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rottiens · 1 month

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NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA

✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.

✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+

✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. . 18K

Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance.

You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden.

You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.

You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.

The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy."

Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing.

The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground.

Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.

This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music.

One, two and... up!

You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—

"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear.

You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid.

Don't throw up, don't throw up.

You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background.

This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop.

You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once.

Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally.

You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly?

Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom.

You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still.

"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near.

"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't.

"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity.

His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference.

Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly.

"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes."

"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus.

His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose.

"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."

"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?"

"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen.

“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?”

Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you.

“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.”

Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body.

You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure.

You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature.

Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest.

His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.

Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.

Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.

Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”

You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.

“Nothing.”

“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...”

“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat.

Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.

Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him.

“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”

When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him.

“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.

“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”

Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.

Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.

“I don't need your fake kindness.”

Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.

“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”

“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.

You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.

You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.

“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.

“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”

Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.

You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.

You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.

“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”

“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”

"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."

You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.

Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable.

“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.

“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”

You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.

“I don't think that's really any of your business.”

You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.

Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”

Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.

With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.

You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.

The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.

When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.

“Let's go.”

“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.

You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.

Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.

“Where's your car?”

You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.

Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.

The realization dries your throat.

“Is that yours?”

“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.

Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.

“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.

You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.

“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.

You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes.

“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”

You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.

Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.

You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest.

The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears.

You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.

“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.

Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.

“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.

Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.

You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.

“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.

You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.

“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.

“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.

“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.

The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.

“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.

Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”

You fold your arms. “If...?”

He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.

“If you help me with something.”

“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly.

“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.

“What kind of favor?” you insist.

“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.

“What's in it for you?”

“Can't I help a partner?”

You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.

“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step.

Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.

“Why me?”

“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”

You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.

You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”

“Okay.”

“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts.

Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.

There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.

Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM —

You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.

Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.

His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”

He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you.

Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it.

Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.

Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.

Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.

“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”

“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”

Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.

“You said you were helping him — is this his business?”

Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”

You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”

“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.

You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.

“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—

“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”

You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.

“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”

“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”

“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.

“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”

“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes.

“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”

You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.

“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”

“It's just the two of you?”

You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.

You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.

As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:

He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?

The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.

“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.

“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.

He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”

“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.

Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.

You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.

“You live here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought we were going to train,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space.

“We will.”

“But...”

“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”

You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.

The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.

He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.

You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so.

“I knew you were a rich kid...”

He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”

A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.

You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.

When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.

The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture.

Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.

Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.

“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”

The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.

To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.

“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.

“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.

“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”

Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.

“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.

Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.

“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”

You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face.

Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.

When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.

“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.

“I really mean it. Thank you.”

Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.

“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.

“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”

You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.

“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.

“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.

“I'll get an uber.”

Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.

What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?

Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm —

The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing.

As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.

With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.

With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.

Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it.

Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.

Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.

“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”

“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.

“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.

“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull.

Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.

“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”

“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.”

Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine.

The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle.

“Again,” he orders you.

Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence.

The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.

The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.

“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays.

"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension.

He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness.

“Sir...”

He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.

“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.

“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.

“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.

“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.

“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”

“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage.

The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”

You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.

“Be a good girl then.”

“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this.

“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.

“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling.

“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”

He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile.

Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you.

Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know.

“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.”

Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly.

“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director.

“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.”

Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.

The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.

You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.

“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.

Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.

Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.

In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.

“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.

You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.

Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.

Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.

You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it.

Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.

“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.

“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”

You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.

“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”

“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.

“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.

“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”

You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.

You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.

“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.

“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”

You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.

“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.

Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.

“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.

“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”

His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”

The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”

You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.

“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”

“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.

“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”

“I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.

“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”

Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.

“We can report him,” he suggests.

“They won't listen to us,” you reply.

“Not with that attitude.”

You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.

“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.

“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.

“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.

With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.

With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.

“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.

“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.

“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.

“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”

“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”

You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.

“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.

“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.

Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.

“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.

“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”

“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.

“I never said that.” You defend yourself.

Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.

“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.

“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?

“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.

Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch.

“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.

“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.

“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.

“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”

“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”

You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.

“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.

“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.

You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”

“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”

“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.

“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”

Sat. 4/15 • -:- am—

You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.

It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.

The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers.

The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home.

You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.

R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)

Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.

You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.

You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.

“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.

Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.

“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.

“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.

“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.

“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”

You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.

“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to.

“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.

“He's much better, actually.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.

“There's just one little problem.”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.

“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”

"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend.

“That's where you come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”

You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.

“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?”

“Yes, just once or twice.”

“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.

“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”

You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.

It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.

“I have to go now.”

You have a lot to process.

“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.

“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.

You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.

Thurs. 5/10 •

Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.

Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.

On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar.

On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.

The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.

“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.

“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”

“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.

Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.

As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.

At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.

As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”

You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”

Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”

You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.

“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.

At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.

“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”

After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.

Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.

“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.

“Is it the money?”

You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”

Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.

“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”

His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.

“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.

“Fine. I'll be with you.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”

You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.

“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.

“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.

“I've never smoked,” you confess.

“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”

“...Yes.”

“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”

You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.

You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness.

His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out.

“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue.

Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.

“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.

Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.

“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.

“Then let's go somewhere more private.”

Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat.

“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”

He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.

“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.

“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”

“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”

Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.

The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are.

As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.

Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire.

“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.

Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.

“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down.

Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath.

More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art.

“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté.

Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan.

“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down.

You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.

“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?”

Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers.

“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?”

It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good.

“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed.

He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs.

As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is.

“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle.

From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip.

“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.”

His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you.

Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.

The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply.

The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation.

“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet.

“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror.

Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.

Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress.

“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...”

“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.

Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you.

“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”

His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet.

“Ryōmen...”

“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.

“Yes, oh my god, please.”

Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time.

“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”

Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.

The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.

Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth.

. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.

With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy.

You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.

“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.

“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.

“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.

“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.

“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.

“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”

“Is it okay if I come with you?”

“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.

"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.

You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.

“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”

My girl. You feel like you might burst.

“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”

“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”

And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.

Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.

#wr #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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yanderemommabean · 6 days

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Yandere Choso X Reader fic

(Quick note! This was a com, who ill keep anonymous, but I was told this was A-Okay to post and share! I hope you beans enjoy! The premise is Choso being affected by Hanami's flower in a sex pollen sense, and it goes from there! CW: Dub-con, but con at the end, chasing through woods, random guy gets obliterated for talking to reader, and reader is female/has AFAB language! Its a bit of a read of 3,500 or more words so get cozy!)

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His skin feels like it's incessantly itching. His eyes glean more dilated and red than usual as he looks around his room, pacing the floors like a beast caged. Choso can’t explain it, honestly. He would just feel better if you were here, safe and sound by his side like you should always be-- Especially after how harrowing that fight got when he was slammed into Hanami. Flower buds burst open when Choso’s body brutally collided into the curse, and thankfully he was able to take the brunt of what followed, but you…

He clutches his hair a bit, not wanting to think of what could happen if you were any closer than you were. To think anything could happen to you at all made him feel shaky and uneasy and he knows that can cascade into a pit of despair if let to simmer for too long. It’s a bad habit of his; he’s had it for as long as he’s been the eldest brother. It’s never really let up, in fact he’d say it’s worse now since he’s been given people to care for again. He can’t be fully blamed for that can he? After coming into this world, you and Yuuji were really all he had to get him by. Loss hurts. He’s so tired of that aching loneliness.

Going from adversaries to allies was the least of what anyone expected though he wouldn’t have it any other way. You managed to bring to life what he thought was dead and buried. He’d been so sure he’d strangled it with his own hands.

Choso couldn’t ask for a better friend, yet… Lately he’ll admit, he’s been craving more than just that. When he gets a glimpse of you, he has to force himself to behave and not gather you into his arms, insistent to press his lips to yours and drink in the taste of you. It’s all he’s been wanting these past few days, picturing how your voice would go weak as you beg him for more.

Dear god, he wants to give you more. He’d give you anything your pretty beating heart would desire, simply as long as you only called his name; only ever allowed his fingers and lips to explore your body.

Before you, Choso never once considered looking for a lover. He was sure your kindness could only stretch so thin, denying him anyway. Alas, he was contempt in letting you radiate the sunshine in his life as he loved from afar. After that Hanami incident however, he isn't so willing to sit and wait anymore.

“Cho?” Your voice calls out, poking your head into the room as he paces like an animal being caged. His eyes dart to where you stand, mouth acting before his brain could catch up. “Where the hell have you been?”

You’re both stunned by the coldness his usually warm voice held. You stay still, eyes rounded as you decide to fully enter the room to ask just what the hell his problem was. He’d been aggressive before, sure. You’ve seen him be rough and ruthless as he fights, spewing venomous words and poisoned blood to pry open curses like pistachios. Though, never has he had that sort of cold and demanding tone with you.

“I'm sorry…” he utters, delicate and tired as he walks over, embracing you tightly. You hug him back on instinct, pressing your face into his chest as you feel him play with your hair; pressing his face into it as he breathes your scent in to calm his nerves. Oh dear god, it does the exact opposite. That sweet scent only lets his blood rush south and his mouth goes dry; his fingers start to shake as they brush through your hair and do their best not to yank your head back to force his lips on yours.

You have to be fucking with him. You have to be. Teasing him with every movement you make as his sanity trickles from his ears and he comes closer and closer to just giving in and sinking his teeth into you. Maybe even in a literal sense with how desperate he is to mark you up and keep others away. Or to show you off and to taunt the other, lesser men who thought they could ever get ahold of a gem like you. Pathetic, really.

Those vermin need to crawl on their knees and beg for his forgiveness when he gets ahold of them.

“Look, you’ve been cooped up in here for a while, Choso” You say as you begin to pry away from his tight embrace -was he always this hard to pull away from? “I think you should come with me on a little walk. I know you hate the town so the woods should be fine, right? Fresh air, no paranoid thoughts, you’ll get to see that everyone's ok! I mean, I know how you get when you worry too much…” It’s nothing like that. Though, how can he tell you that? How could he shatter this image you have of him etched into your mind’s eye? How could this beast look at such innocent prey and tell them he’s about to devour them?

He’ll hide that for now. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is all because he’s gotten sick from Hanami and needs to just let the air and the sunlight heal him. You had never led him astray before.

He trusts you to lead him; guiding him away from the solitude of his living arrangement as he follows dutifully beside you. His body becomes flushed and red as your scent only grows more and more enticing. Do the people walking by not sense it at all? How delectable you smell? How you desperately need to be stuffed to the brim until your voice is broken?

A deep breath, and the curse composes himself. Breeding you in public wouldn’t be ideal anyway. These sick humans would want to taint you, take you away, try to have a piece for themselves, and he wouldn’t hesitate to level a few buildings to make them scatter like the roaches they are.

“Hey, is there anything else you’re not telling me? I mean even in messages you seem, I don’t know…Off '' You ask, stopping mid walk to turn and look up at him. His long hair was down from his usual pigtails and in this light his eyes held more of a dark, dare you say hunter-like aura; it only added to the man's beauty. His scowl seemed to grow as he watched more people walk by, getting way too close to you-- way too comfortable with your personal space.

The woods was just another five minute walk away, and yet it felt like an eternity trying to get there.

“Well, some troubling thoughts have been arising” He admits, while rather harshly yanking you closer as the sidewalk turns into a path that leads into the trees.

“These people need to get away from us. I’m about to strike down the next one who gets too close, I swear.” He grits out, teeth showing in a snarl as he looks over his shoulder, watching as the last two people he hoped would be on this trail were leaving.

You aren’t sure what to even say, you’ve never seen him this high strung before. That’s honestly saying a lot with what you’ve seen Gojo and Yuuji put him through. But in all seriousness, you were beginning to feel uneasy, like something dark was bubbling beneath the surface. You are starkly reminded that he is in fact, a special grade curse.

“L-let’s just calm down and get to the woods before we vent ok?” You say with a forced laugh, feeling the energy shifting even more as a jogger comes running up the way, and stopping to catch his breath. He hunches over, hands on his knees as he lets his lungs get in whatever air they could. With a wipe to his brow, he began smiling up at you two with what Choso saw as a flirtatious smile while you only saw a friendly one. “Careful out there” he says between breaths, standing up fully. “It’s getting dark. You know how those trails get when you can’t see as good. Hate for a cutie like you to get lost…” he says, looking like he was moving in to press closer. “Especially with someone like him-” he whispers, gesturing vaguely “-are you safe with him? Do you trust him?”.

After that question, you feel as though a snap of electricity went through the air.

That’s when it all goes downhill. The warm splash mixed with the thudding of a now headless body hitting the ground, you can’t comprehend what you’re seeing for a few horrifying seconds. It's silent somehow. That’s the worst part. It’s like the world isn’t aware that a man was just beheaded and killed before your very eyes, his lifeless body now bleeding out on the dirt before you and the curse who did the horrible deed.

“He touched you” Choso spits, eyes holding a viper-like stare as he wipes his cheek, a blood streak following his knuckles as he spits at the man's corpse. You act on instinct. You rush forward, your feet carrying you like your life was about to end, and for all you knew, it was. There wasn’t any semblance of the Choso you knew in those eyes as he struck down the innocent man who wanted to check on you. You can’t even begin to process the words Choso is throwing at you as he chases you through the rocks and trees, the sun beginning to fully set as the hunt begins.

You feel like a deer trying to sprint away from a predator. Every flicker of your eyes shows his face, still blood speckled as he runs after you. Every twist and turn you take only makes your heart beat faster as you look for any possible hiding spots, anything to shield you from whatever wrath Choso has had buried within him these last few days. Why? Why is he doing this? He seems so evil and terrifying! You almost let out a sob, hunching over behind a large tree so your breath could come back to you. “Don’t you dare show feelings for someone like him” Choso snarls, but it’s far away, his voice sounding strained as he tries to speak. “Don’t you get it? I did that to protect you! All these people, they…They don’t want what's best for you, they want to hurt you!” Hurt you? Telling you to be safe was hurting you? No, Choso’s just lost it, he’s gone completely crazy!

“Y/N…You know I’d never hurt you” His voice pacifies, coming closer and closer as you fear trying to flee from the tree you’re behind. Oh god please, please don’t let him find you. Don’t let him kill you! “I’d never forgive myself if you were hurt” He continues, stalking closer like a large cat as he follows your scent. “I just want to have you safe. To be pampered. To be mine as I lavish you in my love and adoration” he seemingly purrs, voice dropping an octave as he stalks closer and closer, knowing exactly where you were hiding.

“To have you bear my own children…have you love me as I love you. To taste you. Feel you. Have your body molded to fit mine as we breed like rabbits” he chuckles, dark and sinister as his fantasies seem to take over and spill from his lips. “Tell me, Y/N, are you a gentle lover? Or do you need me to bruise you a little? Rough? Soft? However you need it, you know I’ll give it to you until your pretty little head is empty and only full of thoughts of me.”

That voice, that sultry purr, was this some sort of sick thrill for him?

You don’t get much time to dwell on his true intentions. Once you feel his presence behind you, it’s too late. In a blink, your hands are being pinned, and your mouth is covered by his hand. Your eyes meet beautifully dark ones, staring at you like you were a meal he couldn’t wait to devour.

“Gotcha.” You whimper, shaking your head as Choso simply stares for a moment, soaking in your scent and salivating at the intensity of it. There’s no way he’s not getting a taste of you. He’s even worked up the appetite for it. Once his hand pulls away, you openly sob, shaking and terrified. “Please, please don’t kill me! I-I thought we were-” He clicks his tongue, grabbing your face roughly as he pulls you into an intense kiss. It’s abrupt, unplanned, but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s had enough of these feelings building and building with no release. He’s taking what he wants, and he’s going to be sure you enjoy every bit of what he plans to ensnare.

You find yourself melting into the kiss. You’re confused, and admittedly turned on at the same time. The panted breaths shared between you are hot and primal. He knows how to suck and bite just right to get your lips to open, allowing his eager tongue to slip inside and taste you, dragging the tip of his tongue over the pad of your mouth while his hand goes to your hair, pressing your face closer so he can kiss you deeper.

The deep moans Choso makes as his tongue curls around your mouth, they’re deep and hungry, making your thighs clench together even more. Fuck, are you actually into this? You can’t even feel the amount of shame that you think should as the kiss becomes more feverish, both of you panting and moaning into one another's mouths as he tugs and paws at your clothes. He’s so close to just tearing them off if they keep denying him contact with your warm skin.

He needs you. He needs to feel you pressed against him, bare and naked. He won’t let you get away until his cravings are satiated; your body decorated in his teeth and nail marks. “Choso wait-” You breathe, light headed and confused as you press at his chest, tears still drying on your face. You needed a second to breathe, to think! Everythings happening too fast and too much and- “Say my name again.” he demands, low and carnal as his hands tear off your bottoms. In one fell swoop your wet panties came off with the shorts you wore to make walking easier; showing Choso that at the very least, your body was enjoying this. Who were you kidding? You wanted this to keep going. That fever pitch was only rising and that desperation was filling you too. You wanted to see what he could do to you. Despite being terrified for your life, you knew you were safe. Well, as safe as one could be with a rabid dog like Choso had become. A collared beast isn’t a threat to their owner though, yeah?

“I said-” he barks, pulling you forward to steal another heated kiss, one hand coming to shuck off his own pants. “Say my name again.”

There was no room for arguing. Decorum had left the moment the chase started. You look up into his eyes, kiss swollen lips parted as you both press forward into an embrace. There was a beat of silence, like you both were caught in admiration of one another. The forest waits on baited breath before you reach your hand up and wrap around his neck, holding yourself up as he wraps your leg around his waist. “Choso.” It sent a visceral shock down his spine hearing you say that in such a way. So needy, begging for him to keep his body against yours as you both find yourself kissing again, his hand coming to cup your ass and hold you up until you’re backed against the same tree you were just trembling and crying behind. Everything blurs after that. There’s clothes coming off completely, possessive phrases being moaned into your mouth or bitten into your skin as he falls apart, greedily taking in whatever he could of you as you two go at it like animals. You swallow, deep and nervous when you feel his cock pulsing against you. Where the hell was that thing hiding? Is that why he wears baggy clothes?! He doesn’t let your mind wander for too long. His fingers grip your face again, tilting your head upwards to meet his lust filled eyes. In this moon light, he looks even more inhuman. A true monster who got what he wanted. A death painting. Part of you feels like you want to see him like this more often. Hopefully with less murder involved.

“Eyes on me baby. Only me” he commands, holding you still as he guides himself into you, inch by thick inch. Your entire world was on tilt, feeling him enter you while your legs trembled and struggled to hold onto his waist. How was he so strong? Holding you up this easy, it made your mind race and trip over itself with imagining what all he was holding back on, how he could manhandle you as he pleased.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good. Just like that.” he praises, and fuck, it goes right to your core, making you pulse and throb with arousal as he begins to pump into you. You feel yourself go taut as he decides to press you into the ground, his cock angling even deeper inside of you as he has you in a damn near mating press.

“To think I waited for this-” he groans, deep and guttural as he begins to grind into you, over and over, long and languid strokes to drag the pleasure out of both of you. “-Ngh, to think I wouldn’t have you, begging for me and my cock, moaning for me like a good little whore.” “Ch-Choso!” You gasp, choked and stunned as he begins to speed up, the haze only growing as he holds his hand to your throat and buries into you over and over again. “You should have been mine since I fucking laid eyes on you! Fuck-I should make you my pretty little mommy, breed you like your pussy craves until we have more kids than I have brothers.” he rambles, tensing up and manking sure his angles were just right, stroking every bump and ridge inside of you. Your toes are curling at this, being used like some flesh light while Choso babbles away about how he owns you, how he wont let anyone even breathe near you, all while his massive cock carves its place inside of you. It can’t be helped when you scramble for any sort of purchase, grabbing onto his arm and clawing at his skin, drawing blood as you clench your fingers.

Your mouth falls open, heat flooding your system as you moan louder than you’re sure you ever have when you used toys or had sad experiences with other dates. It was so much, it was too much. You hadn’t known you’d be so turned on by this; how possessive Choso was, never even considered it until now.

With the way your body tensed, a splash of your cum coating Choso’s cock and dripping down to the forest floor, there was no denying it. You were perfectly ruined for this man. The white hot pleasure came rushing behind your eyes, your back arching off of the ground as you cried out, spasming and writhing as your orgasm wracked your frame.

Choso watches, enthralled and beyond turned on as he watches you fall apart. His hand comes to press right on your abdomen, feeling how deep he is inside of you as his thrusts refuse to cease. “That’s it. Good fucking girl, Y/N. Feel how deep I'm going to breed you? How full I’m going to make your womb? Fuck, you’re going to be so pretty round and soft with our babies.” He’s lost in his animalistic thoughts, his pace picking up as he sloppily kisses you, chasing your taste with his lips and tongue as his balls slap against your ass, his orgasm coming to its peak. “Going to mark you from the inside, make you mine.” he growls, only getting your weak and worn out whimpers in return as you watch how his cock enters you over and over, knowing he means every word. He steals another desperate kiss, his hips suddenly stilling as warm fluid empties into you, fucked deeper and deeper into your core. You shudder, feeling like an aftershock of pleasure leaves you as his cock slips out and his load begins to follow. You two sit there, panting and catching your breath. Choso seems so much more, how do you say, soothed? Subdued? Pacified? Whatever it is, he seems so much more calm than he had earlier as he admires how his seed leaks from you and lets his fingers play with your soaked and swollen hole. “Hmph. I love how you jerk and twitch from this. Sensitive aren’t you?” he chuckles, crawling on top of you again, admiring every bite mark that was now swelling and welting. “I think this is a good start.” “T…To what?” you ask, head more clear as you try to once again process everything that’s happening. “Our family” he says, like he didn’t just rearrange your guts. “I'm going to make us a family. A big family. A loving one unlike the one I was brought up with.”

He smiles, soft and amused as he plays with a few strands of your hair, like you weren't covered in dirt and sweat. “I’ll give you a few minutes before we get started again”.

((I hope you beans loved it! -mommabean))

#yandere choso #yandere jjk #yandere male #yandere smut #yandere dubcon #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere x reader #yandere lemons #Mommabean #yandere lemon

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nelkcats · 1 year

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War Day

After Danny was crowned he decided that the truce party had to have a counterpart, after all ghosts became friends mostly through battles, and he assumed that one day letting them fight wouldn't be a bad thing, it might even help stir up some grudges.

This was how High King Phantom, ruler of the infinite realms inaugurated the long-awaited "Day of War" or just "War Day", a moment when the Infinite Realms naturally became chaotic; alliances were allowed but it was not advisable to trust on them.

And of course, you were free not to participate, you just had to put a blue or green band on your arm, or a little green clock in the backyard of your haunt so the ghosts would leave you, your haunt or your territory in general alone.

Danny thought of it as some kind of giant paintball day, only with no paintballs and full of aggressive ghosts with various powers, it was especially exciting since everyone knew there would be no hard feelings after it and they would end up in the king's palace eating sweets as little children.

They usually celebrated it on a day close to any celebration related to death in human world, when their powers were especially powerful and therefore everyone could have more fun.

The problem was that since Danny had human friends (liminals?) who came to play, they didn't really consider it weird when some humans fell into the realms by a natural portal, and since they weren't wearing any blue or green arm bands they were definitely in the game.

For their part, the family of bats along with some League allies found themselves literally standing on a field of war where everyone seemed to be going for the kill, Jason was strangely excited about it, as was Damian.

When Dick asked one of the locals for an explanation, a guy on a motorbike threw him into the air laughing and yelled "LET THE HUNGER GAMES BEGIN!"

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #justice league #ghost king danny #detective comics #war day #is kinda fun because all the heroes are losing their minds #thinking they ended up in a interdimensional war #but at the end of the day all the ghost are happy and laughing #eating some sweets and ectoplasm #the heroes would try to find out allies #they would be betrayed #dp #Jason will consider return for the next year #danny fenton #ghosts

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yaoyaobae · 1 year

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Another twst oc introduction 🏃‍♀️

Jaseem

School : Royal Sword Academy

Favourite food: Rice dishes, Shawarma

Pastime: Playing with his pet tiger Rana, Visiting Kalim, Discovering wildlife

Family: Father, Mother, Kalim(Cousin)

Role: Dormhead

Jaseem is a third year at RSA. To most people he may seem like a lone wolf who despises making friendships, but underneath the surface is a gentle boy who longs for freedom.

Being born from a wealthy family with relations to the Asims, Jaseem’s status is nothing new to even the freshmen. Every year groups of students and parents from high status families would flock around him offering their sister/daughters hand in marriage.

Before he was allowed to bring Rana to school (don’t ask me how he did it-) Jaseem had no choice but to either 1. Run as fast as possible or 2. Teleport himself to a safe spot. Now with Rana, a fearsome tiger donning an expensive turquoise silk ribbon, nobody dares to approach Jaseem anymore.

Personality wise, Jaseem is extremely sharp-tongued and will not tolerate a single second on people he deems as childish. He is capable of cooperating with others but would prefer to work alone. Despite the cold exterior, if one can prove that they love tigers as much as he does.. maybe they’d stand a chance to win his attention. And if you can win his trust, Jaseem is probably the most loyal ally/friend you will ever get.

Having attended many arranged marriage meetings, Jaseem is already accustomed to how he must act around the ladies even if he dislikes interacting with them and entertaining their thoughtless comments about his wealth.

He is actually really bad at conveying his feelings, particularly romantic ones. He can no longer grasp the real meaning of love and has trust issues about whether someone is genuinely interested in him. This only numbed Jaseem more over the years hence brushing these feelings aside.

Jaseem has a general disliking towards women due to his past, but he will respect those who deserve it and mean their words. He won’t voice his opinions unless the situation gets on his nerves.

Jaseem’s mother was hospitalised when he was a young child and has been living there for many years, only visiting for a few days when the doctors deem her suitable. Due to schoolwork and other business matters, Jaseem is unable to visit her as much as his father. But he tries to make time for her as he feels most comfortable and at ease when talking to her about his troubles.

His father already told him that he will never marry another woman as he loves his wife very much, this made Jaseem envious as he hopes to be able to find someone he can stand by faithfully someday. While he feels that his father can be rather strict, both father and son have mutual respect for one another as they only want the best for the family.

Backstory

Back when the life wasn’t as complicated, Jaseem was extremely cheerful and lived every day to the fullest with the vast amount of wealth his family possessed.

However when he had reached the age of 10, his life began to fall apart. As the only son, Jaseem was forced to find a future wife sooner or later. From then on he had to attend countless numbers of arranged marriage meetings, parties while attending his father’s business conferences. Jaseem thought he could shoulder this responsibility , but that pressure would just build up later as he grew older.

Arranged marriage meetings were the worst. Jaseem learnt how shallow and sly people could be, faking their entire personality to coddle up to him for the sole purpose of attaining his family’s wealth. “But that’s just the reality of being the only heir isn’t it”, he thought. Jaseem became increasingly saddened over the fact that no one genuinely TRIED to understand his hobbies or know more about him, only throwing empty praises about his home/accessories/looks.

Since young Jaseem has been fascinated with tigers and his mother was the one who encouraged him to take care of one ( much to his father’s reluctance), thus Rana became his new family member. Many of his suitresses cringed at the sight of Rana whom they saw as a dirty, wild animal. Sometimes Jaseem’s father had no choice but to order the guards to take Rana away in order to force Jaseem to follow his schedule , which made him even more depressed.

Eventually, Jaseem had reached his breaking point during one of the parties and wanted to escape his “cage” even bringing Rana with him. It was then he met a young, white haired boy in the greenhouse. Jaseem couldn’t hold back his tears when the boy comforted him, claiming that he can share the same sentiments. It was after they were called to the main event where Jaseem learnt that the boy was no other than Kalim Al Asim, the oldest son and soon-to-be heir of one of the richest families in the world and his cousin.

From that moment onwards, the two spent their childhood days together basking in the sunlight and running around the mansion. They confided in each other, became each other’s source of strength to keep doing their best( this was especially stronger for Jaseem towards Kalim). They drifted a little after entering higher education, but still keep in contact.

For Jaseem, Kalim is the definition of the sun. Had he not met this smiley boy showing off his unique magic and telling him how he must continue to do his best as not only the heir but as an older brother too, Jaseem would have had a different fate and never face his reality. This explains why he hates Jamil to the core after knowing what he had done when he overblotted.

Current lifestyle for Jaseem was no different from his younger days, he still attends arranged marriage meetings (fewer due to school) and gets numerous phonecalls from his father about countries they have to fly to for business conferences. Jaseem became more adept at his dealings with women and can twist meetings to end faster to save his time to do something useful.. like picking a new silk ribbon for Rana. 🐯

Relationships

Kalim

Cousins by blood and childhood best friends. While many students in NRC thinks Kalim is way too carefree, Jaseem would cut in and tell them off as Kalim is not the oblivious rich boy many thinks he is.

He respects Kalim’s motto to be kind to others, lend a helping hand when needed and staying positive despite the challenges life throws at him. Jaseem wishes to protect this precious spirit, praying that Kalim will have nothing but happiness in his life. Jaseem truly looks up to Kalim for being able to smile through everything he’s been through, believing that he wouldn’t even survive a day in that household knowing he might not live to see the next day.

Jaseem can be extremely over protective of Kalim especially when Jamil is around. “I can’t let that damn snake cause any harm to my cousin..”he would think angrily while glaring at Jamil💀

Jamil

If not for the sake of his family image and Kalim Jaseem would have pummeled Jamil to the ground for the things he said and had done to Kalim. While he tries his best to understand Kalim, Jaseem still cannot fathom why he’d want to keep this traitor who doesn’t even consider him a friend by his side.

Unlike his caring and soft self when he is with Kalim, Jaseem treats Jamil like a mere servant and only replies with direct commands. Sometimes he would mock Jamil for the sake of belittling him, but would not stoop as low as to bring his family into it. The atmosphere around these two can be very intense indeed.

If Jaseem learns to see the overblot incident from Jamil’s point of view, perhaps he will come to understand that the two of them aren’t so different after all.

Najma

One of the few girls he respects, Jaseem is like a second older brother to Najma. Of course Najma catches on quick and can tell that Jaseem isn’t exactly fond of her brother, so she has to constantly remind Jaseem to stop frowning whenever he spots Kalim and Jamil together. He tries his best to be nicer to Jamil, but only because Najma wouldn’t stop nagging at him 🤣

Bonus: Rielle

If you’ve seen my old comics about my RSA ocs i often draw Jaseem and Rielle bickering 🤣 Jaseem thinks Rielle is incompetent and has dad issues while Rielle views Jaseem as a weirdo who is way too protective of his cousin, also why would any sane person bring a TIGER to school??

Fun facts about Jaseem’s design

He carries a waist pouch filled with Rana’s treats, various silk ribbons, water dispenser, comb and toys ( just to name a few). The pouch is magically altered to carry many items.

The tiger plush keychain was a gift from his mother when his parents brought him to an amusement park on his birthday. Jaseem did not have the best experience as he was constantly surrounded by guards and journalists, no other children wanted to play with the renowned heir too.

His seemingly blue day turned upside down when he spotted a cute tiger plush in the souvenir shop, thinking about how it looks exactly like Rana. Jaseem’s mother noticed his adoration for the fluffy toy on the top shelf and asked the staff to order one for Jaseem. Even though this silly fabric toy could not compare to the vast amount of gold and expensive gifts Jaseem received, he saw his mother’s gift as something invaluable that money can’t buy.

Till this day he still brings his tiger plush around with him chained to his waist pouch. Though it looks rather dull after being used for years, you can still tell how well washed and cared for it is by its owner.

I struggled trying to incorporate Jasmine’s hairband into the design but for now its a turquoise strand of hair that starts from the top of his head so it looks like a hairband! Its also Jaseem’s way of exploring with his own style knowing that he is far away from his home and strict upbringing. The first time Jaseem dyed his hair he thought “So this is what its like to be rebellious..interesting” 🤣

His earrings are different, the one on the right is a slightly thick gold piece ( OG Jasmine) while the left is a decorative earring with small, dangling chains and a huge jewel ( Live action Jasmine). I thought it would be cool to incorporate both earrings as I couldn’t settle on one.

END

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Jaseem too, I’m really happy with the response for Alison haha 😭 Till next time!

*Also I know someone addressed it before but I mean to express Jaseem’s love towards Kalim as familial, nothing more. How you choose to see my OCs is up to your interpretation so long as you don’t twist my words and stories i wrote for them :)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanart #twst oc #yaoyao_twstoc #Jaseem #kalim al asim #jamil viper

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blazinghotfoggynights · 2 months

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Can Team Tuck and Team Buddie please agree that both can exist and serve as positive spaces for queer male representation?

I've been thinking. Let me run something by you.

Oliver says he has always felt Buck was a bi-coded character? Right?

Does that mean when TK thought Buck was hitting on him, he was?

If Buck was always bi, but just didn't know it, are we supposed to believe he never flirted with Eddie just because his first kiss was with Tommy?

Was Tommy his bi awakening or was Tommy the embodiment of the attractive traits he has seen in a man he's been falling for over five seasons?

You can like or even love multiple people. Even at the same time! 😮

Believing that Buddie is or should be the endgame does not negate or disrespect Buck's arc with Tommy in any way. I question if Tommy was just a convenient character. He's a safe guy to explore Buck's evolution with. He has a history with members of the 118, but he is not integral to the cast. If it doesn't work out, he is easily explained away. Remember Natalia?

I think it is possible to have a Buck and Tommy centered arc, focused on Buck becoming comfortable with his sexuality and exploring it in a healthy, positive way and still have Buck and Eddie eventually realize they have been each other's person for years. Having both doesn't make the other any less important. How many people have dated others when their eventual life partner was right there? They had no idea they saw that person in that way.

Now that we know Buck is bi, it could lead to different interpretations of scenes:

Buck is looking at Eddie. Tommy is not there and we don't know for sure who Eddie was speaking to.

2. Look at that smile and his eyes at the end. Buck positively beams and bats his eyes when he realizes Eddie is going to look at him. That's how platonic friends look at each other?

3. But we can take it all the way back if we have to. Look at Buck when Eddie compliments him.

3b. Do you know what that reminds me of?

4. If Buck has subconciously been into guys for a long time, then this scene takes on a whole new context.

Moving closer to the other man? Check.

Eye contact? Check?

Smile and shy head duck? Check.

*I'd like to state that I have no doubt Edmundo Diaz knew Buck was into him. Look at the reaction.

5. When I'm into someone, you know what I don't talk about? Someone else.

6. Wow. Look at how Buck looks at Tommy.

6b. We have never seen that before have we?

Buck x Tommy and Buck x Eddie can coexist in harmony. Life stories are long and have jumpscares, plot twists, plot holes, etc.

Buck being genuinely attracted to Tommy doesn't mean that all the scenes from the past five seasons that made us all side-eye Evan Buckley didn't happen.

If we never get Buddie, let's just take the win. ABC said, "There are queer men in the world who are masculine, hot, and relatively stable. Let's show that."

Do we really need to talk about how the LGBTQ community was represented on their former network? I could stand on that soapbox and go off for days. Let's just say I know others who also felt some way about it, whether they were straight, queer, or allies.

I am just going to enjoy what is shaping up to be an amazing season. Moving to ABC breathed new life into 911 and I am excited. (Season six? Can we just not talk about it?)

#911 abc #9 1 1 buddie #911 on abc #buck x eddie #buddie 911 #buddie #eddie x buck #eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buck x tommy #tuck #oliver stark #ryan guzman #Lou Eng's metas

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starry-bi-sky · 5 months

Text

More clone^2 snippets

Snippet 12: hands

Lancer: dear god, Mr. Fenton, what happened to your hands!?

Danny, had a run in with Damian’s katana and both of his hands have stitches: um… cooking… accident. I can’t use them that much currently

Lancer, pale: right, yes, of course. You may have one of your friends right you notes until they are properly healed

————

Snippet 13: more hands (and dash is a dick)

Dash: I bet Fenturd’s just faking his hand injury to get out of doing class work. Getting out of classwork is my thing! I’ll show him.

Danny, minding his own business:

Dash, yanks on his fingers harshly: Freak! Did you think you could copy me and het away with it?

Danny, his stitches torn from the way Dash grabbed him: you’re the last person I’d want to copy Dash, let go.

Dash: we all know you’re faking the hand injury, there’s no way you’d— you’d—

(Danny’s hands are bleeding, and starting to smear on Dash’s hands.)

Danny, (fake) calmly: you were saying, Dash?

Dash: I - uh—

Danny: thanks for opening them up, jerk.

—————

Snippet 14: Danny is Bruce’s Clone and Bruce Wayne has been hottest man alive for many consecutive years

The A-Lister Girls are at a sleepover

Star: Never have I ever had a crush on Danny Fenton

All girls (including Star): puts a finger down

A-List Girl: Paulina put your finger down

Paulina, begrudgingly putting a finger down: he shouldn’t count - he’s a loser!

A-List Girl: he’s still the cutest boy in our grade. Put your damn finger down.

—————

Snippet 15: unstoppable force vs immovable object

(In the Clone Danny Au, since Danny is not a ghost Valerie doesn’t see Phantom as the guy who ruined her life, but a very exhausted vigilante trying his best. They’re allies with conflicting ideologies on how to handle ghosts.)

Red Huntress: are you kidding me, Phantom? You dragged a kid in with you to fight ghosts? I thought you were better than that

Wraith, offended: *opening his mouth*

Phantom, tiredly putting a hand over Damian’s mouth: *in ASL + one hand* you don’t think I tried to stop him?

Red Huntress: he’s a child, Phantom, how hard could it be?

Phantom: looks down at Wraith

Wraith: looks up at Phantom with the eyes of a hundred enraged bulls

Phantom, kneeling down to Wraith and pulling his mask up to show his mouth: *whispering inaudibly*

Wraith: *takes off in the opposite direction*

Phantom, standing up to Red: *ASL* well? go get him

————

Snippet 16: identity

(Danny and Damian are sitting on a rooftop, in the middle of a break from patrol. Damian sits between Danny’s legs and Danny is slumped over Damian’s back.)

Damian, playing with Danny’s fingers:

Danny: who are you?

Damian: Damian.

Danny: who are you not?

Damian: Damian Wayne.

Danny: do you have to be?

Damian: no.

Danny: who do you have to be?

Damian: I just have to be me.

Danny: who are you?

Damian: I’m Damian.

Danny: good.

Damian:

Danny:

Damian: who are you?

Danny, smiling: Danny

—————

Snippet 17: long hair

(In the Clone Danny Au, Danny’s hair goes to his shoulders. I was in a GNC mood at the time the au was made and it passed on to Danny.)

Tucker: are you going to cut your hair, Danny? It’s getting long.

Danny, laying against the bed frame with Sam doing his hair: probably to get the dead ends cut off. I like it long.

Sam: I like it long too.

Tucker: you like it long because he lets you do whatever you want to it

Sam: it’s also a stand against the oppressive stereotype that men can’t have long hair and must always have it short in order to appear masculine! Danny’s showing individuality and sticking it to the patriarchy at the same time!

Danny: and because I let you do whatever you want to it.

Sam, making a punk hairdo for danny: yea that too

——————

Snippet 18: Danny is Bruce Wayne’s clone and Bruce——

Danny, getting stuff from his locker: my parents have a new ‘Fenton anti-ghost sticky bomb’ they’re working on and—

Student with a photography camera: Hey, Fenton!

Danny, looking over: what?

Student: *snaps a photo* thanks!

Student walks away

Danny:

Tucker:

Sam:

Danny: so… um…. Is that- is that another Wes? Should I be worried?

Sam: you should be angry! He just took your picture without your consent! That’s a violation of your bodily autonomy.

Danny: we can keep an eye on it, Sam, and if it becomes an issue then I’ll report it to a teacher.

Danny: and as I was saying, I can’t wait to have to make sure that that doesn’t hurt anyone.

Danny: i love having to stay up late sabotaging my parents’ inventions. Yay…

—————

Snippet 19: Danny is Bruce’s clone and—

Wes: ranting about how Phantom = Danny and how there’s proof and he has it and—

Random Student from his photography club: you wanna kiss him so bad it makes you look stupid.

Wes: I do nOT

Student: Its okay Wes, so does literally everyone else.

—————

Snippet 20: Lookalike

Danny: the only good thing about being Bruce Wayne’s clone is that my Brucie Wayne Impression is spot on

Damian: what??

Danny: my Brucie Wayne impression. It shouldn’t be as fun as it is doing it

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dp x dc au #dpdc #dpxdc au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton is a clone #danny being bruce’s clone opens up funny shenanigans that I have yet to see be used in another aus #like the fact that Bruce Wayne is Incredibly Attractive and Danny being his clone means he looks like him #and is thus ALSO very attractive to his classmates #danny having a secret club of admirers is insanely funny to me #wes weston: ranting about danny being phantom #his classmate: u have such a crush #wes: yes but NO #danny and damian have a little mantra that they repeat back at each other #to remind themselves that they are their own people #ellie gets in on it too when she’s around no worries #red huntress at wraith: child #wraith: and i took that personally fUCK YOU #damian doesnt know any asl so he currently Cant Say Shit in front of the living #he’s learning english danny will save the asl for later #this also means bby dames gets Smug bc he’s (one of) the only living person danny talks to as phantom #young children are possessive and bby dames being slightly possessive of his older brother #is very funny and very endearing to me #clone^2

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theminecraftbee · 6 months

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Here is how to slowly, completely, and irrevocably fall into having someone know your soul as well as you do theirs:

First, be enemies, but of circumstance. Neither of you were really on opposite sides so much as connected to them. You think he loved them, though, that side that was only your enemy by virtue of not being your ally. He loved them, even if he didn't spend as much time with them. You mock him for this. For calling their leader 'king'. (Later, you'll hold onto mockery like it's all you have. You know it's not a game and you know he was really king, but without your ability to make fun of what's happening, you won't be much at all.)

You have a best friend then. This, too, is almost an accident, although to explain all the ways it's also on purpose will take longer than you have to explain. He's wonderful, and loyal, and going to die. So you die fast and young first, before him. You die in front of your friend. You die in front of him.

You don't regret it, the dying young, because it means you die before anyone else can die for you.

Second, watch your best friend fall in love with him, although that phrase feels both too pedestrian and too much like it's overstating the thing that really happens. You have your own drama for too long to really understand how it happens, of course. You're too busy facing a betrayal that will scrape the inside of your soul forever. (To tell the truth, you've already forgiven him for it, but there's something easy about being each other's enemies, so you keep going, orbiting around each other in betrayal betrayal betrayal. But that's someone else who knows your soul, another story.)

Then your best friend dies, as does nearly everyone else. You sit around a campfire with him. You tell him that your best friend trusts him; you'll trust him too. He stands by your side near the end, the two of you running together, another man's memories on your lips.

You're not sure what you regret, then, but you know there's something that won't undo that's a part of you now.

Third, learn the value of choices, as the universe tries its best to take yours from you. In this one, the people you're by the side of is at once familiar and strange. The finalists who'd protected you last time are now an ugly mix of your chosen soulmate and your enemy by making that choice; you attempt to hold on to your ability to choose even as blood makes it clear you can't. (The universe tried to pick someone who would fit you well, you realize later. More people who know your soul that this story isn't actually about. You care for him too, is the thing; you care for choosing more.)

You don't see him much, this time. You respect each other, though. It's hard not to respect each other after everything that's happened. Still, you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. Instead, you see the end of the game. You nearly hold it in your fingers.

You regret. You regret deeply. You are so tired of watching people die, you think, and you regret more than anything else that you couldn't stop it.

Fourth, become enemies, but this time intentionally. Enemies, maybe, is a strong word; you're assigned co-parents, except bad, divorced ones. There's something hysterical about the whole thing, in both the comedic sense of the word and in the original, more concerning sense, especially given the way you all have thought about your best friend-now-son in the past. (Family ties are a thing you'll come to value; it's just that what the names are don't count, really, not when you do this again and again and again. Plus, it's nice to be able to have an excuse to yell.)

It's almost fun again. Maybe it's almost fun. You trade barbs with each other, and try to kill each other, and this time the consequences are light enough that you try to help each other, too. You see each other a lot. You're enemies, of course, but you see each other a lot, as you are: scared, and tired, and not as frightening as you appear, and happy, despite it all.

You don't regret much. You die fast and young, alongside your allies. You see his face before you do though, and you think he's the one with regrets.

Fifth, trip over him as you run across the first session of a new game. You don't know yet what this one will be, if it will be betrayals, or more stolen choices, or family, or fun, or anything else, but you look him in the eyes and make a choice. You will be friends this time instead of enemies. And it's nice. He and you fit together oddly now, but well, despite the oddities. You've had time to learn to, from a distance, and then closer and closer. (People seem baffled you're friends now. You wish you could explain that that's how these stories go sometimes.)

You're pretty certain he'll leave you when the time comes. He says he's a runner, and not a protector, and yet, when the time comes to betray you, you both know he won't hurt you, and you're both surprised anyway.

"You might regret this," you tell him quietly. You both have scars.

"You might regret this," he agrees. But you also both have choices.

"Okay," you say. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"Cleo," he says, brushing your hair aside, and he doesn't answer.

"I don't think I have," you say honestly. "I think it's something else. Have you ever accidentally given someone a piece of your soul?"

"All the time," he says, and that's that.

The end is coming soon. You'll find out if you regret it.

#secret life smp #secret life spoilers #zombiecleo #ethoslab #a bee fic #trafficshipping #<- YEAH OKAY THIS IS A LITTLE MORE BLATANT THAN I NORMALLY AM.#you can read this platonically if you WANT but. it's. yeah it needs the tag.#anyway etho and cleo are soulmates but they're soulmates who very slowly and almost accidentally slid into being it #who built their way up to soulmates over time #do you understand me.#...also it DOES strike me the irony of tagging shipping on the fic where the lead SPECIFICALLY SAYS she hasn't fallen in love but #YOU KNOW. ITS THE VIBES.

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wineauntie · 4 months

Text

CEILINGS — luke hughes x childhood bestfriend!reader

summary: being childhood best friends with luke hughes starts to become a problem when you realise you can’t fathom a future without him.

notes: this took me so long to write but I love it, and maybe I’ll write a part two?? also take a shot every time I make direct reference to the titular song atp 🙏

warnings: borderline nsfw content, MDNI, fem!reader, reader has not-so-great parents, panic attacks, alcohol, swearing, nicknames such as: pretty girl and baby, swearing, questionable moments on both of your behalf, boys being jerks. Use of names Brock and Julia (if they’re your names change it!). The name Brock being slandered, these two are lowkey toxic, cheating.

word count: 8.5k+

On a Friday night at eighteen years old, you should've been out with friends causing chaos; at least that's what all the books and videos on Tiktok had suggested, yet you'd been lying on your bed for hours, just staring at the ceiling ahead of you, your hands interlaced on your stomach. You only shifted slightly when you'd received the text. There was only one person whose notifications hadn't been muted, so as soon as the twinkling sound chimed, your hand darted to your phone.

"Back porch, five minutes, we're going for a drive :)"

You'd let yourself smile as you sat up from the bed and replied to him with a thumbs up.

You had been best friends with Luke Hughes since birth. It's an odd thing to say, you admit, but it was the truth. Your mom and Ellen had been college roommates and when they both fell pregnant, your mom with her first child and Ellen with her third, they like to claim that they knew the two of their children would be best friends.

You saw the Hughes family as often as your family could. Your families would meet up for major holidays, video call on birthdays, and send and receive cards for any occasion. And despite the physical distance often created throughout your childhood, you and the Hughes brothers were close.

So when your parents took permanent residence across the street from the Hughes family a few years ago, you were delighted.

Your parents worked hard to provide for the family, and due to their long hours, you often spent your teen years within the Hughes household. From the moment you moved you and Luke had hit it off right away, it was as if an unspoken bond formed like a secret handshake between two souls destined to intertwine. Luke, with his mischievous grin and infectious enthusiasm, became your steadfast ally in navigating the rollercoaster of youth.

As the years unfolded, so did the subtle shifts in your dynamic. The innocent playdates evolved into late-night conversations, and the familiar comfort between the two of you began to carry a hint of something more profound. Unbeknownst to you, the heart that once beat solely for friendship found a new rhythm in Luke's company, an unspoken sentiment growing like a quiet bloom in the garden of their shared memories.

You brushed off all the signs of anything other than friendship. He was your best friend. You couldn't allow yourself to feel that way about him. At eighteen, the two of you had thrived as friends and everybody knew that where you went Luke would follow and vice versa.

You slipped on your shoes and made your way downstairs. Your parents were working, leaving you with the house to yourself, a fact Luke knew all too well. As you approached your back porch you saw Luke standing outside, a pair of keys dangling in his hand. As you slid open the door, you shot him a quizzical look.

"How on earth did your mom let you take her car?!" You questioned, shutting the door tightly behind you.

"Don't sound so surprised," he rolled his eyes, as the two of you made your way back towards the road where Ellen's car was parked.

"But I am surprised…Luke, you're not a great driver," you deadpan, your arms crossing as he opened the passenger door for you to hop in. You shoot him a look before climbing in carefully.

"You crash into one mailbox, one time and all of a sudden it's 'you're a bad driver, Luke.'" He scoffed to himself as he closed your door before getting in on his side.

"Except it wasn't just one mailbox, it was five and you took them out one after the other," You argued with a raised brow and a knowing smile, your eyes tracking him as he put the key in the ignition.

"Whatever, do you want milkshakes or not?" He asked, tilting his head towards you. Your protests died behind your closed mouth. "Hm…That's what I thought."

"Whatever," You mimicked, turning up the radio as he drove. "I'm on aux though."

"Fine!" Luke scowled,

"Fine!"

—

You and Luke had pulled into the public park and exited the car with your milkshakes in hand as you two made your way towards the benches, ignoring the brewing dark clouds overhead.

These benches were a sacred space to you two. Every debrief, every apology, every important conversation tended to happen on them. You two didn't exactly know when they became sacred but they were now and the two of you cherished the open space.

"How are things with your parents," Luke started as he sipped on his shake, whilst you situated yourself cross-legged on the bench.

"They're…good," you trailed off, giving him a pointed look as you drank. "Still fighting, still avoiding coming home until they have to. I don't really pay attention to it anymore."

"Fuck, y/n," he sighed, shaking his head. "Why don't you just come stay with us for a while? Y'know Mom and Dad love having you over."

"I know," you nod, your head falling to your chest. "I just…it's better if I'm home, Lu."

Luke frowned but made no attempt to push his idea any further upon noticing your discomfort. The quiet settled over the two of you as you both sipped at your drinks. You knew all too well that Luke had more to say about the matter but, you also knew he wouldn't continue once you'd shut him down.

"Besides, they don't argue much when I'm around," you added, causing Luke to roll his eyes at your false nonchalance.

The rain began to fall in delicate droplets, a soft pitter-patter on the leaves above as the once clear sky morphed into a canvas of ominous grey. You and Luke exchanged knowing glances as the first raindrops kissed the ground.

Abandoning your sacred benches, you and Luke started a brisk walk towards the car, milkshakes almost forgotten in the face of the unrelenting downpour. The once serene park transformed into a dance floor for raindrops, and you could feel the wetness creeping into your shoes.

The droplets turned into a gentle drizzle, gradually evolving into a torrential downpour. You paused in your tracks, letting the rain engulf you as it soaked you to your skin. Your head raised towards the sky with a small, childish grin, feeling your hair stick to your face and neck.

"Y/N, c'mon," Luke called out as he faltered, just steps ahead of you. He found himself doubling back and latching his on yours as he urged you to move. You lowered your head back to normality and snapped back into reality as you resumed running towards the car.

The moment you reached the vehicle, you swung open the door and hopped inside, the interior providing solace from the relentless rain. Droplets clung to your clothes, and as you settled into the driver's seat, Luke glanced over, a mix of worry and amusement in his eyes.

"Looks like we picked the wrong day for milkshakes," he remarked with a half-smile, wiping rainwater from his face.

You chuckled with a hint of resignation in your voice. "Typical us, right? Managing to find ourselves out in the middle of a storm despite the perfect weather earlier." Luke huffed out a laugh, his hands smoothing back his hair. You moved in your seat wincing as the dampness sloshed in your shoes. "Urgh, My shoes are full of water!" Your face screwed up as you whined.

The car's interior provided a cocoon of warmth, starkly contrasting the cold rain outside. Luke fumbled for the keys, and the engine roared to life, drowning out the sounds of the raindrops on the roof. Silence enveloped you both, the rhythmic beating of rain against the car forming a backdrop to the unspoken words hanging in the air.

As the car pulled away from the park, you stole a glance at Luke. His profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights, revealed the familiar contours of a friend who had weathered many storms with you. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were carefully pursed. The question about your parents lingered, unsaid but not forgotten.

"You know, Y/N," Luke finally spoke, taking a deep breath and breaking the silence. He kept his eyes on the road. "I know I said it before but, our house is always open to you and maybe you don't want to and that's fine. But I don't want you to be lonely in that house. Alone is fine, lonely…not so much."

Your gaze met the side of his face, gratitude and a touch of sadness reflecting in your eyes. "I know that, Lu. More than you know." Your quiet voice replied, you moved your pinky towards his and looped it through. "I promise I'll come over if it gets bad."

Luke nodded and let his pinky squeeze yours momentarily before you let go as a pained understanding remained etched on his features. The car continued its journey through the rain-soaked streets, the cityscape blurred by water-streaked windows. Unspoken sentiments lingered, intertwined with the melody of raindrops and the hum of the engine.

As you parked the car by your home, the rain showed no sign of relenting. Your eyes wandered out of the car window towards the house when you spotted both of your parent's respective cars in the driveway. At the sight, you found yourself tensing, Luke's eyes examining your stiffened figure.

You exhaled shakily, trying to mentally prepare for the arguing as you and Luke exchanged a silent acknowledgement, a shared understanding that some storms couldn't be avoided. With a sigh, you braced yourself for the inevitable.

"I'll walk you to the back porch," Luke decided, his eyes unmoving from your crestfallen face. Your eyes glanced towards him and with a silent nod, the two of you exited the car and into the rain.

Luke grabbed your arm as you both ran towards the back of the house, trying your best to avoid slipping. As you rounded the house, the boy pulled you beneath the shelter of the porch, his hands around your waist as he moved you towards the back door.

"It's always like this!"

"Why do you always make a big deal out of nothing!"

Your tense body froze in your steps as Luke crashed into your back. The loud and harsh arguing voices of your parents faded away as you shook nervously. The world around you faded, and even Luke disappeared from your view, the only thing you were able to process was the rising swell of panic.

Luke sensed the sudden shift in the atmosphere as your body tensed, your breaths becoming shallow. Panic, like an uninvited guest, seized your senses, and the echoes of your parents' heated voices blended with the drumming rain, forming a dissonant symphony in your ears.

He gently steered you towards the car, concern etched across his face. The raindrops blurred with your welling tears as you fumbled to find solace in the familiar cocoon of the car. Luke slid into the driver's seat, his hands gripping the wheel with a reassuring firmness.

The confined space intensified the swirling chaos within you, the reality of your parents' constant battles tearing through the fragile facade you maintained. The world outside blurred, and Luke's voice reached you like a distant echo.

"Hey, look at me," he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours. "Deep breaths, Y/N, okay?"

His words appeared as a lifeline, a desperate attempt to anchor you amidst the storm raging within. You nodded, albeit shakily, and followed his guidance, inhaling the air that hung heavy with the scent of rain and exhaling the suffocating grip of anxiety.

As Luke continued to coach you through each breath, his voice a steady rhythm in the chaos, he sensed the need for a stronger anchor. Tentatively, he reached out, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a silent promise of support. The warmth of his touch cut through the icy tendrils of panic, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

The rain painted a rhythmic tableau on the car roof, a lullaby attempting to soothe your frayed nerves. Luke's presence, a constant in the turbulence, became a lifeline, a connection to something stable amid the chaos.

But even the most steadfast anchors can falter in the face of relentless storms. Your panic intensified, a tempest of emotions threatening to engulf you. Luke, watching with his own panic brewing. He'd never seen you in this state. Sensing the urgency, he wracked his brain for any idea or thought to try to calm you down. He ran a stressed hand through his curls before he turned towards you.

"Please, don't hate me," He begged with a mumble as he leaned closer to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your trembling lips.

The world paused.

In that stolen moment, the rain outside seemed to quieten completely. The unexpected touch of his lips against yours sent a shockwave through the tempest within you. His hand lifted to cup your cheek whilst your heart raced, just this time not in panic. Time seemed to stand still as the kiss unfolded, a moment suspended between the echoes of arguments and the rhythm of raindrops. Luke's kiss, an uncharted territory in your shared history, left a lingering warmth amidst the storm.

When he pulled away, uncertainty clouded both your gazes. The rain continued its symphony on the car roof, a backdrop to the unspoken revelation that had just transpired. The world outside the car, soaked and chaotic, mirrored the complex emotions swirling within.

"Luke…," your voice faltered, words caught in the whirlwind of conflicting feelings.

"Y/N, I…," he began, his expression a mix of regret and longing.

The revelation hung between you like a suspended note in the silence, a chord struck amid chaos. The car, once a sanctuary, now felt like an arena where unspoken truths echoed louder than the rain outside.

"I didn't know what to do," Luke finally spoke, breaking the tension. His gaze held an intensity, a vulnerability laid bare in the confined space. "I'm sorry…But seeing you like this, I couldn't stand by and watch you suffer."

His words resonated with the implicit sentiments that had lingered between you, the undercurrents of something more profound than friendship.

"You kissed me," you whispered, the realization settling in.

"I did," Luke admitted, his eyes blinking carefully as he searched yours for any sign of lingering panic.

You took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken feelings lifting, replaced by a newfound clarity.

"Luke, I don't…I'm just," you finally stammered, you're head was swimming into the depths of the unknown. You're fingers brushed against your lips as the moment replayed through your head. It had felt like a movie as if one of the countless romcoms you'd watched on repeat decided to possess your life.

"Yeah, no, forget it, you don't have to say anything…I'll walk you to the porch again," Luke rushed as he offered, his hand finding yours as a silent reassurance. Disappointment flooded your stomach as your eyebrows creased. The rain had transformed from a tumultuous force to a gentle drizzle, once more, as you stepped out of the car.

As you approached the back porch, Luke's once mischievous grin, and infectious enthusiasm, now carried the weight of what had just happened.

The porch creaked beneath the two of you, the voices from inside your house now dimmed. You silently moved towards the back door as you pushed open the door. You turned to face your best friend, where Luke's eyes met yours. You felt your gut twist as your gaze lingered on him, your eyes pleading for anything to be said.

"Thank you," you muttered, your eyes welling up as you stepped inside, leaving the rain-soaked porch and Luke behind.

You and Luke hadn't spoken of the kiss since that moment. In fact, it took three weeks for the two of you to stop avoiding each other and to fall back into step with your usual banter, yet there was an extra weight on the conversation, straining it for the both of you.

Luke Hughes had known you for approximately eighteen years, four months, and three days…and for approximately fourteen years, five months and two days, he knew he'd been in love with you.

The kiss you'd shared in the car two months ago had sparked every nerve in his body, and he'd found himself swept up by the tide and deposited on the remote island of not knowing what the hell to do. Especially since you'd never said anything else about the kiss after it's happened. The two of you had just moved on as if nothing had happened, and Luke hated it…even more so when you'd found yourself in a relationship of sorts with a boy on the football team.

The football team!

And to make matters worse, his name was Brock!

Brock! As if his parents had sneezed whilst writing out his birth certificate.

Luke had to watch with pain as you'd sit with his arm around you, laugh with, flirt with, and kiss him instead of doing all those things with Luke.

So, when you'd called him crying, asking if he could come get you from a house party, he was already out the door and in the driver's seat of his mom's car.

You were sitting on the curb of the pavement, your hands cradling your chin as you cried. Your phone has died as soon as you'd texted Luke your location. A cold breeze swept over your bare legs and arms, despite the fact they were huddled to your chest.

Your teary eyes watched as the familiar car pulled up in front of you. You wanted to sob in relief as Luke hopped out and practically ran towards you. You allowed him to wrap you in a hug, the warm embrace causing you to cry harder.

"Jesus Christ, y/n/n," Luke cursed as he pulled away. "Where's your coat? It's freezing out here!" He pulled away and yanked off his jacket before carefully laying it over your shoulders. "What happened?"

"Can we please go?" Your broken voice destroyed all of Luke's frustration. He nodded stiffly and helped you stand before he escorted you into the passenger seat, helping buckle you up as you sunk into the familiar comfort of the car. He shut your door gently and crossed back over into the driver's side.

"Y/N, if someone did something–" Luke started angrily as he shut his door firmly, his hands turning the key in the ignition.

"Brock's been cheating on me," you cut him off, your tears still falling. Luke looked towards you in shock, his mouth slightly agape.

"That bastard," Luke swore, unbuckling his seat belt as he began to move as if to storm down the street to the house party.

"Please, can you just bring me home?" You sniffled tearfully, "I just want to go…" Luke paused, nodded stiffly and restarted the car once more.

The car rolled smoothly through the quiet streets as you sat in a cocoon of Luke's jacket, warming up from the chilly night air. The silence between you spoke volumes, echoing the unspoken feelings and unresolved tension

Your head was splayed against your forehead as you leaned against the car door. Your head was a mess, the night taking its horrible toll. The engine hummed softly, a backdrop to the heavy air thick inside the car.

It didn't take long for Luke to finally turn to you, his expression a mix of concern and frustration which immediately softened upon seeing your tear-streaked face. "Y/N, don't cry. You deserve better and you know it." His eyebrows furrowed as you looked away.

"I know, Lu, but it's not that simple." You sighed, wiping away lingering tears.

"Yes, it is." His jaw clenched, and he spoke with an intensity that betrayed his emotions. "You deserve someone who treats you right, not someone who leaves you on the side of the road crying."

The truth hung in the air, but you hesitated to acknowledge it fully. "Luke, can we just…talk normally?" You begged.

"Yeah, of course, y/n/n." His voice quieted, as he nodded. His fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel.

"Apparently…He's been cheating on me since the start of our relationship," you whispered, daring to glance towards Luke, whose fists tightened on the wheel. "I only found out because I wouldn't sleep with him tonight…he said something along the lines of; "This is why I find it elsewhere"…" You let out a dry laugh, your tears rolling down your cheeks.

"He said he'd been sleeping with girls every time I wouldn't 'put out'." Your teeth sunk into your lip as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to tip over.

"I've never…" you paused, wondering if this conversation would cross the line from a causal friendship conversation into TMI. "I just wanted to be sure that I really liked him before I…" You trailed off, waving your hand as you looked towards the window again. "But that moment never came, I never felt like I wanted to…hell, I've only known him a month!"

Luke was quiet as he indicated down the street both you and he lived on. His jaw was clenched in fury, his mouth pursed to try to keep the frustrations from pouring out.

"I'm going to kill him," Luke finally uttered as calmly as possible. "He's a dick, y/n/n…"

"Yeah…" you mumbled, your eyes moving towards Luke's shadowed figure. "I won't stop you, he is a dick…I just thought that he really liked me.'

Even if you didn't wholly like him.

Your throat tightened at the afterthought while Luke pulled up outside his house. You'd looked away shamefully at your thought because, truth be told, you liked the idea that Brock could like you. You just thought that with time, you could like him too. That your heart could be swayed away from loving your best friend. Your face screwed up at the idea as you let out a shaky exhale.

Your eyes darted across the street to where your empty house was, sadness overwhelming you as you peered out. Things with your parents had gotten worse lately, and now they wouldn't speak to each other, and you got caught in the silent crossfire.

"Come on," Luke swung your door open. You were so caught up in your misery that you hadn't even realised he'd left the car. "You can stay the night in mine… Mom and Dad are gone to visit friends out of state."

You didn't bother to argue. You knew at this stage it would be pointless. You also knew that you didn't want to return home to the weight of your house's silence. You walked side by side with Luke up the driveway, your hands curled around his jacket over your shoulders, ensuring that it wouldn't slip.

The front door creaked open, and you both stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The familiar scent of your home enveloped you, offering a strange comfort amidst the chaos of emotions. You stood awkwardly, something you've never done inside the house. Luke examined your face before he quietly led you to his room, a familiar space that held the echoes of so many memories. The dim glow of his bedside lamp cast shadows on the walls as he led you to sit on the bed.

"I'll let you change into something more comfortable," Luke offered, gesturing towards a drawer with spare clothes. You nodded in appreciation, feeling a wave of exhaustion and vulnerability.

Luke was a giver. You'd known this even when you were little. He would give out kindness and laughter so easily, so freely…at least to you he would. You wanted to cry again at how caring he was being in this moment. You'd felt so selfish calling him earlier to come and get you but he'd been the only one to jump into your mind when you'd stumbled out of the house.

"These will probably fit," he stated, holding out a t-shirt and sweatpants toward you. You looked up at him, his soft brown, pleading eyes. You gulped as you stood once more and moved to the bathroom to change.

As you changed, the reality of the night's events sank in. The weight of betrayal, the unravelling of a relationship, and the unexpected solace found in Luke's presence all converged within you. When you emerged from the bathroom in Luke's oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, he was sitting against the headboard of his bed, a concerned expression etched on his face.

He patted the space beside him, and you sank onto the bed, the mattress providing a soft embrace. You couldn't even begin to count the number of times the two of you had fallen asleep on this bed together after watching movies or talking all night, so sitting with Luke was no unusual feat. The silence hung between you, laden with unspoken words and shared understanding. His eyes traced the contours of your face, his concern deepening.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for tonight. You didn't deserve that," Luke spoke softly, his sincerity resonating in the hushed room.

"Thanks, Lu," you whispered, your voice wavering. "I just wished he didn't affect me like this…we were only casual. He said he didn't like to label things."

He shifted closer, his arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders, offering a silent reassurance. The warmth of his presence acted as a balm, soothing the raw edges of your emotions. A small, grateful smile played on your lips as you leaned into his comforting embrace.

"You know, I've always hated that guy," Luke suddenly confessed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "But seeing you like this just makes me want to punch him even more."

Despite the heaviness of the situation, a soft laugh escaped your lips.

Oh, that laugh…Luke thought he'd never hear a sound more beautiful than that laugh. His eyebrows slightly scrunched together as he grinned lazily at you.

"I mean, who names their kid Brock? It's like setting him up for a lifetime of being a jerk."

You chuckled, the weight of the evening momentarily lifted by Luke's playful banter as you looked up at him. He was still talking animatedly, his rage settling so as not to take his anger for Brock out on you in any way. You watched with gentle eyes as he spoke, your bottom lip between your teeth as your thoughts drifted.

"What's wrong?!" Luke suddenly questioned, his eyes wide as if he'd somehow upset you.

"I thought you mightn't come get me…" you admitted carefully.

"I'll always come for you, you know that, right?" Luke stated seriously, his breath tickling your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat as you nodded. "I know, Luke… I just thought that…" you found yourself guiltily trailing off.

The room fell into silence, the only sound being the rhythmic breathing and the distant hum of the night outside. Your eyes met Luke's, and in that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between you. It was as if the weight of unacknowledged feelings lingered in the air. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to happen.

"Luke," you started, your voice soft, "we haven't been the same since that kiss…I've noticed it, and I know you've noticed it. I was scared you wouldn't come because it would be too awkward."

Luke's eyes widened slightly, and you could see a mixture of surprise and anticipation in them. The air in Luke's room thickened with tension, and for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist.

"I've noticed it," Luke shamefully admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the delicate balance that had settled between you.

"It meant something to you, didn't it?" you ventured, your gaze searching his eyes for confirmation. "That kiss?"

Luke hesitated, the vulnerability in his eyes mirroring your own. "Yeah, it did," he finally answered, his voice laced with honesty.

The admission hung in the air, and a charged energy filled the room. Time seemed to slow down as the unspoken tension between you finally surfaced. Luke's hand found yours, fingers intertwining, and a warmth spread through both of you.

"I don't know why I chose that moment, y/n/n, I mean, I shouldn't have," Luke confessed, his eyes never leaving yours. "But that kiss… it was everything."

Your heart raced as you let out a small gasp. You felt as if the world was playing a cruel joke. This couldn't be real…this wasn't allowed to be real. You'd been suppressing your feelings for so long, all for what? For him to kiss you and admit that it meant something- meant everything? This was a sick and cruel game sent from the universe, and you no longer wanted to play it.

"Everything?" You repeated nervously, your eyes falling carefully to his chest.

"Everything," Luke's velvety voice confirmed as you raised your fingers to trail along his jawline. He sucked in a shallow breath, as you pushed yourself up closer to him, your nose almost touching his.

Before he could speak again, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. It felt like a culmination of years of unspoken emotions, a release of feelings that had been bottled up for far too long. Your thumb stroked his cheekbones as you leaned further into the kiss.

The kiss unfolded like a carefully choreographed ballet. Your fingers creeping towards the curls at the nape of his neck, whilst his hands found solace in the small of your back. It was a dance of exploration, a nuanced ballet of tactile discovery that resonated with the silent poetry of longing and fulfilment.

Your breaths synchronized, creating a rhythm that echoed the heartbeat of your connection. He tasted like a blend of strawberries and nostalgia, while you savoured the warmth of his embrace, a comforting refuge from the chaos of the world.

Your kiss grew more desperate as his fingers gripped your waist, your fingers lightly tugging his hair. In a swift move, Luke had pulled you on top of him, so that you straddled his lower body, your lips unmoving from his. You felt the vibration of his groan rumble through you as you shifted on his lap, pushing to get as close to him as possible.

You felt Luke's hands pull you towards him, provoking you to let a small gasp slip as you rolled your hips against him. Another groan ripped through Luke as he pulled away. He shifted, attempting to hide what was happening, but he couldn't fool you, you'd felt him grow harder against your thigh. His forehead leaned towards yours as you both caught your breath. Your hand lingered in his hair, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Y/N…we shouldn't do this, not tonight," Luke spoke, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he nudged your nose with his.

"I want you, Lu," you murmured with shut eyes. "I want it to be with you."

"Open your eyes, pretty girl," Luke softly ordered, to which you immediately obliged, a fluttering sensation erupting in your stomach. "I need you to tell me that you are okay right now. That you want this one hundred percent, I won't go any further until you are."

"Luke, I trust you more than you could ever know," you state, your voice steady and clear. "I want this to happen with you."

Luke felt himself fill with pride at her words as he nodded. He leaned forward to capture your lips once more. You melted into the embrace whilst his fingers moved under his T-shirt on your body and traced circles along your warm skin. You careened into his touch as he moved away from your mouth and let his lips kiss down your neck.

"I'm going to take this off now, okay?" He murmured against your ear as he tugged on your T-shirt. You nodded but felt him pull back, his fingers tapping under your chin so you'd look at him. "Words are important here, y/n/n… I want to make sure you're comfortable at every step."

"You can take it off," you say breathily, as his fingers slid along the hem.

"Good," Luke hummed and cautiously lifted the shirt over your head. He let out a small breath of air upon revealing your bare torso. You'd taken off your bra when you'd gotten changed earlier, and now you were more than thankful for that. "Fuck, pretty girl," he cursed with a small smile which caused you to bashfully bow your head.

Luke moved your chin once more, so you could lock eyes with him, his golden brown searching your gaze for any hesitance. "If at any stage you want to stop, you say it, y/n," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair out of your face. "You won't hurt my feelings, and I won't be mad. I mean it…you say stop, and everything stops, no matter what."

You flushed at his punctuated words, your chin bobbing before you remembered what he'd said previously.

"Alright," you agreed whilst your hands curled around his shoulders. "I promise."

With a satisfied nod, Luke's hands were back on your waist as he manoeuvred you, so your back hit the soft mattress, with him hovering over you. Your fingers clutched at the collar of his jumper as you pulled him down towards you, frantically moving your lips to his. Your head fell back against the pillow as Luke resumed his kisses down your neck. Your fingers tugged through the soft curls on the back of his head as you writhed beneath his touch.

"Luke," you gasped out, your lip trembling in desire as he moved towards your chest, his fingers sliding beneath the waistband of the sweatpants you wore.

"You are driving me crazy," he groaned out, his eyes flickering up towards you. You looked down at him with half-lidded eyes as he pressed delicate kisses down your sternum and stomach, stopping just above your pants. "Please, can I take these off, pretty girl?" His voice sounded desperate as if you were depriving him of the only oxygen left on the planet.

"Yes…please," you stammered whilst he chuckled lowly and placed his lips momentarily on your hip before he pulled the sweatpants down, his eyes unmoving from yours. You felt a series of goosebumps spread across your body as he gently removed the article of clothing from your legs and flung the pants across the room.

"Luke," you whined as his fingers crept up your thigh almost teasingly. "Need more…need you, please!"

You felt the soft whisper of breath against your leg as Luke moved to sit up on his knees and yanked his jumper and T-shirt off in one fell swoop. Your jaw fell open at the sight, your fingers reaching out to brush his bare skin. You'd seen him in this state before, multiple times in fact, but this time was different, it was as if the light had shifted, no longer basking him in the shadows but allowing the light to shine solely on him.

"Oh, y/n/n," he sighed with a lazy grin as he looked down at your almost naked form. You squirmed beneath his wandering gaze, your hands moving to cover yourself. He tutted and took both of your hands in his and placed them on his shoulders, his eyes continuing to drink you in.

With the way he was looking at you, you would've thought someone had shown him the moon for the first time, pointing out its effervescent glow and the white, comforting light that washed over the world's darkness dousing it with hope.

You watched with bated breath as he pressed kisses down one of your arms right down to your shoulder, where he nestled his head in the base of your neck.

"I don't know how I lasted this long without you like this." He murmured against your hot skin, his fingers traipsing up your leg to hold your knee to his side. Your breath caught in your throat at the movement, your blown pupils following him at every move he made. "I'm going to ask one last time, pretty girl, are you sure about this?"

You gently lifted Luke's head so that you were face to face with him, your breaths mixing as he waited for your reply.

"Surer than I've ever been about anything," you say definitively, watching as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Luke grinned as he pressed himself against you, the only thing truly separating them being the scraps of fabric on their lower halves.

The room was charged with anticipation as Luke's lips found yours once more, the shared understanding and unspoken emotions weaving a delicate tapestry between you. At that moment, as your bodies intertwined, you both surrendered to the magnetic pull that had lingered since that unforgettable kiss in the car.

You sunk into the warmth of Luke's embrace offered solace amidst the chaos of emotions, creating a sanctuary where unspoken feelings found their voice and where your bodies intertwined and breaths synchronized, a newfound understanding emerging.

The unspoken tension that had lingered for months finally surfaced, and with heartfelt admissions, the connection deepened. The night became a canvas painted with shared vulnerability and the beauty of acknowledging long-suppressed desires.

You glanced at the clock on Luke's bedside table as it blinked the red, vibrant numbers of three forty-three am. Your bare body lay buried under the weight of the bed sheets and Luke's forearm around your stomach. The ache had settled between your legs, leaving your nakedness and his, as well as the mottled purple at the base of your neck as the only evidence of your night together. His body was pressed into your back, the steady thrumming of his heart lulling you. His other arm was stretched out, lying beneath your head as you fiddled with his fingers.

This was quite possibly the loveliest thing you'd experienced.

It was the perfect comfort from the chaos of your life. He was the perfect comfort. You shifted carefully, turning over as Luke let out a soft groan, pulling your body closer to his. Your lips tugged upwards as his arms engulfed you as if you were his favourite childhood teddy bear. You leaned your head to his chest, relishing the familiar warmth that it offered.

He was so cute, you'd thought, staying as still as possible as his head had moved to lay just above yours. Even in his sleep, Luke seemed to want to protect and cradle you from any and all harm. You wanted to scream from the rooftops just how much this boy meant to you, just how much you cherished him, but if that meant disturbing the serenity that has blossomed in the aftermath, you would be willing to wait.

You curled into him, your legs intertwining with his as your breaths steadied, and you allowed the calmness of sleep to wash over you.

–

You'd felt the bed shift beneath your exhausted body as the boy beside you stretched out his limbs with a silent yawn. The soft glow of morning seeped through the curtains, casting a warm hue on the tangled sheets and two intertwined bodies. Your eyes fluttered open, hazel orbs meeting yours, as his usual, familiar smile graced his lips. Luke's sleepy eyes met yours, a lazy smile gracing his lips. The remnants of the night's passion lingered in the air, a shared secret between you two.

"Morning," he mumbled, his voice a low, soothing rumble that echoed the tranquillity of the moment. You couldn't help but return the smile, fingers tracing absent patterns on his chest.

"Morning," you whispered back, savouring the quiet intimacy of the dawn. The world outside seemed distant, irrelevant compared to the cocoon you'd created in that bed. Luke's fingertips danced lightly along your back, sending shivers down your spine.

Neither of you rushed to break the spell. Instead, you let the morning unfold in a slow ballad of shared glances and gentle touches. The room held a hushed reverence as if it knew that something sacred had transpired under its roof. You smiled and stole a glance at the clock again, realizing that the world beyond the four walls of the room was stirring awake. The hushed whispers of the morning and its distant sounds seeped in, reminding you that life, with all its complexities, awaited just outside the window.

Eventually, the need for words emerged. Luke's fingers found their way into your hair, his touch a silent reassurance. "Last night…" he began, his gaze searching yours for understanding. You nodded, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken connection that had formed.

"Was incredible," you confessed, your voice a mere whisper. Luke's eyes sparkled, reflecting the mutual sentiment. There was a certain vulnerability in the air, a fragility that made the connection between you two feel both precious and precarious.

"But how are you feeling?" Luke asked as he leaned in pressing a lingering kiss beside your temple. You felt electrified at the action, a surge of emotions flooded through you—gratitude, contentment, and a twinge of excitement for what lay ahead.

"Luke, I'm fine…" you grinned, your eyebrows scrunched as you looked up at him. "More than fine…in need of a shower, but other than that, great." He let out a light laugh, his arm tightening around your shoulder as you made no attempt to move.

The weight of the morning sun intensified, casting a spotlight on the vulnerability of your exposed selves. The soft glow highlighted the curves and edges, all of the imperfections that made your shared space even more beautiful. You marvelled at how the sunlight painted Luke's features, turning him into a masterpiece of warmth and affection.

As the day beckoned, you realized the outside world would soon encroach upon your found haven. Responsibilities, obligations, and the relentless march of time would demand attention. But for now, in the soft embrace of the morning, you were suspended in a delicate equilibrium.

Luke pressed another tender kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of continuity in a world that thrived on change. You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation of his lips against your skin. The world outside faded away, leaving only the rhythmic beating of your heart and the shared breaths that anchored you to the present.

And then it was over.

The morning bliss passed by far too quickly for your liking and before you knew it, you were dressed in Luke's clothes and heading back towards your house. Luke stayed at your side, his arm around your shoulders as he escorted you across the road. You relished his lingering touches and his softened eyes as the two of you approached the empty house.

"So…" you spoke, standing in the open doorway, looking up towards the boy. Your hands fiddled beneath the cuffs of his oversized jumper that you adorned.

"I like you, y/n," he blurted out as he scratched his head nervously. "I like you a lot, and if you don't feel the same, that's fine. But I'd like to know–"

You stepped out of your house and pulled Luke down with a small smile. Without another word, you crashed his lips to yours, his hands clasping your waist as the two of you moulded together. His hands locked around your waist, holding you as close as possible, your hands twirling around his curls– the curls you loved.

And as you reluctantly parted from him, a trail of electricity lingered, your fingers lifting to your lips giddily. His head remained bowed down towards you, his brown eyes, the eyes you cherished, scanning yours with a lazy smile.

"I like you too,"

- The two of you were keeping your blooming relationship on the lowkey. It wasn't that you were ashamed of it, or that you two weren't ready for that step but because you didn't think you could face the reactions of your families.

The Hughes would be delighted, of course. Ellen always teased that the two of you would end up together. The only people who wouldn't be as delighted would be your parents. Hell, you weren't sure if they'd be mad because you had a boyfriend or because their own love was falling apart.

And so, you and Luke had kept it between the two of you…at least around your respective families.

And it honestly hadn't been too difficult to do so.

You two continued to act as you had when you were only friends… just with a few more lingering touches and devouring kisses. You were certain a few of your friends had picked up on the difference but if they had, they didn't say anything and you were determined to stay in that state.

And a week later, you and Luke were in his mom's car again. Ellen and Jim had flown up to Vancouver to visit Quinn and watch him play, leaving Luke with an empty house, one in which you had been staying over in almost every night, tucked into the comfort of his arms.

Luke's hand was placed on your thigh as he drove, his thumb smoothing figures of eight over the expanse. You hummed along to the song echoing over the radio, your fingers scrolling through messages upon messages from your parents and friends. Luke squeezed your leg slightly as the car pulled up towards a remote house, currently filled to the brim with high school seniors.

It was one of the final parties of the year, a farewell hurrah for your last year of high school.

"You okay, pretty girl?" Luke asked, his head tilted towards you as he smoothed his hand up and down your thigh.

"Mhm…" you hummed with a smile across your face. "Just thinking."

"That's never good," Luke joked, causing you to lean forward and hit his chest in false rage.

"Yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes playfully, unbuckling your seat belt but as you went to grab the door, Luke hissed in offence and practically sprinted around the car to pull open your door for you. You snickered as you jumped out of the car. Luke slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest as the two of you walked towards the party.

The music filtered out into the night air as Luke and you walked straight into the house, instantly becoming engulfed by the smell of alcohol and sweat as people bristled around the home. Your hand laced with Luke's as the two of you manoeuvred through the crowd. The two of you spilt into the kitchen, with Luke grabbing you a drink and passing it back to you. He had agreed to drive the two of you home, meaning you were able to have a few drinks.

For the majority of the night, the two of them had remained in each other's grasp as you talked to friends and danced to the outrageously loud music. You'd been ripping away the drinks, a soft buzz filling your veins just enough to heighten your giddiness without distorting your reality.

Many people shot you and Luke questioning looks when he held you close to his chest or when he pressed lingering kisses along your neck and cheek. The two of you were wrapped up in your own little bubble, enjoying the last bit of freedom before the end-of-year exams.

"Gotta go to the bathroom," you yelled over the music as you broke away from Luke's hold.

"Want me to come with you?" He replied, his fingers traipsing down your arms.

"I'm alright," you grinned, kissing his neck gently before walking towards where you believed the bathroom was. You passed through the kitchen before you felt yourself being pulled back.

You turned around only to turn ashen as Brock's tight grip on your wrist pulled you closer to his body. You stiffened immediately, his face hovering just in front of yours as you tried to carefully pull away.

"Let go, Brock," you ordered as calmly as possible. His narrowed eyes scanned your face, his grip unwavering.

"You're screwing Hughes?!" He spat, the faint waft of beer on his breath flooded your senses. "You wouldn't let me fuck you but you're screwing him?"

"We're broken up…you cheated on me," your voice was trembling but your straight face remained as such. "Let me go."

"Bet you were screwing him when we were together too," he sneered, yanking you again. He was so close now that his nose brushed yours as you tried to pull away. "Bet you screwed everyone but me, but I'm not complaining…you have all kinds of diseases, don't you?"

You jerked away from Brock with teary eyes, your bruising wrist now free of his grip. Your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't even begin to say anything before you ran towards the bathroom, cutting past the complaining queue and locking the door.

Tears fell freely as your shaky hands rushed to brush away your tears. You couldn't focus on anything else at the moment, bar your growing want to be in Luke's arms and within the comfort of his gaze. You took a few shaky breaths in before you rushed out of the bathroom, ignoring the dirty looks and comments people in the queue threw at you.

As you navigated your way towards the living room, you kept your head down, your tear-stained cheeks flushed as you pushed passed people so determined to make it to Luke. You knew he'd soothe you, he'd hold you close and patch up your cracked soul.

"Y/N!" A girl, you recognised to be Julia, who was in your homeroom popped in front of your vision blocking your view of the living room. You stumbled back and met her panicked gaze as a fake smile plastered across her face. You knew it was fake, hell you were practically the queen of fake smiles.

"Oh…hi," you mustered, "if you'll excuse me…" As you tried to move around her, only to find your way blocked again.

"You really don't want to go in there," she almost begged. You could hear the pity in her voice, as her hands tried to prevent you from entering the room. You pushed her away in confusion, as she winced and moved from the entry of the living room.

"What the hell is your problem-"

Your words died in your throat as your eyes landed on the scene ahead of you.

Luke Hughes, your best friend, your safe haven, the boy you liked(...loved!), was tongue-deep in another girl's throat as people whistled and watched them around the living room.

His hands were on her cheeks as they often were on yours. His eyes shut as the girl careened at his touch. You felt your heart promptly drop to your stomach as you remained frozen in your place, your body vibrating in hurt.

He didn't even look up once.

It all crumbled down as you felt your stomach churn and you couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the betrayal. You clutched a hand to your throat as you burst through the crowd stumbling out of the house, dry-retching as you made it outside. Julia followed you outside, her hand caressing your back as you heaved.

Sobs tore through your body at the chaos that the night had unfolded. It was as if none of it was real. His words, his loving touches, his kisses, his embrace all of it was fake!

You'd trusted him and it was like the version of him you knew didn't exist!

You cried as Julia murmured to you, her hand running over your hair as she sat you down on the curbside outside of the house. You welcomed her comfort and despite not knowing her all that well, you found yourself spilling every last thought to her.

You sobbed as you confessed your love for him, how he was your first, how he said he liked you, how you'd grown up with him, how this would kill the only solace you had in life. And she listened. She listened and held you, as the party continued inside.

It was over— your perfect, dream of a romcom-esque love had come to an end, and you never even saw it coming.

#wineauntie #luke hughes x reader #hughes brothers x y/n #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes #x reader #nhl x reader #nhl

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bunni-v1 · 8 months

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Can I please request a reader that has been so traumatised by what’s happened in the Scarabia book that they actively avoid the entire dorm and have Ace and Deuce as their guard dogs (I love those two and I really love how you wrote them as the readers protective besties during the Malleus break up fic). Like how would Kalim, Jamil and Adeuce react to that?

I find it really cathartic when I read fics that have the characters feeling guilty after what they put the reader through whilst the reader is getting support from their friends.

(Something I’m really salty about in twst is how no one ever holds the overblots accountable for what they’ve done. I full on agreed with Ace when he told Riddle that crying wasn’t going to erase all that he did before the overblot and I literally fell in love with him when he punched Riddle after he insulted us/Yuu/the player. I understand that those boys are traumatised and are in desperate need of therapy and overblotting was the only way for their problems to be solved but the treatment they inflicted on Yuu/us was downright hellish. Azul made us homeless and tore us away from the only family/comfort we had in twst (the ghosts) and then sent the tweels to terrorise us in our attempts to reclaim said home and free our friends from servitude; Jamil kidnapped us, hypnotised us, locked us up in a room against our will, isolated us from Adeuce and took away any contact we had with them, forced us on long marches in the dessert and turned a blind eye to our clear suffering during that time; Vil acted like a literal demon to not only us (and then almost made my Deucey cry) but everyone else as well and that was before he decided to try to murder an innocent teenager. Like why does no one understand just how much this can damage an actual child who has no magic and has been stripped from their home and family?)

Reader Terrified of Scarabia After Jamil’s Overblot

TW: PTSD; Mental Breakdown; Disassociation; Mentions of Abuse; Kalim and Jamil are tragic

Info: Ace, Deuce x Reader (platonic or romantic); Kalim, Grim x Reader (platonic); Jamil and Reader (neutral)

🍓I love requests like this tbh. My own OC sorta has her own grapplings with this stuff that I like to touch upon, and I’m excited I get the chance to talk about it here :) THIS IS LONG AS HELL BTW(like this intro here lol). I had a lot of fun writing it :))) I added a cute, shorter little grim part, because our little guy deserves more lovin’ than he gets. I also decided to do a cute little (read: long) intro, and then head cannons since you didn’t specify for either. I hope you enjoy this style, and I’m sorry for the wait <3

You had been through… a lot in your time at Night Raven College. Being thrown into a completely different world would’ve been enough, but it seems that the great seven thought you needed some extra troubles. You weren’t sure how you could’ve encored their wrath, but you were, and you were chugging along despite it all.

First was the attack from the phantom in the mines — something that should’ve been foreshadowing for what was to come. You didn’t even do anything to be in this position. It was Ace Grim and Deuce, but you got dragged into it all because you were “Grim’s keeper.” You managed to befriend Ace and Deuce though, so it wasn’t so bad.

Second was Riddle with his unending temper and strict rules. Despite everything telling you to just stay out of it, your good-natured heart just couldn’t stop you from helping Ace and Deuce. Nearly dying in the process, you managed to help Riddle and made newfound friends in Heartslabyul.

Third came Leona, the selfish, stuck-up, lazy no-good prince of the Savannah. You knew he was trouble from the start, and you wanted nothing to do with him or his little lackey Ruggie. Then he hurt Trey, and you couldn’t stand by while he reigned terror on the school. He was a favorable ally to gain in the end, so you could dismiss his actions so long as he kept in his lane.

Fourth was Azul, another student you figured would cause you trouble. With the extra scary Jade and Floyd always tailing him, and that too buttery sweet voice of his, you were determined to keep your distance. Again, however, your friends were in trouble and you couldn’t help but help them. Azul was a broken person, and you could sympathize with his struggles. He even gave you a job at the lounge to help with funding yourself, so he couldn’t be all that bad.

You’d come to dislike the other house wardens out of principle. A pattern had emerged among them, and you weren’t going to fall victim to another horrific overblot. You still had suction cup-shaped bruises on your arm from Azul’s breakdown. Leona had given you more than just a nasty burn from the scalding hot whirlwind of sand he conjured up. The scars Riddle left behind on your face and arms were healed, but they still ached when you touched them. All painful reminders that you could not truly trust anyone here, that anyone could lose control of themselves and hurt you. Yet…

When you met Jamil in the kitchen, he seemed so kind to both you and Grim. He seemed so genuine and honest. Maybe it was wishful thinking, or maybe it was you missing your friends, but you wanted to trust him despite your gut feeling to be distrustful. Could everyone here really be that bad? Certainly not. Ace Deuce and Jack went here as well… so surely… surely…

The alarm bells didn’t ring at all during the dinner, and Kalim — despite everything you’ve been through — seemed so nice, if not a little overbearing. You could see the tiredness on Jamil's face, and you had the kindness in your heart to express your sympathies. And oh, Jamil so humbly assured you that he was fine. Filling your head with little half-truths and ideas that Kalim had been overworking not only him but the other students. That he had been acting “off” as of late.

You saw Kalim’s sudden shifts in personality. How he would be so sweet, so kind and soft. How he made sure you were enjoying yourself, made sure you ate to your heart's content, made sure you were comfortable in your uniform and your sleeping quarters. Then he would be yelling at everyone, demanding unspeakable exercises and work.

If Ace were there with you, he would’ve called bullshit. Still, you trusted Jamil to start. You actually believed he was kind and had good intentions. You believed that Kalim was the real evil here.

Then he wouldn’t let you and Grim leave, and the students were suddenly so aggressive toward you. He took everything you had and stripped you of your dignity and pride until there was nothing left but fight.

Truly, you didn’t realize it was him that was the issue until he was over-blotting in front of your eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight to you at that point, you’d defeated multiple overblots and befriended these people. You don’t know what it was. The way you’d trusted him. The fact that you felt truly alone without Ace and Deuce. This one broke you…

You just didn’t feel a damn thing after he was saved. You felt no pity, no joy, no relief. Absolutely nothing, an empty void in your chest. Even as everyone around you celebrated, there was nothing. You stood watching everyone parade around with glee blankly, unable to speak to anyone around you. Just listening to the voices that had begun to mesh together.

You didn’t show anything until Ace and Deuce showed up. Something about their faces, the way they were looking over you, the way they seemed so scared for your wellbeing… it made you cry. It made you cry and cry and cry until you couldn’t make any noise and then you cried some more. They had to drag you away from everyone because you just couldn’t quite stand upright when Deuce would try to get you to walk away with him…

The days after were blurry. You remained holed up in your dorm, unable to really move from your bed. Ace and Deuce stayed in their own separate room next to yours. You could hear them talking through the walls about how worried they were about you, how angry they were at Jamil, how angry they were at themselves for not getting there in time to help you. If you’d had the energy, you would’ve scolded them for being so hard on themselves, but you could hardly speak in the first place.

They cared for you as best as they could. Deuce attempted to cook the recipes Trey sent him over magicam, making sure you ate and stayed hydrated. Occasionally you’d hear Azul downstairs, and Deuce would give you something nice from the Monstrolounge — free of charge, he promised. You could tell that he wasn’t sleeping much in his worry over you.

Grim remained at your side as loyal as a dog and boasting that he’d keep you safe, but you knew he was scared too. He proclaimed that he would keep you safe, but you could feel him trembling at every sudden noise. You had to comfort him from the horrific nightmares he was having. That was okay, though, he was family and you were his.

Ace was the only one who really kicked your ass into gear. He’d tug you out of bed and into the shower as people began to return from winter break. Made you go on walks around campus to show you that you were completely safe. Eventually, he’d been able to get you to visit Azul to thank him directly for his kindness. He wasn’t soft or gentle with you, that wasn’t in his character at all, but he made sure you felt safe enough to return to classes before they started.

They both worked hard to help you recover, but you were still so afraid…

Ace

-Ace isn’t exactly the most comforting person, and he never claimed to be.

-He’s not good at reassuring people, but he’s good at being honest, and if he was being honest he knew that you were safe around him and Deuce.

-He walks you to and from classes, spends most of his nights in your dorm doing whatever the hell you’d like him to do without complaint, distracts you when you’re freaking out, and most importantly keeps that snake as far away from you as possible.

-If he was being honest with himself, which was his whole thing, he didn’t really get your reaction to everything.

-You’ve all been through this before, it's textbook at this point. A guy does some shady shit, a guy gets caught doing said shady shit, a guy overblots, and you defeat a guy with the power of friendship. Boom. Done.

-He’d get it more if you were completely alone, but grim and the octanivelle freaks were there! Kalim too, and he’s always seemed pretty nice. Not the best company, sure, but still you had people helping you out.

-When he looks at your face and sees how tired you are, he forgets the logical stuff. All he can hear are those horrific sobs you let out when you saw him and how you nearly ripped his uniform in half with how tightly you were holding him and Deuce.

-If that was too much for him, he can’t imagine how badly it must’ve felt for you. How bad it must still feel.

-So screw what he thinks, he’s gotta make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

-He doesn’t ask you how you’re feeling, he knows it's not good. He focuses on keeping your mind off of everything that might trigger you.

-Reroutes your paths to classes to avoid Jamil and Kalim completely. Sure it’s longer and more annoying, but it's better than you going dead silent and shutting him and everyone else out again.

-He does everything in his power and you’re doing so well… and then the VDC happens.

-You’re given the title of manager and you’re forced to be around these people who terrify you.

-Vil won’t budge on anything and sevens Ace wishes Rook would let him try out a little target practice with the (illegal) bow and arrows he’s got in his room.

-He keeps himself between you and Jamil at all costs. He won’t let Jamil bother you at all, not that he was trying in the first place.

-The real issue is Kalim, which sounds crazy, but it’s true.

-Kalim is so… forceful. A pretty strong word, but honestly the only one Ace can think to use.

-He’s really nice, really sweet, seriously such a good guy… but you’re still unsettled by him.

-There are several times during practices that Ace has to yell at him to just leave you alone.

-Sure, it gets him a pretty big scolding from Vil, but he couldn’t care less honestly. He doesn’t wanna risk you having a panic attack because Vil doesn’t wanna be a responsible leader.

-You confide in Ace a lot. How you really want to move past all this, but Crowley won’t provide you with any form of therapy, and you’re just not ready to forgive Jamil or Kalim for what happened.

-He won’t tell you this, but hearing you talk like this breaks his heart.

-You’re normally so strong, so brave, so confident… and now you’re absolutely broken.

-He’s proud of you for putting on a brave face to placate Vil, but he’s angry you have to.

-Surprisingly, though, you do begin to warm up to Kalim. Just a little.

-It's only when Ace, Deuce, or Grim is around, but it's a really big step forward in his eyes.

-You’re getting back to where you used to be little by little.

-He still won’t give you or Jamil the chance to reconcile, but you honestly couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Deuce

-Deuce is incredibly different from Ace in how he handles everything.

-He’s a delinquent, sure, but he’s a Mama’s boy at heart. Therefore, he’s much more equipped to help you emotionally through all this than Ace.

-Where Ace is the harsh pushing force to keep you going, Deuce is the calm where you can rest and cry your heart out for as long as you need.

-As I mentioned, he makes sure you’re eating and drinking and at least speaking to someone.

-He asks Trey for recipes without leading on to what’s going on and asks Cater for advice on helping someone feel safe after a traumatic experience.

-It’s not subtle, but it helps.

-He handles making all your meals, even though he isn’t the best cook, he absolutely puts all his heart and soul into everything he makes.

-A good portion of his days are dedicated to cooking for you, and he gets pretty damn good at it by the time classes start up again!

-With Sam’s shop closed, he has to go into town to get the ingredients he needs, and then he has to spend hours preparing and serving the food.

-He watches you eat, encouraging you that everything is safe and that he made it all by himself by hand.

-He doesn’t question why things ended up this way for you, he wonders how can I help?

-And he does help, a lot, more than just with food.

-Sometimes, late at night, he hears you crying alone in your room. He gets up from his own bed, quietly enters your room, and holds you and grim while you both tremble in fear.

-It makes him so mad. Mad that this happened to you. Mad that Jamil did this in the first place. Mad that he couldn’t help more than he already is.

-Like Ace, he accompanies you to all your classes and makes sure to stay close to your side if any Scarabia students are around.

-He’ll go anywhere you need him to, and if you’re not comfortable being alone and he’s got plans, you’re invited to join him. No matter what anyone else thinks.

-Things get better little by little. You make strides in your ability to be independent again and you’re smiling and joking around like you used to. You even agreed to try out for the VDC with him and Ace… a big mistake.

-He didn’t expect to actually get in, let alone get in with Jamil and Kalim. If it were just that he could’ve been civil, but no, you had to be dragged in too… because that’s always how it works out.

-He has to hold himself from getting in Jamil’s face more than once because just him looking at you is enough to send you into a clear panic attack.

-Deuce does his best to comfort you between all of this, though. Being your shoulder to cry on and trying his best to be your protector… it's just hard. Hard to see you like that, and hard to keep his cool for your sake.

-It's worse with Kalim because both you and Deuce know he means well. You both know he wants to reconcile, but you’re not quite ready.

-Deuce helps the confrontation with the two feel a bit easier though. He acts as a mediator between you and Kalim, and eventually, he’s proud to say he helped you trust Kalim just a little bit.

-Jamil… both of you could use some work, but Deuce is more willing to hear you out on him than Ace is.

Grim

-Grim was there with you the whole time. He understands the fear you’re feeling deeper than anyone else.

-He could just tell something was wrong the second he saw your face. Despite all the celebrations, he was focused on making sure you were at least a little okay.

-He tried to talk to you, tried to make you feel okay, but the only comfort he could offer you was letting you hold him while you cried.

-He could still hear your cries, and they made him want to cry too. He almost did, but he was your guard cat — he had to be strong for you.

-Unlike Ace and Deuce, he never left your side. Not a second. He was there with you from the moment you were unwittingly kidnapped to the sleepless nights in your dorm to the horror of finding out you’d have to work closely with Jamil for the VDC.

-He made his distaste for him very known, sure to make a snarky comment at least once every time he saw him.

-It was so bad, at one point, that Vil had to give him a stern talking to. He didn’t stop regardless.

-You are Grim’s best friend, the only family he has, and Jamil hurt you in unspeakable ways. He couldn’t just sit back and be okay with that.

-He’s really such a good guy.

Kalim

-Kalim means well. With his whole heart, he has the best intentions… just not the best execution.

-See, he didn’t notice initially that anything was really wrong the whole time.

-He didn’t suspect Jamil at all. In fact, he thought that you were really enjoying your stay in Scarabia, you seemed so happy and chatty up until Jamil flipped things on their head.

-Call him air-headed, but he was caught up in his own whirlwind of emotions at the time. You know, the whole betrayal of his supposed best friend took a toll on him too.

-It wasn’t until you were sobbing your throat raw that he realized something was really wrong.

-The look of sheer terror on your face when you made eye contact with him sent shivers up his spine.

-He knew that look. He’d worn that look on his own face too many times as a young child.

-Believe it or not, without Jamil’s intervention, he knew to keep his distance. He knew he had to give you time to adjust.

-Then a few days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a little over a month, and he had hardly seen you around campus.

-You are avoiding your normal route to class, and when he did see you he was also greeted by the harsh glares of your good friends.

-He understood if you’d never want to talk to him ever again, honestly. He couldn’t blame you. You were more headstrong than him, after all.

-Still, when the VDC came around… he was hopeful. Truly he was hoping that something would give.

-He would talk to you in hopes of showing you that he meant no harm, but Ace or Deuce or even Grim would shove their way between the two of you.

-Several times Jamil had to tell him to knock it off because “It’s not worth forcing.”

-Still, he wanted you to know he felt bad. He felt horrible.

-In a very un-Kalim-like move, he quietly asks you if you can speak with him. Alone. But in a crowded enough area that you wouldn’t feel threatened.

-He didn’t expect you to accept it, he wouldn’t have blamed you at all. But you said yes.

-You showed up, with Grim by your side, which was fine. He earned some apologies too.

-He poured his heart out to you, apologizing for things that he couldn’t even control. In turn, he listened to you rant about how scared you were, how angry you were, how you wished you were any of these things.

-And after that, things improved. Slowly, but surely. You became more comfortable around him, and you spoke to him again.

-Sure, you wouldn’t be caught dead at one of Scarabia’s parties, but you considered him a friend.

-That’s all he could ask for.

Jamil

-Jamil is the monster in your story.

-He’s the evil guy who kidnapped, manipulated and lied to you.

-He’s the one who used his misplaced anger as an excuse to hurt others.

-He’s the boogyman who made you endure days of long and hard training, just because he could.

-Of course, he felt bad. What he did was unspeakable, but he was more concerned with how his reputation would last after the overblot.

-More concerned with it not getting out for the safety of his family.

-Even with you sobbing, he just thought you were being dramatic in all honesty. You have a reputation already, he knew you’d been through this whole thing before.

-It didn’t really strike him how badly it affected you.

-He didn’t notice how you switched paths, how you were never in the same area as him for long, and the glares of your friends never once phased him.

-Even Ace’s snarky comments during basketball didn’t bother him for a second.

It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway, and he saw the look on your face that he realized.

-The terror in your eyes, the way you shrunk back as if he would strike you. It was the same way his parents acted around the Asim’s.

-If he were a more insane man, he might’ve found it liberating, but it wasn’t.

-He had become what he hated to you, he had done what he hated to you.

-Jamil was not only your monster, but he was his own.

-He steers clear of you and keeps as much distance as possible for both your sakes.

-He couldn’t handle someone looking at him like that, and he was sure you couldn’t handle the sight of him after what he did.

-Still, this is NRC, and luck is never on anyone's side here.

-Both of you are forced into a position where you cannot escape the other, you have to learn to live with the awful pits in your stomachs.

-He keeps Kalim away until you both are on good terms, then he simply watches quietly.

-He won’t apologize, he won’t antagonize, he won’t speak unless spoken to.

-You two never truly recover your small lasting friendship, but you do make amends with each other.

-During the trip to the scalding sands, you get to meet Najma, whom he’s confided in about ‘accidentally upsetting a classmate’.

-You get to have a good talk with her, and it makes you really realize some things about Jamil.

-You realize he’s just as broken as you, just as tired as you, and that he feels the most immense amount of guilt for hurting you.

-You, being you, find it in your soul to forgive him.

-Nothing really changes between you. The guilt is still there, and the fear still shakes you to your core, but you both have closure.

-In a situation like this, closure is the best grace a person can ever have.

#twst #twisted wonderland #bunni's treats 🧁#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #jamil viper #kalim al asim #ace trappola #deuce spade #grim twst #deuce spade x reader #ace trapolla x reader #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader

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