#to make your life easier. I’ll always tag the posts

[thelaughingmagician]

.

[sayyestoheav3nn]

You, Again: Part 1/2

Roman x black!oc

Warnings: fluff, angst, short mention of abortion, emotional/verbal abuse

Word Count: 3k

a/n: thanks for your patience, it really means a lot 🥹 I hope this isn't a disappointment. still working on part five of nights like this, most likely won't be posted till monday. click here if you would like to be tagged in part two.

Sky spent hours in her room crying into her pillow. She was sick and tired of this constant fucked up routine.

Her mother’s disdain for her progressively grew worse day by day. For as long as she could remember, that woman did everything in her power to make sure she understood that her biggest mistake in life, would always be the day she chose not to abort her.

It was starting to become a nightly occurrence of her drunkenly barging into her room just to belittle and scream at her. 

Her mother’s hatred for her grew immensely as the years went on, to the point where she would find absolutely any reason to take her frustrations out on her.

This included breaking any and everything she could get ahold of in Sky’s room.

Sky knew any attempt to defend herself would only make the situation ten times worse, so she just stayed quiet and accepted it.

Sky could tell she wanted a reaction out of her, which is exactly why she refused to give it.

Maybe life would have been a tad bit easier, if her sister would’ve had her back during these repetitive toxic situations she was forced into. 

But no, her one and only sibling turned out to be an even more evil and vindictive bitch. 

Eva was four years older than her, and it was absolutely no secret that her older sister despised her.

Sky spent many years hoping she would eventually be able to build a relationship with her big sister. 

Unfortunately, she couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Sky remembers that night like it was yesterday. The night where Eva went to the bathroom and her creepy boyfriend tried to make multiple passes at her.

The fact that he knew she was underaged and still chose to hit on her, disgusted Sky to another level. She quickly rejected his creepy insinuations, trying her best to ignore him. 

As soon as Eva stepped out of the bathroom, Sky wasted no time in telling her exactly what happened, not giving two fucks about the fact he was still standing there.

Her boyfriend immediately interjected, saying that Sky was the one who was hitting on him, he painted a story about how she’d been making him uncomfortable for the longest of time whenever Eva wasn’t around.

She remembered the exact lies he spewed, “Baby you know how jealous she’s always been of you, don’t tell me you believe this crazy bitch! Why would I ever do that to you? Let alone in your own house!”

To her surprise Eva looked at Sky like she was fucking insane, Sky could see her sisters anger rising.

“Eva, please don’t tell me you believe him over me…” Sky’s voice cracked as tears started to form in her eyes.

Eva pushed Sky against the wall with all the force she had, causing the back of Sky’s head to slightly start bleeding. 

“If you ever even think to go near him again, I’ll fucking kill you,” Eva sneered.

In that exact moment Sky whole heartedly accepted the fact that she was truly alone, with absolutely no one by her side. 

And just when she had fully given up hope on continuing to live this shitty life, with her even shittier family, she met Joe. 

Joe was a boy who made her whole entire world shift. 

He was her new neighbor, who in a short time of getting to know, became her favorite person. 

As years passed they grew even closer, she was his best friend, and he was hers. 

He was truly a light in her dark world, and there wasn’t a damn thing she’d do to change that.

……….

After another night of the same bullshit fight caused by her drunken mom, Sky carefully stumbled out of her bedroom window making her way across the wet grass that was now starting to soak her fuzzy slippers. Her phone was dead, so she had no choice but to rely on the natural moonlight to illuminate the short path leading her next door.

She lightly tapped on Joe’s window, hoping not to startle him.

Shortly after, he carefully slid his window open. His eyes were low and sunken, a sleepy smile formed on his face.

“Come in.” Joe helped Sky climb in, which basically consisted of him doing all the work in picking her up.

“Shit, sorry for waking you up Joe,” she whispered.

“Sky, how many times have I told you? Never apologize for that shit,” his voice was low.

Joe knew that she had issues with her family, but Sky made sure to never tell him how bad it really was. She knew him well, his hot headed ass would confront them with no hesitation, but that would only end up making things worse for her. 

If Sky’s mom found out about him, she’d forbid her from ever seeing him again.

And that’s something that Sky simply would not allow, so choosing to keep him in the dark, in her eyes was the right choice.

Joe pulled his covers back leaving Sky’s preferred side easier for her to get in.

His bedroom became a safe space for her, it was starting to become a habit for Sky to spend her nights sleeping there. For some odd reason the smell of his sheets gave her a sense of comfort, his cologne scent became soothing to her.

They both laid down on their backs, with their gazes focused on the ceiling. 

Joe was always respectful, making sure he left a small space in between them.

“You wanna talk about it?” He whispered.

“Thanks, but not really,” she sighed.

Joe could hear the sadness in her tone, he knew she was holding something in, but he didn’t want to push her. He believed she’d open up when she felt comfortable enough, so he respected that.

“That’s okay….but know you can tell me anything, Sky.”

She turned her body to face him, “I’m going to tell you something, but promise me you won’t get upset,” she muttered.

Just as Joe was deep in his thoughts admiring Sky’s beauty, beauty in which he was convinced everyone saw except her, her light angelic voice instantly snapped him out of it. “Talk to me, we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be my last night sleeping here…”

Joe quickly sat up on the bed, with his eyebrows furrowed. Sky could feel his gaze locked in on her. “Why?”

“Joe I know we’re just friends and that we’ve always had boundaries, but you have a girlfriend. It…it just seems disrespectful to keep sleeping here knowing that,” she muttered.

Joe paused in silence for what felt like forever. Sky was starting to get anxious, because the last thing she needed was to cause problems or a rift between them. As regret started to seep in, she decided to try and smooth the situation over.

“It’s just—”

“We’re not together anymore,” his voice was low.

Confusion, that’s exactly what Sky was feeling. This was the last thing she was expecting him to say.

“W—Why didn’t you say anything? What happened?”

“She didn’t like me being friends with you, so she gave me an ultimatum… to choose between you or her.” 

At that Sky stood up, her anxiety causing her to pace the room while so much guilt began to weigh her mind. She felt so fucking bad, knowing that her friendship ended his relationship which was the exact thing she was trying to avoid. 

She swallowed down her emotions as best as she could, which worked to no prevail because she instantly felt warm tears begin to slide down her face. “Joe I-I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t….you shouldn’t have chosen me.”

Joe instinctively walked towards her now seeing that she was crying, he gently grabbed her chin forcing her gaze on his. 

“Sky, there’s no reason to be sorry. It was the easiest choice I’ve ever fucking made.’’

“I—It’s my fault Joe…. I shouldn’t have put you in this situation,” she sniffled. 

“Look at me,” his voice was assertive but still gentle, Sky’s glossy eyes met his.

“The ultimatum wasn’t the only reason I ended things with her, Sky.” 

“Joe, w—what do you mean? I’m confused…..”

He moved some of her hair behind her ears, the way his eyes were glued to her lips gave her butterflies. “I….don’t want to just be friends anymore.”

Sky could feel her heart beating out of her fucking chest. Sure she believed they were close, but in no world did she ever think he thought of her that way. Joe carefully studied her facial expressions, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

“I—”

Before she could speak Joe interrupted. “I’ve always liked you Sky, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, inside and out. I enjoy every moment I spend with you. With that being said… I understand if you don’t feel the same way, my intention isn’t to make you uncomfortable. But, I just needed you to—

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“I want you to kiss me, Joe.” 

Just as he was beginning to lean in, she slightly hesitated while slowly pulling back.

“I’ve.. I’ve never…” Sky was too embarrassed to finish her sentence.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?”

She shook her head no, her gaze now shifted to the floor. 

Joe lightly brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Sky, it’s just me. I got you, I promise.”

Once she silently gave him the approval, Joe gently pressed his lips against hers, starting off slow letting her get used to the feeling. Her lips were so fucking full and soft, it was going to be a challenge for him to contain himself.

Once Joe could feel her growing comfortable, he began to deepen their kiss. Sky could feel her arousal intensify as the kiss went from soft and slow to something more needy and sensual.  

Without a second thought, he picked her up by her ass, hoisting her on his hips. 

Sky wrapped her legs around him, while doing the same with her arms around his neck. Joe carried her back towards his bed, laying her down gently, while pulling her closer towards him.

To his surprise Sky climbed on top, straddling and kissing him. Joe sat up with his back resting on the headboard, a light moan escaped him when she slid her fingers behind his head, lightly scratching at his scalp.

He slightly pulled away, biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes entranced by that beautiful face of hers. “You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.”

“Me too,” she grinned.

Time passed, and Joe had no idea how long they spent kissing. It’s almost as if time didn’t exist when she was around him.

They eventually had to stop, Joe refused to get ahead of himself, making sure to prioritize taking things slow with her.

Just as they were about to sleep, Joe got up and walked to his drawer pulling out something plastic, it was too dark for her to tell.

“Shit, I almost forgot.” 

“What is it?”

Joe handed her the light plastic item. “I know you forget to bring it sometimes, so I bought you one to leave here.”

Once Sky shined her phone light on it, a smile formed on her face.

A bonnet. 

Joe went out of his way to buy her a bonnet.

Something so simple, yet so fucking thoughtful made her eyes water “Thank you Joe.” 

She immediately pulled it out the package, wasting no time in putting it on.

Sky kissed his cheek and laid down, Joe pulled her by her waist with his big arms wrapped around her, there was no longer a gap in between. The warmth of his chest on her back was the most comforting thing she’d ever experienced, resulting in her instantly falling asleep.

Since the day he met her, she’d been the only person he thought about. Having her this close to him, internally evoked new emotions for him.

Watching her sleep so peacefully while being wrapped in his arms, brought a smile to his face. In that very moment he made a vow to himself, to always put her happiness first.

No matter what.

…………….

Present

The New York city lights illuminated the busy streets. Sky wasn’t used to being in such a live and ambient city. 

After a shit ton of convincing from her best friend Lori, Sky forced herself to step out of her comfort zone and pursue a new potential career opportunity. It’s something that she had been wanting to do for the longest time, but unfortunately her deep rooted insecurities had her convinced she wasn’t good enough.

She was scared to waste so much time and effort, just to end up receiving rejection. 

Except she was wrong, very wrong. Because after an exhausting few months of traveling around the world and going to so many different try outs, life finally threw her a bone.

Sky had received a message from her agent, informing her that a well known modeling agency based in New York, was interested in flying her in for a week to attend their casting call.

This was an opportunity she was glad she didn’t miss. Lori, being the amazing friend that she is, decided to join Sky to offer her unwavering support.

After being in this colorful, fast paced city for a few days, Sky went in for one last meeting with the agency where they informed her she would officially be signed.

Sky still had the weekend left in this enormous city, so she figured she’d make the most of it. Lori, suggested they try out this new fancy bar to celebrate Sky’s new job.

As they walked in the atmosphere was relaxing, the room was filled with dim lighting and the low sounds of jazz music. Sky noticed diverse groups of people scattered across the room, the air was filled with chatter and laughter, which brought a small smile to her face.

They decided to sit at the stools of the bar, they figured the closer they were, the faster they’d receive their drinks.

To say they were having a good time would be an understatement, Sky was starting to truly enjoy the feeling of being immersed in this vibrant city.

While Lori went to the bathroom, Sky decided to order their third drinks, and as she was waiting she ended up getting distracted with a dumbass reality show, that for some reason was starting to pique her interest.

Just as the boring commercials started to play, she was starting to zone out when out of the corner of her eye she saw a WWE ad.

Sky could instantly feel her breath hitch in her throat. It’s not the first time she’s seen him randomly displayed on tv. 

That’s not the exact reason her heart was racing, while her body felt frozen in place. It’s the fact that the advertisement said he was in this exact area for a press event he had during the weekend. 

Every piece of joy she was feeling prior to this revelation was stripped away.

Lori came back, and with one glance at Sky, she immediately knew something was wrong, “Sky, are you okay?”

Sky cleared her throat, trying her absolute best to play it off. “I’m fine, I promise. I think these drinks are hitting me all at once,” she nervously chuckled.

Lori stared at Sky, seeming completely unconvinced, but she ultimately decided to let it go.

“I’ll drop it for now, only because it’s a big day for you.”

“Thank you,” Sky mouthed.

Sky waited twenty minutes for Lori to finish her drink, her anxiety made it feel like she was waiting a lifetime. Once Lori finished up, Sky asked to leave, using the excuse that she was exhausted. 

Lori paid their tab after refusing to let Sky pay a dime. They started to make their way out of the packed bar, trying their best to maneuver away from large crowds. 

Just as they were close to the entrance door, Lori had to turn around when she noticed she left her sunglasses. Sky was looking back to see if her friend had located them, while still walking forward. 

She decided it would be best to wait outside since the bar was starting to get congested. When she reached to open the door, her gaze was glued to her purse while she dug for her cellphone.

Before she knew it, she accidentally bumped into someone, causing her to stumble back.

She stood up, immediately apologizing, moving to the side as more people walked in. “Shit. I’m so sorry!” 

“Sky?” His voice was low and hesitant. 

In hearing that voice, his voice… she looked up, suddenly feeling the air grow thick. The bar started to feel small, as if it was enclosing around her.

She felt her body go cold, her legs started to feel weak and numb. No words escaped her mouth, she was rendered speechless.

He studied her, noticing she was just as fucking stunning as he remembered. After all these years, the feeling he got when she looked up at him, never changed.

“Sky…” 

“Stay the fuck away from me, Roman,” her voice cracked, while tears began to pool in her eyes. She pushed past him, while quickly walking away.

He knew he deserved it, but hearing her call him by that name fucking stung.

He stopped her by gently grabbing her arm.

“Sky, if you never want to see me again after this, I’ll…I’ll let you be. But please just let me explain,” he pleaded.

“I think it’s a little too fucking late for that,” she scoffed. 

Sky walked out the bar without looking back, quickly texting Lori saying she’d be at a café a few blocks over. Right now all she wanted was to create as much distance as possible, from the man who broke her heart.

[mononijikayu]

cure — ryomen sukuna.

"I’ll write you the best songs, little lamb. Even better than what I already gave you." he promised to you. His tone was softer than usual. "Songs so good they’ll make the stars jealous." “You are making quite big promises, don’t you think?” You tease him, giggling as you read over his newest piece. “This would make the stars jealous.” "Yeah, because they’re our songs." he’d say, his smirk softening as he handed you another crumpled page. "No one else gets to have something as good as this. Not even the stars. Only you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - alien stage au;

WARNING/S: dead dove do not eat, nsfw (not safe for work), alien invasion, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, dehumanization, hurt/comfort, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, trauma, pining, complicated relationship, emotional distress, grief, canon related violence, emotional abuse, physical abuse, social isolation, depiction of character death, depiction of dehumanization, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of emotional and physical abuse, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of dehumanization;

WORD COUNT: 16k words

NOTE: this was supposed to be posted much earlier but my glasses broke and i have to wear contact lenses, but its rough. my eyes hurt but i wanted to put this out there for yall. i need to get new frames for my glasses, so let's hope i can do that later or tomorrow!!! i adore alien stage and i was really stuck on stage 6, which is ivantill going at it. and so i wanted to write about it in a fic, but with sukuna. this is not an easy thing for people to read as alien stage explores a lot of dynamics, including dehumanization, trauma, violence and other things. so please be careful, i tagged what it containsfor a reason!!! in any case, i think you'll be able to read nanami's much easier. i hope you continue to look forward to it!!! anyway, i'll see you then. i love you all <3

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 2000;

if you want to, tip! <3

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YOU’VE ALWAYS WONDERED ABOUT STARS. Everything about them is a curiosity to you, a mystery waiting to be unraveled. The stars, once distant and unknowable, had always felt like something you could only admire from afar���faint whispers of a universe too vast to comprehend, scattered far beyond the grasp of your outstretched hand.

But then the aliens arrived, and the stars transformed. They were no longer untouchable pinpricks in the night sky; they became tangible, living, breathing beings.

And one of them, Starlight, became more than a friend, more than a visitor from the cosmos. They became yours. Not in the way one claims possession of something, but in the way their very presence seemed to stitch itself into the fabric of your existence.

Starlight was radiant, their shimmering, soft luminescence enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Their light didn’t burn; it soothed, warm and alive. They spoke not with words, but with a gentle hum that resonated deep in your chest, as though they were singing to the very rhythm of your heart. When they were near, the world felt softer, brighter. They were your everything, your universe, encapsulating all of your childish self. 

Their curiosity mirrored your own, eyes (or something like them) wide as they marveled at the simplest human things: the way you brewed tea, the way the rain danced against your window, the way you laughed when you thought no one was listening. And in return, you marveled at them. They were a marvel, a being from the stars. And yet somehow so achingly familiar to you.

Every moment you both shared felt like secrets whispered between galaxies.It was endless excitement, especially for you who was still growing into yourself.

They would lift a glowing hand to the sky, and the stars would twinkle in reply, as if winking just for you. And when the weight of life pressed too heavily on your shoulders, when you missed home — you were reminded that you were already home. Because you were with Starlight.

Starlight was unlike anyone you’d ever known. Their presence was a tapestry of light and sound, shifting and shimmering in ways that no human words could fully capture. They were, without a doubt, the kindest of all the aliens you’d encountered—something you hadn’t thought possible in your tumultuous travels across the stars.

They never looked down on you, never acted superior. They never raised their voice or lashed out, never gave you cause to cry or to feel small. No, Starlight was different. They listened, truly listened, and their responses carried a patience and understanding that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket.

And they had this way of making you smile, even when you thought the weight of the universe would crush you. It was as though their very essence carried an unspoken promise: You are not alone.

You weren’t sure when it started, but somehow, you began to notice that you made them smile too. Well, if "smile" was the right word for the way their luminous form would pulse and shimmer with vibrant, joyful hues. It wasn’t until the day you sang that you truly understood how much you’d touched them.

You had been sitting by the viewing port, staring out at the swirling nebulae, the colors dancing in the void. The melody had come to you unbidden, a quiet hum at first, then blooming into words you hadn’t sung since you were a child. Your voice filled the chamber, mingling with the hum of the ship's systems. It wasn’t a grand performance, just something small and raw. But it was enough.

When you turned, Starlight was there. They were looking at you, their form trembling with flickering pulses of color you’d never seen before. It was awe-striking to see for the first time, who they truly are.

Those vibrant deep ambers and rich violets that seemed to ripple like a heartbeat. Their light dimmed for a moment as though catching its breath. Then, their glow intensified, and you realized they were weeping.

Tears? Could they cry? You’d never thought to ask before.

“Starlight?” you asked hesitantly, standing. “Did I... do something wrong?”

They stepped—or rather, floated—closer, their luminescence washing over you in a gentle cascade. They shook their heads at you, almost too reassuringly. Their hand rested against your head and traced the strings of your hair with soothing echoes. 

“Wrong?” Their voices vibrated like chimes caught in a soft breeze. “No, little one. What you’ve done is beyond beautiful.”

You tilted your head, still unsure. “But... you’re crying?”

They seemed to shimmer with quiet laughter at your confusion. “Your voice.” they said, “it carries something special. It reminds me of home, of frequencies long since lost to my kind.”

“Lost?” you echoed, sitting back down. “How can sound be lost?”

“It’s not just sound, little one.” Starlight explained, their glow shifting into softer, warmer tones. “It’s emotion, memory. My people... we’ve forgotten how to feel them as you do. Your song brought them back, if only for a moment.”

You felt your cheeks flush red, unsure how to respond to such an overwhelming compliment. “I-I see. But I….I still did not want to….I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Their light brightened again, wrapping you in warmth. “Tears are not always sorrow, my dear little one. Sometimes they are the purest form of joy.”

For a while, you both sat in silence, the vastness of space your only witness. Then, tentatively, you asked, “Would you like to hear another song?”

Starlight’s form pulsed with an eager glow ethereally happy. “I would be honored.”

Over time, you grew fonder of that voice of yours. That voice of yours that harmonizes to what the other aliens called singing. What once felt like a mere habit became a passion, nurtured by the joy Starlight showed in your songs. Starlight delighted you in every way they could, bringing melodies from across the cosmos to inspire you. 

They filled your world with sounds and instruments. At times, they would bring you little boxes they often called on Earth as music boxes. You had to crank it up over and over to hear those little sounds hum its tune.

You don’t remember much about Earth at all, but those melodies were haunting refrains from distant moons, rhythmic pulses from pulsar dances. They were beautiful. At times you wondered, is this what Earth people like?

You were thankful for everything Starlight would do for you. In return, you wanted to delight them too. So, you tried your best all the time, to sing. You sang for Starlight’s guests—beings of every shape, size, and light. And with time, they too grew fond of your voice. 

Their praises were frequent, full of admiration. Their luminescent forms often shifted with excitement as they spoke about you after your performances. That’s when the whispers began from each and everyone of them when they came around. They tried to be quiet, but they were always loud enough to be heard. Not only by you, but ever so clearly, your Starlight.

“Bring your pet to the Alien Stage.” they’d say to Starlight, their voices rippling like waves. “Surely, they’d win the crowd over.”

The first time someone said it, you noticed the subtle change in Starlight’s glow—a flicker, almost imperceptible. Their eyes, usually brimming with warmth, grew wide with tension. They would shake their head in a proud, head-strong manner. 

“No.” they said simply, their tone firm, though the words hummed low, almost mournful. “I will not.”

But none of them were deterred by each refusal. If anything, that only made the urge stronger, with each and every time you sang in their presence. Each time the suggestion came up, however, Starlight’s refusal was the same, unwavering. Each time, it was a hard pressing refusal. Over and over again, it was — “No.”

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You didn’t even know what Alien Stage was. But as the guests chatted, your curiosity grew. You overheard them talking with excitement about the performances, the music, the awe-inspiring singers from every corner of the universe.

They’d list the names of their favorites, their voices buzzing with admiration. Some even mentioned their own “pets” performing there, beings like you, brought to the stage to dazzle the multitudes.

Your eyes widened at every detail. The way they spoke of it made the stage sound like a dream. This seemed like a place where voices transcended worlds, where songs could echo through the cosmos itself. 

You started to imagine yourself there, standing before an audience of countless beings, your voice reaching further than you ever thought possible. Maybe Starlight would be proud of you. Maybe they’d adore you even more if you proved your worth on that stage.

One day, your resolve solidified. You approached Starlight, your heart pounding with nervous excitement. “I want to sing for others. Not just for you, but for everyone. I want to sing on that stage. And make them as happy as I had made you!”

The moment the words left your lips, Starlight’s glow dimmed, their light trembling like a flickering flame caught in a draft. It was the first time you’d ever seen them falter. “You don’t understand what you’re asking, little one.” they murmured, their usually harmonious voice tinged with unease.

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer. “I want to share my voice with everyone too, Starlight. Isn’t that what music is for?”

Their glow wavered, their colors shifting to muted tones. “The Alien Stage... it’s not kind. It’s not about music, not truly. It's a spectacle. You are not a spectacle. You’re not a commodity, certainly not my pet, no matter how they insist so. I won’t let them turn you into something you are not.”

You blinked, taken aback. “But... the others, your friends—they said their pets perform there. They’re fine, aren’t they?”

Starlight’s light flared briefly, a rare burst of frustration. “Fine? Is that what they told you? Do you know what happens when the universe gets bored of a song? When will the novelty fades?” They quieted, their voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re my melody. My little one. I won’t let you be taken from me.”

Their words stung, but you couldn’t let go of the yearning in your heart. “My songs aren’t meant to stay here, Starlight. They’re like you—meant to travel, to touch others, to spark something in their hearts. Don’t you see? This is what I want.”

For a long moment, silence hung between you, heavy and unyielding. Then, finally, Starlight dimmed further, their light softening into a pale, reluctant glow. They looked distraught, nervous. They seemed to look close to tears.

“If this is truly what you desire, little one.” they said, their voice trembling. “Then I will take you somewhere to help you. But promise me, no matter what happens, you’ll remember that you’re more than a song. You’re more than what they might try to make of you.”

“I promise.” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

Starlight didn’t respond right away. Instead, they reached out, their light brushing against you in a gesture that felt both protective and sorrowful. You looked up to them, blinking in confusion. At this moment, you still never truly knew what these complex gazes meant. You were still a child, after all. 

“Then I will help prepare you for the stage.” they said at last. “But know this: the universe can be a cruel audience.”

You nodded at them. They can only pierce their lips in a tight line. “I’ll send you somewhere safe, where you can learn." they said, their glow dim but steady. "Anakt Garden. They’ll teach you, nurture you. But promise me this: don’t let them take your essence away."

Anakt Garden was unlike anything you’d ever imagined. It was an orbital sanctuary, a massive structure built to mimic nature but filled with the impossible beauty of alien design. The fields glowed faintly, shifting in color as the air pulsed with an almost musical hum. Trees stretched high, their leaves shimmering like glass, and the ground beneath your feet felt soft, warm, alive.

Other children were there. And you realized that they were humans like you. The pets they were talking about like you. You hadn’t expected that all humans were pets. You had only known what Starlight told you about the universe.

Still each human child in their own right was unique in their presence. Some carried the same nervous energy you felt; others radiated confidence. It was comforting, in a way, to see so many dreamers gathered in one place. All of them yearn to sing, as much as you do. That had made you smile for the first time, the first time since parting from Starlight.

And then there was Ryomen Sukuna.

The first time you saw him, he was sitting under one of the bizarre trees, his pink hair like a fuschia flame against the soft glow of the Garden. He seemed at least a bit older than you. But you found him to be a fair face. 

He had a presence that demanded attention, his sharp scarlet eyes daring anyone to look away. Where the other children were careful and obedient, Ryomen Sukuna was bold, loud, and entirely unapologetic. And with the way everyone spoke about him, he seemed to be a lone wolf. A persona non grata in a group of these jolly children.

Yet, when you first heard him sing, you were awestruck. You stood there, listening as though he was growing something in you. Like a flower that has been waiting to bloom. Everything in the air shifted when he sang like he was crying out for something to be heard.

Of course, His voice wasn’t polished or restrained; it was raw, powerful, and full of an unyielding intensity. It shook something loose inside you, something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back. You couldn’t help but gulp, you wanted to be just like him too. You wanted to be as good as him, blessed with such a wonder of a voice too.

Sukuna being good at singing had lit a fire in you, one you hadn’t fully realized was there until now. Watching him perform was like witnessing a storm in motion. It was wild, untamed, and utterly captivating. Everything about him would make anyone feel like the world should revolve around him. And you wanted that too. 

You wanted to capture that vibrance too. You wanted to be good. You wanted to make Starlight proud. You wanted to sing. Sing like you were the best in the world. It made you want to push yourself further, to become better, to chase the same freedom he seemed to command so effortlessly.

You started practicing harder than ever, retreating to one of the isolation cells to hone your voice. Day in and day out, you sang, the emptiness of the chamber amplifying your every note. Sometimes you sang until your throat was raw, until your limbs ache from exhaustion. You forgot to eat more often than you cared to admit, too focused on perfecting your craft.

And yet, despite all your effort, you knew you were holding back. It wasn’t hard to tell that you were. And that frustrated you to no end. It wasn’t that you couldn’t reach those soaring heights or push into the raw, emotional depths you heard in Sukuna’s voice. It was that you didn’t let yourself.

Of course, Ryomen Sukuna was quick to notice. 

With those sharp eyes of his, he always noticed.

“You’re good.” he said to you one day, his tone deceptively casual. 

He leaned against the doorway to the cell, arms crossed, his sharp scarlet gaze cutting through you like a blade.You couldn’t help but glance up from where you sat on the cold sterile floor, startled. You hadn’t heard him come in. 

“Thank you.” you muttered, unsure how to take the compliment.

“But you’re holding back.” he added, his voice laced with amusement as he stepped closer. His smirk was as infuriating as it was challenging. “Why?”

You hesitated, your heart sinking under the weight of Starlight’s words—the warnings, the fear in their trembling light. You wanted to sing, you wanted to be the best. But you had to be true to what your Starlight said. You had to.

“I don’t want to disappoint my guardian.” you admitted quietly. “They’re afraid I’ll lose myself if I go too far.”

Sukuna tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he was halfway to solving. Then he snorted, his grin widening into something both cocky and strangely reassuring. It was almost irritating. And yet, he had the right to be smug. He had it all figured out. All too well. 

“Lose yourself? You? Nah.” He crouched down to your level, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “If anything, you’re too afraid to find yourself.”

The words hit harder than you expected, leaving you speechless. Ryomen Sukuna laughs for a moment before he leaned in closer, his laughter dying down. It was soon replaced by a sly smirk softening into something that almost felt like encouragement.

“You’ve got fire in you, you know that?” he said, his voice low but insistent. “I can hear it in your voice, even when you try to hide it. You’re scared of what happens if you let it out, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped. He wasn’t wrong. Some of the people here are favorites of many aliens who had come to Starlight’s home as guests. And Sukuna was one of them. And some of them whispered here about what the contest was like. Even more, you were without Starlight. They won’t be coming back until the next visiting day. 

He was right, he seems to always be right. You were afraid, sometimes feeling that fear of the unknown. That lack of security. That echo of loneliness. Of course you were scared.. You were but a child. And you don’t know much about this world. 

“It’s not about them.” he continued, his tone firm now. “Not your guardian, not the stage, not anyone else. It’s about you. You wanted to join because you wanted to sing, right? Then do it for yourself.”

Your brows furrowed. “But I—”

“No ifs, no buts. You’ve got something special, something that deserves to be heard. And if you keep locking it away, you’re not just letting them down—you’re letting yourself down.”

His words lingered in the air, a challenge and a promise all at once.You swallowed hard, feeling a spark of something new—courage, maybe, or defiance. Is it all that, you wonder? Or is just a phantom of a feeling. You didn’t know, truly. But his words made you feel like a fire was burning inside of you. And even if you didn’t know what it was…..at least it was there, long enough to keep you from sorrows.

“And what if I let it out and it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna’s smirk turned into a genuine smile, rare and disarming. “Then you keep going. You mess up, you fall, you sing again. That’s how you find your edge. That’s how you find you.”

He straightened up, his presence still larger than life even as he turned to leave. “Next time I hear you, lamb.” Sukuna called over his shoulder, causing you to blink as he called you a new name. “Don’t hold back. Let the fire burn.”

You sat there in the quiet for a long time after he left, his words echoing in your mind. Maybe Ryomen Sukuna was right. Maybe it was time to stop holding yourself back. Maybe it’s time to let that fire you feel be more than just a feeling. You took a deep breath, and looked at your music sheets again. It was time to practice once more.

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YOU FIND THAT YOU DWELL IN THE SAME AXIS AS SUKUNA. Somehow, you and Sukuna understood each other better than most in the Garden. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about outright. Well, there was no place for that here, after all.

So, there were no flowery declarations of kinship or shared confessions under the stars. But it was there, an unspoken connection that threaded between your interactions, subtle yet undeniable.

At first glance, it didn’t make much sense at all. You couldn’t be more different. Sukuna, with his razor-sharp confidence and unapologetic boldness, seemed to command the space around him, every action deliberate and brimming with power. You, on the other hand, felt smaller, quieter, more uncertain of your place among the dazzling figures who roamed the Garden.

And yet, despite your differences or maybe because of them, you felt natural around each other. Conversations flowed without effort, even in their silences. He could sit beside you, offering no more than a teasing smirk or a dry comment, and you wouldn’t feel the need to fill the quiet with needless words. Somehow, it was enough just to share the same space, like two stars orbiting the same unseen gravity.

Perhaps it was the way you each carried something hidden beneath the surface, something you rarely shared with others. Sukuna, for all his bluster, carried a weight in his eyes, a history that lingered in the way he sometimes stared into the distance, his smirk slipping into something more thoughtful. You had your own burdens, your own doubts, ones you tried to shield behind polite smiles and quiet resolve.

It wasn’t that you talked about those things. At least not directly. But there were moments, fleeting and unguarded, where the weight of what you both carried seemed to align. In those moments, you’d catch him watching you, his gaze softer than usual, as though he saw through the walls you’d built. And you knew, somehow, that you could see through him too.

Even when your worlds didn’t overlap most of the time. When his passions and his sharp-edged confidence clashed with your quieter, more careful nature, there was still some well founded common ground in the simplicity of understanding. There was no judgment between you, no need to prove yourselves to one another.

Sukuna didn’t try to push you into his shadow, and you didn’t shrink from the light he cast. And perhaps, that’s what you liked the most about him. He didn’t change anything with how he treated you or how he interacted with you. He was just himself. And you were just who you were. 

For all the chaos and politics surrounding the Garden, where alliances shifted like the wind and friendships often felt transactional, what you had with Ryomen Sukuna was refreshingly uncomplicated. It wasn’t about competition or gaining favor. It was just... real.

And maybe that’s why, despite having little in common, you felt natural with him. You didn’t need to explain yourselves to each other. Somehow, you just knew.That was for the better, if you were truly saying it bluntly. 

The shimmering beauty of Anakt Garden couldn’t hide its truth: it was a terrifyingly stifling place. Every moment was monitored, every move scrutinized by the alien caretakers. Their intentions were kind, but their constant observation weighed heavy, leaving you feeling like a butterfly pinned under glass.

Ryomen Sukuna hated it. He wouldn’t even be here if his guardian wasn’t insistent on making use of him like a pet who made him a lot of money— of course, just as much to isolate him from the scandals and troubles he creates as a performer. 

You heard rumors about all of that, but you weren’t sure if they were true. You don’t want to cross a boundary with Sukuna, something he was unwilling to talk about as much as something he never truly decides to talk to you about. 

But it was obvious in all the other ways, you suppose. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened whenever the caretakers hovered too long, their cold, clinical voices reminding you to stay on schedule, to follow their precise instructions. He never said anything outright in their presence, but the tension in his body was impossible to miss. His hands would curl into loose fists, his eyes narrowing like he was fighting the urge to lash out. 

It wasn’t just their commands that grated on him—it was their entire approach. The way they treated you, and everyone else in the Garden, as projects, toys to play with rather than souls who deserve respect. 

To this part of the galaxy, human children were their tools to be honed, performances to be perfected. You didn’t need to ask how he felt about it; his disdain was evident in every clipped word and icy glare he threw their way and how much he does not care for their discipline and in the worst cases, punishment.

You worry about him, about his defiances. But you know he’s been through this before, and he was a veteran. Ryomen Sukuna has lived through the experience. You could see it in his eyes, how much he hated the Garden. And just as much, how much he hated how this is affecting you. He hated seeing you go through this too.

One evening, after a particularly grating session where the caretakers had spent far too long critiquing your pitch and posture, you found Sukuna waiting for you under one of the glowing trees in the Garden. The soft luminescence of the tree’s branches cast him in an almost ethereal light, though the storm cloud brewing in his expression was anything but serene.

He didn’t say anything at first as you approached slowly, just patted the ground beside him in an unspoken invitation. You sat, letting out a long sigh, the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders.

“They don’t get it.” Sukuna muttered finally, breaking the silence. His voice was low, angry, but there was an edge of frustration that wasn’t entirely aimed at the caretakers. “They think they can mold us into their stupid little visions.”

You glanced at him, his face partially obscured by the shadows of the tree’s light. “Maybe that’s just how they think things work.” you said softly, even though you didn’t fully believe your own words. “They’re just trying to help us... be better.”

Sukuna snorted, his lip curling into a derisive smirk. “Help? Is that what you call it, little lamb? Barking orders, telling you to strip everything raw until there’s nothing left but their idea of ‘perfect’? Yeah, really helpful.”

You didn’t reply right away. There was truth in what he said, he knew it more than you. That was the truth of that. But the caretakers had a way of making you feel like you couldn’t question them, like they knew what was best. 

And even then, you were the one who wanted to be here in the first place. You had asked Starlight to let you be on that stage, happily so. You wanted to sing for the universe. For all the galaxies to see and hear. You chose your poison, your suffering. You had to make your bed and deal with it too.

Sukuna turned to you then, his sharp gaze piercing through your silence. “You’re already perfect, okay? Don’t listen to them, little lamb.” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “They just can’t see it.”

The words caught you off guard, scarlet warmth rising to your cheeks despite the weight in your chest. “I’m not... I mean, I’m trying to be better.” you stammered, looking away. “I want to be good enough.”

He leaned closer, his expression softening just a fraction. “Good enough for who? Them? You think their approval is worth breaking yourself over?”

You hesitated, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened again, but this time his anger felt different. You were good at reading his emotions by now. You had seen his eyes too much to not know what they felt. And when it comes to you, they shine with a protective glow almost all the time. 

“Listen to me, little lamb.” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not some tool for them to shape, alright? You’ve got something real, something no one else has. Don’t let them take that away from you.”

You met his gaze, unsure of how to respond. There was something raw in his expression, something that felt startlingly vulnerable. For all his bravado, Sukuna wasn’t just angry for the sake of it, he never was. You knew him too well for you not to know that. He genuinely cared.

“Thank you, ‘kuna.” you said quietly, the word feeling small but sincere.

He leaned back against the tree, his smirk returning, though it was softer this time. “Don’t thank me yet. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let them dim your light. You’re better than their rules, their schedules. You’re better than all of it.”

His words settled over you like a protective shield, bolstering you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. And as the glow of the tree cast shifting patterns across the ground, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. You want to start thinking that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t need their version of perfection. Maybe you could find your own.

With each passing day, his company as much as his protectiveness became your anchor in the Garden’s isolating world. When the pressure of always being watched felt too heavy, Ryomen Sukuna was there to remind you that you weren’t alone. He had a way of drawing you out of your own thoughts, pulling you into his world where the rules didn’t seem to matter.

He started making you little gifts, sometimes when it was the get together activities. He was crude about it but you found that he does endearing work for delicate, endearing things by his own hand for you. He was good at it, with how he cobbled together from whatever he could find around the Garden.

Today, it was a bracelet made of woven grasses that glowed faintly in the dark. A carved fragment of one of the brazenly bright trees, etched with symbols and letters that only he could explain. You gasped as he showed it to you once he was finally done. 

"It’s a good luck charm, little lamb. It’s all written in a human language, from long ago. " he said to you tenderly, pressing a small, smooth stone into your hand. It was warm, as if it had been sitting in sunlight. "To keep you safe. You need it here."

But sometimes, it wasn’t just those he gave to you. Sukuna would sometimes write you songs, too. He was more advanced with that than you in his classes. It’s why he sometimes gets bored attending the classes. Sometimes he also teaches you, when there are things that confuse you about the lessons or if they are going too fast.

Sometimes it was hard to read through it all. His thoughts go by so fast that he ends up writing without thinking about it. You giggle sometimes when he hands you page after page to go through them. They were always good songs, of course they were. But his writing was always something that was ever so special about it all. 

But his handwriting was messy, scrawled on scraps of paper or even on his own arm when he ran out of space. He would get flustered about it sometimes, too. But you never chastised him for that. If anything, it was because he was born a genius of music. 

He was born to create melodies that could move anyone in this life—human or alien. His music wasn’t just sound; it was an experience, a force of nature. It’s why he was a favorite of so many who tuned into Alien Stage. 

His songs weren’t polished or rehearsed to the point of sterility. No, they were raw, defiant, and unapologetically alive. Every note, every lyric burned with fire, passion, and a kind of honesty that left no room for pretense.

And yet, for all their intensity, nothing could compare to the moments when he sang just for you. In those moments, the wild edges of his music softened. The defiance was still there, but it felt different. Everything about it was more tender, like an ember rather than a roaring flame. 

When he played his guitar, the ink on the page didn’t seem as smudged, the chords didn’t feel as jagged. It was as though the very essence of the music shifted, reshaping itself into something gentler, something just for you.

When he sang for you, it wasn’t about proving anything or conquering the stage. It wasn’t about anyone else. It was personal. It was for his little lamb. And his little lamb, who was the softest voice that tendered anyone’s soul, he was sure to want to do the same. He wanted to make your soul a little less heavier in this stifling place.

“You bring out the quiet in me, little lamb.” he admitted one night, his voice low and almost shy, a stark contrast to his usual boldness. 

The two of you sat together under the alien sky, its vibrant hues dancing like living brushstrokes across the horizon. His guitar rested idly on his lap, his fingers brushing absentmindedly over the strings.You tilted your head, caught off guard by the vulnerability in his tone. 

“You? Quiet? I don’t believe it, ‘kuna.” you teased, grinning as you nudged his shoulder.

He smirked, though there was an unmistakable softness in his expression. “Don’t get used to it, little lamb.” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into something halfway between a grin and a pout. “I’ve got a reputation to keep for all the galaxy, you know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, I’ll treasure it while it lasts, then. The great Sukuna, soft-spoken and sweet. Who would’ve thought?”

“Careful, now.” he warned, though there was no bite in his words. “Keep talking like that, and I might have to write a song about how annoying you are.”

You gasped in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over your chest. “Annoying? Me? I’m the one inspiring all this ‘quiet’. I’d like to correct you on that, thank you very much.”

“Fair point, little lamb.” he conceded, chuckling as he leaned back on his hands. He glanced at you then, his crimson eyes catching the light of the sky, and for a moment, he looked at peace. 

“I always make good points.” You giggled back at him.

“But don’t go thinking this is all for you.” he added, his voice playful but his gaze lingering on yours. “It’s just... easier when you’re around. The chaos doesn’t feel so loud.”

Your laughter softened, fading into a gentle smile. “Maybe it’s because you don’t have to be anything but yourself when you’re with me.”

He stilled, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he let out a quiet hum. “Yeah, I suppose.” he said finally, almost to himself. “Maybe that’s it.”

And as the vast expanse of the foreign sky shimmered above you, you couldn’t help but think that whatever quiet he found in your presence, it was mutual. Something about him, about these stolen moments, made the rest of the universe feel distant and unimportant. It was just you, him, and the melody he always seemed to carry.

For just a moment, the Garden didn’t feel so heavy tonight.

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YOU WERE SURPRISED AT YOUR PROGRESS. Just as much, everyone else was too. The caretakers and the teachers began to notice the shift in you. It was impossible for them not to. Your voice had grown stronger, more confident, and your performances carried a depth they hadn’t seen before from you.

They praised you for your progress, their clinical smiles and approving nods a stark contrast to their usual detached demeanor. But their accolades rang hollow. They had no idea that their rigid schedules and suffocating structure weren’t the reason for your growth. It wasn’t their drills or corrections that had helped you blossom. All that work was done by Ryomen Sukuna.

When you felt like the weight of their expectations was too much to bear, Sukuna was the one who reminded you of the fire burning within you. When doubt crept into your mind, whispering that you’d never be good enough, it was Sukuna who sat with you under the glowing trees and told you to keep going.

“They can watch us all they want, little lamb.” Sukuna said to you, with a furrowed brow. 

But then he yawned, his head resting against the false bark. His fuschia hair caught the golden light filtering through the Garden’s strange sky. He was exhausted from the evaluations today, he was up longer than some of the other kids. So after all that, all he wanted to do was sleep.

He leaned against a twisted, luminous tree, arms crossed, his usual smirk replaced by something fiercer, more protective. He wasn’t there for your evaluations, but with how the results came out — he had a right to reassure you. 

You had barely made the top ten of the class. And that terrified you. Being top ten meant that you wouldn’t suffer more remedial classes. You were already exhausted from practicing all month for the evaluations. You didn’t need a repeat of it again.

Sukuna did not believe in the ranking for the evaluations. If anything he hated it. He may have been at the first place mark now, but this doesn’t mean that it meant anything. It wasn’t any of the teachers who will give you points at the live shows. It would be the audience. What the audience wants is often not what the teachers like.

“They’ll never understand what you’re capable of.” He tells you brazenly. “And I’ll make sure they don’t break you. Don’t worry about that.”

You looked up at him, his words stirring something deep inside you. “You really think I can do it?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended.

His gaze softened, the fire in his crimson eyes still blazing but tempered with something gentler. “I don’t think so. I know.” he said firmly, stepping closer to you.

“I just….” You purse your lips into a small line, lowering your gaze.

“You’ve got more heart in your little finger than any of those caretakers have in their whole soulless existence. They’re just trying to shape you into what they think you should be. But you? You’re already enough. More than enough.”

You felt a lump in your throat, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “It’s hard sometimes.” you admitted, your voice wavering. “To keep believing in myself when they’re always... pushing. Always watching.”

Sukuna crouched down in front of you, his expression unusually serious. “Then stop doing it for them, little lamb.” he said, his voice low but unwavering. “Do it for you. Never for them. They’ll never understand joy the way you do about singing. They’re just a bunch of pricks who want to make money. You’re amazing, okay? You got that? ”

His words struck a chord in you, and you nodded, a small smile breaking through your doubt. “Yeah.” you whispered.

“Good.” he said, straightening up and offering you a hand. “Because when we’re out of here, the whole universe is gonna know your name. And I’ll be right there with you, making sure they hear you loud and clear.”

The idea of a life beyond the Garden. That was something you’d barely dared to dream of, but now it seemed suddenly felt tangible. With Sukuna by your side, with Starlight on the other side of you.

Somehow, with him, the Garden’s walls didn’t seem so high or so suffocating. You started to dream again. You wanted to dream again. Not just of performing for others but of living, truly living, free from the caretakers’ rules and expectations.

“You really think we’ll get out of here?” you asked one evening, as you both sat under the alien sky. “And be together?”

Sukuna leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the shimmering lights above. “Of course we will,” he said confidently. “They can’t keep us here forever. And when we’re out, I’ll show you what real freedom looks like. No rules, no schedules, little lamb. It’ll be just us and the stars.”

You laughed softly, the sound carrying a mix of hope and longing. “Sounds like a dream.”

“It’s not a dream, little lamb.” he said, turning to look at you. “It’s a promise.”

And though the path ahead was uncertain, with obstacles and risks you couldn’t yet see, you knew one thing for sure: as long as Sukuna was with you, as long as his voice called you forward and his presence anchored you, you could face whatever came next. 

And so, life in Anakt Garden continued, the days blending together in a cycle of practice, observation, and fleeting moments of stolen freedom with Sukuna. The caretakers pushed you even harder, their teachings were continually becoming a relentless scrutiny that was even more suffocating than before.

They wanted perfection, polished and pristine, a voice that could embody the harmony they imagined humanity should be. After all, they wanted a good show. Perfection was the only way to make that good show happen. But you weren’t perfect by their standards. Neither was Sukuna, and you didn’t want to be — not anymore.

You just wanted to sing together with Sukuna forever.

"You ever notice how quiet it gets here at night?" Sukuna said one evening, lying beside you under the alien trees. The Garden's soft glow reflected in his sharp eyes, making them look like twin stars. "It’s too perfect. Like they’ve sucked all the realness out of this place."

You nodded, your chest heavy with the truth of his words. The Garden’s beauty often felt like a trap, a cage made of light and silence. Artificial as it may be, it at least provided some solace to you when the times were rough. 

"They think if it’s quiet enough, we’ll forget what it feels like to be loud." he continued, his voice tinged with frustration. "But you and me? We shouldn’t be so willing to be quiet, you know?"

Those words stayed with you. And from that moment on, you started to see more of why Ryomen Sukuna was what he was to the caretakers and the teachers. He wanted to live. He wanted to be free. And the only way to be free was defiance. And you slowly but surely, you also became one with him in that too.

He began sneaking out of his quarters late at night to find you. Together, you’d climb the shimmering trees or sit on the glowing grass, whispering plans for the future. He talked about stages that stretched across galaxies, places where no one would tell you how to sing, where your voices could echo freely into the stars.

"I’ll write you the best songs, little lamb. Even better than what I already gave you." he promised to you. His tone was softer than usual. "Songs so good they’ll make the stars jealous."

“You are making quite big promises, don’t you think?” You tease him, giggling as you read over his newest piece. “This would make the stars jealous.”

"Yeah, because they’re our songs." he’d say, his smirk softening as he handed you another crumpled page. "No one else gets to have something as good as this. Not even the stars. Only you.”

“Only me?” Your eyes brightened at his words.

He smiled back at you once more. “Only you.”

But as much as Sukuna comforted you, you could see the way the Garden wore on him, too. The more you get to know him, the more he tells you about his experiences here. They were of course not going into all the details. He doesn’t want to regale you with sorrow.

Yet all that he says were consistent with his previous experiences. And each and every time he came back, he just hated it even more. The constant surveillance, the endless demands, the lack of freedom. It was like watching a wildfire struggle to burn in a room with no air. And no one was getting out without getting burned.

"They’re never going to let us leave, are they?" you asked him another night, the weight of the question pressing down on you like a stone.

Sukuna turned to you, his gaze fierce. "Not on our terms if they have their way, no. But that doesn’t mean we won’t get out."

"What do you mean?" You furrowed your brows quizzically at him. “Sukuna, what do you mean by that?”

He grinned, the kind of grin that sent a thrill down your spine because it meant he had a plan. "I’m working on something. Just... trust me, yeah?"

And you did. You always trusted him.

How could you not trust him?

He was all you had in this wretched place.

In the meantime, Sukuna never let the Garden take your spirit. When you were too tired to sing, he’d hum quietly for you, his voice a low, comforting rumble. When you felt trapped, he’d find a way to make you laugh. 

Sometimes there was a sly joke here and there. Sometimes a sarcastic comment, or even an impromptu, over-the-top performance that earned him a scolding from the caretakers. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was that you smiled.

"You keep me sane, you know that?" you told him one night, the two of you leaning against each other beneath the alien sky.

"Good." he replied, his voice soft but steady. "Because you keep me grounded too."

You liked to think that when he smiled then, you realized you loved him.

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THIS WAS NOT WHAT YOU HAD IMAGINED IT TO BE. You had not wanted this to happen, not ever. But it has. You willingly walked into this stage. But you didn't know any better. You didn't know.

Alien Stage was supposed to be your moment, the culmination of all the practice, dreams, and songs you had poured your soul into. And yet, this was not the truth. It never was.

As you stood in the staging area, waiting for your name to be called, your chest felt tight. No, you don’t think it was the nerves. No, it had to be something darker. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

You could see it in Ryomen Sukuna’s eyes too. That pool of dread. That horror. He didn’t say anything outright, but his normally fiery demeanor had simmered into something quieter, sharper. As you waited, he stayed close, his presence grounding you in the chaos of the moment.

When your name echoed through the chamber, the sound bouncing off the crystalline walls like a bell tolling for the inevitable, Sukuna reached out without hesitation. His hand found your arm, his grip firm, almost desperate, as though letting go would send you spiraling into the unknown forever.

"Hey." he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. It lacked the usual bravado, the teasing edge you’d grown so used to. Instead, it carried something raw, something unguarded. "No matter what happens out there… sing. Don’t stop. Make sure you sing well. You have to win. Okay?"

His words were sharp and urgent, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. You nodded, but confusion flickered across your face. Ryomen Sukuna had never been this way with you before—so vulnerable, so unlike his usual self.

"Okay." you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered. "I will. I promise."

He didn’t let go, not right away. His grip loosened slightly, his thumb brushing your sleeve in a way that felt almost absentminded. You could feel your breath quiver at his touch, you looked at him for a moment, trying to take it all in. All of him in.

"Okay." he muttered, his eyes dropping for a brief moment before meeting yours again. "Sing as hard as you can. I’ll be here. Waiting for you. No matter what.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a cloak, warm and heavy. "Sukuna… why are you saying this now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk returned, but it was softer this time, tinged with something that looked suspiciously like worry. "Someone has to tell you that they’re waiting. I have to. So you’ll come back.”

You blinked, a small laugh escaping you despite the tension. “I’ll always come back. You know that.”

You could see his jaw tighten at your words. “Yeah. I know.”

The announcement once again rang out for the start, perhaps even louder this time, signaling your final call. He finally let go of your arm, his hand lingering just a second too long before he stepped back.

"Go, little lamb." he said, his voice firmer now. "Show them what you’ve got."

As you turned to walk toward the stage, the gravity of the moment hit you. His words, his touch, his uncharacteristic vulnerability. You know that they weren’t just about the performance. They were about you. About everything you’d worked for, everything you meant to him, even if he couldn’t quite say it outright.

You glanced back one last time and saw him standing there, arms crossed, his fiery red hair catching the strange, otherworldly light. His smirk had returned in full, but his eyes gave him away. No, there was hope there. And maybe, just maybe, a flicker of fear.

And as you stepped onto the stage, the lights blinding and the crowd’s anticipation palpable, you felt a strange sense of calm. You didn’t know why. But you could only look at it later as the calm before the storm that would change your life forever.

The space was nothing like the vibrant, celebratory arenas you’d imagined. It was stark and sterile, the kind of place that drained warmth from the air. The floor was smooth and reflective. You think that you could see your reflection if you look hard enough.

The audience or what passed for one was a collection of alien beings and floating orbs, their glowing forms pulsating with eerie rhythm. It was also broadcasting live all over the universe and even into the other galaxies. 

Across from you stood your opponent. He was about your age, his dark hair messy, his expression somewhere between fear and resignation. He looked at you like he wanted to say something, but the moment passed, and the caretakers began their cold instructions.

"The match begins now." one of them announced.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as the first note left your lips. The song you sang wasn’t what they’d wanted from you. It was the rigid, controlled melodies drilled into you during practice. Instead, you poured everything into the song, letting your voice carry the raw, unfiltered emotions you’d kept hidden. Fear, hope, defiance—it was all there, spilling out into the room.

Your opponent responded, his voice trembling but undeniably beautiful. It wasn’t a battle just yet, no. In that moment, it was a conversation between lovers, having a desperate exchange to bring back a love that was near the end of its lifetime.

You sang as hard as you could, as well as you could. And you didn’t stop. But soon enough, it ended just as fast as it began. The moment the last notes faded, the orbs above began to glow, casting their silent judgment. A brilliant light radiated from your side of the stage, signaling the tally of the votes to announce your victory.

For a heartbeat, you felt relief—until you saw your opponent’s face.

His eyes widened in terror as a column of light descended from above, surrounding him in an otherworldly glow of bright red neon lights. And then you heard the gunshots. You reached out instinctively, a scream tearing from your throat, but it was too late. The light consumed him. Soon enough, it was his blood pooling down the stage.

Just a moment ago, he was something.

And now, he lay there dead, nothing.

Nothing but a pile of blood and death.

You stumbled back, your legs giving out as you collapsed to the cold, unforgiving floor. Your hands trembled, clutching at nothing, your voice gone as the weight of what had just happened crushed you. Your eyes were trembling, you couldn’t look away from what once was a living being.

Someone had approached, their serene tone in sharp contrast to the horror you felt. "Congratulations to you." they said. "You have advanced to the next round."

The words barely registered. All you could think about was the boy’s face, his fear, his voice, now silenced forever. You wanted to scream, you wanted to shout. You wanted to tell them that an innocent young boy was killed for losing, and how horrid that is. There was nothing else you could do, as they ushered you away from the sweltering blood pouring down from the stage to the audience below.

When they led you off the stage, Sukuna was waiting. His scarlet eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, he didn’t need to ask what had happened. He already knew, you didn’t have to tell him. And yet just as much, the answer was written all over your face. You don’t want to talk about it.

"They killed him, didn’t they?" he asked, his voice low, trembling with restrained fury.

You nodded, the motion barely perceptible as your body shook. Sukuna’s hands balled into fists, his jaw tightening as he pulled you into a fierce embrace. Your tears started to flow against his shoulder as you rested your chin against it. 

"I should've told you to run away. I should have stopped you." he muttered, his voice cracking. "I should’ve gotten you out of here before—"

His words broke off, replaced by a heavy silence. For a long time, neither of you moved. You clung to him, your breaths shaky and uneven, his arms a shield against the unbearable truth that the stage wasn’t about music or talent or dreams. 

It was a death sentence.

This is what the aliens at Starlight’s home would be excited about. This is what they gush over their human pets, children— would be doing. They would sing and they would lose and they would die. For entertainment. And you hated it. The thought of it all made you want to hurl everything in your stomach.

"They never told us." you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. "They never said what this was."

Sukuna pulled back just enough to look at you, his scarlet eyes blazing with anger. But then there was regret. And then guilt. And then anger once again, for himself. For his stupidity.

He didn’t tell you anything either. He should have. Why didn’t he? Why didn’t he tell you? He was complicit in robbing you of your innocence. He was complicit in your grief. And even soon, your loss of life.

"They never tell how it happens. Now it’s guns.”

"But... why?"

"Because they can," he said bitterly. "Because we’re just pieces in their game."

For the first time, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t have a plan, and didn't have an answer for how to fix this. He didn’t know what to do, now that you had been robbed of what made you who you were,  your humanity. Yet, all he had was you, and all you had was him.

But as you sat there, wrapped in his arms, something began to harden in you. The Aanakt Garden’s beauty, the caretakers’ promises, the Stage’s allure—it was all a lie. It will always be a lie.

It will always be a place where the cattle grows and gets ready for the slaughter. While the whole galaxy could watch. And now, you couldn’t unsee it. Now you can’t escape it. Neither could Sukuna.

"We’re getting out of here." he said finally, his voice steady but laced with steel. "I don’t care how, but we’re not staying in this hell."

And in that moment, you liked to think you believed him.

If anyone was going to get out, you think, it would be Sukuna.

And yet, that ugly feeling in your gut told you — no one escapes this.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THE PLAN WAS AIRTIGHT, AT LEAST IT SEEMS LIKE IT. Or rather as close as it could be when desperation was your main driving force. There was some time before the next stage, where Sukuna was going to face another opponent. 

And so in that time, Ryomen Sukuna had spent weeks mapping out the routines of the caretakers and teachers, and the additional security and studying their movements and making an accurate layout of the Anakt Garden. He whispered the plan to you late at night under the glowing trees, his voice steady despite the fire in his scarlet eyes.

"We’re getting out of here, little lamb." he’d said. "I’m not letting them keep us locked up like this."

You trusted him completely. You always have. Sukuna had always been your anchor, your protector in this wretched place. He was your salvation, and he will continue to be. You will escape with him. And you will see Starlight again. And you would be free, together. That was the plan. 

But not all plans will go your way. No. Not at all. If anything, things will always go awry. Almost immediately, someone notices. And almost immediately, the meticulous plan that had been  compromised. The alarm rings from one hall to another. And you hadn’t noticed it yet.

As you ran through the dimly lit corridors of the facility, Ryomen Sukuna leading the way with his usual reckless confidence, alarms blared. The sound pierced through the still air, loud and jarring. Your heart pounded as alien drones descended downward, their glowing forms moving with terrifying precision.

"Go!" Sukuna shouted, his voice sharp with urgency as he shoved you ahead. "I’ll hold them off!"

"No! Sukuna!" you cried, grabbing his arm. "We do this together!"

But the drones were faster. Before you could react, one of them fired a net-like energy beam that wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your sides. Sukuna roared in rage, lunging at the drone, but another blast struck him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

"Run!" you screamed, but he didn’t listen. 

Ryomen Sukuna never listened when it came to you.

Almost immediately after that, they had dragged you both back. And the Garden was on a lockdown. It was evident with how the glow of their containment fields cast an eerie light over the corridors, along the fully locked halls and pathways. 

The cold, unyielding walls of the facility pressed in around you, each step back toward the Garden feeling heavier than the last. And you hated it. You absolutely hated it. But you hated even more that Ryomen Sukuna could not look you in the eye.

Sukuna was truly bitter about the failure.

Grievous because you were still here, trapped.

Mournful because both of you could have been free.

When you arrived, Ryomen Sukuna’s alien guardian was waiting. Starlight had always been stern, but Sukuna’s guardian was something else entirely. You were scared of them almost instantaneously. 

They were a towering, cold figure with a presence that seemed to sap the air from the room. Its form shimmered with an intense, otherworldly energy, and their piercing gaze locked onto Sukuna the moment he entered in his presence. Just as much as their fist locked against his human pet’s jaw.

"You reckless little fool." the alien hissed, its voice a low, vibrating hum that resonated in your chest. "Do you understand what you’ve done?"

Sukuna spat blood onto the floor, his red eyes blazing with defiance. "Yeah. I tried to leave. And I’d do it again."

The alien’s form seemed to darken, its glow pulsing angrily. "You endangered everything. Your place here, your future—her future!" It turned its piercing gaze on you, and you shrank back instinctively. “You got sent here to straighten yourself and now you punish someone else with you? What a wretched bastard you are, aren’t you?”

"Leave her out of this." Sukuna growled, stepping in front of you despite his injuries. "If you’ve got a problem, it’s with me."

The tension in the air was suffocating, heavy with unspoken threats and the sharp bite of inevitability. The alien stood before you both, its shimmering form radiating an icy menace that cut deeper than its words. Its gaze was fixed on Sukuna, unyielding and cold, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"I warned you," the alien said, its voice devoid of the warmth it had once feigned, now reduced to a blade of frigid authority. "Just like last time. This is not a place for rebellion. It is a place of purpose, a place of order. I sent you here for that purpose. Because you’re a wretched little fool who likes trouble. And still—still—you defy any sense."

Sukuna’s laugh was sharp, bitter, and defiant, like shards of glass scattering across the floor. "And what’s the consequence, huh?" he spat, stepping forward despite the guards already inching closer. His crimson eyes burned with a rage that even the alien seemed wary of. "You’ve already threatened to kill me before. You should just do it, goddamn it. Kill me already and free me from my misery."

The alien tilted its head, as if considering the words, and then its gaze shifted to you. The moment it did, the air seemed to chill further, and your stomach twisted into knots.

“Then I should kill the girl too.” it said, its tone as casual as discussing the weather.

“You will do no such thing, sir.” One of the caretakers speaks up, as Sukuna’s guardian looks to them. “You cannot touch the property of another.”

“Surely it doesn’t matter.” His alien speaks once again, looking at you. “I doubt this girl’s alien will have any trouble replacing her–”

“No!” The word tore from your throat before you could stop it, fear coursing through you like ice.

Sukuna’s reaction was instant, explosive to your fear. His eyes widened, but only for a heartbeat before narrowing with unrestrained fury. He lunged toward the alien, his movements wild, reckless. With an intent to kill.

"You bastard! I’ll tear you limb from limb if you ever DARE touch her!”

But the guards were ready. They seized him before he could even get close, their metallic hands clamping down on his arms with a force that made you wince. He struggled against them, snarling like a caged animal, his red hair wild and his expression murderous.

“Let me go!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You think you can threaten her? You think I’ll let you? I’ll kill you with my bare hands!"

“I’m telling you again, sir.” The alien caretaker says once more. “You cannot touch another alien’s property without them knowing. You are not their owner. You cannot punish them without their owner’s approval.”

The alien remained unfazed with what the caretaker said, its gaze shifting between you and Sukuna like a judge deliberating a sentence. They snicker at the caretaker’s words, narrowing his gaze to your frightful look. “Very well. Take my own to his sleeping cell.”

“I won’t let you! Not this time!” Sukuna screams like a wildman.

Sukuna struggles against the guards. He nearly gets away, but is quickly apprehended. He growls as he tries to attack them from the side, but they tackle him to the ground. You tried to approach him, but the caretaker pulled you away. Sukuna’s guardian lowers themselves to look at him, eye to eye.

“You will learn, you brat.” They said finally, its tone edged with finality. “Both of you will learn. Separately.”

The word hit you like a blow. 

Separately. 

“No, no.” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, you can’t—”

The alien ignored your protests, gesturing sharply to the guards. "I can do what I want. He is mine.” He looks at Sukuna again and snickers. “We shall have a good conversation, won’t we? Take him. Lock him where his fire can burn no one but himself."

"Sukuna!" you screamed as they dragged him away.

He fought against them with everything he had, his voice a feral growl. You too struggle against the caretaker, but no matter how much you both tried to pull from the gravity of separation, you tried to get closer. Yet it was for naught, as they managed to pull him away from your proximity. Your tears started to fall once more.

“I’ll find you!” he shouted, his eyes locking onto yours even as he was forced through the doorway. “Don’t give up! I’ll find you—I swear!”

And then he was gone.

His guardian follows behind him.

And you knew, you knew what he’ll endure.

You stood frozen, trembling, the caretaker alien’s presence looming over you like a shadow. Its gaze turned back to you, assessing. You looked to the ground, not wanting to show them the tears you were spilling for Sukuna.

“You should hope his words are hollow.” they said, its voice dripping with cold disdain. “Because hope will only destroy you.”

And with that, it turned and left, leaving you standing alone in the silence of the chamber. The absence of Sukuna’s fiery presence felt like a void threatening to swallow you whole. But even in the stillness, his last words echoed in your mind, a flicker of warmth against the growing cold. Don’t give up. I’ll find you.

And no matter what, you held on to that promise.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

THEY WERE FORCING EVERYONE TO WATCH THE NEXT ROUND. But you knew that they were doing this especially for you. You knew they were. It was Sukuna’s performance on the stage that day.

And you could see how exhausted he was, how brutalized his soul was. At some points, purple shade was peaking through his costume. You knew what that meant. And that had made you weep. 

His performance had left the entire arena in a stunned silence. The lights above flickered dimly, casting long shadows that stretched across the cold, metallic floor. The haunting, heavy lyrics that poured from his lips didn’t just fill the air. Each and every word was him, each and every semblance of harmony belonged to him,

Everyone in that arena was consumed by it. Each and every note shifts the energy in the room, warping everything around him. His voice, raw and unrelenting, bled emotion. All his pain, sorrow, fury and in every word, there was a piece of him. A piece that he hadn’t shown anyone before. A piece of him that you knew and now were knowing even more.

You stood just out of sight, as caretakers wanted.You stayed hidden in the shadows just below the arena, watching as Sukuna let the song carry him. You could see the strain in his expression, the way his jaw clenched with each line.

It was as if he was born to be the song. It was as if the words themselves were a personal confession to all that were watching him The black sorrow he sang about wasn’t just an abstract emotion; it was something he had lived, something that clung to him like a second skin.

The first verse seemed to echo a truth he’d carried with him since the beginning of your time together. There was always a distance between him and everyone else. He had always been the outsider, the one who didn’t belong. 

And yet, in the quiet darkness of the stage, there was you—his closest companion, the person who understood the weight of his heart. The loneliness in his voice spoke volumes: he wanted to reach someone, but there was always a wall between them, and that wall was made of sorrow, isolation, and the crushing weight of expectations.

He had sung like this for you before, in the quiet moments when he thought no one else was listening. But now, he wasn’t singing for you—he was singing for everyone. He wanted them to know his misery. He wanted them to know how much they had taken from him. 

This wasn’t just him pouring out his heart to you, no. It was also for the aliens who were taking in his siren’s song. For the aliens who had taken him from his home, for the caretakers who controlled his fate, and for himself.

The chorus rang out like the final bell of a war that had no victor—only casualties. He held the mic stand closer to him. The imagery was powerful, as he tilted his head to belt out the note. Each connecting harmony was like a deep, endless sea that threatened to swallow everything in its path. 

In that moment, as the echoes of Sukuna’s voice faded into the suffocating silence of the chamber you were in. There was a realization that struck you like a lightning bolt to the chest. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just fighting the system, the Garden, or the alien overlords who sought to mold him into their image. 

He was fighting something deeper, something far more insidious: the darkness that had been festering in his soul for far longer than you’d known him. That defiance, that fire that burned so brightly in him, wasn’t just rebellion. 

No, it was a shield. A desperate attempt to hold back the weight of his own despair. And you hadn’t understood it then. Not fully. Not until now.

Memories of him flooded your mind: the way he laughed like it was armor, the way he played his guitar like it was the only thing holding him together, the way he smiled—wide, cocky, and so achingly fragile if you knew where to look. 

That was that smile, wasn’t it, Sukuna? you thought bitterly, tears slipping down your cheeks unchecked. A smile that didn’t just hide pain but dared it to come closer, to strike harder. You didn’t have to face it alone, but you did. Again and again. Because you thought you had to.

Your legs gave out, and you crumpled to the ground, hands clutching at the fabric of your sleeves as if the motion could ground you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, the ache in your chest suffocating. 

"You wanted to die." you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of the truth. "You wanted to be free, to let it all end."

And then the thought hit you like a second wave of agony, sharp and relentless. And I was there. I was there, and you couldn’t help it. 

The tears came harder now, your sobs wracking your frame as you clutched your knees to your chest. You felt guilt, beyond what you should. He too made his choices. He made his choice to live with you. Even if it was making him suffer. But that guilt, you want to free him too. 

You want to be free with him. And how, that might not even happen. Not in this life. Even if you don’t want to give up, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep this up. You wanted to be selfish with him too, to want him by your side for as long as you both lived. And yet, you don’t know what to do anymore as you listen to him sing more and more.

"You stayed." you choked out, the words meant for him even though he was no longer there to hear them. "You stayed… for me."

Your mind spun with the weight of it. Sukuna’s anger wasn’t just about rebellion or resistance. It was the fury of someone who had been forced to live a life they never asked for, over and over again, only to find a glimmer of something, or someone worth staying for. 

And that someone was you.

He chose you, only you.

In that moment, as the final notes faded into the silence, Ryomen Sukuna’s expression softened, just a fraction. He wasn’t smiling, but there was something in his eyes that told you he had given everything on that stage. He always will. Even if he didn’t want to.

The votes quickly came in.

He turned to his opponent. 

And he watched, his eyes cold.

The red spilled on his face.

Ryomen Sukuna had won the round.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

YOU STARED AT THE SCREEN. The days leading up to the next stage were filled with uncertainty, the tension thick in the air. Sukuna and you hadn’t spoken much since his performance, both of you retreating into your thoughts. 

The silence between you two was loaded, heavy with unspoken fears and doubts. Neither of you could shake the knowledge that things were escalating. The stakes were rising, and no one, not even Sukuna, could protect you from what was coming.

Then came the announcement.

The one that would change everything.

You were going to face each other.

This was the last few rounds. And these were the rounds where the most dangerous matches took place. A place where the brightest stars were either made or shattered, and where the strongest were left standing. The announcement echoed through the Garden, their cold voices coming over the loudspeakers, numbing you with their indifference. 

They didn’t care that you and Sukuna had a bond. Or that there was something more between you. They didn’t care about your shared past or your quiet moments of rebellion. Nor could they care about your wanting for freedom. None of that mattered to them.

To them, you were just pieces in a game, and now the pieces were being moved into position for the final battle. The moment you heard it, you froze. The words felt like ice, the truth of them setting in slowly, like a bitter poison coursing through your veins.

You and Sukuna were going to face each other.

You felt the world shift under your feet. Your body went numb as the weight of the situation began to sink in. But even in that moment of paralysis, you could hear the distant, familiar sound of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice—strong, fierce, and close. He was wearing a collar. That was something he had never worn before.

"Sukuna..." you whispered, your throat dry as you turned to face him. This was the first time you’ve seen him since you were parted. “I….”

He was standing near the edge of the arena, his posture rigid, his expression dark. His usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something far more serious. His eyes, usually sharp and calculated, were clouded with a deep, furious storm. He didn’t look like the same person who had stood on the stage with such confidence before.

Sukuna’s gaze locked onto you, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to read you, to understand the words he wasn’t yet hearing. But the words in your mind were loud and clear: you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to fight him. And you were pretty sure he didn’t want to fight you either.

"I won’t let you die." he growled, his voice low, but full of unrelenting anger. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw twitching. You could see the frustration building in him, the same frustration you felt, but much more visceral, raw. 

"This isn’t some damn game. They’re trying to use us, twist us up into something we’re not." His breath was ragged as he took a step toward you, his gaze never wavering. "We’re not toys. I won’t let them take you from me. I swear."

You could feel your chest tighten as you watched him, your mind swirling with confusion. You didn’t want to fight him. You didn’t want to be a part of this blood-soaked game. But what choice did you have? What else was there left to do but survive?

"I don’t want to do this." you whispered, the weight of the situation sinking into your bones.

Sukuna’s expression softened for just a split second before the fire returned, burning brighter than ever. He stepped closer to you, closing the distance between you both with deliberate steps, his eyes searching your face. 

"Then don’t." he said, his voice steady now, though it was strained with emotion. "Just let me do what I can, alright? Let me figure it out.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that there was a way out, a way to escape this nightmare together. But deep down, you knew how this deadly game worked. You had seen the carnage before. And it's doubtful this will be the last. Not even his promises are enough to calm you down.

You had watched as real people were broken one after the other. Crushed under the weight of this deadly game, this stupid game you didn’t want to play. And you knew that in the end, it’s not likely to end. They don’t want it to end. They want to see the blood spill, so they may applaud.

But still, the desperation in his voice pulled at you, pulling you closer to him. There felt a horrible sense of finality. A finality you never wanted. Not with him. You don’t want it to end. Not ever. Not when it comes to loving him. 

Ryomen Sukuna had always been your protector, your anchor. But now, the roles seemed reversed. He was the one who needed saving, and you were the only one who could save him from the thing that haunted him. 

But the price is your death. You had to die to save him. To keep him from suffering. And the knowledge that he couldn’t protect you from this isn’t going to save him either. He wouldn’t let this happen. He doesn’t want to, either.

"I can’t lose you." Sukuna muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but the pain in it was so raw that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I love you too much to let you go.”

You reached out, touching his arm gently, feeling the tension in his muscles as you tried to ground him, to remind him that you were here, and you were still alive. But the terror in his eyes told you everything you needed to know: this wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about protecting each other from the very forces that had taken control of your lives.

“I love you too.” You whisper back to him, almost so brokenly. “I don’t want to let you go either. I don’t want to lose you.”

He shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening. "Not like this.We can’t lose each other like this.”

You tried to pull him closer, but the weight of the situation was too heavy. You could see it in his eyes—the guilt, the anger, the desperation. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being forced to fight him, to be torn apart in front of everyone. But what were your choices?

You both knew the truth. You could either submit to the rules and fight each other, or you could rebel against them, together. And if you did that, the price would be steep. Sukuna’s scarlet eyes softened, though the anger remained.

"Thank you.”

“For what?” You asked him softly. 

“For being the object of my affections.” He whispers to your ear, leaning forward to press a kiss on your cheek. “Thank you for being the victim of my shallow emotions. My love and my hatred. All of it.”

You looked at him for a moment before smiling, eyes getting watery. You could feel the warmth of his kiss sear on your skin, like a burn from the flame. Like a moth burning in the candlelight. You wanted more of him. You wanted more of his love. And his hatred. You wanted it all.

But there will never be enough time. 

There will never be another time.

You cannot escape this time, not like this.

“Thank you for letting me have all of them.” You whisper back to him.

He returns your smile. “It was my pleasure.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

SOON ENOUGH, THE STAGE WAS PELTED BY THE POURING RAIN. And still, they will continue this, no matter what. It had to end here. There was no other way out. The harsh, mechanical buzz of the arena’s lights flickered above you, and the air was thick with the weight of the moment. 

You were back on the stage, but this time, everything had changed. Everyone had their cold eyes watching from every angle. Everything was properly set by now, to the perfection of their wants. All that was left was the stage to have two people, singing for a deadly performance. 

The stage was set, the tension palpable in the air as the crowd held its breath. Everything around you shimmered with the anticipation of what was about to unfold. The lights dimmed, casting long shadows across the space, and then, the music began to play.

A haunting melody rippled through the speakers, its ethereal sound sinking deep into your bones. The notes wove together like a sorrowful tale, threading through the very air that surrounded you. It filled the chamber, wrapping itself around you like an inescapable fog. 

You could feel it—the weight of the lyrics, heavy with longing and sorrow. You sang them as they were. They spoke of parting, of loss, of moments slipping through your fingers like sand. It was as though the song had been crafted specifically for this moment, for this fight, for the end of something you never wanted to end.

You had expected the chaos, the passion, the defiance that always accompanied Sukuna’s performances. But now, as the music surged, something shifted. Sukuna, his scarlet eyes locked on yours across the stage, suddenly stopped singing. 

The notes faltered in the air, the rhythm stuttering as he stood still. His lips no longer moved in time with the music. The sharp edge of his voice, so used to biting, so full of fire—was gone. The silence stretched between you both, thick and heavy.

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze never wavered from yours, but it wasn’t the usual sharp, cocky look. There was no defiance there. There was no challenge. There was no will to fight. Instead, there was only something far deeper, more painful. 

You had noticed it too late, how resigned he already was to this raw, aching realization that you both had reached the brink. The consequences of this moment, the weight of it all, had become far too real for him. You saw it in his scarlet eyes. That flicker of something that you knew was just for you. 

Something more human, more vulnerable, than you’d ever seen before. The walls he’d built around himself, the fire he had fought so hard to keep alive, all began to crumble, leaving him exposed in a way that made your heart ache. And then, against the cold droplets of rain that began to fall from the sky, Sukuna smiled.

It wasn’t the usual smug, arrogant grin you were so accustomed to. It was softer, almost bittersweet. It was the sort of smile that carried the weight of everything unspoken between you. That was a smile of adoration, that was a smile of hatred — that was the smile of devotion.

He stood there as you sang. It was as if the rain had washed away the last of his resistance, as if the music itself had torn down the walls that had held him together for so long.In that moment, you realized something. 

That smile—fragile as it was—wasn’t a mask. It wasn’t a challenge or a jest. It was surrender. Ryomen Sukuna had always been the one to defy the world, to push against everything that tried to contain him. But now, standing there in the midst of the storm, he was no longer fighting. He had accepted it all.

"I should’ve known." he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the rain. The words were barely more than a whisper, but they carried a depth of emotion that took you by surprise. "I should’ve known that... this was always going to be the end. For both of us."

You heard him and you almost forgot your part in the song. You longed to say something—to tell him that there was still time, that you could still fight, that you didn’t have to end this way. But the words died on your throat. You continued to sing.

Because the truth was, you could see it too. The end was already written in the stars.You knew it too, you knew it too well. The inevitable was crashing toward you both, and no matter how much you fought it, it was going to happen.

Sukuna’s smile wavered as he watched you continue to sing. And for a moment, the man you knew, that man you loved, the fiery, untamable force….He was gone. He had let him die at that moment. All that remained was a broken man, drenched in rain, standing at the edge of something he couldn’t escape.

The music swelled again, but this time, it wasn’t just about the performance. It was about you both, about the fragile connection that had formed in the midst of all the chaos. The music no longer felt like a fight—it felt like a goodbye.

To him, this only ends one way. 

If someone must survive, it has to be you.

He all but abandons his space, the rain pouring even heavier than ever. You were surprised as he pulled you close to him. Tears and raindrops all over your face. He was quick to know which were tears and which were the rain. He smiled. The music continued to play in the background.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for your face, brushing away a tear that had escaped. The song continued to swell deeper and deeper, and his turn to sing was upcoming. But Ryomen Sukuna’s lips were no longer part of it. He doesn’t want it to be. He wanted to die the way he wanted to.

His mouth pressed against yours in a kiss that was raw and desperate, a kiss that spoke of goodbye, of all the unspoken feelings between you both. A kiss that felt like a last act of defiance, a refusal to be another pawn in their game.

For a fleeting moment, everything else disappeared. The noise of the arena, the eyes of everyone watching this, the weight of the stage—all of it melted away as you kissed him back, pouring every ounce of emotion into that single act. 

Your kiss was hard and angry, angry at him for choosing this route. Hard because you wanted him to feel your pain, the pain that he was leaving you with as you continued on to live. You pulled him even closer. You part to breathe but you pull him back in even more. You continued on and on until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Soon enough the pelting of the guns started, there wasn’t even the neon red to warn you. They continued to shoot one after another. One to his shoulder, another to his back. But he kissed you back even more, his hands around your throat. As though to tell you his own pain in parting. More shots rang out, one after the other. 

As your lips parted, his expression hardened, scarlet eyes flashing with the finality of his decision. Blood pouring out his lips as he smiles at you, almost so hauntingly with his hands still wrapped around your throat with such eager tightness. 

"You have to live." he whispered, his voice rough, breaking. "You have to survive."

The bullets continued to tear through him, their cold, metallic scream louder than the music itself. His body jerked with each impact, his eyes wide with shock and pain as he staggered back, the warmth of the kiss he had given you still lingering on your lips, the taste of it bitter with the knowledge of what was coming. His rough, brutish hands slowly, and then finally off your reddening neck.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak. Your long lost breath hitched in your throat as your entire world seemed to collapse in on itself. The music continued, relentless, as though mocking the pain in your chest. You wanted to scream, to stop them, but your voice was stolen by the sorrow that flooded your body.

Ryomen Sukuna crumpled to the ground, blood staining the stage beneath him, his chest rising and falling weakly, but his scarlet eyes never left yours. He wanted to look at you. He wanted you to keep looking at him. He was still there, still fighting, still telling you to live, even as life drained from him.

The music reached its climax, the voice of the singer rising in agony. Consume me, yes, me, oh, oh, the words rang out, but all you could feel was the sharp sting of your beloved’s corpse in front of you. The haunting notes continued as if nothing had changed, as if everything was still a game, but the truth was undeniable.

You cried out with everything in you, your desperate tears and the angry rain mixing with his blood on the stage, your heart breaking as you watched him slip away. Until he was finally gone. Until he was nothing but a bleeding flesh corpse in front of you. 

The music, now a distant, broken sound in your ears, felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on your chest. Each note seemed to draw the last remnants of air from your lungs, suffocating you as you stood frozen on the stage. 

Ryomen Sukuna's blood continued to stain the floor and mix into the water ceaselessly, pooling beneath him, but his scarlet eyes... his eyes that you so loved were still on you, still filled with the fire of a promise, a plea.

His last breath was shallow, but his expression never wavered. Live, his eyes said. Survive.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tear the entire world apart for what they had made of him, for the life they had stolen. But instead, you stood there, powerless. The caretakers' voices crackled through the speakers, indifferent to the tragedy they had orchestrated.

They had made you fight. They had made you kill. But Sukuna had chosen to fall for you. He had chosen to make sure you had the chance to escape the nightmare, even if it meant giving up his own life.

And the weight of that choice was too much to bear.

You were still there, staring at him, when they gave the signal. The arena, the very place where your blood had spilled—your tears mixed with the blood on the stage—was just another part of the system they controlled. 

Another place where they took away everything and gave nothing in return. The system that controlled your fate, controlled Sukuna's fate, was now turning its eyes to you. But in the midst of the flashing lights and the cold, sterile voices that told you to continue, that told you to perform, you made a decision. You weren't going to give them what they wanted. Not like this.

Your body trembled, but your heart, for the first time in so long, felt certain. You weren't just going to survive anymore. You weren’t going to let this system take everything from you, your life, your soul, your love for Sukuna, without fighting back.

You dropped to your knees beside him, the echo of his sacrifice reverberating through your chest. His body was still warm, still twitching with the last remnants of life, but you knew it was too late. He was gone.

But the part of him that lived. The part that had made sure you would survive. That was not lost. And that was something they couldn’t take. You didn’t care if they were watching. You didn’t care if they were observing your every move. 

You leaned over Sukuna’s body, placing a trembling hand over his heart, now still. And in that moment, something in you snapped, like a thread being pulled taut and finally breaking. The arena’s speakers crackled, and a voice you didn’t recognize spoke.

“Stage completion.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

The soft glow of the rising sun began to creep into the room, its warm fingers stretching across the floor, painting the walls with hues of gold and amber. The world outside was still, caught between the shadows of the night and the promise of a new day.

But here, in this quiet space, there was a peace that neither of you had ever known. The chaos of the alien stage, the endless battles, the pain, and the sacrifices—they all seemed distant, swallowed up by the serenity of the moment.

You lay there, your head resting on Sukuna’s legs, your body relaxed in the rare comfort of his presence. The rhythmic hum of your song, soft and almost hypnotic, filled the air.

It was a song that had become an anchor for both of you, a melody that whispered of things you had lost and things you still held dear. Your humming wrapped around him like a blanket, soothing the raw edges of his soul that had been scarred by too many years of violence.

Sukuna’s fingers, long and deft, traced the strands of your hair, moving slowly and deliberately, almost as though he were trying to carve this moment into his memory, like it was the only thing that made sense in a world that had long since turned upside down. His hand paused at the crown of your head, his fingers resting lightly as if afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile peace between you.

"You’re still humming, little lamb." Sukuna said.

You were surprised that his voice was unusually quiet, the words more of an observation than a question. His fingers toyed with the ends of your hair, curling a few strands around his finger and letting them slip through his grasp, as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you. 

"You always sing when you’re... content."

You glanced up at him, your eyes still heavy with the warmth of sleep, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I always sing when I remember the good things." you whispered, your voice a soft murmur. "The things that make everything worth it."

Sukuna’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, a brief glimpse of something that had always been there but was too buried beneath the armor he wore to ever show. His hand moved from your hair, trailing down the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. It was such a simple touch, but it carried with it more meaning than he had ever given to words.

"The good things?" His voice was low, almost hushed, as if he were afraid to disturb the peace between you. "What good things, huh?" He shifted slightly, his hand resting beside you now, his fingers grazing the surface of your skin.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his touch sink in, the quiet rhythm of your song keeping the silence comfortable. You let the words come, not thinking about them too much, just allowing them to spill from your heart.

"The times when we didn’t have to fight." you said softly, almost to yourself. "When everything was simpler. When it was just us... and the world felt like it was still ours to take."

Sukuna didn’t speak at first, his gaze far away as if he were lost in his own thoughts. His hand didn’t move from where it rested on the side of your face, his thumb now gently stroking your skin as if trying to memorize the sensation. There was a vulnerability in his touch that he rarely allowed anyone to see, but in this moment, with the soft light of dawn spilling over the both of you, it felt right.

"You really believe in that?" he asked after a long pause, his voice quieter than it had ever been. "You really think we could ever go back to something... simple?"

The question hung in the air between you two, heavy with the weight of the years you had spent in the fight for survival. But there was something in the way his hand lingered on your cheek, something in the way he allowed himself to be vulnerable with you that made you smile again.

"I think….." you began, your voice steady. "We make our own simple things in life. We can decide to live in the good things, even if the rest of the world is falling apart around us."

Sukuna’s gaze softened, his features easing for a moment as if your words had found something deep within him, something he hadn’t known he was missing. He exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

"You’re right, I suppose." he said quietly, his hand slowly shifting to the side of your head again, fingers gently threading through your hair. "Maybe... maybe we don’t have to fight all the time. Maybe we don’t have to live in the dark. Not if we don’t want to."

His words hung in the air like a promise, tentative but real. The two of you stayed there in the quiet, the hum of your song filling the space around you like a soft lullaby. The sun was fully risen now, and the light poured through the window, bathing the room in warmth.

The world outside might have been a battlefield, a place where survival meant everything, where love and peace seemed impossible. But here, in this moment, with Sukuna’s fingers tangled in your hair and the world reduced to the two of you, it felt like anything was possible. You could make your own good things, even if it was just for a little while.

"Stay with me, forever, ‘kuna." you murmured, the words almost too soft to hear, but he heard them all the same. You tilted your head up slightly, looking into his eyes. "Please, stay."

Ryomen Sukuna looked down at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, in a rare moment of honesty, he nodded, his voice steady. He lets out a small smile on his lips. A smile he always reserved warmly for you. Only you.

"I’m not going anywhere, little lamb." he said quietly. "Not if I don’t have to."

You smiled back at him. “Good.”

[aquamarixx]

sweeter the second time around

married out of convenience, you and your best friend, Kita Shinsuke share a not-so-normal married life, intil Kita realizes he never wants to let you go

‎‧₊˚✧ TURNING POINT 2025 ENTRY ✧˚₊‧ pairing kita shinsuke x reader word count 2.9k words tags post timeskip, aged up, friends to lovers, somehow established relationship, hurt/comfort, bit of fluff, marriage of convenience, navigation

You and Kita Shinsuke have always been close—steady, reliable friends who could depend on each other through anything.

It started back in high school, when you crossed paths as the student council secretary and he, the volleyball club’s captain. Even after you moved to Tokyo for university and later got a job there, you never lost contact with him. Through every milestone, every struggle, and every little moment in between, Kita remained a constant in your life—one of the few things that tethered you back to Hyogo, aside from your family.

He’s always been the person who listens without judgment, the one who quietly understands you in a way most people don’t. He knows everything about your life, from the smallest details to the most frustrating realities. Like how your love life, despite your best efforts, has always been disappointingly stagnant.

You’ve tried dating over the years, but relationships never seem to work out. No matter how promising they start, something always feels off. It’s like you’re chasing a connection that just won’t stick. 

Kita, on the other hand, has never seemed interested in romance. He’s always been content with his responsibilities, with the joys of his rural life as a rice farmer, never feeling the urgency to settle down.

And then, everything changes.

Your mother—your single mother, the woman who raised you on her own—falls terminally ill. And suddenly, time, something you always thought you had, begins slipping away.

One evening, in the quiet of her hospital room, she smiles at you, eyes warm but tired.

“You used to drape the blankets around yourself like a wedding dress,” she murmurs, voice fragile but full of fondness. “Always twirling, saying you’d be the most beautiful bride in the world.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, remembering the image vividly. But there’s something in her voice—something wistful.

She squeezes your hand. “I always thought I’d get to see it."

Your throat tightens.

She doesn’t say it as a plea, not as something she expects or even asks of you. It’s just a quiet confession, a bittersweet acceptance that she won’t be there when it happens.

The weight of it presses into your chest, heavy and suffocating.

You try not to cry. Even the tears threatening on your lash line, with all your might, you hold yourself back from sobbing. Instead, you hold her hand a little tighter, as if that alone could slow down time. And you wish it would.

Marriage has never been something you’ve chased. You figured if it happened, it would happen naturally. But now, with her words echoing in your mind, you feel lost.

Later, you tell Kita about it. You’re not sure why. Maybe because he’s the one person who never judges, who always listens. Or maybe because, deep down, you already know he’ll say something that makes it easier to breathe.

He doesn’t respond right away. He just sits with your words, letting them settle between you.

And then, in that calm, matter-of-fact way of his, he says, “Why not marry me, then?”

You blink. “What?”

“I’ll marry you.” His voice holds no hesitation. “It doesn’t have to change anything. If it’ll bring her some peace, we can do it.”

Your heart lurches. “Shin, you don’t have to—”

“I know.” His gaze meets yours, unwavering. “But I want to.”

You stare at him, still trying to process, still trying to find the right words to refuse because this is—this is too much. 

“But what if you meet someone?” you blurt out. “Someone you do want to marry?”

“I won’t.” His response is simple, final.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t even say it with sadness. Just with this certainty, like he’s always known.

“We can figure it out later,” he continues, reassuring you. “Right now, what matters is your mom.”

“But still, Shin, this is—”

Before you can finish, you see him reach into his pocket. You watch him as he tinkers with it in his hand before placing it—whatever it is— in your palm.

You glance down. It’s a small, makeshift ring, twisted from a strand of hay, clumsily looped together.

A surprised laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. “Shin—what is this?”

“A proposal.” His lips quirk up slightly, just enough to tell you he’s amused.

It’s ridiculous. A hay ring, of all things. Yet, for some reason, your chest tightens.

Your fingers curl around it, warm against your palm. “You’re serious about this?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.” His voice is quiet, steady.

And just like that, the argument dies on your lips.

Because this is Kita Shinsuke. The boy who has always been there in your life.  The one who never makes promises he doesn’t intend to keep.

This isn’t a romantic proposal. There’s no nervous confession, no grand gesture. Just the certainty of a man who doesn’t think twice when it comes to doing right by the people he cares about.

And that’s how you find yourself married to your best friend.

Your wedding is small and intimate. Less of a grand affair and more of a quiet gathering of the people who love you both. There are no extravagant decorations, no towering cakes, no lavish venues. Just a modest shrine in Hyogo, the scent of fresh flowers in the air, and the warmth of familiar faces surrounding you.

You rented a beautiful white gown. It’s not the kind you dreamed of as a little girl, but something simple and elegant, something that feels right.

Your friends from Inarizaki High are there, the Miya twins bickering as usual, Suna looking unimpressed but still wearing a pressed suit for the occasion. Kita’s other former volleyball teammates and his grandmother sit near the front, watching everything unfold with quiet joy.

And then, there’s your mother.

She sits in the first row, her hands clasped together, her smile trembling at the edges. Her eyes shine with unshed tears, her face alight with love and pride. This moment isn’t perfect—not in the way you once imagined—but it is enough. Because she is here. She gets to see it.

Only a handful of people know the truth: that this is not a love story, not in the way everyone assumes.

To most, it looks like something out of a dream. Two best friends who have always been by each other’s side, finally finding their way to one another. The way people whisper about how it was inevitable makes you laugh under your breath. If only they knew.

And yet, when you stand at the altar beside Kita, it feels… surreal. Not wrong, not forced, but strange. :ike stepping into a life you never planned for.

You don’t know how to feel.

But when you look at him, standing there in a crisp black suit, something shifts.

Kita has always been composed, always steady, but right now, there is something in his gaze that you’ve never seen before—yearning. Like you are the most beautiful bride he has ever laid eyes on.

It steals the breath from your lungs.

He watches you as if you belong there, as if there was never a version of his life where you wouldn’t end up here, standing next to him.

The ceremony moves forward, words exchanged, vows spoken. You repeat them without hesitation, your voice calm and sure. When it comes time for the ring, Kita slides it onto your finger with the same deliberate care that he does everything. With intention, with certainty, with the kind of patience that makes your heart ache.

Then, the final moment. The kiss to seal your vows.

You barely have time to react before Kita’s hands move. One cradles your face, fingers brushing lightly against your skin, while the other snakes down to the small of your back, pulling you close. His lips meet yours in a long, firm kiss and somehow unexpected in its intensity, yet still so him.

For a moment, the world fades.

His touch is gentle but unyielding, the warmth of him pressing against you in a way that feels almost… real. Your hands, almost instinctively, grip at the fabric of his suit, anchoring yourself.

And when he pulls away, you are left breathless.

A faint red tinge colors Kita’s cheeks, a rare sight, and you find yourself laughing softly. He exhales, lips twitching slightly in amusement.

The moment is fleeting, but it lingers, settling somewhere deep in your chest.

This is the beginning of something new. You don’t know what, exactly.

But it’s something.

You resign from your job in Tokyo, choosing to stay in Hyogo indefinitely, dedicating yourself to your mother. And throughout it all, Kita is there.

He is there in the mornings, helping you prepare your mother’s meals, making sure she takes her medicine even when she insists she doesn’t need it. He is there in the evenings, when exhaustion weighs you down, guiding you to bed before you collapse from lack of sleep.

He is there when you break, when the reality of what’s coming hits you so hard you can’t breathe. He doesn’t try to fix it, doesn’t offer empty words of comfort. He just holds you, steady as ever, as you cry into his chest.

For six months, you live as a married couple.

You cook together, fall into a quiet rhythm of shared responsibilities, navigate the difficult days with patience and understanding. It’s not traditional. It’s not normal.

But it’s yours.

And when the seventh month comes, your mother slips away in her sleep, peaceful and warm in her bed, and the grief is unbearable.

Kita holds your hand at the funeral, fingers wrapped tightly around yours as if to keep you from unraveling. He makes sure you eat when you forget, sits with you in the silence of your shared home, never forcing words where they aren’t needed.

He is there. Always.

And when the dust settles, when the world finally stills, you and Kita remain married.

Eventually, you return to Tokyo. You find a new job, move back in with your friend, and step back into the life you left behind.

But every weekend, you take the two-and-a-half-hour journey back to Hyogo.

It’s a routine you’ve had for years, even before the marriage, and it doesn’t change now.

Kita’s grandmother welcomes you back each time with warm smiles and teasing remarks, treating you as if you’ve always been part of the family. Kita never expects you to play the role of a wife—not in the traditional sense. He never pressures you, never makes you feel obligated.

He doesn’t even mind if you take your ring off.

But you don’t.

You wear it always. Not because you have to, not because anyone expects you to. But because it feels right.

During the weekdays, Tokyo wears you down. The endless crowds, the rush of work, the constant noise—it’s exhausting. By Friday night, your body feels heavy, your mind clouded with stress.

But the moment you step off the train in Hyogo, the air feels different. Lighter. Quieter. Coming home to Kita is like stepping into a world that moves at its own pace, where time slows and nothing feels urgent.

Your married life is simple. Shared dinners at his house, soft laughter over tea, the quiet understanding of two people who know each other well. Chores fall into place naturally, neither of you needing to ask. Some afternoons, you bring him snacks in the fields, watching as he wipes his hands before taking the food from you with a quiet smile. Other days, you visit the market with his grandmother, weaving through stalls and listening to her stories.

When it’s just the two of you, he never forces anything. He doesn’t expect you to be a perfect wife or demand anything beyond what you’re willing to give. The touches he allows himself are simple—his hand finding yours, a light press to your lower back as he guides you through a doorway, a steadying hold on your waist when he moves past you in the kitchen. And then, there are the kisses.

They don’t happen often, but when they do, they linger. He never rushes, never takes more than you give, but there’s something about them—about him. His lips are firm, patient, but starved in a way that always leaves you wondering. Wondering if it’s just habit. If it’s just for show.

Or if it’s something more.

Not that you’re complaining. Because no matter how much those kisses leave you wanting, they also leave you waiting.

Waiting for something you can’t quite name.

It’s easy. It’s comfortable.

It’s enough.

Or so you think.

One evening, the two of you are having dinner at Onigiri Miya. The scent of fresh rice and seaweed lingers in the air as you pick at your food, laughing at something Osamu said. Kita sits beside you, relaxed as always, his hand gently caressing yours.

Then the door swings open, and Atsumu walks in, loud as ever, with a few MSBY Jackals in tow. Their voices fill the small restaurant, easy grins and playful banter making them impossible to ignore.

Kita steps outside to join Osamu, leaving you inside for a moment.

That’s when one of the MSBY players slides into the empty seat across from you, flashing a charming grin. “Didn’t think I’d see a woman this pretty around here.”

You glance up, amused. “Is that a pickup line?”

He shrugs, undeterred. “Depends. Is it working?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. He’s harmless, just being friendly, but before he can push further, you lift your left hand slightly. The silver band on your ring finger glinting under the restaurant lights.

“Sorry,” you say lightly. “I’m married.”

The shift is instant. He exhales a short laugh, hands raised in surrender. “Damn. Lucky guy.”

Through the restaurant window, Kita watches.

He watches the way you smile, the way you casually hold up your hand, the way the man across from you takes a second too long to look away.

And for the first time, something unfamiliar stirs inside him.

He’s never thought much about the nature of your relationship before. You are his best friend, his wife in name, his partner in a quiet, unspoken way.

But you are also a beautiful, kind, and capable woman. Someone who could be loved by another man.

You come home to him every weekend, walking up the dirt road to the house with that tired but relieved smile, greeting his grandmother with warmth that never fades. You fit into his life so seamlessly, as if you were always meant to be there.

And Kita realizes what he could lose.

Osamu exhales beside him, dragging out his words. “You look like a man about to do something real dumb.”

Kita ignores him. Maybe it is dumb. Maybe it isn’t. But he’s never been one to hesitate once he’s made up his mind.

So he steps back inside.

You look up as he approaches, something shifting in your expression, as if you can sense the change in him. Kita doesn’t acknowledge the other player—he barely even registers his presence. Instead, he reaches for your hand, his fingers finding yours, warm and familiar.

You blink at him, confused. “Shin?”

“Come outside with me.” His voice is steady, but something in it makes your pulse quicken. You don’t argue, don’t question, just let him lead you out the door and into the quiet night air.

And as the cool breeze brushes against your skin, Kita watches you under the dim glow of the streetlights.

For the first time, he wonders what it would be like if you weren’t his.

And for the first time, he doesn’t want to find out.

So he just goes for it.

“I want us to stay married.”

Your head snaps up. “Wait—what? I’m not divorcing you or anything,” you say, genuinely confused.

Kita lets out a small sigh, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He looks at you, his expression unwavering but… nervous?

“Let's get married.”

You blink. “Shin, we’re already married.”

“Not out of convenience,” he clarifies, his fingers brushing against yours. “For real this time. Because I love you.”

Silence. Your brain short-circuits.

It’s the first time in your entire year of marriage that Kita Shinsuke has said I love you to you directly.

You stare at him, blinking rapidly. “Wait. Hold on. Back up—you love me?”

He nods. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You squint at him. “You sure?”

Kita exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would I be proposing again if I wasn’t?”

And then, he pulls something from his pocket.

A ring. A makeshift one, out of hay.

You gasp, in mock disbelief. “Again? Shin, why do all your proposals involve farming materials?”

His lips twitch, almost smiling. “Didn’t really plan this one either.”

You snort, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Guess that makes two of us,” he says simply, still holding out the ring.

You bite your lip, pretending to think about it, just to mess with him. “Hmm. I dunno. You haven’t even taken me on a proper honeymoon.”

He deadpans, “You don’t even like traveling.”

“True,” you admit, laughing.

Kita just waits, patient as ever, steady as ever.

You look at him and you thought, how could you say no?

“Of course, yes,” you say, grinning. “For real this time.”

You don’t give him time to respond before you pull him in for a kiss.

And this time, when he kisses you back, with such yearning just like the kiss on your wedding day. 

And somehow, the proposal, the kiss, and everything about this moment feels sweeter than the last time.

amari's notes: kita shinsuke is, if nothing, the best husband anyone can ask for. posting this on my birthday and on the last day i'm writing for my turning point event. anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask or even a request! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

taglist: @inu1gf

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note:Double does of Andricus.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“My lawyer will hear about this!” Your mother snarls and you shy away. 

She always has to make a scene. You don’t even understand why she’s doing this. All they did was forget to put a fork in the bag. The poor employee behind the counter looks ready to snap as they wipe their sweaty hands on their apron. 

“My daughter is sick and you can’t remember a fork! It’s so much for her to come back in here!” She snarls. 

“Mom, I could wait in the car--” 

“Be quiet. Oh yes, I want corporate’s number, right now. I will be certain my attorney gives them a call about you...” she squints at the girl’s name tag, “Tina!” 

“Mom, please,” you pout. 

“Oh honey,” she turns and pets your head dramatically, then look at the worker as she cradles your face and adjusts the tube under your nose, “look at her. Look what you’re doing to her.” 

You hold back the flood of tears. You hate when she does this. You just want to be invisible but she always has to make you front and centre. She always has to tell everyone how sick and helpless you are. 

“Mom,” you moan. 

“Ugh, whatever,” she tears away and snaps her fingers, “give me the fork. And I expect a complimentary salad as well.” 

“Ma’am, we can’t do that,” Tina says dully. 

“What do you mean you can’t do that?” 

“Here,” Tina reaches under the counter and pulls out a card, “that’s the number for head office. I’ll grab you a fork.” 

She turns and takes out one of the bamboo forks. Your mother snarls and squeezes the card until it folds. She snatches the fork and throws it back at the worker. 

“Are you kidding? She can’t eat with this! She’ll get splinters.” 

“I want to go, mom,” you whine. 

She shrugs off your touch on her arm, “Mr. Barber, DA, will hear about this!” 

She stomps and spins. You turn slowly to follow as she’s already halfway to the door. You're already forgotten. You roll your tank with you as you curl your shoulders and awkwardly angle it through the door. 

Your mom’s a bluffer. Andy isn’t the DA. Not yet. He’s only the assistant. And he isn’t her lawyer. Not anymore. Once she won the lawsuit against the hospital, he traded in that title for boyfriend. And now she has a ring on her finger which means he’s soon be stepdad. You don’t think you can ever call him that.  

You avoid him as much as you can. Not because you dislike him, because you don’t know him. Aside from him coaching you to take the stand, you didn’t know much about him. You don’t have the energy to know more. Besides, he isn’t there for you. You’re just the unfortunate burden left for your mother to care for. 

You get to the car, heart racing, and shake as you struggle to get the door open. Your mother has the engine rumbling already and you can barely move around as you’re too dizzy to set your feet. You fall into the seat and strain to drag the oxygen tank between your legs. You really should have more space. 

You wiggle your chafed nose. Your mouth and nostrils are always painfully dry. You get your belt on and reach into the belt bag you keep on you at all times. You santize your hands from the mini bottle then take out the vaseline to apply to your dry skin. 

You lurch back as your mother veers out of the lot. You jostle with the movement and struggle to put the cap back on the tin. You tuck it away at last as her bluetooth dials out. 

“Andrew,” your mother greets the Assistant DA before he can speak. He sighs. You’ve heard him tell her over and over not to call him that. “You won’t believe what just happened. The way they gawk at us when we’re just trying to live like normal people!” 

She squawks on in one of her rants and you can only sit there and listen along with the man at the other end of the call. In the background, you make out the shuffle of paper and typing of keys. You shift as your mother cranks the real and you hear something rustle. You look back and groan. 

“Mom, the food spilled,” you utter. 

“Andrew!” She ignores you as she grips the steering wheel tighter, “are you even listening?” 

“Yeah, I heard. The food spilled. Why don’t you come by the office? I’m just finishing up. I’ll just take you ladies out.” He offers. 

You really don’t want that. You don’t like to go out. You only went to the wrap shop because your mom insisted after your last appointment. You’re always exhausted after all the tests. 

“Oh, gosh, that would be lovely,” she trills, “how about it, honey?” She doesn’t wait for your answer. “I’ll head over there right now. I hope you don’t mind, I won’t have time to change. We had a long day with the doctor.” 

“That’s fine. I just need to send these notes over and I’ll be all done,” he explains. “How about you, sweetheart? Feeling up to some linguine?” 

You don’t realise he’s talking to you until he says your name clearly. You gulp, “yes, sir.” 

“Oh, silly,” your mom reaches over to swat you, “she still calls you that.” 

He chuckles from the other end, “big changes. We’re all adjusting. Anyway, see you shortly. I got someone at my door.” 

“Bye, sweetie,” she sings and the line dies. 

She huffs and rolls her eyes. Her smile falls away. “I bet it’s that damned legal aid. Have you seen the way she dresses? Oh, how she flutters her eyes at my fiance?” 

You just grumble and nod. As usual, she isn’t looking for two-sided conversation. She tells, she doesn’t talk. 

“This will be nice. A family dinner. All of us. Honey, you really do need to loosen up with him. The wedding will be here before we know it.” 

You shrug, “I know. I’m not... I’m trying.” 

“I know, I know. The case was so much and then to think, it brought us all together. But this is the best we can hope for. The settlement is great but taking care of you, it’s so much. It’ll be nice to have help,” she chatters on. 

You zone out her usual gripes. She has a way of complaining about you without really saying it outright. You know you’ve made her life harder. Always sick, always helpless. You asked her to hire you a nurse with the settlement but she convinced you to put the money in a trust. It will be worth much more in ten years, honey... 

She pulls around the building with its staunch white pillars. The sight of them casts a wave of deja vu over you. You thought once all was said and done in court, you’d never have to come there again. It’s humiliating enough to be gawked at in public but to be put in front of an audience like that... 

You’re just sensitive. That’s what your mom says. She’s right. You wouldn’t know. You’ve never had to be on your own. She’s always been the one doing everything. 

She parks and gets out and you carefully lift your tank out of the car, not wanting to touch the cold shell. You stand and lean on it, rolling it ahead of you. You follow her inside as she hardly misses a beat. You can hardly keep up. 

She steps onto the elevator and tuts at you to hurry up. You get on and she hits the buttons impatiently. You get off on a floor, letting her lead you as you keep your head down. Her clicking heels keep you in line. 

“Danica,” Andy greets your mom by name, “just in time.” 

“Mm, there you are,” her response is curt.  

You look up at Andy as he leans on the desk of his aide. She’s a pretty blond woman named Gwen with shiny nails. She smiles as he stands on his own weight. 

“How are you?” Andy offers a one-armed hug. 

“Good,” she wraps him up and plants a kiss on his cheek as he dodges her lips. “How are you, sweetie?” 

“Tired, long day,” he replies stiffly. He looks at you, “hey, you look beat.” 

“A little,” you mutter. 

“You sure you’re up to it? We can just order in,” he offers. 

“I’m okay,” you say as your mother looks at you sharply. Better to just do what she wants. 

“I don’t mind,” he insists. 

“Oh, but sweetie, you said we’d go out. Don’t you want to have a nice dinner with your fiancee?” She smirks at Gwen. 

You want to turn into dust. This is torturous. You’re light-headed and uncomfortable. Andy keeps his arm around your mom, “see ya, Gwen. You get going. I don’t want people thinking I’m a tryant.” 

He struts towards you and puts his hand on your arm to turn you around. You walk beside him and his touch falls to your lower back. You want to pull away but you can’t. The wheels on your tank squeak with each step. 

You’re happy to detach from Andy as the elevator doors open. You wait and your mom steps on first by Andy doesn’t. He waves you in ahead of him and grunts. He doesn’t rsay anything to your mom but you can sense tension. 

“How about I drive? You can come with me in the morning and get your car,” Andy suggests, “save some mileage.” 

“Oh, that would be so nice. I’d love some chardonnay with dinner,” she bubbles. 

He steps between you and taps the button. His sleeve brushes you as you hunch lower. Your head is really bugging you. You just want to sleep. Or maybe you’re just hungry. 

“Looks like it hurt,” Andy points to your bandaged hand. You peek at it and shake your head. 

“IV. Just bruised,” you answer. 

“Ah, no fun,” he remarks. “Well, now you don’t have to worry about the hospital bills, huh? Got you all tucked away.” 

“It’s so wonderful,” your mom latches onto his arm. “You take such good care of us, baby.” 

“Mm, doing my best. Can’t be easy with a sick kid.” 

“No, no, not easy. But oh, you helped so much. I mean, how dare that hospital just dismiss us like that. They could’ve killed her. Malpractice if I ever saw it, and you would know, being a lawyer and all,” she says tritely. 

You stay silent. You don’t like talking about it. It’s over, so why do you have to keep reliving it? She seemed to bask in the attention it got her while you hated every minute of it. 

As you stare at the bottom of the doors, you feel a tickle on your hand. You wince but don’t pull away. You think, at first, it’s a stray hair. You glance over and find Andy rubbing his finger against your hand. You grip the handle of your tank tighter and swallow. What is he doing? 

He stands with his head straight, his shoulders high, as if he’s doing nothing at all. Maybe he doesn’t realise. You don’t move. You’re frozen in indecision. You don’t want to pull away in case you embarrass him. 

Surely, it’s unintentional. You’re just some sick woman still living with her mother. You’re frail and helpless and you can’t even breathe on your own. 

No, it’s just a mistake. A mix-up. He’s probably lost in thought, the way he gets. When he sits and stares at you but sees nothing at all. 

The elevator opens and he rescinds his touch. He waves you through first, and you shuffle ahead of him. Your mom follows and he brings up the rear. You need to sit down soon. 

You go outside into the cool evening air and make your way to his car. Your mother stomps ahead in her heels but he stays at a pace with you. You can never keep up. As you reach his SUV, you hesitate. You forget how much bigger his car is. So high up. 

“Can I help?” He offers as he follows you to the back door. He opens it for you as you spin your tank around. 

“I’m... okay,” you lift the tank first and he quickly scoops his hand under the wheels to help. You grab onto the door to haul yourself up. His hand brushes your hip as you do and you swing into the seat. “Thanks.” 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he lays his hand on your knee and gives a quick squeeze. “You sure you don’t need anything?” 

You shake your head and close your eyes. You’re completely worn out. You need to save what little you have left for dinner. 

“Alright,” he lets go and shuts the door.  

He gets in the front as your mother hums, “let’s go. I’m starving.” 

[vasiktomis]

Loophole (Zayne x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Zayne has an Evol flare-up while you’re visiting Snowcrest. You’re a good friend, so you help him out.

It doesn't mean anything if you don't move, right?

Rating: Explicit (Minors do NOT interact). Word Count: ~6800. Tags/Warnings: Female Pronouns and Anatomy for Reader, Reader is MC, Caretaking, Friends to Lovers, Inappropriate Doctor/Patient Relationship, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Cock Warming, First Time, Vaginal Sex, Photography, Unsafe Sex, Porn with Feelings, Switching. Post-chapter 4 spoilers. Read it on Ao3 Here!

“Let’s get you inside.”

The cold weather poses something of a threat to Zayne, you've realised.

He'd never admit such a thing, of course, but if he hadn't wanted you to make such an observation, he shouldn't have made it his responsibility to impose such an unexpectedly strong presence in your life.

A year ago, you barely knew him. To say he kept you at arms' length was an understatement, but with everything that's occurred in recent months — with such a void left in your life from the loss of Caleb and Grandma — and the ugly mysteries eclipsing once-happy memories — your doctor, of all people, is the one dedicating almost every minute of his time outside of work to trying to fill that void. It's not like he talks your ear off — he's Zayne, after all — but he makes a noticeable effort to make himself accessible to you whenever he can.

He's been a good friend to you at the sacrifice of his own comfort.

In the seven months that have passed since the explosion, you've had more exposure to Zayne than you've had any of your other friends. He rarely strays from his quiet stoicism, but it's far easier to read him. These days, you can't believe you once thought him intimidating. The softer aspects of his personality aren't offered willingly, but accidentally. A slip of the tongue here, a too-long stare at a community cat there, a smile he doesn't think you notice. He masks his requests for you to visit him in his overtime hours as nagging reminders for you to water the plants. He never asks you to bring him dinner, but there's always an extra seat pulled up at his desk when you arrive with it unannounced.

You’re sure he likes it well enough; getting to know you after all these years. You’re just not sold on how fond he is of you knowing him.

It shows stark on his typically taciturn features. Streetlamp light bounces off fluffy snow at all angles in the little village laneway, illuminating the man with an almost healthy glow as he walks stiffly beside you, right hand clutched against his side and his left doing all it can to keep from crushing the bones in yours.

“I’m fine.” He insists while you lead him up to the cabin, grimacing at a sudden chill of wind passing over the porch. There's a certain tone he uses when he's putting on the bedside manner. As a patient, you'd be soothed. As a friend, your patience wanes. He's not fine.

”I’ll get a fire going.” You mutter, ushering him inside. He tries amidst obvious pain to be gentlemanly, waiting for you to enter first, but a scowl on your part has him conceding defeat and ambling through the door. “Get in the shower. Can you turn it on by yourself?”

There’s no more warm light from the street in here. Dr. Noah likely would have fallen asleep hours ago, shortly after you’d left for dinner. Still, even in the dark, you can sense the irritation in him.

“You act like I’m frozen solid.” He retorts on his way to the bathroom, knowing better than to stick around despite the attempt to uphold his pride.

”Get your butt in the shower before I throw you in there myself.”

The warmer months gave you no initial reason to suspect anything, but as the weather worsened and temperatures dropped, Zayne began to feel more on-edge. You’d bore witness to his attacks in the past, but he was no more willing to share his condition with you beyond the odd occasion of being unable to switch it off after a battle. You knew what it looked like when his Evol was acting up. It almost caused a fight, the first time you asked about it. Then, when it became clear you weren’t simply going to leave him to his own devices whenever he was displaying the signs, Zayne steadily, reluctantly, began to let you assist. He couldn’t stand it — he still can’t, you’re sure — not playing caretaker for once, but the two of you found a rhythm; keeping an eye on his temperature, steering clear of fluctuations, little remedies that help him bounce back quicker when his Evol gets the better of him. It became second nature to you, like carrying an Epipen for a loved one at risk of anaphylaxis.

You won’t lie, though. It pisses you off. He’s a constant nag when it comes to your health regarding your heart condition, but there was no allowable mention of his  condition when he brought you to Dr. Noah. Not that your opinion counts for anything, apparently, but what idiot cashes out his annual leave for an extended stay in a tundra when he's so prone to such reactions?

It had shocked you even more when your friend declared he’d be staying back for the foreseeable future, conducting research for the old man on a solo expedition on Mt. Eternal. Your friend — the one who'd taken it upon himself to be a stand-in for your lost family — alone, in the worst possible place he could be in his condition.

It was unthinkable.

Four weeks was your breaking point after you’d returned home without him.

Sure, he responded to your texts within seconds. Reception wasn’t good enough for calls, but he made sure to give you no logical reason to worry about him. It didn’t help. Once your dreams started to take the shape of him disappearing into the mountains, you cut your losses and decided to visit for the weekend.

Just as well, considering he’d been massaging his wrist in your periphery for the entirety of your first day. Still, he'd insisted on showing you around Snowcrest, spending as much time away from Dr. Noah's cabin as possible. You knew his tells. He was bordering on a flare-up and hiding it from you. Had he mentioned it and agreed to stay in tonight, you might not of had to drag him home with frost seeping out of his clothes and a foul mood. Instead, he chose to be proud about it.

Idiot.

God knows what could have happened to him if he hadn't come down from the mountain to spend the weekend with you.

He’d never let you get away with such stupidity, and it’s hard not to hold it against him. You came here out of worry in the first place, and the visit isn’t doing a thing to set your mind at ease.

You tend to rekindling the dimming embers in the fireplace, content to mind your business once you hear the shower turn on. At least he’s doing what he’s told.

The living room heats up steadily. New flames settle into a longer-lived glow. You get yourself changed into more suitable bed wear; a commandeered hoodie from your doctor’s medical school era, large enough to reach halfway to your knees. The frayed cuffs have since lost their elasticity and there are a few choice stains, and most condemning, the drawstrings have been chewed to tassels — but god, if it isn’t comfy. Time stretches on, and while the worry gnaws at the back of your mind, you leave Zayne to his privacy. So long as you don’t hear a thump, you’re content to imagine he’s probably just in there being mad at himself over not being the sensible one for once.

Zayne keeps himself locked away for the better part of an hour, in the end. Even Pie pads out into the living room to investigate what you’re doing up alone in the middle of the night before a scritch sends the fox on its way back to bed.

You’ve slid most of the way off the couch by the time the man emerges from his room in fresh pajamas. With your back to the rug, you watch him approach stiffly, slowing to a halt upside-down. He’s still rubbing at that wrist, you note.

“You’re still up.” He mutters, brow knitted in discomfort.

There’s frost on his neck. His lips are blue. It wasn’t even this bad when you were outside. A pit forms in your stomach.

Then, his wake hits you. Cold air, chilling you to the bone, and you sit up in a flash.  

“Zayne—“

He silences you with a little hand motion, stepping around you to seat himself as close as he can to the fireplace.

“You’re half-frozen.” You continue when he offers you nothing else. Crawling onto the couch beside him, you reach up to tug at the collar of his sweater, trying to inspect the severity of the attack. “God, you should have said  something.”

“I thought you were asleep.” He replies quietly. “I’ve seen — how much it takes to wake you-“

Zayne flinches from your touch when your fingertip skims his neck. The most aggressive warning to stay back that he can risk without waking his mentor. You ignore him, of course. You always do. Sitting close, you press yourself to his side on the couch, guiding his right arm between your thighs. Your fingers lace between his from both sides, covering as much surface area as possible as you use your body to fend off the cold.

A moment is all it takes to see some of the tension in his face disappear. He breathes through the pain, eyes closed, and you shift your gaze to the fireplace to give him his privacy with it.

”You’re in so much trouble when this passes.”

A short, sharp chuckle slips through Zayne’s teeth. He nods once. “I know.”

You sit together like this for a long while, letting him sap the heat from your body to combat the flare-up. If not for the fire, you’d be shivering. It takes time, but eventually Zayne’s breathing evens out. His face relaxes, bit by bit. His half-frozen arm feels just a little cold to the touch.

Neither of you part. Not just yet. There’s too much left unsaid, and Zayne takes far too much solace in quiet to make the first move.

You let your temple drop to his shoulder. “Snow village dates are nice, but most girls would say yes to ‘Go Fish’  and hot cocoa if it means their date makes it through the night.”

After a second, Zayne rests his head against yours.

He inhales.

He pauses.

Then…

“I wanted you to have a nice time. I didn’t think it through.”

…God, he’s such a sweet man. It’s not wonder he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

There’s such a sense of finality to the way he says it. You suppose it’s not necessarily a wrong way to think of it, but it’s not his fault. Sure, it’s your last night together for what may amount to months, and he was stupid enough to think he could get away with poking the bear, but you’d rather have him come home alive and well. Not a victim to his own Evol.

It doesn’t sit right with you to let it end like this. The moment he’s recovered, he’s going to insist you both go to sleep. You’ll take the guest bed, and he’ll take the pull-out trundle, and he’ll remain there, soundless with his back to you. In the morning, you’ll say your goodbyes, and that will be that. The next time you see him will probably be for a check-up, and he’ll spend the entirety of the ECG acting like you’re mere acquaintances again.

No, you’re not losing momentum.

You’re not sure if it’s warmth in general, or if it’s a reaction specific to you — through trust, or the Aether core — there’s just no telling. Zayne keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to ever be sure, but you do know for certain that you hold the quickest remedy. If it’s just warmth, he never lets anyone but you get close enough to supply it. If it’s trust, likewise. The Aether core? You’re the only one.

“What are you—“

Zayne stiffens when you climb into his lap. He winces in discontentment; at such an intimidate proximity, at the physical danger he still poses, at the feeling of your thighs astride his. He doesn’t look pleased in the slightest, but still, his knees shift together, offering you a more comfortable perch on which to explain yourself.

You can feel the cold still radiating from him, fighting his body to keep from regulating its own temperature. It’s unpleasant, the way the chill claws at you, reaching across the expanse of your front. The joints in your hands already ache just from holding his arm to your chest. It’s imaginable, what it must be like to host such an Evol. What it must be like to have your own flesh freeze from the inside-out on a whim.

“Not done keeping you warm.” You answer simply, making a conscious effort to keep your teeth from chattering for his sake. He’s exercising enormous restraint not flinging you off of him already. You shouldn’t push your luck by sending him into any more of a panic.

“It’s not safe for you to be this close.” Zayne protests.

“Then I’m making you safe.”

This time, a growl escapes him. Pain cuts his patience with your impudence short. “You’re going to get yourself hurt—“

Zayne’s words die in his throat when you drape yourself over him, chest to chest, arms languidly curling over his shoulders. He goes completely silent.

“Aren’t you always telling me you can control it, anyway?” You muse, relaxing into him, moulding yourself to his body. The white frost that blooms beneath his skin begins to fade from his throat, unable to contend with the warmth of your breath. “If you didn’t want me doing this you shouldn’t have shown me how well it works.”

“That was after the aid of a hot shower.” Zayne argues. His logic might apply for that aborted attempt at an early-morning hike, but it falls flat tonight. “I was trying to warm up after the shower.”

Yeah, look how well that turned out. He’s as bad at lying as you are.

“So you’re saying I ought to have—“

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If it’s not helping, Zayne, tell me.”

“…It’s helping.” He mutters.

You declare your victory with a hum, tucking your face into the collar of his sweater.

Even his scent is cold, somehow.

Beneath you, Zayne shifts, conceding defeat. You feel his lips ghost the side of your head. Considering — then retreating from a kiss — opting instead to rest his chin on you. His affected arm remains wedged between you, while his free hand comes to rest on your waist.

Minutes pass. Zayne’s breathing steadies to a resting rhythm. Eventually, the ice retreats into his flesh, disappearing with only a lingering chill. It shifts, marking the man’s return to normal, but he doesn’t announce anything. Instead, he tugs his arm out, only to wrap around you, surrendering to the moment.

“Do you have plans, while I’m away?” He asks.

“Tara’s been looking at the blank spots on my calendar, so I’ve probably got things on without knowing, yet.”

“Blank spots.”

”Yeah. Some of us have those.”

”Sounds like you don’t know what to do with yourself without me.”

“Please. I won’t have to worry about you bullying me. Maybe, y’know, I’ll do just fine without you.”

A chuckle escapes him. Tentatively, he toys with the fabric of your hoodie. “You’re not going to wash this at all, are you.”

Heat climbs up your neck at the suggestion. Of all the night clothes you had to bring, why did it have to be something you’d stolen from him?

You’re no coward. You rise to challenge. “Can’t miss you when it feels like I’ve got you with me.”

“I know  you’ll miss me,” Zayne retorts, and wow, he’s really  angling for a comeback after having you subject him to being taken care of, “But that’s no excuse for poor hygiene.”

“Poor hygiene—!”

You lean back to glower at the man, only to find him smirking up at you.

“I’ve half a mind to expect to find you asleep on the platform when the train pulls in, simply because you were too excited to wait at home for me to drop by.”

Your ears are positively scalding. You feel yourself shrinking, suddenly not so confident taking up as much space in the room. How does he have you so well figured out? Are you really that much of an open book? Compared to him, sure, but you’d hoped you carried a little more mystery about you than sitting on a station platform for a quasi-boyfriend-without-benefits  like a dog.

Even if that is  the case — does he really have to rub it in your face?

He can’t get away with this.

Speaking plainly, Zayne’s warmed up plenty. There’s no real reason for either of you to remain this close, and yet — despite lauding himself as the rational half of this friendship, his arms almost keep you from moving any further away.

His expression doesn’t falter with your silence, remaining ever-undisturbed. It unnerves you. His smiles never last more than a second, and you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s looked you in the eye with a pleasant face on. He’s on a power trip. If you don’t cut him down right this second he’ll go nuclear. He’ll leave you hanging with a ‘goodnight’  and a kiss on the forehead and you’ll both never speak of tonight again.

This is it. This is the last straw. Tonight, you leave him  hanging. 

“You want me to miss you so fucking bad, huh?” You accuse him, tapping a finger to your chin as you pretend to wonder. His eyebrow ticks. “Is that what you’re into? Man, you medical staff are all so power hungry.”

Zayne looks thoughtful for a moment. A thumb idly traces back and forth along your skin, barely tucked beneath your hoodie. It’s such a cautious touch. You wish  he wasn’t just all talk. “Perhaps you’re easier to deal with when one considers you might actually like getting bossed around.”

There’s no hiding the erection that sits wedged between you. There’s no ignoring the heat that pools in your core every time it strains against your cunt, blocked only by his sweatpants and your underwear.

There’s no way he can’t feel your heart beat throbbing against him.

And yet — he pretends not to be taking part in any of it.

You think about it for a moment.

Then, you roll your hips forward, slowly, gently. Your nerves spark as your clit finds the pressure it needs against the underside of his cock.

It takes everything in your power to keep from doing it again.

A tiny shiver makes its way out of Zayne. Frustration, perhaps. You angle a knowing little smile at him, and his throat bobs. He knows he’s been caught.

Checkmate.

“Doctor Zayne, are you getting off on this?” You ask, and his face flushes scarlet. His eyes widen, caught off-guard by you finally crossing the threshold.

”I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He answers lamely, pointedly avoiding looking down.

“You are!”

“Not so loud. It’s n-… it’s nothing.” He insists in a hushed voice, shooting a look over your shoulder before he’s satisfied that the coast is clear of anyone who might be privy to what the two of you are doing. “Just a biological reaction to stimuli.”

“Which stimuli?” You ask, feigning curiosity. “The cuddling, or this?”

To stress your point, you do it again, biting back the swell of enjoyment at the way his lips part of their own accord. A little hum spills forth, and his own hips chase the motion, just for a second, before he halts.

“Please.” Zayne murmurs, moving to hold you still. Inching you back onto his thighs, condemning himself to reveal two little damp patches. One where the grey fleece of his sweatpants pulls most taut. The other a little lower, where you’ve been rubbing your cunt along his clothed shaft.

“You need to learn when you’ve teased enough.”

What — fall back? Now? When all your nerves are alight?

Your tongue wets your lips as you take in the sight of him. Well on his way to wrecked, but not quite there. His expression remains otherwise impassive, but his pupils are far too blown to help him maintain the facade.

“You’re one to talk. Can’t hack it when it’s not you in charge?” You challenge him. “You’re not usually one to shy away from uncharted territory.”

You can’t help but reach out, itching to touch him. Fingertips smooth along his length, feather-light from the bottom up. His cock twitches when you reach the tip, begging for more.

“Ah—“ Long fingers snatch at your wrist, holding you fast. “Try no man’s land.”

“It’s nothing.” You assure him. “You said it yourself.”

Nothing. No different to how he so often strays into treating you, with all his dates and touches. Nothing, midday naps and linking your pinky-fingers as you walk together. Nothing, like the spare clothes you both reserve a drawer for.

“Just warming you up. That’s all.”

Zayne’s chest expands. His gaze fixes on your fingertips curling insistently at his waistband despite his grip keeping you at bay. “That’s all.”

Disbelief? Determination? Disappointment? You’re not familiar enough with how each of these sound in his throat to properly identify it, but Zayne’s grip on your wrist releases nonetheless. He opts to help you make more comfortable work of his track pants, pushing them down just a little to allow you easier access. There’s no presence of approval at how greedy you are about it, pawing and snatching at your prize while he tries to remain nonchalant.

You do try to give him the dignity of privacy by not looking down when he settles and you finally wrap both hands around his cock. He’s already indignant as it is, and the rumble that vibrates deep in his chest as your fingers close around him isn’t helping.

Oh — maybe just a little tease.

“Hey.” You chide, grinning. His eyes crack open, just enough to narrow at you. “Don’t make it weird. I’m a professional.”

It earns you a scoff. Zayne’s fingers, settled on your thighs, give a retaliatory squeeze, thumbs pressing just hard enough into your adductors to skirt on discomfort. He watches you tense at the feeling, and sensing an opportunity to shift the attention back off himself, decides to squeeze harder.

You finally flinch with an “Ow!”, and the man smiles to himself. Mission accomplished. He lets go.

”You’re the professional? How many surgeries have you performed?”

”How many have you  performed?”

”…A lot, genius.”

“Didn’t you tell me that some of your worst patients are doctors themselves?”

“Your point being?”

There’s no point — at least not in arguing with him. He’s only trying to distract you. You shift over him, and his attitude dissolves. He leans back, maintaining as much distance as he can — or perhaps to watch, as you tug your underwear to the side — line yourself up — and sink down onto his cock.

Zayne’s chest expands, but he makes no noise. His eyes close. His lips part. A minor crease forms between his eyebrows. It might as well be a sob. You’d use such a reaction against him if you weren’t more concerned with suppressing your own, lest he catch you out. Your cunt burns from the sudden, full intrusion, and his diverted attention gives you the moment you need to grow accustomed to it.

Once you’ve gotten over the initial shock of the feeling, you brush any intrusive thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter if he’s one of your oldest and closest friends. It doesn’t matter if he’s your doctor. You were already squarely planted in conflict-of-interest territory the moment he took you on as a patient.

You try to ignore your own desire. Your body catches up with your actions quickly, igniting touch-starved nerves that you’ve long-fantasised him satisfying. Heat builds inside you at a nervous system realising you’re finally giving it what it wants, and it only screams for more. Of course you’ve wanted Zayne. You adore him, but he’s not the kind of man who could balance a friendship with benefits; if anything, he finds a way to be the inverse of such a thing. He gives you everything in the way of a relationship except sex, and with him steering so clear of crossing that boundary with you, you have to tread carefully.

As much as you want to, this is delicate.

“My point is: zip it and let me take care of you.” You manage.

Besides, its not like you’re actually having sex with him. He’s continually pushing the boundaries of platonic with all his touches and hugs anyway. It’s not like he has a leg to stand on if he wants to protest what sitting on his cock might mean for your relationship. Hell, this isn’t even the first time he’s been hard when you’ve had his hips pinned down with your own.

If anything, you’re doing the guy a favour by taking the responsibility off him to go this far.

Zayne doesn’t bounce back as quickly as you do. His eyes remain scrunched shut, his core engaged beneath your palms as you brace your weight to settle into a more comfortable position in his lap. He looks worried. Apprehensive.

“Doctor Zayne?” Concern begins to creep in, just a little. “Okay, you can say something now.”

“Please,” He grits between his teeth, and relief floods your body as some semblance of calm returns to his expression, “Don’t call me that — like this.”

“Like what? I’m just warming you up, remember?” You offer a smile when he opens one eye, mood shifting to quizzical.

“You’re so immature. And for the record, this constitutes malpractice. You’re a terrible doctor.”

”Trust the process.”

”Fine. What’s the course of treatment?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but chuckle at such quiet outrage. It’s getting easier to read him. Relaxing against his front, you ignore a little gasp on his part to loop your arms around his neck again. Dishonest pretences be damned, this really is doing the trick. “All you need to do is stay still.”

Zayne weighs up his options for only a moment before giving in. His arms slip around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder, just barely nuzzling into the crook of your neck. He’s breathing in your scent, and the following exhale into your skin has you stifling a shiver.

Then, there’s a flex within you.

“Hey!” You choke, “I said stay still back there!”

“Quiet down. It was only a reflex.” Zayne defends, a little too cavalier to fly under the radar. “Besides, I’m not the one squirming.”

“I’m just getting comfortable. Your hips are pointy.”

Zayne’s hips slot up into yours, and the feel of him nudging just a little deeper has your eyes stinging. You fail to stifle a little squeak, and you’re shushed for it immediately.

“Just getting comfortable.” Zayne’s words lick at your ear, and the sound of him sends shivers through you, pooling between your legs, pleading with you to satisfy the ever-nagging want to start riding him. “You’re like a vice.”

He has to know how much of an effect he has on you. There’s no way he doesn’t.

You don’t respond to his attitude — however, the condemning, responding, constricting  of your insides around his cock surely doesn’t go unnoticed, and with a hollow breath, he lifts you, just a little, enough to draw back and push back in. He’s slow about it; infuriatingly so, almost like if he inches in and out at enough of creeping pace you’ll either not bother to be strict with him, or you’ll simply abandon your own rules in favour of crossing the boundary he’s silently begging you to cross for him.

No. He’s not getting the upper hand here. Not when he gets to pretend all his little actions are forgettable. Platonic. Accidental. Misunderstood. There’s only so many times a guy can subtly grind on someone during a spooning session and claim ignorance when called out about it.

You lock your feet beneath his knees, and sink down onto him, hard. Pleasure blooms. Your cunt aches for more. A sharp breath escapes Zayne, threatening to blossom into an appreciative groan that would only serve to tempt you without your hand clapping over his mouth and a ‘shh!’.

“You can keep still, or this stops.” You announce in a whisper, and he watches you defiantly from behind your hand.

Zayne’s gaze eventually breaks away from yours. Conceding. For now, at least. You lower your hand from his mouth, and relax, reaching across the cushion to pluck your phone from the couch and check your messages.

Already, he’s bothered by your lack of undivided attention.

“You’re on your phone.”  He huffs.

“I’m not rewarding your behaviour.” You reply simply.

“You’re not implying that behaving differently would warrant a reward, are you?”

That’s for him to figure out.

You shift your weight maybe just a little more than you need to, indulging in the feeling of his cock shift with you, within you, pressing insistently against that one spot that almost has your constitution coming apart at the seams. Zayne trembles momentarily beneath you, swallowing hard. He’s keeping his cool well enough, but as you settle into the new angle, no longer moving, his frustration makes itself known with another twitch inside you.

If he keeps doing that, you’re not sure you can hold out.

“You really  think this is helping?” He asks, voice tight.

“You don’t believe me?” You pout, tapping your home screen and opening your camera app. “Fine, let the expert see for himself.”

Switching to selfie cam, you watch as the man glances at his image on the screen for half a second, before tearing his gaze away. Not a shocker, you reason. He’s probably never seen himself with a hair out of place. Flushed cheeks and dilated pupils? You might as well have shown him a traffic collision.

“Aw, come on. Look how much colour’s come back to your face.”

Zayne musters the courage to look up, but not at the phone. His eyes narrow at you. Accusatory. “I’m not interested in giving you blackmail material.”

“What? Get real. There’s nothing incriminating going on. Especially not when you angle it like this.” You switch on a filter and lean down into the man. “See?”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and his head tilts to get a better look at whatever scheme you’re cooking up. On the screen, both your flushed faces smooth out, blushing perfectly. Cat ears and whiskers. Cheek to cheek. Just another one of your countless selfies with completely platonic friends.

You take the shot. The shutter clicks.

“Cute.” Zayne mutters drily.

“You think so?”

“Only how much fun you seem to be having of it.”

Your brow knits. “Oh yeah? All right, stick in the mud, you take over.”

He gives too much away at that response. His long fingers immediately slip over your hips. He’s readying to flip you onto your back before he notices you’re holding the phone out to him. Then, knowing he’s shown his hand, he has no choice but to recover his pride.

Much to your chagrin, Zayne plucks the phone from your hand, aborting whatever miraculous step he’d been about to take. A corner of his mouth ticks, minutely. He angles your phone away from you, tapping and swiping. His own phone buzzes. Then, he casts the device at the other end of the couch, out of your reach. “I think it’s getting a bit late for screens.” He murmurs. Fingers smooth up and over the swell of your hips. His long arms uncoil from your waist, releasing you as he leans back. Leaving you with a lonesome chill.  “And you ought to be going to bed.”

Is that…rejection? Has he just been humouring you up until this point?

You tilt your head. “I’m sorry. Is this not okay?”

“This is fine.”

He looks at the fireplace. Stoic as ever.

“Then what?” You frown.

He doesn’t respond.

Your throat runs dry. Dread creeps up through your heart.

“Hey. Talk to me.” You urge, smoothing your fingers along his jaw, and he leans into your palm.

Seconds pass. Zayne finally regards you again. There’s an acknowledging incline of his head — almost a polite bow. A pre-emptive apology for what he’s about to say. 

“What happens after this?” He asks. “Do we part ways at the train station in the morning and the next time we see each other, it’ll be as doctor and patient?”

Oh.

“Is that what we are to you?” You ask, not entirely sure if you want to know.

He dodges the question the best way he knows how: with rationality. “I feel that if that scenario is what you want, we should say goodnight. My understanding of our relationship won’t change, I promise you, but if this goes further, at least one of us is going to feel differently. It would be better if there were no misunderstandings between us.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something dreadful and lovely all the same, anxiety and anticipation at the prospect of a tipping point, at least before saying goodbye. Trust Zayne, of course, to turn to smoke and mirrors when it comes to a confession of feelings, but you’ve known him long enough to see how far out of his comfort zone all of this is.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” You ask, aborting an attempt on his part to avert his gaze with a finger beneath his chin.

His expression remains inexplicable. Then, there’s that little tilt of his head. The quirk of an eyebrow. “Your assumption is correct.”

The apprehension that’s been building in the back of your mind disperses the moment he says it. Your resolve all but disappears.  “My understanding,” You begin, reaching up to cup your hand over the other side of his face, “is that I’ve wanted you ever since I walked into that restaurant last year.”

Zayne doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds yours in a heartbeat. Previously unsure hands pull you against him, locking you in his embrace. He’s so awfully gentle about it all despite your combined strength. Such a gentleman. It comes as no surprise that he shudders at the intrusion of your tongue past his lips — what does surprise you is how quickly he catches up to your pace. Inviting you in. Slipping an arm lower to brace your weight, and you feel yourself being pulled up off of his cock, just until only the head remains at your entrance. 

The loss of him has you incensed. He keeps you from sinking back down, and your protesting whines are suffocated with another kiss. All he’s left you with to express yourself is your hands, and you seize the opportunity, combing your fingers through his hair and tugging, just slightly at the roots.

He breaks away with a little noise. Not pained, but shocked. Another one of his spots, you reason, and he’s just as displeased that you’ve found it. 

“You don’t know when to quit.” Zayne pants. His fringe dusts your forehead. “What — what were we saying about bad behaviour going unrewarded?”

You’re too mindless right now to play any games. There’s no more thrill of the build that you can handle. Not after this long. 

You break, instantly. 

“Please —“ You whimper, almost trembling in his grip, trying in vain to take him back in again. “Zayne, I need it — please—“

Zayne relents right away. He gives you what you want, lowering you, burying himself in you to the hilt. Then he lifts you again, building into a steady rhythm.

”You’re so — you’re so frustrating.” He manages between kisses. “Should’ve told me this is all it takes for you to do as you’re told.”

More. You need more. Heavenly as it is, it’s not enough, just having him in you. You push back, and Zayne takes the hint. He’s said his piece. He lets you take the lead again without a fight, admiring the view as you roll onto the balls of your feet, gripping the back of the couch to keep yourself stable. The new angle feels deeper, each stroke rolling drifting sharply over your nerves as he brushes that spot inside you. It takes a moment for Zayne to kick into gear, brain short-circuiting as he watches you squat on his cock, taking what you need from him. Then, he leaves you to support your own weight. Fingers wrench at the front of your hoodie, yanking it up to your sternum, and his tongue sweeps a nipple. In the time it takes for you to react, his other hand has snaked between you, between your legs. His thumb rolls over your clit just as he latches onto your nipple and sucks. The keen barely escapes your lips before Zayne’s hand claps over your mouth, continuing his assault. 

It goes from too little to too much. It creeps up on you so fast, so suddenly, and there’s nothing you can do but ride through it. A muffled hum is all the warning you can give him. Your pace staggers as the burn in your thighs catches up to you, but Zayne only goes faster, rubbing merciless little circles into your nerves. His hips roll up into you, compensating as best he can for your loss of control. Finally, the band snaps, and you sob against his hand, spasming around him, tears pricking at your eyes with the intensity of it all. You go positively boneless, and Zayne breaks away just enough to let you collapse into his chest as he carries you through it, breaths quickening as the lingering spasms of your orgasm invoke his own. 

“Fuck, I’m—“ He barely stammers, releasing you only to coil his arms around your torso again, readying to pull out.

“Not going anywhere.” You promise, clinging to him. Your fingers comb through his hair, tugging again, and a whimper dies in Zayne’s throat. He buries his face into the crook of your neck. His hips roll up into you once, twice, thrice more, and then he goes still. Buried in you to the hilt as he tips into oblivion.

He’s so subtle about it that you barely even realise he’s coming. Maybe it’s the effort not to wake Dr. Noah. Maybe it’s like this every time. Having him hold you with such desperate reverence while he does his best not to judder in stark contrast to to the feeling of him pulsing within you, you reason you’d like to find out. He hides his face from you throughout, only pulling his forehead from your clavicle when the aftershocks have come and gone.

Zayne looks lovelier than ever like this — coming out of a blissful haze, gazing up at you with cautious adoration. His focus flickers between your eyes and your lips. His chest expands and collapses like he’s like a 5-miler, but his breaths are smooth.

Even now, he’s trying to maintain a cool composure.

“Forgive me.” He mutters, not quite meeting your eye.

Your head tilts. Chasing him. “Huh? Why?”

“I exercised poor judgement. That was rotten of me. I should have known better, given I’ve never prescribed birth control to you.”

“You really think I’d come to you for birth control?” You snort.

Zayne’s brow creases. An incredulous look totally undermined by how positively wrecked he looks right now. “I am  your physician. Or has your other doctor friend decided to become real after all?”

Your fingers comb through his hair again. Despite a pleasant sigh on his part at the sensation, his expression remains steeled.

“Hey.” You finally manage to capture his gaze, only for any tells to evaporate. “Could you tell me something?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Are you more jealous that I might have had sex with someone who wasn’t you, or that I might have gone to another doctor?”

Zayne considers his answer for a long moment. His head tilts in that particular way it does when he has to make a decision, eyeing you expectantly. Punishment for daring to push him out of his comfort zone.

He presses a hand to your forehead. 

A thoughtful hum escapes him.

“Curious. Your temperature’s dropping. On second thought, you should stay another day so I can observe you.”

“You’re avoiding the question!”

“Here. I’ll keep you warm. You can install those camera filters on my phone to pass the time.”

[junicult]

Could you write about what it’s like when the bachelors and the farmer decide to try for a baby? Either the conversation they have about it or when they actually TRY 😉. Or both… No pressure tho! I love your work!

!! trying for a baby with the bachelors.

contains ; fem!farmer. nsfw! fluffff <33. talk of children / pregnancy. mostly talk, not much smut. some smut in harvey’s, sam’s, & alex’s. farmer wears a dress. breeding kink. not proofread! i’ll add more tags later & i apologize this is a bit rushed :,

harvey.

- alright so i basically talked all abt this on my last post,

- but i’ll happily elaborate further.

- first of all, this man dreams of being a father.

- he’s always wanted to be one, and may i just say he’d be the best father?? hello???

- if u don’t agree ur lying.

- so i wanna say the topic of children was first brought up when you were only dating.

- “would you ever want to have kids one day?” you ask, and it wasn’t so blunt that he was blindsided, but he was still a little taken aback by the question.

- standing next to you in his kitchen, mixing breakfast on the stove while you sat on the counter.

- he only looks at you for a sec, because ever the overthinker he is, he’s afraid he’ll say the wrong thing.

- “yes, i do. one day.” he feels the need to specify, before looking back down at the pan to avoid eye contact.

- he doesn’t see your smile, or the way you softly chuckle at his action.

- “me too. one day.”

- and now he feels beyond excited. so excited that he starts to grin without even realizing it.

- i feel like that’s as far as the conversation went for now, you changing the topic to breakfast and starting to get plates together while he displayed it all.

- but ofc the thought would always stay in the back of his mind.

- bc now, when you’re married and it’s actually clear that you would want him to be the father of your child, it’s easier to have the conversation without feeling worried abt rejection. for him, at least.

- i feel like it happens one night after work, and you’re both a little exhausted and just want to be together.

- ur all clean and full after showering and eating together, just spending time w one another before u finally finish up ur tiring day in bed.

- “do you want to try for a baby?” you ask.

- my fav part abt all of this is that u always ask at the most unexpected times.

- but he’s not as shocked this time around, cus he was literally thinking the same thing.

- “do you want to?” lmfao.

- “i do. i think we’re ready.”

- say no more, cus he’s absolutely ready.

- i mean, he’s literally been ready for the last like 15 years of his life so…yeah.

- i mentioned this my last post, but i’m gonna say it again. to really get the message across.

- ur married to a doctor. ur abt to try for a baby with a DOCTOR.

- ur not just gonna fuck until you make a baby. unfortunately 😞

- he’s gonna help you figure out ur ovulation schedule. and if you aren’t for a while, obviously you’re not just gonna stop having sex, but you’re not going to be actively trying as hard until you’re ovulating.

- and when u finally aarreee 😊😊😊

- tehehehe.

- imagine he comes home from spending like the entire day in the clinic, and he’s so tired and all he wants to do is be with you.

- like he’s literally spent the last three or so hours thinking about burying his face in the crook of your neck and just holding you.

- so picture his excitement when you finished up your work super quick, made dinner, and you tell him ur ovulating liikkeeeee.

- suddenly he’s forgotten all about his annoying day.

- his arms wrap around your waist, lifting you ever so slightly to meet his height while your lips are already molded together.

- try to tell me he wouldn’t lift u bridal style to take u to the bedroom. just try.

- hands softly running up and down your body underneath your layers of clothes, kisses trailing down to your neck and collar while he piece by piece helps you out of them.

- “love these lips, these cheeks, these ears,” he whispers all the while emphasizing each feature with a kiss.

- he’s so handsy, and he won’t let you hear the end of his praise.

- prep prep prep prep prepppppps you.

- he’s so grateful to be able to have you like this, ofc he’s going to make the most of it.

- plus, statistically, a female orgasm increases the chances of pregnancy.

- it wouldn’t hurt to up the chances by giving you a few, now would it?

sam.

- for sam, being a father wasn’t really something he spent so much time dwelling on.

- like, it’d just be a passing thought in his mind before he fell asleep,

- occasionally wondering what it’d be like to have a wife and kids, but not something he’d want to act on for at least a few years.

- he never found himself thinking about that kind of stuff, until he met you.

- and sure, you were both young, but the more he spent time with you, the longer he fell in love with you, the thought would continue to pop up way more often.

- he started to really think about it after seeing you interact with vincent.

- how his little brother would come running into your arms the minute you knocked on the door, excitedly latching onto you as his way of saying hello.

- “hey kiddo, how’s it been?” as if you didn’t see him literally yesterday.

- but that doesn’t matter, bc the way you ruffle his hair, entertaining his all-over-the-place conversation without even a hint of annoyance—makes sam feel all sputtery inside.

- it’s like vincent would be your main priority until he finished up telling you whatever it was he wanted you to know, and then you’d turn and greet your boyfriend with a small kiss on the cheek.

- like sam was secondary to the rest of his family, bc not to mention, you were also a sweetheart to jodi.

- vincent absolutely adored you. he’d always bother sam about you, asking when you’d come over or if he could tag along on your dates.

- i feel like his breaking point (if u will) was when he came home from work one day to see all three of you in his kitchen.

- his mom was teaching you how to make some special dish, and you had vincent propped on your back so he could watch.

- “sorry! i forgot you were working today but jodi just told me to wait here, and we kinda lost track of time.” you justify, face pinching in worry at his silence.

- that’s the exact moment it all clicked for him.

- he stayed dreadfully quiet while jodi finished up teaching you, and each moment you were growing increasingly worried.

- it wasn’t until you finally had alone time, and you immediately started gushing apologies when you stepped into his room.

- “i’m so sorry, sam, i didn’t mean to make it awkward for you, but your mom wanted to show me something and i was excited to learn and i dunno, i just forgot about—“

- “i wanna get married to you.”

- gn.

- you just blink back in awe, unsure of how to respond bc WHAT a bomb to drop rn.

- “…you do?”

- “so bad. i love you so much, i really want to be your husband.”

- so of course you ask him, “where is this coming from? i thought you were mad at me?”

- he just cups his hands on your cheeks, shaking his head. “are you kidding? how could i ever be mad at you spending time with my family?”

- and when he realizes you didn’t say anything, he goes all quiet and he’s like, “…do you wanna marry me?”

- duh.

- and so the topic of kids doesn’t follow long after, when you both mutually agree you want them, but at least not for a while.

- neither of u act on it until like a year after u get married.

- “vincent was asking about you. says he misses you and wants us to come over for dinner soon.” sam says, recapping his day while you wash your body beside him.

- btw, i like to think he waits until whenever u need to shower to shower with u.

- why? idk.

- anyways,

- “i’ll go visit him tomorrow. i miss the little guy,” you giggle.

- for him, he misses the way he’d see you interact with his little brother. how sweet, and kind you were. how you’d always include him in things, and despite him being a child, you didn’t really treat him as one.

- sure, you knew better then to say certain things around him, but when it came to all of you being in the same room together, you made sure he wasn’t forgotten about.

- he knows you’d be a great mother.

- “i wish we had a baby.” he blurts, a little frown on his face as he rinses the soap out of his hair.

-“really?”

- it’s not like it’s a foreign topic, but it’s still a little unexpected.

- “yeah! they’d have your hair and my eyes. with your cheeks, and cute nose.”

- he’s so cute i’m sobbing.

- you can’t help but grin at him as he goes on about how many kids he wants, and what they’d be named, and how they’d look.

- “yeah, i know vincent has jas but how cool would it be if he had another little buddy in town?”

- “i didn’t think you wanted kids yet?”

- “well, that was a year ago. we just haven’t really talked about it since.” he shrugs, and you can’t help but kiss his cute, rosy cheek.

- so from now on, ur gonna try for a baby🫡

- it’s definitely not as thought out as harvey.

- yeah, u guys are just gonna fuck until it works LMAO.

- but dare i say, you’ve never enjoyed sex like this.

- you’re all hot and sweaty, naked, hair clinging to your neck and staggered breaths all over his lips.

- “nggh, fuck, sam—feels s’good…” moaning into his mouth while he does the same, hips meeting yours at a eye-rolling pace.

- he’s already came twice, hardly enough energy to even bring himself to a third but yet somehow, here he is, fucking into you like he knows no better.

- and he won’t stop sputtering just pure filth in your ear,

- “mmgh—y’so pretty, so perfect. you’d make the prettiest babies.” “what are you doing to me? nnfuck, feels so, so good…”

- your fingers are feathered through his hair, arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

- you’re already so sensitive and overstimulated by the time he cums. you both are.

- so while he catches his breath, he’s holding you close and staying buried to the hilt inside of u.

shane.

- :,).

- i feel like it’s his little secret that he’s always wanted to be a father.

- but he never thought it’d happen for him.

- and after he met you, first of all he was shocked you liked him back.

- and as time progressed, and you’ve helped with his alcohol addiction, he’s really found that he fell in love with you.

- spending all this time together, despite you being so busy.

- you always make a way to fit him into your schedule, whether it be he comes over and helps you with some of your chores, or you meet him at the saloon.

- but as time progressed, and you were both were absolutely infatuated with each other, he couldn’t stop thinking about marrying you.

- but more importantly…having kids with you.

- i think, generally, he wants to be a good father, which is why he’s always kinda wanted kids.

- he wants to try to be there for his child, and wants to laugh with them, help them when they need it, watch them grow up and stuff.

- he wants to be able to nurture someone in a way he wasn’t really able to do for himself.

- but also, he’s a little possessive🤷‍♀️

- it’s sick, and gross, but the idea of you walking around with a pretty, swollen belly and everyone gets to know he did that. well.

- and he just knows you’d be the most amazing mom. with how you care for your animals, and you’re such a hard-worker…he’s gonna lose his mind.

- so yeah, despite him thinking about it constantly, you’re still the first to bring it up.

- “…can we talk about something?”

- instantly, he’s nervous. he feels like ur gonna break up with him or something.

- “a-about what?”

- you’re in the middle of washing dishes, so you use that as an excuse to avoid eye contact.

- since you’ve been dating for many months now, long past the point of exchanging “i love you”‘s and even closer to the inevitable possibility of marriage.

- but to make it this far and find out he doesn’t want children like you do, well that would be the most painful way to end things.

- “what are your thoughts on…like…kids?”

- he blinks.

- “kids?”

- “yeah, kids. like…children.”

- he’s quietly scratching the back of his head, trying not to let confusion paint across his face but yet here he is, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted.

- “i—i dunno. they’re pretty…cool? i guess? i like them…”

- he’s just staring at you, trying to read your expression in any way to figure out what the hell u are bringing this up for.

- he’s even more confused when you just nod instead of giving him an answer.

- “is that all you wanted to talk about?”

- it takes u another like 5 minutes to finally swallow your fear, and flicker your gaze to him.

- “no, i just…well i wanted to know if you’d ever be interested in, like, having kids….of your own—in the future! not now, or, whatever.”

- he thinks ur so cute.

- the way you’re purposely angling your chin down to hide your face, and despite the fact that you’ve already cleaned the same plate like seven times, you still continue to scrub it.

- he has half a mind to laugh a little, but he knows that’s only make you feel more nervous. so he just smiles quietly to himself, looking at you.

- “hmm, having kids?” he sighs, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms like he’s in deep thought to agonize you teasingly.

- “well, considering i have jas in my life, yeah. kids aren’t so bad.”

- the puppy-dog look you give him finally has him chuckling.

- “you’d want kids?”

- “yeah, someday. but you know, having kids is kind of a two person job.“

- now it’s your turn to giggle, fixing your gaze back towards a new dish you grab to clean.

- “oh, is it?”

- “mhm. they’re hiring, too. but not just anyone can apply.”

- “what’re the requirements?”

- he gently wraps his arms around your waist, pressing against your back and lowering to rest his chin on your shoulder.

- “hmm, we’ll they’re looking for someone who’s perfect.” he presses a kiss to your cheek. “have i told you you’re perfect?”

sebastian.

- much like sam, he didn’t really spend time thinking about fatherhood.

- it wasn’t something he dwelled on hardly, if not ever.

- he had other things to focus on, and unfortunately he didn’t really think that’d ever be a part of his future.

- and it didn’t change right when he met you.

- he really liked you for a long time before anything even progressed (nerves, i guess?)

- but eventually, you were steadily a very good couple.

- spending lots of time together, going on dates (more like ponder sessions by the rivers and beach but whatever) and just overall the early stages of falling in love.

- he’d come visit at the farm and wouldn’t leave for days. even when he told himself he needed to, it’d take him so long to actually leave.

- he spent so much time thinking about you too, that of course his mind began to wander.

- what would marriage be like, first of all.

- it didn’t take long before he decided he liked that thought. coming home to you every day, waking up with you by his side.

- his city dreams weren’t so important to him anymore. not if it meant leaving you behind.

- now, as for children,

- he didn’t spend much time thinking about it for a while. it was mostly just a passing thought in his mind.

- kinda like sam, you two definitely discussed it before getting married but it was a short, “if we decide we want to someday,” and that was about it.

- i feel like sebastian is a little possessive, too.

- he loves the fact that he’s married to you now. that he’s legally tied to you and he has a reason for wanting you all to himself some days.

- the longer you two were married, however, he had to get used to his mom’s constant remarks.

- “you know, i did build a nursery in her house, sebby. just something to think about.” robin grins in passing convo.

- which he can’t help but cringe at what his mom is implying, but he guesses she has a point.

- so as he got older, he started to think about having kids a lot more.

- because, yes, being married to him does kinda scream off limits.

- but wouldn’t having a child be even a much better indicator?

- how there’s actual living proof that sebastian is yours and you are his.

- yeah, he’s gonna be thinking about it a lot.

- “honey, are you okay? you’ve been really quiet today.” you wonder softly, wrapping your arms around his back where he laid with his face pressed against your chest.

- you know that sometimes he just likes to be alone, and it has nothing to do with you, it’s just his own personal preference.

- but he’s not usually like this. clingy, latched onto you tight while he’s lost in his thoughts.

- “hm? oh, yeah i’m fine baby. don’t worry.”

- you frown at his vagueness. “you can tell me anything. need me to step out? i don’t mind, sebby.”

- he loves u sm.

- “no! no, it’s nothing like that,” he even accentuates by squeezing you a little tighter, “i’ve just…been thinking.”

- “about…?”

- you feel him shrug, but he moves his face to bury into the crook of your neck, so you can’t see him.

- “i dunno, just like…us. i guess.”

- 😑

- “…okay…”

- and now ur kind like, sitting up to move away from him, and he’s not having that.

- he frowns, once again tightening his hold on you and burying himself deeper.

- “nothing bad, i promise.” he murmurs into you.

- “then what is it?”

- you never want to pressure him to tell you what’s on his mind, but when he’s like this, you feel like you deserve to know a little.

- he only answers with hesitation, taking long enough before you frown and squint your eyes down at him.

- “sebastian, if y—“

- “i wanna have a baby.”

- lol.

- now it gets real quiet.

- you freeze, hand pausing midway through his hair. you can almost feel the significant change in the atmosphere.

- “…what?”

- “i know we haven’t really talked about it lately, i just think it’s something we should talk about.”

- he keeps his face hidden away from yours, despite you attempting to look down at him.-

- but, if he was looking at you, he’d be able to see the smile on your plump cheeks, and how you were suddenly wrapping your legs around his torso.

- “i was thinking the same thing.”

alex.

- okay, so for this one,

- i feel like it’d be 50/50.

- one half of me says he���d never want kids.

- he saw the man his father grew up to be, and he despises him because of it.

- it scarred him enough to mess with his relationships with past women, definitely gave him commitment issues for a long while.

- so he never wanted to be a father. he can’t picture himself as one.

- but the other half of me says the opposite.

- he’s a man, who knows what it’s like to live with an abusive, absent father.

- and despite him still being kind of young, he couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d never treat his child, or even his wife like how his father did.

- almost like he’d want to prove people wrong.

- like, not all men end up like his father. most of them can actually become loving, supportive fathers and husbands.

- that’s the side of him i like to think abt most 😇

- but, i do wanna say though, when he met you, he didn’t really think that deeply about you.

- sure, he really liked you and how sweet you are. you’d always spend time with him, and make him feel better whenever he was down.

- most importantly, however, you weren’t shy to put him in his place if he ever said anything offhanded.

- you taught him a lot, and that’s when he really started to fall for you.

- it didn’t take long to confess his feelings. he likes being bold like that, and rejection doesn’t scare him.

- after you told him you reciprocated, he was instantly excited to call you his girlfriend.

- evelyn and george already loved you, (maybe evelyn a little more openly,) so accepting you into the family was a very easy task.

- he’d talk about you constantly. he’d find any opportunity to steer the conversation to you, and run with it for as long as they’d let him.

- and don’t get me started whenever he’s with you.

- he may act all tough, and above-it all the time, but i can promise you:

- whenever you’re alone, he’s just a big baby.

- smushing his face into your chest, wrapping his arms and legs around you so he could take a nap.

- and he loves when you’d lay like that, brushing your fingers through his hair and telling him about you day so he can just listen to your voice.

- now, that being said: i feel like he’s not scared to talk about wanting children with you.

- it was probably a conversation early on in your relationship, he just steered clear from stating he’d like you to be the mother of his child.

- “yeah, i’d love to have kids one day. babies love me!” kinda thing.

- and the longer you two were dating, and the more serious and committed it became, he was all for letting you know what was really on his mind.

- “you’d be the most perfect mom. our kids would be so smart, and gentle. plus, with our ridiculously good looks—unbeatable.” he grins, pop kissing all over your face as wraps his arms around you.

- behind your fit of giggles, you can’t help but counter, “please, alex, i need get back to work!”

- and he’s reluctantly sending you off to do your job, spending the rest of his hours making himself busy at home until he can repeat it all over again when you finish up at night.

- despite him talking and thinking about it so often, much like the rest of the guys he won’t act on it until you’re actually married.

- probably like a month after you get married he brings it up, but not like he used to.

- “hmm, what do you say about making a baby, pretty?” his fingertips slide through your hair, cupping the side of your face.

- he can’t help but place one calloused hand to your bare stomach, pressing down just slightly to watch the way your eyes pinch and lips part.

- his hips were stilled, cock buried deep inside of you after minutes of teasing you.

- “nngh? whaa—“ you’re hardly coherent, head lulling into his palm the moment he begins his slow drags in and out of you.

-“aww, you’d look so pretty carrying my kids, dontcha think? let’s make it happen baby, please?” “we wanna baby, right? c’mon, we’re ready. now’s perfect.”

- he’s gently nipping at your cheek, kissing down your jaw and neck to hear you whine on top of the way he’s pressing against you.

- “c-can’t, t’much,” you whimper, eyes rolling the minute his hips snap and his pace quickens.

- “yes you can, i know you can.” his voice is breathless and low in your ear, “why don’t you let me cum inside, hm?”

- his sweet gaze has your head spinning, lower lip puckered and wobbling.

- you’re so overstimulated even the slightest movement has your body twitching, throat swelling.

- yet somehow, you’re still bringing yourself to nod slowly while he grins above you.

- “yeah, knew you’d like that.”

elliot.

- he’s absolutely ready to be a father.

- it probably didn’t become something he actually dwelled on until he got older, but yeah, he’s absolutely ready.

- when he met you, not to say it was love a first sight but…

- it was love at first sight.

- he quickly became well acquainted with you, and spent much time with you.

- whether you were at his cabin, or he came to visit your farm, it didn’t matter.

- it didn’t take long before you started dating and fell in love.

- he’d find himself thinking about you at his desk instead of writing.

- or lying awake at night, missing you beside him and eagerly awaiting the morning when he could go and see you.

- he’d spend so much time picturing what it’d be like to have you as his wife and mother of his children.

- the topic of kids was definitely early on.

- “i’d want three. two girls and a boy. he’d be the youngest.” he hums, taking a bite out of a pomegranate you had just given him a few minutes beforehand.

- “yeah? three, huh?”

- he smiles, nodding.

- “well y’know, if she didn’t want three, then i’m fine with however many.”

- you were sitting on the foot end of his bed, while he sat beside you.

- “hmm, no, three is fine. i’m sure she wouldn’t mind three.”

- “you think?” he licks the fruit juice off his thumb behind his grin, before leaning back against the headboard.

- “oh, i know.”

[sehodreams]

Pathetic people also fall in love

WC: 7.3K (I’m so sorry it feels like with every fic I write more)

S: Eunseok is busy enough with his life, he has an 8-year-old daughter and is overworked at his job, he didn’t need to add another thing to that list, so when he puts the unused room in his house for rent, he expects his life to become easier, not to wonder why his tenant is so hot!

TW and Tags: Singledad!Landlord!Eunseok x Tenant!Plussize!reader, aged up Eunseok for the story, all consensual, mutual pining, smut, p in v, use of condom (poor Eunseok is traumatized after his first daughter), fingering, mentions of dacryphilia, fluff (I think near the end, if you don’t think so please let me know and I’ll erase it from here), they’re just two losers falling in love.

Comment: Hey guys, sorry for not having post much lately, this was actually first a Sungchan fic because an anon asked me for a Singledad!Sungchan, but while writing I thought wth this is my baby Eunseok and changed it. I want to clarify that this is not dark at all, so be careful if you go through my other fics because most of them are, I’m all soft since 119, still hope you like it!

You were the best tenant anyone could ask for, and Eunseok knew that, so why was he acting as if he was desperate to drive you away?

When you moved to the room next to him in his house he had his doubts, you were younger than him, which usually meant problems, like drunk boys out of his house throwing up on his flowers at midnight, or loud music when he tried to work, but he needed the money and the extra help, and when he interviewed you, you were relatively fine, a young girl that moved away for school and was more than eager to help around for a significant discount on her rent.

You were so fresh, a 22 year old student with the character of an older sister, and he liked that, you always paid your rent on time and made cookies on friday night instead of going out, you also took care of his daughter when he needed to go out in an emergency at work, only asking for some food when he came back, so you were a good girl and the best tenant.

He couldn't lie to himself, he liked you a lot, which made him feel pretty much guilty, because you were just a sweet young thing who hadn't discovered how the world worked, while he, even if he was still young at his 27 years, had gone through everything in a rush, from heartbreak to disappointment and frustration, perfectly knowing he shouldn't look at you the way he did.

He had too many responsibilities to let himself be swayed your way, he had an 8 year old daughter, an overworking job and too many things on his shoulders, and your presence had started to bring him problems, especially at night, when he dreamed of fingering you in the kitchen before breakfast to thank you for making his coffee, or you receiving him in the entrance wearing nothing but an apron with flour stains, and after you gave him a taste of your freshly baked cookies, he dropped to his knees to taste something even better.

He dreamed all that and woke up feeling more tired than when he went to sleep, and with a painful boner that wouldn't leave him alone until he came over the bathroom titles when he took his quick morning shower, thinking of you with him there, taking his length like the good girl you were.

He couldn't look at your face when you said good morning, the guilt making him blush to his ears, wishing he could go back in time and not let his impulses win over him, because he was sure you would feel repulsed if you ever found out what he thought about you.

For you, he was just your landlord, the older guy with a daughter that worked in a restaurant and brought you leftover pasta every now and then, nothing more, and he had to come around that.

But you made it so hard, making breakfast with your pajama shorts and the thin t-shirts that showed your beautiful nipples, bending down with that gorgeous ass when you pulled the tray out of the oven, or with the sound of you vibrator that woke him up at 2 am, with your little moans going through his wall and making him gulp before he decided to wait for you to cum to go back to sleep.

He could help you, he thought that every time he heard you, he could walk the five steps to your room and fuck you like you deserved, nasty and rough, telling you how good you acted that day, making his favorite dish for breakfast, or playing with his daughter until he came back home, "Such a good girl, don't you want to be my little wife? Such a sweet thing should cum over a real dick every night".

His cheeks became red, he shouldn't be thinking that, not before work where he could do nothing to soothe the need.

He rushed to the door, with his coffee cup in one hand and his daughter backpack in the other, she was already waiting for him in the entrance when you ran to them, were you going to give him a goodbye kiss? He wished.

"I made too many of them yesterday, take them for lunch" you gave him a paper bag with two muffins, he felt the sweet aroma of them through the bag and his eyes followed your lips when you talked again, "I already put one in her lunchbox, these are just for you".

He wanted to kiss you so bad, he didn't care that your hair was still ruffled from your night, or that you weren't wearing any makeup at all, he thought you looked fucking gorgeous in that moment, and he wanted to kiss you to say thank you, thank you for being so good, thank you for treating his daughter with care, thank you for everything you do for him even when you didn't need to.

"Okay" he said, and left.

"Okay?" Sungchan asked when he arrived at work and told him what he did.

"Okay" Eunseok passed his hand through his hair, exhausted with everything, with his 10-hour shift, his daughter telling him she missed him, and his body not being able to sleep properly because it needed his tenant.

"What an asshole, that sweet thing just gave you two of the best muffins in the world for free, she made your coffee and helped you get your daughter ready for school, and you say 'okay', not even a 'thank you'? Man, if I was her, I'd leave your pathetic ass immediately, doesn't matter how cheap the rent is" he grabbed one of the little pastries and was about to eat it when Eunseok snatched it from his hand.

"Mine" he said and walked away, making Sungchan scoff.

He didn't meant to be so cold, it was like his body was in survival mode, trying to save his feelings from getting hurt before he even got a chance to do something about them, it'd be too uncomfortable if things didn't work out, you were precious for him, and he didn't want to lose you, but if he kept acting like that, he wasn't just going to drive you off, but you'd hate him in the process, and he couldn't deal with the thought of you hating him, not like that.

That night, when he arrived from his shift, he brought pizza and your favorite drink.

He left them in the counter and walked to his daughter's room, the house was in silence, his daughter already sleeping in her bed and after giving her a good night kiss, he searched for you, you were nowhere sight, so you must be in your room, right?

When he knocked no one answered, where could you be?

You came out of the bathroom seconds later, with just a towel wrapping your body, your tits were overflowing from the grip it did to not fall and he couldn't help but watch you from head to toe, your uncovered shoulders, your soft thighs, even your pretty feet with red nail polish.

"Hey Eunseok, you're early today" you proceeded to tell him about what his daughter had for dinner and how she was sleeping already, and that you were waiting for him before you went out. Almost everything got lost in his ear, he was too busy watching your back and the drops falling down your neck.

"I brought pizza" was the only thing he could say.

"Thank you, I'll eat it after I come back" you closed your door before he could say anything more and, not knowing what else to do, walked to his room.

He looked himself in his mirror, his boner was showing in the reflection and his face was red, he really had a problem, so he took care of it while listening your soft voice singing on the other side of the wall, feeling like a pervert when he finished over his hand.

He changed his clothes for something more comfortable and went to the kitchen to eat a slice of pizza before bed, he was tired and even if he came back earlier than normal, his body was exhausted from all the nights without sleeping well.

He was just finishing his portion when you walked down, looking like a fucking angel ready to take him to the afterlife.

You were wearing a white flowy short dress, showing your beautiful curves and the full of your chest through the cleavage that made you look even more angelic.

But where were you going dressed like that? It couldn't possibly be...

Your phone sounded before he could ask and you ran to open the door, a skinny boy with long black hair was there, waiting for you with the worst resting bitch face he had ever seen, so different from your excited ear to ear grin, "Hi Wonbin" you said with your pretty smile, and he only gave an acknowledged nod in response. Asshole, he thought.

He couldn't say anything to stop you from going out, to scream how you were his and how that lanky boy couldn't give you what he could, he wouldn't appreciate you like he already did, because he didn't know how special and amazing you really were.

Eunseok, still in the same place, heard the door close and then a car starting outside, driving away.

He felt fucking pathetic looking at you smile to another man and leaving the house with someone like him, but maybe that little boy was better than him, even if he didn't like the thought, he could be younger than him, and not have a daughter, just a normal boy for his age, without the weight of thinking about the future, because he didn't have anyone who depended on his actions, just himself.

He closed the pizza box and grabbed a beer, such a pathetic loser, he told himself, having the girl he wanted so close and stopping himself from getting her, blaming his circumstances instead of the reality of him being a coward.

The night felt longer than usual, he used to think that nights didn't have enough hours to rest, and now, with you outside, he thought it felt endless.

He just needed you back home, to know where you were, and what you were doing, with him steps away, to know you were safe.

Hours passed and when the eleven-news started and some traffic accident showed on the screen, he heard a car park out of his place, recognizing your steps to the door. When you opened the door he saw you alone, with a sad look and your pretty hair different from when you went out, as if you tried to brush it with your fingers to look put together before you walked in. His blood wanted to boil at the thought of him touching a single strand of your hair, but he was too preoccupied with your face, what could've happened in your date for you to arrive like that? Was he the jerk he appeared to be? He knew that boy didn't deserve you, but at the same time he wished he was wrong.

"Welcome back" Eunseok said, giving you a small smile. You dropped your purse to the floor when you saw him, looking too exhausted to reciprocate the awkward greeting smile. He felt bad for you, you continued with the disappointed air all over you and he didn't know what to do to cheer you up, "there's still pizza in the kitchen".

You denied his offer, walking to the couch he was sitting, letting your body fall on the other side of it, leaving a big space between you.

You watched the news together for a couple of minutes, in total silence. He understood you didn't feel like talking, you went out after such a long time, getting all dolled up with a dress he had never seen you wear before and such uncomfortable shoes. You almost never went out like that, more into comfortable loose clothes, and around the house you never used make up. He still saw you gorgeous though, but Eunseok was different, he thought that when you had your hair up in a ponytail while cooking, or when you left his daughter use her toy makeup on you, and he loved to see you wearing that swimsuit when you played on the child pool with her, your tummy showing through the clothing and your full chest covered with a top that wasn't your size, it couldn't be your size, he swore that because every time you used it your tits were too much for it and the fabric was hanging on for its life over your body, which to be honest, was incredible hot for him.

And you did all that for a boy that couldn't even walk you to your door at the end of the date, he can't imagine what else did he do that night to make you come back home with such a disappointed look.

"How was the date?" He asked and sipped his can of beer, trying to appear nonchalant, like he didn't care, but he was dying to hear about it.

"It wasn't what I expected" you answered while taking off your high heels, he saw a little blister forming on your feet and he wanted to grab them and give them a well-deserved massage, he was dying to do something for you, but he shouldn't, so he did the only thing he thought would comfort you without him touching you, he passed you his beer for you to take a sip, which you did, you grabbed it and drank a big gulp of it, looking a bit more refreshed after, making him feel good with his choice. "He made me pay for the movie tickets" you continued.

Eunseok opened his mouth, not believing what you told him, he knew the boy was going to be a jerk, but to such extent?

"Yeah, I know" you said when you saw his surprised expression, making you laugh but from embarrassment. "I... I didn't know how to say no, we were already in the que, and I thought that maybe it wouldn't be that bad, maybe it was going to be just that and then he'd pay for the popcorn, I-I don't know what I was thinking"

Of course you knew what you were thinking. You didn't go out with him for the movie, you wanted to get laid, and he was the only one who had offered to go out with you after so long, you didn't have another choice.

You weren't an easy girl, you knew you deserved more, but since you had moved to Eunseok's house you felt more and more needy, praying every day for him to not notice how your thighs clenched when he was around you, or how you touched yourself when he took care of his flowers under the sun, the sweaty look of him was too much for you to contain himself, and you had fallen for various reasons, how he always took a few of his precious creations to decorate your room, how he always brought you your favorite pasta when it was on the daily menu of his restaurant, even how he made sure you were always comfortable around him and his daughter.

How could you not fall for a guy like that? So caring and sweet, and you lived with him, it was like torture to have his smell around you, his body, his warmth, and not be embraced by him.

The only reason you accepted to go out with Wonbin was because your friends told you he was going to be a good fuck, but the only nearly good thing that night were his guitarist fingers playing with your pussy during the movie, "for the ticket" he had said, but you honestly would've preferred the money. It felt good for a second, the teasing was hot, and you told yourself it'd get better, but when he took you to his car and to that dark place instead of a nice room and a comfortable bed, fucking you in his backseat and coming after a few thrust, all that after he asked you to give him head, pushing his fingers on your well braided hair, making a mess of it even when you told him you didn't feel like it, everything got boring for him and he drove you home in an uncomfortable silence.

You felt disgusting when he dropped you off and immediately drove away, leaving you there in front of the house, not even checking if you walked in safely.

The only thing you could think while walking those few steps to the house was Eunseok would've never treated me like that.

So, when you opened your door and saw him sitting in the couch, in front of the tv, when he should be asleep after a long work day, waiting for you, you wanted to cry, because he hates the news, and he would never watch them willingly when he could use that time to sleep instead.

You contained yourself and sighed, biting back your lip from quivering and showing how weak you felt at that moment, you were a big girl, and you couldn't cry every time something went wrong.

But you couldn't deny that you were also more vulnerable because of him those days, and how he was pushing you away when you tried to get closer, just that morning, when you gave him those muffins, it hurt you to hear the 'okay' came out of his mouth, it felt like you were being too much for him and he didn't know what to say to your advances anymore, and perhaps that's why those days he seemed in a worse mood, troubled with your presence near him.

When he offered you his beer you feel slightly comforted, how pathetic, you thought, a girl feeling comforted just because the guy who was rejecting her gave her a sip of his beer.

Some pop star was in a dating scandal and you couldn't care less, but you didn't want to leave, you wanted to be with him for more time, as long as he allowed you.

"Did you want to go out with him?" He asked after a couple minutes. You denied with your head.

He finished his beer, so he got up and walked to the kitchen, coming back with two cans and opening one for you, sitting slightly closer this time.

"Then why did you accept?" Some politician was talking about being honest on his campaign, what a bullshit, he would lie, just like you, a normal human being, has being done since you came to that house, acting like you didn't feel anything for Eunseok, and that everything you did was out of your heart, it partly was, but you did it more eagerly because you wanted him to look your way, to maybe see you different, not the young girl that rented the room next to his in his house, and if not an equal partner, at least some kind of comfort from his daily life, something to come back after his tedious routine and that could give him the peace he needed, just like he and his home did for you.

You decided to not lie anymore, if he asked you something, the least you could do was to be honest with yourself and with him, you didn't have long until everything spilled out of the glass already full of your feelings, and it would kill you to move away from him, his daughter, his house, and everything that had become familiar to you those months, but if you were still going to get hurt, you should be honest before everything went to hell.

You drank another big gulp of your beer before talking again, to feel more confident, "I wanted to get laid". He almost choked with his drink, coughing and looking at your direction to try to find out if you were making a really bad joke or you were telling him the truth.

You didn't look at his direction, some festivity was about to start in a few days and the city was getting ready for a festival, it looks pretty, I should go with his daughter before I move out, you thought.

Every day you had contained yourself from going to his arms, kissing his lips and asking for him to pay you attention had come to that, and you had resigned to leaving when he asked you to, because if before he was uncomfortable, now he was going to find you unbearable, and it would kill you to stay and see the place you called home crumble in front of your eyes.

Still, you had never felt so free.

He saw the decision written all over your face, you knew what was going to happen next, and he was afraid of the outcome, of what was going to happen if you ever left him, what would he do without your coffee? Without your laugh filling his house, without the smell of your shampoo all over the room after you took a long shower, or with the way his daughter had started to depend on you for certain questions, just, what would he do without you?

He wanted to come home after his shift to be welcomed by his two favorite girls all over the world, and he was an adult, he would get over it with time, but he didn't want to, he had already compromised with many things, with leaving college, with not going to friend's parties anymore, with only drinking beer once a week, with not being the first place in his life never again, he had already accepted too many things, and you leaving wasn't one of them.

"Well, you didn't have to ask another man when you have me right here" he couldn't process what he said, he just said it, his lips moving before he could think twice. You stared at him taken aback from his words, you expected him to call you dumbass or anything along that, but he was making clear you had permission to see him not like your landlord or just an older guy, but like a man.

Your eyes interlocked and the tension got thicker, both of you were closer without any of you noticing, shoulders touching, and when you moved your face slowly towards him, waiting for him to tell you he didn't mean what he just said, he tenderly grabbed your face and made you kiss him, erasing all distance between you, finally.

Your eyes shut and you kissed softly at first, tasting the lingering bitter flavor of his cheap beer, enjoying every second of it, until you whimpered on his lips, and he, reacting to it, tapped twice with the palm of his hand over one of your thighs, to signal you that he wanted you to be over his lap.

You let your weight fall over him and he loved the way he felt your ass flushing with his knees, his hands roamed all the way from your waist to the softness of your legs and followed the same trail back, addicted to the way your body, even being bigger than normal and nothing like he ever had in the past, felt perfect on his hands, as if you had been designed for him and only him to touch and indulge in.

The hem of your dress had rolled with your movements and his hands didn't help neither, trying to lift it up as much as he could to feel the plump of your ass.

"To the movies with a dress like this one? Tell me the truth, did he finger you with people around? don't you feel any shame?" He asked, making you rock your hips over his boner. You sighed on his neck, not daring to look at him in the face, shame creeping your red cheeks.

"Why do you say that?" You asked curious of his remarks, they were true, but how did he know?

"Because he's no better than me, and I'd have done it too", he made you look at him, one of his hands still over your ass and the other on your jaw, admiring you over him, his glossy eyes were all over your face, from your flushing cheeks to your lips with the mild cherry color of your lipstick that was almost completely removed by his kisses "you're too pretty, no one would be able to resist" he said, lips finding your again, kissing you deeper, wanting to satisfy the part of him that had been screaming for your mouth every day until now, as if it was possible to ever calm it.

You started to blush even more, embracing him with your arms around his neck to kiss him better, and after a couple of seconds, when he let you breath and hide your face on his neck again, licking his lips and still making you bounce with the strength of his hands on your waist, moving you to his liking, his bulge perfectly touching your clit under your panties, you nodded to his past question, Wonbin did finger you, and you did feel shame, but with him, with Eunseok, you were sure you'd have let him take you right there in front of everyone and you'd have said thank you when he finished with you.

"I'm sure he fucked you, did he fuck you in his car? He doesn't look like the kind of boy who takes you to a nice room to give you what you deserve, I'm sure you couldn't even cum once with him, this sweet thing needs to be taken care of by someone who can handle it, someone like me" he whispered that to your ear, biting back his groans and making fun of you trying to hide your soft moans, adding to that the way you nodded to everything he said, he felt exhilarating, wanting to tease you even more, wondering what would happen, would you cry for him to stop? Or even better, would you cry for him to not stop?

The thought did things in him, and as a result, his thumb touched your pussy over the fabric of your panties, fumbling around it to feel how wet you were getting, making you moan louder than you expected, sensitive after being teased before but not finding the satisfaction you needed.

You supposed it was that, how Wonbin played with your pussy just hours before, you didn't think it was probably from all you went through for months, hiding the way you needed him, or how you played with yourself thinking of him behind your door, everything accumulating and being too much for you in this moment, the cathartic minute in which you finally were feeling his body against you, his aroma as close as you begged past nights, and his hands prying the place that suffered his absence the most.

"It hurts" you cried, begging for him to touch you directly with his hands. The air in the room was hotter and your untouched skin was burning. Your hips moved perfectly over him and he imagined himself making you lie on the couch to fuck you until you screamed, he was in pain too to be honest, too many nights needing you almost made him weak, but he wanted to enjoy it as much as he could, in case it was the only night he'd have the privilege of having you, to never forget you in case what you had decided for tomorrow didn't include him.

He kissed you again, he couldn't take you there, on his ugly old couch, he had to take you properly, like you should be treated, "I know baby, I know" he said, eyebrows frowning and breath hitching from getting closer to his orgasm, he had been too painfully untouched and sure you were the same, asking for each other at midnight, each of you in their own rooms, praying for the other to do something about their desire, "let's go to my room, okay? I know you can do it for me, I need to touch you more, and for you to be comfortable in every moment of it, my precious baby"

You wanted to tear up of how good he talked to you, giving and asking for compassion at the same time. For him, you had earned the right to be treated like that, to demand it from him, working hard and giving parts of you he didn't ask for and hadn't realized he needed until you came into the picture of his dull and exhausting life, making it brighter and more bearable every day you spent together.

You didn't want to move, so close of your first orgasm over his lap, but he clapped his hand over your thighs, telling you to move away from him "come on angel, I know you're a good girl, you heard me, let's go" you were a good girl, his good girl, so with the pain of your heart, and your clit, you moved out of his lap, letting him drag you by the hand to his room. The path was short, just the staircase and a couple steps to his room, but the way he was showing you his back, making you walk as fast as him to get to his bed, made your pussy throb. This was happening, really happening, and you smiled feeling content.

When both of you arrived to his room, a secret place you had never been able to set a foot in before, door always closed, you sensed the last line between you both blurring, because nothing, not even an earthquake, would make you get out of his bed tonight, you'd receive everything you had been yearning for, and you'd be grateful at the end, in case he only accepted you one time.

He kissed you again against his door, making you stand on your tip toes to meet his mouth. Your chest was touching his and you were dying for them to touch directly, without any fabric stopping your nipples from feeling his hard chest, even if he didn't train that much anymore, you had seen him come back sweating after a morning jog every sunday, waking up at 6 AM to come back with your favorite bread freshly baked.

While kissing he made you walk back to the bed, pushing you over it and taking off his shirt to then go back to his duty over you.

His mouth couldn't leave you alone, and groping everything he could with his hands and rutting his erection over your pussy, he made sure your lips, and your tongue, were focused on him.

"Please, I need more" you told him, tired of not feeling him on your skin.

He didn't answer you, two of his fingers found your clothed pussy and pressed your underwear, sensing how wet you were under his fingers, a big warm spot was formed, and he decided to not tease you anymore over it. His palm went under your panties, and if over your panties he felt you wet, now you were dripping. His hand was quickly covered on your juices immediately, making him groan, how could he tease his baby so much when she was suffering like that?

"Fuck, I’m sorry angel", two of his fingers found your hole and started to play with you, fucking you without problem because of how wet you were, and you received him like all the time, making him feel welcome with your warmth.

Your body was shaking under him, hands on his chest touching his skin, trying to grasp as much of him as you could, slightly pushing him away of how good he was working you with just with his fingers, but without the force to actually do it, it was just your body reacting to him, because you really wanted him to be closer.

"Wait-" strangled words wanted to come out of your mouth, he was so good with his hands your eyelids were fluttering and the only think you could see in the dark room, with the little light coming through his curtains, was his grin watching your pussy take his fingers, and his arm making that possible.

Two fingers became three and his hand started to fuck you more, like trying to find something inside you, fingers in and out on scissoring movements, until you started to cry louder and leak over his hand, making him feel proud of his work, "that's right baby, come on, cum all over my hand".

You had your first orgasm, making a mess on his hand and your panties, it was uncomfortable to keep wearing them, wet and sticking to you, so he took them off, making you lift your legs to take them. You didn't know if he could see you in that darkness, but he could, your pussy glistening was impossible to ignore, and the image in front of him was everything he had been dreaming of for months.

He took of your dress too, enjoying the view even more, you weren't wearing a bra, and your tits jumped in front of him, gravity making them fall a bit to each side of how big they were, so fucking hot.

His mouth went to your little buds, tongue flicking over one and grabbing the other, and exchanging the work between each of them after he thought it was enough attention to one. They were so soft under his hand, skin overflowing his grip and making him think maybe I should die here, because there was no place more comfortable than there over your beautiful chest.

"Eunseok, please don't tease me" You cried under him, you had watched him so concentrated on your chest you didn't want to distract him, but the pain on your pussy was becoming too much for you, and you were still leaking all over his grey sweatpants.

"Such a crybaby" He smiled, pulling down his sweatpants and his boxers, just enough to free his cock and put the condom he had on his nightstand, he wanted to fuck you, but he had already learnt his lesson, he wanted to take care of you for a long time, to fuck you many more times. He slapped your pretty cunt with his length, enjoying your little jolts. "Sorry, it's because you're the prettiest girl, I couldn't contain myself" he said, pushing his dick over you, simulating the way his cock was going to fuck you in just a second, you opening your legs even more without you intending to, all so he could be closer to you "I'll give you what you want, don't worry" he kissed your forehead to take your attention away from the tip of his dick sliding through your hole, but it was so long he still had you squirming under him, even with all the preparation, you felt him stretching you like no one had done before, "You're dripping all over my bed, it's because of me or him?" He asked after his cock made a wet sound when he finished pushing it into you.

"Uh?" You couldn't process his words, too lost into the sensation of his cock inside you, fucking your guts, so deed the only thing that went through your mind was fuck me, fuck me.

"Who made you like this, me or him?" He repeated his question and you realized who he was talking about, Wonbin, and even if he had fucked you, he was nowhere near Eunseok.

"You, Eunseok, just you" you cried, his hips had stopped for a second to hear your answer, and when he heard the desperation on your voice, he understood you weren't telling him just what he wanted to hear, but the truth. Your nails started to mark his back and he, because of the intensity of the moment, didn't feel it, too concentrated on the sensation of your walls accepting him so easily, something uncommon for him since his length was bigger than normal, but of course his little angel would do it without problem, you were made for him, and he had no intention of ever sharing you again.

His hips moved again, pulling as far as he could to dive all in, making your tears drop one by one of how good you were feeling, you felt high, like touching the sky, and with each trust he took you back to earth, to that room, demonstrating you how the only thing you needed to feel complete was him.

Your heart was racing, you could hear it beating on your ears, but you didn't know what was that you were hearing, his cock making you ignore anything else that wasn't him and his groans.

"Fuck, so tight, has no one been taking care of you since you came here? I'm sure your little toy doesn't compare" he asked and the rhythm of his hips increased, his cock pushing deeper with each thrust. "Were you thinking of me when you used it? Did you want me to hear it so I could go to your room and fuck you?" You shook your head, you used it because you were too horny after spending time with him, and just the image of him coming back home with his white shirt and his ruffled hair made you crazy, he always looked so stressed you had to resist the temptation of dropping to your knees to suck his cock when he told you your daily good night, your mind only repeated I'm here, please use me!, and without being able to receive anything from him, you had to rely on your toy.

You wanted to talk and tell him everything, but no coherent sound came out of your mouth, your insides were being so fucked any function in your mind had shut down, focusing only on your pussy and the pleasure he was giving you.

You couldn't talk and that frustrated you, making multiple tears fall down your cheeks, sobbing at this point. Your hands didn't want to let him go and you tried to hug him and get him closer to you, but you were crying so loud he had to stop to check on you one second, to make sure you were okay.

He looked at you worried "what's wrong baby? Am I being too much?" He caressed your cheek with his thumb and cleaned the strand of tears.

You denied, focusing all your mind into talking again "feels so good, please don't stop". He stared at you for a long time, appreciating your face and your body, trying to get all into his memory to never forget how beautiful you looked at that moment, crying for him and his cock, begging for him to not stop.

He didn't know what he would do if he couldn't fuck you again, if before he was deep into you, now he was in a place that had no escape.

You moved your body under him, trying to get the same feeling from seconds ago, making you forget everything again, making you forget who he was, who you were, and what would happen after you both finished.

"You have no idea of how much I fucking like you" you wanted to say me too when he talked, but his hips had started to work you again and you could only moan loudly when you tried to talk, so you decided to bite your lip to stop being too noisy instead. "I'm sorry baby, I know you want to be loud, but we'll get in trouble" you nodded, understanding why he said that. He put his hand over your mouth and kissed your temple while fucking you, pushing you to the same abyss he was in, needing more of your juices to make a mess over his bedsheets, to let your smell linger around him for more time.

The way he was looking at you was something you'll never be able to forget, something you had never seen before, no one, in all your life, had stared at you with such intensity, full of need and possession, like screaming mine, mine, mine, and you couldn't correct him, he was right, you were his.

Your walls clenched around him and he let your mouth free to kiss you again, his tongue had intruded into your mouth, stealing the little air you had and making you even more dizzy, mind scattered all around the room like your clothes, pushing his dick in a more erratic way, not calculating so much how and what to push, just feeling.

"I'm so close, cum with me angel, fuck" his hips were practically punching yours, making the sound of both skins clapping so dirty you felt yourself tightening just with it. You nodded, both of his arms were on each side of your head and your hands held onto them, trying to not fall wherever you felt you were about to, as if he was going to push you, with him, into some state of clarity you had never experienced before.

He did push you into something new, the orgasm was so hard you lost yourself for a second, mind becoming black and eyes rolling for a long moment, your heart and breath completely stopping and toes curling into the bed, feeling his cock throb inside you while some liquid leaked out of your used pussy.

He brought you back to reality with soft kisses. His hair was sweating over your forehead, and you felt his skin sticky against yours, but you felt complete, after so much time, you were where you should be, in his room, on his bed, with him and only him.

He let his body fall over yours, squishing you with his size, his cock was still inside you, and you didn't want him to move, he could stay like that all night if he wanted, you'd never ask him to move.

Sadly, he moved apart minutes later, when both of you had regained their breaths and your hand was caressing his broad back. He lifted himself, still between your legs, pulling his dick out of you to remove the condom, making you whimper a protest. He laughed quietly, looking down at you, such a needy baby.

He walked out of the room and you started to get doubtful, was he going to regret everything you had done? You loved every second of it, you didn't want to be apart from him ever again, but maybe... Maybe he just needed some release.

Your eyes started to get wet, you always thought you would be satisfied with one time, but you became greedy after feeling his touch, and one time would never be enough again.

He came back minutes after, you heard his steps, but you didn't turn back to him, afraid of what he would tell you.

"Angel, I brought you your tea, have some before you sleep" he touched your shoulder and made you look at him, when you did, he gave you the softest smile and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. You wanted to cry again, touched by his treatment.

You drank some of it, still fresh and cold, while he cleaned you with a wet towel between your legs, so you could sleep more comfortable.

Then, when you gave him the cup, he tossed the used towel away, and, after leaving your cup over a couple of his gardening magazines on his nightstand, he made you cover yourself under his bedsheet, lying next to you, accepting your hug into his arms and giving you a goodnight kiss on your forehead, erasing all doubts from your head, because he'd never be able to give up on his little angel again.

[bludhavens-finest]

Ok so this is the biggest blog I have so I will be talking about it here, also comics have always been inherently political so it makes sense to talk about here, this will be posted to the rest of my blogs as well

I’m going to tag this with tw’s, if you don’t want to see more shit about the election I get it believe me I do, that’s fine. If you do stay around I’m going to be incredibly blunt about this shit

1. Do not fucking kill yourself. The amount of queer and especially young people I have seen saying that they are going to is astronomical, these people are not worth loosing your life. If you need help, get help, talk to someone, at the end of this post I’ll add numbers/websites

2. If you are disabled like me, and you need something medically whether that be vaccines, surgeries, procedures, mobility aids, medications, or even certain information; get them now while you can. The medical system in America is a bitch to deal with and even harder to get into, most of my appointments take at least three months, but if you can get in and get things done before they switch who’s in office, get it done now.

3. If you are trans and planning to get gender affirming surgery or healthcare in the next few months same goes for you, get the surgeries while you still can and get on meds now, if you get on them now it’s going to be easier to keep the prescription for as long as you can.

4. If you’re a woman or afab, get birth control while you can. Because they are going to get rid of birth control at this point, they’ve already gone after abortions and this is the next step.

5. But queer/feminist/punk media and books while you still can, because yes they can and will ban books they already do it in schools

6. Honestly I would even go so far as to say start buying physical copies of certain bands if you can, because most hardcore and just regular punk bands will probably be less accessible

7. Honestly probably just get a vpn at this point, I know you’ve gotten an ad for one from a YouTuber before, look into the company’s, find one you can afford and like

8. If non-Americans or even just some Americans who are republicans (which if you are fuck off.) think this is an over-exaggeration it’s really not.

America is the only first world country without universal healthcare, most people in this country either die waiting for a doctor, die because of a doctor (medical negligence and malpractice are leading causes of death in America, over a quarter of a million people die a year because of it.), public transit is non-existent, disabled people have been fighting for our rights for decades, women lost the right to control their own bodies after having that right for less then a life span. Many woman were there when roe v wade passed and still alive when it was overturned. Because it all happened in the span of 50 years. The amount of violence in our police departments (that are only getting more and more funding), the lack of education and lack of historically accurate information taught in public schools, the literal fucking constant brainwashing campaigns.

This is all coming from someone who is Afab, a Minor, living in the south, mentally and physically disabled, a lesbian, and trans. Believe me I understand how fucking scared people are.

It is 2024 almost 2025, not 1970. You have access to information and you are entitled to being informed, so inform yourself. Check your own sources, do your own research.

I’m well aware that this all seems fucking dystopian, I know that it seems like there’s no point, but keep yourself safe. If you need a break from seeing all this filter your tags, go outside for a while, get off the internet, play with your pets, talk to friends. Just don’t let yourself sit in this and worry yourself to death, it’s not going to help anyone.

Numbers you can call: 1-866-488-7386 (Trevor project), If you go to their website you can also text if talking isn’t safe, 988 (suicide and crisis line),

[imagining-in-the-margins]

New Beginnings CM Challenge 🌱

The following are prompts involving a new relationship, fresh start, etc.!

This event is over (Masterlist of Fics here), but you are welcome to use any of these prompts. If you would like to be added to the existing Masterlist of entries, please check out the Rules below!

🌧 Prompts 🌱

Describe Character's first day at the BAU

Character celebrates a milestone of sobriety

Characters are getting the hang of being new parents

Character goes overboard with New Year’s Resolutions

Character decides to try something new in the bedroom

Character is entering the dating scene after their divorce

Character changes career paths with a very different job

Character introduces their new partner to their kid

Character comes out as trans and introduces themselves

Character finally agrees to get set up with a date after a long dry spell

Character learns to navigate their everyday life after a traumatic event

Character escapes an abusive relationship and the recovery is harder than they thought

Character swears that this year they will definitely fulfill all their New Year's resolutions

Character just came out as LGB and goes on their first date with someone of the same sex

Character decides to cut off a member(s) of their family, and the team reminds them that they still have a whole lot of (found) family left

Character lost a partner and swore they would never love like that again... but that hasn't stopped them from falling in love in a different way

Character got a pet for the first time and they realize how much easier it is to take care of themselves when someone else is counting on them

Character had previously come out as something, but then realized they were something else... coming out is even more daunting the second time

More prompts below + Make your own!

🌤 Dialogue Prompts🌻

"The time will pass anyway." (Earl Nightingale)

"If you jump, I jump with you."

"I can't wait to see who you become."

"I love every possible iteration of you."

"To be brave, you must first be afraid." (Bear Grylls)

"You aren't alone in this. None of us are." (Baldur's Gate 3)

"Is it too late to go back?" "Don't you dare."

"This is all new to me." "What?" "Being happy."

"I don't know what I'm doing." "No one does. That's life."

"There are always a million reasons not to do something." (The Office)

🌒Character Specific Prompts🌲

Spencer's life after prison is nothing like before

Spencer decides to pursue his dream of being a cowboy/rancher

Spencer becomes dedicated to turning his life around after relapsing

Spencer doesn't think about Maeve on a special occasion for the first time

Hotch finally stops wearing his old wedding ring

Hotch embraces his role as a single dad

JJ's children are almost grown, and she struggles to reconnect with who she was before she was their mother

Penelope realizes she doesn’t like the person she’s become after leaving the BAU, so she decides to change

Lauren Reynolds died—it’s time Emily start acting like it

Rossi struggles with suddenly becoming a (grand)father

🍂Rules🍃

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check. Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around March 1. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

Happy Writing!

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (11)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Congratulations! You have successfully made it all about you (positive). This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Sorry that the tags haven't been working for the past couple of posts! I had to go in and edit the html for each individual one T-T please forgive me

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

A strange sense of satisfaction fills you as surprise fills the man’s face, but you don’t show it. You need to see this through. If you’re powerless in the face of his ability, you simply need to borrow his power. So what if he’s akin to a god? All you need to do is bring him to your side. Whoever that author is, whoever took over (Y/N)’s body—maybe they aren’t capable of using such an asset effectively. However, you’re confident you won’t let that advantage go to waste.

The man hums in thought. “I suppose it could be done without much fanfare. I would simply need to shift my attention to your experiences and abandon the current story. However, you would need to have your story recorded somewhere, in whatever form you may wish for it to take.”

You understand what he’s getting at. A story needs a medium, just like that manuscript. There are many options: on film, as a novel, as a collage of pictures. No strict rules exist for expression of self.

“I’ll keep a journal. Every day, I’ll write an entry, and I’ll also use it as a planner. This way, my ‘story’ will have the events that occurred in my life, how they affected my ‘character development,’ and also outline how I expect the story to ‘progress.’ Is that good enough?”

You still don’t think of yourself as a fictional character. You’re real, in every aspect, to yourself. But that doesn’t matter right now. Functionally, you’re a character to this man. You’ll use that assumption to put yourself in the most advantageous position.

“Yes, that would be a rather interesting way to tell your story. There are indeed many stories that were written in the form of diary entries, so this is not an issue at all. This would, in fact, make things easier for me. I would not have to go through the paperwork and expend energy to bring someone from another world since you already exist in Twisted Wonderland as an established character. There is just one thing you should know before you make this decision.”

“Tell me.” Of course there are strings attached. There always are. You prepare yourself. Self-sacrifice in small amounts is necessary, of course, but if there’s anything you can negotiate with . . . .

“I will have to take the previous author’s soul out of (Y/N)’s body. (Y/N)’s soul will regain control of her own body, since it was never removed, only dormant. Since the author’s original body cannot function without a soul, she cannot return to her world. It will disappear, never to be recovered, lost to the fabric of what forms this space. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Is that it?” You expected something else. This has nothing to do with you giving up anything. In fact, it could even be considered a bonus. This woman whose story made your life and relationships exceedingly difficult will disappear down to the traces of her soul. It’s an easy decision. “Of course.”

“How cold-hearted you are.” He chuckles down at his teacup. It never seems to drain empty no matter how he sips it. “That is not an undesirable quality in protagonists, although they often do not have a happy ending in fairytales.”

“Is that supposed to deter me or something?” You stay resolute. “My future was always uncertain no matter if it’s a story or not. I’m in the mafia. I’ve come to terms that horrible things could happen at any moment because of the nature of my job a long, long time ago. It’s my responsibility to plan so that I reduce those chances as much as possible. And you’re going to help me.”

“Yes, I am.” He glances at the fireplace, which has burned down to glowing red embers. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are under my jurisdiction. I am partial to tragic endings, but I also do not mind if an amoral character triumphs in the end. Some of my peers would adamantly ensure it does not happen.”

You furrow your brows. This is not the first time he brought up something being under his “jurisdiction.” However, this is the first time he’s mentioned “peers” instead of “characters.”

“There are others like you?”

“Yes, of course. Twisted Wonderland is filled with too many stories for me to manage on my own. Since you are mainly involved with the Leech Mafia and stories of the Coral Sea, you fall under my jurisdiction.”

It makes sense. This man compared himself to a god, but he isn’t one. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient.

“Who are they?”

He tilts his head. “You would not know us even if I told you.”

“I’m curious. Tell me anyway.”

“Such a curious character.” He glances at the embers again. “Alright, I see no harm in it. My peers overseeing Twisted Wonderland include Walt Disney, the Brothers Grimm, Hanna Diyab, Victor Hugo, and Lewis Carroll, among others.”

None of these names ring a bell. It is just a list of names, but having more information is never a bad thing.

“And your name? I should know how to address you.”

“Oh, I have not yet introduced myself to you? My apologies, I must be turning forgetful in my old age.” He laughs at himself in a good-natured manner. “My name is Hans Christian Anderson. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. He extends a hand to you. When your hands connect in a firm handshake, the new deal you’ve made feels solidified.

Anderson looks at the fireplace one more time. The light has died completely, the little room lit only by the moonlight pouring in the window. With a gentle but decisive clap of his hands, he stands from his armchair.

“That was a fruitful discussion, and I thank you for your patience and understanding. I fear time has run out, however, and so I will be sending you back shortly. I’ll place you right back where you came from: at the moment when I brought you here.”

“Hold on!” Too soon, too sudden. You still have so much to say. He holds up a hand, stopping your protests.

“If you’d like to communicate with me, simply write a request for it in your new journal. I wish you best of luck.”

And with that, the world goes white again.

This is the story of a girl whose name is no longer hers. A girl so common that she may as well be a faceless background character in another person’s story. A girl who wishes, more than anything, to be the protagonist of a love story that will sweep her off her feet and solve all her problems.

Her family is normal. Her friends, too. And so is she. It isn’t enough for her. The world inside that game she plays is so magical, so whimsical, so perfect. The characters are handsome, powerful, clever, funny, or rich, or some combination of those qualities. If she enters this world, surely all those wonderful characters would treat her as someone special. They’d love and revere her unconditionally. She pines for a man who would love her and her shortcomings in their entirety, no matter what she does.

The beauty about fictional characters is that because they are fictional, they can be whatever she wants them to be. She can wholeheartedly believe they’ll love her, and there is nothing wrong with that. But she isn’t satisfied with that alone. It needs to be real.

Desperately, she writes a story revolving around a faceless, flawless main character who she desperately wishes she could be. Everyday, the writing consumes her, dragging her into a fantasy of bliss. She begins to resent her reality. Nobody in real life will love her the correct way. Nobody can be as good as the characters she pours her love and headcanons on. She doesn’t consider how love can be gradual, nor does realize someone might have to get to know her before loving her. After all, in her fanfiction, the perfect mafioso loves her main character upon the first meeting and devotes himself with no questions asked. Isn’t that the ideal love?

One day, a miracle occurs. She meets a man who offers to make her story into her reality. Jumping on the chance to live her perfectly crafted life of happiness, she agrees. Finally. Finally, she will be loved the way she wants.

At first, everything went perfectly. Real life follows her fanfiction to the letter. Jade is charming, Floyd is endearing, and a string of coincidences leads her to meet Vil, another handsome bachelor. Love surrounds her at every turn. All she needs in this life are the handsome men who give her special treatment. After all, this body, this life—(Y/N)—was created by her, for her use. All of the previous relationships this body entertained no longer matter. They aren’t hers, anyway.

The polaroids that occupied her nightstand are probably in a landfill somewhere. The aesthetic was cute, befitting the tastes of a character she modelled after herself, but the person in them is irrelevant. Some side character she’s never going to see again. No matter; she’ll eventually replace those polaroids with cute photos of herself and her new love. (Y/N)—no, the placeholder—has served its purpose. It will not miss those useless decorations since it will never again have its own consciousness.

So where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was wrong from the start. She should have cursed that old man for scamming her. Her happy ending was never a guarantee. How dare a throwaway side character upend her perfect, fairy tale ending? Is that even allowed? They’re all just characters anyway. How can they steal from a real person?

Until the very end, she couldn’t see anyone around her as anything other than characters in a story. Maybe if she did, she might have gotten the love she wanted. Now, she disappears, having never achieved the goal she so desperately grasped at. Like seafoam, her hopes and yearning for love bubbles and disappears.

Hans Christian Anderson places a book into an empty spot on one of his many shelves. He has always been fond of tragedies. As for this new story that’s unfolding . . . who’s to say how it will end? He’s a patient man. With a smile, he settles into an armchair and sips from a cup of tea. He’s looking forward to it. When it eventually ends, like all stories inevitably do, he’ll shelve it and find another story to bring to life.

The world suddenly flashes into focus. The sun’s dying embers flicker on the sea. Sand shifts between your toes. Fingers graze your neck. Before you can activate your Signature Spell, (Y/N) crashes into you and you both topple over into a bed of sand. Bloodlust raises the hairs on the back of your neck. But it isn’t coming from (Y/N). Instead, you instinctively wrap one arm around her and hold the other one out in front of you, shielding her from Jade.

“Wait, wait! Jade, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He freezes. One of his hands stops a centimeter away from (Y/N)’s hair. She doesn’t react. Slowly, you lay back down, heaving a sigh. You shift her face to the side so that she doesn’t suffocate in your shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, complementing the slow rise and fall of her ribs.

“See? She’s asleep.”

Jade furrows his brows. “I fail to understand. Most importantly, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring up at the stars that unveil themselves in the darkening sky. “I’m just a little tired.”

You explain everything to him. He seems skeptical, but eventually, he accepts it. He sits in the sand next to you, his hand covering yours. You pretend not to notice, but it offers a soothing calm to your exhausted mind.

“I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at his side profile. “Even if I write that Vil Schoenheit will cure your parents, it might not happen because of continuity issues. Maybe (Y/N) will still be able to convince him.”

“That’s alright.” He catches your gaze. “It would make the story progress more smoothly if we continue with our talks with Walrus.”

He accepted it so quickly. For that matter, so did you. You wonder briefly if there is something at play that makes you accept the reality of your situation as fact—if it’s because you’re a character after all—but that’s all speculation. Not worth your time and energy to figure out.

“Bottom line is, this is my story now. So I’ll make sure the curse on your parents is dispelled.”

“How reliable.” Jade gives you a gentle smile, one that causes an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “Thank you. What would you like in recompense?”

You weren’t expecting him to offer anything at all. But since he offered, you aren’t one to refuse.

“Money.”

His quiet laughter blends in with the sound of rushing waves.

“No hesitation at all, I see. Of course, I will pay you adequately for your invaluable help.”

“I also want something else.” You fiddle with the strands of (Y/N)’s hair. “I’d like a vacation. Just a week or two after everything settles down so I can go back to my hometown with my mom.”

“Is that what the money is for?”

“Yeah.” Your heart feels a little lighter. “You should visit the Coral Sea after your parents wake up as well. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with them.”

A pause. You scrutinize Jade’s expression in the low light, but his expression is wholly unfamiliar to you. He almost looks . . . nervous.

“Would you come with us?”

You blink. “Don’t you want to spend time with just your family?”

“Yes, but my parents would be delighted to have you over again. You have not been to our home under the sea in a long time, and I would be more than happy to show you around again.”

“It won’t be a bother?”

“Far from it.” His thumb rubs softly against the back of your hand. “I . . . We are very fond of you.”

You can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive, but you accept. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve travelled to their home under the sea, and this most likely won’t be the last.

Suddenly, (Y/N) shifts on your chest. A soft noise escapes her lips as though she’s finally awakened from a long nap. Her bleary eyes find yours. Kind, lovely, and gentle eyes. The eyes of the (Y/N) you know and love, the eyes of your friend.

“Huh? Are we on the beach? What happened?”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat and you hug her tightly. Confused but sweet, she reciprocates with reassuring pats to your arm.

“Yeah, we’re on the beach. Let’s get you home.” You sit up and smile as she fusses over the sand in your hair. Normalcy is slowly but surely returning. “I’ll tell you everything on the way there.”

[emeraldbabygirl]

Hi :) it’s been awhile since I’ve actually had conversations with my mutuals here and I feel bad about it as always but I just wanted to post and say hi and that I think about my oldest mutuals often and hope y’all are still alive and well no matter where you are on your life journey. I know well all busy with jobs and finding what we want to do in life and that’s okay but I just wanted to say that I miss you all and miss all our cute talks and I appreciate you guys coming into my life when you did and meeting you all and sometimes I see you liked a post and I see your username in my notifications and it makes me smile. I miss you guys and I’m sorry I never reached out :( I’ve become bad at keeping connected to people but I want you all to know that I appreciate you all being in my life and I hope sometime we can have our fun conversations again. I hope what I said makes sense, it always sounds better in my head. I just hope y’all are well and if you ever come back to tumblr sometime you can say hi or leave a message even if it’s small, I enjoy the surprises and idk hi :) I miss my mutuals you guys were my first friends when I started building my blog up and I just really appreciate all the kind words and everything you’ve done for me and I wanted to say something even if I couldn’t message you individually. Sometimes it’s easier for me to make a post like this. I still think about you all and wonder how things are and I remember your usernames and pfps and it brings back memories, even if we didn’t talk a lot, maybe I mentioned you in some tag games or I popped in to say hi.

I wanna make something for you all as a thank you for just being a part of my experience here on tumblr even if we don’t talk anymore I want to do something to show my appreciation so I recently fiddled around and made some lil collage/edits and I want to make some for you guys if you’ll let me. Just tell me some things you like, like an actor or singer or animal and some colors and anything and I wanna put something together as a thank you for talking to me when I was still a young blog? Does that make sense? Cause I didn’t have a lot of followers just a couple mutuals and some of you became really close friends and I appreciate you for that.

Of course now I wanna make something for everyone but I’ll just tags the people I’ve known on here the longest and if you want me to make you something please let me know or you don’t have to. I like making things for people and stuff. Ok tagging @excindrela @yovibeispretty @seoulmates98 @ithinkilikeit-reactions @yuta-the-mountain-man @cherryeoo @uwunnie @thirdxporsche @dmbjwhxre ..I think I’ll just tag everyone that I’ve felt something special with, people that I’ve had come into my blog and played games with and stuff like that cause I really think about all of you and wish you all the best :) @wh0sthe5pecial0ne @wheezing-pterodactyl @bandluvr97 @chrismequick @despairvb @impeachybabie @atinystaypixie @princessjazzyjazz @juicylivy @boxyg28 @lowavocado4701 @witchy-weve-monbebe @ateezaligned @henlex @rai-scutum @khathastrophe @kidinthemoonlight @pleasemeosaur @moonlight--cafe @the-moon-baby @axelwolf8109 @dreamlesswonder86 @axishonor @7zenisss @straysugzhpe @halalhyungwon @elenilote @ninamarie1994 @gungumeloh @jaejoongs-nipple-piercing @dungbeatposse @hyugaruma @awritersstuff @star2fishmeg @starstruckforyou @belphies--pillow @sleepystrawberrybunny @khami-143 @simpforchuchu @thistaleisabloodyone

Even if we don’t talk a lot or anymore I see some of your posts on my dash and I’m like ‘I rember you omg’ and I get a little happy. Ok enough yapping I just wanted to say some stuff and I hope all of you are doing well and if not I’m sorry :( I hope things get better for you! Have a good day or night or evening wherever you are <3

[m0tiv8me]

“MAYbe I CAN” Challenge

Hey Tumblr I’m serving up another mental/physical challenge for the month of May.

The Challenge:

Pick something you’ve been wanting to do for your mental or physical well being. It can be something you’ve been wanting to get back to doing or just wanting to try but just never started.

Do that thing for 15 minutes EVERYDAY in the month of May. Just 15 minutes that’s it.

Keep it feasible and within the realm of possibility given your circumstances. But it should also be somewhat challenging and give you a sense of accomplishment.

Here’s some basic Physical or Mental Examples to help get you thinking.

15 minutes of walking or running. Workout or exercise, Meditation or yoga. Reading, crafting, doing a favorite pastime you just don’t make time for anymore and so on. Whatever it is it should have a positive mental/physical effect on your day to day life.

Staying Accountable:

Keep accountable by reblogging and adding onto daily posts. OR journal your own daily updates about what you did in your 15min. Use the tag #maybe i can to make it easier for others to find or tag me @m0tiv8me. If you wish to keep it more private and not post publicly feel free to DM me updates and I’ll respond with some words of encouragement.

Of course anyone is welcome to spend more than 15 minutes on their chosen activity if they wish. But aim for at least 15 minutes each day.

The GOAL:

The purpose of this challenge is to foster healthy habits through consistency and hopefully open the door to long term improved mental/physcial quality of life. Big changes often start small and it’s easy to become overwhelmed in this busy world. Take 15 minutes of time for yourself each day and start to believe “Maybe I Can” do those things I’ve always wanted to do.

What Next:

Simply add a 💙 emoji in the comments if you want in and you’ll be tagged in upcoming posts. Goal report and check in is Monday April 29th. Day 01 post goes up Wednesday May 1st at Midnight. So start thinking of what your 15 minutes will be used for and spread the word and let’s get a community of like minded people helping to encourage and cheer each other on for the month of May!

Any questions? Just ask!

@thoughts-sex-desires @mikelcity @athousandmorningss @joshuamusclefan @perspective24 @marine-corps-strong

[axkirak]

The Curse of Cassandra [EP : VII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary: You start a new life on the planet Olega with the man you love. If your life were a novel, this would be the happy ending. But fate never lets you rest. One day, you find yourself facing three unfamiliar Jedi, and one of them, a Jedi Knight named Yord, captures your attention in an inexplicable way.

Status: finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : Since there are more chapters now, if you don’t want to miss any updates, you can ask me to add your username for notifications whenever a new chapter is posted. Just let me know in a reply, and I’ll make sure you’re included in the next update.

ps. I'll be in Singapore for the F1 from this Thursday until next Tuesday, so I'll pause updating my fic for one week. I hope you can wait patiently.

➡  Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 13 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread // My mother is my enemy

[Episodes 7] It is impossible to live in the past, difficult to live in the present, and a waste to live in the future.

It’s often said that the safest place is also the most dangerous one. 

Perhaps that’s why Qimir chose to remain hidden on Olega, despite it being home to the Jedi Temple, a major stronghold of the galaxy’s peacekeepers.

For most people, there was no reason to fear the Jedi, who were meant to protect them from harm. But that wasn’t the case for you. You remembered well what Qimir had told you: the Jedi were looking for you, too. Even though their exact motives remained unclear, the sense of paranoia never left your mind. Especially after the massacre on Tatooine, you and Qimir felt like fugitives—always just one step away from being caught if any evidence linking you to the crime surfaced and exposed your secret.

You hated being here. Given a choice, you would have fled to some remote planet at the edge of the galaxy. But Qimir had different ideas. “Most of those who know about your bounty are outlaws or trade federations. Neither group gets along with the Jedi, so they won’t be snooping around places where Jedi gather,” he reasoned. “And the Jedi? They’re too preoccupied with galactic affairs to pay much attention to the planet they’re on. Besides, you don’t have the Force, so finding you would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

Qimir wasn’t wrong. Life on Olega had turned out to be unexpectedly peaceful. Despite the city’s persistent chaos, it made hiding much easier. You and Qimir had managed to stay under the radar for over a year without major problems. Everything had settled so seamlessly that you almost forgot what it was like to be on the run from other planets.

With no need to keep moving, Qimir had shifted from his life as an illegal mercenary to opening a modest pharmacy. He also worked as a broker, selling medicines and various odds and ends to travelers passing through. Meanwhile, you had taken on the role of his assistant and personal apprentice. Qimir was dedicated to teaching you both the theory and practice of his knowledge, especially in combat. He also encouraged you to continue developing your powers rather than suppressing them as you had before. Like your mother, Qimir believed your abilities were too valuable to be wasted.

“Haven’t you ever thought,” Qimir once said, “that someone like you could rise to replace the Jedi one day? With your power, you could bring far more to the galaxy than they ever could.”

His words seemed absurd, like a far-fetched joke meant to tease you. You laughed every time, confident that such a thing would never happen.

Never getting involved with the Jedi, no matter what, had always been your rule for survival.

But sometimes, fate can be cruelly ironic, and this was a joke that wasn’t amusing at all.

That's what occurs at noon on a Friday—one of fate's cruel jokes when you unexpectedly find yourself face-to-face with a group of Jedi.

It all takes place at Qimir’s pharmacy on a day he isn’t around. Lately, he has been disappearing more frequently—sometimes for two or three hours, or even the better part of a day—claiming he has business to attend to involving herbal shipments from other planets. As a result, you’re left to run the store in his absence, handling the medicines and assisting customers as usual.

But everything changes the moment the shop’s bell rings and the door swings open. Brilliant sunlight floods the store, heralding the arrival of three strangers you’ve never seen before.

One of them is a teenage theelin-human hybrid girl, with paper-white skin adorned with spots and orange hair with small horns encircling her head like a crown. The other two are human men—one middle-aged, with long black hair tied in a half-ponytail, his face stern and serious; the other younger, with sharp features, sun-bronzed skin, and a tall, muscular frame, likely not much older than you.

They couldn’t be more different from each other, except for their identical attire. They’re dressed in light yellow tunics, covered by long brown robes, and each wears a large belt with the unmistakable emblem of the Jedi Order.

Jedi—The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning the moment your eyes land on their belts, and you instinctively draw in a sharp breath.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt, composing yourself with practiced ease. Lifting your head from behind the counter, you address them with a polite, businesslike smile. “How may I assist the three of you today?”

The older man, likely a Jedi Master, introduces himself with courtesy as Sol, while the young girl, his Padawan, is named Jecki. The other young man, a Jedi Knight, is introduced as Yord. “We’re here on a mission,” Sol informs you, his voice laced with concern. “We’re investigating a serious incident that occurred in this city.”

You have no idea what serious incident he’s referring to or how severe it must be to involve the Jedi. For a moment, your mind jumps to the possibility that it might be connected to you—until Jecki explains further, warning you to keep the information strictly confidential.

It turns out that the serious incident is a series of murders currently happening on Olega. Four bodies in four months—each victim a high-ranking Jedi responsible for overseeing the temple here.

"Since the incident is still recent, the killer might be someone who just moved here or snuck into the city illegally," Sol continues. "There are many of these types around the spaceports, which is why we need to increase security in those areas to ensure the safety of the citizens."

You can tell Sol's words hold only a half truth. The Jedi aren't particularly concerned about the lives of citizens since the killer's targets are not random people but specifically high-ranking Jedi.

The presence of the three Jedi at the pharmacy today is no coincidence. As a newcomer here, you're automatically placed among the suspects, though none of them have the nerve to say it outright to your face.

Understanding this, you begin to relax a little. After all, you have nothing to do with these murders, so there's no reason to worry. You just need to play along with the Jedi's charade until it's over.

Sol, the group's leader, takes charge of questioning you, with Jecki also taking part in the interrogation. Most of their questions are basic: had you noticed anything strange or seen any unusual people recently? They also delve into your personal history—your identity, background, and reasons for ending up on this planet.

You respond naturally, mixing truth with lies, careful not to arouse suspicion. You're confident in your ability to act convincingly—that is, until you sense the sharp gaze of the one Jedi in the group who hasn’t said a word.

You furrow your brow, the intense scrutiny from the Jedi named Yord making you increasingly uncomfortable. You try to ignore him, but there's something inexplicably magnetic about his presence—an instinctive urge that draws you to meet his gaze.

At first, you think he's trying to catch you in a lie, but when you see his expression, you're surprised.

He’s not scrutinizing you for deception—he’s staring at you in shock, as if you’re some kind of ghost.

As you peer deeply into his brown eyes with curiosity, time seems to stretch unnaturally long. You find yourself not looking at the present but plunging into the past. Every moment flashes before your eyes like pages of a book flipping by—one year, ten years, a hundred years, up to a thousand years.

Suddenly, your consciousness is yanked back to the present. You startle as your entire body trembles with the icy chill sweeping over you. Pain surges through you like a jolt of electricity, followed by the sticky sensation of blood trickling from your nose.

You know exactly what’s happening. The side effects of your vision are punishing you for seeing what was not meant to be seen.

Closing your eyes, you take slow, deep breaths, trying to steady yourself and acclimate to the pain. As your senses return, you hear Sol’s concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

"I’m fine," you quickly reply, shaking your head while wiping the blood from your nose with a handkerchief. You feign composure, even though the lingering pain continues to gnaw at you from within.

Sol looks at you with disbelief, but he doesn’t press further. His face betrays concern, and you can’t help but think how fitting he is as a Jedi. His every gesture screams 'purity' If goodness had a color, this man would be the brightest white—so blinding it hurts to look at.

The awkward silence breaks as Sol clears his throat, returning to the topic at hand. “We still don’t have any more leads on the perpetrator, other than the fact that they’re highly skilled with weapons—probably a former soldier or maybe...” He trails off, as if he almost let something slip, but catches himself just in time. "Anyway, if you find any suspicious leads, don’t hesitate to contact me or any other Jedi.”

You watch as Sol places a thin metal card on the counter before bidding you farewell with the classic phrase, "May the Force be with you." He and the other Jedi then leave the pharmacy quietly.

You reach for the card, running your fingers along its cold metallic edge. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s an electronic contact card, storing his information. The front clearly reads, ‘Sol, Human, Jedi Master.

For a brief moment, you consider throwing it far away, but something compels you to tuck it into your pocket instead.

The sun slowly sinks, signaling the approach of evening. Hours have passed, but you're still lost in thought, pondering the group of Jedi you encountered—especially Sol’s story of the horrifying Jedi murder case. Though it has nothing to do with you directly, you can't shake the unease creeping into your mind. It's an inexplicable feeling of foreboding, devoid of any logical reason, as if instinct itself is whispering from deep within, warning you to be cautious. Yet you have no idea what or whom you should be wary of.

And then, there's another matter weighing heavily on your mind—the Jedi Knight named Yord.

His name has settled deep into your thoughts, etched onto your lips. A strange sense of familiarity fills your chest, as though you’ve known him before, despite seeing his face and hearing his name for the first time today.

How odd you think, fragments of a past you can barely recall flicker in your mind, disjointed and unclear. You want to focus your power on a vision, to delve deeper into the memory, but your body is too frail. It would only bring more pain. All you can do now is predict the hazy path of the future, as far as your bruised mind will allow.

You close your eyes, adjusting your breathing to a slow, steady rhythm. You let your mind sink into the stream of consciousness of possible futures.

There’s a ninety percent chance.

Certainty rises inside you—the answer you seek will come when you meet him again... soon.

The Bene Gesserit meditation gradually envelops your mind, nurturing it with such calm and a cold, almost numb detachment. Your fingers gently brush against the knife hidden in your cloak, recognizing that it may become necessary if things spiral out of control.

You step toward the front door of the shop, hand reaching for the handle, but a sudden hesitation grips you, freezing you in place.

A moment of silence surrounds you. You feel like a fish swimming towards a hook, drawn into a dangerous situation you shouldn't be involved with. The closer you get, the harder it becomes to turn back.

But in the end, you open the door anyway.

You stand there, waiting for something to happen. It doesn’t take long before someone grabs your arm, pulling you swiftly into the narrow alley beside the shop, hidden from the bustling street.

Your back hits the wooden wall of a nearby house—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock the wind out of you. You look up, meeting Yord's eyes with a calm expression, showing no sign of surprise. You know he is waiting for you, just as you are waiting for him.

“Be careful. You’re in a place you shouldn’t be,” he warns in a firm voice. “Get out while you still can.”

That’s all he says before releasing your shoulder and quickly walking back to the street, disappearing into the crowd while you stay still, watching his broad back in the yellow Jedi uniform fade from view.

In that moment, it's as if a veil of uncertainty is lifted, revealing a truth you had suspected before.

You are certain now. That Jedi can see the future—just like you.[1]

Footnotes:

[1] In Star Wars canon, some Jedi can see the future, but only a few—usually masters with strong Force abilities like Yoda (though as he got older, his visions became less reliable). You can see that Jedi powers and the Bene Gesserit abilities are somewhat similar (because Dune inspired Star Wars). However, in this fic, the author wanted to create a special distinction between the Reader (who is a Bene Gesserit) and the Jedi, so regular Jedi can’t have visions like the Reader. Yord’s case is unique and will have significant importance to the plot later on.

[valentine-cafe]

Please I need more of Nadia relationship head canons

˖⁺. “ got me in love again !? ” : 

﹙ sculptor villainess harpy gf x gn reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

  . . . verse 9948e nadia x gn reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ harpy ˖ sculpter ˖ villain ﹚

a bunch of mixed nadia headcanons

﹙ cws ﹚: none | wc : 1.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: hello there darling! let me get you a batch of peach ‘n almond crostata <3, this was a delight to sit and write

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

Nadia loves to pick you up and spin you around whenever she’s picking you up from events or simply being out with your friends, bringing you close into a cuddle before either flying or driving the both of you back home.

She’s got a certain knack with making desserts and sweets. A lot of the time she’s at home, when not plotting and scheming villainy, she bakes. There’s always something to eat or snack on in her abode.

Sends Adeline out for most of her chores, whether it be grocery shopping or finding her some tools for the most recent statue she is making. You sometimes worry she’s tiring out the poor owl, yet the bird herself seems to be quite content with her master’s requests.

Because of how frequently she fights with the tigress, she often comes home with a few slashes and scratches along her wings, grumbling to you while you aid her with patching them up.

“This annoying kid, ruining my plans as per usual, I wasn’t even going for them this time. Why not mind their business. and then you’d know it! His precious mentor shows up as well. I’ll gouge his ey—”

Due to rapid episodes of erraticism, the second she senses the storm from within, she calmly sends you out to do something, whether it be going out with some friends or maybe getting some of your favourite ice cream. it’s all to distract you from seeing some of her uglier sides. She wouldn’t ever wish hurting you, but she’s so far gone when she’s erratic, she doesn’t know what she might do.

Often closes herself off when she’s upset or finds herself in a depressive state. It can be hard to get through to her due to the extreme stubborness that she’s always carried with her. Though believe her when she says she truly tries to pry herself out of it for your sake.

Nadia particularily enjoys classical and old italian music, reminding her of days where things were easier and better. She found a new passion in it when you came around.

Cares a lot about the smaller details, and at sometimes becomes a bit of perfectionist in her works. Many of her statues are already perfect, oh but she doesn not see it at times, despite how many times she walks away and comes back to the piece.

Enjoys a good walk along the forest outskirts, watching the life within bustle. While birds chirp happily and deer prance and trot around in pride.

Would never deny it, but she gets jealous when you talk about other birds. There is a reason she doesn’t want to go into the bird filled parts of zoo’s when she takes you.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: why am I so anxious all the time?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

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I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

If Peggy’s party promised everything would change, the ‘yes’ you give to Arturo pays on that promise. Almost at once, everything is different. Your boring, orderly life is suddenly thrown into chaos. You have a hundred worries at once and not enough times; passport, visa, packing, flights. Not too mention all that you’re leaving behind; apartment, furniture, and... friends. 

It’ll be good. You keep telling yourself that, just like Arturo, just like Sam. They seem more excited than you are. You struggle to see past the grief of saying goodbye to the life you built there; the life you built around Steve and false hopes. It’s foolish and naive but it still hurts. 

And you’re scared. Norway. It’s far away. And you’ll be all alone. You survived college because you found Steve; you could stomach the furor of the city for Sam and Bucky, but on your own, what could you do? You’re not brave or bold or anything like that. 

It doesn’t matter. You’re going to work. To forget. Focus on the dig, don’t think about everything else. 

You’ve already lost so much. Steve’s busy, you are too. Maybe that’s good. You have to condition yourself for the trip. For a new life. A year is a long time. You feel like the newly graduated teen heading off to college, the one who walked into the wrong lecture hall on that fated day, the one he picked out and put firmly in her place; a friend, just a friend. 

As you sort through your closet, tossing fabric into one pile or the other, your music stops playing and your phone buzzes loudly against your nightstand. You hurry to pick it up as that noise makes your neck bristle. You hate it. 

You pick up without checking the display. You hope it’s the visa office. No, it’s Sam. 

“Hey, chicky poo,” he chirps from the other end. 

“Chicky poo?” You echo flatly. 

“Hm, you’re right, I’ll keep workshopping,” he chuckles, “so you’re leaving in a week?” 

“As long as my paperwork shows up,” you sighs and cross your arm over your middle. You sway as you look around at the clutter of your bedroom. “And I can get all this shit out of my place.” 

“When’s your flight?” He asks pointedly. He’s not subtle. Men never are. For years, you’d hoped Steve was being subtle and look how that turned out. You know now he was so obviously not into you.  

“Thursday, 5am,” you answer. 

“Ah, that’s pretty early to be hungover but it will be worth it.” 

“Hungover?” You wonder as you slowly sit on your bed, “why?” 

“You’re leaving us so obviously, you need a final hurrah,” he insists, “I’m throwing you a going away party. Just the four of us, unless you have any plus ones?” 

“Going away party?” 

“Neither of the other jerks are gonna do it,” he scoffs, “nothing fancy, promise. Just some drinks.” 

“What about Tuesday? Give me a day to recover?” 

“Wednesday works. Steve’ll be back by then.” 

“Back by then?” You must sound like a parrot. 

“Oh, yeah, the lovers went up north to look at venues for the engagement party. Too bad you won’t make it. I’ll have to drink myself into a stupour all by myself,” he intones. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you grumble and pick at a wrinkle in your pants. 

“Don’t be sorry. You deserve this. I’m so fucking excited for you,” he chimes, “you have to tell me everything. I want pictures of vikings and castles and stuff. All of it.” 

“Sam, I’m just going to be digging,” you mutter. 

“And? You can’t just go over there an put your head down. Go sightseeing, go out on the town, have a wild one-night stand--” 

“Sam,” you drone. 

“You need it,” he cackles, “it’ll be a story to bring home with ya. Make us all jealous with your wild Norwegian adventure. Hey,” he pauses and sucks his teeth, “you’re like Uno reversing a whole country. Vikings used to invade others, this is your chance to go right in there and raise hell.” 

“You’re stupid,” you laugh and shake your head. 

“Never said otherwise.” 

“Hm, fine, Wednesday,” you agree, “if I'm gonna be there, I gotta get all this shit packed.” 

“Did I not say if you need anything? I can help,” he offers. 

“No, no, I got it,” you say, “really, it’s not that much.” 

“Right, well, I should get back to it and let you do the same,” he says in a resigned tone. 

You hang up and heave. You put the phone down and drop your head into your hands. You feel like you should cry. You’ve felt that tide of tears pushing on your eyes since the party but they just won’t come. All that tension is driving you mad but you just can’t dislodge the nail driven deep into your chest. 

💟

Your life is hectic but you’re not surprised Steve isn’t part of the whirlwind. Why would he be? He has so much going on. A wedding is much more important than what could possibly be the most spontaneous and naive decision of your life. Impulsive more than anything. Cowardly when you think about it. You’re running away because you can’t face the truth. Because it’s just easy to leave your emotions in New York. 

Still, you thought you’d hear more than this. More than a thumbs up emoji or hearsay from Sam. Even after your conversation on the balcony and his reassurances, you still feel his discontent. Will he really miss you that much or is he just upset you won’t be there to celebrate the love of his life? 

It doesn’t matter, does it? 

It’s gone so fast and you hope the next year goes just as quickly. That all this passes. Not just the trip but everything else. The sadness, the pain, the fear. You try to be positive. You thought college was scary and look how that turned out. 

Ugh, you’re really doing this. You're leaving is all behind. You’re leaving your friends and your family and your home. You have no one to blame but yourself. You could’ve gotten over Steve Rogers a decade ago. More than that. You couldn’t rip the band-aid off, you had to pull it slow so ever hair rends painfully from the flesh. 

The GPS guides you between the shining marquee. You can see the pulsing dot of your destination on the screen. You don’t drive towards it, instead hunting for a parking spot among the cramped lots and lined curbs. You should’ve taken a cab but you’re only having one drink and you’re saving for the inevitable expense of hurling yourself halfway across the world. 

You get out and grab your phone, your purse hooked over your elbow. You raise the small screen and get your bearings, squinting as you set yourself in the right direction. Just across and at the end. 

As you approach the bar, you stop short. This isn’t exactly the flavour. Well, not for them. You peer up at the neon light in the shape of a martini, a bright pink beacon, under which a large group of women cluster. Whoops and hollers go up as they enter and leave you standing out in the technicolour-tinted night. Did you get the address wrong? 

You check your messages with Sam. No, it’s correct. Strange. Maybe he didn’t know. 

You pull open the violet-shaded glass door and peer around as you step out of the way of the patrons behind you. You text Sam to check if he’s there already. You can’t seem to keep up with the clock hands these days.  

As you wait for a response, you glance around. It’s like a Sex and the City reenactment. The guys always teased you for your rants about Carrie Bradshaw’s selfishness. They weren’t much for the genre. With them, it’s sports bars and beers and what ball game is in season. They never notice your cute new earrings or your efforts to spruce up your work clothes with a flashy belt. 

‘Here. You’re looking cute.’ Sam’s response comes.  

You narrow your eyes and stand on your toes to look around. He’s sitting at a tall table with Bucky, the two of them looking out of place before the feathered centerpiece and glitzy wall art of high heels. You can’t help a grin. This is absolutely ridiculous. 

You weave through the tables and bodies, past the bar of gabbing girl groups and a few men mixed in. You near your friends and claim one of the tall stools around the round table. You use the bottom bar to haul yourself up onto the seat and hang your purse from your knee. 

“Hey, this place is... sparkly,” you look around with a dumb smile. You can’t help it! You never get a girls’ night. 

“It is,” Bucky agrees in a grit. 

You stop short. You look at him then at Sam. You didn’t notice before. They’re wearing bows on their heads. Sam has a head band with a gregariously big pink ribbon, whereas Bucky has a glittering purple bow pinned into his thick locks. You laugh and smother it behind your hands. 

“What is this?” You snicker. 

“We are your ladies tonight!” Sam announces and shifts to stand, bending under the table, “and you get to be queen bee!” He reaches to the floor and you lean to see the huge tote underneath, “here is your tiara!” 

He pulls out the plastic tiara with fake pink gems and white feathers. You giggle again as he places it on your head. This is too much. 

“Sam! How—this is so stupid. You didn’t have to do all this.” 

“What? It’s about time. Don’t worry about us. It’s all about you,” he snaps his finger and points at you, “we’re going to order girly cocktails and dish on the cute dudes.” 

Bucky shakes his head as he fixes the bow in his hair, “I wanted a flower.” 

You bring your hands down to your next and wiggle on the seat giddily. This is amazing. Your eyes sting and your throat locks up. You’re going to miss these idiots. 

“You guys,” you breathe. 

“No crying!” Sam claps his hand, “I already got this guy moping around.” 

“I’m not moping,” Bucky sniffs. 

“We have to decide who’s who. I know you hate Carrie so we’ll save that for Steve. He is the stuck up blond, after all,” Sam smirks, “I’m definitely Samantha, it’s already in my name. And you,” he points at you, “Miranda. The level-headed one who has to put up with our BS. That means Bucky--” 

“Charlotte?” Bucky frowns, “can’t I be Stanford?” 

You nearly gasp, “Bucky, are you a stan?” 

“I’ve seen some episodes,” he shrugs. 

“Well, that’s decided,” Sam checks his watch, “where’s that bozo?” 

You frown and look around. You look at your phone. You were just on the cusp but Steve is late. Bucky takes out his cell too and all three of you scroll through your screens. 

“Whatever, we don’t have to wait for him, drinks,” Sam blacks the screen and sets down his phone. He reaches for the pink pleather drink menu, “I was looking at the Paradise Punch. Sounds interesting.” 

“Mm, I’m just having one,” you state, “I gotta drive home.” 

“Pfft, don’t worry about it. You can get your car tomorrow.” 

“Sam, I leave at five in the morning.” 

“Fine, I’ll take care of the car. You’re storing it, aren’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t expect--” 

“Tonight is going to be fun. No arguing,” he points a long finger at you. 

The phone jitters and his phone lights up. He picks it up as your cell remains lifeless in a rare moment of peace, though it’s fraught nonetheless. You peek over at the empty fourth stool. 

“He’s not coming,” you utter. 

Sam huffs and puts his phone down, “he’s not. Peggy has a work dinner and he’s invited.” 

“Oh,” you nod and try not to deflate entirely, “that’s... that’s fine. He said he’d come to the airport but I wasn’t counting on that either.” 

“Asshole,” Sam sneers. 

“Hey, no,” you shake your head, “he’s busy. He has a wedding and all that--” 

“You’re going away,” Bucky surprises you with the emotion in his tone, “and he can’t be here.” 

“Really, it’s not--” 

“It is,” Sam insists. “How long are you gonna let him walk all over you? Isn’t that why you’re leaving?” 

“It’s work, it’s nothing to do with Steve.” 

“Sure,” Sam accepts hotly, “keep telling yourself that.” He cringes and swallows, “tonight isn’t about him. For once. It’s about you. Us. Having fun. Saying goodbye. It’s gonna be terrible without you. I hope you know that.” 

You could laugh at his rebuke. The conflict between celebratory and reproachful is amusing. You exhale and put your hands up. 

“Alright, I got it.” 

“Buck,” he gestures to the other man, “go.” 

You turn to the Bucky and he slides off his stool. He reaches down under the table and brings up a gift bag. Your mouth falls open. Your chest tweaks, a mixture of glee and guilt. You’re happy to have friends with them but you feel so bad for not seeing it earlier. For being so tunnel-visioned that you couldn’t appreciate them fully. 

“This is so—you didn’t have to,” you say. 

“We did. Obviously,” Sam scoffs, “don’t worry, my gift is the grand finale.” 

“Right,” you smile and accept the bag from Bucky. You push through the tissue paper and pull out the heavy shape inside. You reveal it and just as quickly hide it back in the polka dot bag, “Bucky!” 

You let go of the taser and retract your hand. Sam guffaws and Bucky gives a confused grimace, “you need it.” 

“What?” You hiss. 

“You’re going to be all alone over there. You should be safe.” 

“I... appreciate the thought but it’s a bit extreme.” 

“He’s right,” Sam adds, “you know, going to the land of the vikings, you can never be too safe. I’ve heard they like to carry women off in their boats.” 

“You two,” you roll your eyes. 

“My turn,” Sam says, “you’ll love this.” 

He once more searches under the table and the tote crinkle. He pulls out an envelope and you tilt your head. Really? 

“Money?” You wonder. 

“What am I? Your grandma?” He snorts, “here.” 

You take the envelope and turn it over. You pull the flap open and reveal a pamphlet within, along with a second slip of paper. A reservation... 

“I found this place over there. It’s at some coastal castle, there’s a spa and all that. They do like ancient types of treatments, hot rocks or whatever,” he explains, “I made sure you can adjust the dates too if you need. You just have to call.” 

“Wow, that’s... Sam, I’m going to be so busy--” 

“I told you not to work yourself too hard. That’s a good excuse for you to get your head out of the dirt. Literally. Just think of me when you’re in a mud bath with a glass of champagne.” 

You put the envelope next to the gift bag and drop off the stool. You open your arms to them. Sam is up first and Bucky drags himself to his feet. You wrap them in a hug and they do the same in turn. It must be an absolutely ridiculous sight but you don’t care. You tuck your head against Sam’s arm and feel a rumble in Bucky’s chest. 

“Sam, that’s my ass,” Bucky snarls. 

“I was just making sure you didn’t forget your wallet,” Sam chuckles. 

“You’re a moron,” Bucky pulls away and shoves him. 

“Peas in a pod, bud,” Sam lets you go as the hug breaks up, “now, I need a drink and you...” he points in your direction, “need a double.”