“There’s definitely going to be a lot of interviews, and a retirement party that you will have to attend wether you like it or not…” 

“And what about you?” 

Uraume hums, “You and I had a good run. If it’s the end for you, then I guess I can finally retire too..” 

Sukna furrows his brows, his nails scratch over the rail on his balcony. “I don’t want you doing that because of me…” 

Uraume laughs, “You’ve earned my loyalty, what can I say?” 

“Thank you,” Sukuna breathes, “For everything you’ve done for me. You’re more than just a manager, but I think you already know that...” 

“I know it,” Uraume answers back. “And I also know that this is the right decision because you sound…relieved.” 

He hears you then. 

You were calling out to him, “‘kuna, where are you?~” 

He turns his back to face the railing, missing the sun breaking through the horizon at the sound of your voice. He smiles thinking about the adorable, frustrated look on your face when you probably reached out and couldn’t find him, and he slowly begins making his approach back into his bedroom. 

“I am,” he speaks to Uraume, “I’ve got to go. Will talk about this later.” 

He hangs up the phone, and returns to the shadow of deep, restful slumber. He places the phone back on his side table, and smiles at the exact disappointed expression that he pictured when he was outside. 

The second you feel his warmth back in your presence, you snuggle up into his frame. 

“Where did you go?” You mumble with a yawn, and Sukuna wraps his strong arms around you as he nestles back into your body. 

“Nowhere,” he breathes, easing back into your embrace. 

“Heard you talking,” you add on, you eyes still shut but your arm slinking around his neck to keep him close.

It’s taken you both over two decades to get here, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to come in the way of that. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he reassures, keeping his loving eyes on you as he clutches onto his bright, new future with his favorite person.

A life that you both will now get to live in peaceful happiness. 

₊ ⊹ .

:note: hi, everyone! long form fics has been really draining for me these days but these one shots feel like a great refresher. I know this is a monster of a fic, but I hope you enjoy the story. comments and reblogs are appreciated!

tags (only tagging those who asked): @after-laughter-come-tears @not-9ok @axxk17 @sukubusss @lavenderdaydream97 @charlie-xo @kunasthiast @celestep004 @brownskinnedgirll @sukunasweetheart @kunascutie @joontroverted @emi311 @yuujispinkhair @starmapz @bellyei

[inseobts]

1st Anniversary

what would they do for your first anniversary together?

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace

words count: around 0.5k - 0.7k each

masterlist || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The sun rises over the Thousand Sunny, casting golden light across the deck. You stretch and yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes when a sudden weight crashes into you.

"Y/N!" Luffy yells, tackling you with his usual enthusiasm.

You groan but laugh as he wraps his arms around you "Luffy, it's too early for this—"

"IT'S OUR ANNIVERSARY!" he shouts, grinning ear to ear.

You blink. Oh. Right. Your first anniversary together.

Luffy’s never been the best at remembering dates, so you didn’t expect him to bring it up at all. But here he is, vibrating with excitement like a kid who just found a pile of meat.

"You remembered?" you ask, surprised.

Luffy nods eagerly "Of course! I mean… Sanji wrote it down for me… and Nami yelled at me to not forget… and Robin told me what an anniversary even is—but still!"

You chuckle, shaking your head "So, do you have something planned?"

Luffy puffs out his chest proudly "Yup! Captain’s orders: today is Luffy and y/n Day! No crewmates allowed!"

From across the deck, you hear Usopp yell "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!"

Luffy ignores him.

"But," he continues, "I, uh, don’t actually know what people do on anniversaries, so I just made some rules!"

Your curiosity piques "Rules?"

Luffy grins, grabbing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it dramatically "Yup! First rule: We gotta eat as much meat as possible!"

You snort "Of course."

"Second rule: No pirate stuff today. Just fun stuff!"

"That’s… actually kind of sweet" you admit.

"And the last rule…" He suddenly scratches his head, cheeks turning a little pink "Well… um…"

You tilt your head "What is it?"

Luffy huffs, clearly frustrated "It's a secret rule! I’ll tell you later!"

You laugh but decide not to push it "Alright, Captain. What’s first on the itinerary?"

It starts with a massive breakfast, courtesy of Sanji (who glares at Luffy the whole time for stealing food off your plate). After stuffing yourselves, Luffy drags you across the Sunny for various "Luffy-approved" activities.

First, there’s an intense game of tag—where Luffy cheats by using his rubber powers. Then, he insists on fishing, though he gets distracted halfway through and jumps in after the fish himself. After drying off (and avoiding Nami’s wrath for getting seawater everywhere), he decides you both need a nap—because "eating and playing is tiring!"

You wake up with Luffy curled around you like a koala, snoring into your hair.

"You really are like a cat" you mumble, gently brushing his bangs aside.

Luffy stirs, blinking up at you sleepily "Hmmm?"

"Nothing" you whisper, smiling.

As the sun starts setting, you and Luffy sit on the deck, watching the waves. The usual chaos of the crew is still happening in the background, but for once, it’s peaceful.

Luffy suddenly perks up "Oh! The secret rule!"

You sit up straighter "Finally. What is it?"

He fidgets, uncharacteristically nervous "Well… I heard anniversaries are for saying important stuff, right?"

You nod "I guess, yeah."

Luffy rubs the back of his neck, looking out at the sea "So… my last rule is… that I gotta tell you something important today. Something really important."

Your heart skips a beat. Luffy isn't usually serious—when he is, it means something big "Okay," you say softly "I'm listening."

He takes a deep breath, then grins, his usual carefree self again "I love you!"

You freeze.

He’s said he likes you before, in his own way—"You're my favorite!" or "I like having you around!"—but he’s never actually said that.

He tilts his head "Was that good? I was practicing in my head all day."

Your eyes soften "You practiced?"

"Yeah!" He laughs "I mean, I already knew I love you, but I wanted to say it today ‘cause, y’know, it’s our thing. Our anniversary thing!"

You shake your head fondly, grabbing his hat and plopping it onto your own head "You’re such an idiot."

Luffy pouts "Hey—"

Before he can complain, you cup his face and kiss him. He makes a surprised noise but quickly melts into it, smiling against your lips.

"Best anniversary ever" he mumbles.

You laugh "You say that now, but wait ‘til next year. You’ll have to top it."

Luffy grins "Easy! Next year, I’ll make a million rules!"

You sigh, shaking your head "What have I gotten myself into?"

Luffy just laughs, pulling you closer as the sun dips below the horizon. The crew groans in the background, but you don’t care. Because as chaotic and ridiculous as he is, Luffy’s way of loving you is perfect.

And that’s all you could ever ask for.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

The sun hangs low over the Thousand Sunny, painting the sky in warm hues of orange and pink. The crew is scattered across the deck, each lost in their own evening routine, but your attention is on one person alone—Zoro.

The swordsman leans against the railing, arms crossed, eyes closed. To anyone else, it looks like he’s resting, but you know better. He’s thinking.

You step closer, hands behind your back “Oi, Zoro.”

His eye cracks open slightly before he turns his head toward you “Hm?”

You smile, rocking on your heels “Happy anniversary.”

For a second, he looks at you blankly, and your heart sinks a little. Did he forget?

Then, with a small smirk, he straightens up “Tch. You really think I’d forget?”

You cross your arms “Honestly? Yes.”

He scoffs “Give me some credit.”

Your curiosity piques “So… you actually planned something?”

Zoro rolls his shoulders, looking away for a brief moment before nodding “Something like that.”

You raise an eyebrow “Wait. Seriously?”

Before you can press further, he jerks his head toward the deck “C’mon.”

He leads you to a quieter part of the ship, where the sounds of the crew fade into the background. A small blanket is laid out on the deck, two cups and a bottle of sake sitting neatly in the center. The sea stretches endlessly before you, the breeze carrying the scent of salt and adventure.

You blink in surprise “Did… you do this?”

Zoro sits down, grabbing the bottle “Sanji might’ve helped. But don’t tell him I said that.”

You chuckle, sitting beside him “Didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

“I’m not.” He pours a bit of sake into your cup, then his own “But I figured… a year with you is worth drinking to.”

Your chest warms at his words. Zoro isn’t one for big, flashy gestures—but when he cares, he shows it in ways that truly matter.

You clink your cup against his “I’ll drink to that.”

As the two of you sip in comfortable silence, you glance at him “So, what was the first thing you thought when we got together?”

Zoro exhales, setting his cup down “That you’re stubborn.”

You laugh “Me?”

“Yeah.” He leans back on his elbows, looking at you “You wouldn’t back down, even when I tried pushing you away.”

You tilt your head “Did you want to push me away?”

Zoro’s gaze softens “…I didn’t want you to be a distraction, you know”

You stare at him, heart squeezing “And now?”

He lets out a slow breath “Now, I know you’re not.”

You smile “Good answer.”

After a few more drinks, the night fully settles in and Zoro turns to you, expression unreadable.

“…I have something for you.”

Your eyes widen, surprised “You got me a gift?”

He reaches into his haramaki and pulls out a small object. He places it in your hand—it’s a charm. It's like a small version of his earrings turned into a pendant and attached to a thin string.

Your breath catches “Zoro…?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away “It’s stupid, but… I had it made a while ago. For you.”

You run your fingers over the smooth surface, heart pounding sooooo hard “It’s not stupid. It’s perfect.”

Zoro smirks “You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh, tightening your grip on the pendant and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

The kitchen of the Thousand Sunny is filled with the warm, mouthwatering aroma of freshly cooked food. The scent of caramelized spices and grilled seafood lingers in the air, a sure sign that Sanji is in his element.

You lean against the doorway, watching him work his magic. He moves with effortless grace, flipping a pan, the flames from the stove reflecting in his blue eyes. He hums softly to himself, a tune you recognize as the one he whistles when he’s happy.

You smirk “Cooking me a feast, Chef?”

Sanji turns at the sound of your voice, and immediately, his expression melts “Ah, ma chérie, you’re early.”

You cross your arms, pouting “So I’m not supposed to be here?”

Sanji chuckles, wiping his hands on a towel before stepping closer “I wanted to surprise you...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear “But I suppose I don’t mind if you ruin the surprise—after all, you’re the guest of honor!”

Your heart flutters at his words. Sanji has always been charming, but there’s something different about the way he speaks to you, softer, more genuine, as if you’re the only person in the world.

You glance past him at the beautifully arranged table, complete with candles, fine plates, and a bouquet of flowers “You really went all out, huh?”

He grins, taking your hand and spinning you playfully “Only the best for my love.”

Sanji pulls out a chair for you, as the great gentleman he is “Sit and relax. Let me take care of everything.”

You obey, watching as he presents dish after dish, each one plated to perfection “Alright, Chef, walk me through the menu.”

Sanji gestures dramatically “For the appetizer, we have a delicate seafood bisque, infused with saffron and a touch of white wine. For the main course..." He lifts a silver lid, revealing your favorite dish "...a meal crafted specifically for my one and only.”

You gasp, touched “You remembered my favorite?”

Sanji scoffs as if offended “Do you take me for an amateur? Of course I remember.”

You laugh and take a bite, instantly melting at the burst of flavors “Oh my god. I think I just fell in love all over again.”

Sanji chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you “Then I must be doing it right.”

After finishing the meal and complimenting him so much that he nearly combusts with joy, Sanji disappears into the kitchen. When he returns, he’s holding a small plate with a single dessert on it, a beautifully crafted heart-shaped pastry.

“Happy anniversary, my love” he murmurs, setting it in front of you.

Your eyes soften “You made this just for me?”

Sanji kneels beside you, taking your hand in his “Everything I make is for you, mon amour. But this… this one is special.”

You pick up the dessert, admiring the delicate details. As you take a bite, your taste buds explode with sweetness and spice, just like him.

“It’s perfect” you whisper.

Sanji smiles, but there’s something more in his expression tonight—something deeper “I’m glad,” he murmurs “Because you are, too.”

Your breath catches as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Sanji…”

He exhales, resting his forehead against yours “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done”

Your heart swells, and for once, he’s the one left breathless when you lean in and kiss him.

The chef who’s always served everyone finally gets a taste of something just for himself... a love that’s his to keep.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The Moby Dick is quiet tonight, the usual noise replaced by something softer (Ace had made sure of it).

You step onto the deck, your brows furrowing as you notice the absence of drunken laughter and boisterous yelling. Instead, a familiar warmth spreads through the air, not just from the ship’s lanterns, but from the flickering flames dancing lazily around a certain freckled man's fingertips.

He’s waiting for you.

“Hey, you’re finally here” Ace calls, grinning as he waves you over “Took you long enough.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms “You were the one who told me to wait in my room. What exactly are you up to?”

Ace scratches the back of his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips “Well… it’s our anniversary, right? So I wanted to do something special.”

Your heart skips a beat. He remembered.

You step closer, noticing that he’s set up a "date night" on the deck. There’s a blanket spread out beneath the stars, a small box of food beside it (probably stolen from the kitchen), and a few lanterns hanging. But the real highlight is Ace himself, his flames glow softly around him, casting warm hues against his skin.

“Ace…” You blink, touched “Did you do all this?”

He grins, patting the spot next to him “Well, I had some help from Thatch—mostly because I kept burning the food.”

You laugh as you sit beside him “That sounds about right”

Ace chuckles, handing you a small bowl of your favorite food “I figured I should at least try to do this properly.”

You take a bite, humming in approval “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Damn right it is! I didn’t burn this”

You shake your head, smiling “You’re impossible.”

Ace leans back on his hands, watching you with a lazy grin “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Your cheeks warm. He’s not wrong.

After finishing your meal, the two of you lay side by side on the blanket, staring up at the endless sky. The sea is calm, the ship gently rocking beneath you, and Ace's warmth seeps into your skin where his arm brushes yours.

He turns his head, watching you “Y’know… I never really thought I’d make it this far.”

You glance at him “What do you mean?”

Ace hesitates, then exhales “I used to think I wasn’t meant to have stuff like this. Someone who sticks around, someone who actually...” He pauses, then looks at you with a rare softness “...someone who loves me just for being me.”

Your heart aches at his words. You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his “You deserve this, Ace. You deserve love, and happiness, and everything good in the world.”

Ace stares at you for a moment as he swallows hard.

Then, without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. His body is warmer than usual but you don’t mind. You hold him just as tightly.

“…Thanks,” he mumbles “for staying.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face “I’ll always stay.”

Ace lets out a shaky breath, then suddenly grins “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on letting you go either.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you, slow and deep.

As he stops you narrow your eyes at him “Alright, spill it. How did you get everyone to be this quiet?”

Ace blinks, then smirks “What, you think I can’t get them to behave when I want to?”

You cross your arms “No, I know you can’t.”

Ace laughs, rubbing his nose “Fine, fine. I might’ve… bribed them.”

You raise an eyebrow “With what?”

He looks away, mumbling under his breath.

“What was that?” You lean in.

“…I promised to do chore duty for a whole week.”

You gasp, eyes wide “You WHAT?”

Ace groans, throwing his head back “I know! But it was the only way! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get this crew to shut up for more than five minutes?”

You burst into laughter, clutching your sides “Oh, this is priceless. You, of all people, voluntarily doing chores?”

Ace grumbles “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I made for this romantic evening.”

You wipe a tear from your eye, still giggling “Oh, I definitely do. I'll make it worth for you, don't worry” you wink at him.

Ace huffs but smiles, pulling you back into his arms “It's already worth it”

You hum, resting your head against his chest.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The Polar Tang hums quietly beneath your feet as you make your way toward Law’s quarters, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. Today marks your first anniversary with him, and while you know Law isn’t the type for grand, sweeping gestures, a small part of you wonders if he even remembers.

You wouldn’t be upset if he forgot, he’s busy, after all. But still… a year together means something.

You take a deep breath and knock.

“Come in.”

Pushing open the door, you step inside and immediately stop in your tracks.

The usually cluttered room is different. His desk is cleared, save for a single candle flickering softly beside a small plate of food, your favorite. A delicate piece of folded paper rests next to it, and on the bed, a neatly wrapped package.

Law stands nearby, arms crossed, watching your reaction with an unreadable expression “Took you long enough” he mutters.

You blink at him, then at the setup “You… did this?”

“Tch. Who else?” He glances away, scratching the back of his neck “It’s not a big deal.”

Your heart swells at the effort. It is a big deal, because Law doesn’t do things like this unless they truly matter to him.

Smiling, you walk over to the table and pick up the folded paper “What’s this?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches as you carefully unfold it.

Your breath catches the moment you realize what it is.

It’s a hand-drawn sketch. Of you.

Your fingers tremble as you take in the intricate details, the way your hair falls around your face, the softness in your eyes, the careful shading that brings it to life. He’s captured you perfectly, every detail very precise. But what gets you the most is the expression he’s given you, serene, happy, loved.

“Law…” Your voice is barely above a whisper “You drew this?”

He shifts uncomfortably “Yeah.” His gaze flickers to the side “I… started it a while ago. Just never had a reason to finish it until now.”

Tears sting the back of your eyes, and you clutch the drawing to your chest, overwhelmed. You knew Law was skilled in many things, but this? This is beyond anything you could have expected.

He clears his throat “There’s more.”

You glance toward the package on the bed, wiping your eyes before carefully unwrapping it. Inside is a book... an old, well-kept copy of one you once mentioned loving but never found again.

You stare at it, stunned “How did you—?”

“You talk in your sleep sometimes.” He smirks, finally meeting your eyes “You kept mumbling about it a few months ago, so I figured I’d find it.”

You let out a small, watery laugh “You found this for me?”

Law shrugs, but there’s a flicker of pride in his expression “It’s not a big deal.”

You set the book and drawing aside before closing the distance between you, your hands resting on his chest “It is a big deal,” you murmur, looking up at him “Thank you, Law. Really.”

He exhales softly, his fingers ghosting over your waist before settling there, pulling you a little closer “Didn’t want you thinking I forgot” he mutters.

You smile, reaching up to cup his face “I wouldn’t have minded, you know. Just being with you is enough.”

His golden eyes search yours, something unspoken passing between you before he finally gives in. His lips find yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, one that speaks of everything he doesn’t say out loud.

He tastes like mint and tea, his hands firm yet gentle as they slide up your back, pressing you against him. The kiss deepens, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilts your head to deepen the connection. Your breath hitches when he nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with another lingering kiss.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, both of you breathing a little heavier.

“Happy anniversary” you whisper.

His smirk returns, softer this time “Yeah. Happy anniversary.”

You grin “Think we’ll make it another year?”

Law scoffs, tilting your chin up so he can steal another kiss “I know we will.”

And in that moment, with his arms around you and the warmth of his lips lingering on yours, you have no doubt he’s right.

[aspenmissing]

Hello! I just love reading the things you post! I check your profile all the time to see if you've posted anything new 😅

If you can, could you write a situation where S/O has an overprotective dog, where every time the arcane characters try to have even the slightest contact with S/O, S/O's dog growls, barks or even tries to bite them?

You can do as many characters as you want, but could you put Mel as one of the characters? I love her, and I hardly see her in writing like this.

*That's it, have a great year!

(I apologize if there are any spelling mistakes, English is not my language 😅)

ɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴏɢ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴍᴇʟ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 5643 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ, ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʟʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡᴡᴡᴡ, ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ ᴍᴇʟ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ. ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴍᴇʟ

JAYCE

It was a quiet evening in Piltover. The sun had begun its descent beyond the horizon, casting soft hues of orange and gold across the city. Inside Y/N’s apartment, the hum of the city faded into the background as she sat cross-legged on her couch, crochet needles in hand, working on her latest project. Remy, her overprotective dog, lay beside her on the floor, his eyes alert and ears pricked for any sign of disturbance.

It had been a long day, but Y/N found peace in these small moments. She had gotten used to life in Piltover, the noise and bustle, but the comforts of home remained her sanctuary. As she gently threaded the yarn through the needles, she felt a warm sense of contentment. That is, until Remy’s low growl suddenly broke the calm silence.

Y/N paused, looking down at the scruffy terrier. The dog’s eyes were fixed on the door with an intensity that was all too familiar. His ears were flat against his head, and his stance was tense, like a coiled spring ready to strike. The hairs along his back stood on end.

“What is it, Remy?” Y/N asked, her voice soft, but it was clear she already knew the answer. The growl deepened, low and steady, vibrating through the room.

The door creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped through: Jayce. As soon as he entered, Remy’s growl escalated into a sharp bark, loud and insistent. The dog immediately jumped to his feet, tail stiff and hackles raised.

“Remy, no,” Y/N called softly, but her voice carried the authority of years spent with the dog. “It’s just Jayce.”

Jayce froze in his tracks, his hand still on the doorknob as Remy continued to bark, his eyes fixed on him. "Uh... Should I come back later?" Jayce asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Y/N sighed, setting her crochet project aside and standing up. "Sorry, Jayce. He’s... very protective of me. I should’ve warned you."

Remy’s barks grew sharper, and he took a few steps forward, his body rigid with suspicion. He wasn’t going to let anyone near his owner without a thorough assessment, and that included Jayce.

“It’s alright, Remy. You know him,” Y/N said, walking over to the dog and kneeling down to calm him. Remy’s growl softened just a bit, but his eyes never left Jayce.

Jayce slowly approached, his hand outstretched, but the moment his fingers moved even a fraction toward Y/N, Remy lunged forward with a warning snap of his teeth.

“Hey!” Jayce flinched back, his eyes wide as he raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m not going to hurt her, you know!”

Y/N chuckled nervously, standing up and trying to place herself between them. “I told you, Remy is a little... protective. He was the only one who had my back when I first came to Piltover, and he’s been like this ever since.”

Jayce blinked, looking at the dog in a mix of surprise and amusement. "I didn’t think dogs could be so territorial."

“Remy’s not just any dog. He’s a little warrior,” Y/N teased, her voice soft and affectionate as she scratched behind Remy’s ears. He huffed but seemed to settle just a bit, though his eyes never lost their intensity.

“Seems like I’m the one who needs to earn his trust, huh?” Jayce said, crossing his arms with a slight grin. “Well, I guess I can’t say I’m not up for a challenge.”

Y/N shook her head, smiling at him. “It’s not that easy. He’s not going to warm up to you just because you show up and give him a nice smile. You’ve got to work for it.”

Jayce looked skeptical, but he was determined. “What’s the first step?”

“Well,” Y/N began, her eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, “for starters, he likes food. You might want to try offering him some treats. But be careful—he’s picky about who he accepts them from.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow but nodded. “I can handle that.”

Y/N walked to the small kitchen, retrieving a treat from a jar she kept on the counter. She returned to the living room and crouched down, holding the treat out to Remy. The dog eyed it with suspicion before glancing up at Jayce. After a moment of tense silence, Remy took a tentative step forward, his nose twitching as he sniffed the treat. Still, his body remained coiled and ready to react.

Jayce, watching closely, stayed still, not wanting to provoke him. Slowly, he lowered his hand, palm out but offering no sudden movements.

“Good boy, Remy,” Y/N murmured, her voice steady and calming. “It’s okay.”

After what felt like an eternity, Remy’s nose hovered over the treat, and with a cautious swipe of his tongue, he took it from Y/N’s hand. The dog’s eyes flicked back up to Jayce, a sharp glare still present, but there was a small shift in the air. He wasn’t as hostile as before, though it was clear that trust would need to be earned.

“Nice job, Jayce,” Y/N said with a smile, stepping back to let the dog enjoy the treat. “That’s the first step. You’ve got to show him you’re not a threat.”

Jayce nodded, his confidence growing slightly. “I’m getting the hang of this.”

Y/N smiled at him, but before she could say anything more, Remy let out a sharp bark, followed by a low growl as he moved closer to the couch. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be giving Jayce another silent warning.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N laughed softly. “I think he’s still not happy with you being this close. He’s going to need time, but... I think he’s coming around.”

Jayce chuckled softly, though he seemed a little more cautious than before. “I’ve never had a dog so... well, territorial. But I guess I can respect that. I’ll give him his space for now.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said with a grateful smile. “It’s just going to take time. He’s loyal to a fault, but once you’ve earned his trust, he’ll be your best friend. I promise.”

Jayce sat down on the couch a little further from Remy, trying to show that he respected the dog’s boundaries. The moment he did, Remy seemed to settle slightly, though he continued to eye Jayce warily.

=

For the rest of the evening, Jayce kept his distance, content to simply sit near Y/N while Remy kept an ever-watchful eye on him. Every now and then, the dog would glance at Jayce, as if gauging his intentions. Jayce, for his part, remained patient, knowing that this was just the beginning.

It wasn’t long before Remy’s stance began to relax, the tension slowly leaving his small frame. He eventually laid down, curling up beside Y/N’s feet, though his eyes never fully left Jayce. It was progress, small but significant.

Jayce smiled softly to himself, a sense of accomplishment settling over him. He might not have earned Remy’s full trust yet, but he was willing to take it one step at a time.

And as for Y/N? She couldn’t help but smile at the two of them—her overprotective dog and the man who was determined to win him over. She knew it would take time, but somehow, she was confident that the three of them could make this work. After all, even the most unlikely of families could find a way to coexist.

VIKTOR

Viktor had always been somewhat of a patient man. His work at the Academy, his inventions, and even his personal life with Y/N had taught him that patience was key. But today… today was testing that patience to its absolute limits.

He stood in the living room of Y/N's apartment, cane in hand, waiting for her to finish putting away some things in the kitchen. His heart swelled with warmth at the thought of her—of how much she had become his world over the past few months. The early stages of their relationship had been full of discovery, but now, with the idea of spending more time together, Viktor felt an incredible sense of contentment. It wasn’t just the excitement of new love; it was the quiet moments that mattered most—reading together, talking late into the night, and even the routine of everyday life.

As he waited, he admired the little details of her apartment—how it was cozy, lived-in, with warm hues of color that made it feel like home. A place where the twins often played, where they made memories. A place where he could truly be himself. His fingers gently gripped his cane, and a thought crossed his mind: How had he gotten so lucky?

He made his move toward her, cane tapping gently on the ground as he limped over, hoping to surprise her with a kiss on the cheek. Just as he reached her side, he felt it.

A low, guttural growl.

Viktor froze, his brow furrowing. He turned his head slowly to see the culprit—a large German Shepherd, eyes narrowed and body stiff, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The dog’s fur was raised along its back, and its gaze was locked on him with a fierce intensity.

"Easy there, boy," Viktor said, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing, though there was a hint of confusion in it. "It’s just me."

The German Shepherd, however, was having none of it. He took a step forward, his growl deepening, a warning that his patience was wearing thin.

Y/N, hearing the noise, turned around with a startled look on her face. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, but then her lips curved upward, apologetic yet exasperated. "Viktor, what did I tell you?" she asked, walking over to see what was going on.

Viktor chuckled awkwardly, attempting to lighten the mood. "I was only coming over to kiss you, love."

But before Y/N could even take a step toward him, the dog darted forward, blocking Viktor’s path entirely. The Shepherd barked sharply, louder than Viktor expected, warning Viktor to stay back. It was an aggressive move, yet there was an underlying protectiveness in the dog’s stance.

Y/N sighed, her hand rubbing the back of her neck, her expression a mixture of frustration and fondness. "I’m so sorry, Viktor. He’s just… protective. You know how he gets."

Viktor’s lips twitched into a half-smile, despite the tension in the air. "I’m starting to understand that, yes."

Y/N moved forward, her voice soft and soothing as she knelt down to calm the dog. "Max, it’s okay. Viktor’s not going to hurt me."

The German Shepherd, named Max, looked at her, still skeptical, but his growl gradually faded into low whines. Max’s eyes flickered between Viktor and Y/N, and after a long, tense moment, he finally stepped aside. However, the dog wasn’t completely convinced yet; his posture remained tense, and his gaze never left Viktor, as if waiting for any sign of danger.

Viktor took a careful step forward, cautiously holding out his hand. He knew better than to rush the situation—Max had to be won over, step by step. "How about this time?" he asked gently, offering the same calm and patient approach he had shown to so many challenges in his life.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a fond smile, clearly amused by the entire situation. She reached for Viktor’s hand, but as soon as she did, Max moved forward again, his tail stiff. With a slight tilt of his head, he grabbed Viktor’s cane in his mouth, yanking it from his hand with alarming force.

Viktor blinked, watching the dog chew on the cane with determined enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure if Max was trying to assert dominance or simply express disapproval. Either way, the dog was treating Viktor’s cane like a chew toy. Viktor’s brow raised in surprise.

"Well, I wasn’t expecting that," Viktor said with a dry chuckle, glancing at Y/N.

Y/N laughed softly, the sound light and sweet, yet tinged with the unmistakable stress of dealing with an overzealous dog. "He’s just making sure you’re safe, Viktor. You’ll have to earn his trust. But maybe… not chewing on your cane."

Viktor sighed in amusement, shaking his head. He bent down slightly to retrieve the cane from Max’s firm grip, carefully prying it free. "I suppose I’ll need a new cane if this keeps up."

Y/N grinned as she gently took Viktor’s hand, guiding him back toward the couch. She planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and with a last glance at Max, she continued. "You have to admit, though, he's dedicated."

Max, now satisfied that Viktor wasn’t a threat, dropped the cane and wagged his tail, but his eyes remained fixed on Viktor. It was almost as if the dog was keeping him under surveillance, still unsure if this human was worthy of Y/N's affection.

Viktor carefully sat down, leaning his chewed cane against the armrest as Y/N joined him. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her warmth comforting against the backdrop of the living room. Max, despite being protective, made a show of sitting on the floor beside them, though his eyes never strayed too far from Viktor.

"You know," Viktor said with a smirk, glancing at the dog, "I think I prefer the challenge of winning over the dog to anything else."

Y/N laughed softly, her breath warm against his skin. "Well, I hope you’re up for a long-term commitment, because Max is going to be a part of this."

Viktor’s heart swelled at the thought. He glanced down at the protective dog by their feet, then back at Y/N, and his expression softened. "Neither am I."

And in that moment, Viktor realized—this, right here, was home. With Y/N, with their little family, and even with Max, who might not be a fan of him yet, but who would come to understand what Viktor already knew: they were in this together, for the long haul.

JAYVIK

The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, casting a golden glow over the small park at the edge of Piltover. It was a rare, quiet day—one where Viktor, Y/N, and Jayce could escape the confines of their usual responsibilities. Y/N had suggested a walk, and Viktor had agreed, eager for a break from his work. Jayce had been practically bouncing with energy, more than happy to join, his laughter filling the air as they walked side by side.

Y/N had brought her dog along, as she often did. His name was Ragnar, a large, muscular Rottweiler with a glossy black-and-tan coat and an imposing presence. Though he was usually calm, he had an intense protectiveness when it came to Y/N. His instincts were sharp, and he wasn’t quick to trust anyone—especially if they got too close to his beloved owner.

As they strolled along the path, Viktor leaned heavily on his cane, his other hand resting at his side. His posture was elegant despite the slight limp, and his attention was more on Y/N than anything else. Every now and then, he’d glance over at her with a soft smile, but his focus was often interrupted by Ragnar, who trotted at her side, watching Viktor and Jayce with a keen eye.

Jayce, as always, kept up with an energetic pace, his grin wide as he glanced at Y/N. “So, what exactly makes Ragnar the world’s most overprotective dog, huh? He’s been eyeing me like I’m some kind of threat.”

Y/N laughed softly, adjusting the leash in her hand. “He’s always been this way. Ever since I got him, he’s had this... intense need to look out for me. And sometimes that means getting a little... territorial.”

Viktor, walking just behind them, couldn’t help but chuckle, his cane tapping rhythmically on the pavement. “Territorial seems like an understatement. Ragnar looks like he’d throw the entire city into disarray if anyone even thought about threatening you.”

Ragnar, who had been walking at Y/N��s side, suddenly stiffened and let out a low growl as Viktor drew closer. The sound was enough to make Viktor pause, his eyes flicking down to the dog, whose dark eyes were now fixed on him.

“Viktor,” Y/N warned softly, her voice calm but amused. “He’s just... wary of you. He doesn’t like people getting too close to me unless he’s okay with them.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “I see. I’ll have to earn Ragnar’s approval before I can even hold your hand, it seems.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a warm smile. “Pretty much. But it’ll come with time, I’m sure. He’s just protective.”

Jayce, sensing an opportunity for a little fun, grinned widely. “Well, I’m not going to let a little thing like a dog stop me.” He reached out toward Y/N, but as his hand neared, Ragnar immediately stepped between them, growling louder, his body tense.

Y/N quickly tugged on the leash, a light laugh escaping her. “Okay, okay. Maybe not yet, Jayce.”

Jayce raised both hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “What is this—some sort of initiation? Am I going to have to pass Ragnar’s loyalty test to get close to you?”

Viktor chuckled quietly, adjusting his grip on his cane. “It would appear so.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to stifle her laughter. “You two are hopeless. Ragnar just needs to get used to you both. You’re not that bad, I promise.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jayce crouched down slightly, lowering himself to Ragnar’s level. “Alright, buddy. I’m just here to walk with your owner. No harm meant.” He slowly extended a hand, but Ragnar’s gaze remained fixed on him, the growl never fully disappearing.

Y/N gave Ragnar a gentle but firm command. “Ragnar, stop. It’s okay. You need to trust them.” She turned to Jayce and Viktor, her voice full of affection. “He’s not used to... this. But he’ll come around.”

Jayce stood up again, grinning. “I guess I’ll have to win Ragnar over first, huh?”

Viktor glanced at Y/N, his smile softening. “Looks like we’re both in the doghouse, then.”

VANDER

It was one of those rare days where Y/N had no urgent work to get to, no battles to fight, and no one to protect. She was sprawled across her bed, wrapped in a soft blanket with the kids surrounding her like a cozy barricade. Powder had her feet propped up on Y/N’s lap while Vi and Mylo were sitting cross-legged next to her. Claggor had somehow managed to curl up in the tiniest space at the edge of the bed, practically melting into the blankets.

Thorin, her fiercely protective dog—a large, sleek Doberman Pinscher—was seated at the end of the bed, his piercing brown eyes never leaving the door. His ears were alert, twitching at every small sound that filtered in from outside, but for now, the dog was in a rare moment of calm, perhaps sensing his owner’s need for peace. He had always been attuned to her moods, and today, it seemed, he too was settling in for a lazy, quiet afternoon.

"Don't you dare try to move," Powder teased, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she leaned back against Y/N's side, "I think we all need this."

Y/N chuckled softly, her fingers gently running through Powder’s hair. “I won’t. This is... exactly what I needed.”

The sound of the door creaking open sliced through the warmth of the room, and there stood Vander, leaning casually against the doorframe with a soft grin on his face. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and his presence filled the room just as much as the light from the afternoon sun. His eyes immediately sought Y/N’s, warmth and affection shining through them. But as soon as he made eye contact with her, Thorin’s head snapped to attention.

The dog’s gaze flicked from Vander’s face to his boots, and then the low growl began to build in his chest. It wasn’t loud at first, more of a warning, but the moment Vander took a step forward, it deepened into a steady, rumbling sound.

“Easy, boy,” Y/N murmured under her breath, but Thorin wasn’t listening. His ears were stiff and forward, his body rigid, and the growl built into a deep, resonant warning that had the hairs on the back of Vander’s neck standing up. His eyes never left the towering figure of the man at the door.

Vander chuckled softly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, Y/N. Thought I’d join you all for a moment.”

As soon as his foot crossed the threshold, Thorin rose to his feet with an almost mechanical precision, his eyes narrowing in on Vander’s every move. With a single, sharp bark, the Doberman advanced with purpose, his teeth flashing in a warning that was impossible to ignore.

“No way,” Mylo laughed, nudging Powder who was clearly enjoying the scene. "Looks like Thorin’s not a fan of you today."

Vander froze in place, watching the dog’s every move carefully, his usual calm demeanour not quite as unshakable as usual. “Not a fan, huh?”

Y/N sighed, a soft chuckle escaping her as she sat up slightly. She reached out a hand toward Thorin, her voice calm but firm. “He’s just... protective. I’m his person. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone getting too close.”

Vander nodded, an amused yet understanding expression on his face. “I see. Maybe we need to work on that.”

“I think it’ll take some time,” Y/N replied, her hand still resting near Thorin’s head, but the dog wasn’t moving. His gaze never strayed from Vander, his muscles still taut with suspicion.

Vi, never one to let an opportunity for teasing slip by, grinned widely. "Maybe you should try to pet him, Vander. See if that gets you in his good books."

Y/N glanced over at Vi, her brow raised in playful reprimand. “Vi…”

His grin was wide now, clearly up for the challenge. Slowly, carefully, he took a few cautious steps forward, his eyes flicking from Thorin to Y/N. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As soon as he moved again, Thorin barked sharply, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. Before Vander could take another step, the dog was up on his feet again, advancing with purpose, every muscle in his body primed for action. The kids, still watching the interaction, burst into laughter as Vander stopped dead in his tracks. He held his hands up in mock surrender, stepping back carefully.

"I think you’ll have to win over Thorin before you get a spot on the bed," Y/N teased, looking over her shoulder at Vander, her eyes twinkling with affectionate amusement.

Vander, however, wasn’t deterred. He chuckled, unbothered by the Doberman’s protective stance. "Looks like it," he grinned, though there was a slight hesitation in his step. “Alright, Thorin. I get it. I’ll wait my turn.”

The kids were still giggling, and Y/N patted the spot next to her with a teasing smile. "You can sit here... just be patient."

Vander didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back against the doorframe, sitting down on the edge of the room and letting the moments pass by. He was content to watch Y/N surrounded by the kids—each of them in their own little world as they joked, laughed, and basked in the warmth of each other’s company. Thorin, once again at the end of the bed, was calm now, though his vigilant eyes still remained trained on Vander, just in case he dared to get any closer.

Vander smiled softly, his heart swelling at the sight of this little family, each of them so full of life. Despite Thorin’s fierce protective instincts, this was a family he’d gladly protect with his life. And if that meant waiting for Thorin’s approval, he’d do so without hesitation. He knew, in time, he’d earn it.

SILCO

It was a quiet evening in the undercity, the kind of night that made the world feel a little smaller. The air was thick with the scent of wet stone, smoke, and the distant sounds of bustling crowds, but inside, the small room felt like a sanctuary from the chaos outside. Silco sat across from Y/N, the candlelight casting a flickering glow across his sharp features, making his eyes gleam with a soft intensity. His fingers idly traced the rim of his glass, the faint clink of ice against glass the only sound accompanying the low hum of conversations in the background. The rest of the world seemed distant, blurred around the edges. All that mattered was the woman sitting in front of him.

Pippin, Y/N's tiny, scruffy dog, was curled up in her lap. The small, wiry-bodied terrier, a Cairn Terrier, was blissfully unaware of the growing tension between Silco and himself. His fur was a bit unkempt, a perfect reflection of his spunky personality. He fit the part of a tough little protector despite his small size, and Silco had already come to understand that very well. Pippin's small but confident stature allowed him to hold his ground like a much larger dog, especially when it came to his beloved owner.

Silco leaned forward slightly, his smirk playing at the corners of his lips, eyes never leaving Y/N's. The flickering candlelight illuminated the curves of her face, her lips almost within reach, and for a moment, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander. "You know," he began softly, his voice lower than usual, almost intimate, "I think I’ve grown quite fond of you."

The words hung in the air between them, and he felt a strange satisfaction at the softness in her gaze. But before Y/N could respond, Pippin’s tiny ears perked up. His bright eyes locked onto Silco with an almost uncanny precision, and the protective streak he had for Y/N flared to life.

The dog’s growl rumbled through the room, low and menacing, and he shifted his position, curling tighter around Y/N, as if to shield her. The small creature's body was tense, his stance firm. Silco paused, his eyebrow raised in amusement. "Is that a warning?" he asked, the faintest chuckle escaping his lips as he regarded the dog with a mixture of mock challenge and respect.

Y/N sighed, brushing her hand through Pippin’s fur, trying to calm him down, though it was clear that Pippin’s distrust wasn’t easily quelled. "He’s just... protective," she murmured, her voice apologetic but soft, as if trying to pacify both Silco and the dog at once.

Unfazed, Silco took a step closer, his eyes softening as he reached out, his intention clear. He was hoping to steal a quick, tender peck on Y/N’s cheek, a silent declaration of his affection, but just as he leaned in, Pippin bared his tiny teeth, his growl growing louder, more insistent. The dog, despite his size, seemed absolutely determined to protect Y/N from any threat, no matter how harmless.

Silco halted immediately, his gaze flicking from Y/N to Pippin, and then back again. He couldn’t help but let a smirk slip onto his lips. "Really?" he mused, his voice a quiet, amused drawl. "I’ve been here longer than this little tyrant, you know. I think he knows who’s really in charge."

Y/N couldn’t suppress a laugh, though she quickly bit her lip to hide it, glancing down at Pippin. "He doesn’t seem to care."

Silco leaned back slightly, but his smirk remained. "I was here first," he teased, his eyes glinting with a playful challenge as he looked at Pippin. "He’ll come around. Eventually."

Pippin’s growl softened a little, but the little dog didn’t take his eyes off Silco. He seemed content to remain in his defensive position, as though daring Silco to try and prove his point. Silco shook his head in mock resignation before taking another step closer, this time with deliberate care. He leaned in again, but this time, he made sure to take his time. As his lips brushed against Y/N’s cheek, he murmured against her skin, his breath warm. "If anything," he whispered, his voice quiet but teasing, "I think he just wants to keep you all to himself."

Y/N felt her heart flutter, the warmth of his kiss lingering on her skin as she closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to simply enjoy the closeness. A soft smile curled at her lips. "That’s what I’m afraid of," she said with a gentle sigh, her eyes opening to meet his.

Pippin, finally seeming to relax, let out a soft, contented sigh of his own. He curled up once more in Y/N’s lap, his tiny body settling into a peaceful sleep, though his eyes still occasionally flicked toward Silco, ever watchful. Silco, too, relaxed, though he knew he had to earn his place in Y/N’s world. Even if that meant working through the small, overprotective terrier who now claimed a part of her heart.

"Don't worry," Silco whispered, his voice low and sincere as he gazed at Y/N. "I’ll find a way to win him over."

Y/N smiled at him, her fingers running gently through Pippin's fur once more. "You’re gonna need a lot of patience."

Silco chuckled darkly, the sound rich with amusement. "Patience has never been a problem of mine," he murmured, settling back into his chair. "But this little one..." His eyes flicked to Pippin, still curled up peacefully in Y/N's lap. "He's going to be an interesting challenge."

MEL

It was a quiet evening in Piltover, the moon casting soft shadows over the city, and Mel found herself sitting with Y/N in the warmth of her living room. There was a sense of newness in the air between them—an unspoken promise, a blossoming relationship that neither had fully acknowledged yet, but both could feel.

As Y/N relaxed on the couch, Mel couldn't resist the urge to close the distance between them, her gaze softening. She reached out, her fingers brushing Y/N's hand as she took a seat beside her, her movements slow, deliberate.

Before Mel could even attempt to lean in for a kiss, a deep, rumbling growl echoed from across the room.

Mel froze, eyes narrowing at the massive figure that had appeared at her side. A large Rottweiler stood there, its fur bristling, teeth bared in a low snarl. It was staring directly at her, unwavering, as though it had just been waiting for any sign of threat.

Y/N sighed, a hand instinctively reaching out to calm the dog. "And here we go again," she muttered under her breath.

Mel's lips curled into a smirk, undeterred. "Is this how he greets all your visitors?"

"Only those he’s suspicious of," Y/N replied, giving her dog an amused yet tired look. "His name's Diesel. And he’s... overly protective."

"Diesel, huh?" Mel asked, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I think I can handle him."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Without waiting for a response, Mel met Diesel’s gaze with a steady, intense stare, trying to assert her own dominance, just as she would in any other tense situation. The Rottweiler’s eyes flickered for a moment, but it didn’t back down. Instead, it took a step forward, letting out a sharper growl.

Mel’s lips quirked upwards, a challenge in her eyes. She refused to look away, determined to assert her place beside Y/N.

Diesel’s growl deepened, and then, suddenly, he lunged forward. Mel didn’t flinch; instead, she raised her hand with a commanding motion, as though to say, stay. Diesel paused mid-charge, eyes locked on hers, before he finally stopped, albeit still tense, his teeth visible in the dim light.

Y/N watched, a mixture of surprise and amusement on her face. "Okay, you might actually be able to handle him."

Mel smirked, her victory sweet, but as she turned back to Y/N, she could see the slight shift in Diesel’s posture, and she knew he was still watching. "So... what’s the deal with him? He doesn’t trust me?"

Y/N leaned back, rubbing Diesel’s fur absently, though her attention was on Mel. "He's just... protective. He’s been with me through everything, and he’s not a fan of anyone getting close. Especially someone he doesn't know well."

Mel chuckled, but there was a hint of determination in her voice. "I’ll win him over. I’m not backing down that easily."

As if to punctuate the challenge, Diesel growled again, this time closer to Mel, but Y/N quickly intervened, giving her dog a firm look. "Diesel, enough. Mel’s not going anywhere."

Mel smirked, leaning forward slightly. "Maybe it’s not just Diesel you need to convince."

Y/N met her gaze, eyes softening as she realized what Mel meant. The playful tension in the air shifted into something deeper, more intimate, as Mel moved a fraction of an inch closer.

Before Mel could close the gap, Diesel was back again, his deep voice rumbling in the quiet room, warning her with another low growl. But this time, Mel didn’t back down. She kept her gaze locked with Y/N’s, her presence commanding, making it clear that no matter what Diesel thought, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Y/N finally laughed softly, the tension breaking. "Looks like it’s just the two of you against me," she teased.

Mel’s smirk turned into something more tender, and she leaned in just enough to brush her lips against Y/N’s cheek. "Just the three of us," she whispered, and this time, Diesel didn’t growl—though he did eye Mel suspiciously, as if still trying to figure out if she was a threat.

For now, Y/N could only shake her head, the connection between them undeniable. Even if Diesel was a stubborn protector, Y/N had a feeling Mel wouldn’t be so easily deterred. And, for her part, she was starting to like that about Mel.

[velvetbeeez]

୨ৎ 𝓣he 𝓝arnian 𝓒ourt ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ The court is everything you’d expect. It’s dreamy, where every moment feels like a soft haze of colors, magic, and an odd, beautiful vernorexia…There's an air of surreal charm in the corridors—where the light filters through the icy windows of Cair Paravel. There is always a beautiful symphony playing from a distance…no one could tell if it’s the birds or just the royal musician.

Life is draped in curtains of soft pinks and pale blues, the vibes are obviously inspired by Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette. Everything is soft, everything so delicate, something straight out of a mid-day reverie born during a very insipid maths class. But, the Narnian court however much may it coruscate under the incandescent light of purity and love is not without gossip and schemes…because where there is flaw, there is fun.

It is this resplendent mix of regal elegance and quirky charm. There's an ethereal vibe, like everything is a bit out of a dream, mingling serious matters of state with well, meretriciously swimming and giggling with the Pevensie siblings in the great Narnian sea that floats before the castle.  The courtiers are strange characters, each a little more eccentric, but also wrapped in warmth and mischief, but not real malice. Even the fauns and centaurs are strangely... elegant?

Every day is another opportunity for a highfalutin show of extraordinarily designed and embroidered outfits. Here even the most ridiculously matched clothing is gaped at. Ordinary is the biggest insult of all…a paradise indeed.

Magic oozes off the walls, the same walls that breathe and are alive, the floors carry an irrefragable charm and knowingness…

My day flies as smooth as butter on a hot pan. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

₊˚⊹♡ 𝓘 wake up mid being crushed in the arms of my husband, Ed…I look at his sleeping face and I know I am content, I know I am where I am meant to be, in his arms, in his heart…

The ever brooding King now radiates the subtle confidence of someone who has found peace. He's regal, but not in the stiff, formal way but there’s a warmth to him, a playful, mirthful spark in his eyes that radiates mischief with his every blink. He wears his resplendent crown on his brow as he wears his sarcasm, just as effortlessly.

We waltz around royal duties and stolen moments where we meet in corridors and gardens where nothing matters but the two of us, where he leans over and whispers with the most deadpan expression about the most absurd things, making me laugh until we end up with our stomachs aching.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

⟡ ݁₊ . 𝓐nd oh, the feasts—so much food. It's a never-ending parade of luxurious treats that somehow feel entirely homemade, magic being the special ingredient. The table groans under the weight of pastries, chocolates, and fruits straight from the enchanted forests, I giggle with Lucy, as we sneak a bit of honeyed wine when no one’s looking.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

⋆. 𐙚 𝓣hen there is the daily picnic in the gardens with Susan where we gossip about the court while eating chocolate soaked strawberries as our giggles mix into a melody famously called girlhood. We share secrets, I of Edmund, she of her enormous queue of suitors, whom we make fun of together. It’s more magical than even magic can be. She’s after all, my favorite Pevensie (don’t tell Edmund).

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

✶⋆.˚ 𝓒ouncil meetings come next, where Peter glares and taunts at me because he is still wary of my intentions with his little brother, like bitch chill???? But I understand that it is nothing personal just his overprotective paranoid superman complexed brother persona oozing out of him. But spoiler alert: I do grow on him later on. This rivalry is just for the plot.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

𝓝ow to conclude, the Narnian court is a soft blur, a tranquil soft blur, dreamlike but somehow so vivid and real. It is the little things like how Edmund’s eyes light up when he says something ridiculous or how Lucy despite being the youngest seems to have an air of knowingness about her, how Susan glances at me and rolls her eyes when one of her suitors approaches her or how Peter always seeks valiantly out for his siblings no matter what, that makes Narnia, Narnia…that makes our rule the golden age…where even the most ordinary things sparkle

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

Heavily inspired by the most talented @hrrtshape's this post ˚ . ★⋆.

[3hks]

Various Ways to End Your Story (But SPECIFIC)

How you end a story can make or break it, so it's REALLY important to end it in a way you find fitting! If you're looking for some ideas on this topic, you've come to the right place! Not only will I list the different types, but I'll detail them, break them down, and hopefully, include some that you've never thought/heard of before!

CIRCLE ENDING

Yes, I know, this is a pretty basic one; most people have heard of this ending before. However, that doesn't mean it's not a good way to end your novel!

As its name suggests, this is when the story circles back to the beginning, or at least references it, for an ending. It sounds basic, but there are a few different types of this!

I. Repeating the First Sentence

This is where your last sentence is a repeat (with none or few changes) of your very first sentence, which makes it super effective if you have a powerful first sentence!

II. Repeating the First Sentence (But Different)

As you can tell, this is nearly the same as the idea I mentioned above. The first and last sentence are the same, but the meanings of them differ because the readers have read through the whole story. When they re-read what was written, they'll see it through a different perspective.

For example: "He thinks it'd be amazing if he could fly like a bird."

At first, you might think that the character just finds it cool how birds can fly, and he wants that. But after reading, the readers might realize that there's a metaphorical meaning to "bird" or "fly", and they may realize that the character actually longs for freedom, peace, etc.

The point is, that ONE sentence takes on a different meaning despite remaining the same.

III. Returning to the Same Timeline

Unlike the first two, this one does not repeat the first sentence of your story. Instead, it references the beginning as a whole, often returning to the same timeline the narrator began at.

You can see this in works where the narrator is actually reciting the past (so they're speaking from the present), and around the end, they return to the present for final words.

ABRUPT ENDING

This is literally in the name--these next few conclusions are ones that are more abrupt. You'll see what I mean!

I. Cliffhanger

We've ALL heard of this, I'm sure. This is where the story ends at a point with high tension and suspense. While cliffhangers don't always have to be a quick ending, they technically leave the story unfinished, which I why I included this here.

All in all, this is good for maintaining interest and encouraging your readers to continue reading any sequels you might have!

II. Quick Ending

You might be thinking, 'what's the difference between the "quick ending" and the "abrupt ending"? The answer to that question is that the quick ending is the more general subcategory of the latter.

Basically, this is the ending where all--or at least most--loose ends are tied and there is a concrete resolution that satisfies your readers. However, there often is little insight to what your characters' futures may hold, since everything is ended often in a sentence or two.

Still, this is one of my all-time favorite ways to end a story because it can be very empowering if done right!

ALTERNATE PERSPECTIVE ENDINGS

I definitely feel like these are less common because they can get kind of off-track and they're hard to really fit in, but that just makes it more interesting!

I. Different Character's Perspective

I've honestly seen one author do this, and while I can't say it was my favorite conclusion, it was certainly fascinating to me.

This is where the story ends through the eyes of a side character, not the protagonist. Your stories actual resolution could have happened earlier, but the ending is from a different character's POV of a past, present, or future presented in a meaningful way.

II. Time Skip (Epilogue)

Out of these two subcategories, the 'time skip' ending is more popular for sure! If you have a more complex story (by that I mean one with a bigger cast, a lot of plot events, etc.), a time skip ending could be a good choice for you!

Usually, these time skips aren't just a couple of days or weeks, but often years or even decades. This is great if your protagonist has a super ambitious goal, and you want your readers to see what happens years after they reach it!

III. Reflection

This ending typically happens after a long time skip, where the narrator reflects upon their last actions/events that happened. Truthfully, I see this a lot more in stories that have sad or bittersweet endings, which we'll get into next!

IV. Flashback

If you're looking for a different one that ties back to the main character's past, this might be it! Instead of your story ending during the present or the future, in this case, your story ends in a meaningful flashback of a character. This is great if you want to emphasize how much the character changed and grew from their beginning!

EMOTIONAL ENDINGS

Let's talk about emotional endings, real quick!

I. Happy Endings

We all know about happy endings. Typically, the protagonist (and often their close friends/family) achieve their goal(s) and is satisfied with the results of their journey.

This is the most common story ending, emotion-wise, because it provides the readers with a good sense of closure and appeals to them!

II. Bittersweet Endings

This is where the resolution feels both happy and sad. Perhaps the protagonist achieved their goal(s) but lost things they valued along the way, or vice versa.

III. Tragic Endings

This ending can be both happy and sad, but there's definitely a lot more sadness than happiness. It can be like the one above (where they reach their goal but lose stuff/people they care about), or it can be a situation where the main character lost essentially everything.

"NON-CONCRETE" ENDING

I. Open-ended Ending

This is where the ending is up to interpretation! There might be suggestions of what happened, but it's ultimately unconfirmed, allowing the readers to draw their own conclusions.

Personally, I've never attempted this type of resolution (because I have a bad feeling it won't end well if I did), but it's pretty common!

II. New Beginning

This is where the story ends when the main character is starting a new life. Maybe they've moved to a new city, underwent changes as a person, and is escaping from their old life to start fresh.

This is one conclusion I see sometimes in dystopian novels!

III. False Victory

If you've ever watched a movie or read a book about a person whose goal is to make a HUGE impact on the world, you might've experienced this ending.

A "false victory" ending is where it seems like the protagonist has won, but the readers know that the victory itself is empty and/or temporary, with no permanent change.

Although, yes, this is technically a pretty concrete ending, it can leave readers--for lack of a better word--rather unsatisfied. However, that doesn't mean it's a bad choice!

EVOCATIVE ENDINGS

For this next section, I'll be talking about a few endings that I think heavily resonate with the readers--final words that your readers will remember.

I. Wordless Ending

Throughout the last few paragraphs of a resolution, there often is dialogue involved somewhere, and that's not a bad thing! I will never deny that dialogue is powerful, but so is the opposite.

This ending revolves around having no dialogue (and thoughts!). Instead, it focuses on imagery, the characters' actions, the setting, and literary devices to create a more immersive, beautiful ending!

II. Anonymous Hero

This one, in all honesty, this ending type applies to a more specific type of stories.

So basically, this is the situation in which your protagonist achieves their goal, normally a pretty impactful and important one at that, but no one actually knows it's them who accomplished this, resulting in their life returning to--more or less-normal than--their old one.

III. Proverbs, Quotes, Questions

We all know that we can begin a story with any of these options mentioned above (and more), but that doesn't mean we can't end them the same way! Granted, I do prefer the former, but there's undeniable charm in ending your work this way!

By making your last sentence(s) a quote, proverb, question, or even a poem (I like the idea of ending it in a couplet), it reemphasizes the theme of the story while providing resonant, beautiful final words.

CONCLUSION

If you made it all the way here (or skipped here), thank you for reaching the end! Remember that you can shape endings however you want! You don't have to pick only one of these and stick with it--combine them! Actually, I think several of these resolutions overlap each other.

If you have sent me a question/request, I PROMSE I haven't forgot! I'm getting to it (albeit very slowly), so I thank you for your patience; your support means everything to me!

Comment any other endings you can think of! I'd love to see what you guys come up with!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[yantao-enthusiast]

tumblr reading comprehension challenge impossible…. i literally said don’t give me discourse on this post. i don’t care about your opinion, scream it to the mountains. i’m just asking for you to stop putting it on my obvious silly post about my opinion (or anywhere in my notifs)

“age doesn’t matter in the wilderness” is crazy... ESPECIALLY in the context of him and misty like do you think all of a sudden his knowledge was nerfed out on the wilderness??? this isn’t even about the wilderness at this point, this is about ben’s inability to communicate with misty (even outside the wilderness) and letting it get worse to that boiling point. and… like even still a lot of the yellowjackets looked to ben for guidance even if he didn’t know anything like he did have power there. i’m not saying he’s a. “pdfile” but in the grand scheme of things i’m just saying i question his ability to be able to truly communicate and understand teenagers when he can’t communicate with one that’s done nothing wrong to him but annoys him anyways pre crash. and his great big solution to her behavior was… asking her to be in a secret relationship? like if that’s his solution…… well. forgive me if i at least think he shouldn’t be teaching and if i lowkey want a fictional character to die in a show where fictional characters die

i say “wasn’t the best” because in the context of misty’s pov, she thought she was doing what the both of them wanted even if it’s not what ben wanted (which if she thought it’s what ben wanted, she doesn’t see it as rape or breaking the law, especially with him engaging a relationship with her despite drugging him in her mind that must be fine, right? (even if it’s not)). but ben never gave any real indication against it, had in fact told her to ignore all signs of it because of their secret relationship. and this is all at 16, and the other party is…. i don’t have to say it

reading over this again i’m beginning to think this fandom isn’t for you…. like femcels…. okay….. and like i think there’s plenty of reasons to hate a lot of the men and especially in a women’s show, especially when you see most of the negative sides and less backstory and good moments from them. but i think travis is a great character, doesn’t mean anyone has to like him. same for any character of this show regardless of gender. it is just a show and it’s up to us what makes a character enjoyable or not. you can’t change everyone’s mind on this with your anger, even if you don’t like that. you ignore a lot of my explanation of misty’s actions in favor of your interpretation of her as ‘ben’s villain’, and you’re not obligated to but if you wanna debate about misty, you should probably try seeing her as a complex character….

i’m not replying to this anymore to keep my peace and because of my clear boundary to stop rbing MY post with discourse i don’t wanna see. MAKE YOUR OWN POST IF YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT IT. THAT’S LITERALLY ALL I’M ASKING.

but like i hope things get better for you whatever’s happening in your life. like get to the root of your problem on a session with your therapist or something. good luck

“omg poor coach ben someone save him from misty” i hope he meets his demise at her hands actually

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 17

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Dark, Mystery, Betrayal.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

Knowing Ransom was heading straight into your personal hell made your stomach twist with unease. Something felt wrong—deeply, irreversibly wrong. And you didn’t want any part of it.

After the consultations with Tim, you rushed back to see your father, your mind racing.

Steve immediately noticed your tense expression when you returned. His brows furrowed. “Bad news?”

You exhaled sharply. “I have two jobs for you.” Your voice was firm, brooking no argument. “First, I need you to stay with my dad while I’m gone. And second, a lawyer will be coming to meet you both.”

Steve’s expression flickered with suspicion. “Wait. A lawyer?” He straightened in his chair. “No. I’ll go with you.”

“No.”

“Please.” His voice was almost desperate. “After everything you’ve done for me, at least let me do something to help you.”

“If you want to help me, then do this.” Your eyes locked onto his. “Stay here.”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but you continued, your voice low and sharp. “Two doctors. Two. Misdiagnosed both of you. If I hadn’t caught it in time, we’d be burying my father this year.” Your jaw clenched. “I will drag Tony to the deepest circle of hell for what he did. He treated my father like a disposable test subject, throwing whatever drugs he wanted at him.”

A sickening thought hit you—if you had been too late, would you be attending Tom’s funeral instead?

You turned back to Steve, voice cold. “And as for your doctor? He’s lucky we caught it early. If we hadn’t, I would’ve made sure no hospital on this earth would take him.”

Steve swallowed hard. He had never heard you talk like that before. A chill ran down his spine.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

You both entered Tom’s room. He lay on the hospital bed, his face no longer as pale as before. There was a visible difference now that he had stopped taking Tony’s damn medicine. He looked calmer. Healthier.

Seeing him like this made it easier to leave. At least here, he was safe.

You stepped closer to his bedside. “Dad, I’ll be gone for a little while.”

Tom’s tired eyes met yours. “Where are you going?”

“I need to go back home for a bit—to get your things.” You kept your tone light, masking the true reason for your trip. “You’ll be having surgery soon, and Allan said the recovery will take a while.”

For the first time in years, you realized you were saying goodbye like you actually wanted permission to leave.

Tom studied you for a long moment, then nodded. “Let me pray for you.”

“Pray?”

You hesitated.

As a mortician, your father had spent years witnessing grief, loss, and regret. Every day, he worked with the dead—people who could no longer ask for second chances. And before every funeral, he always whispered a quiet prayer for the departed, hoping their souls would find peace. He prayed for the families they left behind, too.

And, though he had never told you, he prayed for you. Every single day.

His biggest regret was never saying goodbye properly before you left all those years ago. Now, with his weakened body, this was all he could do for you.

Tom lifted his hands, looking between you and Steve, waiting.

You could refuse. Or you could take his hands.

You stepped forward, slipping your fingers into his. Steve did the same.

Tom closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking.

“God,” Tom began, his voice thick with emotion. “I am grateful for the time I have now, for the second chance to be with my daughter. For the truth that has been revealed.”

His grip on your hands tightened slightly.

“Bless her with strength and wisdom if she ever faces hardship.”

Your throat tightened.

“And help this young man recover. Amen”

Steve inhaled sharply. His lips parted slightly, but he said nothing.

Your chest burned. You almost cried right then and there.

“What hardship?” you scoffed, clearing your throat, trying to compose yourself. “I’m just grabbing your stuff. I’ll be back.”

Tom opened his eyes, watching you carefully.

“I know.”

As you stepped out of your father’s hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic clung to your senses, mixing with the tension coiling in your chest. Steve followed, his footsteps quiet but steady beside you. The hallway stretched ahead, dimly lit, eerily silent except for the occasional murmur of nurses in the distance. You glanced at him, your voice low but firm.

"There will be two lawyers coming to meet you."

From your pocket, you pulled out two sleek business cards, their embossed letters gleaming under the fluorescent light. You handed them to Steve. He took them with a furrowed brow, flipping them between his fingers. He had no idea who they were—yet. But soon, he would learn.

Harlan’s advice echoed in your mind: Make connections. Befriend everyone. You never knew what life would throw at you. Back when you were just a junior analyst, Harlan had dragged you and Ransom to every business seminar, every high-profile networking event. At first, you didn’t understand why. But then, you saw it—those rooms weren’t filled with people. They were filled with predators. Deals were silent battles, conversations were well-crafted traps, and everyone was there to hunt for their next big opportunity.

You had no family legacy, no name that carried weight. But you had something better—you worked in finance. You knew where the money flowed. And with Harlan’s bank behind you, you had leverage.

Still, blending in hadn’t been easy. The CEOs, the vice presidents—they wouldn’t even look at a junior like you. Ransom, of course, fit right in. He had the name, the presence, the confidence of someone born into privilege. But you? You had to adapt.

So you did.

Instead of chasing after the top dogs, you turned to the ones no one paid attention to—the young lawyers, accountants, auditors. You collected business cards like weapons, knowing that, one day, they would prove useful. Business was just another game of survival, after all.

And now, standing in this dim hospital corridor, those connections were finally paying off.

"I’m going to sue the hell out of the doctors who misdiagnosed my father and you."

Steve blinked, taken aback by the fury in your tone. You could feel your pulse hammering against your skin, the sheer injustice of it all threatening to consume you. If you hadn’t caught it in time, if your father had kept taking those damn pills… You swallowed hard. You wouldn’t think about that.

"But I need you to keep pretending to be sick," you continued.

Steve's brows knitted together in confusion. "Why? I can start making new art next month."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Do it if you want, but keep it quiet. And whatever you do—don’t tell the gallery owner about your condition."

His expression darkened. "Why are you making this so secretive?"

Because you weren’t sure yet. Because there was something off about all of this—the timing, the misdiagnoses, the way the pieces were falling into place just a little too neatly. A cold shiver crawled up your spine.

"If I get proof, I’ll tell you," you admitted. "But for now, I need you to trust me."

Steve studied you for a long moment, his blue eyes searching yours. Then, he sighed, slipping the business cards into his pocket.

"Promise me you’ll come back."

You hesitated. Lying to him felt wrong, but you couldn’t make a promise you weren’t sure you could keep.

"I’ll try," you said softly.

It wasn’t a promise. But it was the truth.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

Sliding into the sleek interior of your sports car, you gripped the wheel, the leather cool against your palms. With a sharp turn, you accelerated onto the open road, the city skyline shrinking in your rearview mirror. The tires cut through the damp asphalt, the rhythmic sound of the engine steadying the unease coiling in your gut.

As the miles stretched ahead, the landscape darkened. The air grew heavier, the bright city glow fading into an eerie emptiness. The further you drove, the more suffocating it felt. That damn small town was waiting for you.

By morning, you were back.

The sun cast long shadows over the town as you stepped into the hotel lobby, the scent of polished wood and freshly brewed coffee thick in the air. You spotted them immediately—Ransom, dressed in his usual effortless elegance, and several employees from the bank, their crisp suits making them stand out in the rustic setting.

And there was Bucky.

He stood in the middle of it all, giving the bank representatives a tour of the property, his voice smooth and commanding. He fit here too well—too at ease, too comfortable.

Then, his gaze landed on you.

His face lit up, and before you could react, he was beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a casual side hug.

You shivered.

It wasn’t from the cold. It wasn’t from surprise. It was something else—something instinctive. You wanted to pull away, to put distance between you and him, but you forced yourself to stay still. Show nothing.

"How’s your dad?" His voice was warm, almost too warm.

You swallowed down your discomfort. "He’s getting surgery."

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, feigning shock. "I’ll visit him soon."

"You should visit Steve too," you said, testing him.

"Steve?" His brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. "What happened to him?"

"He got into an accident. Hurt his hand."

Bucky let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, boy. He should’ve listened to me. I told him he wouldn’t fit in the big city."

Your fingers curled into a fist behind your back.

Not a single trace of sympathy. Just that smug, knowing tone like he had been right all along.

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to exhale slowly. "Why did you choose to work with this bank?" You kept your voice even, neutral.

Bucky met your gaze, and for a second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then, he smirked. "Simple," he said smoothly. "Because it’s linked to you."

The way he said it—like there was something deeper beneath the surface—made your stomach tighten.

Silence stretched between you.

You needed to get out of this conversation.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Ransom looking in your direction. He had already noticed you, his expression unreadable but sharp. Without hesitation, you stepped away from Bucky, breaking the tension as you walked toward Ransom.

Bucky didn’t stop you.

As you reached Ransom, he gave you a slow, knowing smirk. "Didn’t think I’d see you back here so soon."

"Neither did I," you muttered.

Now, it was just the two of you walking together. And for the first time since you arrived, you could finally breathe.

Ransom walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, his usual air of arrogance softened by curiosity. “Do you think it’s worth investing here?” he asked.

You didn’t hesitate. “My advice? Don’t even waste your breath.”

His brows lifted in amusement. “Woah.” He let out a low chuckle. “I knew you hated your hometown, but this place actually has potential. There’s a lot of undeveloped land. And near the hospital, they’re planning to build a retirement home. Give it a few years—this town could be the getaway spot for people escaping city life.”

He was joking, clearly expecting you to roll your eyes or throw a sarcastic jab back at him. But when he noticed how still you had gone, how you weren’t meeting his gaze like usual, the humor drained from his face.

“Ransom.”

His expression turned serious. “Yeah?”

You exhaled slowly, keeping your voice low. “Don’t trust James Barnes.”

Ransom frowned, but before he could question you, you stole a quick glance over your shoulder.

Just as you suspected.

Bucky was still standing where you had left him, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored slacks, his expression unreadable. But he wasn’t talking to anyone. He wasn’t moving.

He was watching you.

Your stomach twisted. There was something about the way he lingered, something unsettling in his quiet observation. It wasn’t just idle curiosity. It was like he was studying you, waiting.

A slow smirk ghosted over his lips when he caught you looking.

You turned back to Ransom, your voice firmer now. “I mean it.”

Ransom’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering between you and Bucky in the distance.

Something was off.

And you weren’t going to ignore it.

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[weekendlusting]

A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 5

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

prev

The morning after the storm was oddly serene, as if the universe was trying to compensate for the chaos of the previous night. The streets of Monaco glistened with the remnants of rain, and the salty scent of the sea mixed with the crisp morning air. The sky was a soft, pale blue, clouds lazily drifting by, oblivious to the storm they had thrown at Charles and Ahaana only hours before.

Inside Charles’s apartment, the atmosphere was far from peaceful.

Ahaana groaned as she turned onto her side, the oversized shirt she had borrowed from Charles tangling around her legs. Her hair was an absolute mess, strands sticking up in ways that defied physics. As she stretched, her foot hit something solid.

"Ow!" Charles’s voice grumbled from the floor beside her.

Her eyes flew open. "Why the hell are you on the floor?"

Charles lifted his head, looking thoroughly disgruntled. "Because someone stole the entire bed," he muttered, rubbing his side.

Ahaana blinked and sat up, glancing at the bed—a king-size, might she add—where she was sprawled diagonally, using up every inch of available space. She cleared her throat. "I don’t remember that happening."

"Oh, you wouldn’t," Charles deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "You were too busy starfishing and kicking me in your sleep."

She bit her lip, suppressing a smile. "I do not starf—"

"You do," he cut in, stretching his arms above his head. "I have the bruises to prove it."

Ahaana rolled her eyes, throwing a pillow at his face. "Well this is your fault for not having a guest bedroom. What were you thinking?"

He caught the pillow with ease, smirking. "Keeps the women closer, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not ready for this so early." Ahaana huffed and dramatically threw herself back onto the bed, arms spread wide. "Well, whatever. It’s morning now. Crisis averted. We survived."

"Barely," Charles muttered under his breath, earning another pillow thrown his way.

By the time they were both up and moving, the awkwardness of the previous night’s almost-kiss had settled into something unspoken but still lingering between them, like an unfinished conversation waiting for the right moment to resume.

Ahaana busied herself in the kitchen, making coffee as Charles scrolled through his phone. The scent of fresh espresso filled the apartment, making the place feel warmer than it actually was. The whole routine felt strangely domestic and mundane.

"You’re awfully quiet," Charles noted, setting his phone down and watching her. "Plotting world domination?"

She shot him a look. "Just thinking." 

"Dangerous," he murmured, taking a seat at the counter. "Shut up," she said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a small smile. She handed him a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, sipping her own. "So… last night was—"

"Eventful?" Charles supplied.

"I was going to say weird, but sure, let’s go with eventful."

He smirked. "We almost kissed." Ahaana choked on her coffee. "Charles!" 

"What? Am I not supposed to mention it?"

"No!"

"Too bad," he said with a shrug, his smirk widening. "It was a moment. A near, very charged, very dramatic moment." She groaned, rubbing her temples. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t." She sighed. "Unfortunately, you might be right."

Charles chuckled, leaning closer. "So, are we going to pretend it didn’t happen, or are we acknowledging it?" Ahaana pursed her lips, considering. "I vote for the mature, adult thing where we pretend it never happened and move on."

Charles made a face. "Boring." She smacked his arm. "Fine. What do you want to do?" He pretended to think. "We could analyze every second of it and make things sufficiently awkward."

She shot him a glare. "Charles."

"Or… we could do neither and just accept that there’s something happening here."

Her stomach did a little flip, but she forced herself to keep a straight face. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He tilted his head, giving her a knowing look. "Sure you don’t." Ahaana sighed, setting her cup down. "You’re impossible."

"And you like it," he teased, taking a sip of his coffee. "Now, are we getting breakfast, or are we going to keep avoiding the obvious?"

She groaned. "Fine. Breakfast. Let’s go."

"Great choice. And just so you know, I’m not done with this conversation."

Ahaana pointed a finger at him as they grabbed their jackets. "If you don’t shut up, I’m shoving you into traffic."

Charles laughed. "So much hostility first thing in the morning. I’m honored."

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. Whatever this was between them—it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The streets of Monaco were still damp from the storm, but the sun was beginning to warm them, glinting off the wet pavement like scattered diamonds. Ahaana and Charles walked side by side, a comfortable but charged silence stretching between them.

"Where exactly are we going?" Ahaana asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she matched his pace.

"Somewhere that serves food," Charles replied easily, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

Charles led them to a small café tucked into a quiet street corner. It was one of those places that looked effortlessly charming—warm wooden interiors, tiny round tables, the kind of place where people wrote poetry about their heartbreak over croissants.

He leaned in slightly. "I come here a lot. They have the best pain au chocolat in all of Monaco."

She rolled her eyes. "That’s for me to decide, Ferrari.”

Charles chuckled, “Prepare to be amazed”, as they grabbed a table by the window.

The café was buzzing with soft chatter, the smell of fresh coffee weaving through the air. Ahaana shrugged off her jacket, settling into her seat as Charles waved over a waitress.

"Bonjour, Charles," the waitress greeted with an easy familiarity before glancing at Ahaana with a polite smile.

Ahaana raised an eyebrow at him. He did come here a lot it seemed.

The waitress took their orders—Charles, predictably, ordered a pain au chocolat and an espresso, while Ahaana opted for another pain au chocolat and a cappuccino.

"So," Charles started once the waitress walked away, drumming his fingers against the wooden table. "Are we acknowledging the obvious today, or is it another day of blissful denial?"

Ahaana sighed heavily. "Charles."

"What?" His tone was infuriatingly casual. "I just think it’s interesting that you seem so intent on avoiding—"

"I am not avoiding anything," she cut in, folding her arms. "I just think that some things don’t need to be dissected to death."

He tilted his head, studying her. "I agree. But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist."

Ahaana busied herself by adjusting the sugar packet in front of her. "Okay, philosopher. What exactly do you want me to say?"

Charles leaned back, that irritatingly knowing smirk playing at his lips. "I don’t know. Maybe something like—‘Charles, you are the most devastatingly handsome man I’ve ever met, and I am helplessly drawn to you.’"

She deadpanned. "I’m going to throw my croissant at you when it comes."

"Bold of you to assume I won’t catch it midair and eat it."

Their food arrived, and the moment evaporated as quickly as it had come. Charles grinned, immediately reaching for his pastry. "Ah, the true love of my life."

The moment Charles took his first bite of the pain au chocolat, his eyes fluttered shut like he was experiencing something spiritual.

Ahaana watched, unimpressed. "You look like you're having an out-of-body experience. Should I leave you two alone?"

Charles opened one eye. "Jealousy is not a good look on you."

She scoffed. "Of what? A pastry?"

"A perfect pastry." He took another exaggerated bite. "Flaky, buttery, perfection incarnate. Unlike some people I know."

Ahaana picked up her', narrowed her eyes, and took a bite just as exaggerated as his, chewing deliberately.

"Life-changing?" Charles smirked.

She wiped her lips with a napkin. "You can’t tell after just one bite."

Charles leaned back, laughing. "Such ego. Are all bollywood people like this?"

Ahaana smirked back at him,"I'm not a guide, you should come and see for yourself?"

The bell above the cafe door jingled, and a familiar voice rang through the air. "Look who it is! Monaco's very own lovebirds."

Ahaana turned in time to see Lando Norris striding toward them, grinning like he had just caught them committing a crime. Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet followed, Kelly rolling her eyes at Lando’s dramatics while Max just looked amused.

Charles groaned. "Oh, fantastic. I was hoping for some unsolicited commentary this morning."

Lando plopped into the seat beside Charles without an invitation. "And here I am, delivering."

Max slid into the seat next to Ahaana, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, Ahaana. How was your night?"

Ahaana threw a pointed look at Charles. “What did you say?”

Charles acted completely obvious and hid his face behind his croissant. “The groupchat needs updates, you know.” 

“Ugh” Ahaana shook her head. “They aren’t going to forget about this for a while now you know that.”

Lando snorted. "The candles, Charles? Very romantic, mate. I can see why Ahaana is smitten." Ahaana nearly choked on her coffee. "I’m what now?"

"Smitten." Lando wiggled his eyebrows. "You know, falling hopelessly in love, unable to resist his charm—"

Charles leaned forward. "Lando, if you want to keep your front teeth, I’d recommend shutting up."

Lando pretended to consider. "Mmm…nah."

Their food arrived, and the conversation shifted as they ate, though the teasing never truly stopped. Lando nudged Charles at one point. "So, when’s the wedding?"

Charles shot him a glare. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Oh, constantly," Lando replied with a grin.  Kelly rolled her eyes. "Lando, must you?"

"Must I? Absolutely. It’s my duty as an agent of chaos." Max shook his head. "I regret sitting here."

"No, you don’t," Lando countered. "This is the highlight of your morning."

Ahaana rubbed her temples. "You are all exhausting."

Ahaana fought the smile threatening to break through. Whatever this was between them—whatever name it had or didn’t have—it wasn’t going anywhere. And, as infuriating as Charles was, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted it to.

Ahaana’s phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a name she wasn’t expecting to see for another two weeks. She frowned, picking it up. "It’s Karan."

"Hey, what’s up?"

On the other end, Karan Johar’s voice was rushed, urgent. "Change of plans. The schedule’s been moved up. You need to fly out for the Jigra shoot in three days."

Ahaana blinked. "Three days? But I was supposed to have two more weeks!"

"I know, but there were some production changes. Vedang has also been informed. We need you here ASAP. We can’t start without you. Something about permission with the set location."

She ran a hand through her hair, glancing at Charles, who had straightened up in his seat, his expression unreadable. "Okay, okay," she exhaled. "Send me the details. I’ll book my flight."

"Already done," Karan said. "Check your email. See you soon."

The call ended, and Ahaana let her phone drop onto the table with a thud. "Well. That happened."

Charles’s jaw was tight. "You’re leaving." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Yeah. In three days."

Charles didn’t say anything.

Not at first.

He just stood there, slight discomfort thrumming under his skin like an overworked engine, his hands shoved so deep into his pockets they might as well have been glued there. His jaw was locked, shoulders rigid, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him.

He didn’t understand why he was so—affected. Why his chest felt too tight. Why was his head buzzing with thoughts he didn’t want to have.

He barely even knew her.

That was the thing. That was the logical part of his brain screaming at him to get a grip, to stop acting like a lovesick idiot because this wasn’t supposed to matter this much.

Ahaana was just… Ahaana.

Sharp-tongued, impossible, breathtakingly frustrating.

And in three days, she would be gone.

He just clenched his jaw and breathed through the ache of something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

She was leaving. And it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t.

But somehow, it did.

Everyone went on with their days after their impromptu brunch session, Ahaana even bid him goodbye with a slight peck on the cheek, walking away with her phone to her year to work out the semantics of her new movie.

After that, Charles had spent the past another day and a half avoiding anything that even remotely reminded him of Ahaana.

Not that it had helped.

He had tried to keep himself busy—early morning workouts, meetings, going over race strategies, mindless drives through the city—but it was there. That feeling, lingering in the back of his mind, like an annoying hum he couldn’t shut off.

She was leaving. Tomorrow.

And the worst part? She didn’t even seem bothered by it.

He had seen her the night before, briefly. A group dinner with their usual circle, where Ahaana had been her usual, sharp-witted self, laughing and arguing with Lando, making Kelly roll her eyes, stealing bites of Max’s food without asking.

She looked fine.

Meanwhile, Charles had barely been able to focus on the conversation around him.

Every time he had glanced in her direction, there it was again—that stupid, irrational tightness in his chest. That frustration that had been eating at him since she first said those words: I have to leave in three days instead of seventeen.

Why was this bothering him so much?

Why couldn’t he just shake it off?

Why did it feel like something was ending when there hadn’t even been anything to begin with?

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply as he sat alone in his dimly lit hotel room. The city outside was alive, the distant hum of traffic filtering through the windows, but inside, it was just quiet. The kind of quiet that made his thoughts louder than they should be.

Charles hated it. He hated this feeling. And he hated that no matter how much he tried to push it away, it wasn’t leaving. Charles had never been good at ignoring things forever.

That was why, when he saw Ahaana again—just hours before her flight—he felt something snap. He reached out to her and texted her about wanting to her, she quickly sent him a pin of her location.

She was sitting at a small café, her laptop open, fingers typing away at something. She hadn’t noticed him yet, completely absorbed in whatever she was working on. The warm glow of the streetlights made her look softer somehow, more at peace than she had in the past few days.

Charles took a second to think about what he was gonna say and before he could stop himself, he walked over.

Ahaana looked up at the sound of footsteps, blinking in mild surprise when she saw him. “Charles, Hey.” He didn’t respond right away. Just pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, drumming his fingers against the table.

She frowned. “You okay?”

No.

But he just shrugged. “You leave tomorrow.” She tilted her head. “Yeah. We covered this already.”

There it was again. That casualness. That ease. Like this was just another goodbye, another trip, another moment that didn’t mean anything.

“Are you coming back?” he asked, voice quieter than he intended.

Ahaana blinked at him. “To Monaco?”

He nodded, jaw tight.

She leaned back in her chair, considering. “Not anytime soon.”

His stomach twisted. He stared at her, trying to figure out why the hell that answer bothered him so much. Maybe because she said it so easily. Like she hadn’t even thought about it. Like it wasn’t even important.

“Right,” he said, forcing a nod. “Makes sense.”

Ahaana gave him a curious look. “Why do you look like you’re about to punch something?” Charles let out a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“Nope.” A beat of silence. Then—

“Charles, are you mad that I’m leaving?”

It was a simple question.

But it wrecked him.

Because was he?

Was that what this was?

He didn’t know. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t want to say it out loud. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His voice was low when he finally spoke.

“I don’t like this.”

Ahaana frowned. “Don’t like what?”

“You leaving.”

There. He said it.

And for the first time in days, he finally let himself admit that this—her—was something he wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

Ahaan took a breath, and paused as if thinking about what to say to him. "Okay." She sighed. "Charles, Look, I can’t do this. Not right now.”

Instead of answering, he turned on his heel and started walking, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets. He heard Ahaana scoff behind him, muttering something under her breath before her footsteps echoed his own.

The café door jingled shut behind them, the warmth of the space left behind as they stepped back onto the cool Monaco streets. The morning sun had risen higher now, casting golden streaks over the wet pavement, but neither of them seemed to notice.

"So that’s it?" Ahaana finally snapped, falling into step beside him, Him having no idea where he was headed. "You’re just going to walk away and sulk because I have to leave for work? Why are you acting like this?"

Charles let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tight. "I’m not sulking."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, really? Because it looks a lot like sulking."

He stopped abruptly, turning to face her. "I don’t know what you want me to say, Ahaana."

She crossed her arms, her eyes scanning his face. "I don’t want you to say anything. I just—" She hesitated, shifting on her feet, before shaking her head. "Forget it."

And just like that, she started walking again, faster this time, like she was trying to outrun whatever had settled between them.

Charles hesitated only a second before he cursed under his breath and followed.

He caught her wrist before she could slip too far ahead, his fingers wrapping gently around it—gentle, but firm enough to stop her. She turned, startled, her lips parting slightly in surprise, but she didn’t pull away.

And in that moment, he just realized his surroundings.

The quiet alleyway in Monaco felt like a forgotten passage, leading straight to the endless blue of the Mediterranean. The textured stone walls, shuttered windows, and wrought-iron balconies stood in silent observation of Charles and Ahaana's story unfolding, as if taking it all in. A single lantern hung delicately above, casting a warm glow, and the uneven cobblestone path sloped gently downward, guiding the way toward an open terrace, its red-tiled edge the last barrier before the sea.

The water glimmered under the soft evening light, stretching endlessly, merging with the sky in golden and blue hues. A faint breeze stirred the stillness, carrying the scent of salt and the distant murmur of waves.

There was a rare kind of solitude here. No voices, no hurried footsteps—just the lingering warmth of the day and the vast, open horizon ahead, and two people caught in a moment that neither of them saw coming.

Charles barely had time to pull her back, his breath still heavy from the moment before, before his eyes locked onto Ahaana’s. The air between them was charged, thick with tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all night. The soft golden glow of the streetlights illuminated her face, casting delicate shadows over her features, but all Charles could focus on was the way her lips were slightly parted, the way her chest rose and fell as if she, too, was struggling to steady herself.

Ahaana didn’t move at first. Neither did he.

For a brief second, the quiet hum of the city in the distance felt deafening, but here—on this deserted street, with the Mediterranean breeze curling around them—everything else ceased to exist. It was just them.

Then, as if something inside him snapped, Charles moved.

His hands gripped her waist, and in one swift motion, he backed her up against the stone wall, the uneven surface pressing against her spine as he crowded into her space. She gasped, her fingers reaching instinctively for his shoulders, her eyes wide with something between anticipation and challenge.

He didn’t give her time to think.

His mouth was on hers in an instant, claiming her in a kiss that was nothing short of desperate. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing—just pure, unfiltered hunger. His lips moved against hers with an intensity that left no room for doubt, his hands sliding up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing over her cheeks as he deepened the kiss.

Ahaana melted against him, her grip on his shirt tightening, her body arching slightly into his. He groaned into her mouth, swallowing the soft, breathy sounds she made as their tongues tangled, as he drank in every reaction she gave him.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t gentle.

It was fire—burning, consuming, a culmination of every glance, every lingering touch, every unspoken desire that had led them here.

His hands roamed down, skimming over the curve of her hips before gripping them tightly, pulling her flush against him. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, and the sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

And then—his lips left hers, trailing lower, down along her jawline.

He could feel the way her breath hitched, the way she tipped her head back slightly, as if inviting him in. Charles didn’t hesitate. His lips found the delicate skin of her neck, and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the pulse point there, feeling it hammer wildly beneath his mouth.

Ahaana trembled in his arms.

He smirked against her skin before dragging his tongue over the spot, savoring the taste of her, the warmth of her. Then, with deliberate slowness, he nipped at the sensitive skin, just enough to make her gasp, to send a shudder rippling through her.

He felt her fingers tangle in his hair, her grip tightening as he continued his path downward. His lips traced along the curve of her neck, pressing slow, lingering kisses before he latched onto a spot just below her ear, sucking lightly.

Ahaana whimpered.

The sound sent something dark and possessive surging through him. He kissed her harder, his tongue flicking out to soothe the mark he’d just made before moving even lower. He was relentless, his lips and teeth exploring every inch of exposed skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He wanted to wreck her, to make her feel exactly what she was doing to him.

“Charles,” she breathed, her voice unsteady, her hands sliding down his chest, gripping onto him like he was the only thing keeping her upright.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Her lips were swollen, her pupils blown wide with something he knew mirrored his own.

His fingers skimmed along her jaw, then trailed down to her throat, his thumb brushing over the spot he had just kissed. The way she looked at him—raw, open, completely undone—nearly made him lose the last shred of control he had.

Instead, he exhaled sharply, a smirk tugging at his lips as he whispered, “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Ahaana swallowed hard, her breath still uneven, and she looked up at him with something dangerously close to surrender.

And Charles?

He knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t nearly done with her yet.

The silence between them was deafening now. Not the kind that was comfortable, the kind that made words unnecessary—but the kind that held unspoken truths, that pressed against Ahaana’s chest like an invisible weight.

She had to leave in five hours.

She hadn’t meant to let it get this far. The way Charles kissed her, touched her, looked at her—it had stripped her of all logic, all reason. But reality had a cruel way of creeping in when the moment ended, and now, standing in the dimly lit street, her lips still tingling from his, she felt the cold sting of it.

This wasn’t something she could allow herself to fall into. Not again.

Not after what happened last time.

She had been reckless before, trusting, letting herself believe in something that had felt just as electrifying, just as undeniable—until it had shattered, leaving her with nothing but scars that still ached when she thought about them. It had taken everything in her to piece herself back together, to rebuild the walls she swore she wouldn’t let anyone climb again.

And yet, Charles had scaled them effortlessly.

He was still leaning against the wall, his hands resting on his knees, his breathing uneven as if he was trying to steady himself. When he finally looked at her, she saw it—the flicker of something deeper in his green eyes. Not just desire, but something heavier. Something dangerous.

Something she couldn’t afford to chase.

“This…” She exhaled, shaking her head, even as every part of her wanted to take it back. “This isn’t a good idea.”

His jaw tensed, and for the first time since she had met him, she saw the slightest crack in that smooth, confident exterior. But it was gone in a blink, replaced by a small, almost indifferent nod. “I get it.”

She swallowed hard. “Charles—”

“No, I do,” he interrupted, pushing off the wall. He rolled his shoulders, forcing out a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You have your reasons. And you’re leaving soon. It wouldn’t make sense.”

It was everything she had told herself. Everything she knew to be true. But hearing him say it back made her feel like the biggest liar in the world.

Because it did make sense.

Because for those few stolen moments, when he had kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, it had felt terrifyingly right.

Ahaana wrapped her arms around herself, forcing her voice to stay even. “I just—I can’t let myself go through that again.”

His expression faltered, just for a second, and she wondered if he had been burned before, too. If he understood what it was like to give yourself to something only for it to slip through your fingers.

Charles took a slow step toward her, not close enough to touch, but close enough that she could see the shadows of conflict playing across his face.

“I won’t fight you on this,” he murmured. “If you don’t want this, if you don’t want me, I won’t make it harder.”

But that was the problem.

She did want him. More than she should. More than she had let herself want anything in a long time.

And that was exactly why she had to walk away.

Ahaana took a step back, putting distance between them, and Charles nodded again, his hands flexing at his sides like he was holding himself back from reaching for her.

“Goodbye, Charles.”

He forced a smile, but his voice was quieter when he said, “Yeah. Take care, Ahaana.”

She turned before she could change her mind, before she could let the look in his eyes unravel the resolve she had barely managed to hold onto.

And as she walked away, every step felt like a battle between what she knew was right and what she knew would haunt her long after she was gone.

Because Charles Leclerc wasn’t the kind of man you kissed once and forgot.

And some things—some people—left a mark no matter how hard you tried to walk away.

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ᝰ.ᐟ fifth part! hope you guys like it!

next

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tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @sp1rl @charlesgirl16 @leila-030304 @uhcalli @blahblechblah @phobiccneel @blushmimi

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© weekendlusting

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[unintentionalseductress]

Vanilla Twilight

Warnings: None! Fluffy with a little angst. Summary: You ask Caleb to your prom. A/n: I was sad today and I chose Caleb as my comfort character. Enjoy this bit of fluffiness. Not proofread.

A pleasant, late, spring breeze floats dreamily through your open window, the hallmark of a typical May in Linkon City. The late afternoon sun bathed the quiet streets of Bloomshore District in gold, casting long shadows over the sidewalks where kids rode their bikes and neighbors tended their gardens. It was peaceful—normal. A stark contrast to the vast, high-tech world of Skyhaven. 

You fidget with your hair as you ring Caleb’s number. Despite his reassurances that you were never a bother to him, you always hesitated to call him when he was away at college. He could be in training or hanging out with his friends and you didn’t want to appear like the typical, clingy, needy, girlfriend. 

The call connects and Caleb’s face comes into view.

“Pip-squeak!” He grins and waves at the camera. A resounding chorus of ‘pip-squeak’ can be heard off-screen and Caleb glances over his shoulder before shaking his head. 

“You’re all just jealous because you’re single!” He calls and he’s met with loud, obnoxious kissing noises. Shaking his head exasperatedly, Caleb gets up, angling the camera so that you can still see him as he finds a quieter spot to talk.  

“Sorry about that. You know how the guys can be.” 

You laugh, nodding, despite the blush that comes into your cheeks. “Were you going back  to the dorm?”

“Yeah. We just finished dinner.” Caleb sits down on a bench and rests his chin on his palm. “So what’s up?”

You take a deep breath, then share your news. “Prom’s coming up.”

“Oh, already?”

You huffed a laugh. “Yes, already. I swear, time moves differently for you up there.”

“It kinda does,” Caleb admitted. “One day it’s basic drills, the next it’s high-speed aerial maneuvers. Feels like I blink and a week’s gone.”

He smiles warmly. “Remember all your friends being jealous of you because you got to attend senior prom with me?”

You smile and nod. “As green as the Wicked Witch of the East! It was so magical. It was one of the last times we spent together before you left for Skyhaven.”

Caleb’s eyes were glazed over with nostalgia as he remembered. “Yeah. You still have the hairpin I bought you to match your dress?”

”Of course I do! I still wear it when I’m feeling fancy.” You pause then hedge on. “Caleb…would you be able to attend my prom?”

He laughs, full and easy at the question. “Why pip-squeak? Are you thinking about who to invite as a backup if I say no?” 

“No!” You pout and look at him reproachfully. 

Caleb only chortles at your sullen face. “C’mon, pip-squeak. I’m only joking. So? When is it?”

You tell him the date and wait with bated breath. Your heart skips a beat when you see his expression falter slightly.

”Aw shoot. Pip-squeak…” Caleb hesitates and sighs deeply. “That’s the same day as my flight combat assessment. It’s an important part of my grade, they won’t clear me for solo missions if I don’t take it.”

He sees your face fall and it feels like someone is standing on his throat. Guilt falls heavily on him as he sees you trying to hide your disappointment. “You know I would. I’d never miss this if I could help it. Not for anything.”

You swallow, trying to hide the tears that are threatening to spill over from your eyes. “Right,” you say, forcing a small chuckle. “I figured. Just thought I’d ask, you know? No harm in trying.”

Silence fills the room, and it’s eventually broken by Caleb’s conflicted voice. “I hate this.” His head falls backward and he squeezes his eyes closed. When he looks at the camera again you can see the regret flooding his pretty purple eyes and try to arrange your features into a state of convincing conviction. 

“It’s ok,” you murmur. “Your assessment is more important than prom. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” 

“I’ll make it up to you. A thousand times over. I promise”

You sniff, and nod, trying to smile. “I’ll hold you to it.” Feeling dangerously close to tears, you quickly add, “Gran’s calling me for dinner. I gotta go. Talk to you later.”

”Ok, pip-squeak.” Caleb nods, though unwillingly. “Call me if you need me though.” 

You hang up, and not a moment later, curl up into your pillow and sob, the hot tears finally letting loose. It was so unfair that Caleb was older than you, that he was in college when you weren’t. And deep down, you felt like you were being unreasonable. 

Caleb was by no means a negligent boyfriend. He visited as often as he could, sent texts and memes, and spent all his vacations with you. You felt awful for being upset at him for not being able to attend prom, for feeling like this one incident somehow upstaged all the other wonderful things about him. It wasn’t like he had declined for an insignificant reason. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you did. You were feeling let down, unimportant, and worst of all, like an immature little girl, waiting for her Prince Charming to drop everything and come see you like he had no real life adult priorities. 

It sucked. The situation sucked. And there was nothing you could do about it.

Prom would still happen. But without Caleb it felt like you were stuck in a vision of gray when everything should have been so vividly colored. 

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The halls of your high school buzzed with excited energy as people discussed prom plans. Colorful posters hung from the walls, scrawled with messages like “One Night to Remember!” and “Save the Last Dance!”. Everywhere you turned, someone was talking about dresses, dates, and limo rentals. 

The hallways were witness to some pretty spectacular promposals and each time you saw someone accepting, it felt like a punch in the gut. You felt irrationally angry all the time. 

”Pathetic immature fools,” you grumbled as you walked past yet another happy couple. “Like a party is the most important thing in their lives. I for one, happen to know that there are real life problems that require more maturity to handle. Can’t believe I used to be so silly, thinking a party was going to make or break my year.”

Your friend scoffs and shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “C’mon! You’re just annoyed Caleb said he’s not coming. But you shouldn’t let that stop you!” She links her arm with yours and gives you a shake. “You’re still going, right?”

”Really? You want my single self hanging around all of you happy couples? Nah I’m good. Ouch!”

You glare as you rub your arm where your friend had pinched you. “What was that for?”

”You only get one senior prom your whole life. I don’t want to go without you. So please, stop moping. Caleb would be so mad if you didn’t go. He’d blame himself and you know it. Do you want to disappoint Caleb?” 

She crosses her arms and gives you a stern look and it’s enough to make you flinch. She was right. Caleb would blame himself if you missed senior prom. But you hated how everyone seemed to know that using Caleb on you was the ultimate leverage to get you to do anything.

”Fiine. I’ll go. But only because you begged.”

Your friend smiles triumphantly. “Good. Now let’s go find the rest of the group. We have to talk about dress shopping.”

You nod primly and follow her, but your stomach churns at the image of being surrounded by couples, slow-dancing under twinkling lights, while you stand off to the side, pretending it didn’t bother you. 

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“Dude, you look like you’re about to fight a black hole.”

Caleb blinks, looking up to see Gideon leaning against the doorframe. “Not now, man,” he mutters, rubbing his temples.

”Unless my eyes deceive me, it looks like our resident lover boy has quite the problem on his hands.” Gideon grins and sits down on Caleb’s bed.

”Piss off.”

”Look man, I’m trying to help you.” Gideon raises his hands in a gesture of peace. “You’ve been down since that call with her a few weeks ago. Wanna tell me what happened?”

Caleb sighed. If this hadn’t been Gideon, he might not have said anything. “She asked me to prom. I told her I couldn’t go.”

Gideon winces. “Oof. Harsh.”

Caleb shot him a glare. “Not like I had a choice.”

Gideon crosses his arms. “Did you, though?”

Caleb opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. Did he? Training was brutal. Wouldn’t skipping this one assessment destroy his career?

“She was there for your prom,” Gideon pointed out. “She danced with you all night. You really wanna be the guy who let her down when it was her turn?”

Caleb clenched his fists. “Gideon, I am this close to punching you. If you see a loophole I don’t, now would be the time to say it.”

Gideon grins at him. “You have an elderly grandmother. Hard to predict when the elderly fall ill, isn’t it?” 

”What?” Caleb stares at him, at a loss for words. 

“Think, my dear Caleb.” Gideon stands and makes his way to the door. “You rank top of our class. I’m sure you’ll figure things out regarding your poor, frail, delicate grandma.” He leaves and Caleb stares at the doorway, thinking. 

After a second, the lightbulb goes off in his head. 

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Prom night arrived all too soon. You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, adjusting the delicate straps of your gown. The soft fabric shimmered under the glow of the vanity lights, a soft shade of periwinkle. Your makeup complimented your features, with a subtle smokey eye and lighter, more natural lips. You’d spent a lot of time fussing with your hair, getting to look elegant and setting it into place using hairspray. You’d carefully inserted the hairpin Caleb had gotten you last year as a finishing touch, and it sparkled every time your head moved. You looked beautiful. 

You didn’t feel it. Your stomach felt hollow, and your mind weighed heavily on Caleb. There was no one waiting for you at the foot of the stairs, and you wouldn’t have any photos to remember this evening by, save for the group photo that you knew your friends would force you to take. You supposed you’d drink punch and make small talk with the chaperones. Last year, you were the girlfriend of the basketball star, who had been lucky enough to attend senior prom. Now you were alone, going without a date, and had no idea what you were going to do for the whole night.

Your friends had insisted you find another date to the prom but the idea felt distasteful to you, knowing that Caleb must be feeling the same way you were at the moment. It almost felt cheap, trying to find a date even if it meant nothing, to such an event. Because you knew that if you ever wanted to remember tonight, you’d rather it was without Caleb than with someone insignificant. 

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.

Josephine peeks inside, a warm smile on her face. “Wow, sweetheart. You look stunning.”

You forced a small smile. “Thanks, grandma.”

The old woman is holding a small box as she hobbles towards you, adjusting a loose curl near your shoulder. “Are you excited?”

You hesitate. “Yeah. I mean… it’s prom, right?”

Josephine studied you for a moment, then gives a knowing look. “He would’ve been here if he could, you know that.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and nodded. “I know.”

Josephine gestures the box towards you. “It only came just now. It’s obvious he misses you.”

Curiously, you open the wrapping paper and your breath catches as you remove a small plastic box containing the most beautiful corsage you’ve ever seen. A small card is taped at the top of the box. You open it with trembling fingers and recognize Caleb’s handwriting. 

I’m sorry I can’t be there. Please wear this and know I’m thinking of you. Love, Caleb.  

You sniff, and fan yourself, controlling the onslaught of tears that seemed ready to emerge at the smallest of things lately. Josephine smiles gently and pulls you into a hug, and you embrace her back, holding onto her tightly. When she lets go, you find that your heart feels much lighter. You slip the corsage on your wrist and get ready to leave. 

જ⁀➴જ⁀➴જ⁀➴

The limo ride to the school felt long, and all your friends seemed immersed in their dates, but you found that you didn’t mind too much. It felt surreal somehow, but you had taken comfort in the knowledge that summer would be here soon, and that meant Caleb would be home for a few months. Prom felt like a tiny sliver of your life that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, especially given the plans Caleb seemed to have for you this summer. A road trip, calm walks around Linkon, movies, and building model planes together. Those mattered more than one night of your life, and you felt grown up at the realization. Just because Caleb wasn’t here for prom did not make him any less yours. You fondly caress the flowers on your wrist and smile. 

The school gymnasium had been transformed into something magical. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a golden glow over the dance floor. A soft, romantic melody played through the speakers as couples swayed together, lost in their own little worlds. 

You wait patiently in line for the photo booth. A photographer was snapping photos for everyone and you decided you would take one for Caleb, knowing he’d probably carry it around in his wallet of you gave it to him. You glance up and smile at the photographer, and for a brief moment, you see your friends suddenly look over your shoulder before their eyes snapped back to you. The flash blocks out their faces and when it’s over, they were all grinning at you. Puzzled, you take the polaroid the photographer offers you and flap it through the air a few times before looking.

Your eyes grow wide when you see the second person in the photo and you whip around, feeling like you might sink onto the floor. 

“Hey, pip-squeak.” Caleb smiles at you from where the backdrop is hanging. He was still in his tan and black flight uniform, the letters DAA embroidered on the front chest pocket. 

Feeling like you were sleepwalking, you stumble towards him, a million questions in your head. Caleb gently takes your hand in his, peering earnestly at your face.

“I know I’m a little late. But do you think you’d like to go to prom with me?”

You bite your lip because you can feel the onslaught of turbulent emotions spinning around inside of you and despite your best efforts, you can feel the painful prick of tears beginning to become present. 

“You idiot,” you whisper before he pulls you into his arms, embracing you tightly against his chest. 

“Don’t cry. You’ll stain my uniform.” Caleb teases but his heart is hammering in his chest. “Can I take this hug as a yes?”

You sniffle and quickly dab at your eyes, nodding. You gripped the front of his uniform. “How—how did you even—”

“Well, let’s just say the next time you’re in Skyhaven and someone asks about Gran, you’re gonna have to say she’s not doing that well.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Caleb, what did you say?”

“It’s not important,” Caleb says hastily as his fingers trace the hairpin you’d fastened earlier. “Trust me, it was worth it.” 

“Fine.” You push away the thought. He was here. Despite it all. 

Right on cue, a soft, love song begins to drift through the speakers. 

“May I have this dance?” Caleb asks and you smile at him, nodding. He leads you onto the dance floor, and your arms lock around his neck as you gaze into his eyes, so familiar and comforting as he leads. 

“The stars lean down to kiss you And I lie awake and miss you Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere…”

The song seems to speak your minds to each other. Caleb leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. 

“...Cause the spaces between my fingers Are right where yours fit perfectly”

“I…I had made up my mind to be an adult about this you know?” You ask him as you press against him. His hands wrap around your waist. 

“Oh really? Were you putting on a brave face, pretending it didn’t bother you?” 

“Yeah…Till you came along and ruined it.”

Caleb snorts amusedly, and you join in, your breaths mingling together under the hazy lights. 

“Sorry pip-squeak. My bad. Should I leave so you can go back to pretending?” He laughs loudly as you punch his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” you threaten and Caleb’s expression softens.

“Never. I’ll always be by your side. You don’t ever have to doubt that.” You settle back into his embrace, and let the song wash over you. 

“...When violet eyes get brighter And heavy wings grow lighter I'll taste the sky and feel alive again And I'll forget the world that I knew But I swear I won't forget you Oh if my voice could reach back through the past I'd whisper in your ear "Oh darling, I wish you were here…"

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @ravenclaw-jojo @cordidy @hesperisms @redactedbimbo @erebus-et-eigengrau @prisjean @cheesemachine44 @decileste @thesoftuglywrites @belt0-0 @snatched-bubblegum-bitch

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Thousand Yard Stare Chapter 5

Summary: Bucky Barnes has served his country well, and at a great personal cost.  After being rescued as a prisoner of war, he is struggling as he gets back into civilian life.  His newfound PTSD is severe.  His friends and family try to help, but he needs a lot more than they can give.  His mother signs him up for a Veteran recovery home, where he meets people struggling just like him, and the home director who has her own dark past to deal with.  He might just find love along the way as he searches for peace.

Warnings: mentions of physical assault, violence, being taken prisoner; sexual assault/r@pe; PTSD/anxiety/depression/panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares; suicide/minor character death; eventual smut

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The energy between Bucky and Y/N was different after that night.  She was more standoffish at first, which he expected.  But as the weeks went by and he focused on his recovery, she seemed to ease up.  She had said not to hurry recovery for the sake of having a relationship with her, and he didn’t feel like he was.  But it definitely was a factor in how much more effort and time he was putting into the exercises Dr. Strange gave him, and how often he was in the gym or taking advantage of the rage room.  He got more into gardening, since that’s what she was into, and learned a lot and found peace in the process while doing it.  

If anyone else in the house noticed anything, they never mentioned it.  Wanda every once in a while gave Bucky a knowing look but never commented on it, which he appreciated.  He knew he was on thin ice during this waiting game.  He was keeping it professional with Y/N, but each of their cuddle sessions was an exercise in keeping his sanity.  Sometimes they wouldn’t talk, just lay down and hold each other, because that’s all they were going to get for the time being.  It was a sweet torture, getting to hold her while not giving in to his desires, especially after knowing how she felt, how she kissed, what her touch was like as he hovered above her…

Their monthly family karaoke night was coming up and Bucky was excited to see Y/N sing.  She had slowly been more talkative and open with him again, and he felt hope at the prospect of them being able to work through this awkward wait time.  As they all got into the truck Bucky strategically made it so he was sitting next to her in the front seat as she drove, looping his arm behind her on the seat so as not to bump her arm but also keep her close.  She eyed him amusedly when he did and smiled, a blush dusting her cheeks as she quickly looked away.

When they reached the bar they all shuffled inside and to their regular table.  Pietro went to order their drinks as the first person got up to start karaoke for the night, singing a terrible rendition of “Bad Romance.”  Bucky had made sure to be seated next to Y/N at the table as well, his leg pushed up against her leg as everyone else filed into their seats around them.  When Pietro brought back their drinks and was passing them out Bucky leaned over Y/N to grab his beer from him, bringing his arm around her again so that his chest pushed into her arm.  Each time someone would get up to sing and sing badly he’d laugh and lean into her, whispering something into her ear that would make her laugh, but he could see and feel her slightly shiver as his lips were close to her.  He kept his arm around her all night, his fingers brushing against her back whenever he moved.  As the night wore on he would scoot closer, grip her shoulder every once in a while, and catch her looking at him before she would quickly look away.  

The last call was made and Happy got up.  “Alright, Y/N, it’s your time,” he said, motioning for her to come up.  Bucky smiled widely and moved so she could get out and go to the stage.  She gave him a knowing look before walking up to the stage, the crowd cheering for her. 

“I’ve got a song I’d like to sing, if y’all are okay with that?” she asked as she got ready.  The crowd cheered again and she whispered to Happy, who smiled and got the machine ready.  “Alright, well, I hope you like some Bruno Mars.”  That earned a few whoops as the song started.  Bucky didn’t recognize this one, but enjoyed the vibe as Y/N closed her eyes and smiled to the starting notes.  

“Ooh, I’ve got a body full of liquor with a coco kicker and I’m feeling like I’m 30 feet tall, so lay it down, lay it down,” she sang.  Bucky knew he was in trouble the second she got through that first line.  The beat of the song and the way she sang with an airy, almost whiny tone indicated this was a very sexy song, and he was not prepared for seeing her that way.  The words got progressively more sexual in nature, and he squirmed as her hips swayed.  “Look what you’re doing, look what you’ve done, but in this jungle you can’t run.”  Her eyes found him.  “‘Cause what I got for ya, I promise it’s a killa you’ll be banging on my chest, bang bang, gorilla!”

The chorus erupted and the crowd whooped and hollered as she threw her head back.  Pietro and Scott were banging their hands on the table and Wanda laughed at the leering looks of the people around her.  Clint was on his feet, his hands in the air waving back and forth without a care in the world.  Bucky was stock still, trying not to lose his cool as she continued.  “Yeah, I got a fistful of your hair, but you don’t look like you’re scared, you just smile and tell me ‘Mommy it’s yours,’” she twirled around.  “‘Cause you know how I like it you’s a dirty little lover!”  She sang like no one was watching, feeding off the energy of the crowd around her as they egged her on, hips swaying and her hands running up and down her sides and chest.  Bucky shifted in his chair, trying not to let anyone see his growing problem.  This was payback, revenge for all the subtle touches and longing looks.  

“I bet you never ever felt so good, so good!” She glanced at him.  “I got your body tremblin’ like it should, it should.” She stepped to the edge of the stage.  “You’ll never be the same baby once I’m done with you-ooh-ooh-ooh-ohh, you!”  Y/N sank to her knees, and the crowd went wild.  Pietro stood and started screaming, Bruce was smiling more widely than Bucky had ever seen, Scott and Wanda yelling and throwing things like their drink straws or napkins toward the stage.  Bucky couldn’t help but smile, the love and support in the bar with his newfound friends and the girl he was falling for uplifting him.  Y/N finished the song and stood back up as the bar applauded her, giving a deep bow to everyone before jumping off the stage.

As she approached their table Pietro hugged her and the others all complimented her heavily.  Y/N walked back up to Bucky to grab her purse at her chair and smirked at him.  “Did you like that, Buck?” she asked quietly as she leaned down next to him, making her eye level with him.

“More than you know,” Bucky said huskily, looking deep in her eyes.

Y/N hummed and smiled at him coyly.  She stood up straight and went to pay their tab, then gathered everyone up and led them back out to the truck.  Bucky made sure to sit next to her again in the truck, his arm behind her and one of his fingers gently rubbing her shoulder where no one else could see.  As everyone slowly fell asleep during the ride, Bucky leaned in to Y/N.  “Do you like being called Mommy?” he asked quietly, his lips near her ear and his voice still sounding hoarse.

He could see a shiver run down her spine, her hands tightening around the steering wheel as she blinked rapidly.  Her jaw ticked for a second and she gulped.  “Sometimes,” she whispered.

Bucky hummed.  “I’ll call you whatever you want,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

Y/N breathed deeply.  “I’m driving, Bucky.”

Bucky chuckled and pulled away minutely, keeping his body close.  They reached the house and everyone woke up and filed inside.  They all went into their respective rooms, the sounds of everyone quickly getting ready for bed and then silence mixed with snores echoing in the old house.  Bucky waited for everyone’s lights to turn off and the snores to start before silently leaving his room and walking down the hallway to Y/N’s room.  Her light was still on, and he softly knocked on her door.  He heard a shuffling and her door opened, revealing Y/N in her sleep tank top dress.  He looked her up and down as he leaned against her doorway.  

“Bucky,” she greeted him quietly. 

“Y/N,” he smiled.  

“What can I do for you?” she asked sweetly.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

Y/N seemed to contemplate it for a moment before nodding and stepping aside.  Bucky smiled wider and walked into her room.  He’d never been in it before and looked around, liking her decor and how the comfy room seemed to extend to her room as well.  She closed the door and leaned against it.  After a moment he turned back to her and stared at her.  “You were amazing at the bar, as usual,” he complimented her.

“Thank you,” she said.  They stared at each other for another minute.  The sexual tension was stifling.

Bucky slowly stepped toward her, watching for her reaction.  Y/N didn’t move, and he walked until he was toe to toe with her, lifting his arms and caging her to the door.  She looked up at him as he leaned down, running his nose into her hair again.  “Did you sing that for me?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Y/N said, her breathing getting heavier.  “You shouldn’t tease me, lover boy.  It’s not a game you’ll win.”

“What if I don’t wanna win,” he paused, his lips grazing against her ear, “Mommy?”

Y/N shivered, her hands gripping the hem of her pajamas tightly.  Her head leaned into his and he kissed her ear, moving his leg between her legs so his knee was against her core.  She gasped lightly.  “Buck we…we can’t,” she whined.

“I’m not gonna do anything,” he breathed.  “I’m just here for an extra cuddling session.  Is this not the cuddle room?” he chuckled.

“You need more cuddles?” Y/N laughed.

“With you?  Always,” Bucky said and pulled away.  He took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry,” he huffed.  “I’ll go.  Can I just…”  He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.  “Just a kiss.  Please?”

Y/N’s hands moved to cup his face in her hands.  Her thumbs swept over his cheeks and he opened his eyes to look at her again.  She gave him a small smile before angling her head and kissing him.  Bucky didn’t push for more, kissing her back tenderly until she pulled away.  “Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly.  She sighed and nodded.  “I love you.”

Y/N inhaled shakily.  “I love you,” she whispered.

Bucky kissed her shoulder once more before leaving her room.  When he reached his room he sat on his bed and huffed out a sharp breath.  He knew his time at Mama’s Home would end soon.  He’d been making great strides in therapy, finally starting to feel like his old self again.  There were still small triggers he’d have to work through, probably for the rest of his life, but he was doing well if he was honest with himself.  His friends and family were excited to have him home and were proud of his progress, but he knew the sooner he went home the sooner he wouldn’t see her again for a while.  Or at least until they figured something out.  

***

“All that is to say, I think you’re ready to go home,” Dr. Strange smiled at him.

Bucky smiled back at him.  “You think so?”

“I do,” Dr. Strange nodded.  “I suggest you continue to see a therapist once a month, at least until you feel like you’re able to work through triggers and other issues on your own without too much emotional distress.”  He stood and Bucky stood with him.  He reached a hand out and Bucky took it.  “Congratulations, Sergeant Barnes.  I’m officially releasing you from Mama’s House.”  As he shook his hand Bucky’s heart had a twinge of pain.

“Thank you, sir,” he said.  “I appreciate all your help.”

Bucky left his last therapy session feeling conflicted.  He was proud of himself, of the work he’d put into feeling better.  He was sad, leaving his new friends.  He was happy to go home and see his friends and family.  He was anxious about getting back out into the real world.  It all culminated into a general feeling of unsurety.  He walked into the house and headed for Y/N’s office.  It was time to face the music.

“Come in!” her voice called out.

Bucky walked in.  She was sitting at her desk, typing at her laptop while signing something next to it.  “Hey Y/N,” he greeted her with a tight smile.

Y/N looked up in surprise.  “Oh, hey Buck,” she smiled politely.  She had been nothing but friendly and professional since their moment in her room two weeks ago.  “Dr. Strange just texted me.”  She stood and rounded the desk and opened her arms to him.  Bucky stepped into her embrace, her arms going around his neck.  “Congratulations,” she said quietly.

“Thank you,” he whispered.  “I’m, um, not sure how I’m feeling right now.”

“That’s totally normal,” she laughed as she released him.  “So,” she stepped away and back to her seat, “why don’t you take a seat and we can talk about your next steps?”

“Sounds good,” he said.  

She went through all the exit paperwork with him and they planned a move-out date.  As she was wrapping up the final official things with the VA and insurance and payments, Bucky bit his lip in anticipation.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, noticing his silence and apprehension.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at her.  “And what about us?”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment.  “I honestly don’t know,” she answered.

Bucky nodded.  “Well, your whole life is here.  You’re needed here.  These guys, and thousands of other veterans, need a place like this.  I could…figure something out and come up here–”

“Would you?”  Y/N asked, looking down and fiddling with her fingers.  She glanced at him.  “Would you leave your parents?  Sam?  Steve?  Everything you know is there.  Would you be willing to leave all of that for me?”

“It’s only a few hours drive,” Bucky said, his eyebrows furrowing as he leaned forward.  “You’re making it sound like it’s across the world.”

“Only a few hours away is enough to end most relationships,” she countered.  

“And you think it would end us that easily?” Bucky asked, shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” Y/N sighed, shaking her head as well.  “All we are is stolen moments and inappropriate timings.”

“Is that all this has been to you?” Bucky recoiled.  Y/N didn’t answer, and he felt a piece of him break.  “I see,” he nodded, looking away.  “Well, I’ll get started packing.  You can move my move-out date to tomorrow.”

“Bucky–” she sighed.

“I’m ready to leave,” he said firmly.  He stood quickly.  “Thank you.  For everything.”  He didn’t look at her and turned on his heel, walking away from her.  

***

“I’ll miss you, bud,” Clint said as he hugged Bucky tight.  “Proud of you.  I hope you do all you ever hoped and dreamed and wanted to do.  You can do it, you know?”

“Thanks, Clint,” Bucky chuckled.  “I’ll miss you, too.”

“Don’t be a stranger.  Use social media, you dingbat,” Scott gave his shoulder a light punch.  

“I’m working on it,” Bucky laughed.

He hugged each of them before turning and walking down the steps of the front porch.  His parents were at the car parked on the street, putting his bag in the trunk and then turning to Y/N who stood next to them with Teddy.  “Thank you so much for your help,” Winnie hugged her tight.  “We appreciate all you’ve done for us…for him.”

Y/N didn’t say anything but gave her a wide smile.  George hugged her next.  “Thank you for giving me my boy back,” he whispered in her ear.  

“He brought himself back,” Y/N said quietly.  “We just helped a little along the way.”

Bucky approached and smiled at his parents who got into the car.  Teddy licked at Bucky’s hand and he stooped down to hug the gentle giant.  “Be good, you sweet idiot,” he murmured as he scratched Teddy’s ears.  “Take care of her.”

He turned to Y/N, who took a deep breath and looked up at him.  He watched her for a moment, seeing the tears starting to well up in her eyes.  He stepped toward her and held his arms open.  She stepped into them and hugged him tight, her fingers fisting into his shirt at his back.  He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“Thank you,” he said.  He pulled away and saw her tears start to fall.  She let them as she looked up at him.  

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.  

Bucky stared at her for another moment before stepping away.  Before he opened the car door to get in he turned back.  “Just so you know, I think we could have been pretty great.”  Y/N’s face scrunched in pain.  “And I still love you.  I’ll probably always love you.”  His own tears started to build.  “I’ve got you.”

Y/N whimpered, trying to contain her emotions.  “I’ve got you.”

He nodded.  As he got in the car and shut the door his parents started driving.  Bucky didn’t look back.  He couldn’t look back.  He swiftly wiped any tears that started to fall and sniffed as quietly as possible.  He needed to look forward, as impossible as it seemed.  With everything that he’d learned, with all the tools and resources at his disposal, he knew he could do it.  But letting go of her was so much more painful.  He leaned his head against the backseat and tried to even out his breathing.  He was going home.  He’d be okay.

@wintrsoldrluvr @isitbiorisitlesbian @starfly-nicole @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger @idontknowhowtonormal

[marvelstars]

There´s always a price to pay

Anakin Skywalker

Anakin didn´t have an attachment problem before his mother died. In fact Anakin became attached because his mother died and that lead to his fall in ROTS when he tried to keep Padme alive by any means neccesary. Anakin didn´t get his balance back until ROTJ.

I see a lot of fans, especially anti-anakin fans talk about how his "attachment" problem was the main reason why he could never be a good Jedi, they usually go back to George Lucas commentary about him being fearing for Padme in ROTS because he was attached but if this is their inspiration they are unaware or forget Lucas comments about Anakin on EP I and EPII.

Because Anakin pretty much had to "let go" of his mother in slavery on EP I when he was 9 to become a Jedi. At 9 Anakin wasn´t just compassionate, he was self- sacrificical as well, he did that out of love for his family and for his friends. His only problem was the he loved too much(acording to lucas) and to the Jedi Order eyes.

Anakin was asked to leave his mother behind and never contact her again as the price to become a Jedi, that was what he was asked to do, to truly become a Jedi and he did it.

Anakin wasnt "attached" to his mother, Anakin LOVED his mother just like he loved Padme, that´s different but Jedi teachings didn´t approve of love, you can have "compassion" (even when I can´t remember any Jedi in the actual movies made by Lucas having compassion for anybody in particular, except Luke and Anakin) but you can´t love, that always has been part of their beliefs and fandom needs to remember that, because that´s central to the story.

EP II: Anakin discovers that this singular action of doing everything the Jedi way cost his mother her life, because he wasn´t there to protect her, she got herself a loving family for herself but she was left vulnerable to Tatooine´s dangers while her Jedi Son wasn´t allowed to contact her for 10 years. THIS was the beggining of Anakin´s "attachment issues" THIS was also the beggining of Anakin´s fall to the darkside when he killed the tusken raiders who kidnaped and tortured his mother for weeks in revenge.

Acording to Lucas commentary this singular event unbalanced Anakin for the rest of his life right until Return of the Jedi.

Because from Anakin´s perspective being a Jedi lead to him abandoning his mother and letting her die, that was a mistake he wasn´t willing to allow again. He became fixated on keeping Padme, Rex, his soldiers, fellow padawans, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Palpatine, whoever was under his care alive by any means neccesary and he no longer cared about being the pefect Jedi because being that killed his mother. Still a lot of his efforts were not enough to keep them alive especially during the clone wars, which convinced him he needed to become more powerful to keep them safe, which was the trap Palpatine put to make him fall "Help me destroy the Jedi Order and I will teach you how to save you wife and keep the galaxy at peace, we will have peace" It was a faustian exchange and Anakin agreed, just like he agreed to leave his mother behind so many years ago.

In both the clone wars series and official novels, other characters including Sith like Count Dooku made the comment there was a growing darkness in Anakin post EPII and the reason for this was because he was already using the darkside at the time of the clone wars but he didn´t fall fully into it until ROTS, he used it when he tought he needded it to protect his loved ones or end more quickly a battle in the clone wars.

You know how Lucas enjoys making his narrative ryhme? and both Luke and Anakin stories were made to ryhme.

Luke was presented with this same choice, stay, sacrifice your friends lifes and become a Jedi or leave to rescue your friends. Luke choose to rescue his friends even if it cost him his hand, promising he would come back. Because he feelt more free to do so as a young adult than Anakin at 9. Luke wasn´t the perfect Jedi in Yoda and Obi-Wan´s eyes because he cared for his friends and family but for Luke that was alright because that was the right thing to do.

Luke was presented with another choice, kill your sith father and his master the Emperor to truly become a Jedi. Luke choose to save his father and have compassion for him because for him doing the contrary was cruel and a sure way to fall to the darkside.

This doesnt mean Luke didn´t have doubts or darkside temptations, remember when he force chocked Jabba´s guards and told Jabba he was going to kill him? remember when he almost killed Vader to protect Leia? he was using the darkside to save his loved ones, just like his father did at his age. The difference was that having friends around who supported him unconditionally, not because of duty but because of love, helped to ground him. This gave him the idea that if this worked for him, it could work for his father as well, if only anyone showed him compassion again, not because of duty, not as a quid pro quo but because of plain unconditional love.

This action was enough to awake in Vader himself the desire to have compassion and love again, for his child and for the galaxy, this was the reason why he became self-sacrifical again, just like when he was young and he was willing to throw away his life and the last person he loved, the Emperor, to their deaths if it meant Luke´s Jedi ideology survived everyone. He could not let that die.

So if the fandom is going to talk about how Anakin was "evil" from the beggining and twisted using Lucas arguments about the difference between attachment and love, it would be nice if once in a while they didn´t erase the commentary Lucas made about the real origin of Anakin´s attachment.

[transentiencestudios]

Just a couple of sketches of the alien shrimp bois I wanted to share—the Nar-Haan! They’re a peaceful, tribal-like civilization living deep within the caves of Blue Moon, a rogue planet orbiting a black hole. With Blue Moon, I wanted to emphasize the idea that life always finds a way—even in the most extreme and unexpected conditions.

The Nar-Haan never developed advanced technology, but they use bio-organic gadgets powered by natural biological processes to help them in their daily lives. While their intelligence is high enough that they could become a spacefaring species if someone uplifted them, nobody even knows they exist—until the crew randomly encounters one of them: Vek-Tor (the one with the purple face).

The only light source in the Nar-Haan’s caves comes from bioluminescent fungi growing along the ceilings. However, their environment is usually very dark, which is why their most important body regions can emit pulses of light to communicate over long distances.

When interacting up close, they use their feelers to physically connect, exchanging brain signals directly. This allows them to understand each other’s thoughts and even emotions without words. Their entire form of communication is based on electrical signals rather than spoken language.

I’ve already written some pages about their culture and other details, but I don’t have much time to fully develop them at the moment. I might, though—depending on how much people want to see more of these guys, lol. I’ve just been and still am extremely busy drawing art for our overall setting.

Hopefully, I’ll get the chance to develop Blue Moon in its entirety someday. It’s been my passion project for years—a way to explore a strange planetary environment in deep detail. Aside from my character (the Commander), it’s the only thing that truly reflects how emotionally connected and fascinated I feel to space and evolution as a whole.

- Eight

[berfgrimm]

CRΣΣKS | choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

pairing: choi seunghyun (t.o.p) x reader

warning: angst, minor blood/injury, some fluff, mentions of addiction & depression, mentions of character death within the context of acting (idk how to explain it i’m so sorry)

note: i had this idea about being an actor and starring in squid game while I was listening to my sad playlist so this is what came of that. please enjoy, i love you all.

———————

Emotional scenes were never your favorite to film, especially in front of so many people. You hated having to cry or scream, because, even though you were acting, forcing your body to experience those emotions could exhaust you under normal circumstances. Knowing that this would be your final scene on Squid Game added to the emotion, sure, but there was something that complicated things even more. Seunghyun.

The two of you met for the first time during the casting announcement for the new season. You’d heard of him before, and though you didn’t know much about him, you found him to be very kind, and reserved. When you noticed that he tended to keep to himself, you made every effort to include him, and after a while, you saw him begin to come out of his shell.

Over the course of filming, you grew closer to Seunghyun as the majority of your scenes were together. You both worked hard to craft two characters that compliment one another, letting your blossoming real life friendship bleed through on screen.

You created a rich history that these two characters experienced together, stretching back to their childhood — two people that were driven apart by military service and arranged marriages that fell through. You invented school trips to museums, and vacations to experience live music. You created two characters who didn’t see a future that wasn’t plagued with addiction and depression, but still hustled every day to keep their head above water. You drew from your own experiences with love and heartbreak to create two characters that would never find peace with one another. You fell in love with Thanos and his muse.

After filming wrapped each day, you would often get dinner together and discuss your interests or workshop ideas for your characters. You ended up staying over at his place more often than not, falling asleep on the floor while watching a movie together. You spent more time with Seunghyun than you did by yourself, but it never once felt like it was too much.

When you explained your relationship to a friend, they were certain there was more going on between the two of you than just a platonic bond. The thought hadn’t occurred to you before; even though you knew Seunghyun was attractive, you never looked at him through that lense before. You assured your other friend that you didn’t see Seunghyun that way and you were sure he felt the same. You didn’t allow the thought to fester in your mind, too afraid of it ruining your friendship.

So, here you are. Preparing for your final scene before you wrap. You’ve created a character that you’re infinitely proud of and now you have to say goodbye. But it’s more than that. You know that you’ll be saying goodbye to Seunghyun as well. He still has a few scenes to film, and though you wish you could stay to watch, you have to catch a flight later to start production on your next project. So when you spot him standing quietly behind the crew, watching you set up, you find it hard to fight back the tears.

You’d never found yourself in a situation like this. You got along with many of your co-stars on other productions, and made friendships that would last a lifetime, but this was different. Seunghyun was different from all of them. You’d never spent all day and night with a co-star before. You’d never studied art and poetry with a co-star and discussed it at length until your mouth went dry. You’d never created a shared playlist with a co-star, so of course you never fell asleep with your head on their shoulder while you listened to it. You’d never felt this hollow when you envisioned your life after wrap.

You sit on the edge of the bunk, resting your elbows on your knees so you can clasp your hands together. You breathe in and out as slowly as you can, preparing yourself to film this next scene. When the tears sting at your eyes, you sit up straight, rolling your shoulders.

“Shut up,” you whisper to yourself. “Don’t cry yet. Just hang on.” Your actor mentality kicks; you don’t want to waste tears when you have to film a crying scene. “Pull it together,” you mutter under your breath. “Come on.”

It could have been any other scene, and maybe it wouldn’t have felt like this. You are forced to end your time on Squid Game with the demise of Thanos. In some ways, it’s fitting; sending off both of your characters at the same time. You’d already filmed your remaining scenes but you dreaded this one the most. You think that the production team sensed it, and arranged it like this intentionally; you hope they’ll forgive you if you don’t thank them for it.

Filming feels like pulling your heart out of your chest and holding it out in front of you for everyone to see. The sound of your cries echoing in the silent dormitory is surreal, tears streaming down your face with no signs of slowing. When you fall to your knees on the floor, lamenting the loss of your partner, you feel it — the lines start to blur between the characters and yourself, and your cries become real.

It’s the absence of Seunghyun that scares you. Having been so dependent on one another for months like this makes you fear the loss of him. Of course you’ll be able to call or text or even visit, but you fear it won’t be the same. Does your connection only exist in the confines of your characters? Was this born of longing in the art you created together? Fuck, your head feels like it’s going to collapse on itself.

You don’t realize that you’ve gone on autopilot, lost in your mind to your thoughts but still present in the scene. You also don’t notice that you’ve repeatedly slammed your fist against the floor as you deliver your lines, not until you feel someone wrap their arm around your back and grasp your hand to stop you. Ha-neul. He cradles you against his chest, something that you hadn’t rehearsed but something that fits the scene nonetheless.

When the take ends, you prepare to tell the director that you’d need a break to compose yourself before trying again, because somewhere in your mind you felt that it wasn’t what he needed. Maybe it was too much.

“It was perfect.”

The director was certain, along with your castmates who make sure to check on you as Ha-neul helps you to your feet. You feel like you are outside of your own body, watching from above as you are handed a rag to stop the bleeding on your hand. You try to find Seunghyun but you get lost in the crowd, being pulled in different directions as people praise your performance. You say your quick goodbyes, needing to get away from everyone as you become overwhelmed.

Your hands tremble on the walk to your trailer, your breath coming out in shudders as you try to regain your composure. When you step into the trailer and pull the door shut behind you, the silent tears start to fall.

“Do you need me to bandage your hand?”

Seunghyun is sitting on the sofa of your trailer, holding a first aid kit in his hands, a gentle smile on his face. You nod, stifling your tears and replacing them with what you hope reads like relief because you’re so glad it’s him.

Seunghyun stands, crossing to you and taking your uninjured hand to lead you back to the sofa. He makes sure you sit comfortably before he kneels on the ground in front of you, setting up the first aid kit so he can begin to clean your wound.

You can only watch him in silence at first, your eyes darting back and forth between his hands and his face, watching how he concentrates on his work. The tears start to return, quiet again but you struggle to hide the way you start to tremble.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit, looking down at your hands as he presses a large bandage to your skin. He sighs softly, his hands now still as he stares at the bandage.

“I know,” Seunghyun whispers after a moment of silence. “I don’t want you to leave either.” He shifts his grip on your hand so he now holds it with both of his, fingers gently stroking the top of your hand.

“I think everything is going to be different now,” you say, quietly. Seunghyun pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a soft sigh, as if he’s trying to find the words. You feel a pang of worry in your chest that he doesn’t feel this same ache in his chest as you do at the thought of leaving.

“I’ll still be here,” he says, finally making eye contact with you. “I won’t keep you out.” You stare into his eyes, an ache in your jaw from struggling to hold back your sobs.

Seunghyun wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb before he takes hold of your chin with the gentlest grip. When his lips touch yours, you feel as though you drift away, floating above the trees out of your body. You’d never felt something so tender and meaningful. It’s over as soon as it begins, and your eyes stay closed, too afraid that you’d imagined it.

“When do you leave?” Seunghyun’s voice rumbles through your bones, settling heavy in your chest. You open your eyes slowly to meet his gaze again.

“Soon,” you reply, your voice sounding unlike your own: weak and forlorn.

“Okay,” he nods. “We can stay here until then.”

Seunghyun sits beside you on the sofa, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close to his chest. He offers you headphones to share, to enjoy your playlist together one more time. Relaxing into his arms, you toil over your emotions; what happens now? Is this the end or is there something else? You can’t bring yourself to even think of it yet, because right now, the world doesn’t exist beyond the walls of your trailer.

[szariahwroteit]

Girls Need Love: A Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 6

From the moment Giselle had stirred awake in the silence of an empty bed that morning, a tempest of emotions had stirred within her. The remnants of the previous night clung to her like a heavy fog, swirling with a chaotic blend of feelings. Among them, fear loomed largest, casting a long shadow over her thoughts, while regret wrapped around her heart, tight and suffocating. Memories of passion and tension flickered in her mind, but the haunting ache of unresolved choices refused to let her find peace.

She desired Kylian and wanted to be his, but the walls around her heart, though feeling weak, had to remain. She needed to protect herself at all costs.

“If you want him, why are you making this so hard for yourself?” Camille asked empathetically over FaceTime, her heart heavy as she took in Giselle’s bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“Because I can't have him; I don't know how to be with anyone without putting them in Jalen’s shoes. Having sex with someone is easier than trusting them with your heart,” Giselle sniffled.

“Maybe that’s where you’re going wrong,” Camille replied gently, urging her friend to confront her fears. “You keep comparing Kylian to Jalen, who’re two completely different people. You’re afraid of falling, but you need to give yourself the chance to fly.”

Giselle shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Camille's words pressing into her like a tangible force. “What if I let him in, and it all goes wrong? What if I’m recreating the same patterns? I can’t do it again.”

Camille leaned closer to the screen, her expression sincere. “You won’t know unless you try. Kylian isn't Jalen, and you aren't the girl you were two years ago.”

Giselle let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding as Camille's words resonated within her. They stood as a stark reminder of the growth she’d undergone since that dark chapter, yet the fear still wrapped around her like a vice. Two years had passed, but it felt as though they weighed like a thousand, carrying with them the scars of betrayal, distrust, and heartbreak.

“But what if I get hurt again?” Giselle whispered her voice a blend of vulnerability and defiance.

Camille sighed, her brow furrowed. “That’s life, Giselle. There is no guarantee, but is that a reason to shut it all out?”

Giselle glanced at the window, squinting against the morning light. The beautiful snowy terrain did little to calm her racing mind.

“Cam, I am terrified of being hurt, but I am also scared that I might hurt Kylian, and he doesn't deserve that,” she admitted, her voice trembling. The weight of her fears felt almost unbearable as they hung between them like an invisible barrier.

“Giselle, everyone carries their own baggage,” Camille replied, her tone soothing yet firm. “Kylian deserves your honesty—if he wants you, he’ll understand your struggles and support you through them. But you have to be willing to let him in.”

A part of Giselle wanted to believe that. The other part shivered at the mere thought of vulnerability. “You think he’ll really understand? What if I open up, and it scares him away?” She winced at the thought of Kylian walking away from her because the baggage she carried was too heavy.

She had opened up to Kylian about Jalen before, but even then, she focused more on the physical changes she went through, having to hide bruises and clues of his abuse from the world.

But emotionally and mentally, she wasn't sure how to even begin navigating those waters with him.

Camille watched as Giselle's anxiety began to manifest, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “You won’t know what his reaction will be unless you try,” she urged gently. “It’s no small feat to share wounds, but if you keep everything locked away, you’ll never find healing, let alone love.”

Giselle felt the weight of emptiness settle in her stomach. Kylian deserved better than the shadows that haunted her. How could she lay bare the scars when she was so afraid he might recoil? She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitation held her tongue captive.

“Giselle, if you feel something for him, embrace it,” Camille encouraged, forcing her own thoughts aside to focus on her friend. “What’s the worst that could happen? He’s articulate, kind, handsome, and incredibly rich,” she smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Giselle couldn't help but smile at Camille's lighthearted jab, though the bitterness of her thoughts still lingered beneath the surface. “His money has nothing to do with me,” she replied, her attempt at humor faint and wavering.

“Maybe not, but it seems he enjoys spending it on you!” Camille retorted, grinning widely. “But seriously, Giselle, you have to trust yourself. You’ve fought through so much. You’re not the girl who let Jalen treat her like that anymore. You’re stronger now, even if you don’t fully believe it yet.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m still that girl,” Giselle confessed quietly, her vulnerability seeping through the cracks of her facade. “The girl who let love blind her. The one who clung to the idea of what it should be, ignoring the reality of what was. I’m just afraid… afraid of letting my guard down again.”

Camille's expression softened, her own eyes reflecting understanding. “I get that. But holding onto that fear won’t protect you; it’ll only keep you locked away. You deserve happiness, too, Giselle. Even if it's not Kylian, you deserve to be able to let your guard down.”

“When we leave Switzerland, he's going back to Madrid, and I'm going home to Los Angeles; there is no promise of a future,” Giselle murmured, the weight of their impending separation adding gravity to her already turbulent thoughts. “What if this moment is just a beautiful memory and nothing more?”

“Kylian asked for it not to be. He wants you, and you said no because you are scared.” Camille paused, her voice steady and resolute. “You have to decide if you want to keep running from what could be or if you’re ready to take a leap of faith. You can’t control the future, but you can choose how you respond to the present.”

Giselle felt Camille’s words' warmth seep into her heart, battling against the chill of her fears. “But what if I fall?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Then you get back up,” Camille replied, her tone sure and unwavering. “You’ve done it before, and you can do it again. Falling doesn’t mean you’re weak; it means you’re brave enough to try. And who knows? Maybe this time, you’ll find someone who will catch you.”

Giselle closed her eyes, a tear slipping from the corner of her right as she thought about how far she had come in the last two years, how different she was from the broken and abused woman who used to stare back at her in the mirror.

Camille was right, but when Giselle considered what was at stake, she was scared.

Kylian wasn't Jalen, but the idea of wanting more with him forced her to face her past, which was a daunting prospect. The memories of Jalen's betrayal and the pain that had followed were still fresh, lurking just beneath the surface of her consciousness. Giselle had spent so long building walls to protect herself, and now, the thought of dismantling them felt like standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down into an abyss of uncertainty.

“What if I’m not ready?” Giselle murmured, her voice trembling as she opened her eyes to the reality of her situation. “What if I ruin everything?”

“Then you learn from it,” Camille replied, her voice steady and reassuring. “But you won’t know unless you take that step, Gi. You can’t let fear dictate your life. You deserve to experience life, even if it’s messy and complicated.”

Giselle took a deep breath, the air filling her lungs with a mix of hope and trepidation. “I want to believe that,” she admitted, her heart racing at the thought of Kylian’s smile and how he looked at her. “But what if I’m just setting myself up for heartbreak again?”

“Messing up is a part of life, Giselle. It’s how we grow,” Camille said softly. “But you have to give yourself the chance to feel something real. Kylian is different. He’s shown you kindness and respect. You owe it to yourself to explore that.”

“I guess I can talk to him later; he’s been shooting a commercial all morning,” Giselle explained, using the back of her hand to wipe her tears.

Despite her inner turmoil, Giselle was thankful for Kylian’s team's presence and the full camera crew that occupied the living room and kitchen of the house.

It allowed Giselle the chance to spend most of the day so far, hiding out in the bedroom of the luxurious alpine chalet Kylian shot for Audemars Piguet.

Sitting on the edge of the ornate bed, Giselle wrestled with her thoughts. Light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the elegant lines of the room but failing to penetrate her heart. The echo of Camille's words rang persistently in her ears, urging her to abandon the walls she had so carefully constructed. Yet every time she pictured Kylian's warm gaze, a shiver of uncertainty ran down her spine.

He was everything: charming, handsome, and unafraid to show his desire for her. Yet, the scars of her past clung to her, reminding her of the time she had given her heart so freely, only to have it shattered in the midst of Jalen’s physical and emotional abuse.

The thought of confronting Kylian, of risking the budding connection between them, left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. What if she invited the kind of intimacy they both craved, only to discover that she wasn't capable of giving him her all? The fear twisted in her stomach like a knife, leaving her trembling.

Taking a deep breath, Giselle rubbed her temples, attempting to ease the tension. Camille’s voice had offered clarity yet left her with a decision that felt insurmountable. “What the fuck do you want?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, but Giselle felt like time was slipping through her fingers. Every minute that passed brought the reality of their eventual separation closer. Would they return to their respective cities with only an echo of what could have been, or was there something more waiting for them on the other side of her insecurities?

As if summoned by her thoughts, Kylian entered the room, his presence immediately causing her heart to race. The way his shirt clung to his chest after a long morning of filming made her breath hitch. Even with the camera crew bustling in the background, he focused solely on her, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

The second he noticed her red, puffy eyes, he was at Giselle’s side, his hands encircling her waist as he towered over her.

“Giselle, what’s wrong?” His voice was low and smooth, comforting against the tempest of her emotions. Kylian’s concern cut through her anxiety, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she struggled to shape the swirling thoughts in her mind into words. “I’m sorry about last…,” she managed, her voice trembling slightly as the weight of her fears loomed.

“Talk to me,” he urged his gaze steady and earnest, making her feel seen and cherished in a way that made her ache. The sincerity of his presence compelled her, yet the fear of opening up threatened to swallow her whole.

Giselle hesitated, casting her gaze toward the ground, wrestling with the revelation that hovered on her tongue. The past loomed behind her like a shadow, and she worried that exposing herself would only expose her to pain again. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, feeling the tension heavy between them.

Kylian recognized that she still carried the pain of her past. He understood that she was a woman who had faced various forms of abuse, yet this only strengthened his resolve. As he had told her the night before, he wanted her.

“What if we try and you don't like what you find?” Giselle asked.

“What if I like what I have already found?” Kylian smiled softly.

Giselle's heart stuttered at his words, a warmth blooming in her chest. Kylian’s response was simple yet profound, leaving an impression of hope she hadn’t quite allowed herself to entertain. It was as if he were holding out a lifeline, one that she was terrified yet desperate to reach for.

"You really mean that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes glistening. She was afraid to hope, afraid to believe that he genuinely wanted her, baggage and all.

Kylian stepped closer, closing the space between them, his hands cupping her face gently. "I want you. I don’t want you to hide from me.”

His sincerity was disarming, a soft glow amidst the darkness of her thoughts. But the walls she had built were not easily torn down.

“When you return to Los Angeles, and I return to Madrid, I want to know that we will see each other again; I don't want this to end.” Kylian leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be the one who knows you—not just the parts you show the world, but the parts that make you who you are, the beautiful and broken pieces.”

Giselle’s heart raced at his words, a mix of longing and fear binding them together. “But what if I can’t give you what you want?” she whispered, the vulnerability of the moment hanging between them like a fragile string.

Kylian's grip on her face tightened, his thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. “Then we figure it out together. I’m not asking for perfection; I’m asking you for a chance to give this a try. No labels, no pressure, Giselle. I’m not going anywhere.”

Giselle's heart raced in her chest as his words washed over her. In those moments, the noise of her fears began to fade.

She searched Kylian’s face for the reassurance it offered, his expression a blend of patience and resolve. His dark eyes housed warmth and understanding, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. She wanted to feel that warmth, to surrender to the possibility of something new, but the scars etched in her heart tightened their grip, warning her to retreat.

“What if I fuck up?” Giselle asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty. “What if I push you away?”

“Then you let me in again,” he said gently, his thumbs still tracing the line of her jaw.

Pulling his hands away from her face, Kylian wrapped her in a comforting embrace. Giselle melted against Kylian as he pulled her into his arms, her face nestling beneath his chin as his hands traveled the curve of her back. His touch was soothing and gentle.

“Please, no more crying,” Kylian whispered, his voice a tender balm to her frayed emotions. “I’m not Jalen. I’d never want to hurt you.”

The sincerity of his words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, battling against the chill that had settled so deeply in her heart. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to breathe in his comforting scent, feeling a flicker of hope reignite within the shadows of her worries.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, the tension of vulnerability spilling from her lips like a secret. “Scared of letting you in, scared of being hurt, scared of ruining something that feels so good.”

Kylian pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze with unyielding intensity. Instead of offering her a worded answer, he pressed his lips to hers in an attempt to silence her racing mind.

The kiss was soft yet imbued with a warmth that ignited the flames of longing in Giselle’s chest. It was an invitation, a promise of safety wrapped in the urgency of desire. As Kylian's lips moved against hers, she felt the weight of her fears begin to lift, even if just for the fleeting moment they shared.

Giselle responded instinctively, leaning into him as she closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation that enveloped her like a comforting blanket. The taste of him—warm, rich, and utterly intoxicating—filled her senses, pushing away the shadows that lurked at the edges of her mind.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, Kylian searched her eyes with an intensity that made her heart race. “That’s what I want,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I want you to feel safe with me.”

She bit her lip, a surge of emotion tightening her throat. “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted, her voice shaky.

“Just take it one step at a time,” he urged gently, leaning closer again, his forehead resting against hers. The intimacy of the gesture felt grounding, a tether for her swirling thoughts. “I’m not asking you to bare your soul. Share what you feel comfortable with.”

Giselle nodded slowly, the warmth of his presence soothing her anxiety. Though the memories of Jalen haunted her, there was a flicker of something new, something undeniably real between her and Kylian. She wanted to explore it but was terrified of what lay beneath the surface.

“What if I start to feel things for you that I’m not ready for?” Giselle asked, her brows furrowing with confusion. “What if it becomes too much?”

Kylian’s hand shifted to her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Then we figure it out together,” he replied, his tone earnest. “I need you to be open. Your past doesn’t scare me, Giselle. It shapes who you are, and that’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Giselle echoed, a mix of disbelief and warmth flooding her cheeks. “I don’t feel beautiful.”

“You are,” Kylian said insistently, his eyes never leaving hers. “That strength you carry? It shines through, even when you’re uncertain. I admire that about you.”

“I just feel like I’m a mess,” she admitted, feeling exposed in a way that was both terrifying and liberating. “One moment, I want to embrace what we have, and the next, I‘m too scared to.”

Kylian’s fingers brushed against her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “You don’t have to have it all figured out; that’s what makes this moment so real. We’re both scared, but that doesn’t have to stop us from trying.”

Whether or not he had the courage to admit it, Giselle had left her mark on Kylian. He wasn't entirely sure what the future held, but he knew he couldn't let her go.

Their lives were oceans apart, and they had only known one another for around a week, but he wanted her too much to part ways and have this all become a fond memory; he didn't want her to be.

He wanted her to be someone he could hold in his arms, share laughter and long conversations with, someone who could help him navigate the complexities of his own world.

With each moment that passed, Giselle felt the walls she had built around her heart beginning to crack. Kylian was right; she didn’t have to rush into anything, nor did she have to fear the possibility of their connection fizzling out once they returned to their lives in different countries. What mattered was the present, and right now, Kylian was here, and he wanted her.

“Okay,” she whispered, her heart resistant yet hopeful. “I’ll try. I’ll try to let you in.”

Kylian’s expression brightened, an infectious smile breaking across his face. It lit up the entire room, and for a moment, Giselle felt the heavy weight she’d carried for so long begin to lift.

“Good,” he said softly, bringing his hand back to her waist. “Just take it slow, and we’ll figure it out together, I promise.”

Without thinking, Giselle leaned into him once more, and in that moment, their connection surged with newfound intensity. She surrendered herself to the intoxicating warmth emanating from him, feeling the barriers she had erected slowly giving way to the yearning that had been simmering just below the surface.

And perhaps for the first time in a long time, Giselle felt as though she was reclaiming a part of herself that had been lost. She was no longer the broken girl she had once been; she was stronger, more resilient, and ready to embrace the complexities of life once more.

Kylian’s arms tightened around her, and in that embrace, she felt a sense of safety she hadn’t known she craved. For the first time, she allowed herself to envision a future where they could explore the depths of their connection, even against the backdrop of uncertainty.

“Are you going to leave the bedroom with me? You can't stay locked away.” Kylian softly teased, his voice low and playful, as he brushed his fingers along her arm, an invitation to step into the world outside their intimate cocoon.

Giselle chuckled, her cheeks warming at his lightheartedness. “I don't want to get in the way,” she replied.

Kylian shook his head, his laughter mingling with hers in the open space. “You won't be in the way.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, a playful glint that made her heart flutter. “Besides, I think I could use a little of your expertise on set.”

While Kylian was a star, there was no denying Giselle’s celebrity. She had graced the covers of multiple magazines and posed in campaigns and editorials for some of the biggest brands in the world.

“I’m on vacation,” Giselle reminded him playfully, putting up no protest as he guided her out of the bedroom, his face in the crease of her neck as he led her through the door. The laughter faded, giving way to an electrifying tension that hummed beneath the surface of their every interaction. Each step felt like a dance, choreographed by the unspoken desires that had built up between them.

As they entered the elegantly furnished living area filled with the soft chatter of the crew, Giselle felt a rush of warmth wash over her. Kylian’s presence was steadying, grounding her as they stepped into the chaos of cameras and lights.

“Relax,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear, sending shivers down her spine as he tightened his hold on her.

Kylian couldn't help but smirk as his eyes met with Brice, one of his closest friends and long-time barber, who shot him a knowing smirk.

As Kylian’s confidant, Brice was one of the only people he had spoken to about Giselle, but to see his friend with her—his arms wrapped securely around her waist as he whispered in her ear suggested their were more feelings involved than his brother had originally let on.

Kylian couldnt keep the mischievous smirk off of his face as he caught Brice's eye, who raised an eyebrow suggestively wearing a smirk of his own.

With the cameras rolling, Kylian stood tall, pivoting slightly to shield Giselle from the curious gazes of the crew. Her presence felt good, and it was one he wanted to protect. She leaned into him, comforted by his strong arms, before he let her go so she could go and stand behind the camera and crew.

“Alright, people, let’s get this done!” Kylian called out, his voice ringing with authority, yet playful. His eyes gleamed with mischief, flicking back to Giselle, who looked both fascinated and uncertain.

As the shoot unfolded, Giselle watched in awe as Kylian modeled an array of luxury watches one after the other, his outfits changing to mate the color scheme of each timepiece.

It felt oddly peaceful to sit back and watch from behind the camera for a change, the attention of the room on Kylian as she aimlessly scrolled through Instagram.

He was in his element, exuding the same quiet confidence and charm he always held as he effortlessly navigated through the demands of the shoot. Giselle's stomach fluttered with admiration as he posed, showing off the intricate details of the Audemars Piguet timepieces.

She felt like a spectator in both a dream and a reality—caught up in the ongoing show between cameras and flashes, yet wholly engaged in her feelings for him. The thoughts of her own hesitations started to fade. Kylian’s confidence ignited a spark of joy within her.

“Can you believe this guy?” A voice asked breaking through her thoughts as he moved to stand beside her, his eyes trained on Kylian. “He’s killing it, as always. But you might be making him nervous.” There was an unmistakable teasing lilt to his voice that made Giselle roll her eyes affectionately.

“Nice to meet you, finally,” he smirked, turning to Giselle and holding out her hand. “Brice. Kylian’s best friend and the reason his hair always looks good.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Giselle replied, trying to mirror his easy-going vibe, though her nerves were still a little frayed from their earlier conversation.

Brice was welcoming, it was evident to Giselle in some of the things he said that Kylian had spoken to him about her. There was a familiarity in his manner that made her feel less like an outsider and more like a part of Kylian's world, even if just for a moment.

“You guys met at Elise and Juels’ engagement party, no?” Brice asked, leaning casually against the wall, a playful glint in his eye that hinted at mischief.

Giselle glanced over at Kylian in time to see him falter slightly, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks. “We did,” she confirmed, her mind instantly going to the night of passion that followed.

Brice chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I was traveling so I couldn't attend, but when I spoke to him the next day, he would not stop talking about the girl he met.”

Giselle felt her cheeks heat up at the admission, a mix of embarrassment and pride swelling within her as she looked across the room to where Kylian sat being photographed.

“He enjoys your company,” Brice commented, his tone light but serious enough to convey genuine interest.

“I enjoy his too,” Giselle replied, surprised by how readily the admission slipped from her lips.

Brice was strategic in his conversation, using the time to feel out who Giselle was beyond the face she showed the world.

The longer they spoke the more appreant it became why Kylian was so into her. She was strikingly beautiful, but beyond that she was kind, warm, and had a genuine charm that drew people in. Brice could see the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke about Kylian, a detail that deepened his curiosity about their relationship.

“He really likes you, you know,” Brice remarked, leaning closer to Giselle with an encouraging smile. “I haven’t seen him like this in a while.”

In that moment, Giselle felt a mix of elation and apprehension. Being liked by Kylian felt intoxicating yet terrifying. She bit her lip, looking back to where he posed for the camera, his smile infectious and radiating confidence.

“What does that mean for you? I mean, as you both navigate the distance…” Brice continued, folding his arms and watching her closely.

Giselle’s heart sank slightly at the mention of distance. “I honestly don’t know,” she said truthfully.

She'd had a conversation with Kylian in which they seemed to find level ground, but life was always easier in theory.

Giselle felt a pang of anxiety rise within her as the reality of their separation loomed over her heart like a dark cloud. “We’re both busy people,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “He’s got his life in Madrid, and I have mine in Los Angeles. I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

The conversation between Giselle and Brice continued as Kylian moved to different locations around the house, the shoot continuing into the late afternoon before the photographer announced it was over, earning a round of applause from the crew that worked alongside him.

Kylian was frustrated as he entered the living room, looking for Giselle. She was seated on a plush sectional, her legs tucked beneath her, staying out of the way while the set team cleaned up.

Brice gave Kylian a lazy handshake as he passed him, and Kylian dramatically fell into Giselle’s lap, relaxing his body against hers as he pressed his face against her stomach and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Giselle looked down at Kylian, her fingers instinctively brushing over his hair, and she couldn't help but smile. The moment felt intimate and carefree, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that had occupied her mind earlier.

Kylian lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "You are the best pillow," he teased, hiding a grin as he settled back against her.

“Are you coming to dinner later?” he asked as he snuggled in closer to Giselle, refusing to even lift his head.

As a thank you for his continued work with the luxury brand, Audemars Piguet were hosting a dinner later that evening for Kylian.

He could feel the warmth radiating from Giselle, and it was exactly what he needed after a long day of shooting.

“I guess so,” she replied, her voice soft as she played with his hair, her fingers tracing over his sharp hairline. “I’ll have to start getting ready soon,” Giselle added, her voice a mix of reluctance and anticipation.

Kylian lifted his head, his expression shifting to one of playful seriousness. “I want you to be there,” he said, his voice low and earnest.

Giselle’s heart fluttered at his earnestness, the weight of his gaze sending sparks of warmth through her. “I’ll be there,” she promised, feeling a wave of sincerity wash over her.

“Good. I mean it,” Kylian replied, his smile softening. “Your presence matters to me, Giselle.”

Taking a moment to let his words sink in, Giselle felt a rush of emotions swirl within her: hope, desire, and a lingering fear. The past still hovered like a specter, but as Kylian returned to rest against her, she felt calmer, lighter—more in control than she had felt in a while.

When it was time to begin getting ready, Brice headed to the room he'd be sleeping in for the night while Kylian and Giselle returned to their, each of them showering before getting dressed ahead of dinner.

When they were ready, they pulled on their coats ready to brave the Swiss winter night as they stepped out into the crisp air, the moon illuminating the snowy landscape around them. The chalet was a stunning backdrop, its wooden beams glowing softly under the twinkling lights strung across the façade. Giselle tucked her arm into Kylian’s as they walked to the awaiting SUV, feeling the warmth radiate from him seeping into her skin.

“Just so you know,” Kylian started, his voice teasing yet sincere, “You look beautiful tonight.”

Giselle blinked, caught off guard by his complement. “Thank you," she replied, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She could feel the warmth of his gaze on her, and it sent a shiver down her spine. It was moments like these that made the chaos of her thoughts fade, even if just for a heartbeat.

The SUV rolled through the snowy streets, music playing softly in the background, and Kylian kept stealing glances at her, the tension between them palpable. The air was thick with unspoken words, charged with an electricity that made her pulse race.

Dinner wan an intimate setting, including herself, Kylian and Brice there were no more than ten people in the opulent restaurant seated along a long table in the centre of the room.

Giselle was not sure if it was purposefully orchestrated, but she had spent the day fitting seamlessly into his life, further confusing her emotions.

By the time dinner came to an end she felt a slight buzz from the wine she had consumed, Giselle's body felt warm even as they stood outside awaiting the arrival of Kylian's driver so they could head back to the chalet for the night.

Giselle let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as she felt Kylian's hand snake around her waist, his warm breaths on her cheek as he pulled her back against his chest.

The drive back to the house was filled with soft giggles as heated whispers as Kylian and Giselle occupied the back seat, leaving Brice to sit up front with the driver.

“When are you coming to see me in Madrid?” Kylian asked, his voice a husky whisper in her ear, making her shiver.

Giselle leaned into him, her heart racing at the sudden intimacy. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted, her words laced with both excitement and trepidation. “It feels like a lot to think about.”

Kylian tightened his grip around her waist, drawing her closer as the car navigated the winding roads of the Swiss countryside. “We can take our time,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I just want to know when I can see you again. I want to make it happen.”

Giselle turned to meet his gaze, her breath hitching at the depth of his focus on her. “You really want that?” she asked, searching for confirmation.

“More than anything,” Kylian replied fervently, his expression vulnerable yet unwavering. “You’ve got under my skin, and I don’t want to let go.”

The simplicity of his desire in that moment flipped a switch in Giselle, even if she wasnt sure what the future held for them when they returned home, but for the night, all she wanted was him.

When they arrived back at the chalet, Giselle allowed Kylian to pull her into their shared bedroom, locking the door behind them.

There was absolutely nothing rushed about Giselle and Kylian’s sex; he held her wrists pinned above her head as he rolled his hips into hers, making sure she felt every ridge and vein that lined his thick shaft.

It wasn't the sex of two individuals purely seeking pleasure; it was the sex of two souls completely lost in one another.

Giselle was so wet her arousal pooled beneath her on the sheets, her essence seeping into the thread count as Kylian took his time, the bulbous head of his cock brushing against her cervix with each slow, drawn-out flex of his hips.

Kylian's eyes rolled back slightly as he savored the tight, wet grip of Giselle's pussy, grunting as he placed his hand on the back of her right thigh and pinned it to the bed.

“Fuck, Giselle... you feel so good on my cock. Kylian groaned, his accent thickening with desire as he slowly pumped his hips, savoring the exquisite sensation of her tight walls gripping him.

Leaning down, he captured her lips passionately as he continued his deliberate pace. His tongue dancing with hers, mimicking the slow, sensual rhythm of their sex. Kylian's free hand roamed her body, caressing her curves and leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

They returned to Paris tomorrow afternoon and shortly after that Kylian was heading back to Madrid to resume his football season.

Uncertainty shrouded them both, but something about tonight felt definitive. He needed to feel her physically and emotionally; he felt the overwhelming urge to consume her.

Giselle let out a cry of pleasure as Kylian hit a particularly deep spot inside of her, invoking an indescribable pleasure combined with a dull ache.

“Baby, you're so deep,” she moaned, her nails digging into his back as she tilted her hips towards his, taking every delicious inch of him.

Kylian's eyes snapped open, a fierce intensity burning within them as he stared down at Giselle. His movements became more purposeful, more deliberate, as he began to pick up the pace. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, punctuated by Giselle's breathy moans and Kylian's guttural grunts.

"Fuck, Giselle," he growled, his accent thickening with each thrust. "You're mine. Tonight, tomorrow. I don't care about the distance or the uncertainty."

His words were punctuated by a particularly deep thrust, causing Giselle to cry out in pleasure. Kylian's hand tightened around her thigh, pulling her leg higher up his waist as he continued to fuck into her.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me you're mine."

Giselle's body trembled beneath Kylian's, her walls clamping down around his throbbing shaft as he filled her completely. Tears of joy and overwhelming emotion pricked at the corners of her eyes. "I'm yours, Kylian," she whispered, her voice trembling with sincerity.

Her words seemed to ignite something primal within Kylian. With a fierce growl, he captured her lips in a feverish kiss, his tongue dominating hers as he continued to drive into her with wild determination. The room filled with the sounds of their passionate tryst, a testament to the deep connection they shared.

As their bodies moved in perfect harmony, Kylian felt a familiar tension building in his lower abdomen. He knew he was close, but he refused to find his release without Giselle.

"Cum with me, Gi," Kylian rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own orgasm. "I want to feel you cum my cock. Give yourself to me."

His words, combined with the relentless rolling of his hips, pushed Giselle over the edge. Her body convulsed beneath him, a strangled cry ripping from her throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her inner core spasmed, gripping Kylian's shaft as she rode out her climax.

Feeling Giselle's release, Kylian finally let himself go. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her and came with a roar. His hot seed spilled into her, marking her as his in the most primal way possible. Their bodies shuddered and twitched together, lost in the midst of passion.

Kylian collapsed onto her, their bodies entwined as they both tried to catch their breath, the aftershocks of their climax rippling through them. Giselle's heart raced, her skin flushed and tingling from the intensity of their shared experience. She felt alive, both vulnerable and empowered in the wake of their union.

Kylian peppered soft kisses along her collarbone, each one igniting her senses anew. “You are incredible,” he murmured against her skin, his voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and adoration. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you here with me.”

Giselle smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she reveled in the moment. “I feel lucky too,” she confessed, still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that had enveloped her throughout the night.

They lay in a comfortable silence for a moment, wrapped up in each other amidst the disarray of sheets and blankets, both savoring the warmth that radiated between them.

But as the contentment settled in, the reality of their situation crept back into her mind like an unwelcome guest. Tomorrow loomed with its uncertainty, and the thought left an ache in her heart.

“What are we going to do?” Giselle finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of her worries threatening to crush the lightness of their earlier moment.

Kylian propped himself up on one elbow, his brow furrowing as he studied her face. “What do you mean?”

Giselle sighed, threading her fingers through her hair as she turned her gaze away from him. “We have to deal with tomorrow. You’ll be in Madrid, and I’ll be back in Los Angeles. What if this... what we have...”

Kylian's expression softened as he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Listen to me, Giselle. This doesn’t change just because the sun rises. It was real, and it mattered.”

[mybworlds]

All gone (the promise)

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: You, after a very long trip alone across the country, arrive in Jackson. Joel is a very lonely man and after Ellie broke up with him, he's even more alone and grumpy. Tommy and Maria decide that you're going to stay at Joel's house for a while, at least until more houses are built. Will your cohabitation be easy? Or will it be more complicated than everyone thinks?

Warnings: use of you, use of alcohol, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, suicidal attempt, a short story about sexual assault that occurred in the past I won't go into details, another SA in the present days, violence, blood, lots of sexually explicit content, use of petnames, dirty talk, fluff elements, mutual pining, the main characters spy on each other for a while, the image of the female character has the sole purpose of representing the character, but you can imagine her however you want, no physical description of the female character except for long hair often gathered in a ponytail or braid, she wears a bra and jeans (most of the time).

Extra warnings for this chapter: spoilers about the TLOU2.

I hope I haven't offended anyone's sensibilities if I've made certain personal choices.

I chose this title because if you know you know.

Masterlist

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

Joel sees you almost collapse on him, your head completely abandoned on his chest. He closes his eyes savoring that completely new contact between you.

He likes it.

He didn't think he would appreciate such contact with you.

He caresses your back and your hair gently, you press yourself even more against him if possible and he thinks that, despite everything, he fell for it again. He feels stupid, he had promised himself he would never warm up to someone again because then things always ended up falling apart and he was destroyed. And instead life brought him someone else.

He sighs, staring at the ceiling, and then he looks at you. You look so peaceful, he wants to caress your face, but he doesn't have the courage.

You're beautiful.

He gently moves away from you and then covers you with a couple of thick blankets. Although he's not completely sober, he decides to make himself a coffee.

It's the first time in a long time that he decides not to remain in a state of drunkenness, but to regain control of his thoughts and himself.

He feels so confused and at the same time filled with a feeling similar to happiness and excitement. It's a good feeling that is spreading in his chest.

He doesn't know why he kissed you or why you did it, what feeling confused your mind. Or maybe it was just the alcohol.

He smiles. Despite the events of the evening, he smiles. And that's not something that happens often anymore.

Coffee helps him recover from the alcohol that dulls his mind. When he regains almost full control of his actions, he goes upstairs and goes to his room full of animal carvings, guitars, sheet music and thinks back to when he taught Ellie to play the guitar. He felt good and experienced a sensation very similar to peace.

He touches the guitar and finds himself smiling before picking it up and going out onto the porch to play a little.

When he's fully in control of his actions again, Joel begins to strum. The music that comes out has that right rhythm so much so that Joel finds himself moving his head and a leg in time. Then, a movement and a noise catches his attention. It's Ellie.

“Hey.” he greets her with a husky voice. Ellie approaches him almost hesitantly, approaching the porch railing. Joel reaches her, putting his guitar aside and bringing it up to her side holding his cup in his hands. He approaches her hesitantly as if afraid to say or do too much.

“What are you drinking?” she asks just looking at his face.

“Coffee.” he answers looking straight ahead.

She looks at him sideways and nods, “Where’d you get that?”

“Um, those people that came through last week.” he answers “It’s not bad.” he adds sipping his coffee.

For a while neither of them says anything, there is only the silence of the night as a backdrop to their conversation.

“I had Seth under control.” she whispers.

“Yeah, I know." he replies in a low voice.

“And you need to stop harrassing Jesse about my patrols.” the girl scolds him in a low voice.

He lowers his head and just nods, “Okay.”

He suddenly realizes that she is no longer the little girl with whom he crossed half the country, she is a woman and has the right to be treated as such.

“Dina,” Ellie freezes in place “is she your girlfriend?”

Ellie starts to get agitated as if embarrassed and Joel would like to hug her more than ever and tell her that there’s nothing wrong if she likes her, but Ellie denies, “That was just one kiss. It does mean anything. She... I don’t know why she did.” then turning her head away as if to hide her embarrassment.

“You do like her.” Joel states and the long silence that follows is a silent confirmation for the man “Look, I have no idea what that girl’s intentions are, but... I do know she would be lucky to have you.” he says.

Ellie stiffens again, “You're such an asshole.”

“I’m not trying to…” he wants to clear things up with her right away. He doesn't want to regain her trust by telling her this.

“I was supposed to die in that hospital. My life would’ve fucking mattered. But you took that from me.”

Joel remembers that day very well, the things he did, how many lives he took just to save the life of the only person he had learned to love like a daughter. He had never regretted his choice and if he could, he would do it again. Exactly all over again.

“If somehow the Lord gave me a second chance at that moment... I would do it all over again.” Ellie certainly didn’t expect to hear these words from him. In fact, her expression becomes that of someone who is absorbing the words she has just heard.

“I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.” she says giving Joel another beating “But I would like to try.” she adds almost trembling.

Joel couldn't ask for anything more than another chance with her!

“I‘d like that.” he tells really hoping so.

“Okay. I'll see you around.” she says.

“Yep.” so, there is a faint hope and he can only really hope and commit himself to making things better between them. Joel hints at a smile even though Ellie has already turned her back on him.

The next day you feel completely upset, you have blankets over you and you still smell Joel's strong scent in your nostrils. You are still wearing Dina's dress which has now almost completely ridden up exposing your legs and thighs. You adjust yourself by sitting back down and thinking about the previous night.

From what you remember, you exchanged more than one kiss and you touched each other, not in that way, but you touched each other nonetheless.

You talked. A lot. Even if you don't completely remember everything he said to you or the things you said to him.

He's not here, but maybe it's for the best. You wouldn't know what to say. Or how to look at him. You just know that you would probably feel embarrassed or almost certainly just avoid his gaze or his mere presence.

You look out the window, it's snowing heavily. It's very cold.

You shrug and make yourself some hot tea as you think about what happened last night. You close your eyes and sigh. You remember the strange intimacy that was created. It gave you such a strange hot cold feeling. You don't even know how to describe what you experienced.

Since you left the Boston QZ, you’ve been alone. Or rather, almost always alone. You avoided people as much as possible, well aware that no one is the same as before. Neither do you.

You close the fire and pour your tea. Its warmth is so pleasant that you warm up in no time. As you recover from sleep, you remember that you have to go on a patrol today too, so you go upstairs to get dressed. You quickly put on a sweater, jeans and then a coat, hat, gloves, bow and arrows. Then, you hide in your boots a dagger that you have been wearing since you began to run away and wander from one place to another.

You know you're going to meet Joel. You wonder how you should behave, you wonder if you should pretend that nothing happened or if you should tell him something. What you remember from last night is a bit hazy and almost seems like it happened in a dream, to tell the truth you're not even entirely sure if you kissed him or if he touched you or if you just dreamed it.

You think it's been a long time since you felt this safe in someone's arms knowing he wouldn't hurt you. It certainly won't happen again, but it was nice to feel protected and, even if only for a moment, to feel that unknown warmth that warms your heart.

Your thoughts go to Ralph, oh how you liked him! The way he smiled at you, the way he hugged you, it seemed to you that there was nothing wrong in what he did or said, then that night changed everything and you understood who he really was. You thought he was your Prince Charming, but that nighttime he revealed who he really was.

You had another experience after that and immediately your thoughts go to that young man with whom you ran away for a while, what you experienced, what you saw, but.. that's another story.

Your mind wanders back to Joel and the night before, and you find yourself thinking that whatever happened was just the alcohol's fault. There’s nothing between you and there never will be.

You sigh sadly and then leave the house and go to Tipsy Bison to look for Dina or Jesse, but when you are there you only find old Seth intent on taking down the lights from the party the night before and railing against the arrogant young people.

You approach him greeting him and asking him if he had seen your two friends, he mumbles a sort of greeting and then tells you that they went out on patrol at the first light of dawn.

"And Joel?" you dare ask him.

“That cheap drunken piece of shit!” he spits "He and his brother are also patrolling. I hope an avalanche hits him!" you don't comment on this last sentence, you turn your back to him and reach out Jackson's stables.

The horse you have ridden before is here, you take the bridle and take it out, then after having placed your backpack you get on the saddle and leave.

There is a storm going on so the horse is having a hard time moving forward, you feel a sudden disturbing foreboding. You hope Joel and Tommy have taken refuge somewhere. Who knows where Jesse and Dina are!

Maybe you shouldn't have ventured out alone, not that it scares you, in short you've come a long way alone so it's fine. You don't even know why you rushed out there: Dina and Jesse are sometimes rushed, but prepared. Joel and Tommy are two grown men who sure they can manage just fine without you.

However, the further the horse advances, the more an incomprehensible anxiety grows within you.

In the distance you hear the screams of infected people, they are close. You gulp. Your heart rate increases. Your senses are on high alert and you are ready to take up your bow and arrow. Then, you see them all crowded together against a net. The horse gets angry and is about to turn back, but you stop it.

A couple of them notice you and run towards you and try to pull you down, but you manage to push one away with a kick to the face and another receives a kick from the horse's hooves.

You tighten the reins and look around, other infected are approaching, you quickly look around "JOEL?! TOMMY?!" you call them, but you still only hear the screams of the infected and a few moments later an explosion.

The horse gets crazy, but luckily you manage to hold on to the bridle and avoid falling. You give a thrust of your spurs and manage to free yourself from the infected that were surrounding you.

While the horse laboriously advances through the snow and towards an unspecified destination, all of a sudden, you notice a house with a pitched roof. It's on Joel and Tommy's path, maybe they're there. At first glance it seems like a place like any other, but what strikes you is the closed gate in front, full of infected that are burning. Joel and Tommy never had bombs or anything like that or anyone in Jackson, so it can't have been them, but that house is on their path and there are too many infected.

Something’s wrong!

When you are close enough, you hear the shot of a gun and that's when your senses become fully alert. The Millers may be in danger!

You leave the horse at such a distance that no one sees you, nor raiders nor the infected. You move quickly being careful not to attract too much attention and then you approach the wall that separates the house from the path and climb over it with some difficulty.

As soon as you step onto the ground, you hear a voice shout “OVER THERE!” you barely have time to look up and hide before at least a dozen bullets are fired your way.

“AND NOW WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?!” a second voice blurts out.

“You just shoot!” you hear the first voice say.

You crouch and then move to the left, take off your bow and nock an arrow, then aim in a flash and shoot.

You hide, you hear that you hit him because the other voice exclaims “YOU SON OF A BITCH! NOW YOU’LL GET YOURS!!!”

You take another arrow and then you stand up and shoot, the other one also shoots. Your arrow hits him right in the eye, killing him instantly, but his shot wounds you in the shoulder.

You grit your teeth and, making sure there's no one else out there, you enter. The house is abandoned, or so it seems. For a moment you think that those two guys were alone, and you are about to leave, then a scream of pain stops you.

You listen, no it can't be the guy outside. That groan of pain comes from inside, perhaps someone else is injured and therefore took refuge here. You move forward and hear yet another grunt and then voices.

What the fuck.

“Go look.” you hear a voice again, it comes from what appears to be a cellar.

You crouch next to some stairs that go down, the door opens and three more men locked and loaded appear. You nock one arrow after another and shoot. Not a single one is missing. The three guys fall lifeless on the stairs.

“ABBY, WE HAVE TO GO! END IT NOW!” you hear yet another voice and then a desperate voice “Please, don't...”

You go down at breakneck speed recognizing Ellie's voice. When you open the door, you find what you never expected. Three of your people are on the ground and at least six people standing towering over them.

Your arrival seems to have charged the air with a terrifying electricity. Nobody moves. Your bow is drawn and your arrow ready to be shot, “Let ‘em go.” you command, “Or you are dead.”

“You're at a disadvantage, little girl.” says one who approaches you “We don't want to hurt you or your friend or the other one. We just want him.”

Your eyes run first to Ellie who has a split lip and a desperate expression, to Tommy who is unconscious and then to Joel.

The air feels like it's been sucked out of your lungs and out of the room.

Joel is almost an unrecognizable mask of blood, in fact for a moment you think it's not even him. For a moment you think the guy is making fun of you, but then you recognize his build, his hair. He's lying on his side, his hand full of blood abandoned next to his swollen face covered in living blood.

“Let him go!” you hiss turning to a young woman with an angry and grim face, she's big and has a golf club full of blood in her hands.

“No!” she exclaims, raising her club again, and then your arrow is fired and pierces her wrist. She lets go with a scream the improvised weapon, bringing her other hand to the wrist and bending over on herself.

She’s joined by another girl, while you are immediately attacked by two others who make you lose your bow and make you fall to the ground.

You don't even know how hard you kick and escape the grasp of one of the two and with one movement you take out the knife you've always kept hidden in your boots and hit him in the jugular. The blood gushes profusely, dirtying your face and the hand with which you hold the knife.

“NO!” the two women scream in despair “You damn whore!” sobs Joel's attacker gritting her teeth in pain and anger.

You quickly pull out the knife, freeing yourself from the man's weight, and get on your knees. Two more guys try to hit you, but you avoid their shots and hit a second one, stabbing him in the wrist and pinning him against the wall. You grab his gun and shoot, freeing Ellie.

Only the two women remained, the girl you hit now has a sleeve full of blood “Go away.” you threaten by pointing the gun at them.

“I'm not finished here yet. I'm not leaving,” the woman who was hitting Joel says through gritted teeth, “You, Mel, go.”

“But...” the other you don't know who she is, but you honestly don't care “I stay.”

“Don't be stupid,” she hisses through her teeth.

“What should I do?! I'm not like you.” you see the other tremble.

“You won't do anything. You are a good person. Think about your child now.” you hear the first one say.

“Come with me, please.” She begs the other girl. Abby shakes her head, her eyes narrowed with a serious expression.

The girl with the short hair runs away, the other with a big braid and looking strong as a bull glares at you as if she's memorizing your features, “You are not my target!”

“I know, but I can't let you kill him!” you hiss, holding the gun out towards the woman.

“He's a murderer and today he will die,” having said this she takes the golf club again and is about to hit him, when Ellie throws herself at her with all her strength.

You see the two fighting so fiercely that you don't know how to help Ellie who is succumbing to the punches and powerful slaps of the other girl.

“Let her go!” you scream throwing yourself on Abby pulling her hair and scratching her everywhere.

The girl lets go of Ellie, but to free herself from your grip, she goes backwards, making you crash violently into the wall behind you, once, twice, three times. You let go and slide to the ground, ending up underneath her.

The blows she inflicts on you are so heavy and violent that they almost make you faint. You taste blood in your mouth and maybe it's dripping from your nose or maybe from your cheekbone, you don't know. Your vision is completely blurred when a gunshot echoes through the room. Abby stops and almost looks surprised before looking down at her chest. The shirt quickly gets soaked in blood and falls on you, making you almost scream in pain.

You can't see anything. You struggle to move the woman's lifeless body. Ellie helps you, grunting with effort. You take a deep breath and then roll onto your side and try to regain some control.

“Joel,” Ellie moans reaching him, while you catch your breath “Joel,” the girl sobs, you can see her wanting to touch his face, but she doesn't even know where so much his face is swollen and bleeding.

“Ellie,” you gasp, crawling and reaching it with difficulty and then grabbing her shoulders, “lemme see.” you say, looking at him. Last night you caressed his cheek and his hair and he smiled at you and you kissed, you remember this well, now he doesn't move and he lies abandoned on his side.

“Joel,” you murmur breathlessly, fearing that he's dead and that you will never be able to hear his voice again.

Joel lets out a long moan of pain, his lips tremble, blood flows from his mouth as he tries to say something, he doesn't open his eyes, he murmurs first Ellie's name and then yours, you place your hand on his “I'm here, Ellie is fine, don't worry. Now I'm going to call for help.”

Joel mutters your name again “Take care of Ellie for me,” a deep anguish spreads through you, suddenly it's as if you've gone under the ice hearing those words of his.

“Joel, you will live. Hang on.”

Moments later, you and Ellie hear more noises. You both reach out for your weapons fearing that the escaped girl may have called for reinforcements, but shortly afterwards Dina, Jesse, Vasquez, Fraser and Smith appear at the top of the stair.

"We need help!" you shout. The little group rushes in and they see the disaster that has happened down there in that room.

Joel has been in that room used as an operating room for hours. He needed various transfusions, you also offered to give him your blood, but the doctor told you no as you have already lost a lot of blood.

You, Ellie, Dina, Jesse don't leave the makeshift hospital even for a moment. Tommy wanted to do the same, but Maria and the doctor ordered him to rest and above all to avoid standing for many hours. He recommended it to you too, but after the first two attempts he gave up.

Your wounds have been dressed and your shoulder bandaged. You washed your hand as best as you could, but nevertheless your hands remain reddish.

Ellie looks contrite, her eyes clouded with tears, she sniffs trying to act strong, but she's giving in. Her face is swollen as if she's been slapped and you imagine your face isn't too different from hers.

You approach, sitting next to her, you're not sure where to start. You want to be encouraging, tell her that everything will be fine and that he will survive, but the truth is, you don't know either. You don't want to delude yourself or give vain hopes to a girl who is probably even worse off than you. You just clasp your hands convulsively and wait in silence.

His last words echo inside you, making you gasp for air.

He can't die.

You bite your bottom lip feeling a sudden sour sensation in the pit of your stomach. You close your eyes while breathing deeply. Your head is spinning.

You promised yourself never to get attached again, to live only for yourself, but instead.

You failed.

You also care about another person and with the result of feeling bad and fragile for him.

Fifty.

Fourty nine.

Fourty eight.

Forty seven.

Fourty six.

Forty five.

The air around you has become unbreathable. You want to scream for help, but you don't want others to know how you feel. A gasp escapes your lips and you place your hands on your knees trying to breathe deeply.

Forty four.

Fortythree.

Forty-two.

Fourty one.

Forty.

“You okay?”

You gasp, “Huh? Yes. . .” you moan, hearing your own voice come out strangled. You don't look at Ellie, if you look at the girl's face you know you would completely explode. The last time Joel held you close and reassured you, he gave you the strength not to suffocate.

Thirty-nine.

Thirty-eight.

Thirtyseven.

Thirtysix.

Thirtyfive.

You feel your hands shaking. There is a lot of coming and going from the room used as an operating theatre, you hear the sound of the monitors, the close beeps. Your heart does somersaults with fear.

He can't die. He must survive.

You have never believed nor will you today, but if there is Someone, let this Someone have mercy on him and spare him.

Thirty four.

Thirty three.

Thirty two.

Thirty-one.

The doctor comes out of the operating room, you struggle to get up, not least because of the tiredness, but because of everything you are feeling, but also because of the terror, the anguish.

“He's alive, but he lost a lot of blood. We have to wait for him to wake up, but I'm confident he will wake up soon. His recovery will be long and painful. The important thing is that you never leave him alone and has maximum rest.”

Ellie nods, “Okay. Thanks.” she gives you a quick glance before hugging Dina and Jesse, Fraser later says, “I'm going to tell Tommy.”

You're about to collapse and you would have if Jesse hadn't hugged you and lifted you in mid-air making you giggle for the first time that day and feel light as a feather.

“If you hadn't found ‘em in time…” he says, as you rest your head on his shoulder.

You try to hold back the sobs that shake your chest. You breathe deeply, burying your head in Jesse's neck.

You want to see him.

You need to.

You don't even know where this need comes from considering how he treated you since you've been in Jackson.

You release your grip from the boy to turn to the doctor, “Can we see him?”

“In a little while we'll move him to the post-operative room and you can do it from behind the glass.” the man informs you.

You nod before to notice a movement beyond the doors. You don't have a hard time understanding that they're moving Joel.

You and Ellie follow the movement as best you can from the other side of the corridor and then find yourself in front of a glass and there you see him: he is connected to some machines, a ventilator and is still receiving a transfusion.

Your heart sinks, Ellie places a hand on the glass. You don't know what expression she has, but you're sure it's identical to yours.

Now that Joel's face is clean of blood, you notice how the features of his face have been disfigured and distorted. His cheekbones are puffy and black, his eyelids are closed but they are so swollen they look like two tennis balls, his lips are split in several places, on the cheeks there are numerous cuts, some more subtle and others evident and deep.

The face of the man you caressed and kissed last night is no longer there.

“Joel,” you sob under your breath before you realize it.

Ellie looks up at you, she squeezes your hand tightly, “He'll make it. We have to believe that he will. He'll wake up,” she says, looking back at the man.

You're cold, you should take a painkiller. It's been several hours since you took it. You breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, it hurts, but you don't want to leave Joel.

Ellie was practically dragged away by Dina to eat. They tried to do the same to you, but you fought back with all your strenght and the result was that you got a sandwich there.

You think about when Joel made you tea, when he brought you food, when he held you close in the throes of that panic attack. It's true he was an asshole and he didn't always treat you well, in fact on several occasions he made you feel like an intruder, but what's the point of thinking about it now? He's now in that bed, still intubated. The third transfusion is now nearing the end. He's sick.

You are so tired. You need a break. A break where you can relax, not be afraid for yourself or for those who, willingly or unwillingly, have entered your heart. Even if on tiptoe.

You fall asleep immediately on one of those chairs in that makeshift hospital. You dream of being in Joel's arms again, you dream of dancing to Pearl Jam in his living room, you smile at each other and he has such a warm smile. How stupid and sometimes so trivial dreams are, but how comforting they can be!

You wake up with a start hearing a distant insistent noise coming from a monitor, you barely have time to sit up when you see a doctor and two nurses surrounding Joel. The monitor says there is no heartbeat, you jump up placing your palms against the glass, as you see the doctor performing cardiac massage and injecting him something. That noise from the monitor almost seems to pierce your ears.

Fuck.

No, Joel.

Please, fight.

Don't give up, you find yourself praying.

You don't know what drug they injected, you just see the doctor shaking his head and looking first at Joel and then at the monitor. You see him shake his head again.

No.

No, please, don't give up.

Please.

[vadersangel]

Skittles and Ghosts - Roman Godfrey x Reader - Chapter 1

Synopsis: A colorful happy go lucky girl comes to disrupt the life of the brooding school heart-throb Roman Godfrey. With her kindness and bluntness, she crept into his heart. But in the small town of Hemlock Grove, something eerie is about to happen; when Brooke Bluebell dies on school grounds, Roman, Peter and the new girl form an unlikely bond to unveil what really happened. A love story flourishes amidst the chaos raised by a vengeful ghost.

Genre: humor, fluff, smut (later chapters), horror, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn.

Trigger Warnings: blood, drugs, alcohol, death, sex, foul language.

Word count: 1460

Special thanks to @kingkat12 , @mentallyscreamingsincebirth , @carmillavalentine and @peachesinto —you inspired me in many ways, and I’m glad our paths have crossed. 💕

( @roman-godfrey , such an inspiring character! Mwah! )

I still need a proofreader... Also, it starts from Roman's pov, then switches to reader's pov.

⊹ ₊  ⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡˚₊‧⁺ ₊ ⊹

There’s a rainbow in Pandora's Box. Isn’t that the worst kind of chaos to be unleashed?

⊹ ₊  ⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡˚₊‧⁺ ₊ ⊹

Not that any of my days were exactly peaceful, but that day in particular seemed uneventful. Miraculously I woke up and Olivia was not hovering over me. That alone was a relief! I made breakfast for Shelley and I, because mommy dearest never tended to us, and couldn’t be bothered to hire someone. Buying another Birkin was more important than having her children taken care of, I guess. Shelley seemed happy… That was all that mattered. In fact, there were only four people in the world I cared about: Shelley, Peter, Letha, and myself. The rest of the world could be set on fire for all I cared! Other people be damned!

I drove us to school, and then went to find Peter at our usual spot. It was the first day of school after summer break, everyone around us seemed thrilled, and needless to say I found the whole ordeal burdensome to say the least. I lit up a cigarette and took a drag, inhaling deeply, allowing the smoke to fill my lungs… Would it help me die sooner? I hoped so. It was soothing. Peter was talking some nonsense and I wasn’t paying much attention, but I laughed anyway. Little did I know those were my last few moments of harmony, before the whole world collapsed under the abnormally tiny feet of none other than the devil’s spawn… There she was, like a walking box of crayons, as if someone had thrown up skittles all over her; she was wearing a yellow tank top, a pink skirt, red Converse sneakers, and a baby-blue cardigan over her shoulders. Each of her nails was painted with a different color and I’m pretty sure there was also glitter on top. Ironically, her makeup was soft, she wasn’t wearing anything too bright on her face… I realized how weird it was that I was paying so much attention to a girl’s outfit and makeup. I frowned, deep in my thoughts, and that was when the little cursed gremlin had the nerve to smile at me! Smile, mind you, with all her 385 teeth exposed, as if something on my face had amused her. Great! I must look like a clown!

Hell is a color explosion on two legs. I was sure of it. And she walked all over me with those bloody red Converse sneakers, crushing my hopes of normalcy. Of course she would be in my class… Every weird freak in Hemlock High was in my class. To my dismay, the teacher pointed her to the seat next to mine. I almost threw up. I caught myself staring at her face because, I swear, she had glitter all over her cheeks. My face was pure horror, but somehow she misread it, because she smiled again. So polite… I hate polite people! You can’t fool me, you little phony!

-*-

I would have to be an unlucky motherfucker to be paired up with the brand new colorful stroke for the Literature assignment. But again, of course that would be my fate. So now, after being dragged down to the library through the school hallways, I was sitting across this unhinged pastel color psycho. She was on and on about her seven thousand different ideas, making my head hurt. I pinched the bridge of my nose trying to gather my thoughts, but her chime-like voice was too disruptive. I need a smoke!

“Aw, don’t be upset! We’re gonna finish this in no time! It’s easy! You could come over to my place after school, we can have chocolate cake and finish this.” Again, that wide off-putting smile that made me sick. How many teeth does she have?

I rolled my eyes, leaned in closer to her, looking into those ridiculously big eyes, as I said: “Read my lips: we are not friends!”

She tilted her head like a kitten, narrowing her eyes for a brief second, and then, those marbles lit up like the Eiffel Tower as she averted her gaze to her backpack. She was looking for something and I had an inkling it would be bad. I flinched. She grabbed a sticker sheet, of all things, pinched a small purple sparkly star and glued it to my cheek! My stomach churned. I was dumbfounded, speechless at her cluelessness, and possibly traumatized.

She stood up as if nothing had happened, gathered her belongings, and headed towards the library’s door. But as she was about to leave, she turned on her heels and spoke cheerfully: 

“See you at 7?” 

It wasn’t a question. She was pretty positive that I would indulge in her nightmarish ideas.

Before I had time to utter the words ‘no way in hell’, the Beelzebub’s baby left.

-*-

Of course I didn’t go to her house! 

I would rather run a cheese grater over my skin than spend even five minutes with that girl! But when befriending me proved to be a dead end, she befriended Peter–the traitor! With that sly face, she occupied my smoking spot, with my best friend. The jerk was laughing at something she was saying in that annoying high-pitched voice. I wanted to smash something, but I was not about to give her the satisfaction. So I walked over to them, greeting Peter and blatantly ignoring her. But the girl can’t seem to take a hint; she nudged me to call my attention as I lit up my cigarette. I puffed smoke right on her face as I looked down at her, trying to convey the extent of my disgust, to no avail. She coughed, to my amusement, but the solace I found in her suffering didn’t last long… Smiling at me, in a way that made me feel nauseous, she began to talk to me… Something about dinosaurs… By the way Peter was laughing, I’m pretty sure the look on my face was priceless. Double homicide suddenly seemed like a valid option. My brain was chanting for her to just disappear already!

How could someone gesticulate so much–and be so flamboyant–was the question that echoed in my head as the three of us walked towards Math class. She wouldn't shut up about the damned dinosaurs. Forget double homicide, I will just disappear; being kidnapped can’t possibly be this bad. 

I begged, literally begged, Peter to ditch the next class with me. I needed a joint to ease the headache induced by the satan’s intern fashion choices.

As Peter rolled me a doobie, I lit another cigarette,

“What’s up with you and the human highlighter?” I asked, nonchalantly and Peter frowned at me. He bit the insides of his cheeks, scanning my face, as if trying to psychoanalyze me. 

“She’s ok… I guess? Why?” He responded after a few seconds, shrugging as he lit up the blunt, then puffed the smoke in circles. But his eyes still held that weird hint of something I couldn’t really pinpoint, but somehow I knew he was having fun with this.

“No reason…” My answer ended the conversation about the subject.

-*-

“Hey, sunshine, did you buy your clothes at the flea market?”

I didn’t have to look to know who was talking to whom. That poor excuse of a dumbfuck, Ryan, was taunting the walking Skittles. His tone got to my bloodstream, making it seethe. He was voicing my opinions in a way, but I abhorred the guy even more than I loathed her. Involuntarily, my hands clenched into fists as I turned to face Ryan. I caught a glimpse of her, and it was more than enough for me to realize that she was about to cry. It made me unreasonably angrier. Peter’s eyes darted from me, to Ryan, to Skittles, and back to me.

“Hey, dipshit,” my voice was calculated. I closed the distance between me and them in two long strides. “Start apologizing.”

Ryan and his posse began to laugh, but their amusement didn’t last when I towered over them, my mouth turning into a wide grin as his eyes widened. I looked deep into his eyes and my next words were not a polite request:

“Kneel down and kiss her feet.”

Everyone around gasped as he did just as he was told, kneeling down in front of her and leaning in to kiss her shoes. His friends howled, not believing their eyes.

“Now, fuck off!” I barked, and again, they did as they were told.

I was pretty satisfied with the outcome, until I felt that familiar warmth dripping from my nose…

“You are bleeding!” She squealed. In seconds, she had a pink handkerchief pressed against my nose. Her flowery, fruity scent invaded my nostrils like a wrecking ball. Her eyes were wide in worry, her mouth agape in sheer horror.

Now she thinks I’m her friend.  Shee-it…