#6 pocket cargo pants

[yutamayo]

Lesbians always wear cargo pants so they can carry all their love for u

[starmapz]

what you know - ch1: fallen angel || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.1k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

You make a point of not judging a book by its cover. So, when paired with the college’s resident bad boy for the literal most important project of the year, you just nod to yourself. Of course, you’re aware of his very poor attendance record among other things you’ve heard about him. At the end of the day, the rest is all hearsay, so you’ll treat him the same as you would any other group project partner.

Searching around the lecture hall until your gaze lands on him, you shoot him a kind smile. You don’t expect him to return it, he practically always sports a disinterested or aloof expression and now is one of those times, it would seem. He’s wearing his usual oversized but fairly stylish shirt, baggy cargo pants and a leather jacket, even though it’s quite warm inside. One airpod sits in his ear, only half paying attention.

The two of you are practically polar opposites. You, who shows up to class ten minutes early, jots down every note you possibly can, and turns in projects a week early, not to mention your fairly preppy style, makes the two of you about as different as it gets. On top of that, there were moments where Sukuna would dip into a room late and you would wonder why he bothers paying for college at all. Does he even want to be here?

Turning back to your laptop, you decide you’ll set up some documents for your project to get ahead of everything and stop worrying about someone else’s life. You’ll just have to make the most of the project. Besides, Sukuna could be the best project partner you’ll ever work with.

Upon dismissal, you wait a moment for the room to clear before slinging your pale pink bag over your shoulder, holding your books to your chest and making your way up the lecture hall to where Sukuna’s seated.

“Hey, nice to meet you, I’m-”

“I know who you are,” he sighs. “I’m Sukuna.”

Rude. “Right,” you swallow, blinking twice as you attempt to clear your mind of the less than ideal first impression. “So, I was thinking since we need to analyze three paintings, I can choose one, you can choose one and we can do the work separately and then work together on the last one-”

“Sure, whatever.”

You purse your lips. That was easy. Or does he just not care? Brushing off the thought, you nod slowly. “Okay. Great,” you mumble somewhat nervously, unsure if the reason your voice is wavering is out of fear that you’re doomed from the project, or the fact that Sukuna is hardly giving you the time of day and it’s somewhat imposing.

Finding the nerve to meet his gaze, you find that it seems he’s barely paying attention. His deep near-crimson eyes accented by tattoos are trained off to the side, one hand in his pocket and the other is fiddling with an unlit cigarette. You have half a mind to wonder if he’s heard a damn thing you’ve said given the airpod still hanging from his pierced lobe.

“Do you, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth as you mentally reset to stop yourself from stammering. “Do you want to go over anything before we do our parts?”

“Nah.”

Nah? Oh my god, you’re doomed. 

“Okay. No problem. Um, why don’t we just meet after class next Friday?”

Sukuna balances the unlit cigarette between his lips, shuffling to pull out his phone and open his calendar. “Sure,” he agrees, his words muffled by the cigarette.

“Great! I think we’ll want to start working on the third piece next week so I’ll choose the first painting and get started on it and then we can choose the last painting next week,” you say, putting the date in your calendar as well. “Oh! And we should exchange numbers.”

He hums in agreement, not even giving you the time for words now but he does give you his number. Realizing you aren’t about to get anywhere else with him, you shoot him a wry smile and make your way out the door.

Oh Shoko is so gonna hear about this.

–

Before you know it, next Friday comes around and when you turn your gaze to where Sukuna usually sits, you realize he just isn’t there.

Well that’s… lovely.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you groan with your face in your hands. This project was sure to be a nightmare at this rate. You could already see yourself going to talk to the professor about how Sukuna hadn’t done an ounce of work and it was all done by you.

Opening your laptop, you stare at the document you’d put together for Persistence of Memory, which may be an obvious choice but you love the painting too much to choose a different one.

Maybe you should just choose the third one on your own.

Maybe you should just choose the second one on your own…

Fuck.

You sigh, glancing back at Sukuna’s empty seat once more, and to your surprise just as you begin to give up hope upon seeing his seat empty, he ambles through the door in an oversized hoodie and sweats as though the lecture didn’t end fifteen minutes ago.

His gaze meets yours and he tilts his chin upwards at you, a silent message for you to take a seat near him.

Gathering your belongings, you take your laptop over to him, setting it on the table beside him in the mostly-empty lecture hall.

“Hey,” you greet him, receiving a grunt in response. “I was starting to think you were gonna flake out on me,” you joke with a somewhat nervous laugh when you meet his striking gaze. His disinterested eyes bore into you as he examines your nervous expression, and it’s then that you notice that- “are you okay?”

He sighs, heavy with exasperation, running a hand over his sharp features. His hair is still damp, not spiked up as usual as it hangs over his forehead, he has dark circles that make him look like he hasn’t slept in years, and his leg is shaking up and down like he’s got somewhere else to be.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, unimpressed that you’ve noticed how horribly disheveled he looks, but he brushes it off. “You got somethin’ to show me?”

“I, um-” you pause, casting him one last uncertain glance at the fact that oh my god, he looks sick? “Yeah, so I chose a Salvador Dalì piece,” you tell him, nudging your laptop towards him so that he can see your analysis.

He casts a glance at it, and it’s then that you realize that he doesn’t seem to have a laptop on him. Hm.

He seems to have noticed your confusion as he pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment or two before setting it in front of you. “Had to do something before our meeting, so I don’t have my computer right now, but here’s what I’ve got so far.”

You flash him a curious glance before staring at his phone screen, reading through his notes quietly. The Fallen Angel painted by Alexandre Cabanel. You can’t say you’re shocked, but it’s a good choice. His analysis is short and needs more detail, but it’s a good start and fairly insightful. Sukuna lacks elegance with his words, but this is just the research phase anyway. Okay, not a bad start.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

To your surprise, although he’s mostly quiet, he gives you some input on your analysis and hums in agreement when you ask him to write a bit more in certain areas to match your research. He doesn’t even seem that bothered by it, only mildly inconvenienced. You would almost argue that he was agreeable if you couldn’t feel the side-eye you were receiving from him.

When you finally settle on C. Allan Gilbert’s All is Vanity for your final piece, Sukuna excuses himself quite quickly and makes his way out, grunting in agreement when you ask him to meet you at the same time next week. You had hoped to get some research done with him but this would have to do, and hopefully you would have more time next week.

Only… when next week comes, he doesn’t show. You lean over the desk where Sukuna usually sits, figuring maybe he’s just late again, but as the clock rolls past the thirty minute mark, you begin to lose hope. Tapping your fingers rhythmically over the desk as you stare at the clock, you resign to texting him.

3:39 PM || You: hey! just wondering if youre on your way

Another twenty minutes of staring at the sent text does you no good and you can’t really get much done without Sukuna’s portion, so with a sigh, you push yourself up and call Shoko to go out with you. At least now you can make the most of your Friday night, even if it’s a bit earlier than intended.

–

“He just completely no-showed, huh?”

“Not even a text,” you confirm with a groan, keeping your attention on the road as you make your way to the bar by Shoko’s house. The afternoon sun glints on the windshield of your car, warming the interior of the vehicle rather comfortably for the early autumn day.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Shoko hums at the thought.

“I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, I mean honestly his research wasn’t too bad,” you sigh, casting a glance at your best friend.

“Could still be salvageable. Maybe try asking him what works for him?” She suggests with a shrug, leaning back in her seat as she stares blankly out the windshield.

“I don’t know. I think if I leave things up to him, he just won’t do it.”

“Oh, because he’s been so good at showing up when you organize things?” She chides with a raised brow.

You suppose you can’t really argue with that, so you groan in response. “At least he has a good taste in art.”

“Yeah?”

“A little edgy, but yeah. He chose The Fallen Angel, you know the one that-” you pause, moving your arm over your face to mimic the famous painting while keeping your eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel.

“Oh yeah, I think I know the one,” she agrees with a chuckle at your description. “I think I’ve seen-” she pauses as your car comes to a slow halt at a stop light. You shoot her a questioning glance when she remains quiet. “Speak of the devil. Isn’t that him?”

“Sukuna?” You question, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of whatever Shoko’s looking at.

Sure enough, the pink-haired man in question is on the sidewalk along with two young kids. He seems frustrated, his hand flying in the air in obvious exasperation and you wonder what his relation to them is. Your first thought is that they could be his, but the older of the two kids is just a bit too old to make that assumption.

Still, you didn’t take Sukuna as someone enthusiastic at the thought of being a babysitter.

“Shit, that is him,” Shoko confirms for herself. When the light turns green, the car jolts forward as you pull through a lane abruptly to turn and grab street parking very suddenly. “Woah, what are you-? You can’t be serious.”

“I-” your words die in your throat. Are you serious? What are you doing? It’s not like you’re friends. Are you here to confront him about not showing up? No, you aren’t really even mad, just frustrated at most. Your mind flashes back to how he’d looked the week before, like he could pass out at any moment, and you wonder if you’re here out of concern. “I don’t know,” you mumble, parking your car and hopping out.

“You are serious,” she mutters more to herself than you as she watches you leave the car with a sigh, following a short distance behind you.

The day is relatively warm for the early fall, the sun shining high overhead and providing a comfortable escape from the brisk breeze. Leaves are losing their vibrant green colors overhead, replaced with beautiful hues of yellows, oranges, and reds, and the sound of them rustling in the breeze is refreshing.

From around the corner, you can just barely make out Sukuna’s words. You were right to assume he was frustrated.

“Give it back to your brother,” he instructs, his voice a near-growl, but as the younger of the two kids whines in complaint, you can tell neither kid seems all that intimidated even by the almost seven-foot-tall man made of pure muscle who towers over them.

“No!”

“C’mon brat, I don’t have time for this,” he hisses out, voice rife with irritation. As you round the corner, lightly jogging up to Sukuna, you watch his gaze slowly turn to land on you and Shoko, his eyes widening for a moment as his expression shifts to surprise. For a moment you even think you see horror flash through his eyes, but he masks it all with his usual disinterested expression before you have time to think much about it.

“Sukuna?”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, running a hand through his tousled hair in exasperation.

“Hi! I’m Yuji!” The younger of the two boys bounds up to you, blatantly ignoring Sukuna as he waves to Shoko behind you.

You grin at him, kneeling down to his height as you greet him with your name. His eyes are filled with delight and as you get back to your feet, you put the pieces together. These must be Sukuna’s little brothers. Although the older of the two doesn’t particularly look like him, the youngest is a near carbon copy of Sukuna, only lacking his tattoos, piercings, and his signature attitude.

“What a cutie,” you coo at the little boy, who can’t be any older than five. The older of the two boys doesn’t resemble Sukuna in the same way Yuji does, with sunken eyes and unkempt long brown hair, he looks to be about eleven… and he also looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

“Don’t feed his ego,” Sukuna huffs, watching you interact with Yuji with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Look! Look!” Yuji excitedly holds his hands out to you. You recognize an old GameBoy in his hands, something you’re sure you have hidden away somewhere in your own apartment from your childhood.

“I had one of those when I was young,” you tell him, glancing up at Sukuna whose left brow slowly raises.

“Really? Do you like Pokemon?”

“Yuji, that’s enough. Leave her alone and give it back to your brother,” Sukuna instructs, his frustration laced within his words.

“No! Choso’s playing it wrong,” he argues.

Sukuna looks like he’s about to burst. If he were a balloon, he’d be floating dangerously close to a pin, and it’s in that moment that you finally get a good look at him. If you thought he looked sickly last week, he looks like he’s about to collapse now.

His eyes are sunken, skin pale, and although he’s making an effort to mask it, his focus seems as though it’s drifting while he simply stands there. His hair is disheveled in a way that doesn’t look intentional and there’s a stain on the abdomen of his shirt. Which, to your surprise, is also a uniform for a local food distribution warehouse. He’s wearing cargo pants, steel-toed boots, and a blue polo shirt. It’s a strange look for him, but you’re more concerned about the fact that he seems to be swaying, he’s so tired.

“I wasn’t playing it wrong!” Choso argues back, leaping at his brother as they get into a scuffle, and it’s barely a split second before Yuji is in tears alongside Choso.

“Fucking-” Sukuna cuts himself off, taking a step forward.

Instinctively, you step in before Sukuna needs to. “Hey, hey!” You coo softly, leaning back down to them. “Why don’t you both play together?” Yuji’s sobs don’t stop at your suggestion, although Choso backs away from the younger boy, listening to what you have to say with a heartbreakingly sad expression over something so simple. Life was so much easier at their age.

“How?” Yuji asks through sobs.

“Why don’t you take turns? It’s Pokemon, right?” You ask, earning a nod from Yuji as he sniffles and wipes his face, his sleeve absolutely covered in tears and snot already. “Why don’t you pass it over between each battle?”

Yuji stares at you skeptically, as though the little boy cannot possibly fathom sharing. Choso quietly waits for his brother to come to a conclusion as his sniffles subside, all the while Sukuna just watches the entire scene unfold with a furrowed brow.

“Okay,” Yuji finally agrees in a small voice. “But I go first!”

To your surprise, Choso seems fine with this as they both crowd around the game.

When you stand back up, you’re happy to find that Sukuna looks absolutely relieved.

“Fuck, thought I’d never hear the end of that,” he mumbles, making you wonder if that’s his begrudging way of thanking you.

You chuckle quietly, crossing your arms over your chest with a small shrug. “I’m good with kids,” you tell him. He eyes you for a moment, humming, but doesn’t say anything. After a brief silence, you glance back up at him to find the tall man’s tired gaze still boring into you.

“Ask,” he instructs.

Your brow raises. “Ask?”

“You wanna ask where I was today, right?”

That obvious, huh? “I did wait for an hour.”

A hint of a smirk graces his lips as he snidely comments, “y’know, I’m sure I’ve had other women wait longer.” You aren’t sure how he expects you to react, but the way you raise a brow and don’t entertain his lewd implications clearly doesn’t encourage him to continue. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he clicks his tongue and turns his head away from you. “Had to pick up a shift at work. Was gonna text but the little brat broke my phone yesterday.”

“Sorry, Kuna,” Yuji’s voice is small as you realize he’s been listening the whole time now that Choso is holding the GameBoy. His cheeks are puffy and red still from crying, but god he sure is a mini Sukuna.

“Kunaaaa?” You coo teasingly at the absolutely adorable nickname.

“He can’t say my name,” Sukuna grumbles, suppressing his irritation as best as he can, given that you did save him from further arguments with his brothers and he did already test his limits with you anyway. Still, his nose wrinkles in distaste at the nickname as he stares at the ground with a huff.

“That’s so cute!” You practically squeal, eyes bright as you grin at the hulking mass of anger and maybe even embarrassment as his cheeks heat up before your eyes.

“Shut up,” he hisses, still avoiding your gaze.

“It’s alright, by the way. We can figure out another time to meet.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll text-” he cuts himself off, blinking at the realization that he has no phone. “I’ll email you or some shit.”

“Email. Right,” you sarcastically tease with a tilt of your head. A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw visibly twitches and he huffs.

“Take it or leave it.”

You raise your hands in the air defensively, unable to help your amused smile. As silence falls over the both of you, interrupted only by Choso’s quiet commentary to Yuji about their game, you let your expression morph to one of concern again. Your lips part to ask if Sukuna’s alright, but he beats you to it.

“I’m fine.” His voice is low and strained and you both know you don’t believe him.

“You look it,” you challenge him sarcastically.

Sukuna’s jaw tenses as he stares you down as if daring you to challenge him again. Luckily for him, you’re willing to let it go.

“Do you guys need a ride somewhere?” You ask, glancing back in the direction of your car. Shoko is probably itching to get to the bar, though surely she won’t mind your offer given that the man in front of you looks like he could melt into a puddle if it only meant he could sleep.

“No.”

“Yeah!”

Sukuna and Yuji stare at one another as they both respond at the same time.

“No. We’re fine,” Sukuna growls, narrowing his eyes at the young boy.

“I don’t wanna walk anymooooore,” Yuji complains, shooting Choso a pleading look. Catching on, Choso shoots Sukuna a pair of puppy dog eyes. God the two of them are just adorable.

“No, both of you. Cut it out. Now.” Sukuna’s voice drops an octave as he hisses the last word.

“I really don’t mind,” you say quietly, leaning closer to him in an attempt to keep your words between the two of you.

“I don’t need your help,” Sukuna protests, taking a step towards you with massive muscular arms folding over his chest as his polo shirt is pulled taut from the movement.

“So if I give you a little push, you won’t fall over and pass out?”

“No.” He scowls defensively as he stares back at his two brothers, not noticing the way you slowly reach your hand out before shoving him lightly. He sways backwards slightly, catching himself before he actually does fall over as he swats at your hand. “Fucking- What the fuck is wrong with you?” He grouses, voice dripping with irritation and anger, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. He just looks tired.

“Let me drive you where you need to go and I’ll stop,” you taunt, moving your hand forward to shove him again.

Now paying attention, he grabs your wrist before you can push him. “Christ, you’re almost as much of a brat as my brothers,” he huffs, fiery eyes hyper-focused on your cheerful demeanor in spite of the fact that he’s been nothing short of snappy with you since you first showed up. “You’ll stop because I said so, not because I’m agreeing, got that?”

You shrug, shooting him a smile that says you won. “Whatever you say, Sukuna.”

He drops your wrist with a dramatic sigh before ushering his brothers after you as you turn to make your way back to your car.

“Can’t say I know what just happened,” Shoko whispers in your ear as she walks alongside you to your car. “But I’m surprised he agreed.”

“I’m not. He’s barely awake,” you tell her as you both cast a glance back at him. He doesn’t seem to notice as he bickers with his brothers, telling them to keep up if they want a ride from you.

“Yeah, he looks like shit,” she chuckles with a shake of her head. Never one to beat around the bush, but she is right.

Unlocking your car, you open the back door as Sukuna lifts his youngest brother into the backseat, grumbling about the two boys needing to behave before he climbs in himself, completely blocking your view through your rearview mirror.

He huffs and puffs as he gives you his address, choosing not to say a word throughout the ride as he listens to you chat with Shoko, muttering only the occasional “cut it out” or “stop that, brat” to one of his brothers.

Rolling up to what you assume is his apartment, you put the car in park and turn your attention back to the boys, putting on your best radio voice.

“Thank you for riding, please exit to your left and have a greeeeeat day!” You earn a sweet laugh from Yuji and a calm smile from Choso for your antics. You can practically feel Sukuna’s exasperation as it comes off of him in waves, clearly done with the world for the day, but you don’t miss the silent relief gleaming in his eyes.

“What do you say?” Sukuna gruffs, nudging the youngest of his brothers who you’re obviously putting on the show for.

“Thank you, miss!” He grins brightly as Sukuna opens the door and lowers him to the ground. He hands Choso a pair of keys, nudging them along to the door of the run-down building. To your surprise, he shuts the door and comes around to your side, knocking on the window.

You tilt your head as you roll down the window.

“Thanks…” he trails off as though the word is sour on his tongue, shooting a glance at Shoko in a silent gesture of thank you to her as well.

“No problem. Go get some sleep,” you tell him softly. Frustration flashes through his eyes as you tell him what to do but he’s not about to lash out at the person responsible for his grade who also gave him a ride home. Even he’s not that much of an asshole.

He sets a hand on your hood, pausing for a moment before he runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up more than it already was. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone, yeah?”

You tilt your head, exchanging a glance with Shoko as he looks between the two of you. “Yeah. No problem.”

His hand slides off your car as he rounds the vehicle to follow after his brothers. He pauses to cast a glance at you, before pushing into the front lobby of his apartment building and out of sight.

Silence falls over both you and Shoko as you watch the tattooed man disappear into the building when Choso holds the door open for him.

“That was fucking weird,” Shoko comments.

“Hm?” You hum as you pull out of the apartment, unsure of what she means. Of course Sukuna would have a life Shoko had never thought about, it’s not like they were close, you aren’t sure what she was expecting.

“He wasn’t a complete dick.”

Shooting Shoko a confused glance, you purse your lips. “Is he known for that? I thought he was just a bit of a delinquent.”

“Yeah, that too, but he’s pretty well-known for being snappy with people and snarky to profs.”

“Oh,” you blink twice in thought, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t know. He’s pretty quiet in Art History, this project is the first time I’ve ever talked to him. I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Huh,” Shoko shrugs, “guess you’re on his good side, then.” She sighs, leaning back in her seat once again. “Oh well, you have blackmail on him anyway, so there’s no way he’s bailing on you now,” she grins with a teasing smirk.

Your eyes widen and you move your elbow to nudge her. “Absolutely not, and don’t you think about it either!”

Shoko chuckles, though you know she wouldn’t anyway. Much like you, she’s too kind to spill Sukuna’s secrets to the school, regardless of her opinions or thoughts on him.

–

As you return home from the bar late that night with a comfortable buzz that had left you needing to keep your car at the bar overnight, you pour yourself a glass of water and open your laptop on your bed, letting it boot up while you change into an oversized cozy beige hoodie with little bows adorning the sleeves.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down over your hands and throwing on a pair of shorts, you run a hand through your hair and log into your laptop, pulling it onto your lap to browse social media, when something catches your eye.

You don’t pay much attention to your email inbox most of the time. Maybe you should, after all the college sends you a fair amount of emails and you’ve missed some in the past, but what catches your eye is certainly not from the faculty.

It’s a response to the document you sent Sukuna via email last week.

Oh shit, he was serious about sending you an email.

Maybe it’s because you're drunk, or maybe it’s because the idea of the nearly seven foot tall tattooed man who you’d watched leave class once just to smoke sending you an email of all things is a truly funny thought, but you snicker to yourself as you open it.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 1:17 AM hey. you around this weekend

Your snicker turns to a full laugh as you read the message. You can’t decide if the message feels like a sad attempt at a booty call, an old man attempting to text via email, or an embarrassing attempt to save his bruised ego since he can’t text you.

You’d learned from Shoko at the bar earlier that Sukuna has quite the reputation. Supposedly he’s known for bringing a woman home at every party, for being able to smooth talk his way into the bedroom in spite of his usually grumpy and ill-mannered demeanor, and for being able to always get what he wants even though he has a reputation for being an asshole. So it’s hard not to laugh when that same man is the one who just sent you the most awkward email. At one in the morning. On a Saturday.

Oh my god.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:12 AM Hey Sukuna! I’m around tomorrow afternoon and all day Sunday. Did you have time to work on the project?

You hit send and shut your laptop, deciding to brush your teeth and begin getting ready to get some rest. Taking off your makeup and brushing your hair, you finish up your nighttime routine and decide on a whim to see if your project partner has responded to you.

Getting under the covers and leaning against the headboard of your bed, you open your laptop again. To your surprise, your inbox has gone up by one.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:19 AM cool. come by mine tomorrow whenever

You snicker to yourself as you read the message again. He’s certainly not fighting either the sad booty call or old man texting via email allegations.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:23 AM Had to leave my car at the bar, did you wanna come by my place?

To your surprise, it’s only a couple of minutes later when he replies.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:25 AM uhhh i gotta watch over the brats

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:26 AM Bring them!! They’re so cute :)

You can practically feel his irritated grumbles through the screen when not even a minute later he responds.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 2:26 AM fine. address and time

With a satisfied smile, you let him know to drop by at two in the afternoon and send him your address before shutting your laptop.

As you lay down in bed, you can’t help but wonder what a strange little world you’ve somehow managed to squeeze your way into. Sukuna’s world. Maybe it’s because he’s easy to tease, maybe it’s the undeniable fact that he’s a good looking guy, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s actually surprised you more than once now and you’re somewhat enjoying the project more than you initially thought you would, but you can’t help but find yourself fascinated by him.

Come to think of it, you wonder if maybe Shoko’s comment has something to do with it. You think back to the way that she mentioned that he was oddly agreeable and, well, not a dick, and you wonder if it’s a curiosity to get to know this side of Sukuna that no one seems to know that compels you to be laying in bed at two in the morning thinking about the situation.

Regardless, you fall asleep with a calm little smile.

–

Glancing at the clock, you have half a mind to wonder if Sukuna will actually show up. Sure, he was the one who reached out, but maybe you should have just bussed to your car rather than waiting on Shoko to drive you to it and gone to his place on your own given that you can’t text him to ask where he is and it’s almost two thirty in the afternoon.

You could email him.

No… no. You aren’t about to email him.

You almost laugh to yourself at the thought.

Returning to your coffee, you keep at your work, refining your notes until you have something you think you can confidently write a full thesis about, when finally there’s a buzz at your door.

Speak of the devil. You buzz him up and there's a knock at your apartment door a few moments later.

“Cut that out,” Sukuna hisses practically the moment you open the door. You raise a brow at him and he sighs. “The brat, not you,” he clarifies, nudging Yuji.

You shoot him a sweet smile, suppressing a chuckle. Sukuna is dressed in a leather jacket, a white V-Neck and a pair of ripped jeans. In comparison to his usual baggy cargo pants and hoodie, he almost seems like he’s dressed up a bit and you can’t help but smile at the thought. More importantly though, the dark circles beneath his eyes are just a bit faded in comparison to when you had spotted him yesterday and you can tell he was able to get a bit of rest.

Yuji is excitedly looking up at you and attempting to tug on Sukuna’s hand while Choso stands behind his brother silently, his expression neutral.

“Hey guys, c’mon in.” You grin as you open the door for them, watching Yuji bound in ahead of his older brothers. He begins looking around with wide eyes, so full of wonder and excitement that you can’t help but smile.

“Such sweet kids,” you comment as Sukuna stands beside you, sighing as both brothers practically run to the sofa, looking around your little apartment excitedly.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You giggle at Sukuna, nudging him playfully. The glare he shoots you as he grunts seems to lack the usual malice his expressions hold and he runs a hand through his well-groomed hair, motioning for you to lead the way.

You show him to your little desk at the back of the apartment, pulling up a kitchen chair for yourself as you give him your office chair. He silently obliges, sitting down with his legs spread.

“One moment,” you mumble, heading into your room briefly before reappearing with none other than your old GameBoy, complete with a copy of Pokemon Ruby. Sukuna’s gaze is tethered to you and although his expression doesn’t change, you see surprise flash across his crimson irises as you walk up to the boys, kneeling in front of them.

“Choso, do you want to use my old GameBoy?” You ask the brown-haired young man, holding it out to him. His eyes are wide with surprise as Yuji’s jaw drops open. Choso nods, not saying a word as he flips the device and eyes the game. If it’s even possible, his eyes widen further and he smiles shyly.

“Are you sure?”

“More than sure. I bet there’s some neat Pokemon on that file,” you tell him.

The two boys exchange a grin and Choso thanks you profusely as he turns on the system.

“No problem. There’s a TV in my room, why don’t you two hang out in there and you don’t need to listen to your brother and I talk about boring art, hm?”

Yuji nods excitedly, bounding to his feet and grabbing your hand. Your heart swells at the action as you lead him and Choso to your room and hand them the remote. It takes all of a moment for both of them to begin bickering about what to watch, though you notice their arguments are fairly one-sided, with Choso being much quieter than his younger brother.

Leaving the two of them to their own devices, you make your way back out to Sukuna, who’s set his laptop on your desk and draped his jacket over the back of his chair. He’s wearing a white band tee with a deep V-neck for a metal band you aren’t familiar with, though the sleeves are torn off. With arms crossed over his chest and tattooed muscular arms on display, it’s undeniable just how attractive he is.

The real surprise is when he turns his head to look at you and his sharp eyes are, strangely, filled with… well you aren’t quite sure. Uncertainty? Confusion?

You subtly tilt your head when you take a seat on the kitchen chair beside him. His chair spins to face you as he examines you.

“Is something wrong?”

Sukuna’s adam's apple bobs as he swallows, before shaking his head. “Nah. Let’s just get this shit over with,” he grumbles, opening his laptop and turning his research document towards you. He’s clearly taken a look at yours, because his notes are in a similar format and he has about as much written as you, not to mention he’s put some work into research on the third painting you two had chosen.

Your brows raise as you read through it. “Wow, this is really good.”

He scoffs. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

You chuckle in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to come off that way, I just-” you pause, leaning back in your chair. Aside from the subtle sounds of Pokemon and the TV in the background, the only sound that breaks the silence as you pause is the squeaking of your chair. “I don’t know. When you were late and then you just didn’t show up, I…” you trail off, not wanting to accuse him of something that clearly isn’t true.

“You assumed the worst.”

Your mouth opens but any words you had in your defense die on your tongue, casting your glance to the side as you search for something, anything, to explain your thought process. No matter what way you try to word it, you’re definitely the bad guy here.

“It’s fine. Everyone does.”

Your brow furrows but before you can ask what he means, Choso is surprising you as he taps on your arm. You turn your attention to the young boy, who’s looking up at you with gleaming eyes.

“You have Rayquaza,” he states, arms outstretched to show you a serpentine creature on the GameBoy.

Your curiosity twists to easy mirth as you smile at him. “I guess I do, huh?”

Choso’s arms fall back down in front of him as he stares down at the Pokemon. His eyes flicker up to you briefly, then back down. “You have Groudon too.”

You can’t help your amused laugh. He’s such a sweet and shy little boy, but he talks just like Sukuna. Straight to the point, blunt, and rather short. He may not look like Sukuna like Yuji does, but his speech is just like his older brother’s.

“Leave her alone,” Sukuna mumbles gruffly from beside you. Choso smiles up at him before bounding back to your room. You can hear the two of them gearing up to play the games together from across the apartment, the game’s music heard in mismatched double as they both turn up the volume.

Turning back to Sukuna, your trail of thought is completely gone. “What was I saying?”

“You got any music? The brat’s game’s been drivin’ me crazy,” Sukuna mutters. “Yuji broke my laptop’s speakers,” he sighs.

“He’s on a hot streak for breaking things, huh?” You giggle.

“Don’t get me started.”

You turn in your seat, pointing towards the wall where a table sits with a fairly nice record player on it, and a shelf of records. They’re organized by artist and their sleeves range from new-looking to clearly well-loved.

Getting to his feet, Sukuna follows to where you point, curiously staring at the spines of the records. He’s not exactly shocked by most of the choices, but a few of them do stand out to him, and you’re thankful when you hear him sliding something off the shelf and putting it on the player.

You recognize the melody in the air instantly, and grin when Sukuna sits down beside you again. “The Eagles?”

Sukuna doesn’t move as his eyes slowly trail to you. He hums after a moment. “It’s a good album. You have… alright taste.”

In truth, he doesn’t mind your taste in music. Sure, he may not be fond of all of your choices, many in fact, but it would seem the two of you are making a habit out of surprising one another as he has his next album choice in mind already.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckle at his dry attempt at being nice. The corner of Sukuna’s lips twitches up into a hint of a smile. It suits him.

As Hotel California blankets the air in warm strings and simple drum beats, the two of you are able to get a good amount of work done, putting your research together into one well-written and coherent thesis, one to be proud of.

Of course, you still need to put together an actual visual presentation to go with the thesis to be presented, but at least the bulk of the work is over with and you can feel confident in your project without concern anymore.

You have half a mind to get started on the visual portion now as well to get it all finished, but one glance at Sukuna tells you he’s tapped out, and either way you’ve gone through three records at this point as the final track on a Pink Floyd album comes to a close.

As silence falls over your project group, Sukuna lets out a sigh. It’s fairly dark in the room too as the sun sets, and when you check the clock to find it’s already six, you realize that’s likely why your stomach’s been making noises for the last twenty minutes.

“Why don’t you guys all stay for dinner?” You suggest, mostly out of politeness, but you can’t help but feel as though you’re drawn to him. You want to get to know him, know why he’s late so often, why he stays in school just to not show up for classes when it’s his money being blown. After all, it can’t just be his brothers or work, he likely only takes care of them while his parents are at work, surely.

Sukuna wearily glances between you and the door where his little brothers are, before shaking his head. “Nah, I can just make us somethin’ when we get back.”

“I insist,” you grin at him, watching the way a muscle twitches in jaw. “There are some great places nearby, we can just grab takeout while they play games, we’ll only be gone for a moment.”

He remains silent, arms crossed disdainfully over his chest before grimacing, giving in to your overly kind grin.

You settle on a curry restaurant just down the block and grab the boys’ orders, letting them know you’ll be right back. You’re sure you can trust Choso to look after his younger brother for twenty minutes.

As the chilly evening air hits your face, you let out a content hum, peering curiously back to see Sukuna falling into step with you. The two of you are a sight to behold, your appearance preppy and sweet decorated with autumnal colors fitting for the season, while he’s clad in leather and punk attire, the tones of his clothing purely grayscale.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, keeping his mild gaze locked in front of him.

“How old are they, your brothers?”

“Five and twelve,” Sukuna replies, fighting off a yawn and failing.

Amused, you smile up at him. “I’m glad you got some rest last night. I was worried about you.”

His brow twitches as he meets your kind smile. “Worried? About me?” He shoots you an incredulous look, scoffing. When you pout at him, he’s unable to hold back a smirk. It’s the first time you’ve seen him truly at ease and now that you’re alone with him, you notice that he actually seems to be somewhat relaxed.

“Yeah, maybe I was. Shoot me,” you shrug, playfully rolling your eyes.

He snorts, entertained, growing silent although the air that settles over you is comfortable now. Sukuna’s presence is surprisingly calming now that he isn’t constantly regarding you with disinterested gazes and irritated huffs. His expressions remain mild, but his brooding is more infrequent and the tension in his gruff voice has dulled. You would almost think he likes being around you.

As you come up to the curry restaurant, you lean into Sukuna with a point of your finger, silently telling him to enter the restaurant to your right. He pulls the door open for you, trailing closely behind. The atmosphere of the restaurant is busy, the employees behind the counter moving quickly to fulfill orders. Sukuna can only imagine how good the food must be given the line waiting to order, though you assure him it won’t take long.

He casts a glance up at the menu and frowns as he takes in the prices. He can afford to pay for himself, Yuji, and Choso, but not you. He has half a mind to say something, but his pride causes him to choke on the words. He inconspicuously pulls out his phone to take a look at his bank app to see if he can swing anything, but catches a glimpse of an employee not paying attention as he moves quickly towards you, all the while you’re not paying attention either, idly staring at the menu.

The employee about to barrel into you is holding a massive steel bucket and while Sukuna can’t see what’s inside, he doesn’t love the idea of you covered in water or worse.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he lowers himself slightly, locking a strong arm around your middle and lifting you off the ground. You yelp in surprise, eyes wide as you latch onto his arm for purchase, head whipping around in confusion until you find the employee now walking past the exact spot you were in with boiling hot oil in a bucket.

Your lips purse, a shiver running from the base of your spine up to your nape just as Sukuna drops you to the ground unceremoniously in front of him. Your heels land with a clack on the ground as you catch your balance, your eyes still trailing after the employee that hadn’t been able to see you over the jug of hot oil they carried.

“Pay attention,” he scolds you with a frown.

“Oh my god,” you mutter mostly to yourself, your heart beating out of your chest as you finally look up at your savior. Your eyes flicker down to his arms. Even covered in leather, the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric with each movement he makes doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Thank you, S’kuna.”

He shoves his hands in his pocket, nodding. The way you abbreviate his name is painfully close to the nickname he avoids as much as he can, but he can’t bring himself to correct you and in all honesty, he’s not sure why. He lets it slide, clearing his throat as he clears his mind of the way the name seems to shake him.

“Don’t make a habit of it.”

His words feel like they should be scolding, but his tone doesn’t hold the same meaning. As he stares back up at the menu with a stitch in his horribly handsome brow, you can’t help but find yourself confused by the meaning of his words.

You don’t have much time to think about it as your turn to order comes and you find yourself at the counter, giving the employee your order before glancing back at Sukuna. His mouth parts and he hesitates.

“I- uh-”

You’ve never seen him dither in such a way and you tilt your head, blinking in confusion.

“I can’t-”

Frustration flashes through his eyes and you can see his jaw clench as he trips over his words. Flustered isn’t the right word, but his pride is certainly hurt as he finally manages to force out the explanation you need.

“I can’t afford to- uh-”

Again he pauses, his expression burning with irritation as his cheeks heat up, the admission coming at the cost of his ego.

Your face softens in understanding and your soft fingers wrap around his tattooed wrist, pulling him up to the counter.

“I’ve got it. I invited you to stay, it’s on me.” You hold your card out with a kind smile, but Sukuna doesn’t share your sentiment, anger flashing across the crimson of his eyes as he grits his teeth at you.

“I don’t need help,” he hisses, eyes narrowed as his walls go back up right before you.

“That’s not-” your eyes widen as you try to salvage the situation when Sukuna recoils suddenly. You hadn’t intended for him to take your words so personally, you’d just felt it was the right thing to do given that you had invited not only him, but both of his brothers over as well, and suggested the place to begin with. “You can get the next one,” you tell him in hopes of mending the bridge between you.

He examines your expression, finding no traces of malice or ill-will in your features. Frowning, he huffs as he turns to give his order to the poor employee who’d had the displeasure of witnessing Sukuna’s outburst. In his silence, you order for his little brothers as well.

With a dour sigh, the tattooed man moves along to the side to wait for the order, the fact that you paid leaving a sour taste in his mouth. You make your way over to him, leaving a small distance between you.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.”

“Really, I- I-” you stumble over your words as he glares at you. You suppose Shoko had warned you that Sukuna was notoriously an ass, but you hadn’t witnessed it first hand until now. Still, you can’t help but feel like what you’re witnessing isn’t that. At the end of the day he isn’t lashing out for no reason, it’s clear you struck a nerve and you can’t blame him for being hurt by it, even if it’s not what you intended and you don’t fully understand where he’s coming from.

“Drop it,” Sukuna growls, though his anger has subsided somewhat, his gaze cast to the wall.

You blink up at him, hating the way the world seems to hold its breath around you.

You can’t deny that the man who towers over you, covered in tattoos and piercings is intimidating. Between his gruff voice, his mild mannerisms and his disinterested demeanor, he’s tough to read and you really can’t afford to let a rift come between you when you still have to work on your project.

Your lips part to say something but one striking glance from those crimson eyes has the words dying in your throat. Your mouth goes dry as you wrack your brain for anything to stay, but draw a blank.

Sukuna’s brow knits together at the sight of your anxious expression and he shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing.

It takes him a moment to fully cool off and collect his thoughts, but he can see in your eyes that you genuinely meant no harm and he supposes it’s the right thing to do to give you a break for that. You’re just naturally kind and he finds that he needs to remind himself of that.

“It’s… fine,” he murmurs in a strained voice, nudging you with his elbow. You crack a smile at him, thankful when his body language seems to relax somewhat again.

You don’t dare say anything as you wait for your food, fiddling with your phone in your hands as you contemplate his reaction. You obviously hurt his pride unintentionally by offering to pay, but between skipping school for work and the fact that this restaurant isn’t by any means expensive, you have a guess as to why he might have been so affected, one that makes Sukuna’s entire demeanor and his exhaustion click into place like a puzzle.

Before you have a chance to ask him, unsure if you even want to, your name is called and Sukuna is grabbing your order. You reach out to grab one of the bags but Sukuna swiftly holds it overhead with a smirk that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as you pout playfully. He continues to hold the food overhead as he leads the way outside. Watching you trail closely behind him, standing up on your tiptoes in an attempt to reach the bags, he raises a brow.

“Walk, brat.”

You shoot him a look, brow furrowed, before giving in and falling into step alongside him. He brings his arms down, holding the bags on his arms opposite you.

With your mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Sukuna’s earlier outburst, you bring your lower lip between your teeth, mindlessly chewing on it as you stare at the sidewalk beneath your feet.

Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals, taking note of the way you’re deep in thought. “Just fucking ask your question.”

Much like yesterday, Sukuna easily notices the way you glance at him uncertainly, the question on the tip of your tongue. It catches you off-guard how easily he reads you and you fall out of step with him, taking longer strides to catch up after you falter.

“I- um- do you-” you hesitate, casting a glance at his aloof expression. He seems at ease again and you don’t want to burn the bridge you’ve only just managed to mend, out of fear that another fire wouldn’t be put out so easily.

“Yeah.”

You stop in your tracks, blinking in surprise with pursed lips. Sukuna raises a brow at you, only a short distance ahead as he stops too, turning to face you. You can’t read his expression as it remains mild, his questioning brow the only sign that gives away any hint of his thoughts. In a few short strides, you’re back at his side.

“You’re… their guardian?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Sukuna chews on his tongue piercing mindlessly as he watches the gears turn in your mind, putting together the pieces of the puzzle that had been laid out for you.

Of course Sukuna’s tired if he’s taking care of two young boys, going to college, working, cooking, cleaning, god the list can only go on. You wonder if the reason he seems so at ease right now, so quick to forgive you, is because he’s thankful for the break. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s had time to himself.

“That’s why you missed yesterday.”

He shrugs. “You knew that already.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your turn to shrug. “I just thought it was a temporary thing.”

Sukuna lets out a humorless laugh. “Well it’s not.”

You’re not really sure how to react, in all honesty. You don’t want him to think you pity him, you can’t offer sympathy, you certainly can’t offer help. In your uncertainty, you find yourself continuing to fiddle with your phone, avoiding his gaze.

Sukuna quite simply… turns to leave, deciding to spare you of your discomfort, and him of any more blows to his pride. You jog after him, falling into step again. There are questions left unanswered and sympathies you want to extend, but you can’t bear the thought of hurting him again, even if it’s unintentional, so you bite your tongue.

The sounds of the city surround you, filling the silence. Sirens blare in the distance, trees rustle above you, and casual chatter comes and goes as you pass other groups of people on the way to your apartment. It’s all a welcome distraction as you continue to fiddle with your phone, the air between you two neither tense nor comfortable. It lies somewhere in between and you don’t dare tip the scales out of fear of making your counterpart uncomfortable.

“You play a lot of Pokemon growin’ up?”

Your eyes light up as Sukuna starts a conversation, finally tipping the scales back towards being comfortable.

“My best friend growing up really liked it, we played a lot of Ruby and Sapphire.”

“Same as the brats.” He scoffs playfully.

“Are you gonna pretend that isn’t your old GameBoy?”

He tilts his head in your direction, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “And if it is?”

“Dunno, I might think you’re a bit of a nerd,” you tease, mindlessly chewing on your lip.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker down to your lips. He catches himself immediately, averting his gaze. “Tch.”

You giggle when he doesn’t refute your claim. He shoves his hands back into his pockets, your takeout bags dangling from his forearm.

As you arrive back at your apartment, Sukuna lets you unlock the door before grabbing and holding it open for you. His eyes trace your figure as you tread ahead of him with a skip in your step. When you turn back to him, realizing he hasn’t followed you yet, he blinks in surprise as he realizes exactly what he’s doing, shaking his head to clear it.

Why in the hell was he checking you out anyway? He doesn’t make a habit of hooking up with people who know him beyond face value. He mutters a ‘sorry’, relieved when you don’t seem to notice the way he’d so shamelessly checked you out.

Closing the door behind him, he sets the food on the table, tossing his jacket aside as you call his brothers, setting up a little dinner around your coffee table. Sukuna groans as he slips down onto the floor to eat, remaining quiet as he simply watches the way you cheerfully entertain both of his brothers’ antics.

Shoveling rice into his mouth, Sukuna stares down at his curry, contemplating the strange sense of warmth blooming in his chest. The feeling is so unfamiliar to him that he can’t place it. He has half a mind to drown the emotion in nicotine and the need to smoke grows quickly.

He’s so preoccupied in his thoughts, Sukuna doesn’t realize his little brothers have both run off back to your room, leaving the two of you alone.

“S’kuna?”

Striking pupils suddenly meet yours. He straightens from where he sits across from you on the couch, taking notice of the fact that you’ve already finished your dinner.

“Are you alright?”

Sukuna nods. “‘M fine.” Yet he can’t help but to drink in the sight of you, the way you look at him with so much care and he can’t understand why, the way your lips move so softly when you speak. The way your figure and curves would feel under his hands, the way you keep biting your lip… Sukuna shakes his head suddenly, getting to his feet as he chalks it up to lust. He’ll get over it at the next party he goes to. “Balcony?” He asks suddenly, pointing at the door at the back of your apartment.

You nod, watching in confusion as he rises suddenly and rushes out the door, pulling out a box of cigarettes. You hum to yourself, deciding to give him a moment. You’re not sure exactly what came over him, he seemed flustered even if only for a moment, but there was something else you noticed in his eyes, something darker you couldn’t identify.

Pushing that aside, you put the lid back over his food to keep it warm and check your phone to find Shoko’s been trying to reach you to go pick up your car. You let her know you’ll have to pick it up tomorrow since you’re with Sukuna as you wait for him to finish smoking.

After a few messages back and forth, you glance back outside at Sukuna. The way the muscles along his back ripple just from the act of breathing is eye-catching enough, but when he stubs out his cigarette and leans over the railing of your little balcony, your eyes trail to his shoulder blades protruding from the white material of his shirt.

Catching yourself holding your breath, you take a step forward and decide to check on him, closing the balcony door in your stead as you slip onto the small overlook behind him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you even as you lean beside him, his tired expression fixated on the street below. You rest a hand on his bicep as you tilt your head quizzically. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Ever aloof, you aren’t able to tell what he’s thinking as he turns to look at you. You, completely unaware that your touch has set his skin alight. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes have darkened a shade as his pupils dilate at your touch. Unsure what’s come over him, he simply hums affirmatively as an answer to your question.

Your brow knits together but you accept his response. He wonders if you know that you’re rubbing circles into the skin of his bicep and it’s driving him crazy. What the hell is it about you that’s got him horny like it’s his first year of college again? It frustrates him beyond belief, but maybe it’s just been too long since he’s slept with someone. That has to be it. It’s just lust. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the action when you finally bring your attention out to the road in front of you both, removing your hand from him.

“Hey, um, what do you do at the supermarket?” You ask in an effort to create conversation with him.

“Stock,” he replies shortly, his tone as stoic as his expression.

“That’s not too bad,” you murmur thoughtfully, giggling to yourself suddenly. Sukuna’s brow raises. “Sorry, I just can’t imagine you as, like, a cashier or something.”

“Why not?” He sneers, standing up straight and facing you, offended.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you’re not very talkative.”

“I can be,” he insists, taking a step towards you.

“Is that your way of proving it?” You provoke him with a grin.

He scoffs. “I just don’t have anythin’ to say,” he grumbles with a tense jaw, staring down at you. “‘Sides, I work with customers at my other job.”

Another job? You frown at his admission. How the hell is he managing this? How hasn’t he flunked out? “What other job?”

“Mechanic,” he states blandly.

“Really? Are you a big car guy?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Sukuna’s somewhat taken aback by the way you lean in, your full attention directed towards him. You seem to take such a genuine interest in him and he isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

A smirk plays at the corners of his lips as he decides to mess with you, loving the idea of keeping you on your toes and pushing your buttons. “Nah. ‘M just good with my hands,” he drawls as you present him the perfect opportunity to tease you back given how much of a hard time you’ve been giving him.

Your eyes widen at his euphemism, cheeks heating up as you grip the balcony railing harder. You avert your gaze in an attempt to save face, willing your heart to slow down to no avail.

You clear your throat. “I-I um, th-that makes sense,” you stammer, mentally facepalming at just how nervous your words come out. He has no right to be this hot.

“Not so talkative now, are ya?” He chuckles lowly, sliding from his position leaning on the railing beside you to rest his opposite hand on your other side, effectively trapping you.

You flip over to face him, leaning back against the railing with pursed lips. Sukuna grins at your mousey behavior, thrilling in the way you squirm trapped between him and the railing. “Sukuna?”

His heart pounds in his chest at the sound of his name coming from your lips and his smirk falters. Why the hell is his heart beating so fast? He forces his smirk again, moving his face down to your level in an effort to push away the strange feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, woman?”

Focusing on anything other than the man in front of you, you can only manage to mumble out a few ‘um’s and ‘uh’s. Sukuna chuckles at just how flustered you are, freeing you from the cage of his arms as he rests against the railing beside you again.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore your spiraling thoughts. And boy are they ever spiraling as you stare out at the street beneath you, attempting to focus on the passing cars and not your pounding heart. “Why are you in Art History?”

Sukuna’s lit another cigarette in the time that you’ve used to recover your thoughts. He looks calmer once again as smoke spirals from the glowing embers. “Required class.”

“R-Right.” You swallow, moving past your stammer. “What do you want to do?”

He pauses for a moment, taking a languid drag from the cigarette. A puff of smoke leaves his lips before he replies. “Dunno. I’m a history major.”

You wouldn’t have imagined the college’s resident bad boy to be a history major, if you’re being honest with yourself, but you remind yourself not to judge a book by its cover.

He runs a hand through his hair as you contemplate the idea of Sukuna as a history major and what he might do with that major given that you can’t envision him as a historian or a museum curator, and certainly not as a teacher.

“I’m thinking of swapping majors,” he admits. You examine his expression as he taps the edge of the cigarette with a finger. He shrugs, shifting his gaze to stare at the sidewalk beneath the both of you. “Starting to think history doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, what do you want to do, Sukuna?”

He casts you a glance, examining your attentive face. You’re so wholly invested in his words that it causes a pang in his chest. He subconsciously brings a hand up to his chest, scratching at it as if to cast the strange feeling away.

Setting the feeling aside, he finds himself scowling in thought. When he was considerably younger he’d wanted to pursue graphic design but he hadn’t had the luxury of thinking about his future for a while now. In truth, he’s not even sure why he’s in history right now. It interests him enough to keep him attentive but the career options are… few and far between and he can’t exactly afford to fuck around and swap majors constantly.

His minor in business makes more sense, at least he can do something with it, but… in truth, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s another page filed under ‘uncertainties’ in the book that is Sukuna.

You take his silence as an answer and shoot him a wry smile. “You don’t have to answer, I’m sorry to pry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I just dunno that either.”

Admitting to it feels shameful, almost, and frankly, Sukuna thinks he’s had enough of making a fool of himself in front of you today. Stubbing out his cigarette, he stands up and makes his way back inside. You follow after him, blinking as he begins packing up.

“I should go,” he mumbles, shutting his laptop and tossing it into his bag. He picks up his keys from your desk, shoving them in his pocket as he zips up his backpack. “Oh,” he stops his movements, hesitating for a moment. “I… Appreciate dinner.”

Your expression softens and you smile wholeheartedly. “No problem. You can take your leftovers, too. They’re still on the table,” you point over to the box you’d set the cover over. He nods, shutting it and tucking it in his bag as well.

With a tired sigh, he gathers his brothers, ushering them towards the doorway.

“Got anything to say?” Sukuna utters, staring down at both kids expectantly.

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, miss!”

You grin at both kids, kneeling down. “I hope you two had fun. You know, maybe you can convince your brother to come over again and I’ll pull out my old GameCube.”

With the expressions of jaw-dropping awe you’re getting right now, you would think you’d revealed to them the secret to happiness or something. Yuji leaps into your arms immediately, nearly toppling you over as he shoots a pleading stare at Sukuna.

Sukuna’s expression shifts to one of irritation as Yuji pleads with him, “Kuna! Pleeeease pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” that has you giggling at the way a vein in his forehead seems to pulse.

“Brat. Brat! Shut up, I’ll think about it, alright?”

Yuji nods cheerfully, counting straight to Sukuna’s leg to hug him, and the clear irritation on your classmate’s face immediately falters. Maybe he’s a bit of a softie after all.

Sukuna sighs heavily, reaching a long arm down to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Yeah, alright, kid. If she invites us.”

His voice is tired, albeit strangely soft. It’s almost like he’s a different person, and suddenly you can see why it is that he’s pulling such a terrible schedule. Despite the clear stress being a twenty two year old parent to two young kids is, he clearly loves them.

But this is Sukuna we’re talking about, so he doesn’t always know how to express that.

It’s sweet, really, and your heart melts at the sight.

“Go wait outside, you two.” Both kids run down the hall to the elevator as they excitedly ponder what games you might have, leaving you and Sukuna alone as he leans on the doorframe.

“You free next Saturday?” You ask once his attention returns to you.

“I can let you know. Depends on the auto shop’s schedule.”

“We can always do another day, whatever works best for you, Kuna.” Your voice holds a teasing lilt as you mimic Yuji’s entirely too adorable name for him.

“Don’t start with that,” he snarls, mumbling something about the name being annoying. Before turning to walk away, he decides to pay you back for all of your teasing with a jab of his own. “Don’t make a habit of getting oil dumped on you, yeah?”

What Sukuna isn’t expecting is for you to be able to match his teasing without a second thought. “What, I can’t email you for help?”

He snorts, smirking at the ground as he pushes himself off of the doorframe and begins to turn away. “See you around,” he says, raising a hand in farewell as he follows after his two brothers. Your eyes trail curiously after him until he’s out of sight, shutting and locking the door quietly.

In truth, you don’t expect to hear from him until maybe next Friday if you’re lucky, but to your surprise when you check your email later that night, your inbox has a new email from Sukuna. It’s still funny, to think that you’re communicating via email, but at least you aren’t giggling to yourself as you open this one.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:04 AM brat stole your gameboy. meet at the fountain at noon monday

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:23 AM That’s alright!! He can keep it :)

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:27 AM no he needs to learn. noon at the fountain

With a sigh, you realize he isn’t about to relent and give in.

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Sunday, 12:28 AM Okay I’ll see you then Kuna lol

And oh if you could see the way Sukuna is guffawing and huffing at his screen, slamming his laptop shut as you call him the nickname he doesn’t want anyone to know. Yet here you are, barging into his life on all fronts and learning more about him than he wants.

The way his heart stutters, it actually stutters when he sees his inbox go up by a notification because he just knows it’s you and fuck why is it actually cute when you use that nickname?

Sukuna rubs a hand over his face and pulls his comforter up over his shoulder, sinking into the plush of his mattress as he tries to get some rest before his shift the next morning. He’ll deal with his other issues later.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

❦ a/n ; hello!! thank you so much for reading i've been having an absolute blast with this. i've been working on this for a long time and it was initially intended to be about 25k, but after working on it for a month straight it hit that pretty quickly and i'm nowhere near done. aaaanyways, thanks for all the love and support and as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated <3

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

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writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [6]

Part Six | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: Oof—alright, it's been a hot second, everybody. Apologies for going MIA for a while (life, y'know?). I haven't forgotten about this fic and I know that none of you have forgotten about it based on the amount of notes and messages I get (which I appreciate greatly). Thanks for sticking it out with me guys. Excited for you all to see what I have planned in the coming chapters. In the meantime, let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

“Fuck!”

The expletive escapes your lips before you can think twice about it. You nervously look around the camp, searching for Carl and Sophia. The last thing you need is for Lori and Carol to get on your case because you accidentally taught the children swear words. After realizing that neither of them is in earshot, you let out a sigh of relief. 

You look down at the garment in your lap. Shane had thrown a pair of his cargo pants at you earlier this morning, grumbling about a hole in one of his pockets. You had woken up earlier than him, probably because he had returned to your shared tent far after everyone else in camp had retired for the evening. This was becoming somewhat of a routine for the two of you: Shane sneaking around in the middle of the night thinking you’re asleep; meanwhile, you spend the restless nights in your tent waiting to see if he actually comes back. You never ask him where he was in the morning—knowing that Shane would brush you off by saying he was on watch as if you don’t understand that the shifts rotate every night. Another sigh escapes your lips as you defeatedly throw the pants onto the table before you and turn your attention to your finger, which you had clumsily stabbed with a needle while attempting to fix the garment.

“You ‘lright?”

The sound of Daryl’s rough southern drawl makes you jump. You look up and see Daryl standing a few feet away with his raised hands. He takes a few careful steps toward you—his movements are slow and calculated. Your brow furrows at the sight—did he think you’re afraid of him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“It’s okay, Daryl. I was just a little distracted.”

Daryl nods at your words before taking a seat beside you at the table.

“What’d ya do to your hand?”

He leans toward you slightly to get a better look, his concerned eyes raking over your hands, looking for any sign of injury. A small smile spreads across your face as Daryl continues to worry about your well-being. You raise your hands to show him that you’re perfectly okay.

“It’s nothing. Just pricked my finger—Shane has a hole in his pocket, and I was never good with a needle and thread.”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly as you speak. Daryl chews on his bottom lip as he looks at the cargo pants on the table. It’s ripped along the seam, an easy fix—he’s done it numerous times for his own tattered jeans.

“Give it ‘er.”

You look at Daryl’s outstretched hand in disbelief for several seconds before handing him the needle and thread. Daryl snatches the pants off the table and gets to work. You watch him curiously—his brow furrows as he focuses on the task at hand. Daryl momentarily lets his attention drift to you; he awkwardly shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable with how intently you’re watching him.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

His tone is defensive, but it doesn’t make you back down like everyone else.

“Just surprised, is all.”

“What, Shane doesn’t know how to sew?”

He meets your incredulous gaze and can’t help but laugh. The sound is still foreign to his ears, even though it’s becoming somewhat of an ordinary occurrence when he’s with you. He’s much more used to the sound of Merle yelling, music blaring, old motorcycles' roar, and the forest's peaceful ambiance. 

“Well, you shouldn’t have to do everything for him.”

His genuine words should comfort you, but instead, they nag at you. You shouldn’t have to do everything for him. You shouldn’t have to turn a blind eye to your boyfriend’s nightly habit. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him. You shouldn’t have to make yourself smaller for his convenience. And yet, here you are. 

“You have a cigarette?”

The question catches Daryl off guard. He’s only seen you smoke once—that night at the campfire, and he swore it was his fault. Your words from that night still rattle around in his head. You’re a bad influence, Dixon. He completes his final stitch, bringing the thread to his mouth so he can rip it off with his teeth. He places everything back on the table before pulling out his pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket and offering it to you. You take one from the pack, twisting it in your fingers before placing the cigarette between your lips. Daryl notices your hesitation as he hands you his old lighter, so he waits until you’ve lit your cigarette before pulling out one of his own. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, but something about this doesn’t sit right with Daryl.

“What’s goin’ on?”

You furrow your brow at his question, feigning confusion, but Daryl doesn’t relent. He simply raises a brow at you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. You let out a defeated sigh before answering his question.

“It’s just Shane…”

You trail off thinking that since it’s relationship drama, maybe Daryl wouldn’t be interested. But he doesn’t try to change the subject or brush you off, instead, he gives you his undivided attention. He watches you quickly look around camp, scooping the area and taking account of who is around. A frown pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips as he realizes that you’re once again looking over your shoulder for Shane.

“He wasn’t always like this. I mean, he was always a hothead, but he wasn’t always so cruel.” 

“Hey…”

The softness in his tone catches you off guard, and you look up at him. A part of you wants to cry at how attentive Daryl is at this moment. It’s been so long since someone has shown you this kind of care.

“You ain’t gotta defend him to me.”

Daryl watches as a single tear falls down your cheek at his words, and he begins to panic. Did he upset you? Was he out of line? Had he gotten the situation between you and Shane wrong? This isn’t his forte. He wishes he was a different man—a better man, a softer man. He wishes he was more like his mother and less like his father. That she could have lived long enough to teach him a few more life lessons—like how to comfort someone you care for. 

Before he has the chance to spiral completely out of control, he feels your fingertips find his, and his heart damn near stops. He involuntarily pulls away from your touch, and it makes him wince. He sits in the shame of his response to your touch. A better man would have been able to return your affection. Finally, he meets your gaze, expecting to see the hurt he caused by his reaction. Instead, he’s met with a smile so warm and tender that he can practically feel the shame in his body melt away.

“Thank you, Daryl.”

A small, affectionate smile pulls at the corners of Daryl’s lips. 

“It was nothin’.”

You shake your head at his words. What he did for you today was far from nothing, but you let it go, opting to turn your attention back to the cargo pants on the table before you. As you admire Daryl’s handiwork, you can’t help but hope that Daryl knows that Shane’s pocket isn’t the only thing he stitched back together today.

Taglist: 

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You have sand it places you don't want to think about. You shake off as much as you can as you approach the carrier plane. Sy greets the pilot as stretch your legs and shoulders. The drive was long and bumpy.

He approaches and points you into the cargo bay of the plane. You load in with the crates and sit on a metal bench mounted to the wall. He sits beside you and splits open the wrapper of a protein bar.

"I can't wait for a greasy burger and fries," you say as you grip the edge of the bench and lean on your arms.

"Yeah? All that healthy stuff ya buy me, I thought you'd be dyin' for a salad."

"Well, I wouldn't eat it every night but I do like to indulge," you hide a yawn in the crook of your elbow.

"How's 'bout you stretch out, Iz?"

The plane engines blast one and the big metal vessel shakes. You brace the bench tighter as the wheels taxi and you take off at a slow incline. You slide into Sy and he steadies you.

When you're level, you pull away. You may as well close your eyes, even if you don't sleep. You move your bag and rest your head on it as you stretch out.

You cross your arms and shake with the constant vibration.

You ease into the metal even if it hurts your hips. It'll be a few hours, then you'll be boarding an actual passenger line. You long for the cushion.

Suddenly, the bench is no longer between you as the plane bounces. You fly off against a crate as another crashes down on the other side of the cargo. You cry out at the shattering pain in your knees as you fly off the floor and hit the mounting bar of the bench directly on your cap.

You're kept from hurdling through the air once more as Sy latches on to and pulls you against him. He has you in his lap, panting as his chest presses to your back. You wheeze through your teeth as you reach for you knee and whimper.

"Izzie! You okay?" Sy hollers as the plane steadies.

"Urggggh, damn!" You shudder. "I-- I-- it hurts, god, it's..." you suck in air then bend over his arm. You vomit onto the floor as you feel the cracked bone rub together.

"Shit," he growls, "Iz."

He lifts you and turns you sit on the bench again.

"Hey, you idiots," he barks over his shoulder as he searches in his pack. "Assholes tryna do tricks or somethin'"

He wraps a cloth around your knee. Tight. He doesn't pau attention to the bile between his boots.

"Needa keep it from movin' too much," he helps lift your legs and angles to sit under them. "I got ya, Iz. Alright?"

You touches your wrist and you wipe your tears with your other hand. He has a gash above his cheek. You reach into your pocket and dig out the packet of tissues.

"You got..." you hold it out and wiggle it. "Blood on your cheek."

His brows draw together then he tuts and shakes his head. He takes the package and pulls out one of the tissues. He dabs his cheek.

"You worryin' 'bout me when you nearly flew all the way home yourself," he shakes his head and crumples the tissue. He tugs out another. "Iz, you got anyone worry about you?"

He unfolds a tissue and pats it against your chin. You're bleeding too. You lidt your head and look down. You have scratches all over your hands and a rip right through your shirt.

"I'll do my best," he avows. "You take it easy then. I got something for it."

He reaches in his vest and takes out a syrette. Before you can react, he jabs it into your thigh and squeezes. You gasp and groan then a heavy warmth spreads through you like a river over stone.

"Morphine," he says. "Takes the bite off."

"Sy," you murmur.

"You'll sleep a bit, okay? Any luck, when you wake up, the doc will be done fixing yer leg."

You hiss and heave. Before you can even think, the blackness speckles over you and blots out the world. The relief is only a dulled pain and oblivion.

🖤

When you wake, you're groggy. Your mouth is dry as cotton balls and your muscles are wound like springs. Your lashes stick as you try to clear the haze.

Your head feels loose on your neck. You see a cup. You're thirsty. You reach for it only to knock it off the table. You groan and drop your hand. There's a tube stuck to it.

"Iz," Sy startles you as he lumbers over. He looks tired. His shirt is sweat-stained and his eyes have bags.

"Sy, where--"

You try to sit up and nearly gag at the agony in your leg.

"Shattered knee cap. Remember, the plane..." he touches your shoulder and rubs gently. "I can get ya some more meds."

"No, no, I... I wanna be awake," you insist and fall back. "Damn it, Sy."

"I know, Iz. It hurts but doc says it should heal just fine--"

"Sy!" You proclaim as you throw your hands up. "How am I gonna work like this?" You sigh and shake your head. "I don't wanna go back to riding a desk."

"Huh? You-- I ain't gon' fire ya, Iz." He snorts.

"Why not? I'm caput," you mope. "How am I gonna jump outta planes or get you your awful tequila?"

"Ain't nothing you can't get over. Izzie, you're strong than most of the men I was in the shit with. Mind my language, but you'll be okay."

"I'm not okay," you cross your arms.

"Not right now but ya will be," he insists.

You look at him and furrow your brow, "since when did you become an optimist."

"Day I met you, sugar," he grins. "Now you let me get the doc, you gonna make it worst with all your squirming."

[passionwillow]

Here For The Long Haul - Dominique Luca

Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! ❤️

Summary: You’ve been dating Luca for a while, but he doesn’t know about your little girl. Until he does.

Warnings: age gap, not much else.

Late, late, late, you were running so late.

You should have already been out the door 20 minutes ago, but your babysitter was running behind and didn't seem to be coming anytime soon.

You sighed as you gently bounced your daughter Kayla, glancing on your phone and biting your lip. Should you call Luca? Cancel, delay the date?

It wasn't easy finding time for a date, a real night out with him. With his shifts and your job, most of the time you guys spent together was hanging at his place. Without Kayla.

Luca didn't know about your daughter. 6 months together and you kept her a secret. You knew it wasn't right but every relationship you tried to have since she was born never worked out. Guys were interested, but the second they knew you had a girl, they left.

Kayla was getting to the age she recognized people, grew attached, and you couldn't let her get hurt because of these guys. So when you met Luca, you kept her a secret. You had every intention of telling him, but as time went one and the relationship grew, you couldn't risk scaring him.

Even though there was quite an age gap between you and Luca, you both adored each other. You understood and supported his work, and he was your biggest cheerleader. But the idea of loosing him, him eventually leaving like all the others, worried you.

You snapped out of your daze when a knock sounded at your front door. A relieved sigh whooshed out of you and you hurried over, opening the door.

"Stacey, you were supposed to be here-" You cut off mid sentence as you looked at the man in front of you, heart stopping in your chest.

Luca.

He smiled bright as he saw you, hands tucked into his grey hoodie pockets and cargo pants hanging oh so nice on his hips. But his smile and blue eyes faltered as he took in your expression, eyes looking at the bubbly baby in your arms.

"Hey, baby. I thought I would.. Surprise you. Drive you to dinner instead of meeting there.. Who is this sweet little girl?" He smiled softly at your daughter, Kayla gazing at him curiously before breaking into a smile and giggling.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat and moved back from the door, motioning him to come inside. "This is Kayla. My.. daughter."

Luca hesitated before stepping inside and glanced around the living room, a few toys scattered on the floor and couch before he looked at you, eyes full of surprise and.. Hurt?

"You-.. Have a kid? Really?" You nodded and chewed at your bottom lip, your eyes finding anywhere to look but at him. Shame burned through you and you knew your cheeks were as red as your sweater. He stayed quiet for a moment, the surprise rendering him unusually quiet.

He moved over to your couch and took a seat, eyes studying you and your daughter as he rested his elbows on his knees. "So that's why you never let me over here.. Because you didn't want me to know?" His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to soothe your nerves. You stepped over and sat beside him, leaving more distance than you usually would, resting Kayla in your lap.

"I-.. was worried. How you would react, how you would take the news." He watched you carefully and furrowed his brows, glancing at Kayla and smiling a little. "What are you talking about? So you have a daughter, that isn't an issue. I love kids!"

You looked up from Kayla wiggling in your lap, a little relieved to see the smile and light come back to his face. "Sure, but.. Luca, ever since I had her and tried dating, guys just left. They didn't want anything to do with a kid. And you- you're busy and you're older and I was worried you wouldn't want to be bothered."

Luca's smile slowly fell as you spoke, and he shifted closer to you, his broad arm wrapping around your shoulders as he looked at the both of you. "Baby.. I can understand why you kept it from me, and I'm not mad about it. But.. I don't see any issue with it. She's your little girl, and I'm happy to be a part of her life. If you want me to be."

You leaned into his embrace and smiled at his words, shoulders finally dropping as you nodded and looked at Kayla, her eyes glued to Luca, filled with curiosity.

''You wanna hold her?" Luca grinned even bigger and nodded, his large hands carefully picking up your daughter and holding her up, his voice so soft and sweet you could have melted.

"Hey there, little one. I'm Luca." Kayla's eyes widen comically as she looked at the man holding her, her face suddenly breaking into a grin as she giggled and gurgled.

Luca laughed and set her down in his lap, and you finally felt a sense of security, for the first time in a long time. Snuggling closer to him, head on his shoulder, you spoke. "How about we eat in tonight. All of us together." He looked down at you and smiled wide, blue eyes shining as he nodded. "Sounds perfect to me."

[hybridhideoutstory]

CHAPTER 3

The first place Payton was that morning was in the hideout kitchen with Pattie at 6:30 sharp. The two of them were starting their punishment of the day after attempting to eliminate each other off the Hideout’s registry. Today the two of them were washing every dish left behind by the hybrids during breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. This was all basically 6:30am to 10:00pm, the only difference over the course of the day was what they had to clean off the plates. 

Payton had to wear a heavy and thick bonnet as to not get their purple paint hair wet, even if their horns poked out of it uncomfortably. They also had bright yellow rubber gloves that went up to their forearms. They wore a dirty apron that went down to their knees and the thickest clothes the hideout had in their supplies. They were sweating bullets, but instead of just looking shiny and smelling like rotten fish they started to look like a splash of rainbow colors and reeked of expo markers. Apparently their sweat had to be watercolor paint, of course it was. All Pattie had to wear was gloves, a hair net, and an apron over her normal clothes. Safe to say she didn’t understand Payton’s complaints about the heat. 

Their body was still aching from fight yesterday. They felt like they were going to fall over from the heat and the pain combined. 

Sometime in late evening one of the workers returned home early so Pattie and Payton were asked to run one of the cashier positions. It wasn’t much of a cashier as in collecting money, it was more like just take the order and tell the cooks. Pattie basically forced Payton to run it because according to her she couldn’t “do math” even if math wasn’t involved. That was fine by Payton, at least they weren’t at risk of death by wet. About ten minutes before they could go back to their room that evening a kid walked up to the counter and placed his arm smugly over the table like he owned the place.

“Good evening juvenile hybrid” 

“Wow… good to meet you too what the hell is your order…” 

The kid looked like an adolescent anthropomorphic Dumbo. He had the same ears of an elephant and teeth that stuck out of his mouth like tusks. He wore a red T-shirt and cargo shorts with so many pockets that Payton envied him. 

“I don’t want anything to eat really, just want you to know that this is what happens when ladies like you try to act like boys.”

“… what…”

“I mean, they put you two on dishwashing duties today for a reason! 

Payton stood there in a stunned silence for a moment “Um… sir, I’m not a woman 

“Oh so your one of those girls.” 

“What?”

“One of those girls who think they aren’t a girl, well that’s not what biology says. You girls gotta learn that your gender depends on what’s in your pants, not just something you can change Willy nilly for attention. Enjoy washing those dishes because I assume this punishment is going to happen again if you don’t fix your act. Good day young lady!” And just like that he walked away. 

“Who was that punk?” Pattie shouted from the back. 

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been here for like two days.” 

“I bet it was that Lucas kid” she said with a small amount of cheer

“Who?” 

“Lucas! Him and his sister are always tryna start fights in this place. They’re discourse hybrids.”

“Discourse hybrids? Wait wait so do the make people fight each other?” 

“Better, they make groups a people fight. They basically cause civil war. Which is awesome because it means more pain!” 

“Oh so you just like when people are in pain?” 

“Well yeah! I’m the pain hybrid! It’s all I do!” Pattie proclaimed with pride. 

“Well isn’t it lovely that we know each other” Payton said sarcastically. 

That night as Payton was sitting in bed they kept thinking about that Lucas kid and his apparent sister. What really bothered them was what Lucas said to them. His logic wasn’t much different than their parents, which was probably why it had really gotten under their skin. Whatever biology textbook he read certainly didn’t matter anymore, no one in the hideout was even fully human, that’s why they were there anyway! At least their gender, according to his logic, was “yellow paint” and not “girl”. That made them feel a little better. 

The next day was finally a day were they could do what they want, free of tours and chores. They took the elevator to areas they assumed Omf never had the time to show them because they had go beaten half ways through. They took a major liking to the art studio. It was gorgeous. Kids were quiet and mostly just listening to music while doing crafts, painting, sketching, and anything that could be a creative outlet. They sat on a table with another kid and set up their canvas. Now, what they really wanted to test was if they could paint with their tail. It was pretty wide but not to large, it was manageable. The sky blue color the studio had was amazing, not only was the color vibrant and exactly what they wanted, it also tasted like sweet cotton candy. 

“Excuse me?” Said the girl at the table. She looked to be the same age as Payton. She wore a blue turtleneck And had long brown hair. She had the ears of a donkey which made Payton think maybe she was the gold  hybrid or something, they knew some things about Greek mythology despite their Christian upbringing. The girl stared at her. 

“Are you enforcing the stereotype that art kids are gay?” She said with a hint of self righteousness 

“What? No? I just like to paint. It’s always been a pastime of mine.” 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh my god…” 

“HEY! That’s offensive to some Christian hybrids here who might not feel comfortable with you using the lords name in vain!”

“But…”

“No buts! I’m going to have to make a peaceful protest against you!” The donkey girl grabbed a nearby can of purple paint and dumped it onto Payton’s head. Their clothes weren’t stained as their body basically started to absorb it, but the extra paint caused their hair to suddenly grow really long. They hated that. Suddenly they heard a voice they recognized. 

“Good one sis!” Said Lucas, who was standing at the side of the table the whole time. “You really got her good.” 

“Hey, at least I’m peaceful about my views.”

Lucas sat down next to his sister. “Did ya know my sister Lela is an excellent hair stylist?” He asked Payton. “Of course, we couldn’t go too short, didn’t want you to look too boyish.” 

Payton could feel their body boiling, literally, the paint was bubbling off their skin. They got of from their seat and stormed out of the studio. 

Omf spotted Payton in the lobby of the hideout.

“Hey Pay Pay! :]>” he exclaimed. “Woah, where did you get the reverse haircut? :]” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” They stomped their foot. 

“Hey, your obviously grumpy stumpy on something! Why don’t ya tell me? I can keep secrets.” 

“It’s the discourse hybrids.”

His jaw would’ve fell off his face if it wasn’t attached to his face. “Sugar-cookie >:[, those guys are so rude to everyone for no reason! No wonder your so cranky!”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Maybe write it down in a journal?” Omf suggested. 

“OH MY GOSH!” Shouted Lela from across the lobby. Payton perked up in shock wondering how she and her brother got there so fast.

Lucas spoke up. “Are you really gonna journal? Didn’t you know that paper was invented in Foreign land? Not only that but it was invented in China! Which is a threat to our American civilization!”

“And!” Lela interjected. “Paper is made of trees! Do you support the countless trees that are constantly murdered so you can write your sorry little woes into a hideous journal? You! Paint person…”

“Paint girl…” Lucas stated mater of factly. 

“Right… you are one of the most offensive hybrids in this whole hideout! And everyone is going to know because I’m going to tell every one!” 

If Payton was bubbling before they were boiling by now. “What kind of nonsense reasoning are you just spitballing?! That makes no sense!” 

“It’s just facts!” The siblings said in unison. 

“THATS IT!” Payton screamed. “IM GONNA KILL YOU TWO!” 

“PAYTON!” Omf restrained them. “Please! Don’t let them get to you!  They’re trying to make you feel all angry and stuff!” 

Payton struggled against Omf while the siblings look on smugly, as if daring Payton to attack. 

“You’re really going to let these losers get away with nonsense?!” Payton shouted. 

“Please! I know it’s nonsense! That’s why you can’t give into it!” 

“Go on juvenile!” Egged on Lucas. “We all know your going to end up washing dishes again like a true lady!”

“SHUT! UP!” Payton growled. 

“You clearly plan on hurting my brother over here! I’m afraid I’m gonna have to rally up my friends and we’ll hold a peaceful protest to have you silently executed for your behavior. Don’t worry it’ll be an accident. I don’t do horrible stuff like that on purpose.” 

“YOU!…”

Omf covered their mouth before they could say anything that would get them cancelled by Lela. “Sorry fellow hideout residents!” He said apologetically. “Payton here is very new to the hideout and they are under a lot of stress! They don’t mean anything they say, it’s just the emotional pressure of it all!  I’m going to take them to a place where they can let go of all of that anger in a healthy way! Toodles! :]>” 

He quickly rushed them to the elevator.

Once he got Payton in the training dojo he let them go. 

“What’s wrong with you!? I was gonna give those two what they deserve!” 

“Payton no! You can go around solving everything with violence against others :[.”

“Says who your storybook?” 

“Payton :[,” he said pleadingly. “If you do what you think is the right thing in the moment your only going to make things worse for yourself. Your going to prove them right. That’s the worse thing you can do.” 

He grabbed a sword and pointed it to a dummy. 

“You see, this is how I take out my anger. I battle these dummies. Because they’re not real! They sure as heck can’t get hurt either. So what I do is just…” he sliced the dummies head clean off with the sword. “Let it out here. It might not work as well for you, but it works for me. So I think we should give it a try. How about That? :]” 

Payton looked at their hands, then back at Omf. They tried to think of the sharpest sword imaginable. The really wanted the nonsense to stop as soon as possible. They swung their hand and

Swish

Payton’s hand had sliced through the dummy like it was butter. 

“Woah!” Omf exclaimed. “Dude! Your hand turned into a super stelar sword! :0” 

“Yeah… I guess so. Can I go slice up the siblings with it now?” 

“NO NO NO NO! Absolutely not! That’s no way to handle this. Lets try slicing up a bunch of these dummies instead. Then if you feel better and apologize to the siblings for your behavior, I’ll put in a good word to Luna, okay?”

“Apologize?”

“I know, but it’ll make you better than those two, I promise.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Payton figured it would be nice to be on Luna’s good side after what happened yesterday. So they started slicing. 

Each dummy was like exterminating another one of their problems. The fact they would never see their family again? That dummy is gone. They’ll never see their friends and girlfriend again? That dummy looks like diced carrots now. They had to live with Lizard boy’s stupid and silly rules? That dummy isn’t even recognizable anymore. 

Even though they didn’t want to admit it, this massacre of potato sacks and stuffing was actually helpful. They felt like they were taking action. Even though they weren’t. Forty five minutes later they were sweating and perfectly relaxed. 

“So…” Omf approached them carefully. “How do you feel after all of… that…” 

“Okay I guess.” Payton said, out of breath. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes from you :]. In a few minutes I’m going to find Lela and Lucas so you can say sorry. Water?”

“NO!”

“Oh my gosh I’m sorry I’m sorry. I forgot. Hey, looks like you gave yourself a haircut too!” 

Payton looked in a mirror, sure enough, all the extra hair length they got from the bucket was gone. “Thank god.” They mumbled. 

A few moments later Payton found themself sitting at a cafeteria table with Omf, Lela, and Lucas. The siblings looked as smug as ever at the two of them. They were both expecting Payton to leap out and attack them. That meant they could become public enemy number one in the hideout, and that meant discourse would be high. “It’s going to be amazing” thought the siblings. 

“Well,” Omf broke the silence. “Tell them what you wanted to say.” 

“I’m sorry” Payton said. 

“WHAT?!” Both siblings shouted. 

“Look, I am under a lot of stress with being new and all, so I’m sorry if I offended you two. I’m just trying to do my best to comprehend everything.”

“But…” Lucas said. “You…” 

“Yeah I said some stuff I regret. And I’m sorry.” 

Lela perked up. “But your supposed to be mad…” 

“And I’m not.” 

Both of them were red in the face. “Yeah?” Lucas said. “I bet your parents don’t accept your pronoun nonsense!” 

“And I dealt with that feeling.” Payton said with a bit of pride. “I felt with all the feelings I’ve been experiencing over the past two days.” 

“But-.” 

Omf cut Lela off. “I think Payton got their point across. I think they need some time to themself now.” He turned to them, giddy and proud. “Let’s get you to your room :]” 

Now, Payton knew they didn’t mean any “sorry” that they said. Those kids probably deserved to be put In their place, but Payton didn’t do that. And for some reason, they felt good about that. They could’ve hurt those guys if they wanted to., but they didn’t. They didn’t allow themself to stoop down to a level that made them look just as bad as the siblings. Payton lounged in their bed. For some reason, they felt way more tired than usual. It was only 4PM, but they felt as tired as if it was 2 in the morning. “It’s probably the training.” They thought to themself. They then peacefully zoomed off to slumber. 

<<PREV (you are here) NEXT>>

[anotherpapercut]

I have these cargo pants I like to wear a lot with 6 very large pockets so I've always got a ton of random shit in them which I'll pull out at opportune moments to surprise people

so yesterday I went to hang out with a couple friends and when I got there we were talking about what we were gonna eat and I said I brought a sandwich and one of my friends was like "oh really?? you brought a sandwich?? then where is it???" so I reached down into one of my pockets and pulled out a pretty good sized sub and he just quietly said "......I hate those pants...."

[puddleorganism]

Pondering a new rancher au (yes the giant fucking bird is Jimmy) - rambling/explanation under the cut

[Image IDs:

ID 1: a digital drawing of Jimmy/SolidarityGaming and TangoTek, in which Jimmy is a massive approximately 20 foot/6 meter tall bird-like creature. He’s standing idly (to show off his design) with a nervous smile on his face. He has a long neck and long legs that make him look like a dinosaur, but he is covered in light golden-brown feathers and has wings. His wings are huge, the primaries/tips sticking out behind his back. They’re modeled after a turkey vulture’s wings. He’s got a grey hooked beak that is mostly covered in feathers. He’s also got long tail feathers that look just short of skimming the ground. His legs are dark grey with huge talons. All over his legs, wing tips, and tail feathers is a dark grey ash. Tango’s sitting cross-legged on his back/shoulders, hunched over and looking at one of those map books you usually have in your car. (Note: the next image is of Tango, so to avoid redundancy I’m going to describe his appearance better there.) /End ID 1

ID 2: a digital drawing of TangoTek, a humanoid with fire for hair and a long, thin tail tipped in fire; like how a lion’s is tipped with fur. He’s standing idly (again, to show off his design) with his hands in his pockets. He’s got light tan skin with freckles on his nose and wrist. He’s got what look to be black scales on his ears - which are long and pointed - cheeks and nose that have glowing orange cracks in them like burning wood. He’s wearing a red handkerchief over his nose and mouth and has red-tinted goggled pushed up on his forehead. He’s wearing an off-white sweater, a worn leather jacket with red accents, grey cargo pants and black boots. He also has a pale gold and brown messenger bag slung over his left (the viewer’s right) shoulder and back behind his arm. He’s also got two scuffed, worn pins on his jacket; a small, round yellow one and a tiny polyamory flag. He’s also covered in ash - even more so than Jimmy - to the point where his boots, sweater, and handkerchief are stained with it, and are almost more grey than their original colors.

ID 3: simple digital sketches of the above characters. From left to right they are: Jimmy laying down with his head bowed, and Tango standing on his tiptoes to lean against Jimmy’s head. Both their eyes are closed and their foreheads are pressed together. The next is of Tango with his goggles on and looking confused at the map book, which is folded in half in his hands. Jimmy is leaning over his shoulder to look at the map as well. Two question marks float by Tango’s head. The last is of Jimmy standing upright, one of his talons held up near his chest. In his talons he’s holding Tango who seems surprised and is kind of doing that thing that cats do when you pick them up under the arms. This sketch is captioned with the word “hold”. There’s also a small bit of wing from a drawing that’s been cropped out in the corner. /End ID 3

/End IDs]

Ok rambling time!

So it’s set in a that was similar to the modern day, but after in a post-apocalyptic world (recent enough that they both would’ve known the world before). Not a zombie apocalypse or anything, though. There may be Foes but probably not.

I’m not exactly sure what the apocalypse that happened actually is yet, but it’s left the world an ash-covered wasteland with few ruins and even fewer survivors (survivors being organisms in general, not just humans). I want the landscape to be kind of surreal and bizarre, but I haven’t decided if that’s because of the apocalypse or not. Maybe it was just Like That lol.

Anyway, one thing you may want to know more about, is why the hell is Jimmy a giant bird? And the answer is: I like giant birds. In all seriousness though, he’s cursed! Don’t know why. He was a normal ass dude. Now he’s a bird.

Tango might also be cursed? Depends on how edgy I end up wanting this to be lol. He might be an undead wraith or something who knows.

[bleue-flora]

Was gonna do everyone, but I'm feeling lazy so here's what I got so far for the playdate au character details:

Name - Make Believe Name(s) - Age - Favorite Color - Physical Appearance - Other

Phil - Philza, Dadza - 16 - dark green - greenish blue eyes, gingerish blond hair - when he decides to go outside and play with the kids he tends to wear a silly looking striped hat (mostly though he tends to stay inside and text his girlfriend, Kristen)

Wilbur - WilburSoot (or also Ghostbur, Revivebur) - 13 - Blue - pretty fit and tan (because he’s on the school’s swim team), tall and lanky, brown hair and eyes - almost always wears his colonial style hat and when it’s cold enough his favorite yellow sweater

Sam - Awesamdude, Sam, Sam-nook, The Warden - 12 - green - naturally light brown hair he dyed green, brown eyes - has glasses, wears yellow tee-shirt and green cargo pants that he fills the pockets of with all kinds of handy tools and things, including rocks that he loves to collect, has a fake ruby necklace he loves to wear as well as his crown

Clay - Dream - 11 - lime green - green eyes, dirty blond hair - as he’s autistic he wears comfy clothes only like gym shorts and soft tee-shirts for example and hoodies when it’s cold enough (he will not be caught dead in jeans), used a paper plate with a smile on it to jump scare Tommy once and now it’s his Dream aesthetic

Luke - Punz - 11 - blue - bright blond hair and blue eyes - has a gold necklace he never takes off, his ears are pierced with some gold studs,, his favorite outfit is his ripped black jean shorts and white tee-shirt

Alex - Quackity - 10 - Red - dark brown eyes and black hair, kinda more short stubby - him and his family are mexican, tends to wear classic dark blue and black and doesn’t mind getting dressed up for the occasion, always wears a beanie though, carries a pack of candy cigarettes he pretends to light with a lighter he found, tends to carry a deck of cards and his dad’s old pocket knife, knows a little more than a kid should, has a little scar over his lip from falling face first that Techno turned into a whole lore point

Alexander - Technoblade - 9 - red - blue eyes and dirty blond hair though he tried to dye it an edge red to be cool and it turned out pink instead - he loves to wear his red cape and crown all the time, someone once called him a pig because of his pink hair and after that he added pig ears and nose to his Technoblade look, he also often is seen riding his stick horse steed named Carl, he has glasses that George often steals

Mark - Ranboo - 8 - purple - brown hair, green eyes and super tall and lanky - entire wardrobe is black with lots or variations of black and white, often see with sunglasses and face mask on to be mysterious and of course his crown

Nick - Sapnap - 7 - Orange - brown eyes and unkempt hair that’s just long enough to be annoying that he keeps out of his eyes with his white ninja headband - favorite outfit is black athletic shorts or pants with a flame themed shirt, when it’s cold he’ll wear the same shirts just with a long sleeve black shirt underneath, often carriers around a katana and pretends to be a stealthy ninja

Karl - Karl Jacobs - 7 - purple - light brown hair and blue eyes - when it’s cold he loves to wear his iconic hoodie, he wears lots of fun colors and patterns like the stereotypical stylish gay guy, he has a old stopwatch he likes to carry around

Thomas - Tommy, Tommyinnit - 6 - red - blond hair, blue eyes, tall (for his age) and lanky - likes to wear khaki and that two toned classic tee-shirt, often see with red bandana around his next like some western outlaw and appropriate red devil horns

Toby - Tubbo - 6 - green - bright blond hair and blue eyes - Niki gave him bumble bee barrettes he wears to keep his bangs out of his eyes, he’s very attached to his stuffed pig, can be found wearing cuffed jean shorts or sometimes overalls

George - Gogi - 5 - light blue -  brown eyes and messy hair - always carries around his mushroom patterned blanky, likes wearing his favorite iconic blue shirt and jeans

Current families developed in age order:

Dream, Techno, Sapnap, George

Phil, Wilbur (and surely Fundy needs to be the youngest)

Purpled, Quackity, Slimecicle

Punz, Vikk and Lazar (4 year old twins)

(Ya know based off appearances alone maybe Tubbo and Tommy should be twins?…)

 Others TBD...

[aummfashion]

10 Stylish Ways to Rock Ladies Cargo Pants for Every Occasion

Cargo pants have evolved from their military origins into a must-have fashion staple for women. Ladies cargo pants offer the perfect mix of comfort, utility, and style, making them ideal for casual outings, office wear, and even date nights. Whether you prefer a relaxed streetwear vibe or a polished, chic look, cargo pants can be styled in multiple ways to suit any occasion. Let’s explore ten stylish ways to wear them.

1. Casual Cool with a Basic Tee

For an effortless everyday look, pair your ladies cargo pants with a classic white or graphic tee. Add sneakers and a crossbody bag to complete the laid-back vibe. This outfit is perfect for running errands or casual meet-ups.

2. Chic and Sophisticated with a Blazer

Take your cargo pants to a whole new level by pairing them with a structured blazer and a fitted top. Opt for neutral-toned cargo pants with a sleek blazer and ankle boots for a smart-casual office look or a business lunch.

3. Sporty Vibes with a Crop Top

For an athletic and trendy aesthetic, wear your cargo pants with a crop top and chunky sneakers. This combination highlights your waistline while keeping you comfortable and stylish throughout the day.

4. Edgy Streetwear with an Oversized Hoodie

If you love street-style fashion, pair your ladies cargo pants with an oversized hoodie. Add combat boots or chunky sneakers and accessorize with a beanie or sunglasses for an effortlessly cool look.

5. Feminine Flair with a Fitted Bodysuit

Balance out the loose silhouette of cargo pants with a fitted bodysuit. This outfit is perfect for a date night or a girls’ night out. Finish the look with heels or strappy sandals and minimal accessories.

6. Retro Vibes with a Denim Jacket

Give your cargo pants a vintage touch by wearing them with a cropped or oversized denim jacket. Pair with a simple tank top and retro sneakers for a nostalgic yet trendy ensemble.

7. Monochrome Magic

A monochrome outfit always looks sleek and stylish. Pair your cargo pants with a matching top and jacket in the same color palette. Opt for earthy tones like beige, olive green, or black for a minimalist and high-fashion feel.

8. Elegant Touch with a Button-Down Shirt

Transform your cargo pants into an elegant outfit by pairing them with a crisp button-down shirt. Tuck in the shirt, add a belt, and wear classic pumps or loafers for a polished, office-appropriate look.

9. Layered for Winter Warmth

During colder months, style your ladies cargo pants with a turtleneck, a long trench coat, and knee-high boots. This outfit keeps you warm while maintaining a fashionable and structured appearance.

10. Boho Chic with a Flowy Top

For a relaxed, bohemian-inspired look, pair your cargo pants with a flowy blouse or peasant top. Add strappy sandals, layered jewelry, and a woven bag for a festival-ready outfit.

Final Thoughts

Ladies cargo pants are incredibly versatile, making them an essential piece for every woman’s wardrobe. Whether you prefer casual, edgy, or sophisticated styles, these pants can be adapted to fit any occasion. Experiment with different tops, shoes, and accessories to create unique outfits that express your personality.

How do you like to style your cargo pants? Let us know in the comments!

[elliesmainhoe]

Abby Anderson Headcanons: Werewolf!Abby

This woman is feral.

Lives completely self-sustained in the middle of the woods.

You met werewolf!abby on a hike, trying to get away from the city and connect with nature.

What you weren't expecting was to get lost. At night. On a unknown hiking trail.

Shit.

But not to worry- our favorite muscly blonde to the rescue.

She finds you laying down In the dirt at 2am wearing only a thin rain coat, some cargo pants and walking boots.

It was cold when you fell asleep. So why the fuck was it warm when you woke up?

Your eyes flickered open, not to the sight of blue sky like you were expecting but to a wooden paneled ceilings. You quickly shot up, sitting upright in suprise on the squishy red sofa you'd been laid on and a knitted cable knit blanket thrown over your sleeping figure.

The sound of heavy footsteps approached the enclosed living room, your hands searching your pants for the concealed pocket knife you'd stashed in case of emergencies.

Creak.

The door opened. You thought your abductor was going to be a muscular, hairy, angry looking man with a deep voice and harsh words.

But it's seemed fate was kind to you- I stead there was a 6 foot tall blonde hunk, muscles shaped by the gods- and a woman. Shit.

"Mornin' sleepy head- made you pancakes!"

Like I said TALL ABBY. MOUNTAIN ABBY. 6FT ABBY.

Wolf? Nah she's a shitzu.

She's the most hyper, happy enthusiastic person ever.

Her metaphorical and literal tail is wagging at the speed of light behind her.

Buying her dog toys as a joke. Her being annoyed and rolling her eyes with a sappy smile.

You later find her in her wolf form with the squeaky rubber bone you'd bought her lmao

Speaking in a baby voice to her when she's in her wolf form.

You knew Abby was wondering around the cabin before you could actually see her. The pitter patter of her paws against the floorboards alerting you that she was out on the prowl.

"Abbs?" You call out from the living room, and before you knew it a ball of grey fur bolted next to you onto the couch.

"Hiya baby~" you coo- pecking her snout affectionately, hand moving through her fur and scratching behind her ears. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth happily- panting with a stupid Wolfy smile.

Chases her tail. Idc. when she's in her wolf form- she's a puppy.

Very territorial.

Does not like when people hike on the trail she found you on.

Everyone is a threat to you.

Your hers and she's yours <33

------------

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @prettypeoniesx @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality8 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm @hi2647

[ysljoon]

Love Maze-Chapter 2

pairing: single dad!simon 'ghost' riley x live-in nanny!reader wc: 1.3k warnings: none for this chapter a/n: this chapter was a little slow BUT we made some progress eeee im so excited to go from here yall 🫣 MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked) <prev chpt. >next chpt.

You stare at your apartment triumphantly once you see everything packed away. You lugged your suitcase out the door and now you’re on your way back to the Riley household. You were curious about Ella’s father. He was a very hard man to read and didn’t seem like a man for much conversation. Hopefully, you could bring down the walls he’s set up and get closer to him because to live with someone who appears unapproachable seems awkward to say the least. Yes, you’re there for the child first and foremost, but it would be nice to get to know him outside of being your employer.

Also the mask? What is that about? That should’ve raised more red flags in your mind, but the opportunity seemed too great to be able to look over that. He seems to be hiding a lot, but maybe he just needs time to warm up.

You showed up at 8 a.m. on the dot and knocked on the door. You distracted yourself with the pleasant dewy weather of the morning while you waited for Simon to answer the door. The door swung open faster than you expected and you had to dodge it at the last second to avoid it hitting you square in the face. Simon gave you a gruff ‘good morning’ and moved out of the way to let you inside. He still had on the black surgical mask, but his attire was a jarring difference in comparison to the first encounter. He had on blue cargo pants with harnesses hugging his thighs and a zipped-up blue windbreaker. Ella was held against his hip with one hand and the other hand had a black vest in the other. You were well aware that he was military personnel, but you didn’t think you would be acquainted with that side of him so soon. 

You rolled your suitcase in behind you and awkwardly stood in his kitchen while waiting for him to give you further instructions. He placed Ella down in her bouncer and leaned against the counter across from you. His eyes looked bored when looking at you and there wasn’t really an emotion you could use to describe it, but it didn’t feel good to see the least. “I just fed Ella her morning bottle. The formula is in the cabinet over there.” He pointed above your head behind you. “And all bottles are in the dishwasher. Feed her about every 3 hours or whenever she’s feeling fussy.” 

He tilts his head to the side to indicate to follow him and you do. He takes you to her nursery and it is very bare bones of a nursery. It has all the essentials with a crib, a dresser equipped with a changing table and baby monitor on top, a black suede rocking chair, and a trash bin. “In the dresser is where all the diapers and wipes are stored. The top drawer has all of her binkies,” He crouches down to the lowest drawer. “Here’s an extra baby monitor. I already have one in my room so keep it on your bedside table.” You nodded, taking mental notes of all the information he was giving you. He wordlessly walks out of the room and takes you across the hall. “This is the spare room, make yourself at home. The closet should have enough space, but if you need more just let me know and the bathroom is attached.” You gave him a grateful smile. 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Simon.” He gave you only a grunt in acknowledgment of your words. “I’m heading to work now, since we’re in a lull right now I should be home around 6 pm. Text me if you need anything. If you don’t hear from me within the hour contact my captain. His name is John Price.” He handed you a small square of card stock with John’s name and number scribbled on it. You reached for your phone immediately out of your pocket to input the number. Simon gave you one last look over before heading out the door and you bid him one last farewell. You made your way to the living room and looked at Ella with a fond expression. “Well, Ella it’s just me and you now.”

The day moved along swiftly. It was easy to turn on your caregiver mode, but you did do some quick online shopping when Ella was having her afternoon nap as it came to your attention quite quickly that there was a scarcity of baby toys for her to play with. Ella was an easy baby though she was rarely very fussy and during diaper changes, you were able to keep her distracted enough to have her giggling. The sounds of her laughs had you wrapped around her finger. She was an adorable little girl. 

Once 4 pm rolled around you decided to scour Simon’s cupboards to see what you could cook for dinner when he comes home from work. His pantry was scarce and you made a mental note to visit the grocery store tomorrow. You were able to scrape together a garlic chicken pasta for dinner and once that was done you let it sit on the burner on a low heat to keep it warm as it was only a few minutes until Simon was home. You made your way back to Ella to scoop her out of her bouncer that you kept her in while you were cooking, bounced her on your hip and sang lullabies to her. Her wide little eyes stared at you and observing her face made you realize how her eyes were identical to Simon’s. You weren’t sure how the rest of her facial features compared to Simon’s as he kept it concealed. 

The door knob jiggled and the jangling of keys alerted both you and Ella to the arrival of Simon coming back home. Suddenly Ella started getting squirmy in your arms and wanted to be held by her dad. He quickly shuffled at the front door putting down his belongings and kicking off his boots. He made his way over to you and scooped Ella out of your arms and cradled her in his strong, muscular ones. “How was she today?” “She was great, barely fussy at all! Oh, I made dinner by the way so whenever you’re ready to eat I can dish it out for us.” Simon did smell the aroma of food in the air, but he thought you only cooked enough for yourself he didn’t expect you to cook for him. He also noted how you said us instead of just him. He wasn’t used to someone being this nice to him since he joined the 141 and the task force tried their best to welcome Simon. This was definitely something to get used to. 

“I’ll take a shower first and then we can eat. If you’re hungry now though you can eat without me. You waved him off and told him you’d be fine waiting for him. He doesn’t strike you as someone who has an extensive shower routine. You sat on the couch with Ella accompanying you by your feet just crawling around and found a cartoon for her to enjoy on the TV.

Simon came out of the bathroom in 10 minutes flat with his blonde hair damp and-oh. Simon was standing in front of you without the mask and wow. You couldn’t understand why he covered up his face. He is handsome, to say the least. You averted your gaze and cleared your throat making your way to the kitchen. You silently plated servings for the both of you and Simon silently was by your side getting the utensils. Dinner was uneventful as Simon didn’t have much to say and you could see it in his face that he was tired so you didn’t want to bother him too much. Simon said he’ll wash the dishes since you cooked and you nodded. He wished you a goodnight and you made your way into your room to get ready for bed. The first day of the job is done and you would think it went pretty successfully. You couldn’t help thinking about Simon’s face until your eyes became heavy with sleep. 

[jazminrhode1]

Hey Google, Play 'Begin Again' Matt Sturniolo x Reader One Shot

Summary: You go on your first date with Matt after a bad breakup.

Word Count: 1648 words

You took a deep breath as you looked in the rearview mirror. It had been 6 months since you broke up with your ex and you still didn’t feel ready to get back into dating. Your best friend Taylor reminded you that Matt was a great guy and that you would have fun. You were doing this for her.

You parked around the corner from the cafe where you were going to meet and took your time as you walked over. Your ex was incapable of being anywhere on time and that was the standard that you held for all men. You wouldn't put it past Matt if he didn’t show up at all. Men sucked. You were certain of that.

As you walked past the window toward the door you could see Matt sitting inside, waiting. You had met a couple of times but, you never realized just how attractive he was. He was wearing a Let’s Trip t-shirt, some black cargo pants, and a backward cap. You sent Taylor a quick text before you went inside. “Here goes nothing...” was all it said.

Matt looked up when the bell chimed as you entered. He stood and waved - a charming grin on his face. For a Saturday afternoon, the cafe was pretty empty. Instead of a murmur of incoherent chatter, you could have listened to every conversation if you really wanted to.

As you walked over to him, he welcomed you with a hug and pulled out a chair for you to sit down. You could tell that he had no idea just how nice that was; how much you appreciated it.

“It’s so great to see you, y/n” he started as he sat opposite you. His small talk was endearing, his stories were funny and you felt guilty for having come prepared with 3 or 4 excuses in case you had to make a swift exit.

“I haven’t ordered. What can I get you?” he asked. You insisted on ordering for yourself. If this was going to go south like all the other first dates Taylor set you up on since the breakup, you didn’t want to give him anything to use against you.

As you stood in line and scanned the menu, you saw him reach into his pocket. You thought he was pulling his phone out to text a friend or scroll through Instagram but, he was only pulling his card out of his phone case. Another point for Matthew Sturniolo.

It was times like this that you realized how much your scumbag of an ex fucked you up. Matt was nice, anyone would have told you that but still, you assumed he had bad intentions.

As you stood in the line, he kept sneaking glimpses of you. You couldn't help yourself from blushing a little bit, he almost convinced you that he was happy to be there. “Taylor said your favorite drink was a pink drink,” he said. “I’m not that basic” you replied, kind of offended. He was still smiling as he nudged you playfully. “I’m not gonna lie, they’re pretty good,” he assured you.

He was right. They were pretty freaking good and it was your favorite drink but, to avoid looking like a basic bitch, you just ordered yourself an iced coffee.

When you both had your drinks, you headed back to the table and he pulled out your chair once again. You weren’t sure if this was all an act but, you wanted to believe this was just who he was.

He surprised you. You had seen a couple of his videos and spoken to him in passing from time to time but, you didn’t really know all that much about him. The guy in front of you wasn’t the shy, reserved triplet you saw on YouTube and all over your TikTok. He was charismatic, and his stories were funny and you were taken aback by how kind he was even when he made fun of his brothers.

He asked you about your job, your family, and the places you'd traveled to recently. He told you about his parents and what it was like growing up as a triplet. He seemed to have a laundry list of stories about shit he did as a kid and what they had been up to in LA. All of the stories that you had to share involved the boy who broke your heart 6 months ago and you didn’t think now was the time to bring him up.

He looked into your eyes and smiled, you didn't realize how blue they were. You could tell he was searching for something. Wondering why, perhaps, you were a little reserved. He didn't push it or hold it against you. You appreciated that.

“What do you do for fun?” he said, leaning forward to show his interest.

“Oh… Um… I read a bit,” you said. You knew enough about the triplets to know that they did not read and you were keen to change the conversation before he completely turned off of you.

To your surprise, he replied, “My Mom loves reading. Maybe you have a recommendation for her?”

You were floored. Your ex never showed interest in any of your hobbies let alone your book obsession. He never made an effort to remember your birthday let alone ask for a book recommendation for his mom. Though you weren’t quite ready to accept it, you thought that Matt might be different from the others.

You told him about the three books you had already read that month. He seemed interested and genuinely excited to hear more about them. He propped his elbow on the table, chin in his palm, and listened to you word vomit for almost half an hour.

“Shit,” you said as you looked at your phone. “What?” he asked, confused.

“I didn’t realize the time” you commented. He looked at the clock on the wall, “I guess we're just having a good time” he responded.

Not a waste of time. Not a boring time. He was having a ‘good’ time and so were you.

You figured it was time to let him talk so, you asked the question. “What do you do for fun?”

Excitement changed his whole demeanor. “Do you play Pokemon Go?” he asked. Something childlike and enchanting came over him.

You shook your head slowly and couldn't hold back a laugh. You weren’t laughing at him, you were amazed at how comfortable he was just being himself. That was something that you began to admire about him.

As you tried to stop laughing you let out a snort. Fuck. Your face turned bright red as you clapped your hand over your mouth and nose. He was laughing too. Not at you but, with you.

“I’m so embarrassed,” you said. You couldn’t hide it. “Don’t be,” he reassured you as he reached out and rubbed her arm comfortingly. You made some joke to cover up your humiliation and he threw his head back laughing. Your ex never thought you were funny.

As the cafe employee came over to clear the table you realized that you had been here nearly 5 hours. The time flew by and you didn’t even need to whip out one of your carefully curated excuses to leave. But, you did have to go. You had work in the morning and you lived all the way on the other side of LA.

Matt waved at the employees as he followed you out. “Thanks, guys, see you next time,” he said. Another thing that your ex would have never ever done. You knew that he had noticed you were a bit more reserved than usual and you contemplated explaining yourself. You didn’t know how much Taylor had told him and you didn’t want him to think you were rude. Especially since you had a great afternoon with him.

“Let me walk you to your car,” he said. Before you could explain or apologize, he started telling you about the series that he and his brothers were watching on Netflix. It was something with police or cars or a cartoon - you had no interest but, he was getting really into it.

When you got to your car, he looked disappointed. You were too. For the first time in 6 months, you had enjoyed someone’s company. You had barely thought about your ex and it was all thanks to him. Even if this didn't go anywhere, you were thankful to have spent this time with him.

“I had a really great time, y/n, I'm glad we got to link up,” Matt said. There it was again. No games, no bullshit. He said what he felt with such ease, that it caught you off guard.

“I had a great time too,” you replied.

You both stood there awkwardly for a second before he opened his arms and pulled you into a hug. “We should do it again sometime,” he said as he stepped back and buried his hands into his pockets, “you have my number. Let me know when we can hang out again.”

He smiled. For the first time since your breakup, maybe even longer, you felt butterflies swarm your stomach. You blushed as you turned to get in the car. He waited to wave goodbye as you pulled out of your spot. You could see him waving in your rearview mirror as you drove away.

On the drive home, you couldn’t help but think about Matt, not your ex but, Matt. For the last 6 months, you thought all relationships brought were pain and heartache and that all men were the same. But, Matt may have begun to change your mind.

As you pulled into your driveway, Taylor was blowing up your phone. A smile spread across your face. This was going to be the first time in a while that you’d be filling her in on a boy that you liked, a boy who treated you well and who was kind, and who was not the idiot that broke your heart.