#will i ever move on from this universe?? that's yet to be determined it seems

[echo-rambles]

me: I'm so glad that I'm done with my ice skater/hockey player au! 4 parts in the series is definitely enough!

my brain, at 2:30am: ......seungin fwb oneshot set in the same au. imagine.

me: no we're NOT doing this......

fuck

[froggiewrites]

Wanting

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You have never wanted anyone more than you want Sanji. You don't want to admit it, but as you end up alone together on a new island, the universe seems determined to make you. Warnings: Smut, There Was Only One Bed, Possessiveness (a bit from both Sanji and Reader), Reader really matching Sanji's energy on the horniness here Word Count: 5.6k Crossposted from Ao3

You had never wanted anyone more than you had wanted Sanji.

You hated to admit that tragic, embarrassing fact, but it was true all the same. You wanted him. You had always known you’d liked Sanji, from the moment you met and he threw himself at your feet, knew you found him endearing and silly, but wanting him? That was different. Wanting was real. Wanting was demanding. Wanting had you pacing the deck after yet another dirty dream about your silly little cook, trying to calm down enough to be able to face him at breakfast.

Your bare feet hit the grass of the Sunny’s deck as you pray that this will pass, that you’ll be able to see your dear friend without yearning for him so deeply it threatens to rip a hole in your chest, but every time you close your eyes you can still feel his lips against yours and see his face twisted in pleasure. You huff with frustration, throwing yourself down to lay on your back and stare at the sky. Maybe the morning sun will burn out your retinas and you won’t have to worry about seeing his face at all anymore.

“You alright down there?” His voice is still raspy from sleep, and your eyes shoot open as you use all the willpower you have not to rub your thighs together.

“Sanji!” Your voice is an octave higher than you would have liked to admit. “Hi! Good morning! Um, yeah. I’m uh–I’m fine. Peachy.”

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about his hands reaching down to grab you. Don’t think about how his dick would feel in your mouth.

Fuck. Damnit.

“Are you sure? You’re a little red.” You finally look up to see his face, his hair a little mussed and his eyes softened with concern. You want to kiss him. God, you want to kiss him.

“I’m okay, I’m just, uh. A little hot. That’s all.” You focus anywhere but his eyes, those beautiful kind eyes, because you know if you focus on his eyes you’ll do something you’ll regret. Or maybe you wouldn’t regret it at all, because you’d finally know what his lips feel like.

No. Not now. Not ever. You are not all hot and bothered over Sanji. Not your dear friend Sanji, who is looking at you with so much care it makes you physically ache.

“Do you want to come inside? I can make you something to cool you down.”

You picture being alone together in the kitchen, his practiced hands and talented fingers moving with such purpose as he slices and dices, just to make something to please you. You picture those fingers moving with a different purpose, working for a different pleasure. If you go in that kitchen you fear you’ll do something you can’t take back. “I’m alright! I just need to lay here.” Your voice definitely just audibly cracked.

His face falls a little at the idea that you won’t come with him. You try not to let your heart flutter at the idea he wants you around. That he wants you alone with him. “Alright, well come on in if you change your mind, okay? I’ll do–make. I’ll make anything you want.”

What was that?

Your imagination, surely.

“Of course, Sanji. I’ll let you know if I need you–anything.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

You stare at each other for a moment before he turns and walks into the kitchen without even a goodbye, and if you didn’t know better you would think the tips of his ears were red. Surely not, though.

You cover your face and groan, rolling onto your front to block out the world. You hear sets of footsteps pass as your other crewmates wake up and decide to leave you to your misery instead of asking. A small mercy, but one you’re grateful for.

Once you finally manage to drag yourself off of the ground, your thoughts filled with simple, unsexy things like cold showers and paint drying, you make your way to the kitchen for breakfast. You come in only on the tail end of the meal and conversation, hearing Nami’s voice dictating how things are going to go on the next island.

“—need to make sure we aren’t separated. There’s an island-wide curfew, and we need to make sure that none of us break it. We don’t want to risk drawing attention to ourselves.” You can’t see her face but you are familiar with the scathing side-eye she’s almost certainly giving Zoro and Luffy right now.

“Why are you looking at me?” Zoro’s voice is defensive in the way it only gets when he knows whatever he’s being accused of is inarguably true.

Nami sighs. “It’s too early for this. Anyway, we’re going to pair up to make sure no one gets stranded alone on the island just in case we miss curfew. I wrote all of our names on pieces of paper, and I’m going to draw–”

“Why do you get to draw?”

“Yeah I wanna draw! I’m the captain!”

“It doesn’t matter who–”

You tune them out for your sanity as you retrieve your plate from Sanji’s outstretched hands. He gives you a soft, sincere smile that cuts to your core. He looks so wonderful like that, when he isn’t trying to woo you and he’s just being…Sanji.

“I kept it warm for you.” He leans closer so you can hear him over the din of voices behind you. Your eyes are level with his chest, his shirt unbuttoned halfway so you can see his entire torso. You need to look away. You need to stop ogling.

You don’t.

“Thank you,” you murmur distractedly. You don’t know if you’re thanking him for the breakfast or for the clear view of his happy trail.

His chest gets closer, and you feel his warm breath against your ear. “Of course. Anything for you.” He’s so close. You could so easily put your lips against his neck. You could bite him right now, make him make such wonderful noises right here in front of everyone.

“Hey, are you two even listening?” Nami’s annoyed voice rings out from the table behind you.

You both stand at attention like navy soldiers the moment she calls for you. Her tone means business. That silly argument earlier seems like it soured her mood for the entire day.

“Of course, Nami!” Your tone rings false, and she gives you a dour look that you shrink under.

“Ugh. Whatever. Important bits: we’re staying paired up on this island. Be back before dark. Don’t draw attention to yourselves. Got it?”

“Yes, Nami!” You both chorus.

“Great. I’ll start pulling names.”

Your captain pouts. “But I–”

“I’m pulling names.”

“Awww.”

The pairs came quickly: Brook and Usopp, Franky and Robin, Luffy and Chopper, and Nami and Zoro (to Sanji’s audible displeasure). You laugh along with everyone else for just a moment at Sanji’s fit before you realize what it means.

“God, if it pisses you off that much then just switch partners with me!” Zoro’s voice is filled with annoyance, his eye turning to you.

Sanji pauses for a moment, his eyes finding yours, and you can see pure and utter euphoria hit him when he realizes. The fury at Zoro’s suggestion hits a moment after. “No way in hell, mosshead!”

The bickering continues, as it always does, and you try to calm your thoughts once again. A day alone with him. A date, perhaps. You imagine at first walking hand in hand while shopping, stopping in a cafe to enjoy together, and other simple domestic things that make a small lovesick smile make its way onto your face.

And then you remember your dream, hear his lovely voice cry out in a broken whine, and your silly daydreams turn to dark alleys and frantic, fumbling hands taking what they need before you’re caught. You imagine getting to run your hands down his torso, following the teasing trail of hair you saw earlier down, wrapping your hands around him and making him whimper.

You stop your thoughts because you are in front of an audience and are going to lose your sanity if you allow yourself another moment of this.

Sanji and Zoro have stopped fighting, and the crew is pairing off as everyone decides their tasks for today. Zoro has been designated Nami’s shopping bag holder, and his protests fall on deaf ears as the conversations continue without him. You and Sanji will be grocery shopping, of course. He has the list ready to go, which means all you need to do is keep him company and try not to get jealous when he inevitably hits on a stranger. You can do that, grit your teeth and give tight-lipped smiles that hopefully hide the taste of iron on your tongue. Maybe if you’re lucky she’ll reject him, refuse to give him the time of day, and he’ll turn to you as he licks his wounds. He’ll find comfort in you, and you’ll gladly give it. You can ease the sting of rejection as he eases the yearning ache in your chest.

As the crew moves to leave the kitchen, Zoro begins to lean over to you, presumably to make some gruff joke about how miserable your day will be with Sanji, wearing a smug grin hiding the boyish amusement he gets from teasing the man he would never admit is his friend. Before you can hear it, give him a soft laugh and a roll of the eyes, your vision is filled with the soft blue of a slightly unbuttoned shirt and there’s a large, gentle hand on the small of your back.

“I said hands off, mosshead.” Sanji’s voice holds more hostility than you’d expect. Most days even their worst of fights have an air of levity to them that they would never admit, but this has real anger behind it, venom spitting from his lips in a way you had never heard. The hand on your back presses firmly, commandingly, in a way that makes your knees weak. “Let’s go, angel.” His voice softens, then, not filled with the candied sweetness he saves for his usual flirtations, but the type of tender sincerity and affection saved only for a small inner circle you are forever grateful to be a part of.

“What, I can’t talk to her? Possessive pervert.” There’s less anger behind Zoro’s words and more confusion, but you can hardly hear it as the door slams firmly shut behind you. Sanji’s breathing is labored with anger, his shoulders drawn tight, but you hardly notice over the feeling of his fingertips on your back, brushing just above your ass, so close to moving lower. His hand moves to your hip instead, grabbing firmly, not enough to bruise but enough that you couldn’t leave if you wanted to.

“Sanji? Are you alright?” Your voice is hesitant as you try to keep the lust out of it, but he seems to take it as discomfort. His eyes widen, his hand immediately leaving you, and you can’t help but let out a soft whimper at the loss. He, of course, takes this as pain.

“Oh god, darling did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, I–”

“You didn’t hurt me, Sanji, I’m fine. I was just worried about you.” You give him a reassuring smile, teeth only slightly clenched from concentrating on anything other than how strong he felt, on how good it felt to be held, on the feeling that his fingerprints have been burned onto your skin even though the fabric of your shirt.

His face is troubled, his eyes watery from even the idea of hurting you, but he relaxes when you take his hand in yours, gently rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “I’m fine. I just can’t stand the idea of you running off with mosshead and him getting you lost. He’d probably leave you alone in the woods somewhere.” The words ring falsely in your ears. He hates to admit it, but he trusts Zoro to protect you, no matter the situation. The safety of the crew is one of the few things they’ll always agree on. He does not and would never think Zoro would leave you for dead.

“He wouldn’t do that.”

Sanji goes quiet, unable to bring himself to disagree, to lie to your face a second time. What was he thinking? “Yeah, I…I know.” His voice is weak and strained, but before you can pry further he starts to walk ahead, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket, clearly shutting down the conversation. You stare longingly at his back for a moment, at his broad shoulders, before following in his footsteps.

Shopping is tense, at first, as he tries and fails to calm down, but you eventually find a rhythm. You both fall into each other, a brush of the hands here, a hand on the arm there, the pull so magnetic you cannot help but follow it. Eventually you find yourselves walking hip to hip, you holding his arm, pressing it to your chest incredibly deliberately as he tries and fails to pretend he doesn’t notice. He keeps sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye, and you revel in the attention, preening under his wanting gaze. Your thoughts are about nothing but him, nothing but his shining blue eyes lingering on your chest, nothing but the hard stops he keeps making so your tits press even harder into his bicep.

He’s looking at you. God, he’s looking at you, no one else. Your chest tightens at the idea it could always be like this, that he could be yours.

Neither of you notice how late it’s gotten until the sun is already more than halfway behind the horizon. You’re reluctant to break the tension as he pulls you closer when you walk past a group of rowdy drunks, but you remember Nami’s warnings and your blood runs a little cold.

“Um, Sanji? Do you know what time it is?”

He checks his watch with no sense of urgency, clearly not grasping the situation. “It’s almost nine, why?”

“Curfew is at nine thirty, isn’t it? And the ship is…” you think for a moment, “about an hour away?”

He stops in his tracks, causing your chest to press against him again. “Ah.”

A beat of silence.

“Nami’s going to kill us.”

“I think you’re right.”

“The marines will notice us if we’re out past curfew.”

“Right again, my dear.”

“We’re fucked.”

“Mhm.”

More silence, stretching further and further as reality sinks in.

“I…guess we should find somewhere to stay?” Your voice is a little meek.

“I guess so.” He tries to keep his tone even, but there’s something almost mischievous behind it, something you can’t place. The ends of his lips twitch into an almost smile before he stops it. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you pray it’s something perverted. Maybe today he’ll get brave and act on it and you’ll have an excuse to throw yourself at him, give into the feeling you’ve been fighting all day.

You both attempt to find an inn with two open rooms, but the first three are fully booked with drunks who have beaten you to it. The curfew inches ever closer, and you still have nowhere to stay. If you stay on the street and get caught by the marines, you know Nami will kick your ass for alerting them to your presence. She probably already will for how long you’re delaying your journey. You focus on Sanji’s arm resting around your shoulders to ground yourself and ignore the dread creeping in and settling in your bones.

You finally find an inn that will take you, but you immediately run into a problem. Or what you’ll pretend is a problem.

“Please tell me you have availability.” Sanji’s voice is tinged with desperation as the clock ticks down.

 The woman working the desk seems exhausted, having clearly dealt with much worse customers than yourself earlier. “Is a queen bed okay?”

“A queen bed, like singular?” You put on a good show of acting confused and a little upset, hiding your giddiness well.

“Oh, are you two not–” Her eyes are lingering on where you’re connected, your arms wrapped around his. “I’m sorry, I assumed–well. Um. We only have one room left, I assumed you would want to share it.”

“One room?” Sanji’s voice gets a little loud, and a stranger would mistake this for anger or upset, but you can hear excitement in his tone. He glances at you again, at your face, at your chest, at your legs, admiring you for just a moment, certainly imagining something that would make you flush. “Only one room?”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can do. We really only have one. If that doesn’t work–”

“It works.” You both speak quickly. You pretend you don’t see him visibly fist pump when he thinks you aren’t looking. He pretends he doesn’t see you excitedly rock on your feet, a visible twinkle in your eye. The woman hands you a set of keys, and you’re both off.

As you walk to the room, you talk around it, pretending you both aren’t absolutely thrilled by this turn of events. 

“I can’t believe they only have one room. I know it’s busy, but this place is massive. It’s hard to believe it’s fully booked.” You try to sound annoyed, but a giggle makes its way into your voice as you imagine being tucked into the single bed with Sanji’s arms around you.

“It’s ridiculous. And with only a queen bed? Not even two twins? Or a king? It’s the most inconvenient it possibly could be.” He can’t fight his smile when he says only a queen, as he imagines both of you having nowhere to run except into each other. He could cry at the idea of having an excuse to hold you close, to feel you pressed against him with your head resting on his chest. It’s so domestic he could pretend it was real.

You both perfectly match each other’s steps in this liar’s dance even when the door closes, even when there’s not a single person to call you on it but each other. You cannot admit that you want this, out of fear that it might shatter the feeling of giddy excitement surrounding you both. You cannot put to words what is happening, lest you make it real. Real has worries attached to it, questions of the future and what this all means and what it changes. If you stay quiet you stay in the dream, where instead the only thing you have to think about is the pounding of your heart and the comforting heat of another next to you.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he says, visibly upset by the idea. He has to offer you the choice, he is a gentleman, but his eyes are pleading for you to deny the idea and welcome him into your bed.

“Don’t be silly, Sanji. You don’t need to ruin your back, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You leave out the internal pleading for him to come closer as soon as humanly possible. He can’t know how you may be even more desperate for him than he is for you.

“You’re an angel, my dear.” His smile now is genuinely affectionate, filled with a fondness that makes your chest ache. He looks younger like this, unburdened. “Well, let’s not wait, hm? I bet you’re exhausted.” His hands reach for the buttons of his shirt, and you watch, enraptured, as he slowly undoes each of them, revealing more and more of his body to you. You’ve seen it before, due to his favor for open silly Hawaiian shirts, but you can’t help but swallow at the sight, eyes never daring to look away. He’s so beautiful. He’s so strong.

You wonder if he could break you.

You wonder if you could break him.

He slips the shirt off easily, his hands moving down to his belt, the clink of the buckle sending a shiver down your spine and breaking you out of your trance. You can’t let him undress while you stay fully clothed. It’s rude. You let your hands slide down to the hem of your shirt, swiftly removing it, and he stops in the middle of unbuttoning his pants to stare, jaw slacked. You can see him grow hard at the sight of your chest as his eyes bore holes into you. His gaze is burning, his pupils blown out, his breathing growing heavy.

“Sanji?” You reluctantly call out to break the spell, not wanting your masquerade to end quite this soon.

“Yes? What is tit–it?” His eyes haven’t moved a centimeter, honed in on where your breasts spill over your bra.

“You’re staring.” You keep your tone teasing. His eyes finally trail up to your face, where he finds a twitching smile as you try to hold back your giggles. His expression shifts from lustful to lovestruck as his eyes soften and his smile widens.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, breathlessly.

“So are you.” His smile widens further as he finally looks away from you, suddenly bashful. His cheeks are flushed slightly pink, and you finally break and huff out a laugh. It isn’t seeing you half naked that gets him, or the idea of sharing a bed, or the lustful thoughts he’s certainly been having all day. It’s a simple compliment, not even a particularly good one, that flusters your dear cook. It makes you want to take his face in your hands and place kisses all over it, with a tenderness that would make its way under his skin, marking him as well and truly loved. It makes you want to drop to your knees and worship him, take him into your mouth and not stop until he’s utterly spent and crying from the overstimulation. It makes you want him, in every meaning of the word.

But you don’t want to break the illusion yet, still a little nervous about being the first to step over the line, so instead you slide your thumbs beneath the waistband of your jeans and quickly step out of them. You make your way to the bed, making a show of throwing yourself onto your back, bouncing a little as his eyes eagerly take in the movement of your breasts, your thighs, every inch of you. After allowing him a moment to admire, you shift to pull the blankets over yourself, tucking yourself in. You’re going to play your part. But you’re allowed a moment of fun. You look up at him, doe eyes blinking and arms outstretched welcomingly. “Sanji, aren’t you coming to bed?”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes turning to your face, and in that moment you swear you can see into his head. You see dreams of the two of you intertwined, not sexually, but just…together. You see his head resting against your chest, eyes closed in absolute bliss. You see the soft sunlight of the morning bathing you both in gold, warming you to your bones. You see a different scene, the two of you in a more intimate embrace, bodies pressing closer than you thought possible, hips moving and hands everywhere, a tender moment that almost feels like worship. You see an entire life together, every little moment, and you see Sanji’s eyes fill with tears at the idea of it.

He rips his pants off, practically diving into the bed with you, and his arms wrap around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He buries his face into your chest, nosing between your breasts, and somehow still keeping up this silly ruse, he mumbles, “This bed’s pretty small. Guess we’ll have to get even closer.” He pulls you tighter, and you’re almost sure he can’t breathe from how much he’s pressed his nose into your skin. You giggle, and you can feel him smile against you. He places a kiss right against your sternum, gentle and affectionate, before pressing one up slightly higher, then one higher than that, as he makes his way up to your neck. His facial hair rubs against your skin, the ticklish feeling making you laugh even more. He places one final kiss where your jaw meets your neck before pulling up to whisper in your ear. “Can I please kiss you? I think I’ll die if I don’t.”

“Please do,” you whine out. He doesn’t wait another moment before your lips crash together, teeth briefly clacking together in his excitement before it softens into something more tender and intimate. He groans softly into your mouth, lips parting, welcoming you in. You gladly accept, and he fully pins you beneath him and you explore each other’s mouths.

His hands slide underneath you, one pulling you upward into him as the other fumbles with the clasp of your bra. The moment it releases, he swiftly tosses it behind him, breaking your kiss to stare at your chest. His mouth is slightly agape as he pants, eyes wide, taking in the sight. He looks as though he wants to speak, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches out as he takes in every inch of your breasts, before he eventually reaches a shaking hand out to brush his fingers against your skin. He lets out a quiet breath of awe. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. A goddess. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“You took the words out of my mouth, Sanji. This is a dream come true.” Your voice is quiet with the vulnerable admission, and his eyes leave your chest to meet yours.

“You dreamed of this?” He sounds like he really truly can’t fathom the idea.

“Dozens of times. Almost every dream I have is about you. Last night I–” You stop yourself in embarrassment, face flushing.

He leans closer with an intensity he usually saves for battle. “Last night? You dreamed about me last night?” His eyes are boring into you, stripping you bare, staring straight into your heart and soul.

“Yes,” you softly admit. “I dreamed about you last night. About this. The real thing is so much better.”

“Oh god,” he breaths out, before he kisses you again, hard and fast. His hands envelop your tits, groping and squeezing. You can’t stop yourself from keening into his mouth when his fingers brush against your nipples, and you can feel him grind against you when he hears. His hardness presses against your bare thighs, showing how badly he wants you. He grabs at you like you’ll disappear between his fingers, fade away like all of the dreams that have been haunting you.

Another pinch at your nipples makes you cry out, and you pull back, begging, “Sanji, please, more!” You want to feel his fingers inside you, his tongue, his cock. Any and everything he could give you you want, and you feel so sure that he would gladly let you take it. He would give you the heart out of his chest if you asked.

He moans as his bulge rubs against your thighs again. “Fuck, of course, angel. Whatever you want.” He slides lower, and you feel his fingers slide along the fabric covering your slit. He carefully traces a path up to your clit, lightly pressing against it through your panties, making you suck in a breath. His eyes travel between your face and his fingers, taking note of your reactions.

He eventually slides off your panties, letting out a soft noise of appreciation once he’s able to see all of you. He leans closer, mumbling something you don’t quite catch, before his mouth is on you.

“Ah, Sanji!” You cry out in surprise, your thighs clenching together, and you can feel him moan against you at the pressure. His tongue moves expertly, which you suppose makes sense; Sanji is a man who knows how to appreciate a good meal. His hands reach up to grip your thighs, not to pull them apart, but to pull you even closer, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he dives further into you. His nose brushes your clit, making you keen again, and you can feel him smile against your cunt. 

You feel a familiar tension building in your gut as his tongue shifts to your clit and he inserts a finger, then two, then three inside of you, curling in a come hither motion that makes you see stars. You get noisier and noisier as the coil tightens, and Sanji only grows more enthusiastic with every moan and cry he manages to pull from you. His hips are grinding desperately against the mattress beneath you. Your thighs continue to tighten around his head, and you worry you’ll crush him, but you imagine that’s the way he’d want to go.

With one final flick of Sanji’s tongue and push of his fingers, you come unraveled around him, nearly screaming his name as you’re hit with white-hot pleasure. His fingers work you through it, only stopping when your thighs go slack around him and you let out a soft whimper. He crawls up to see your face, to see the evidence of his work, and you can see he’s absolutely covered in your wetness, his facial hair soaked in you. His pupils are blown out, his eyes nearly entirely black and looking nearly maddened with lust. He kisses you, and you can taste yourself on his lips.

“Please, please let me feel you. I need to feel you around me. Please.” His voice is ragged as he pants, a whine behind it as he begs to fuck you.

“Please,” you whimper back.

His fingers hook below the waistband of his boxers, and he slides out of them slowly. His cock stands proudly, long and thick, leaking precum. He gives you no time to admire it, swiftly lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing himself into you, moaning into your ear at the feeling.

“Darling, you feel heavenly,” he groans. He sits still for a moment, giving you time to adjust and just enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him. “I could never have imagined how perfect you are. The dreams never did you justice.” You try to move your hips, but his hands are holding you still. You let out a whine, pathetic and wanton, and his lips tug into a smile. “Are you ready, my dear?”

“Yes, god, yes.”

He pulls himself out slowly, before reentering a little faster, the next time a little faster than that, increasing his speed bit by bit until he’s relentlessly pounding you into the mattress. He mumbles endless praise for you that gets lost between his moans, only allowing you to make out princess and tight and perfect. The room is filled with these small praises and the sound of slapping skin. You lean up to kiss him, but he doesn’t let you, instead staring intensely into your eyes, determined to see your face when you cum.

He watches your face as your orgasm grows closer, his hips speeding up and his fingers reaching for your clit. His gaze is loving, admiring, nearly worshiping, and his words at some point turn into a prayer: for you, for him, for what you’ve created here in this room to last long after the door opens and you return back to a life where this becomes real. Your orgasm hits you harshly, making you cry out, and he watches enraptured as you come apart around him. He tries to keep his pace steady, but his hips stutter as he cums inside of you, filling you with warmth.

He stays like that, cock inside of you, eyes locked onto yours. The only sound in the room is your heaving breaths, the only sensation either of you feel is the warmth of the other grounding you here.

“I think I love you,” he murmurs. “Can I say that? Can I make it real?”

You wrap your arms around him, pulling his head to your chest, cradling him there. “Please do. I want it to be real. I want you. I love you.”

He adjusts, pulling out of you, crawling up slightly to fully make his home in your chest. His shoulders shake, and you hear a sniffle. You don’t say anything, simply running your hands gently through his hair, across his cheeks, down his back.

“I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you.” He nuzzles his face even deeper into you.

“I think I’ve wanted you just as long, even if I didn’t realize it.”

“I adore you.” His voice is thick with emotion, and you think maybe this confession is deeper and more difficult than his first. 

“I adore you too, Sanji. You’re one of the most wonderful people I’ve ever met.”

You sit there, basking in each other’s presence, enjoying a world where this gets to be real. You drift off to sleep peacefully, with the reassurance that when you wake this won’t just have been another troubling dream. Nothing is more real and grounding than his arms wrapped around you, his leg thrown over you, his lips still lightly pressed against your skin. You know you’ll see him tomorrow, shining brilliantly in the sun, and walk back hand in hand. You still dream of him, but the lovesick smile he gives you when you open your eyes is better than any dream you’ve ever had.

[little-diable]

Meant to be – Prof!Spencer Reid (smut)

I just love writing prof!fics – almost as much as I love priest!fics. Almost. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is a young professor joining the university Spencer works at. Even though he's annoyed about having to share his office with her at first, he can't help but fall for her all too quickly.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, office smut, some possessiveness/jealousy, lots of fluff

Pairing: Prof!Spencer Reid x fem!prof!reader (3k words)

“Professor Reid?” The soft voice filled his office, forcing his eyes off the paper he was currently grading. His gaze wandered over the woman's features as he curiosity studied her for a moment before clearing his throat. 

“My office hours are over, please return on Wednesday for your questions.” His eyes left hers to refocus on his papers, while expecting her to turn around and leave, urged on by the rude tone he hadn’t been able to shake. Spencer hadn’t expected anybody else to turn up this late in the afternoon, he was desperate to squeeze as much work into the remaining time he had alone in his office, already overstimulated by the mere thought of having to share his office with somebody from today on. 

“My name is (y/n), I’ll be sharing this office with you.” Once again he was forced to look at her, unable to swallow his annoyance as it began to dawn on him that she wasn’t a student.

She was pretty, by far prettier than all the pictures he had searched on the internet the second he had heard about her, about (y/n) joining his personal safe space. Why hadn’t he recognised her? Was his mind already that fed up with the pretty stranger? 

“Of course, I’m sorry.” He didn’t move as she slowly stepped into the big room, letting her eyes wander before finding her way to her space. The old wooden desk had been placed near the big window, drenching her in the light of the slowly setting sun. Spencer would crash and burn if he were forced to see this daily, a sight so ethereal he feared this was just a trick of his tired brain. 

“I’m sorry that you have to share your office with me, I can only imagine how annoying that must be for you.” He wanted to protest, wanted to tell her that he doesn’t mind sharing it with her – polite words any other colleague would have effortlessly spoken. But all Spencer could do was hum and redirect his gaze to the papers, while missing the slight hurt expression (y/n) couldn’t hide. 

……

Her heart was pounding with a faster beat, singing a tale of nervousness in her chest she couldn’t silence just yet. This wasn’t an unusual situation for her, she had taught numerous classes before, but the first class she taught at a new university always had something special to it, something (y/n) couldn’t shake. 

The students were working on the papers she had handed out a minute ago, fully engrossed by the story. She let her eyes wander, taking them all in in hopes of remembering at least a handful of them. But her thoughts were silenced the second her eyes found his. Spencer Reid was leaning against the door and with his arms crossed in front of his chest he intently studied her from his spot.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as it silently whispered to (y/n). It had been days since she had first crossed paths with him, the annoyed, closed-off man who was more handsome than she liked to admit. Ever since their first awkward run-in she hadn’t tried to make any conversations with him, she had opted to wear her headphones around him, hiding herself from the curious eyes she felt on her frame whenever she let her work swallow her. 

Neither of them dared to break their eye contact first, a silent challenge both were determined to win. (Y/n) allowed herself to take him all in, the locks perfectly framing his handsome face, the slight unfamiliar smile playing on his lips, and those twinkling eyes that seemed to follow her around whenever they crossed paths. 

“Alright, seems like our time is up, if you have any questions about your reading, please email me.” She was forced to break their staring contest first, smiling at her students who smiled back at her before leaving the room. (Y/n) couldn’t help but notice how a few of them wore overly bright smiles as they walked past Spencer, seemingly just as affected by the professor's handsome appearance, just like (y/n) was. 

Only as the last student had left the room did Spencer finally begin to move. Slowly, he walked down the stairs, moving closer to (y/n) with every passing moment. She was glued to her spot, patiently waiting for the man to break their silence, to let her hear the raspy voice that had rang in her ears for the past days. 

“That was a really interesting lecture, (y/n).” He came to a halt only a few steps away from her, keeping a slight distance between them as if he was unsure how to properly approach her. For a moment, (y/n) had to avert her gaze, she began to pack her bag with a slight smile stuck to her lips, hoping that he wouldn’t pick up on the nervousness flushing through her whenever he was close. 

“Thank you, Spencer, that means a lot coming from a beloved professor like you.” Her words drew a gritty laugh from him, while a slight rosy tint began to flush his cheeks. (Y/n) shouldered her bag before she began to walk up to him, wordlessly asking him to follow her up the stairs and back to their office. 

“Listen,” Spencer cleared his throat before he kept speaking, seemingly unsure how to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I am sorry about those first days, I was annoyed and quite unfriendly to you. Would you allow me to make it up to you?”

“Oh, Spencer, that is very kind of you, but I get it, I would be just as annoyed if I had to give up my personal space to share it with a stranger.” Her soft voice left him smiling, unable to look away from (y/n) while stepping back into their own little bubble, the safe haven they found in their spacey office that was filled with books and collected items. 

“Would you want to get some food with me, as an apology? We could also order in, if you want.” He plopped down on his chair the same second (y/n) did, while holding eye contact from their spots. 

“Sure, that would be lovely, thank you, Spencer.”

……

Her phone had buzzed in her pocket a few minutes ago, and even though it had ripped (y/n) out of her thoughts, she was determined to get her search over with before giving into the pull. She had just finished her class and was now combing through their library, in search of new reading material, desperately trying to find her books. 

With a relieved sigh she reached for the book she had looked for these past minutes, pressing it to her side before finally giving into her heart’s silent call. (Y/n)’s hand wandered to her phone, unable to bite down her chuckles as she read Spencer’s all too simple message. 

“Thai or Italian?” 

Ever since that evening in their office, where they had ordered in and started to get to know one another properly, they had begun to form some kind of routine, ordering food at least once a week to spend their evenings together. Spending time with Spencer felt all too easy, too natural, something that made her feel more confused than she liked. 

She was about to type out her reply as she collided with somebody, forcing her eyes off her phone. Hands found her waist to stabilise her frame, keeping the young professor from losing her balance. (Y/n)’s wide eyes found a pair of brown ones, she studied the man for a second before parting her lips to apologise.

“I am so sorry, are you alright?” Her question drew a soft laugh from him. She had seen him from afar a few times, another professor she had yet to properly introduce herself to. He was a handsome man, taller than her and slightly older, and yet he had nothing on the professor she shared her office with.

“Don’t worry, are you alright though?” The man still had his hand placed on her waist, holding onto her while murmuring the question. Just as she wanted to reply, to tell him that nothing had happened, her name was called, forcing her attention towards Spencer, who was approaching the two. An unreadable expression tugged on his features as he studied her and the hand of their colleague which was still glued to her waist. 

“There you are, I was looking for you, sweetheart.” Heat flushed through her at the unfamiliar term of endearment. The second Spencer reached her side, he pulled her from the man’s grasp, straight into his arms. She could only gape up at him, torn between her confusion and the slight twinge of excitement she couldn’t shake as she took in his clear expression of jealousy.  

The man muttered something (y/n) couldn’t pick up, fully focused on Spencer and the way she fit all too perfectly into his grasp. No words were shared between them as they held eye contact, staring at one another as if it was the first time they got to take the other in. Spencer’s thumb stroked soft circles into the fabric of her shirt before he slowly – almost reluctantly – let go of her. 

“I, uhm, you didn’t reply, so I thought I’d go find before you get lost.” Spencer’s whispers drew a soft chuckle from (y/n). She couldn’t stop herself from reaching for his hand to lightly squeeze it as her smile kept growing.

“And what was that whole thing with calling me “sweetheart”?” The blush she was all too familiar with by now returned to his cheeks, while forcing his eyes from her. (Y/n) squeezed his hand again before she began to tug him down the hallway, set on finding their way back to their office.

“Don’t worry, Spence’, I quite liked it.” 

……

“You’re so quiet, what’s going on in that head of yours?” She mumbled the words as she studied Spencer. They were both sitting on the floor, leaning against the small couch placed near their bookshelves, while finishing their food. It had been almost an hour since their situation at the library, but while (y/n) had made some more jokes about the situation, Spencer had grown quiet, deep in thought. 

Spencer’s gaze flickered from his hands to her curious features. He studied her for a few seconds before he placed his plate down and fully turned towards (y/n). No words were shared between them, they were caught in a thick fog of unspoken thoughts, longings, and fears.

“Can I try something?” His husky voice was about to draw a gasp from (y/n). She could only nod her head, not daring to break out of the grasp this situation had on her. Spencer’s hand found her cheek, while his eyes were focusing on her lips. He let a few seconds pass before closing the distance between them. 

Within seconds he had pulled her into his lap, letting (y/n) straddle his thighs as their lips moved in sync. Their hearts were racing, pounding in their chests to beg one another to keep on going, to let their tongues meet while growing comfortable in the new sensation that held their souls hostage. The kiss felt all too perfect, something they had been waiting for ever since crossing paths, something they had longed for and thought of for weeks now. 

“I can’t stop thinking of the way he touched you.” Spencer murmured his words against her lips. A confused expression began to tug on her features as she patiently waited for him to keep on talking. 

“You’re mine to touch, and not his, you’ll never be.” Possessiveness dripped from his words – a possessiveness so strong, it made her feel as if they had been together for years, sharing memories neither could shake. (Y/n) couldn’t speak up, not when she felt Spencer’s hands disappear beneath the fabric of her blouse, softly stroking her sides. 

“Spencer,” she gasped his name, desperate for more, another touch – anything he’d offer to her. His lips began to find their way down her throat, sucking on spots that made her tingle with a biting heat threatening to leave its mark on her forever. (Y/n)’s hands tugged on his curls while trying to shuffle even closer, letting her core grind against his growing bulge. 

“We shouldn’t do this here.” (Y/n) could only whisper the words as his hands pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her bra to his wandering eyes. The groan that left Spencer at the sight made her forget every word she wanted to speak, every warning, nothing but hazy thoughts were left behind. 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t, baby.” The raspy command forced her to arch her front into his touch. She felt as if he had set her ablaze, burning for him only, a summer solstice bonfire that left her shaking and trembling in a desperate need to turn every offering into something worthy. 

“People will hear.” His hands kept moving, urged on by the desperate whines leaving (y/n). The cold air teased her now naked chest, the hardening nipples Spencer’s fingers tugged on, drawing the most sinful sounds from her parted lips. 

“And? Let them hear how good I’ll be fucking you.” The words seemed to do something to (y/n) - they forced her hands to move from his hair down his front to slowly undo his trousers. Both knew that there was no way out of this, they were high on the feelings the other pushed through them, desperate for the highs they could already feel creeping closer without being properly touched.  

“How can you be so sure you’ll satisfy me enough?” She was riling him up, teasing him in a desperate attempt to forgo any foreplay to be filled by him, needing to feel Spencer buried deep inside of her. They held eye contact for a second as she finally managed to free his cock, twitching in her grasp as if he felt the same exciting heat burning deep inside of him. 

Spencer didn’t speak another word as he pushed her off his lap to murmur a raspy “Undress”. He stared at her as (y/n) pulled out of her jeans, with her soaked panties following a second later. Her skin was prickling, unsure how to act around the man who was now seeing her completely naked for the first time. 

They kept looking at one another while Spencer fisted his cock, giving himself a few pumps before a smirk tugged on his lips. With his hand finding the back of her head, he pulled her in for a teeth-clashing kiss – a kiss so desperate (y/n) feared he’d rob her of her last breath. 

“Turn around, chest down on the couch.” Slowly, (y/n) turned around to follow his command, only to feel him behind her a few moments later. She heard Spencer shuffle around and rip open a condom, before she felt his slender fingers at her aching heat. A loud moan managed to break through her at the feeling of his digits brushing through her slit, collecting drops of her arousal to spread it on her pulsing bundle. 

(Y/n) had to claw her fingernails into the fabric of the couch to ground herself, to let go of a few deep breaths – all while Spencer slowly pulled his fingers away to push his cock towards her entrance. With one hand placed on her waist, he held onto (y/n) while slowly pushing into her – a sensation so strong, it pulled raspy moans from the both of them. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.” (Y/n) could only let go of a sob at his praises. She had her eyes squeezed shut, knuckles turning a few shades lighter from the strong grip she had on the couch. Spencer pulled out of her, only to fuck into her with more force, letting his hips meet her behind with every thrust. 

This was neither sweet nor was it slow, it was a desperate fuck, an attempt to get rid of the tension lingering between them, the longings neither of them had managed to shake ever since meeting for the first time. It was a perfect chase that now ended with both of them tumbling to their knees, losing all grip on reality, while being fucked into oblivion. 

“Spencer, fuck, you feel so good.” Tears dripped from her eyes while the words broke through her – words that filled Spencer with pride. His smirk began to widen as her moans grew louder, rumbling through their office like a song both played on repeat.

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock, baby.” Her fingers blindly followed his command, she circled her pulsing bundle to push herself closer and closer towards the edge, high on the sensation that began to thump through her veins. With her teeth buried in her lower lip, (y/n) tried to keep another moan from leaving her, very well knowing that anybody could burst into their office any second now, a risk neither of them should take. And yet they couldn’t care, not when he was buried deep inside of her and about to fuck her through her high. 

(Y/n) began to tremble as her orgasm climbed up her limbs, momentarily robbing her of her sight as black spots appeared in her vision. Spencer kept fucking her from behind, more ferocious with every thrust to chase his own high, set on following her down the edge. Their moans got tangled, ringing in their ears as if fireworks went off in the distance to support them through this long awaited moment. 

Spencer came with a groan of her name, he clung to her as they both rode out their highs with racing hearts and quivering limbs. Heavy pants left them, filling the room with every breath spluttering from their lips. 

“That was,” the rest of her sentence was left hanging in the air. Spencer slowly pulled out of her, he tossed the condom away before finding his way back to her. A slow kiss was shared between them, with his hand cupping her cheek, and hers resting on his shoulders. 

“Perfect, like it was meant to be.”

[siren-nate]

The AvA crew are masters of body language

It might seem obvious, given how emotional the stories are despite being told with characters that don't have facial expressions or dialogue, but I never realized just how incredible the body language is in these animations until a recent rewatch with a friend (@butchpeabody) who really pointed it out and emphasized it to me.

I want to talk about it a bit using what may be my favorite scene across the entire series, that being the scene of King in the void during the climax of Season 3.

Even after the point in the story where we learned his sympathetic backstory, King is a character that lives up to his crown by being a villain of imposing presence and even an appreciation for finery. But after the moment where he cracks and tries to save Purple in the middle of a full-blown PTSD attack, this is the very next scene we see of him. He's haggard, hunched over, walking listlessly with none of the intimidation or class we've gotten used to seeing from him. For an antagonist defined by his determination and refusal to stop or slow down for even a moment, this is already striking even before he finds the memory of his house.

It's an incredibly subtle thing that lasts less than a second, but I love how he has to duck his head down to fit under the doorway due to his crown. It's symbolic of something important: this place was once his home, but now that he's finally returning to it with his descent into obsessive villainy completed, it feels alien and uncomfortable. He's no longer the man that lived here as long as that crown sits on his head.

The first thing in this entire scene that gets some spark of emotion out of him and breaks his listless walk is the chalk appearing on the wall.

And when that vision continues, reminding him of how this alien world took his child away from him, he doesn't move. His lack of reaction IS a reaction; you can imagine the stony look on his face as he silently agrees with his past actions to destroy an entire universe just to get revenge for Gold.

But then that finally changes when he sees all of the living beings that the drawing of himself is hurting. His head raises in shock, and you can imagine his eyes widening as he has to grapple with his actions for the first time. The moment his empathy cracks through, that crown is completely off-screen, reminding us of the caring man smothered underneath it.

And then, Gold appears. It makes sense that seeing the child he lost enter the vision gets the biggest reaction out of him yet...

...and that reaction gets even bigger when he sees what "King" is doing to his child's memory.

For the first time since he started on his revenge quest, his composure shatters. He starts beating on the wall, desperate to make the vision stop, to undo all of the harm he's caused, to take back all of the mistakes he's made wielding his memory of his child like a cudgel. He only becomes ever more frantic and desperate when Gold turns into Purple, and it fully sinks in for him that he's become the evil force he imagined in his head just to have something to take revenge on. He never wanted to cause anybody the same pain he went through, but not only did he dehumanize all the residents of this universe in his mind, his endless rage has even started hurting people that come from the same dimension as him.

The imagery of King desperately beating on a wall with everything he has is absolutely vital to this episode; it shows up twice in his backstory, and for the third and final time here. The first time, it represents how he couldn't save Gold. The second time, it represents how pointless his mission to avenge them is.

But the third time is different.

Because the third time...

The wall finally breaks.

You can see him standing there in shock. He expected it to be just as indestructible as every other time, expected his struggle to be just as futile as always. Because that's always been King's fatal flaw: short-sightedness. An inability to consider "And then what?", or to look at what he's doing and ask himself if it's worth it, or to think of something better he could do.

But when he raises his head and looks, he finally gets it. Now, the wall is breakable - because he does have something better he can do with himself.

It takes a second for him to get over his shock and put it all together, but once he does, he's not walking anymore. He's running like his life depends on it.

Purple's screentime in this scene is much shorter, but it's no less impactful or brilliant in its execution. They raise their head as they hear footsteps, but just like King seeing a false vision meant to show him the truth, Purple doesn't see him running at them - they see Indigo.

They stand up, but it's just as slow as how King walked earlier. They don't care that Indigo is back, not really - they've moved on from how their parent abandoned them. But they still care enough to stand up to find out what the hell Indigo wants.

At first, Purple almost seems like they expect to be attacked and hurt again. In which case, it's extremely powerful that they don't move to defend themself...

...and even moreso that because of that split-second vulnerability, King is able to practically tackle-hug them unimpeded.

Again, purely through body language, you can see so clearly how Purple has absolutely no idea how to react. Being held so tightly by someone who cares about them so much is something they haven't experienced in years.

But just as King can let go of his painful past to make a better life in the present...

So can Purple.

[maxwell-grant]

HEROFY: Annhilus.

A weird thing about where Annihilus stands nowadays is that, his original defining motivation was a complete and total fear of death, right? He was completely obsessed with preserving his own life to the extent of angling to murder everything else in the universe just so that nothing could ever possibly threaten his life ever again. But then after his major stint as a big bad in Annihilation and I think starting in Hickman Fantastic Four, he is instead defined as someone who is wholly incapable of dying (not just him, but everyone from the Negative Zone apparently) and who even actively wants it, still obsessed with death and slaughter but in an almost directly opposite way from his previous reason for it. Honestly, I love both approaches, I love Annihilus in general he's a very easy cosmic monster to love if nothing else because of the design, it's just it doesn't seem like they've ever conciliated these wildly different motivations. That's where I'd start, I think. Conciliating these two together.

Annihilus as a mutant spore who emerges near-fully formed as the first intelligent being born in the Negative Zone, completely incapable of getting answers to his existence and dealing with the creatures around him that keep trying to attack and hurt him, until this little nerdy cockroach stumbles on an alien spaceship and is brain-blasted with all the knowledge of his creators turning him into a near-immortal powerful new being who goes on to create new lifeforms, essentially ruling the primordial Negative Zone by default. Not out of any desire for conquest, but because it's the safest place to be, he figures. He doesn't yet know what it's like to want things, he is just fiercely obsessed with protecting himself from injury and death as a remaining defining primal instinct and so he creates the Cosmic Control Rod as essentially just a tool to protect him via combat, and then the Fantastic Four steal the rod from him.

They give it back after they're done with it, but in subsequent excursions to Earth, he learns what they were using it for. Over early attempts to attack this planet and the people that invaded his home the first time, so they may never invade again and never endanger him again, he learns what it feels like to die and come back. It feels nice. It feels good. It feeelssss sssssweet, ssssweeet death that brings resssurection. His greatest fear comes true and it's the first time he discovers joy. He learns that, not only is he immortal, but he has ways to prolong or save the lives of others. Death isn't scary at all, in fact it only made him stronger. He doesn't even need the rod anymore, it's basically just an Excalibur at this point to determine who rules the Zone. Hero Annihilus is driven thus by a desire to simply let everyone else in the universe join in on how awesome it is to live in the Negative Zone with him in charge, because on your boring mudball, you die, but in the Negative Zone, you can live.

It might take a few tries to convince him that the rest of the universe very much cannot come back from dying and very much does not share his enthusiasm about death and resurrection, but that in turn further drives him to share it. He will step up to prevent multiverse destroying catastrophes and refrain from murdering people not in his jurisdiction, but really, if everyone was in the Negative Zone, being slaughtered would just be a fun time that improves your life when you get it back. Skill issue on everyone else's part. The Negative Zone is great, guys, nobody has to die in it! His worms can bring you back everytime, if you don't just outright morph into something that molts and revives itself, like he did! We got trillions of bugs and technology and gladiator sports and tons of squirrels ever since Squirrel Girl's clone moved in, and if it's good enough for her it's definitely good enough for you.

There's at least 14 trillion and counting Negative Zoners already of the opinion that Annihilus is great and awesome and should rule everything forever, so democratically speaking, he's already a hero to more beings than the vast majority of Earth superheroes.

[blaire-apricity]

hellow can i make a request of a sylusxiseakaid reader who is a side character and her being unrequited love due to sylus has mc of l&d?

Unrequited Love

sʏʟᴜs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 & 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

One moment, you were having a regular day and as you were about to retire for the day, upon pushing through your door, you stepped into the foreign yet familiar world; your heart raced with excitement as you realized where you entered. What once existed only in your wildest dreams, the fantasy confined to your phone screen, had become your reality. You found yourself inside the very game you played for so long: ‘Love and Deepspace.’

Your old life, a cycle of dull routines and exhausting repetition, seemed distant now. Here you were, in a place you only ever daydreamed about. It felt like the universe had granted you a second chance—to rewrite your story in a world you once believed was unreachable.

But this new life came with its own challenges. Most painfully, it brought you face-to-face with someone you’d always admired from afar, separated only by the cold distance of a screen and the difference between reality and fantasy.

But now, it was different, you were closer than ever, yet nothing was as you imagined.

In the game, you had always been the protagonist in Sylus’ storyline. You thought that, now that you were here, it would be the same. But it wasn’t. Instead, you were reduced to a mere side character, watching from the shadows. The gut-wrenching disappointment hit hard.

Abandoning your old monotonous life was one thing. But realizing that the person you longed for might never see you—that hurt even more. Yet, you were determined to make the most of this second chance. Just because the person you love doesn’t love you back doesn’t mean your world has to end.

Right?

But convincing yourself of that was harder than you expected. Back when it was all fiction, when Sylus’ every move was scripted by developers, at least there was some comfort in the illusion that, in some way, he knew you existed. In that fictional world, he loved you.

Now, in this real version, he didn’t even know your name. He had no idea what you looked like, what you loved, or that you even existed. The sting of unrequited love was unbearable, but being invisible to him was what shattered your heart.

You clung to your knowledge of this world from your days playing the game, using it to guide you. You poured every ounce of effort, persistence, and determination into getting closer to his orbit. You left Linkon City behind and ventured into the N109 Zone, carving a path for yourself in his industry.

You were still far from his actual organization, but you understood the game’s rules better than most. You thought maybe—just maybe—you could introduce yourself, find a way to meet him, forge your own story with him.

For a while, that hope kept you going.

But then you saw him. With her. The real protagonist of this world.

That’s when it hit you. You weren’t her. This world didn’t revolve around you. With or without you, it continued, indifferent to your dreams.

Clenching your fists, you let go of that delusion. This love of yours, so deep and painful, would remain unrequited forever. And there was nothing you could do to change it.

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼 𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝐴𝑛𝑜𝑛. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑘𝑎𝑖 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔, 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦.

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑖𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 2 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑢𝑝𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 (𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦). 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡, 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝐴𝐷𝑆 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝐼'𝑚 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐿𝐴𝐷𝑆 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑡.

𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.

[mononijikayu]

lonely in gorgeous – ryomen sukuna.

In that small moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in a bit of nostalgia, thinking about the paths you both had taken. You hoped he was happy and successful, thriving in the world he had always been so passionate about. And though you doubted you would ever hear from him again, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about you, if he ever missed the days when you were his muse, and he was your world.

GENRE: alternate universe - fashion au!

WARNING/S: alternate universe - canon convergence, modern au, fashion au!, rated 18 and above, age gap (reader is in 20s and sukuna is in his 30s), explicit content, smut, p to v sex, flirting, romance, humor, strangers to lovers, lovers to strangers, break up, time skip (ten years later);

LISTEN: lonely in gorgeous by tommy february6

NOTE: this is probably my second favorite so far. because i keep thinking of hiromi and sukuna throughout but modern au??? i loved this a lot because its based on paradise kiss, which i think is one of the stories i loved in a long time. it makes me wanna rewatch paradise kiss. i'm very happy with this one. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do <3333

masterlist

kayu's playlist — side 700;

IT STARTED OUT IN A WAY YOU DIDN’T EXPECT. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the grassy expanse of the park. You sat on the bench, surrounded by the cacophony of rustling leaves and distant chatter, the weight of your textbooks heavy on your lap. Each page seemed to blur together, the words melding into an incomprehensible jumble as exhaustion gnawed at the edges of your mind.

As you stared at the pages before you, the thought of continuing down this path weighed heavily on your shoulders. This degree, chosen by your mother, felt more like a burden than a choice. It was her dream, her unfinished journey that you were expected to fulfill. Yet, with each passing day, the realization grew stronger within you that it wasn't your dream at all. It was a legacy you were expected to carry, a path laid out for you by someone else's ambitions.

The thought left you feeling adrift, caught between the expectations of others and the yearning for something more. The park, with its tranquil beauty, offered a brief respite from the chaos of your thoughts. Here, amidst the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of leaves, you found a fleeting sense of peace, a momentary escape from the pressures of academia and familial expectations.

The figure at the nearby table commanded attention, his presence as enigmatic as it was compelling. Ryomen Sukuna, renowned fashion designer, his reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the setting sun. His tall, imposing frame was a stark contrast to the tranquil surroundings of the park, yet there was an undeniable magnetism to his presence.

As he sat hunched over his sketchbook, his expression was one of intense concentration, his fingers moving deftly across the page in a frenzied dance. The lines he etched upon the paper seemed to materialize effortlessly, each stroke a testament to his skill and creativity. But beneath the surface, there was a simmering frustration, a sense of discontent that lingered like a shadow in the corners of his mind.

For Sukuna, the park had become an unlikely refuge, a sanctuary of sorts where he could retreat from the relentless demands of his craft. Here, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of city life, he sought solace in the simplicity of nature, hoping to unearth the spark of inspiration that had eluded him for so long.

Intrigued by the sight of you, Ryomen Sukuna couldn't tear his gaze away. The exhaustion etched into your features, mingled with an unmistakable determination, spoke volumes to him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. With a sense of curiosity piqued by the contrast of your presence against the backdrop of the park, he found himself compelled to approach you.

With confident strides, he closed the distance between you, his sketchpad clutched in one hand as though it were a precious treasure. There was a magnetic pull in his demeanor, an air of authority and intrigue that seemed to precede him like a gentle breeze, stirring the stillness of the evening air.

As he neared, his gaze never wavered from you, his eyes scanning your form with a keen sense of observation. It was as though he were studying a masterpiece, seeking to unravel the secrets hidden within the intricate tapestry of your being. And when he finally reached your side, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a tension that crackled between you like electricity waiting to ignite.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a mix of curiosity and determination. You looked up, startled by the sudden interruption. “Would you like to model for me?”

Confused, you furrowed your brows. “Model? I’m not a model. I’m just a student.”

Sukuna’s eyes glinted with a hint of amusement. “Doesn’t matter. I want you to be my model.”

You stared at him, still trying to process the odd request. “But… Why me?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know yet. But there’s something about you. I can’t explain it. Just think about it.”

Your mind buzzed with confusion as you watched Ryomen Sukuna retreat, leaving you to grapple with the unexpected encounter. His enigmatic demeanor left you feeling both intrigued and bewildered, as though you had stumbled into a world of mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

His simple yet cryptic words lingered in the air, echoing in your mind like an elusive melody. "There's something about you," he had said, a statement that sparked a flurry of questions within you. What did he see in you that prompted such a request? What hidden depths did he perceive beneath the surface of your tired facade?

As you held his business card in your hand, its sleek surface cool against your skin, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity stirring within you. What harm could come from entertaining the idea, if only for a moment? With a sense of hesitancy tinged with intrigue, you tucked the card into your pocket, a silent promise to explore the mysterious invitation further.

The sun hung low in the sky as you made your way back to the park, the familiar sight of Ryomen Sukuna sketching under the shade of a tree drawing you closer. With each step, your heart quickened, a mixture of apprehension and excitement swirling within you.

As you approached him, Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a small smile gracing his lips. "Back again, I see," he remarked, his voice smooth and confident.

You nodded, unable to suppress the curiosity that burned within you. "I couldn't stay away," you admitted, your tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Sukuna's gaze softened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I thought as much," he replied, his attention returning to his sketch. "Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

You hesitated, the memory of his cryptic request still fresh in your mind. "I'm not sure I understand what you see in me," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and self-doubt.

Sukuna looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a piercing intensity. "Sometimes, it's not about understanding," he replied cryptically. "It's about embracing the unknown. You won’t be able to live a life like this without embracing what makes life so hard, you know.”

“Why do you keep asking me?” you demanded of him. “I’m just a burnt out college student. What do I have to offer?”

Sukuna looked up from his sketchpad, his expression serious. “Because you’re my muse.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt a strange thrill at the idea. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself agreeing to his request. 

"I suppose……I could give it a try." you finally conceded, a hint of uncertainty still lingering in your voice. “What do I have to lose at this point?”

Sukuna's smile widened, a spark of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Excellent." he replied, a note of excitement creeping into his tone. "Trust me, you won't regret it."

“I hope not.”

“Little muse, you should pose on the other side.” He says to you. “I need to get your hair right for this one.”

You nodded at him. You  couldn’t help but ponder at his words for a moment, the weight of their meaning sinking in. He called you his muse. He needed you as his muse. You didn’t know why you agreed, but you knew you really had nothing to lose. And this gives you something to do, other than being miserable about your college life. 

There was something about Sukuna, you  couldn’t point it out even if you tried. But you knew that there was an air of mystery surrounding Sukuna that both intrigued and unnerved you. But despite your reservations, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

Because it was quite easy to see for you.

You think he was about to change your life.

And little did you know, you were right.

The following weeks were quite a hurricane storm. You were quite the spectator to Sukuna’s creativity. Everything about how he worked was something you had never seen before. He was always so full of passion, everything about it was electric. His energy was infectious, and you found yourself caught up in his world. 

You posed for him in various outfits he made each and every week, each one more daring and unconventional than the last. Despite his notorious reputation, Sukuna was surprisingly patient with you. He encouraged you, challenged you, and celebrated your progress. 

At first, it was hard adjusting to it all. You didn’t know if you actually had it in you to pull these clothes off. But he kept talking to you about each and every story the dress made and more and more, each piece of clothing he made for you to try and model in was clothes that slowly became your friend.

He pushed you out of your comfort zone, and you discovered slowly but surely, you came to realize that there was passion in you too, as much as there was the bounty of potential and confidence that was just waiting to be nurtured and waiting to blossom. 

The connection between you two grew stronger, and you began to understand why he had chosen you. Your exhaustion and determination, your raw, unpolished presence, was exactly what he needed to reignite his creativity. One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself sitting beside him over glasses of wine, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. 

As you sat beside Sukuna, watching him sketch with newfound clarity, you couldn't help but feel a sense of validation wash over you. You watch him pour another glass on your glass and then his.

"I think I'm starting to get it," you admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Told you, little muse." he replied, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "There's something about you that's just... captivating."

“Oh don’t flatter me that way.”

His words echoed in the dimly lit room, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of conversation. Sukuna's eyes held a glimmer of sincerity as he spoke, his grin genuine as he savored the moment.

"You've brought something back to life in me," he repeated, his voice carrying a weight of truth. It was a confession, raw and unguarded, revealing a vulnerability that belied his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m thankful.”

As you watched him, a warmth spread through your chest, your heart swelling with a mixture of pride and affection. To know that you had played a part in rekindling Sukuna's passion, in breathing life into his creativity, filled you with a sense of purpose unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I'm glad I could help," you said, sincerity lacing your tone. "And who knows, maybe this could be the start of something great."

Sukuna's gaze softened, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. "I have a feeling it will be," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, it already is, if I’m being honest.”

“Why me, really?” you asked softly as you take in the image of him. “Why did you choose me?”

Sukuna turned to you, his eyes reflecting the lights of the city. “Because you’re real. You’re not polished or perfect, and that’s what makes you beautiful. You remind me that inspiration can come from the most unexpected places.”

His words touched you deeply, and you realized that this experience had changed you. You were no longer just a burnt-out college student. You had become a muse, a source of inspiration, and in turn, you had found your own spark of creativity and passion. You were his muse, you were the essence of his wonder.  As you looked at Sukuna, you could see he was looking at you.

In that moment, as Sukuna's gaze met yours, you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you. It was as if the air between you crackled with an unspoken understanding, a shared connection that transcended words.

Without a word, Sukuna reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing second.

And then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises, a silent vow to cherish each other and the bond you shared. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, you locked eyes with Sukuna once more, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. In that simple gesture, you both knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary, a journey filled with endless possibilities and boundless love.

"Wow," you whispered, your heart racing as you gazed into Sukuna's eyes. "I never knew..."

Sukuna's smirk was tinged with affection as he brushed his thumb lightly over your cheek. "You never knew what, my dear muse?"

"That you could make me feel this way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "That you could make me feel... alive."

Sukuna's expression softened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings for you. "You've brought out something in me that I thought was lost forever," he confessed. "And for that, I'll always be grateful, little muse.”

You could feel yourself echo in the shade of scarlet as you leaned in to press another gentle kiss to his lips, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. He kissed you back, his hands encroaching against your jaw as he pulled you closer to him. In Sukuna's embrace, you felt a sense of belonging, a sense of completeness that you had never experienced before.

As you pulled away, a smile graced Sukuna's lips, his gaze filled with warmth and adoration. "Shall we continue to inspire each other, my dear muse?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. 

With a nod and a smile, you intertwined your fingers with his, knowing that together, you were destined to create something truly extraordinary.

When you look at him, the city lights seem dull.

Ryomen Sukuna was brighter than everything else.

And you fell in love with everything in him more.

IT WAS ALL AN INTENSE WHIRLWIND. At every turn, Sukuna flaunted your presence, introducing you to his acquaintances and peers as his muse, the source of his inspiration. Your relationship with him flourished amidst the glamorous backdrop of high-profile parties and events, where you were the center of attention, admired for your natural allure and captivating presence.

In the eyes of Sukuna, you were not just a model or a companion; you were the embodiment of his artistic vision, the muse who breathed life into his designs and fueled his creativity. Together, you navigated the intricacies of the fashion world, of his world as you basked in the spotlight and forging a bond that transcended mere admiration.

As your connection with Sukuna deepened, the lines between your worlds began to blur. He used his extensive network to secure opportunities for you, arranging magazine features where you modeled the clothes he had painstakingly crafted. With each photoshoot and editorial spread, you became the living embodiment of his artistic vision, seamlessly blending into the world he had created.

As your career flourished under his guidance, you found yourself spending more and more time in Sukuna's presence. He became not just your mentor, but your confidant and companion, guiding you through the intricacies of the fashion industry with unwavering support and encouragement.

With Sukuna's help, you acquired your own manager and began to take on more jobs, each one bringing you further into the spotlight. You reveled in the attention, basking in the glow of success that seemed to follow wherever you went.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the lines between both of your lives blurred almost imperceptibly. What began as occasional visits to his apartment soon transformed into a routine, with more nights spent in his space than in your own college dorm.

His apartment became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could escape the pressures and expectations of the outside world and simply be yourself. The familiar surroundings, infused with Sukuna's presence, offered a sense of comfort and security that you found nowhere else.

In Sukuna's world, time seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor each moment spent together. Whether it was cooking dinner together in the cozy kitchen, lounging on the couch as you watched movies late into the night, or simply sharing quiet conversations in the dim glow of lamplight, every experience felt like a precious gift.

And as you became more deeply entwined in Sukuna's life, you found yourself embracing aspects of his world that were once foreign to you. You attended glamorous parties and events by his side, proudly adorned with everything he made to fit only you. You enjoyed standing beside him as he spoke to other fashion connoisseurs, while you ended up mingling with fashion elites and modeling industry insiders who passed around their business cards to you one after the other.

But amidst the glitz and glamor, there were moments of vulnerability and intimacy that bound you together even more tightly. You realized that not everyone saw this part of the world Ryomen Sukuna orbited. You enjoyed his company, you enjoyed watching him pick apart fabrics all day. 

You’ve seen him be frustrated with his work each and every day. You’ve seen him rush to you with delight when he thinks that it’s perfect enough for you to wear. In that whole two years,  you found yourself sharing your hopes and dreams, your fears and insecurities, laying bare your soul in a way you never thought possible.

In the midst of the glamor and passion, there were also moments of turmoil and discord that tested the strength of your relationship. Arguments erupted over trivial matters, escalating into heated exchanges that left you both feeling wounded and raw. Tears were shed, words were spoken in anger, and the once serene sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment became a battleground for your conflicting emotions.

At times, it felt as though your lover was a tempestuous storm, his moods shifting unpredictably from blazing intensity to icy detachment. His affectionate gestures were often overshadowed by moments of aloofness, leaving you feeling bewildered and uncertain of where you stood in his heart.

But Sukuna was a complicated man, and his feelings for you were just as complex. He could be warm and affectionate one moment, then distant and cold the next. His hot-and-cold behavior left you confused and exasperated. There were times he seemed to take pleasure in toying with your emotions, pushing your boundaries, and testing your naivete.

In the midst of these turbulent emotions, Sukuna's behavior sometimes bordered on manipulative. He had a knack for using subtle tactics to exert control over you, whether it was through guilt-tripping, emotional manipulation, or even resorting to underhanded methods like calling your friends to inquire about your whereabouts without your knowledge.

These manipulative tendencies only added to the strain on your relationship, fostering a sense of distrust and resentment that simmered beneath the surface. Despite your love for Sukuna, there were moments when you questioned whether the tumultuous nature of your connection was worth the emotional toll it took on you.

Yet, even in the midst of the storm, there were moments of tenderness and vulnerability that reminded you why you fell in love with Sukuna in the first place. In the quiet moments of reconciliation, when apologies were whispered and forgiveness granted, you found solace in the depths of your shared connection, clinging to the hope that love would ultimately prevail over the trials and tribulations that threatened to tear you apart.

Leaving behind the familiarity of your college dorms for the sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment marked a significant turning point in your life. Graduation loomed on the horizon, a milestone that signified the culmination of years of hard work and dedication. Yet, amidst the celebrations and anticipation of what lay ahead, it was the quiet moments spent in Sukuna's arms that held the greatest allure.

With each passing day, your bond with Sukuna deepened, weaving itself into the very fabric of your existence. His apartment, once a temporary escape from the demands of college life, had now become your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Within its walls, you found solace and strength, a sense of belonging that transcended words.

The allure of Sukuna's presence was undeniable, you needed him. You knew there was no one else. You wanted him, all his ugly and dirty. In all his magnetic charm drawing you ever closer with each passing moment. In his arms, you found respite from the uncertainties and anxieties that plagued your mind, basking in the warmth of his affection and the reassurance of his love. You burned for him, as you always do. 

Ryomen Sukuna could only smirk as you clenched around him. He was trying to be careful with you, it was your first time after all. He could see the way your face scrunched as he kissed you all over, trying to distract you from the pain. He lets himself coo at you as he gives your forehead a small kiss.

"There, there," he cooed softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Just relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

His words were like a balm to your nerves, calming you as you adjusted to the sensation. You nodded, allowing yourself to relax into his touch as the initial discomfort began to fade.

"I trust you.” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

“I know you do, baby.”

His harsh thrusts could only really make your head spin. You held tight to him, moaning against his shoulder, tears falling from your face. His throat let out low growls one after another as he pushes through the depths of you with each and every bottoming down into you. He feels like he is molding into you, as much as he’s molding you into him.

“Yer so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He groans against you, his body enveloping all around you, the sweat of you melting against his skin. “Go ‘n baby, keep making those sounds f’r me.”

You could feel overwhelmed as he changed your position, your belly resting on the bed, his cock still inside you. You felt your body rattle as much as the bed did as l his huge cock effortlessly bullies deep into your hole with vigorous excitement. You could not stop feeling your insides be like they’re on fire. You could feel yourself squeeze around him tightly. 

His strong calloused hands wander below your chest, holding onto you the way he does with his fabrics — a sense of desire for the things that are beautiful. Soon enough, you could feel them strongly encroach against the will of your hips, fingers leaving imprints as they pressed hard against your skin. You could only  squirm under his intense gaze. 

You couldn’t even focus anymore as drool fell from your lips. You cry as you shake and shake against his touch. His rough kisses hurt, but you didn’t care. You let him paint his lips all over your body, those brutally vain beauty of lips touching every sensitive part of you. He grins as he watches you lose all sense. He watches you apart from him.

“My little muse, uh, y’r so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He says against your ear, letting out a moan. “I’ll make a good dress f’r you, a sequenced one? No, no, it’s going to be the same color of your skin. I’ll feast on it. I’m pretty sure. But I’m the only one who gets to see it. I’m the only one that gets to see you that way.”

“Y–yeah,” You mewl against him, lost in everything but pleasure. ‘’kuna, I’m feeling something, it’s tooooooo good.”

“I know, baby. I can feel you, hm? I can feel you tightening up f’r me.” He leans forward, his body pressed against the small of your back. He thrusts, causing you to moan harshly. “Y’r about to come, hm? Give it to me, hm? Be my good little muse.”

Sukuna grabbed you by the hair, pulling you towards him with a fierce intensity. His lips crashed into yours, a passionate kiss that left you breathless as he pressed your bodies tightly together. You moaned into the kiss, your voice vibrating against his mouth as Sukuna trailed his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of bites and marks in his wake.

He pushed more into you as his head rested on the side of your neck with a predatory grace. His hips ground against yours, eliciting a gasp from your lips. The room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing,tears pouring more and more as both of you closed the gates to pleasure

Sukuna's movements quickened, driven by a surge of pleasure and desire.. His mouth descended upon your collarbone, and neck — his free hand reaches breast, pinching it tightly as you cried. His tongue tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. You cried out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses as he marked you with his teeth.

The feeling of his warmth enveloping you was intoxicating, your eyes fluttering shut as you both lost yourselves in the sensation of being together. His thrusts grew harder and faster, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. You felt like your body was shutting down, with how cruelly deep he was getting into you.

Ryomen Sukuna  felt like he belonged inside of you. Here, in your arms, he was exactly where he wanted to be—lost in the embrace of someone he loved, sharing a connection that was raw, passionate, and undeniably real.

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time, each thrust bringing them closer to the peak of ecstasy. Sukuna's movements were swift as he moved you back on your back, arms pulling your legs upwards to him as he drilled his hips. 

You screamed in pleasure as you finally came, head pushing against the nook of the pillows.  But Sukuna was still waiting to get there. He kept pushing and pushing, as though he were driven by a primal need, a hunger that could only be sated by the touch of your skin, the sound of your voice, the taste of your lips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as pleasure washed over you in waves. Every sensation was heightened, every touch electrifying as you surrendered yourself to the moment. The intensity of your connection was overwhelming, consuming you both in a fiery blaze of passion.

"I love you." you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure as Sukuna's movements quickened.

"I love you too," Sukuna whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against your ear. "More than anything in this world."

With each word, his thrusts grew more urgent, driving you both towards the edge of ecstasy. The air was thick with passion as you clung to each other, lost in a whirlwind of desire.

As the intensity reached its peak, you locked eyes, sharing a moment of perfect understanding. And in that moment, as you surrender yourself completely to each other, you knew that your love would endure, forever and always.

Nothing was coherent anymore, all you could see was the stars as everything  between you blurred until there was nothing left but the two of you. Nothing existed between the two of you but being lost in a world of pleasure and desire. Time seemed to stand still as you soared to new heights, your bodies intertwined in a dance of ecstasy.

And as you finally reached the pinnacle of your passion, Sukuna's name tumbled from your lips in a breathless cry, a testament to the depth of your desire for him. In that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered—only the two of you, bound together by an unbreakable bond that transcended time and space.

The realization that your love story with Sukuna had reached its final chapter weighed heavily on your heart as you sat across from him in the dimly lit restaurant. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows over the table, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of love and life itself.

You couldn't bear to see Sukuna sacrifice his dreams for the sake of your relationship. As much as you longed to hold onto him, to keep him by your side, you knew deep down that it wasn't fair to ask him to give up his ambitions for you. His talent deserved to be showcased on a global stage, and you couldn't stand in the way of his success, no matter how much it pained you to let him go.

With a heavy heart, you realized that sometimes, even the most beautiful love stories must come to an end. It was a bittersweet truth that echoed in the depths of your soul, a reminder that life was filled with moments of joy and sorrow, of love and loss.

As you gazed into Sukuna's eyes, you knew that it was time to say goodbye. It was a decision born out of love, a selfless act of letting go for the sake of both your happiness. And though it tore you apart inside, you found solace in the knowledge that you were setting him free to chase his dreams, even if it meant facing the pain of being apart.

“When were you going to tell me that you got an offer from Paris?”

As Sukuna's gaze lingered on you, his eyes held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. It was a stark contrast to the man you had come to know so intimately, whose every thought and feeling had once been an open book to you. But now, as you sat across from him, you found yourself unable to read the nuances of his expression.

Your boyfriend had always been someone whose walls had gradually come down over time, allowing you to glimpse the vulnerability and truth behind his stoic facade. Yet, on this matter, his demeanor remained inscrutable, his thoughts veiled behind a mask of contemplation.

It was a disconcerting realization, to be faced with the uncertainty of Sukuna's intentions and emotions, especially in a moment as pivotal as this. You longed to understand his inner turmoil, to find some semblance of clarity amidst the swirling emotions that threatened to engulf you both.

But as you watched him take a sip of his wine, the silence between you stretching taut with unspoken words, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over you. Sukuna's unreadable expression left you feeling adrift, uncertain of where you stood in his heart and what the future held for your relationship.

"Why bring it up now?" he countered, his voice low and measured. "Would it have changed anything?"

You hesitated, grappling with the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, you understood Sukuna's desire to protect you from unnecessary worries and uncertainties. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

"I guess I just wish you had been more open with me," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've been through so much together, Sukuna. I thought we could share everything."

Sukuna's expression softened, a trace of regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching across the table to gently grasp your hand. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I just... I wanted to figure things out first, before I said anything."

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his words. Despite the hurt and confusion that lingered between you, there was an underlying sense of understanding and acceptance that anchored you to each other.

"I know," you replied, offering him a small, sad tentative smile. "I just wish we could have talked about it sooner."

“I don’t plan on taking it.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m planning to stay here and be with you.” He admits to you. “I already have a name for myself here.”

“But you would make a bigger name for yourself, if you go out into the world.”

Sukuna's gaze softened as he reached across the table to cup your face gently in his hand. "I don't need a bigger name," he said earnestly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Not if it means being apart from you."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, touched by his unwavering devotion. "But Sukuna, I don't want to hold you back from your dreams," you replied, your voice tinged with concern.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never hold me back, baby.” he said softly. "Being with you is the greatest dream I could ever imagine."

"Are you sure?” You mumble at him. 

“I am. I wouldn’t say this to you if I wasn’t.”

“But what if you resent me?” You whisper to him. “What ended up deciding I ruined your life? I won’t do that to you.”

Sukuna's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, his own emotions swirling in turmoil. He watched as you bit your lower lip, a telltale sign of your efforts to hold back tears. In that moment, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him, knowing that his decision was causing you such pain.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to hurt you."

You shook your head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. But the hurt in your eyes remained, a silent testament to the depth of your pain.

"It's okay," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be okay."

But Sukuna knew that the road ahead would be anything but easy for you. And as he reached out to gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, he silently vowed to do everything in his power to ease your pain, even if it meant walking away from the one person he loved more than anything in the world.

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "You’re letting me go, aren’t you?”

“I can’t join you in Paris.” You mumble to him as you purse your lips at him. “You know that.”

“That’s why I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

“But at the cost of your dreams? Sukuna, this is not good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me, and it's you.” His intense gaze burned you. “I’m not leaving you. Baby, I’m nothing without you. I can’t just leave you—”

Your eyes shone with bitter tears pouring down. “I can’t let you leave your dreams because of me. Not when you told me to follow my dreams no matter what.”

“But its not going to hinder me.”

“Those are easy words to say.” You whisper to him. “But one day, I know you’ll look at me and you’ll wake up and not feel happy anymore.”

“I love you.” 

As Sukuna's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest. You knew deep down that he was right—that staying together might ultimately lead to resentment and regret. But the thought of being apart from him was almost unbearable.

"I love you too, more than anything." you murmured, squeezing his hand gently. "But maybe...maybe it's time for us to part ways."

Sukuna's expression mirrored your own conflicted emotions, his gaze soft yet troubled. “We don’t have to do this.”

“It’s not going to make us happy.”

“But we’d be together.”

“But that’s not fair.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, weighted with the sorrow of an impending farewell. Sukuna's heart ached at the thought of letting you go, the idea of a life without you seeming almost unbearable. He longed to hold onto you, to defy the inevitable and cling to the love you shared.

"We don't have to do this," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around yours, as if seeking reassurance in the warmth of your touch. "We can find a way to make it work. We can fight for us."

Your heart clenched at his words, torn between the love you felt for Sukuna and the harsh reality of your situation. You knew that as much as you wanted to stay, to fight for your relationship, there were forces at play beyond your control.

With a trembling breath, you leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Sukuna's lips, savoring the bittersweet taste of goodbye. It was a kiss filled with all the love and longing that had defined your relationship, a silent farewell to the life you had built together.

As you pulled away, tears glistened in your eyes, reflecting the pain of your decision. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I love you, but I have to go."

With one last lingering look, you turned and walked away, each step a painful reminder of the love you were leaving behind. Sukuna watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow, knowing that this was the right choice even as it tore him apart inside.

Leaving Sukuna's apartment that night was one of the hardest things you had ever done. As you gathered your belongings and made your way to the door, each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the gravity of your decision. It was a choice born out of love and sacrifice, a painful acknowledgment that staying by his side would only serve to hinder both of your paths forward.

In the days that followed, you found yourself grappling with a profound sense of loss and longing. The absence of Sukuna's presence in your life left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a gaping emptiness that echoed with the memories of your time together. Yet, despite the ache in your heart, you knew that staying away was the only way to truly move forward.

You avoided places where you knew Sukuna frequented, unwilling to risk the temptation of running into him and reopening old wounds. The thought of seeing him again filled you with a mixture of longing and fear, knowing that even the briefest encounter could reignite the flame of your feelings for him.

Deep down, you knew that if you allowed yourself to see him again, you would be drawn back into his orbit, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. But you also knew that returning to him would only perpetuate the cycle of heartache and uncertainty that had plagued your relationship from the start.

And so, you made a conscious decision to stay away, to give yourself the space and time to heal. It was a choice driven by a desire for self-preservation, a recognition that true love sometimes means letting go, even when every fiber of your being longs to hold on.

Your manager told you when he was leaving.

You booked a shoot that same day, to keep busy.

Because you knew you would cry your eyes out.

You knew you’d go to the airport and see him off.

You didn’t want to break your hearts even more.

YOU THINK YOU’LL NEVER GET OVER HIM. Years later, you stood at the pinnacle of your career, having fulfilled your dream of becoming a successful model. Your name was well-known in the fashion world, and as you neared the age of retirement from modeling, you smoothly transitioned into acting, where you were already making a significant impact. 

Sukuna lingered in your thoughts like a haunting melody, an ever-present refrain that played in the background of your daily life. Despite the passage of time and the distance that now separated you, his presence continued to echo through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of the love you had shared and the dreams you had once dared to chase together.

In the quiet moments of solitude, his memory would surface like a ghost from the past, flooding your thoughts with bittersweet nostalgia. You would find yourself reminiscing about the moments you had shared, the laughter and tears, the whispered confessions and stolen kisses. Each memory was etched into the fabric of your being, an indelible mark that refused to fade with time.

Even amidst the hustle and bustle of your busy life, Sukuna's presence lingered like a shadow, casting a subtle but palpable weight upon your heart. His absence was a constant ache, a void that no amount of success or distraction could ever hope to fill. You would catch yourself reaching for your phone to text him, only to remember that he was no longer there to answer.

Each morning, you carefully selected an outfit from the collection of clothes Sukuna had designed for you. He left them to you to find in his apartment, one he also left you. He left the letter saying that he wants you to continue using it until the lease is up. That everything he had was always going to be for you — it was always going to be with the thought of you.

Each and everyday, you knew that there was always a happy feeling in you when you wore them. You still feel like you had a  connection with him through the fabric and cuts that had once been a part of his creative vision. His presence was woven into the very threads you wore, a constant reminder of the man who had once called you his muse. Somehow, you think, this was the only way that you could still love him — even when you both aren’t together anymore.

You often wondered where Sukuna was now, how he was thriving in the ever-evolving fashion world. Sometimes, when nostalgia struck, you would visit the store of his fashion house in Tokyo, browsing through the latest collections. Each piece you bought reminded you of him, a tangible connection to the past that you cherished dearly.

Despite your lingering feelings, you hadn't heard from Sukuna since he left for Paris. From what you heard from your mutual friends, he still keeps up to date with you. He buys your magazines, he watches your interviews, your shows. When you heard it, you could feel your heart break over and over. He still looks after you, from afar. 

You didn't expect him to call you now. That’s just not his style. Even back then when you were dating. But you think that he understands. You look at your ring, that butterfly ring that he made you. You purse your lips as you feel how it still fits after all this time. How it fits so much better than your engagement ring.

You didn’t know how it happened, but it just did. You don’t think that he’ll ever measure how Ryomen Sukuna shaped your life. How Sukuna had loved you. But you couldn’t expect anything less. But life had moved on, and so had you, or so you told yourself. You were getting married in a couple of months. To a man that has become a stability in your life for the longest of times.

Yet, there were moments when the memories would flood back—the nights spent at glamorous parties, the intimate conversations, and the way he had looked at you as if you were his entire world. The warmth in the way he said your name, the tenderness of his fingertips against your own. Those memories were bittersweet, a blend of happiness and longing that you carried with you.

In that small moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in a bit of nostalgia, thinking about the paths you both had taken. You hoped he was happy and successful, thriving in the world he had always been so passionate about. And though you doubted you would ever hear from him again, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about you, if he ever missed the days when you were his muse, and he was your world.

You were going to see a show in the Paris Opera while you both were on your honeymoon in France. Your fiance procured them for you. He’d always known that you liked opera. But you’ve never said out loud how and why. Because you knew that if you told him that you cling to him because of your first great love, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to him.

Still, you were going to go enjoy the show. He told you it was a romantic drama with comedy in the middle. But you knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to focus on enjoying the show as well as you want to. After all, it would be hard. You would be looking at those familiar passionate stitches and threads, knowing they were specifically made by request of the Paris Opera by the one you had loved the most — Ryomen Sukuna.

You think that this was the only ending.

But perhaps if there would be another one,

In all the alternate universes, all the next lives;

You’d wish that you and Sukuna were happy.

You’d wish you both would end up together.

[arc852]

19. Out of Reach

Definition: outside the distance to which someone can stretch out their hand.

Summary: Jimmy and Joel have been playing a 'game' for a while now. Jimmy would try his very best to not get caught while Joel was the one who tried to catch him. For Joel, it was fun. For Jimmy? It was terrifying.

G/t: Joel is normal-sized, Jimmy is a borrower

Warnings: Fear and feeling helpless and trapped

Word Count: 1843

AO3 Link

Okay, I just finished this one yesterday and its already become one of my favorites. I really love how this one came out.

Oh and before there is any confusion, this is not part of the BBBCAU. This takes place in a completely seperate universe.

I hope you guys enjoy!

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 Jimmy ran up the length of his string as fast as he could. He hadn’t expected Joel to get home so early but there he was, at the door and hurriedly trying to take his shoes off so he could run and try to catch Jimmy. Fortunately for the borrower, Jimmy made it up to the shelf with plenty of time.

 Joel finished yanking off his shoes and ran over to said shelf. He reached up on his tippy toes but his hand only reached the very front of the shelf. Jimmy’s breath hitched at the sight of the hand so close. He further pressed himself against the wall, thankful Joel wasn’t any taller. He heard the human huff.

 “What, are you pressed up all the way back towards the wall?” Joel asked, still trying to reach out his fingers to try and grab a hold of Jimmy. But Jimmy wasn’t moving.

 “...Yes.” Jimmy answered after a moment of hesitation. He wasn’t sure when it had started but he had started speaking back to Joel at some point during this whole thing. Joel had been surprised at first but Jimmy talking had just seemed to motivate him more in trying to catch him. Jimmy sort of regretted speaking because of that but he couldn't take it back. “Of course I am.” He added, because why would he put himself so close to the edge like that?

 Joel sighed and then his hand left the shelf. Jimmy let out a small sigh of relief himself. “Well, you’re lucky I don’t have a stepladder or anything. Though I suppose if I did have one you would be back in the walls before I could come back with it, huh?” Joel laughed at that. “Oh well, I guess you win this one. But you’re bound to make a mistake sooner or later, and when you do, it’ll finally be my turn to win.”

 Jimmy shivered at that. That was the last thing he wanted, for Joel to ‘win’. He had no clue what Joel’s plans were for if he ever did end up catching Jimmy, but Jimmy was determined to not find out.

 Joel’s footsteps retreated and Jimmy raised his head a little to see Joel sit himself down on the couch and take out his phone. Jimmy bit his lip, realizing the predicament he put himself in. There was no entrance into the walls up here, the closest ones were down below and in the kitchen. And with Joel staying in the living room, Jimmy was essentially trapped.

 It was fine though. All Jimmy had to do was wait for Joel to leave and then Jimmy could climb back down and head back home. Joel probably thought Jimmy was already back in the walls anyway. It would be fine.

 Except, Joel continued to stay in sight of the shelf. At one point he went into the kitchen but even from the kitchen Joel would be able to see Jimmy trying to leave. It had already been a couple of hours, why wasn’t Joel going to his room yet?

 Jimmy took a deep breath. It would be fine, he could stay here as long as he needed to. He might have to wait for Joel to head to bed but that was fine. Just as long as he wasn’t caught.

 But Jimmy hadn’t expected Joel to, at some point, glance up at the shelf again and be able to see him from where he was on the couch. Joel’s eyes widened and he stood up. “Jimmy? Are you still there?”

 Jimmy thought about staying quiet but then his eyes locked with Joel’s and he knew it was useless anyway. “M-Maybe I am, what about it?”

 Joel tilted his head and crossed his arms. “You’re usually back in the walls by now. So what…wait.” Joel’s eyes filled with a sudden realization. “You don’t have an entrance up there, do you?”

 No, no, no, no, no! Joel wasn’t supposed to realize that. “N-No, I do, I just-” Joel cut him off as a smile spread across the human’s face.

 “You totally don’t. Otherwise you would be long gone by now. Oh this is great.” Joel plopped back onto the couch, keeping an eye on the shelf. “Looks like my win is finally within reach.”

 Another shiver ran across Jimmy’s spine. He couldn’t get caught. “You’ll have to go to bed at some point.” Jimmy said, trying his hardest to keep the shakiness out. “I have a lot of patience.”

 Joel chuckled, making himself comfortable on the couch. “So do I. At least when it comes to this. I’m not planning on going to bed anytime soon.”

 Jimmy brought his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. He had to hope that he could wait Joel out. That Joel will go to bed or even end up falling asleep on the couch, either one worked. He just had to wait some more. He could do that. He had to do that.

 And so, both human and borrower waited. Joel spent most of his time on his phone, while Jimmy sat there just trying not to panic too much. At some point, Joel’s phone died and he sighed but pocketed it and glanced at the time. It was already well past when Joel usually went to bed and Jimmy was as stubborn as always. Joel huffed and looked back up at the shelf. He could just barely make out Jimmy’s figure in the way back.

 “Come on.” Joel finally said, breaking the silence. Jimmy jumped, startled by the sudden voice. “You gotta be tired or hungry or whatever by now, just come down already.”

 Joel was starting to sound frustrated, which was not a good thing for Jimmy. “Not going to happen Joel.”

 Joel groaned and threw his head back against the couch. “You really don’t want me to win that badly? It’s getting a bit ridiculous.” 

 Something in Jimmy broke at that. “Of course I don’t!” He shouted, his voice far louder than Joel had ever heard it. It made Joel sit up at full attention, eyes wide. “Of course I don’t want you to ‘win’, I have no idea what you have planned for me! You’re acting like this whole thing is just a fun game for you but for me it’s terrifying!” Jimmy breathed in and out, everything finally coming out about what he thought of Joel’s little ‘game’. He wasn’t sure what finally made him say it but it probably had something to do with the fact that…that…

 That he knew he wasn’t getting out of this. Not without being caught by Joel. His breathing became shaky and he slowly realized there were tears streaming down his face at the realization.

 Joel’s eyes were still wide. Still trying to process what Jimmy had said. “Are…Are you crying?”

 Jimmy sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yes.” Jimmy’s voice cracked. He didn’t see any reason to lie. It was obvious.

 Joel was silent, which was more terrifying than anything the human could have said. He heard some shuffling and then something dragging. He looked up to see what was happening in just enough time to see Joel’s face come into view. Jimmy’s breath hitched as he was face to face with the human for the first time.

 And then Joel’s hands were in view and Jimmy pressed himself even further into the wall, wishing he could melt into it. Wishing he was anywhere but here. “No, no, Joel, please don’t…” He cried, more tears replacing the ones he had just wiped away.

 The large hands came up on either side of him and Jimmy flinched and braced himself. The hands scooped underneath him and suddenly Jimmy was sitting in Joel’s cupped hands. His body shook, his fear overwhelming him. 

 “Caught you.” Joel said, his voice low. Jimmy let out a whimper, feeling helpless and pathetic. Joel stepped down and was back on the floor, still holding onto Jimmy. Jimmy shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see what was going to happen.

 But they quickly opened again when Jimmy realized he had been put down. He looked around, realizing Joel had placed him on the kitchen counter. He looked up. Joel was still there, looming over him but he quickly crouched down so he was more eye level with Jimmy. Jimmy scooted back, fear still in control.

 “I finally won. And…now you can go.” Joel said, eyes glancing away for a moment. Jimmy’s eyes widened, not knowing if he heard him right.

 “W-What?” Jimmy said, his voice a sharp contrast from his earlier yelling. 

 Joel sighed and looked back at Jimmy, meeting his eyes. Jimmy had the overwhelming urge to tear his eyes away from Joel’s but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I said, you can go. I…nothing was ever going to happen to you if I won. I just…I thought we were playing a game. I thought you were in on it.” Joel shook his head, eyes not leaving Jimmy’s still. “I’m sorry.”

 Jimmy felt…well, he wasn’t sure how he felt. He had been caught by Joel, finally. But Joel…wasn’t going to keep him? Or do anything with him? What was happening? 

 Finally, Jimmy tore his gaze away from Joel’s, eyes instead moving over to the shelf he had been on not moments ago. But now, underneath it, there was a stepladder. “I thought you said you didn’t have a stepladder?” Jimmy said, letting it distract him for a moment.

 Joel’s eyes briefly glanced over at the stepladder before settling back on Jimmy. “I lied.” He said simply. 

 Jimmy let out a small breath. “Oh.”

 Joel’s gaze softened and he sighed. “I really am sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Or make you think I would…do anything to you.” Joel shook his head and then stood up. Jimmy couldn’t help but flinch back. “I’ll leave you alone now. I won’t…try and catch you anymore.”

 Joel looked at Jimmy one last time and then turned around and left. Jimmy heard the door to his room shut and suddenly, Jimmy was alone.

 His entrance back into the walls was right behind him but for some reason, Jimmy couldn’t get himself to move. Everything seemed to have happened so fast, Jimmy was still trying to process it all.

 But the one thing he was sure of, was that Joel had let him go. And, apparently, had always had the intention of letting him go. This whole thing really had been a game to him but not in the malicious way Jimmy had first thought.

 Joel thought it was fun because he thought Jimmy also found it fun. It seemed like, the second he had realized Jimmy was scared, he stopped playing.

 Jimmy slowly stood up, his legs feeling wobbly. He looked over towards Joel’s room, watching for a long moment. When nothing happened, Jimmy turned around and walked toward his entrance into the walls.

 He had a lot to think about.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Miss Marianne Oliver, nineteen years old and enjoying her first summer away from home, was wholly unprepared for her first glimpse of the sea. The path that led them from the cottage to the beach was winding, climbing for a way before sloping down, and upon reaching its highest point, Marianne found herself suddenly in view of a glittering horizon and an expanse of water the likes of which she could not compare with anything she had ever beheld. She halted, mesmerised, unable to walk on.

A breeze carrying a fresh, unfamiliar scent touched her cheeks and she felt a peculiar, directionless joy she had never felt before. Who had ever imagined such a view!

“Oh Peter,” Marianne exclaimed. “Isn’t it beautiful. I must bring my watercolours next time.”

But her brother had no patience for admiring anything from afar and urged her to walk on, running ahead without waiting for an answer. “It will be better down at the water, I am sure!”

Marianne complied and continued down the path. She approached the beach with the happy solemnity that many others might bestow on a chapel, and Marianne had not walked there five minutes before declaring that there was no place she admired more. Her desire to visit Bath was all forgot, Thirrup, with its glittering waves and distant cliffs could do no wrong.

The weather, which had started fair, grew only fairer still, determined to add its lustre to the scene. Brother and sister both delighted in the sea breeze and the warming air; and while Peter spoiled his stockings by running at the advancing tides, Marianne abandoned her pelisse on a conveniently large piece of rock and let the wind muss the ribbons on her bonnet.

It was a long time before she was sensible of anything but the sky and the waves, but after a while she spied two figures walking quite some distance away. Two gentlemen, walking very close to the shoreline, whose twin, dark shapes seemed peculiarly enigmatic in the bright weather. One of the gentlemen was dressed in what she believed to be the blue coat of a naval officer, the other wore black, but both, she saw in surprise as they slowly moved in their general direction, were wearing a heavy fur cape about their shoulders. It was their capes, she realised, which had given their silhouettes their peculiarity. The two gentlemen walked as one, in perfect time with one another, seemingly not in talk but in perfect, silent agreement.

She watched them progress across the beach until one of them suddenly lifted his head and seemed to look directly at her. He was too far to discern the features of his face, but they were in full view of one another and Marianne turned hastily away, and, feeling she must say something after looking at them for so considerable a time, remarked:

“Look there! Did you ever see such a thing? Gentlemen wearing furs in summer!”

Perhaps it was a foreign custom? It was certainly a very strange one to adhere to in such fine weather, but how striking it looked.

“When I go to university,” said Peter, who had spoken of very little else since James had gone to Cambridge, “I shall wear just such boots!”

“When you go to university, you would do well to be less concerned with your boots and more with your books,” teased Marianne.

Peter paid her no mind whatsoever and having tired of running, not daring to go any nearer to the water, and knowing his sister would never be persuaded to walk into town unattended, declared that he wanted to back to the cottage. Marianne agreed with great reluctance and she hung back a little, walking slowly while her brother bounded ahead.

She had not yet reached the path, when a voice called out behind her and she turned to see, to her great confusion, the gentleman who had looked at her when walking the shoreline. He was a young man, looking rather breathless at that time, but with a pleasant, round face and the darkest eyes that Marianne had ever seen. He was holding out to her, draped over the sleeve of his black coat, her forgotten pelisse.

“Your coat, ma’am.” His voice was as pleasant as his face, and as breathless as his appearance.

“Thank you, sir!” she blushed, and as she took it back from him she noted that they were almost of a height. The fur coat, she saw, was not as bulky as she had thought; it was an almost sleek, grey-brown fur drawn close around broad shoulders.

The gentleman bowed, somewhat hastily, and quickly turned back to his companion in the Navy blue, who was standing back and looking very much amused.

“Come along, Marianne!” Peter called out from atop a great stone and Marianne, her cheeks red and her mind alive with curiosity, followed.

[Read the rest of this Regency Selkie Romance on AO3~]

[caileeflavoured]

motel sleepovers

rhett abbott x fem!reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: CHURCH GIRL UNIVERSE | Spending a night with you in a dingy motel room, Rhett has finally ruined you for good.

a/n: another repost. no tw's cause idk wtf I wrote but 18+ and nasty smut for sure

wc: 2k

MAIN MASTERLIST | OUTER RANGE MASTERLIST

“Daddy?” You walked into the kitchen, bag all ready and packed. He turned around and looked at you. 

Short, white dress, tight around the chest, loose around your legs, stopping just above your knees (he didn’t seem to notice the light bruising on them). Your hair half up, with a little white bow in it, and, of course, your rosary around your neck, its cross disappearing between the hills of your breasts.

He should be pleased to see it on you still — despite your most recent transgressions.

“Yes, my dear?” 

“I’m going to Pauline’s now… For the sleepover, you remember?”

“Yes, yes of course, my love.” He nodded and waved goodbye.

There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, but he’d been past the point of arguing with his only daughter. 

Deep down, he knew you were not going to Pauline’s, and he’d turned to praying silently each night, and after each confession hour, begging the Lord to save his sweet girl from the devil’s tight grip.

Only that it wasn’t the devil, it was—

“Rhett?” Your voice echoed in the truck as he stopped in front of the motel.

“Yeah?”

“Why here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” you hesitated, looking down at your lap as you kept nervously fumbling with your hands. “I thought we’d stay at your place.”

He scoffed. “Nah, sunshine. This place is much better. Trust me.”

He leaned over, his right arm propped up on the back of the seat, his hand reaching out to play with the little bow in your hair before he dropped it to your shoulder, slipping down the thin strap of your dress — giving you a little taste of what was waiting for you.

“You do trust me, do you?”

You nodded.

“Good girl. Wait here for me, I’ll go grab the key.”

As he exited the truck and headed towards the front office, he quickly disappeared behind the corner of the motel rooms, leaving you hidden in the vehicle. Almost as if he did it on purpose.

-

He didn’t give you much time to settle in (none actually) as he hurried to get rid of his clothes, all except for his underwear, his erection already very much visible. You moved to do the same but he was fast to stop you.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, then walked towards you. Cupping your cheeks, he tilted your head backwards to make you look at him as his thumbs caressed your soft skin.

A rare occasion.

“I wanna fuck you with that thing on.” He’d gifted it to you a while ago. Said it made you look so innocent yet so slutty. One hand moved down your side and you could already feel the wetness pooling between your legs. Maybe even dripping down your inner thighs — you had left the panties at home.

“Wanna get all in there while your tits spill out the top,” he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing ever so slightly against its shell.

His hand forced its way underneath the skirt, confirming what you already expected. You were dripping wet for him.

“Exactly how I like my little sunshine, ain’t that the truth, huh?” Rhett smirked as he scooped up some of your juices, then brought his fingers back up.

He rested them against your lip, quivering just like the rest of your body, as a result of the way he knew exactly how to tease you. 

“Go on, open up.” He pushed his fingers forward and into your mouth with his usual determined force. You didn’t know any other way of being handled. 

“Tastes good, huh?” You nodded obediently.

“But I taste even better, don’t I?” You nodded again. 

Rhett had taught you many things over the summer. Handjobs, blowjobs, you name it. He wanted to do all sorts of things with and to you, and he was patient enough to teach you how to do it, knowing all you needed were a few words of encouragement and the promise that he’d never come inside you again without a condom.

But he didn’t really care about keeping his promises.

He moved towards the bed and sat down on the edge, legs spread as he leaned back on his hands. His cock strained against the material of his boxer briefs, and you could swear there was already a dark, wet spot of pre-cum visible.

“Come here, sunshine.” And you did.

“Get down on your knees.” You did.

“Wanna show me how good you’ve gotten at this?” You nodded eagerly.

He helped you get rid of that one last piece of clothing hiding his fully naked body from your eyes, and you still needed a good few seconds to adjust to the sight of his erection. 

Heat never failed to creep up to your cheeks.

Nevertheless, you did as you were told, following the order of the steps he’d taught you.

You collected all the saliva in your mouth, letting it drip down onto his tip. You did that a few times, making sure he was all lubed up before you wrapped your lips around him, and your hand around the rest you couldn’t fit (although you had always tried your hardest to take in all of him).

“Look at you,” Rhett chuckled, his fingers tangled in your hair as he guided your motion. “Sucking dick like the lord Himself put you on this earth for just this purpose.”

He made sure to push your head further down each time, and soon enough he had you gagging around him whenever your nose touched his abdomen. He only let go once he was sure you’d keep taking in all of him. 

His laboured pants and strangled groans started filling the quiet motel room as he reached forward, grabbing the chain of your rosary, collecting enough beads in his fist before he pulled on it, slightly constricting your airways.

He loved the small whines that’d escape your mouth shortly after.

You continued sucking him off just like he taught you to until you thought you could almost feel him twitch inside your throat, so he pulled out.

Struggling to catch his breath, Rhett pulled you to your feet, groping hands not leaving the body of his little naive sunshine. He waited a few moments, then got up to walk behind you and push you down onto the hard mattress.

Your cheek pressed into the covers on the bed, he grabbed your arms to secure them behind your back before he pushed your skirt up, then positioned himself.

“W-Wait,” you muttered, voice barely audible.

He’d heard you. And chose to ignore you.

“Don’t worry, sunshine. ’s not your first time after all, huh?”

He’d bought some Plan B just to be sure; he needed the feeling of your slick walls around his naked he.

And so Rhett pushed into you with one swift motion, a groan followed by an ‘oh fuck, you’re so tight’ escaping his throat as he bottomed out. Pulling your hips closer to his, he quickly picked up a rough pace, taking everything he wanted and needed from you.

His little sunshine. 

“Does your daddy still make you say your Hail Mary’s every time you come back home with my cum running down your thighs?”

You cried out a strangled ‘mm-hmm’ as he kept pounding into you, using your pussy for nothing but his own pleasure, which — thinking about it — quite obviously turned you on like nothing else.

“Good girl. Now would be a good time to say them again, don’t you think? With all that sin spilling out your little cunt.”

Another small and fragile ‘mm-hmm’ fell from your lips before you did what Rhett demanded — just like you always did what Rhett demanded. “H-Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus-“

His relentless pace made it all the more difficult for you to quote your prayer as his cock repeatedly hit the deepest spot inside you. 

“Go on, keep going. I know you can do it,” he said, pressing you further down into the mattress, so hard you could feel the beads of your rosary leaving marks on your neck. 

Yet you continued. For him.

“H-Holy Mary, M-Mother of God, pray for us sinners-“

“Fuck! Such a good girl,” he groaned, suddenly pulling out.

He turned you around, revealing his sweaty chest and face to you with loose strands of his dark blond hair hanging in front of his eyes. A mischievous grin gracing his lips, he lay down on his back, lifting you on top of him. 

He finally rid you of your dress with one swift, rough motion — leaving you covered in nothing but the rosary dangling down between your tits — and didn’t even wait before he lined himself up again with your entrance, pulling you all the way down on his cock.

“Pray for us sinners, you say, sunshine?” He asked teasingly, that grin still present on his face as he held you in place on top of him. “What’s with the rest of the prayer?”

Rhett waited for you to say the last bit of your Hail Mary before he picked up his thrusts again, not letting you choose the pace or rhythm as he pounded into you from below.

“…now and at the hour of our death. A-Amen.”

“Yeah, that’s right, sunshine. Amen,” he chuckled, knowing how close you already were. “Now touch yourself for me, my little sinner.”

And so you did.

The tension inside you got nearly unbearable as Rhett kept fucking you like he’s never had before. The added pleasure from your own fingers quickly sent you to the edge as your high-pitched moans and whimpers filled the dirty, sticky air of the motel room. “You like that, huh?” Rhett said with a strained voice, visibly struggling to hold back his own high. “You do all sorts of things for a dirty old cowboy like me, and you love it, don’t you?” One hand of his moved up to your chest, toying with your nipples first before he grabbed your rosary, counting each bead of the five decades.

“And you won’t come until I’ve counted the very last bead, you got that, sunshine?”

You whined at his command, already threatening to fall over the edge with tears streaming down your hot cheeks. “B-But-“

“Nuh-uh, sunshine,” he cautioned you, yet did not interrupt his thrusts, and continued hitting your most sensitive spot with each one of them. 

Rhett ignored any more whines that followed his words, and continued his counting of the rosary beads, thrusting up into you with each one he counted, and hitting it extra hard every time he reached the last one of each decade.

“One more, sunshine,” he told you, but you’d already lost all sense of time and space.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6…

“And when I reach the very last one,” he said, voice hoarse and laced with pure lust, “I want you to come for me, okay?” “Mm-hmm,” you hummed, eagerly nodding your head, trying your best to be good and behave. 

Even though you were already closer to the edge than you would’ve liked. His counting was pure torture.

… 5, 4, 3, 2…

“Ready, sunshine?” But this time, he didn’t wait for an answer. He was way too close to his own high.

“One.” The orgasm crashed down on you like it never has before, heightening all your senses at once, yet the most intense sensation was the coil in your stomach that was finally allowed to snap.

And snap it did, leaving you a shaking mess as the waves of pleasure washed over you and as Rhett followed you right away.

His hips snapped against yours one last time before he stilled inside of you, filling you up with his hot cum, so much it almost spilled out the sides of your hot and aching pussy. 

Both your moans echoed off the walls, surely to be heard in the adjoining rooms. “Fuck,” Rhett grunted as he came down from his own high, lazily playing with your sweaty tits as he watched your fucked-out frame limply sitting on top of him.

Oh, how he ruined his little church girl…

[dracowars]

Hii! If requests are open could I get a professor!neville longbottom and professor!reader?shes the potions teacher and theyre "enemies"? Always at each others throats and interuppting classes just to throw snarky remarks and the students are like "omg not again🙄"? Anyway one night a student sees him leaving her room and rumors start abt how they're dating/fucking?? And after a few days of trying to deal with a school of nosy students they "talk it out" which ends up being a make out session in the potions room and they get caught by the students who are like "plz we just wna study😭"??

Thank youuu <3

greenhouse hearts and cauldron sparks | neville longbottom

pairing: professor!neville x professor!reader

word count: 3,4k

summary: where rumours are spread about neville and y/n having a thing

a/n: somehow this was difficult for me to write & i don't even know why, maybe because it's my first for neville and i don't know yet if i got his character right (especially since he is older here). i really tried my best and i hope you enjoy it <3 feedback in any form is much appreciated!

warnings: slight angst, cursing

universe: harry potter

With a set goal in mind and pure determination, you strut through the glass door of greenhouse three and are immediately eyed by more than twenty pairs of eyes, all curious but somehow not surprised. Some of them even look like they were only waiting for this to happen. Again.

"Professor Longbottom, forgive my interruption", you apologize with a smile that does not quite reach your eyes, making your way towards him. "But I need to talk to you. Urgently."

"Welcome, Professor Y/L/N", Neville greets you, not moving from his leaning position on the table, fully concentrated on the plant pot in front of him which seems to be housing a Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Suspiciously eyeing the dangerous plant, you take a small step back. Herbology has never been your favourite subject, not when you went to Hogwarts yourself, not now, not ever.

"You burst in at just the right time! We are about to harvest the first cabbages", he explains, strongly emphasizing you interrupting his class, his eyes still fixed on the pot.

"I actually don't really care right now. All I care about is the huge plant or whatever that monstrum even is that has spread over my desk in the teacher's room", you start whispering now, not wanting the students to hear your words. But since they all still stare at the both of you, their cabbages long forgotten, you bet they could hear you either way.

"Oh, I must have mixed up the tables", Neville simply shrugs but a small smile plays around his lips as he finally turns his head to look at you. You have looked into his eyes several times before, million times even, but it hits you differently every time. His green eyes stare at you for a second too long before he clears his throat and straightens, pulling out the cabbage and putting it into a big crate. Removing his gloves, he leans his hip against the table, his big frame towering over you as you still stand there.

"You did that on purpose", you whisper, more to yourself than to anyone, but the little chuckle that escapes his mouth confirms your assumption.

"I would never do such a thing", he replies, placing the gloves on the table behind him. Scoffing, you look at him in disbelief.

How come that Neville Longbottom, the slanky, shy and nervous boy who hid behind his robes and hair from your school days suddenly became such a cunning and especially handsome professor who tests your patience every day. And most importantly, why does he always look at you like that, as if his eyes want to tell you something more, something deeper. And why, for Merlin's sake, is your heart beating faster every single time you interact.

"It would be much appreciated if you could get rid of this monster as quickly as possible before it eats someone or whatever it is that it does", you repeat, but something about the way he looks at you right now tells you that that probably won't happen any time soon.

"Of course, of course. Once I've got- No! Put that down, Henry. Excuse me for a second, sweetheart", Neville interrupts himself all of a sudden, jumping into action as he quickly runs to said student who is about to get attacked by one of the vicious plants, the nickname he called you still ringing in your ear. On his way there, he runs against a table and knocks over some empty pots. If it weren't for you stopping them mid-air with a spell, they would have shattered into a thousand pieces.

He may not look like the Neville he used to be, but he has not lost his clumsiness. Shaking your head, your gaze follows him, watching as he rescues the student from his demise and you can't help but smile a little at that. He also never lost his genuine sincerity and willingness to help.

As you are waiting for him to return, you notice several of the girls staring at you, whispering to each other as they have certainly seen the way you looked after him. Clearing your throat in an awkward manner, you stand up straight and adjust your robes.

"Alright, well, that turned out differently than expected but wasn't that fun? Never underestimate nature", Neville speaks up now, all heads turning to him. "Please finish your protocols until next week, clean your tables and then you are free to leave for the day."

What initially looks like pure chaos ensuing turns out to actually follow a clear order as the students rush around and do what he says. In a few minutes, everything is back in its place and the students rush out of the greenhouse, ready for their break. On their way out, they also say goodbye to you.

The second the last student leaves, Neville claps his hands together, rubbing them as if he still has something planned. "You know, these things only ever happen when you are around", he teases you, walking back to where you are standing to put his bag on the table and gather his things.

"Well, I'm glad it wasn't me who got attacked by one of your experiments for once", you counter, having lost count of the times you had unpleasant encounters with his plants.

"That is just because they can sense your fear, sweetheart", he smiles while packing up his stuff, making sure everything is neatly placed inside his bag.

"I'm not scared of them", you scoff, ignoring what he called you and what it does to you once more, and you cross your arms in front of your chest as you lean your hip against the table he is still standing at. "They just make me feel uncomfortable and I don't like them. Your experiments certainly didn't make me like them any more, in case you forgot."

"How could I ever forget that", Neville laughs. He does not giggle or even try to hold back his amusement - he just straight up laughs at you as the memories find their way back to him. Huffing out an exasperated breath, you softly shove him to the side which only causes him to laugh even more.

"You are so annoying, do you know that? I can't believe I have to deal with this every day", you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. You would be bored to death without me", he smiles at you, genuine, and gently pushes his shoulder against yours, coming even closer. He looks at you, the way he always looks at you, and even though you would never admit it, he is right. It would be boring without him.

His eyes are locked with yours, at least until they drift down for a split second, looking at your lips, but it was so fast you are not even sure it actually happened. One of his hands now gently touches your arm and your insides twist.

Until the door to the greenhouse suddenly bursts open and a student comes in. Jumping in surprise, you both put as much distance between the two of you as possible in these few seconds, but the way she stops in the doorway as if she had just interrupted something speaks volumes.

"Uhm- I'm sorry, Professor. Professors. I-"

"Chloe, what are you doing here?", Neville asks her kindly, no signs of nervousness, but out of the corner of your eye you can indeed see how he plays with his fingers.

"I uhm.. forgot my book", she says awkwardly but makes no attempt to move, her gaze switching between the two of you.

"Right", Neville smiles at her, obviously trying to make it less uncomfortable. "Then go get it?"

At his words, she is seemingly brought back to life and quickly runs to one of the tables, grabs her book and rushes out of the greenhouse with lightning speed. Watching her leave, Neville's eyebrows furrow. "What was that about?"

Sighing, you lean back against the table, this time, however, with a lot of distance between your bodies.

"Dear Merlin, we will never hear the end of this now", you say, rubbing your fingers against your temple as you try to wrap your head around what just happened.

"Of what?", Neville asks, curious and seemingly oblivious.

"Of us having a thing."

"What?", he lets out in shock, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you are joking. Oh how much you wish you were.

"Yeah."

"Wh-What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you haven't heard about it", you answer, turning your body to directly look at him now.

"I honestly don't know what you are talking about."

"I can't believe this", you let out a humourless chuckle before continuing. "The students are talking about us, Neville. Have been all the time."

"And?"

"And they think we fuck", you blurt out and watch as the realization hits him.

"Oh", is all he says to that, his eyes unfocusing and his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

"Yeah. 'Oh'. And now we fueled the rumours even more, we have given them even more reason to believe them", you explain, trying your best to not sound too desperate.

When you first heard these rumours, you had to laugh. Neville and you? Never. But over time, you realized where these assumptions came from and you could actually see how someone could possibly come to this conclusion. But there is nothing between you. Right?

"But nothing happened", Neville agrees with your thoughts, looking at you with those beautiful eyes of his. A strand of hair has come loose and hangs over his forehead and you would like nothing more than to gently remove it from his face.

"No. It didn't", you whisper, supporting his statement even though you both know exactly what almost happened. Neville gives you a sympathetic smile before picking up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Anyway, I believe there is a plant I need to take care of", Neville digresses from the topic and even though you welcome not having to talk about this any longer, your heart feels a bit heavier than before. "Also, did you make the potion I asked you for?"

"Of course", you say as you follow him outside, noticing how his hand hovers over the small of your back as he leads you through the door.

════════════

"Professor?", one of your female students asks for you, sitting in front of her and her groups bubbling cauldron. Quickly, you get up from your seat at the front of the classroom and walk to her, smiling as you are thrilled to help with whatever is going on. You have been these students' Potions teacher since first year and now that they have reached seventh year, you have formed an even stronger bond with them.

"Yes? What can I help you with?", you ask once you reach them, leaning over them to take a look inside the cauldron which is exuding a sugary sweet scent. So far, they seem to have done everything right.

"Do you have a husband? Or kids?", she puts the question out there like it is nothing, the other girls at her table looking at you attentively.

"First of all, that is not a question you ask", you remind her and she only shrugs apologetically, making you feel like she actually does not feel sorry at all. "And to truthfully answer your question: No, I have not."

Apparently, your answer triggers something in them, because suddenly the whispering starts again and they look as if they can hardly sit still due to being incredibly excited about something.

"We asked Professor Longbottom the same question this morning", she continues now, suppressing a giggle. "And he gave us the same answer, so we thought that you two would make a good match."

"Oh girls, please", you sigh, trying to suppress a laugh at their endearing faces. "You definitely shouldn't worry about your teacher's relationship status and focus on your grades and upcoming exams instead."

"But Ms. Y/L/N! You would be so cute together!", they all gush, telling you about all the times they have seen you two, how they can clearly tell that 'there is something more going on'. You know you should tell them to continue their task but you just can't stop listening to them.

"When we asked Professor Longbottom, he told us that he thinks you are a wonderful colleague and also quite attractive", one of the girls chimes in, batting her eyelashes at you.

"He certainly did not say that", you retort, shaking your head with a smile at their determination.

"But he did!", they all say in unison, repeating to you all the words he supposedly said about you.

════════════

"Professor? Do you have a moment?"

"Of course. How can I help you?", Neville smiles at the group of girls in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. He has just finished his last lesson for the day and was on his way to the Great Hall for dinner now if it was not for these students catching him in the middle of a hallway.

"Remember how we asked you about Ms. Y/L/N this morning?", one of the girls says, a smile on her face that he can't quite pinpoint.

"I do", Neville answers, not adding that their conversation had followed him throughout the whole day.

"Well, we just had Potions with her and we asked her about you, too", another student says, a sign of pride in her voice. "Do you want to know what she said?"

"Do I have a choice?", he says, feeling a bit cornered by the four girls in front of him. He was set on eating and then going to his quarters in the Faculty Tower to get some well-deserved sleep. Apparently that was not happening any time soon.

"She told us that you are her favourite colleague and that she also finds you kind of handsome, even though she told us not to tell you."

At that, Neville needs a few seconds and swallows hard. He does not know what he should be more uncomfortable with: the fact that these students are interfering in his private life or the thought that you actually may have said those words. What are the chances that you did?

"That is..", Neville starts, no idea how to best solve this situation. "Certainly very nice of her to say. Thank you for telling me, but I'm afraid we must head to the Great Hall now as dinner will be served soon."

He does not even wait for them to answer and walks straight past them, a blush on his cheeks as their giggling follows him to the end of the hallway. He sighs, their words echoing through his mind as he turns another corner and suddenly bumps into someone.

With wide eyes, he realizes that the person he just almost pushed to the ground is none other than you. His hands are still tightly gripping your upper arms, a measure he took to prevent you from falling, as he stares at you.

"What is wrong with you?! You almost gave me a heart attack", you lecture him, your frozen body slowly coming back to life. Only now do you notice that Neville is still staring at you as if you weren't from this world and the pressure he is exerting on your arms is somehow getting stronger.

"Neville? Hello? Anyone there?", you ask slowly, snapping a finger in front of his face. That seems to bring him out of his trance because he blinks several times in a row and clears his throat awkwardly, letting go of you but not before smoothing down the sleeves of your cloak.

"Sorry", he mumbles, looking to the ground and grabbing the strap of his bag as if it were an anchor to help him from drowning.

"Are you alright?", you ask, a bit worried now at his unusual behaviour. When you hear several voices coming from the hallway, he suddenly takes your hand in his gently and maneuvers you both into the nearest empty classroom, closing the door silently.

"What is-"

"I didn't want them to see us together", he tells you before you can ask and your heart drops.

"Oh."

The sound comes out a lot more sad than you wanted and Neville notices it as well, shooting his head up to look at you. It does not take him long to realize what he said is the reason for it.

"N-No, no. That- That was not what I meant", he immediately starts explaining. "I just- These girls kept asking me questions about you the whole day and since our.. the situation this morning I thought it would be best to not fuel the rumours even more. Like you said."

Switching between his eyes, you don't even know what to say to that. Because you indeed do not want them to spread anymore rumours about you. On the other hand, you can't deny the emotions you feel, especially right now, with one of his hands still holding yours.

"Did you tell them that I'm a wonderful colleague and that I'm attractive?", you hear yourself ask. You have no idea where that came from all of a sudden but somehow you do not even feel sorry for asking. The girls love gossiping and spreading rumours, but a tiny part in your heart still hopes that they did not just make all of it up.

You just need to know.

"What? No", Neville immediately responds with so much vehemence that you take a step back. Again, he realizes a bit too late what he said and you feel your heart crack. You should have been prepared for this, you asked for this, and yet it painfully stings.

"I mean", he tries again, getting ahold of both of your hands now, making you look up at him. "I didn't say those exact words. I- Well, I think they just saw the way I looked at you and probably realized something sooner than I did."

"Neville, you really don't need to justify yourself", you say, not wanting to hear any more to protect yourself but also not moving to leave.

"I'm not, Y/N. What I would have liked to tell them is that you are the most wonderful person I have ever met. You are smart, sweet, sometimes snarky, loyal, helpful and have those little quirks that drive me crazy. The way you are engrossed in your notes and keep pushing the strand of hair out of your face and chew on your lower lip. And I love the way you interact with the students. You can tell how much they adore you and that they see you as their role model", Neville tells you with so much adoration and determination that you think you must be dreaming.

"I love the daily teasing, the banter whenever you get upset about my plants but then help me with the potions I need anyway. And yes, I think you are absolutely beautiful", he continues, mending the crack in your heart. "But I couldn't possibly tell the students all that."

Lowering his head after exposing himself like that to you, showing vulnerability, you are at a loss for words. He said all the things you always wanted to hear from him but never even dreamt about them ever becoming true. Your silence makes him nervous, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other and breathes in deeply.

"They would certainly have loved that", you giggle then, placing your fingers under his chin to make him look up at you. When your eyes meet, he can see yours sparkling and shimmering like they never did before. "And I love you."

With that, you pull him in for a kiss. Neville is too perplexed for a few seconds to do anything, but then he relaxes into the kiss, his hand finding its way to the back of your head to pull you even closer. You relish in the feeling, of how your lips work against each other, of how your hands are pressed to his chest between your bodies.

You forget where you are and what could happen if someone came in any second, but you simply do not care. And Neville does not either as he softly pushes you against the desk in front of the classroom, smiling into the kiss as he says: "Let's spread more rumours then."

[moth-bells]

Hi so, I dont know whenever I'm gonna be able to write or draw anything I like for my cryptids au, so I'm going to give you all literally all the lore and if I ever get to it, its already here.

It also doesnt always make perfect sense but I think that gives it charm and I'm not gonna run around in circles trying to make it perfect Gonna try and make this generally in timeline of events order

The earth is formed. From the dust of star dust rises two figures

They have no names and they were never born, forming from things they do not understand, yet know all too well

They are always at one another's side

They are both everything and nothing to one another

They witness eons together

Watching little specks shift and change and grow

They watch life and ease life along with hands that do what is needed without thought behind how it happens

They have purpose yet none here, witnesses

The duo watch as the earth fills with life only for it all to nearly vanish

They watch life persevere despite that

Those first peculiar humans, though without that name yet, come to be. So small and fragile, yet the two can see potential with these ones

They travel the globe, checking in on different places, seeing how the people so similar are slowly changing. They find it fascinating, though they feel this with other animals

One day, they realize many of these people that they've visited, perhaps assisted at times, and occasionally revisited, have places of worship

Neither of them understand, but they gather that these humans seem to look at them as higher than them. Gods.

Are they? They arent living in the same way as other beings. They cant die. They dont age and were never born.

If not gods, what are they then?

They dont know.

They do eventually move on, but one day, an unknown amount of years later, they return to one of these villages

The people, they do rejoice for their deities have graced them again

The duo decided to linger here longer than before.

One day, theres murmurs of malcontent floating

The two have witnessed battles, but stayed out of them.

They had never watched wars begin, the quiet wisps of smoke that would soon become flames

Now these two, unnatural as they are, were not infinitely strong.

Yes, they were stronger than many of these small humans, who were much smaller than them

But, if there were many humans against one of them, there was only so much that they could do

The humans, separated into factions, decided that one of the duo were a true god while the other was something evil and wrong.

Such is the way of humanity

The two realized they might have stayed too long now, deciding it was time to leave

It was too late for that now.

These two beings, nameless, named and renamed by many, but never calling each other by any.

Two who had been together since they were glints in an existence less universe

Were separated

Humans from either side took their 'rightful' god. Determined to use their worship against the other side.

The two beings were able to take some of them, desperately trying to not be taken away from the other.

They were not gods, though, not in the way these humans thought.

What they were was unknowable, but they still were not ever powerful.

With enough force, they were dragged away by the people who once looked at them equally

The one yellow as pollen was taken into a deep cavernous temple, locked into the darkness, with nothing within it. No escape. The entrance to this prison was sealed with a boulder.

He screamed for them to release him, but his words, something only his other understood, fell on deaf ears.

He pushed and clawed at the rock, but it was too heavy

These people believed their worship of isolation and fasting was pure and accepted by their god.

The other was left to a fate less horrendous, but equally lonely.

Tossed down into a pit, deep with only a manmade covering to hide it.

He as well demanded to be freed, but none of that was to come

These humans worshipped the sky at night that this being reminded them of, that being the only thing that he could see from his prison, though there was also a reminder in the daylight of who he was missing

The humans dropped food of animals down to him.

They werent able to starve to death, nor did they need to eat in the way animals and living things did, but it would give them extra energy if they needed it. No, they took in the rays of the star above them.

So, with the one in the pit, he received more that enough to keep him mobile.

The one in the cave, however...

centuries passed. Thousands and thousands of years

And they who have been here since before time itself, before knowing that of light and space and earth and death

They changed

Slowly, over time, of desperation and madness, and forces they themselves would never truly understand

They changed.

The cavern, where slowly less and less voices of prayer came, lost to a memory

Where eyes as blue as the sky became milky white

Where his mind grew blank with bleakness and its voice lost all form of words

Body became sharp and thin and twisted

Claws and teeth long and sharp.

In the pit, staring up at day and night as blood, and bodies of animal sacrifice fell upon him

One day, he accepted them, hoping for the strength needed to climb free

Eventually, it forgot why it was even down there.

And then the food stopped coming.

It had spent years and years, copying the shrieks and cries of a wounded animal, luring certain animals to the wide spaced grate above

It never felt hunger but it ached for the blood and rush that the meal provided

Its body became more wild, more dangerous

For some years its back ached until there was a weak flap of wings

Wings.

W i n g s.

Freedom.

The other was still trapped for sometime, having long forgotten what it was. What it was missing. Neither could remember but they could feel it

It would be sheer luck that some unfortunate children, merely teenagers, would come to that stone that their ancestors had made and laid there, not just a myth among them now.

That a god lay in the cave, dangerous and angry, locked away when it tried to turn against the people that worshiped it...or so they say the story goes

It would be their misfortune as they struggled to move the circular rock, that light from the evening setting sun would start to peek through inside

And something would come leaping out at them.

They fled from the monster, leaving one screaming to their fate to the creature so starved.

After, once its frenzy ended, it luckily took off into the forest surrounding it, away from the pain of the sun on its wide white eyes

It was fate, it would seem that they would find one another again

So changed by time and humanities unknowing cruelties

More animal than whatever they may have been to begin with

The winged one had found it one day, though not knowing fully why it was pulled toward it

The blind one, having changed even more in these years of freedom, lashed out at the new arrival

This, in turn, made the winged one defend itself.

They fought, clicking and screeching at one another until the teeth were dug into fur

Something clicked in this mindless mind that this thing was the same as itself.

They backed away from one another

Slowly, they reapproached...they chirred and cooed and inspected one another. One with sight the other with smell.

And they laid down together for the first time in forever

They wandered for some years, avoiding the creatures they felt compelled to hide from.

Until one day..

A small little voice spoke up at the blind one, not screaming or attacking with things that hurt

"Puppy..?"

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 4

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 8.1k

Content: none! there is no content lmaooo nah there is just none that needs to be warned for, I don't think, so enjoy freely!!!!!

A/N: I know, I know, it's taken an age but here we are!! And I'm honestly kind of nervous to see how people react!!!! huge thank you to my betas @blog-name-idk @amethystwritesbts and @here2bbtstrash

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

Chapter Four – Someone Old, Someone New 

The message came in shortly after lunch. 

Mei.97: hey girl! Long time no see!!! I’m going to be in Seoul this week, pleeeeaaasse tell me you’re free for dinner tomorrow?!!? It’s been too long!!! Xxx 

You had to read the message twice to be sure you were reading it right. You hadn’t heard from Mei—an old university friend—since your first ‘breakdown’. You wondered what on earth she could want. But you weren’t in any position to be turning down an outreached hand. 

You: sure! It would be great to see you! 

A few months ago, that would have been a huge lie. Now, it was only a little one. You weren’t looking forward to having to smooth over the details of your breakdown, or your break-up, but you had been close as students and it would be easier with her—she moved back to Busan after graduating, so you could put a little bit of the blame for your losing contact on that, too. You knew you weren’t quite there yet, but you felt like you were healing, you were making progress; you sometimes even felt, on occasion, pretty good about life. And you wanted to share that.  

The first thing you heard upon walking into the bar you had suggested was the loud screech of your name. Then Mei was running over. You had barely even noticed her before she was wrapping her long arms around you in a huge hug. Her hair was as long and silky as it had ever been; she was still wearing the same perfume she always used to wear, and too much of it, as she always had; she looked almost exactly the same, except a little richer, a little chicer, like someone who had truly settled into themselves. She outshone the whole restaurant and looked as if she didn’t notice, as she always used to. The real world didn’t seem to have dimmed any of her at all. You were pleased with yourself that this didn’t make you completely sick with envy. 

“Girl, oh my god, it is so good to see you! You look amazing! I can’t believe it; you’ve barely changed! Love the hair, though,” she announced to basically the whole bar. 

You’d forgotten that she was possibly the only person in the world who was louder and talked more than you did. You’d forgotten how much you liked her. You had no need to be nervous, you realised, because it would never occur to her to judge someone; she just wasn’t that sort of person because she wouldn’t even have the time for it. She was more than just a rolling stone: this rolling stone had an engine and jet fuel. 

“I ordered a bottle of wine because I wasn’t sure if you were still into the same drinks and I figured, wine is a safe option, right? You want some?” she asked but she was already pouring into your glass. “Tell me everything, babe. It has been so long. What is up?” 

You took a deep breath. Where to start? 

* 

You marvelled at how painless the night had been. It was fun. Somehow, despite all the discussion you’d had about your life since university, your life now, it wasn’t painful. Not really. Mei was single, too, and courting every man in Busan before her parents tightened the screws on her to settle down. She was enjoying working for the family business (if a corporation can be called merely a ‘business’). She was earning a salary that made you wince and made her promise dinner was on her. You were doing reasonably well in your career, too, actually. You were earning enough to live in Seoul on your own. Things weren’t perfect, but Mei was such a positive and enthusiastic steam-roller that she made you feel like you were thriving, not wilting. She was exactly what you needed.  

You were just wishing that she didn’t have to leave Seoul, that she could move and stay forever when she took her ice-cream spoon from her mouth and looked sheepishly at her empty bowl. 

“I have a confession to make,” she began. “I had a teeny ulterior motive for asking you to dinner.” 

Your stomach lurched. 

“Oh?” 

“You remember my cousin Sungbin? He came to visit that time at uni?” 

“The one we had to carry back to your room?” 

“You mean the one we had to find someone else to carry back to my room?” 

“Yes!” You laughed. “Yes, I remember! How could I forget?” 

He was a sweet, tall drink of water who accepted every shot and drink foisted on him by his cousin and her friends until he passed out in the bar. You and Mei had dragged him through the streets of Hongdae asking every passerby if they could help you get him home. You didn’t remember who actually helped or much of the rest of the night, but that arduous 100-meter drag was almost as painful as your hangover had been the following day. 

“What about him?” 

“Ok, so my uncle is retiring, right? He’s still going to be on the board but he’s retiring from his actual position so, of course, Sungbin, oldest son, he’s got to step up. He's moving to the big city, girl! Taking up a position at the HQ here. My ulterior motive is me asking you a huge favour.” 

“What’s the favour?” 

“He doesn’t know anyone here, right? Never lived here before. Would you maybe like, take him out for drinks or lunch or something – super casual, no big deal! – just so he’s got a friendly face? Give him some recommendations for stuff, I don’t know, just so he doesn’t feel overwhelmed and on his own?” 

You didn’t really know how to feel about it. Of course, you would. Of course, you would be happy to take Sungbin out, show him around, help him if he needed. You felt flattered that Mei would even ask you, that she thought you would be up to the job. That she thought of you at all, to be honest. Had you not just been thinking that you needed new friends? And now one was landing straight in your lap.  

It all felt a little too good to be true. It was too easy. Things had been too easy recently; this was just too much good, surely? You weren’t used to this. It felt wrong. Made you anxious. And, usually, that anxiety made you make things worse all on your own. But your therapist had told you to stop looking for the bad, to trust the good, appreciate its presence. You could do that. Right? You could do that. 

“Yeah, sure! Of course, I can take him out.” 

Mei dramatically fell to the table in relief and held tight to both your arms. 

“You are an angel! Thank you! Here’s the bad part, though: any chance you can do it tomorrow? I’m leaving in the morning and he’s going to be on his own for the first time since moving-” 

“Oh, he’s already here?” 

“Yeah! That’s why I’m here, girly! I helped him move! Any chance you’re free tomorrow?” 

You didn’t know how to say yes without letting her know that you were the sort of person who had no plans at the weekend but you didn’t want to say no because you were the sort of person who had no plans, and it would be nice to get out of the apartment. You did not look into the fact that she was asking you this last-minute, assuming you would have no plans already. You shrugged. 

“Yeah, I can do drinks or something tomorrow night?” 

“Babe, you are my favourite person in this whole world. I’m going to give you his number; just text him. He doesn’t know anyone here so he literally has nothing better to do and I’ve already told him I’d put you guys in touch.” 

From anyone else, that might have prickled a little; the assumptions might have rubbed you the wrong way, but Mei was relentlessly optimistic, having never had any real hardship in her life (she would admit to this, too), so she had never had any reason to believe that things wouldn’t go the way she expected. Far from wanting to burst her bubble, you wanted to protect her naivety. Because you wished you could have it, too.  

As you walked and subwayed and walked home, you thought about Mei and her life, and your life, and how different things could be. You wondered who you would be if you weren’t so broken, if your head could just have got its shit together—rather, if your head had never gone to shit in the first place. Would you have been like Mei? Would life have found another way to break you? Were things destined or was everyone, including the universe, just making things up as they went along?  

Could you ever be like Mei? Was anyone like her? Did she have secret pain?  

It wasn’t lost on you, the possibility that she wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as she seemed. The shock and surprise of everyone you knew when you ended up in hospital was almost the worst part. If you never heard someone say ‘I had no idea!’ again, it would be too soon. You thought about it a lot, how normal you were (or weren’t). You couldn’t believe that everyone else went through life not thinking the things you thought, that everyone else was somehow just able to get on with things without the sometimes-debilitating urge to sink into the floor forever. 

You shook your head, because you knew you weren’t supposed to be thinking like this. You’d had a really fun time with an old friend and you were going to have a really fun time tomorrow with a new friend. That was all. There was no need to ruin it by overthinking and second-guessing.  

You tapped a finger nervously on the bar as you sat on your stool. You used to come here a lot, or at least semi-frequently, but you hadn’t ventured into this part of the city since you moved out of the apartment you had shared with your ex. He got the apartment, so he got the neighbourhood, too.  

You couldn’t really miss it, not on its own, because your life had changed dramatically after the break-up: you moved somewhere else, lost most of your friends, and stopped going out. This was really the only ‘out’ that you knew. And, crucially, it was close enough to Sungbin to become his neighbourhood, too. So here you were, tapping at the bar, staring at the door, trying not to gulp your drink and be drunk before he even arrived.  

It was bright and hot and humid. It had rained solidly for three days and the water still hung in the air, clung to your skin, even as the sun tried its best to burn it away. You pressed your palm against your cold glass and tried to will yourself cooler without success. You already felt sticky with sweat and you didn’t know if that was entirely down to the weather, or if your nerves were also to blame.  

You knew you didn’t have to be so nervous. What was the worst that could happen? Taehyung had, very patiently, talked you through it: all possible outcomes, all likely scenarios, best- and worst-case situations; he had reminded you that you were an adult human being who knew how to speak to other people. You did. You did know. But it had been a very long time since you had been in this situation. It wasn’t a date. Obviously, it wasn’t a date, but it was the closest you had got to one for many years; you were meeting a man, in a bar, alone. You didn’t know each other; you were hoping he would like you.  

You took another gulp of your drink and repeated Taehyung’s words back to yourself. You reminded yourself of how good things were, ran through your gratitude list, tried to persuade yourself not to psych yourself out before the date (it was not a date! NOT. A. DATE.) had even begun. 

You had turned from the door, realising how awkward it might be for you to have to stare at each other as he walked towards you and were now just glancing over your shoulder every single time you heard the door open. To stop it being awkward. You had done well to pace yourself and it was as you lifted your glass to your lips for another sip that you heard someone call your name. You turned and came face to face with a man you knew could not be Sungbin. 

“Hi,” he said somewhat awkwardly as you continued to drink. “I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Mei’s cousin, Sungbin.” 

You gasped as you drank and it all came out in a choke and a splutter and you were blushing and fumbling to put your glass down, find a napkin, rewind time by ten seconds. The napkin came from his hand and you took your time drying your face and hands to try to will your blushes away. You were so embarrassed you could barely look at him.  

And there was so much of him to look at. This was not tiny, tall drink of water Sungbin from your university days. He was huge. He must have grown at least six inches taller, not to mention wider. His biceps were the size of thighs and his thighs were almost bursting out of his skinny jeans. You didn’t know where to look. 

“You can’t be Sungbin!” you cried. “You’ve got to be the guy that ate him!” 

He laughed and tugged at his hair a little self-consciously. 

“Yeah, I guess I’ve grown a bit.” 

“A bit!  You’re... You’re a hulk!”  

You were off your stool and gripping his bicep before he’d even finished the sentence—your fingertips didn’t even come close to touching. You were gawking, gaping, ogling this poor man without an attempt to hide it. You gestured broadly to his entire body with your other hand and only when you looked back up did you notice the blush on his face, the awkward way he averted his gaze. You stood back and gasped again, this time without choking. 

“I’m so sorry,” you told him. “Oh my god, that was so rude of me. I’m so sorry! What a dickhead! This is a terrible first impression for me to be making!” 

“Technically, not a first impression; we have met before.” He chuckled awkwardly. “And I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory then; I was, uh, a little worse for wear, I think.” 

“A little?! We were worse for wear; you were... the worst for wear! I’m amazed you survived.” 

“The joys of youth. Not sure I’d survive doing it now, just in case you had any ideas.” 

“Mei and I could barely get you home then, there is no way on God’s green earth I’d be able to carry you home by myself now! I wouldn’t risk it.” 

“So, we’re agreed then: both getting home in one piece?” 

You lifted your glass. 

“I’ll drink to that!”  

*  

You moved from one bar to the next, almost retracing steps you used to take in what felt like your former life. Sungbin paid great attention to where you were going and what else was around, cataloguing his new area, making notes for his new life. Your nerves were long gone, as were his, and you were enjoying a night out with a relative stranger as if you were a real person who did things like this: a real person who made new friends, who went out at the weekend, who had a proper life again. You had to pinch yourself to make sure this was all really happening, that this was all really going well. Your problems felt miles away, lightyears. You wondered if this is what it felt like to be normal. Whole. Fixed. You made a mental note to tell your therapist. 

You were on a roof terrace, carpeted with fake grass, decorated with fake flowers. Everything was clean and bright and the sun was still high in the summer sky. It was still a little too warm and a little too sticky, your glasses sweating as well as your bodies, but the lightest of breezes lifted the ends of your hair every now and then, and you couldn’t have imagined a more comfortable feeling than the soft rush of wind across your hot skin. You took seats under a white, wooden pergola where the sunlight was dappled through the fronds twisted along the frame.  

This heat usually enervated you, made you lethargic and sloth-like. That night, though, sitting under fake foliage, you felt solar-powered. There was a summer spring in your step. You felt, dare you believe it, like you were glowing. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. A brand new thing. A better thing. Being here, an old place, with Sungbin, a new friend, could have felt awkward, uncomfortable, like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole—you had expected it to—but no. You felt bigger and brighter, not smaller and duller. You were conscious of the possibility of your old life encroaching on your new one, the possibility of running into someone you used to know, but you decided to push those thoughts away. Compartmentalise them. Ignore them. You didn’t need them.  

Sungbin was talking about his ex. It was an awkward break-up; they’d not been together long enough for her to move to Seoul with him, or for him to even ask her to, but it had been long enough that it felt significant, felt like throwing something away when they ended things. But he was young and he wasn’t worried. You didn’t say it out loud but you thought to yourself that a man like him surely would never have to worry: looking like he did, having the position he had, being a sweet, polite kind of guy; women would be queueing up for even a chance with him.  

“I don’t really miss her that much, because there’s so much going on here that I haven’t really even had the time to. That, if nothing else, tells me it was the right decision for us.” 

The words reached your ears but didn’t go in. You could feel your heart pounding hard in your chest and sweat begin to prick in your palms. Your eyes had flicked over the crowd in front of you, people walking in and out, to and from the bar, looking for tables, looking for friends. They had skimmed over the faces of strangers until they hit upon someone familiar. The face had immediately disappeared back into the crowd, but you were sure it was him. It had to be. Why else would your whole body have gone into panic mode? Why else would your legs be like jelly? Why else would your fingers feel numb? A quiet ringing grew louder in your ears and you kept looking for him again, waiting for that dark head above a white shirt to break through the crowd again. You had to be sure it was him. 

“Are you ok?” 

You wanted to stand. You had to stand and get a better view. You wished it weren’t so busy. Why did it have to be a Saturday night? Why were all these people out?  

“Are you ok?” 

A touch on your arm drew you back and your head span to Sungbin. He looked confused, concerned. 

“I think I saw my ex,” you told him, your voice hoarse.  

“Ah. A bad break-up?” 

Your eyes had already gone back to the crowd, scanning and searching.  

FUCK. 

It was him. It really was him. It had to be. It couldn’t be.  

“Yeah, no, I don’t know,” you answered vaguely. 

You were still staring at him and then his eyes flicked to yours and you flinched so hard you almost knocked over your glass. You turned away, turned back; he looked as surprised as you were. He looked unsure. He looked like he was walking over to you. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” you said under your breath, looking at the table, trying to work out how on earth you were going to handle this. You wondered, if you thought hard enough, if you would be able to make yourself disappear. You wondered if you could just run: leg it out of the bar as fast as you could and not look back. You felt dizzy. You felt sick. You felt... drunk. Too drunk. Of all the places and all the times you might have imagined seeing him again, this wasn’t one. This would probably be the very last place you’d have chosen to run into him.  

Sungbin’s hand was back on your arm, less tentative now. He scooted his chair closer to yours. His hand slid down your wrist and he tangled his fingers in yours. You could only look at him; you didn’t have the mental capacity to even form the question in your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” came his reply. “I got you.”  

Then he winked.  

“Hi.” 

You looked up and there he was. San. Just as he always had been. Maybe his hair was a little shorter, you could kid yourself there was an extra line or two on his face. But it was him, no denying. 

“Hi,” you squeaked back. 

You were trying to think of all the things you wanted to say to him, trying to think of all the things you could say to him, that would be appropriate to say to him here, in this bar, whilst holding the hand of another man. 

“Hi, I’m Sungbin.”  

He was confident. He stuck out his free hand and gave San a generous smile. 

“Oh, uh, San.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, too.” San turned his face back to you. “How have you been?” 

You looked at Sungbin for help: this relative stranger, this potential new friend pretending to be your new boyfriend in front of your old boyfriend, this man who seemed to have much better control of this situation than you did. You could barely think at all. It was a desperate ringing, alarm bells, sirens wailing, a maelstrom of panic. Sungbin smiled at you. You had no idea how long you looked at him before answering, had no sense of time anymore. 

“Yeah, fine,” you said, eventually tearing your gaze from Sungbin to stare into San and the sun behind him. Sungbin gave your hand a squeeze. “Good, actually. You?” 

“Yeah, same old same old, you know how things are. Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“Oh, that’s my fault.” Sungbin stepping in to save you again. “I live in the area so I’m always dragging her over this way.”  

You stammered for a second, trying to take in San’s surprise and Sungbin’s sweet, encouraging smile. 

“Y-yeah, he does,” you confirmed. “I don’t- I don’t mind, though, really.” 

“Mm, you always liked this bar. I remember.”  

“Yeah.” 

You noticed the way San’s eyes flicked to your hands, clasped together on the table, not just once but again and again. You wished you could peer inside his head, know what he was thinking.  

You were hardly thinking at all. Your brain was trying so hard to be quick that it had overloaded itself, stalled, got stuck. You couldn’t get over the fact of him, there, in front of you. It had been months. Seasons had changed since you saw him last. You had changed. Could he see that? Did you want him to? Did you want him to miss you? Did you want him to be bothered by Sungbin—gentle giant, Sungbin, holding your hand so casually, talking about you as if you really were together? You tried not to imagine what San was doing there, who he was with. You didn’t know if you would care. You wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was dating. He was a catch, you knew that.  

There were too many things happening at once, too many things to process. You felt like you were spinning out of control. What if San knew Sungbin wasn’t your boyfriend? What if he knew this was all pretend? What if he asked more about it? What if everything unravelled before your very eyes and the ground didn’t show mercy and swallow you whole? 

“Are you still living around here?” San asked you. “I would’ve expected to see you around more.” 

“Oh, uh, no. I’m over the river. I just-…"  

You couldn’t commit yourself to the lie, had to let yourself trail off just looking at Sungbin, desperate for a sign you were doing ok, you were playing this the right way. He grinned at you. 

“Like I said, my fault.”  

He shrugged with a light chuckle and San faintly followed suit, mouth moving but no sound actually coming out. 

“Right, well,” he began in the tell-tale way that said he was backing out of this conversation. “I’d better get back to my table. It was uh, nice meeting you, Sungbin. Good to see you, too-” his eyes rested on you, needled into you like he was searching for something specific in your face. “I’m glad you’re doing well.” 

“Yeah, me too. I mean, me for you, you know what I mean.” 

A genuine smile. And a nod. Then he was retreating back into the sea of people, disappearing and leaving no trace. No trace but the hammering of your heart. No trace but the sweat pooling in your palms and sticking your dress to your back. No trace but the sudden exhaustion of the relief you felt being out of his presence. Sungbin squeezed your hand again. 

“Bad break-up?” 

You rested your forehead on the fingers of your free hand and shook your head. 

“It was for me. It was the right decision but yeah, it was bad for me. I haven’t... I haven’t seen him since I moved the last of my shit out from our apartment – what used to be our apartment.” 

Sungbin nodded knowingly and placed his hand on top of yours just for a second. Then he let you go completely. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I realise I didn’t really give you a chance to disagree; I’m sorry about that. I-” 

You shook your head and waved your hand.  

“It’s absolutely fine,” you reassured him. “It was good, actually.”  

You were deeply grateful for his quick-thinking, presumptuous though it may have been. You wanted to splash your face with cold water, give yourself a shock, try to bring yourself back into the room. You didn’t want to look like you were still completely hung up on your ex; you didn’t want to look like a mess; you just needed a second to take a breath. 

“That was... not expected,” you went on, more for your benefit than for his. “I have thought so many times about what I would say and what I would do if I saw him again but I guess I never really believed it would happen and then suddenly, he was fucking right in front of me and I just felt like dying!” 

Sungbin laughed, as you knew he would, because it was a joke. It was a joke. But you didn’t not feel like dying for at least a second there.  

“When did you break up?” 

“Oh, months ago now. Kind of feels like I should be over it, I guess. I mean, I am, really. I just-...” 

“You were caught off-guard. I get it; it’s rough seeing them again.”  

It was rough. And you believed that he did get it. And he smiled at you so sincerely that you could have cried. It surprised you, that people could be nice to you; that people could like you, even; that people could see you and still smile at you. You looked at each other a little longer, Sungbin’s quiet calm radiating through you, your heartrate slowing and your spinning head coming to a stop. 

“Thank you,” you said as you picked up your glass to take a sip to cover awkwardness that only you felt. “That was quick thinking and um, yeah, I think it helped. You didn’t have to do that.” 

Sungbin shrugged.  

“You’re doing me a big favour tonight; it was the least I could do. Happy to be your fake boyfriend whenever you need!”  

He laughed and then you laughed and it felt good. You drained the last of your drink and Sungbin suggested you go somewhere else for your next one. You agreed. You didn’t look for San on your way out, just kept your eyes on Sungbin’s back as he led you, your hand in his (just in case), back through the bar and out onto the street. 

* 

“You don’t have to literally walk me to my door,” Sungbin said as you stepped into the lift with him. “I maintain that it should be me walking you home.” 

You shrugged. 

“That argument might hold water if you had even half a clue of how to get to my apartment. But you don’t. Besides, I was taking you out tonight; it only follows that I walk you back, too. Why break tradition?” 

Sungbin bit back a grin. 

“How long before I live that down?” 

“Oh, at least five more years.” 

“Well, if you’re going to make me suffer that, don’t you think we should do this correctly? Now, how did it go again?” 

He moved behind you and draped himself over your shoulders, slowly leaning his weight onto you. You cried out and could do nothing but collapse underneath him. 

“NO! I couldn’t carry you then; now you’re just trying to kill me!” 

You knelt on the floor of the lift with your hands outstretched above you, as if they would in any way hold him off. He straightened and pulled you up by them. 

“Fine,” he conceded as he stepped out at his floor. “But next time, you’re going to have to let me walk you home. Deal?” 

You shrugged. You nodded. You didn’t take that as a promise.  

“About your ex,” Sungbin started, standing in front of his door. 

“Yeah?” 

“Where exactly are you at with that?” 

That had you on the backfoot. You didn’t know how to answer the question for yourself, let alone for him. Your first thought was that you probably would have to ask your therapist; did she think you were over it? Would she think you had closure? You blinked and opened your mouth as if somehow an answer would fall out of it without your having to compile it first.  

“I just mean,” he continued, “are you dating? Would it be alright if I asked you out?” 

“Oh, uh, I-”  

Would it be alright? Wouldn’t it be? You had told yourself you were off dating. You weren’t ready for it; you had been emphatic when you’d said as much to Yoongi only a few weeks ago. Was that still true? You had spent so much time that day reminding yourself that this wasn’t a date, but... what if it had been? San aside, it had gone well, hadn’t it? You had had fun; Sungbin seemed like he had, too. He was the one who pretended to be your boyfriend first. Maybe... Maybe it would be ok? Maybe you were ready? There was only one way to really find out.  

“Yeah, I guess that would be fine.” 

He smiled. 

“Good. I’ll do that then.”  

He took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles; everything inside you fluttered. Then he winked and dropped your hand to enter his door code. 

“Text me when you get home safe, yeah?”  

You nodded, mute. He smiled at you again. 

“It was really nice to see you again.” And when he said your name, it sounded new.  

You didn’t leave immediately. Couldn’t. You stood outside his apartment, in shock, processing, looking at his closed front door, to the left, to the right, looking for an answer to what just happened. Sungbin did not just ask you out. But he did say he would. He was going to ask you out.  

And you had already kind of said yes.  

To a date. 

You fumbled in your bag for your phone and had it to your ear before you realised you absolutely had to leave, lest Sungbin hear you speaking. You scuttled back down the hallway and into the lift while Taehyung’s phone rang and rang and eventually went to voicemail. You hung up and tried again. And then again. And then you sent him a text. 

You: TEDDY!!! PICK UPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

You tried calling for a fourth time and for a fourth time, you heard the automated voice of his voicemail service.  

You threw your phone back into your bag, defeated, but jittery with nerves and adrenaline. You could barely remember how this felt. In fact, with San you had seen it coming. You had engineered it. You had been flirting for weeks; you practically demanded he ask you out. Then he did. This had come out of the blue. Blindsided you. For the second time that evening. You were so shocked by Sungbin’s question that you had, momentarily, forgotten about running into San.  

What a fucking night. One that you had almost no idea how or where to start processing. Everything was-… you threw your hands in the air, by yourself, in the lift, shaking your head, completely bewildered. Taehyung was your go-to person for this. He was your sounding board. You picked up your phone to call him just one more time.  

* 

Your phone rang as you were changing into your pyjamas and you picked it up with your vest only half pulled down over your chest. 

“Teddy! Finally!” 

“Are you dying?” 

“No.” 

“Are you hurt or injured or maimed in any way?” 

“No.” 

“Then stop calling!” 

“Hey! I need to talk to you!” 

“Well, it’s going to have to wait, princess; I’m busy.” 

“Not even for five minutes?” 

“No.” 

“But I saw San!” 

There was a pause as Taehyung digested the information. 

“Are you ok?” he asked simply. 

“Yeah.” 

“Then it’s going to have to wait until tomorrow.” 

You heard a rustling in the background, another voice. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, turning your voice down to a loud stage whisper. “Are you with someone?” 

“... Yes.” 

“OH MY GOD! Oh my god, please tell me it’s the barista. Is it the barista? It is, right?!” 

“... Yes.” 

You squealed and fell onto your sofa to kick your feet in the air. 

“WE HAVE SO MUCH TO TALK ABOUT!” you screamed down the phone. 

“Yes, but tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, fine, tomorrow. Oh my god. I am SO excited, Teddybear.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll talk to you later. I’m going now.” 

“Bye, Teddy!” 

“Good night, babe; love you.” 

“Love you!” 

It was entirely possible that you weren’t going to be able to sleep at all now.  

You squealed as you opened your door and let Taehyung into your apartment. He handed over an ice-cold, sweating cup of coffee and flopped onto your sofa.  

“Tell me literally everything,” you demanded. 

He merely shrugged. 

“Don’t be fucking coy, you piece of shit! I want to know everything! It’s THE BARISTA.” 

The barista worked at a coffee shop not far from Taehyung’s apartment. The barista was a fine, delicate-boned, ethereal beauty, probably the prettiest person you had ever seen in real life. Even Taehyung—unflappable, cool, calm and collected Taehyung—had been flustered the first time the barista had flashed him his pearly whites. And, last night, something had finally happened between them.  

“There’s really not that much to tell,” Taehyung countered. “I asked him out and he said yes.” 

You hit him hard with a cushion. 

“I said I want to know everything! And you can’t just say it like it was that simple; you’ve been daydreaming about that guy for months!” 

“Firstly, I was sussing out his situation. I understand tact and diplomacy and how to not say every stupid thing that’s in my head at any given moment-” 

“Uncalled for, but go on.” 

“-So I had to bide my time.-” 

“Also, you’re a massive chicken and he made you go knock-kneed and goo-goo-eyed.” 

“-Do you want me to tell you what happened? Or would you prefer to just make up your own version?” 

You cackled. 

“You know I’d love to make up my own story, but no, sorry, I’ll stop interrup-” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, babygir-” 

“Ok, now who’s interrupting?!” 

“I’m the one trying to tell you a story!” 

“Ok! Ok! Fine, spin your yarn and give me the entire confection, please.” 

* 

“I’m seeing him again tonight. Truth be told, I’d be with him right now if someone hadn’t already laid claim to my time.” 

“Teddy!”  

You felt bad for tearing him away from his One True Love, you did. But he’d already seen his success with the barista (Hyunjin to those in the know) and could go running right back to him as soon as he was done here. All you had was a too-warm apartment to stew in until whatever hour or day Sungbin would choose to actually, officially do the asking.  

“Come on, then,” Taehyung said, with a shrug, and nudged you with his foot. “How the fuck did you see San again?” 

Shit, that too.  

“Right, well, you know I was out with Sungbin last night—and, by the way, do NOT let me forget to show you his instagram. Oh my god. There are no words. And there’s also something else I need to tell you about him after this. But, yes, San, ok.” 

It felt like trying to describe a blur. You still didn’t know how you felt about it. The whole night felt surreal to you now, like a dream. It was frustrating to have met him but not really met him, to have seen him and not been able to talk. Everything that you had been working through—trying to work through—felt bundled up inside you and you wanted him to know. You didn’t need him to think you were dating again, you didn’t need to ‘win’; you needed him to know that you understood. That maybe there would always be some kind of thing between you—history, old intimacies like ink stains in your skin—but it didn’t mean that that past would hold you back forever. You wanted him to see that you understood that. 

But you came to those conclusions this morning, after a deep sleep, after another man had made implicit promises to ask you out. And, once he’d actually asked you, would anything you had to say to San matter anymore? Did it really matter now?  

“I don’t know how I feel about it because... I had this blind panic, y’know? But I don’t know why I panicked because San is a good person and I understand why he broke up with me and I don’t blame him for that and there really shouldn’t have been any reason for it to be awkward, right?” 

“I mean, another man pretending to be your boyfriend might make it a little awkward.” 

“Maybe... But that’s not Sungbin’s fault; he was trying to help. I thought I’d be cool seeing him again, because I’ve thought so much about things I want to say to him or would say if I could, but when he was actually in front of me, it was like I couldn’t think at all. I don’t know what that means.” 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. You were surprised.” 

“Yeah, but shouldn’t I be over him? Should he have that effect on me even now?” 

“I don’t think ‘should’ is a helpful word here, sugarplum. There is no should or shouldn’t about feelings; isn’t that therapy 101?” 

“I just don’t know... I guess I thought that seeing him again would make everything crystal clear, written in stone. Sure. But... Well—ok, the other thing is that Sungbin kind of asked me out.” 

“On a date?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What did you say?” 

“Well, he asked me if it would be alright if he asked me out. And I said yes. So he said he would. But he hasn’t actually asked me yet.” 

“And you want to know if you should go out with him or not?” 

“I guess?”  

You shrugged. You wanted to go out with Sungbin. You knew you wanted to because you could picture his smiling face and bulging biceps and you saw clearly, outside of the moment, how quickly and easily he stepped in to support you, no questions asked and no favours owed. He wanted to date you. You knew you wanted to date him. But- 

“I don’t want it to be a mistake,” you said.  

“That’s natural. No one likes making mistakes.” 

“No, I mean, I don’t want it to be a mistake for Sungbin.” 

“Why would it be?” 

You looked at him, trying to say, without saying, what you meant. Because it had been for San—you had been. He was better off without you and maybe Sungbin would be, too. He was young and rich and free; he had just moved to the biggest city in the country; he had the world at his feet. Were you really going to let him limit himself, stop himself at your door?  

Taehyung looked cross for a moment, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn, then he took a sip of his coffee (mostly iced water at this point) and, when he turned back to you, his gaze was softer.  

“Baby,” he cooed and he held his arms out to you. Despite the heat in your poorly air-conditioned apartment, you climbed into his lap and let him stroke your hair. “There’s only one way to know for sure if something’s a mistake and that’s to do it. Sungbin clearly wants to. If you also want to, then you’re just going to have to dive in. The water’s great.” 

You nodded and let him hold you, so grateful to him and all his tact and diplomacy and gentleness. He wasn’t always—or often—gentle with you, because usually that’s not what you needed and he knew it. Just like he knew that today, that was what you needed. 

“I do have one question, though,” he said and his hesitance made your stomach drop. 

“Ok.” 

“Where does Yoongi fit in with all of this?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I don’t know; I thought you guys were-” 

“-Friends! Just friends! Have I not said it a million times?! We’re just friends! We’ve always just been friends!” 

“But you did have sex-” 

“ONE TIME!” 

You pushed away from him to better display your indignation and displeasure. Taehyung had a bee in his bonnet about Yoongi—had done since you’d first mentioned him—even though he didn’t know the guy, didn’t know anything. 

“Ok, ok!” He held his hands up in defeat. “I just sort of figured you guys were heading in that direction.” 

“Why?” 

“You seem to like him a lot.” 

“I do. Because we’re friends. I like you a lot, too, and we’re not going to shack up.” 

“Yes, love, but I’m gay and you are not a man.” 

You pushed him. 

“You know what I mean!” 

“I take your point. If you want to date Sungbin and feel good about it, then you have my blessing-” 

“I don’t need your blessing, Teddy; I can do what I like!” 

He fixed his eyes on you and simply waited you out. 

“Ok, fine!” you cried, exasperated, after probably not more than five seconds. “Thank you, yes, I did want your approval.” 

“And you have it, my sweet. As long as you’re happy and not being a complete idiot, I’m on board.” 

“I mean... Thanks, I guess?” 

"Don’t mention it.” 

“Babe!” you cried as soon as Yoongi step foot inside the classroom the following Thursday. You beckoned him closer, telling him to hurry, and grabbed him by the arm as soon as he was within reach. “I have so much to tell you.” 

He looked surprised, blinked, and then shrugged with a slight nod of his head. You didn’t pause for thought as you unloaded both your bags and your gossip onto the counter. You were sieving flour as you told him about your dinner with Mei; beating eggs into the mixture when you told him about drinks with Sungbin; and watching Yoongi almost drop the entire thing as he placed it in the oven when you mentioned San. 

“What was that like?” he asked with genuine, but guarded, curiosity.  

“A blur. Kind of a panicked mess but also fine. I sort of want a do-over but mostly for my pride, y’know? It was bumping into an ex, not actually meeting up with them so I think that made it better. But also worse because I had no time to prepare but there was also no opportunity to get into the difficult stuff which meant we didn’t have to get into it.” 

“Do you still want to do that? Talk to him?” 

“There’s a lot I want to say to him, but they are things I want to say more than things I think he would need or want to hear. If we met, it would be for my benefit and I don’t know if he deserves to be pulled in for that. Do you know what I mean?” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded.  

“And that was before Sungbin asked me out, too, so maybe I would be saying something different if that hadn’t happened.” 

“He asked you out?” 

Yoongi was turning towards his counter, looking at his sugar in his pan, turning on the hob, his head inclined just slightly towards you to indicate that he was listening. He needlessly pushed a hand through his hair which, far from tucking it behind his ear, made it fall in front of his face. You were, likewise, distracted by your sugar syrup and altogether too excited to take note of much else. 

“Yes!” you cried in answer. “So, on the Saturday he asked if he could and, obviously, I said yes. Then it took him until Wednesday to actually do the damn thing, but yes, he asked me out and I said yes and we’re going out tomorrow for our first actual date.” 

“Wow.” 

“I know, right? I had no idea it was coming—the bit where he asked if he could ask me out, I mean. We ran into my ex at drinks! And he asked me out?! And I was... I was discombobulated, you might say; I stood at his door for five minutes just in shock at what had happened. I was in disbelief. Especially because I wasn’t expecting it! At all. I mean, I was just doing Mei a favour! I didn’t think anything of it and now I can’t stop thinking about it! Or, well, him. I had forgotten how exciting this part is? It’s terrifying, yeah, completely horrifying, really, but I also just feel like I’m alive, y’know?” 

You paused briefly, glancing at the oven timer and stirring your syrup.  

“I just...” you started and then stopped, staring off into space to let the thought coalesce in your brain. “It’s so crazy that you can think one thing and then someone comes into your life and, suddenly, everything is so different. All it takes is one person to—ok, this is dramatic but you know me now so you’re going to have to let me be—change your whole life. A chance encounter? And suddenly I’m not the world’s loneliest, bitterest, most miserable single person alive? Suddenly, I have something to be excited about? To look forward to? I’m getting ahead of myself, I know I am, but I’m allowing it. I’m allowed to indulge in this because it’s been so long. I’ve been miserable for ages now. And I’m finally not. Don’t get me wrong when I say this, because therapy works, or at least it helps, it really does, but man, having a crush on someone is fucking electric, right? Years of counselling and it turns out nothing makes you feel the joy of being alive like when you really fucking like someone.” 

Yoongi hummed. 

Chapter Three | Masterlist | Chapter Five

[gaily-daily-musings]

There's a man on the steps of his sanctum. He's been knocking for a while now and doesn't seem to be leaving. Stephen Strange frowns. He senses no extraordinary energy from this man. His clothes are plain and simple. The man is the exact sort of unassuming person you would expect to be a trap of some sort. 

“Doctor Strange!” The rapping comes again. There was an underlying sort of pleading, just west of desperation. This, if nothing else, made sense. One did not come to the Sanctum Sanctorum without cause. 

It is about thirty minutes after the man arrives that Stephen finally decides to let him in. Hopefully he didn't do too much damage. He opens the door and steps aside, inviting him in. The man does not look around in awe or wonder the way any other person would when visiting the sanctum for the first time. Instead the man locks eyes with Strange and holds his gaze. 

“My name is Mobius,” the man begins. “Thank you for seeing me. I know you're a busy–”

“Why are you here?” For half an hour Stephen had tried and failed to sense anything about the man. For all intents and purposes Mobius appeared normal both inside and out. Yet still something whispers in the air around him. 

"I want to get to the end of time."

He says it so seriously that Stephen gives a little laugh. “Can't help you I'm afraid.”

But Mobius shakes his head. “It's important. I need to talk to the God of Stories!”

It's this that stops him in his tracks. “The God of Stories?” The one who held the universe together? It was an old folk tale. A nursery rhyme. It wasn't real. Neither was the end of time for that matter. 

Mobius must see the doubt on his face for he continues. “He's real and I'm going to find him.”

It's the sheer determination in his gaze that makes Stephen pause. It was the same sort of determination he'd shown the Ancient One when he demanded she teach him how to use magic. He gives Mobius one last once over. The man had resolve he gave him that, but he was clearly also delusional. Ever since the world discovered aliens and magic were real they'd started to believe anything. Conspiracy theories had gotten more crazy with every year. 

“As I said before, I can't help you. I don't have time to chase down fairy tales.”

Mobius frowns, his stare burning in disappointment. “You're the Sorcerer Supreme. I should think you'd give a little more credence to fairy tales.”

Stephen clicks his tongue. “Be that as it may, you should probably run along now.”

He's entertained Mobius as long as he could. But he had an academy to look after; real people with real problems. 

Mobius gestures to his necklace where the Time Stone used to sit aside the Eye of Agamotto. "Why do you think it's green? Or was, I mean. The Time Stone?"

Stephen raises a brow. What an odd question. "Sometimes magicks take on a certain color. There isn't really a reason why. It just is.”

Mobius smiles gently, like Stephen is the one who doesn't understand anything. "The flow of time is why there is life. Without it we cannot exist. The branches of Yggdrasil are always producing more as the universe multiplies and expands. Time is life. Therefore it is green."

Stephen is silent a moment. It's a pretty sentimentality. But a sentimentality nonetheless. 

“It's alright. I won't bother you anymore, Doctor.” Mobius opens the door and steps out. “Thank you for your time.”

Stephen watches him climb down the front steps. He stands by the doorway, lingering. He's not quite sure what makes him pause. Mobius certainly wasn't the strangest character he's ever met. New York was full of odd people. 

He's about to close the door when he hears a loud screeching. Stephen looks back quickly. Mobius has stepped off the curb and is standing in front of a car headed right for him. Stephen opens his mouth to call out but its too late. Mobius moves, bracing for impact. He closes his eyes and covers his face. 

That's when Stephen sees it. A light flares up and surrounds him, wrapping Mobius up in a protective green layer. The car stops in its tracks as it crashes into the light.

After a moment, Mobius uncovers his head, realizing the danger had passed. He looks up and sees the dented car. He blinks in bewilderment. He then looks down at his undamaged body. He tests his chest and legs as if to make sure he was alright. Then he scratches his head. 

“Mobius!” Stephen appears beside him. Mobius jumps back. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That magic!”

“What magic?”

He truly had no idea did he? Stephen grabs Mobius by the arm and ushers him back inside. The car driver and bystanders all stare after them. 

“Whoah hey! Easy!” 

Stephen closes the door and whirls around to face Mobius. Without a word he throws up his hands and conjures an energy blast. Shocked, Mobius flinches back. Stephen unleashes the attack. It races towards Mobius as the man once again braces himself. And once again, just as it had before, the green light appears. 

This time it lingered. Long enough for Mobius to open his eyes and catch sight of it. Mobius stares in disbelief. He reaches out as if to touch it, but it dispels before he can. 

Stephen studies the green light as it swirls around and disappears. Mobius wasn't the one controlling it and yet it leapt to his aid. 

“It's a protection spell.” Stephen explains softly. That in of itself was curious enough. But what gives him caution is the signature of the magic itself. Stephen recognized that magic. He had seen it before. 

Loki. 

Mobius waves his hand in the air as if to summon it back. But the air remains stale. Of what significance was this man that Loki Laufeyson had cast such powerful spell? 

Stephen eyes Mobius again. He had missed something. “Who are you?” He asks again. 

Mobius turns to look at him. He offers a shrug. “Just a guy trying to find his friend.”

“And your friend, does he happen to be the Norse God of Mischief Loki?” 

Mobius smiles, his eyes sparkle with  mischief of their own. “The very one.”

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.18

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

---------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 18 - Draining Encounters

No—this couldn't be true. Sukuna did not just walk in right at this moment.

Shit.

Desperately, you tried to use the fresh set of clothes as an additional shield, but juggling between them and the towel was a clumsy affair. It nearly resulted in you dropping the tiny towel and exposing yourself completely.

Sukuna's eyes followed you around, his smirk growing wider as he watched your frantic attempt to preserve your modesty. His stance was relaxed, a satisfied observer to your embarrassing predicament, clearly in no rush to offer any assistance.

At this point, the front of your body was mostly covered, but your back remained fully exposed. Turning around and retreating to the bathroom was out of the question; the thought of him seeing your bare back and butt made your skin crawl.

Only one option remained, though you despised it with every fiber of your being; you'd have to plead.

"Shit, I—I forgot my change of clothes, so that’s why—" you stammered, the words barely escaping as you tried to salvage the situation. "Could you please just close your eyes for ten seconds, please?"

A low chuckle escaped Sukuna's lips at your plea. "You want me to close my eyes?" he repeated with a mocking tone. "How bold of you to give orders to the King of Curses."

He leaned against the doorframe, clearly unwilling to agree to your request. "I refuse."

"It's far too entertaining watching you squirm like a cornered animal." His eyes sought yours all the while, relishing the challenge. This was a game to him, and to you, it was a harsh reminder of the power dynamic that was ever in his favor.

One thing was for sure; Sukuna was intent on playing this game.

If he wanted to play, so be it. You steadied yourself as you quickly assessed your options. Maybe you could simply back away, keeping your front to him. You had a good sense of direction; you could probably navigate to the bathroom door without turning around.

You slowly rose from your crouched position, the tiny towel and bundle of clothes clutched against you. With care, you began to inch backward, placing one foot cautiously behind the other, determined not to give Sukuna the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

Sukuna stood still, his arms crossed, the smirk on his face ever-present. You were relieved that he didn't seem to be making any sudden moves, at the very least.

You had made it about halfway to the bathroom, judging by the distance in front of you, when Sukuna's voice cut through the silence.

"Do you really think that's wise, brat?" he taunted, his mocking warning slicing through the tension. "You might trip and fall, give me an even better view."

You fixed Sukuna with a fierce glare. "There wouldn't be any need for this if you just closed your eyes," you snapped, hoping against hope that he might relent this time.

Sukuna's response was a chuckle, deep and resonant. "That would hardly be interesting for me, little sorcerer."

Of course. Sukuna's world revolved solely around his own twisted desires and needs.

Fired up by his attitude and determined to end this humiliating ordeal, you hastened your last few steps. A big mistake.

In your rush, you misjudged the slight change in floor level at the bathroom threshold. Your foot caught the edge, and in an instant, your balance was lost. A sinking feeling took hold as you fell, the stone tiles of the bathroom floor rushing up to meet you. Instinctively, you closed your eyes tight, bracing for the impact that was sure to come.

But it never came.

Fluttering your eyes open, you found Sukuna mere inches away, his muscular arms circling your waist and bare back, effortlessly supporting your weight.

His fingers dug into your flesh with an almost possessive grip, the sharp tips of his nails scratched the surface of your skin, eliciting a slight sting.

His body was close, too close, and you could feel the contours of his chest through the flimsy towel pressing intimately against your breasts.

When you met Sukuna's gaze, for just a moment, there seemed to be a fleeting look of surprise in his eyes, almost imperceptible. As if he questioned his own actions, the decision to catch you rather than watch you fall.

But with another blink of your eyes, it was gone, replaced by his familiar scowl.

"Foolish brat," Sukuna growled, clearly annoyed he had to go through any kind of effort for someone else. "Maybe I should have let you fall—might have knocked some sense into that feeble head of yours."

As Sukuna's words reached you, the flush of embarrassment that had colored your cheeks rapidly drained, leaving your face pale and ashen. The close proximity had taken a toll, your body absorbing his cursed energy far more quickly than you could handle.

When Sukuna noticed the change in your complexion, his grip on you loosened. The sudden loss of support left you collapsing to your knees, the towel still clutched desperately against your chest in a futile attempt to preserve what little modesty you had left.

Sukuna turned away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. Whatever had sparked his quick action to catch you was now replaced with utter indifference.

"Your little trick of absorbing cursed energy isn't worth much if you can't control it. We'll focus on that in your next training session," he called out before striding away, leaving you to collect yourself and the scattered pieces of your composure.

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Three hours had passed since your mortifying encounter with Sukuna, and the familiar bustle of Jujutsu High's training grounds provided a welcome distraction.

Back then, after finally managing to change into a fresh set of clothes in the privacy of the bathroom, Sukuna had apparently left once more. In the end you could only assume his short and ill-timed return was to retrieve something he had forgotten.

You took a deep breath and pushed aside the memories of the morning's encounter. Lining up alongside Itadori, Megumi, and Kugisaki, you were eager to dive into today's class. Gojo was set to teach about cursed energy, a topic you were especially interested in after learning more about your own technique.

After your earlier failures in understanding and controlling your cursed energy, this felt like an opportunity to redeem yourself. 

As Gojo strode to the front of the training grounds, the usual chatter and bickering between Itadori and Kugisaki fell silent.

With a casual air of authority, the renowned sorcerer addressed you and your classmates.

"Alright, kiddos, listen up," Gojo began with a playful gleam in his voice. "Today's lesson is all about cursed energy. Time to put your skills to the test with some good old-fashioned pair battles." He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the group.

"The objective is simple—knock your opponent down. No cursed weapons allowed, just pure, unadulterated cursed energy." Gojo's lips curled into a slight smirk, as if he relished the challenge he was about to present.

"Now, I know some of you are still struggling with the finer points of controlling your cursed energy," he continued, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. "But that's why we're here—to push your limits and get better."

Gojo clapped his hands together, the sound echoing across the training grounds. "Alright, pair up and let's get started."

Itadori approached you with a friendly smile, "Hey, wanna pair up?" he asked.

You nodded, acknowledging the opportunity to test your skills against your friend. As you took your position across from him, his expression shifted; the carefree grin was replaced by a focused, determined gaze.

When the signal from Gojo rang out, Itadori surged forward without hesitation, his fists crackling with cursed energy. You braced yourself, knowing you needed to meet his attack head-on. Itadori swung his fist with precision, aiming directly at you. You ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. His energy-packed punch hit nothing but air. You knew you had to use your Cursed Energy Assimilation technique strategically, and timing would be crucial.

You closed in on Itadori, aiming to initiate physical contact. As he prepared for another attack, you feigned a stumble to draw his attention. Itadori took the bait and moved in for what he assumed would be a decisive strike. You caught his arm at the moment of contact, draining a slight bit of cursed energy from him.

He pulled back with confusion in his eyes, as he shook off the odd sensation. Itadori lunged again, and you sidestepped, grazing his shoulder with your hand. The drain continued, unnoticed by him, but with each touch, your strength increased while his attacks lost their vigor.

Sukuna's lessons so far, though harsh, had clearly paid off. Not only were you now aware of your cursed technique, but your overall battle prowess had improved dramatically too. The way you moved, the way you read Itadori's attacks, and approached the fight was on a whole different level than mere days before.

Meanwhile Itadori’s movements became less precise, his punches not packing the same power as before. He frowned, clearly puzzled by the unexpected decrease in his energy. “What’s going on?” he muttered under his breath.

You, on the other hand, could feel the exhilarating rush of having more cursed energy than you had started with. The power coursed through you, and with a final, well-timed maneuver, you channeled it into a decisive kick to Itadori's legs, sending him crashing to the ground.

There was a look of surprise and exhaustion on his face, as he felt the gravel beneath his hands.

The battle was over, and you’d won—but not without a toll.

Your technique had worked as intended, but the strain of absorbing so much cursed energy in such a short span of time, was doing damage. You felt lightheaded, and your stomach ached.

Gojo clapped, a rare show of approval. “Good work, both of you. Itadori, your fighting spirit is commendable. And you,” he said, turning to you, his tone light yet probing, “That was some great use of cursed energy. Have you finally grasped your cursed technique?”

Behind his tinted sunglasses, you seemed to notice a hint of suspicion in Gojo's eyes, no doubt regarding your sudden and remarkable improvement.

So, determined not to arouse those suspicions further, you opted for a more measured response. "I'm not entirely sure, Gojo-sensei," you replied, deliberately adding a touch of uncertainty to your voice. "But I think I'm starting to get the hang of it a little."

You managed a small, weary smile in Gojo's direction, and you could see his expression soften ever so slightly in response. "Well done indeed," he acknowledged with the familiar casual confidence that you had come to associate with him. "You know, I'm actually pretty impressed with your progress."

He paused, the corners of his lips quirking upwards in a slight smirk that hinted at his unspoken thoughts. "How about this," Gojo proposed, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that seemed to pierce through your defenses. "Let's set up a one-on-one training session this week. I'm eager to delve into the finer points of your technique with you."

The smirk on his face broadened slightly, his eyes still gleaming with that probing curiosity that concerned you so. "And while we're at it," he added, "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you. Just a little chat, nothing to worry about."

You gulped, as his words hung in the air, they were a clear indication that Gojo Satoru's interest in your abilities—and possibly your secrets—had been piqued.

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As you trudged back to the apartment, you couldn't suppress the frequent yawns that escaped your lips. Waking up at the crack of dawn for a grueling training session, followed by that horrifying shower incident, and then another round of training, had left you utterly exhausted.

Craving some well-deserved rest, you hoped that Sukuna had not yet returned, so you could peacefully collapse onto the couch for a much-needed nap. With that hope in mind, you fished the key from your pocket and slid it into the lock, turning it over with a click.

When you pushed open the door, the peace you had longed for was instantly shattered by an overwhelming mix of cursed energy.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, and your jaw nearly dropped at the sight before you.

There, sprawled across the couch—your couch—with an air of insolent ease, was Mahito, the cursed spirit who had nearly left you for dead just a week ago, with a gaping hole in your stomach.

Next to him, the volcanic-like spirit Jogo was hunched over, his attention fixed on a game of poker that had taken over the coffee table.

And seated with an almost deceptive calmness, cross-legged on a small pillow on the floor, was Geto. The only one you had come to regard as somewhat tolerable, though undoubtedly evil.

All of them had taken over your living space, engrossed in their card game as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You could only manage to stammer out a single sentence.

"What the hell—"

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[missy4176]

A Dance in the Moonlight

Kim dokja x reader

---

The night had settled like a velvet curtain, draping the world in shades of silver and shadow. The stars above twinkled like distant memories, and the moon hung low, casting a gentle light over the clearing where you and Kim Dokja found yourselves. It was one of those rare moments when the chaotic world seemed to hold its breath, offering a fleeting reprieve from the endless trials and tribulations that had become your lives.

Kim Dokja stood a few paces away, his usual calm, almost indifferent expression softened by the moonlight. He was a man of many masks, most of which he wore to protect himself and those he cared about. To the world, the cunning person who always seemed to be one step ahead. But to you, he was something more—he was Kim Dokja, the man who, despite everything, had found a place in your heart.

The silence between you was comfortable, the kind that comes from a deep understanding, from shared experiences that needed no words. Yet, tonight, there was something different in the air. It was as if the world itself had conspired to give you this moment, and for once, you were both willing to take it.

You stepped closer to him, your hand reaching out, a silent invitation. For a heartbeat, Kim Dokja hesitated. His dark eyes met yours, and you saw the flicker of uncertainty there. It was so rare to see him unsure, to see the man who always had a plan falter. But then, with a small, almost imperceptible smile, he accepted. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

Neither of you spoke as you began to move, swaying gently to the rhythm of the night. There was no music, no grand gestures—just the two of you, moving in sync with the quiet pulse of the universe. The ground beneath your feet was uneven, the grass soft and cool against your skin, but you barely noticed. All that mattered was the feeling of his hand in yours, the way his presence seemed to anchor you, even as the world continued to spin out of control.

And then, as if by some unspoken agreement, you both began to hum, the melody of "Can’t Help Falling in Love" drifting softly into the night air. The familiar lyrics seemed to wrap around you both, a gentle lullaby that spoke of inevitability, of the pull that had brought you together despite the odds.

"Wise men say, only fools rush in,

But I can't help falling in love with you..."

Kim Dokja’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, as if he feared that letting go would break the fragile peace you had found. His other hand hovered near your waist, hesitant, as if he were afraid to cross a line. You could almost hear the thoughts racing through his mind, the calculations and considerations that never ceased. But tonight, you didn’t want him to think—you wanted him to feel.

So, you stepped closer, closing the distance between you until you could feel the warmth of his body against yours. His breath hitched, just for a moment, and then he relaxed, letting himself lean into the embrace. It was a small victory, but it felt monumental in the quiet of the night.

As you danced, you found yourself studying him, really looking at him in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to before. There were shadows under his eyes, remnants of battles fought and lost in the recesses of his mind. His lips, usually set in a determined line, were slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. And his eyes—those deep, dark eyes—were filled with a sadness that he tried so hard to hide from the world.

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin,

If I can't help falling in love with you?"

You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t always have to be strong, that he could lean on you just as much as you leaned on him. But the words stuck in your throat, and instead, you simply held him a little closer, hoping that he could understand without you having to say it.

The moonlight cast long shadows around you, but in that moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world. There were no monsters, no prophecies, no death flags hanging over your heads—just the two of you, caught in a rare moment of tranquility.

Kim Dokja’s hand moved to rest gently on your back, pulling you even closer as if trying to fuse your being with his. His touch was tentative, almost as if he feared that you might disappear if he held on too tightly. But you weren’t going anywhere—not tonight, not ever if you could help it.

"Like a river flows surely to the sea,

Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be..."

For a long time, the two of you simply swayed in silence, letting the night stretch on. The world outside this moment could wait. For once, you were content to just be, to exist in this shared space with the man who had become your everything.

Eventually, the dance slowed, and Kim Dokja pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes searched yours, and for the first time, you saw something raw and unguarded there—an emotion that he rarely allowed himself to feel, let alone show. It was vulnerability, yes, but also something more. It was a promise, unspoken but understood.

"Take my hand, take my whole life too,

For I can't help falling in love with you..."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed it again, his usual stoicism taking over. Instead, he offered you a small, genuine smile, one that was meant just for you. And in that smile, you saw everything you needed to know.

The night would end, the world would continue to turn, and the storms would inevitably return. But in this moment, under the moonlight, you had each other. And that was enough.