#I took these photos on my phone FROM my laptop

[sour-snail]

I WOULD GIVE MY FIRSTBORN CHILD FOR MORE DENDE CONTENT P L E A S E

[pendularium]

"Are we still sisters?"

arcane (2021-2024) // the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald

[snakesandstone]

✍ the thirteenth doctor or your version of Angrboda, three cheers for the girlies <3

The girlies ever!!! I have not watched thirteens run yet but from what I gather this is how it goes

[maraschinotopped]

felt myself going insane in real time so to counteract it i decided to doodle reclusa from the oneshot(?) i said i was writing. on a chromebook instead of using the very functional tablet i have lying right next to me.

[snixx]

people who come to me the night before an assignment is due and expect me to either send them my code i spent 12 hours working on or sit next to them and verify each line of code as they write it i hope you die bye <3

[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[lieslab]

I love you

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Summary: When the public finds out you're dating your boyfriend, the fans have a lot to say.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 4.7K

A/N: I have to admit, to whomever requested this, I made this a lot more fluffy and lighthearted than I was originally going to. Some of these are a little more serious than others, but I layered a few jokes in, so I hope it makes you laugh. No matter if you date a k-pop idol or not, some opinions of people are just that; opinions (stupid and irrelevant) Live your best life and do what makes you happy <3

_ _ _

Chan: 

“I could really use some inspiration,” Chan called over his shoulder. “So if you find yourself growing bored or getting cold or-” 

“Not interested,” you mumbled. You took another sip of your drink and continued scrolling through your phone. You didn’t bother to look up when you responded. 

Ever since Dispatch released a photo of you and Chan, the fandom was in shambles. Half of them were defending you and the other half was planning ways to end your life. Chan told you to ignore what people said, but it was about impossible to ignore when your social media accounts were being bombed every few seconds.

Every refresh sent new hate tweets and every time you opened Instagram, you were tagged in more and more photos. You had to turn off your Insta comments because they were flooded with hate. Ever since it happened, you’d been glued to your phone. Every new hate comment was another chip at your heart. 

Chan was sitting at his laptop and working on stringing the vocals of another song together. Most of the song was being arranged by another producer, but he wanted the beginning to sound a certain way. Chains clanked, a certain whistle sounded, and then the bass dropped. 

He’d been working at it for over an hour and he was expecting you to come curl into his lap like you usually did, but as time went on, you stayed behind him on the studio couch. He tried to focus, but it was driving him insane, he just wanted you for five minutes. You were too busy with your nose in your phone to notice. 

He finally shut his laptop, stretched his arms above his head, and he let out a groan. He leaned back and kicked his feet to push him away from the desk. At any time, you’d take notice, rush over, and practically jump on him, but you didn’t. 

He waited five seconds and then ten. Thirty trickled into forty and then he scraped his foot along the floor to face you. “Okay, what’s got you so obsessed that you can’t even look at me? You’ve been on your phone for so long. Did you find someone else to replace me?” 

You finally glanced over at his voice. Your head slightly shook and you hesitated, but clicked your phone off. “I haven’t, but maybe you should find someone else to replace me. The fans are saying that you’re out of my league.” 

“Those that are saying that aren’t my fans. Those are cunts that will-” 

“You can’t call your fans cunts, Chan.” 

“It’s the Aussie way!” 

“It’s the way to get your ass in trouble if management hears you.” 

“And that’s why they’re not here and it’s just us.” He opened his arms and sat back in his chair. “Come here. Come give me the love that I deserve. Let me love you.” 

Your face softened as you stared at him. His hands clinked as he made grabby hands in your direction. “Come on! You know you want me. You want me soooo bad.” 

“You’re a child, I swear.” You let your phone lay, placed your beverage on the coffee table, and headed over to him. 

He giggled, wrapped his arms around your waist, and jerked you onto his lap. You barely had time to understand it before you were straddling his lap. He cooed and squeezed you tightly as he slightly rocked back and forth in the chair. 

“Who’s the cutest of them all? You are. Who’s the prettiest and the best? You are.” 

“You’re talking to me the exact way you talk to Berry.” 

“And that’s why I know that you secretly love it. You always get cuteness aggression when I do that, don’t you?” He reached up and gently squeezed your cheeks in his hands. A baby voice slipped out and his dimpled smile grew. 

You couldn’t help, but burst into laughter as the tip of his nose bumped yours and he gently tickled the sides of your torso.  _ _ _ 

Minho: 

“Are you praying or meditating?” Minho asked as he joined you at the breakfast table. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast was sat down in front of you. “You should finish quickly, preferably before your food gets cold.” 

Your hands were clenched tight and you sat straight up in the wooden chair. Your nostrils flared as you sucked in a deep breath through your nose and let it out through your mouth. Your eyes remained shut as you finally spoke. 

“I’m sending out a message to whatever grand and divine divinity is listening out there.” 

“That’s new for you.” He grabbed a fork and scooped up a pile of yellowed eggs. “So enlighten me, what made you find religion at seven in the morning?” He took the bite and began to chew. 

“May God give me the strength to not tell Minho’s fans to sit on my middle finger and swivel.” 

He stopped chewing and his eyes grew wide. Your own eyes opened and met him. For a brief moment, the two of you held eye contact. It was quickly ruined by Minho’s bubbly laughter turning into a choke. Bits of half-chewed scrambled eggs hit your face and your look of disgust only made him laugh harder. 

He swallowed the remnants, grabbed his napkin, leaned over the table, and wiped the moist bits away. “I’m so sorry, but you shouldn’t have said that while I was chewing. You could have waited until I swallowed.” 

“This is their fault too.” 

“What could they have possibly done to make you so enraged at this early in the morning?” 

“One of your so-called fans went viral on TikTok. Take a guess as to why that was.” Your arms crossed over your chest and you scowled. 

“Why?” 

“Because they lurked on my Instagram and found a post that I posted two years ago. You know how I regularly volunteer at the animal shelter?” He hummed softly. “Well, they found that post and they found the caption where I admitted that I was a dog person!” 

“And?” 

“They’re ripping me to shreds for it! They’re claiming that we’re not compatible because I’m a dog person! Who does that? And they’re all on TikTok like-” Your voice grew high-pitched as you began to mock the comments that you recounted in your head. 

He stared at you and a fond smile appeared on his face. Too engaged in your discourse, you didn’t realize how silly you sounded. You went on and on and on until he stopped you. “Are you done yet?” 

You huffed and threw yourself back in your seat. “Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.” 

“Definitely a dog person. If a cat person was in your situation, we just would have posted photos with more cats to piss them off more.” 

“You’re not helping.” 

“I didn’t ever imply I was going to help the situation. That’s called comedy. I might go on Bubble and agree with them. What about that?” 

You glared at him and all he could do was chuckle. Without missing a beat, your middle finger went up. “Sit and swivel.”

“You first, sweetheart.” 

_ _ _ 

Changbin: 

“And you know what they say,” Changbin whispered as his eyes drooped. “A chicken breast a day keeps the muscles swole and slay.” Half asleep, his words turned into utter nonsense. 

Meanwhile, your hands were on your cheeks in the bathroom attached to your bedroom. With the door wide open, you weren’t really paying attention to his words. You were focused on pulling your eyebrows up and pushing your nose down. 

“Changbin?” 

“No, Hyunjin hasn’t bought me my diamond ring yet.” 

“Huh?”

He blinked and jerked upright in bed. His sleepy eyes found you leaning against the bathroom door frame with a frown on your face. “What did you say?” 

“I called your name. Do my facial features look weird to you? Ever since the news broke about us dating, they keep calling me ugly. That’s the one prominent thing they keep commenting on.” 

You glanced back to the bathroom mirror with a deepened frown. “Are my eyebrows the issue?” You stepped back inside, stood to the side, and sighed. A finger brushed down the slope of your nose. “Maybe that’s the issue?” 

“No, Felix, you can’t crawl in my muscles and live inside of them forever.” 

Your eyebrows narrowed as you jerked your head back to the room. Changbin’s head tipped down to his chest and his messy black hair sat in every direction. “What did you say about Felix?” 

He groaned, his head jerked up, and he rubbed his eyes. “What about the fans?” 

“They keep calling me ugly.” 

“WHAT?” He kicked and scrambled, nearly tangling within the blankets trying to get up. The sound of a loud thud sent you running back to the entrance to check on him. 

When you peered around the frame, he was pushing himself off the floor. “No, no, no!” Both of his fingers wagged as he marched in your direction. “I won’t stand for that kind of nonsense! Ugly? Maybe their personalities are ugly and just plain RUDE.” 

“But they keep-” 

“Nuh-uh.” He placed a hand on your hip and spun you around to face the bathroom. “I don’t care what they say. They’re not dating you and that means that their opinions are irrelevant.” 

He bent down and scooped you up. Your arm went behind your head and you allowed him to carry you back to bed. He bent down, pulled down the blankets, and gently laid you down. “The two of us are going to bed because we’re sleepy and you know what?”

“What?” 

“When people are sleepy, the opinions of others start to matter.” He pulled the sheet over you and then a blanket. “We don’t like when that happens, do we?” His head shook. “No we don’t, so we get some sleep.” 

“Are you gentle parenting me, right now?” 

 “Shush.” He patted the top of your forehead fondly and added another blanket. Another blanket was followed by a final blanket and he stood back to take in the scene. 

You were covered up your chin with all the heavy bedding. He nodded, walked towards you, and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “And what do we do when we’re sleepy and the opinions of others start to affect us?” 

“We go to sleep, I think.” 

“Do you know why?” 

Your head shook. 

“Because we don’t take criticism from people that we’d never go to for advice. That includes meaningless conversations online from faceless accounts. Sleeping also helps reset the brain, so when we can wake up, we can feel fresh and rejuvenated.” 

“I like that quote.” 

He hummed, walked around the bed, and crawled next to you. A hand shifted beneath your back and he tugged your body against his. “I like that quote too. Now please, go to sleep.” 

“What’d you say earlier about Hyunjin not buying you a ring yet?” 

“Shut up and sleep.” _ _ _ 

Hyunjin: 

“Babe, it’s not that serious.” 

Your heart clenched at the words and you swallowed the hurt in your throat. You stared at the phone in your hand, clicked it off, and gently laid it off to the side. Hyunjin just got home from work and all day, you’d been dealing with the aftermath of your relationship leaking to the public. 

Horrible and terrible things were being said about you. You tried not to let it bother you, but things tended to be taken to heart. A few videos were leaked by fans who stumbled upon you and you and Hyunjin were in an argument over something stupid. The fans caught it on tape and since then, you’d been called a variety of curse words under the sun. 

“Do you think I’m flawed for taking things too seriously?” You asked after a wave of silence broke between you. “Because even your fans agree, just by one video, that I take things too seriously.” 

On the other end of the living room, his face fell. “I didn’t mean it like that. The argument that we were having, they don’t understand that we banter like that all the time. Just because you view life through a different lens, it doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.” 

He pushed himself from the recliner and headed to your end of the couch. “I’m sorry for acting like it’s nothing. I’ve just learned that most fan discourse is to be ignored. They’re always assuming or seeing things that aren’t really there. It’s an endless void and if you let yourself drown in it, you’ll be miserable.”

“I didn’t consider that you’ve never dealt with issues like this before.” He plopped down beside you and tugged you into his lap. “Whatever they say and whatever stupidity that they come up with, it doesn’t define you. I wouldn’t be with you if I hated you.” 

“Their opinions are irrelevant and a lot of what you’re hearing, it’s anger from their own insecurities. You were meant for me and that’s just how it is. I’m not meant to live a life following the opinions of others and neither are you.” 

“My opinion was the right opinion,” you mumbled. “I just don’t see how they could agree with you over a stupid idea.” 

He playfully scoffed. “Nuh-uh! Mine was the right one.” 

“Who doesn’t like eggplants?” 

He groaned and threw up his hands in disbelief. He shoved you back towards the arm of the couch and threw himself onto his back. “BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU? Were you born sick?” 

You’d keep fighting him about this topic, not necessarily because you loved eggplants, but because you liked watching his theatrical reactions. 

_ _ _ 

Han: 

“Okay, you’re not talking and it’s really starting to freak me out. What more do you want from me? Honey? You’re not chatting like you usually do.” 

“Yeah, I know.” You shrugged and let yourself relax against the porch swing. The metal frame had a canopy above it and the two of you were enjoying the last tendrils of the setting sun.

Milky pink, soft blue, and a dusting of fireball red swirled around the sky. Han was crisscrossed in his socks while he talked about his day. Usually, you’d be piping in with comments or asking him questions, but today, you just occasionally hummed. 

You focused on the sky and you let your feet gently sway your body back and forth. He continued rambling and rambling and rambling. Usually, the two of you bounced from topic-to-topic, but when you didn’t utter a word after his third story, he frowned. 

“Are you listening to me?” 

“Mmhm.” 

“Then why aren’t you talking? Are you mad at me?” 

Your eyes found his and your head shook. “No, I just thought you might like it better if I was quiet for once. I don’t always need to be saying things and interrupting your conversations. We always change directions and I thought it’d be nice for you to finish a story without you being distracted.” 

“But I love when the conversation diverts elsewhere and we talk about other things before coming back. It’s really fun and I like it.” 

“Do you really or are you just saying that to make me feel better?” 

He pushed himself to sit up and let his legs fall to the ground. “Why would I lie about that?” 

“Your fans think I’m too loud and too much. I guess I got worried that maybe you think that too. I get so happy and excited to talk to you. I don’t mean to be so loud, but I–” 

“Don’t ever apologize for existing loudly. I love knowing you exist and knowing that you want to interact with me. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day, so please never stop.” 

“You mean it?” You whispered softly. 

“With my whole entire heart.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes slipped shut and you let your body relax. When he pulled away, his eyes twinkled beneath the fading rays of sunlight. “Can I do that again?” 

“Do you really have to ask?” 

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss you again. 

_ _ _ 

Felix: 

“Babe! Babe! Babe!” Felix burst into your room beaming. “I did it! I did it! I’m not bronze anymore! I finally got a higher rank!” 

Your eyes widened and you spun around in your gaming chair. On your head, your headphones sat on your ears and your microphone was on. You shot Felix a look of panic and his face fell. “Oh, shit,” he whispered. 

Dating the love of your life was easy, but it was harder when you earned your living by streaming gaming content and Felix was an idol. With such public lives, the two of you weren’t sure how to break the news. Felix wasn’t even sure if his company would allow it, so when he found a significant other, he just never told them. 

Awkwardly, he grimaced and backed out of the room. Your eyes squeezed shut as you internally cursed and spun yourself back to face the ongoing livestream. 

“IS THAT FELIX FROM STRAY KIDS?” 

“If the fans don’t kill you first, jyp will.” 

“Holy FUCK, when did that happen?” 

“And if I said that never happened and the stream glitched?” You laughed nervously and tried to play it off. Your eyes went back to your game and you tried to breathe and not panic, but it wasn’t working. 

It didn’t help that when you glanced over, the chat was being filled with hate. People were fuming about you having a significant other. Others were fans of Stray Kids and they were pissed off that you of all people were dating their favorite idol. 

“So how about we talk about something else? Like how you guys have been doing or literally anything else?” You forced a laugh, but it didn’t help. More and more comments were rolling in. 

When you caught wind of more hatred, you blinked rapidly, trying not to cry. Not to mention, the level you were playing, your character kept dying. Too shaken up by the events, your fingers weren’t as quick as they usually were. 

After about five minutes of torture, the door to your room flung open and caused you to jump. You glanced back over your shoulder to find an angry Felix striding into the room. Before you could stop him, he pulled your chair away from your camera set up. 

“Okay, that’s it, it’s me.” He got on his knees, so he was in the camera frame. “I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t be mean to my significant other in the gaming chat. They’ve worked so hard to get to this point and I don’t think it’s fair that you’re making this about me now.”

“Felix, you don’t have to-” 

“Do you know how hard it is to date a gamer when you’re stuck on bronze?” He continued. 

“You should date someone with a real job.” 

Felix read the comment and frowned. Without missing a beat, he responded. “And I think you should get a real life instead of hiding behind a screen with a Skibidi Toilet profile picture.” 

You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, reminding him that he didn’t have to do this. He reached up, gently placed his hand on top of yours, and squeezed you back. He didn’t have to do this, but he wasn’t going to let you deal with the masses alone. 

He thought the Skibidi Toilet meme was stupid, so it felt like knocking down two birds with one stone. 

_ _ _ 

Seungmin: 

“Are you going to take a break anytime soon? You’ve been busy for the past few hours and I told you that I was going to take you out to dinner.” 

“Could you give me another hour?” You glanced up from your spot on the floor. In your hand, a screwdriver and in the other hand, you were holding a shelf of a smaller book shelf that you were trying to put together. 

“Um…” Seungmin’s head tipped and he frowned. “Yeah, I guess. Did you get a burst of inspiration or something? You’ve been working in this room the entire day. You stripped the carpet, you put in those hardwood sections that I told you I’d help you with. Now,” he gestured to the bookshelf, “you’re building furniture.” 

You shrugged, “I just wanted to get our room prepared. It’s harder to move between an apartment and a house if the rooms aren’t ready, so I thought I’d just spend the day fixing it up.” 

“But…” 

“But?” You echoed. 

He wanted to point out your short attention span and tell you that this certainly wasn’t like you. He wanted to ask if you were okay or mentally unwell, but you looked bored by the conversation. Your eyes continued to wander back to the instruction booklet to make sure you were placing pieces together properly. 

“Never mind, just call me when you’re ready and we’ll go.” 

You watched him spin around and leave. Your attention went right back to the bookcase. Ever since you caught wind of his fans calling you lazy, you were forcing yourself to be more self-disciplined. 

Seungmin did it with such ease. Even when he didn’t want to do things, he pushed himself harder. Maybe that meant staying longer to learn a dance or it meant taking extra vocal lessons. Perhaps, it was just spending extra time in the recording booth to nail vocals. Seungmin seemed to get the whole self-perseverance thing, but you were different.  

Tasks were more difficult for you to get through. Having a short attention span didn’t help and oftentimes, you found yourself getting distracted or doing other things. Motivation was hard to come by for you. You were trying to work on self-discipline, but it was a long process. 

You were dubbed lazy by Seungmin’s fans after Seungmin made a light-hearted joke in the interview. He called you a homebody and joked that you were like a lazy cat, constantly curled up somewhere and not doing much. It never truly minded Seungmin and it was just a joke, but when the fandom heard it, they weren’t happy. 

They didn’t understand how someone with so much go could date someone with such little motivation. It worried them and the lighthearted joke rolled into an entire hate train. Comment after comment was plastered on your feed. 

Since then, you were trying to make yourself seem useful. You ignored the short attention span of yours and forced yourself to keep going. This was day one of what you had internally dubbed your new life. 

A shriek a short while later sent Seungmin rushing back to the room you were in. You were there with a hammer and gripping your thumb while you cursed up a storm. He rushed to your side and gently grabbed your hand. 

“Let me see it. What happened?” He pulled your now red and throbbing thumb away from your other fingers. 

All you could do was hiss in pain. It took a few seconds before you could admit that you accidentally slammed your thumb, with the hammer’s head, while driving a nail into the side of the wood. 

“Can you bend it?” Worried eyes found yours. 

“I don’t even want to attempt to do that. It hurts so bad, I wish I was kidding. I can physically feel it swelling up.” 

“Let’s put the restaurant on a rain check right now and let’s get you to the doctor.” 

He pulled you up by your good hand and led you into the living room. It was there that he helped you slip into your shoes and began tying the strings. You watched him with a frown on your face. 

“This is so stupid,” you mumbled, feeling mortified about everything. “Your fans were right and so were you. I have an awful attention span and maybe all I’m really good for is laying around and being lazy.” 

He glanced up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t seen that your fans are hitting me with hate, have you? You made that joke last week and now I’ve become a failure in their eyes.” 

“I have a lot to say about that, but I think we need to get you to the emergency room. Do you think the doctor will IV you? Maybe if I take a photo of it and ask for prayers, they’ll think you’re dying and then they’ll feel awful.” 

“That’s incredibly petty.” 

“Yeah, well, nobody gets to bully you besides me.” 

_ _ _ 

Jeongin: 

Jeongin’s arms reached out for you and then you dipped down. You ducked away, spun around, and began to talk about your day. Jeongin’s face puckered in displeasure, but he didn’t fight it. 

“How was your day?” You asked once you were finished. 

The two of you arrived home at the same time, just like usual. Your days were polar opposite, but it always led to different conversations. You were pretty stationary at your job, but Jeongin was constantly on the move. 

“It was okay.” He reached out for your hand, but you tugged it away when you saw him reach for it. “The guys and I screwed around like usual. We started to learn a new dance and I think by the end of tomorrow’s practice, we’ll have it fully down.” 

“That sounds amazing. You guys are really good at learning dances so fast. I don’t think I could ever do something that quickly. It takes me a few days to get the dance moves down.” 

He hummed and reached out again, but once more, you ignored his outstretched hand and you side-stepped it. When you did it again, he finally reached out, grabbed your hips, shoved you forward, and then shifted you. When he was finished, you stared at him with wide eyes. 

His hands remained on your hips and he pinned you against a living room stand. Your throat pulsed as you swallowed a loud gulp. His eyes met yours and they narrowed. 

“What?” You finally uttered as you squirmed beneath his gaze. “What are you looking at me like that for? What did I do?”

“Are you playing dumb right now, or are you being serious?” 

“Huh?” “You won’t let me touch you. I’ve tried to grab you a few times and you keep wiggling away, like you don’t want to be touched. Did I do something wrong yesterday?” He gently squeezed your hips. “I don’t know what I did.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I just…” You trailed off, not sure if you should tell him or not. 

“You just what?” 

“That video that leaked the other day, the fans think I’m too clingy. I don’t want to seem like I’m suffocating you. I know that you’re not so huge on skin-to-skin contact, but I also didn’t realize just how much I do it.” 

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something just because I like it. You’re allowed to have boundaries in this relationship and if I’m clinging to you and touching you way too much, then I-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” 

Your words halted immediately. Under the scrutiny of his stare, it was getting harder to stay still. You sucked in a deep breath and his fingers squeezed your hips once more. 

“I know I’m allowed to have boundaries, but I’ve learned to like your touch. I don’t mind it if you’re constantly touching me. If you’re laying on me, curled around my arm, or just holding hands, I’ve learned that I really like it.” 

“Are you sure?” You whispered. “Because truly, if you don’t like it-” 

“I never admit it because of the guys,” he finally admitted. “If I admit that I don’t mind your skinship, the guys will be all over me. It’s already bad enough that the seven of them still view me as a helpless teenager.” 

A smile cracked at your face. “It just means that they love you, Innie.” 

“And I love them, but I also love being grown and being independent. Now enough of that, where’s my hug? My evening kiss? I’ve had a long day and I’d really like to be touched.” 

“Words of a pervert,” you mumbled beneath your breath. 

“What did you just say?”

“Spoken like a true perv-” 

He cut you off by pulling you towards him and connecting your lips.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[starmapz]

what you know - ch8: hysteria || 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 ; 17.7k (oops).

❦ a/n ; please note the tags have been updated.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

Although not particularly cold throughout the holidays, a frigid air settles over the city shortly after the date turns to the new year. As usual, Gojo held his annual frat party that you’re required to be at by virtue of being his friend, though you end up being one of many single party-goers who dips into a corner as the clock strikes midnight. The idea of a stranger’s lips wandering to yours doesn’t sit well in your stomach and although you asked if he would attend, Sukuna had promised his little brothers a celebration, just the three of them. Not that you would kiss Sukuna anyway, of course-

Yuji had apparently never celebrated the new year, too young to understand previously, though based on the photo in your email inbox, he didn’t get to celebrate this one either. A blurry photo taken from the camera on Sukuna’s laptop, pointed down at Yuji sound asleep in his lap while he and Choso had MarioKart running in the background had been the telltale sign.

You can’t blame him for not having a phone, but sometimes you do wish you could text rather than email. Especially with your friendship seeming to blossom as of late. It took a bit of nurturing to get to this point, but Sukuna seems to recognize his faults and actively tries to work on and better himself. Regardless of his often-irritable demeanor, you appreciate the effort on his part.

Snowflakes settle in your palm as you hold it out in front of you on the walk to the lunch hall. Settling back into the flow of having classes early in the mornings brings with it a dreary haze that hangs over the student body, yourself included. Not a single soul seems to be well-rested, apart from one person.

“Good morning,” Kento greets you with a warm smile, running a hand through his golden locks.

“Morning, Kento,” you greet him in return, your attention trained on the snowflakes melting on the warmth of your skin. “How was it, going back home?”

“It was relaxing,” he replies, a frown pulling at his lips as he takes in your dazed expression. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to join us.”

“That’s alright! I really did appreciate your offer to pay for my tickets, but it didn’t feel right,” you shoot him a smile, though quickly return your attention to your hand.

Auburn irises flicker down to your palm, trying to figure out what’s holding your interest so adamantly. “I understand, although it really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Really, it’s fine, Nanamin. Satoru, Suguru, and Sukuna all had me over and I talked to my parents a bunch,” you assure him, finally dropping your hand and wiping the condensation on the front of your coat.

“Sukuna?” He asks, his brows raising, though it’s more of a rhetorical question as he’s already aware he’ll be doing Sukuna a favor at some point in the new year.

“He’s put in a lot of effort to make up for what happened.” Your tone is somewhat clipped, coming out unintentionally defensive.

Nanami’s gaze flickers to your face, catching the minute knit of your brows and tension in your shoulders. “I should hope so. Either way, I wasn’t making any accusations. Simply an observation.”

You sigh. “I know, sorry. I think I’m just a bit exhausted,” you chuckle, shooting him an apologetic smile. “I can’t believe we’re already back to it. The break felt so short.”

“I agree,” he hums as he opens the door to the lunch hall for you. With a grateful smile, you slip past him and head towards your regular table. Looks like you won’t be the first to arrive this semester. You and Kento are the last to arrive, taking your seats and beginning to pull out your lunches as you get back into the swing of lunches on campus.

Just as you pull out some leftover pasta, Sukuna takes a seat beside you. He looks worse for wear, even more exhausted than you. His sleep schedule is always atrocious, so you can only imagine what it would look like without classes.

“Hey, Kuna!” You grin as you greet him.

In usual Sukuna fashion, he leans over the table on his elbow, resting his chin against his palm. “Princess.” He yawns quietly, his eyes briefly fluttering shut.

“Long day?” You ask, amused but sympathetic.

“Long fuckin’ day,” he agrees, his chest rumbling in faint laughter. “Y’know, you usually don’t look as tired as I-”

“Hey hotshot, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Gojo blurts out suddenly, interrupting Sukuna.

With a deadpan expression, the tattooed man’s jaw clenches in barely-masked irritation. Of all days, Sukuna could only have hoped Gojo would keep his mouth shut today, unable to deal with his bullshit in this state. “The hell did I do?” He rolls his shoulders, as though prepping for a fight. 

Can’t these two get along just for once?

“You were on my balcony at the end of finals party, and let some couple fuck on my bed!” He points an accusatory finger at Sukuna’s chest, his nose scrunching in disgust at the mere thought.

Slowly, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth in realization. As you glance at Sukuna, you’re surprised to see his expression has relaxed somewhat, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “What, you think I broke in to let some other couple fuck?” Sukuna sneers, practically reveling in the way Gojo scoffs. “I didn’t do it on purpose, asshole.” He tilts his head towards you, crimson eyes filled with amusement. “Why don’t you tell him?”

You can tell from his tone he’s enjoying this way too much. “Um- well-” you wince as Satoru’s expression falls, dramatic betrayal written across his face in bolded marker. “I may have unlocked your room to get some air and… kinda didn’t lock the door behind me.” You mutter the last portion into your hand, a sheepish shrug the best you can offer him.

“It was you?” He whines, lip curled in utter disbelief.

“And to think he blamed Sukuna this whole time,” Suguru butts in, amused.

“I saw him leave the balcony!” The frat boy counters, turning his attention back to you. “I had to stay on Suguru’s floor while my mattress got cleaned,” he gripes.

“I can’t even imagine my floor was that much cleaner,” Suguru quips teasingly, a mischievous glimmer in his golden eyes.

Satoru jabs him in the side before turning his attention to you. “You owe me. No, you double owe me because I had you over for Christmas dinner too!” He waggles his spoon at you, before dropping it in his soup with all the dramatic flair he can muster.

“I’m so sorry, Satoru! I promise it was an accident.” You offer your best apologetic smile.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing. “It’s fiiiine. Just… buy me drinks next time we go out or something.”

“I’d like to think I should be compensated for dealing with Satoru’s whining,” Suguru chimes in, entertained by the whole ordeal.

Shaking your head at the raven-haired man’s blatant teasing, you giggle quietly, your elbow lightly brushing Sukuna. He’s still leaning over the table, close enough to feel his breath fan your arm with each rise and fall of his chest.

“After consulting my bank account, I can get Suguru one drink, and Satoru two,” you offer.

“Deal!”

“Deal.”

Sukuna shakes his head, shooting a final glance at Satoru that doesn’t hold the amusement he regarded you with before his full attention shifts back to you. “Just gonna throw me under the bus like that, huh?” He gruffs. Beyond the tired glaze that paints his eyes is a mirthful gleam, reserved only for you as he observes the way you sheepishly chuckle.

“My bad,” you scratch at the back of your neck, your cheeks heating up as his arm brushes yours. “I was gonna jump in, I swear!”

“Mhm.” Sukuna lets out a long breath, leaning back comfortably over the table and putting some distance between you. Just as he begins to zone out, lost in thought over the lawsuit, he sits up straight, his attention drawn to Kento. “Did you find a time to meet with- uh- Kento?”

“Oh!” You gently nudge Kento at Sukuna’s reminder. “Can you and your friend meet up on…” you glance back at Sukuna to fill in the blank as his schedule is much more packed than yours usually is.

“Friday. After four.”

Kento spins to face you, his watchful gaze doing a once-over of Sukuna. “I can get back to you on that. It should work for me, but I’ll need to speak with him.”

You grin. “Great! If that works, can we meet at the cafe across from the Science building?”

Kento nods. “I’ll let you know this afternoon. I believe I share a class with him.”

The two men on either side of you exchange another tense glance, letting the uneasy atmosphere dissolve as they mutually redirect their attention elsewhere. Sukuna leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his crossed arms, his eyes watching with mild interest as you take a bite of your leftover pasta.

Just as you’re about to offer him a bite, your lips purse in surprise as two men you don’t recognize take seats in front of Sukuna. It only clicks who they must be when Uraume takes a seat on Sukuna’s opposite side. You shoot them a warm smile as the salmon-haired man’s head lifts.

You can’t tell what’s going through Sukuna’s mind as he grunts out a “what are you doin’ here?”

The man sitting on Gojo’s left, who’s currently receiving a deeply displeased glare from your snowy-haired friend, has black hair that falls straight over his forehead and a scar on his lip. Beside him is a man with spiked brown hair and a toothpick between his teeth. His lips seem to be drawn in a perpetual frown. He speaks up first. “We haven’t seen you since the party.”

The man with the scarred lip smirks. “That, and Uraume was mentionin’ your girl wanted to meet us.”

Sukuna’s lip curls in frustration, a deathly glare burning his friend for calling you his girl. He introduces you, making a point of calling you his friend, before pointing out Toji, with the scar, and Atsuya.

With a grin and deeply warmed cheeks, you point out each of the members of your friend group. Haibara and Shoko are as sweet as ever, while Geto and Nanami are kind. Gojo, on the other hand, seems frustrated with the arrival of the group, in particular Toji, which you suppose makes sense if the man’s got a penchant for being a pain even by Sukuna’s standards from what you’ve heard.

In spite of Toji’s immediate overbearing teasing, he seems nice enough, and with their arrival, Sukuna becomes slightly more talkative. He’s slowly coming out of his shell around you, which you’re grateful for.

“So,” Toji begins, mischief dancing across his emerald irises, “how in the world did ya manage to get through to this asshole?” He questions you, jabbing a thumb towards Sukuna at your side.

You giggle, not missing the way Sukuna’s jaw clenches. “Not easily.”

“I’ll say. I’ve known ‘im since we were kids and I’m still not part of his Christmases,” he scoffs.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ dick, I’d invite you,” Sukuna scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You could always invite Sukuna, could you not?” Uraume points out to Toji, who scoffs, his expression deadpan.

“Oh yeah, who wants t’ come to the Zenin Family Dinner? Drop on by, we got my fuckass uncle, my asshole grandparents and Naoya. Who wouldn’t wanna join?” He jeers, sarcasm dripping from each and every word.

“Is that the ‘Naoya’ you punched?” You ask, keeping your voice low for only Sukuna to hear as you lean towards him.

“Mhm.”

“‘Sides,” Toji begins, “your dad used to invite me every year, dunno what I did to get uninvited.”

Oh.

Oh.

He doesn’t know.

Sukuna’s leg bounces absentmindedly under the table at the mention of his father, his gaze averting to a nearby wall in an effort to keep his reaction neutral.

“You know, I could host something next year,” you offer in an effort to divert attention away from the topic of Sukuna’s father. To your horror, the table goes silent. The tension coming off of Satoru and Toji in waves is palpable, and you’re beyond grateful for Shoko, Kento, and Uraume, the first three at the table to chime in.

“Sounds like fun.”

“I would join.”

“That sounds lovely.”

You let out a sigh of relief as gradually, the rest of the table begins to agree, even the two men who seem to continually be at odds with one another. You have half a mind to wonder how that even happened given that Satoru’s usually the one to get under others’ skin, not vice versa.

As conversation begins to return, Sukuna quietly mutters a “thanks” in your ear that sends a shiver straight down your spine before burying his face in his arms as you finish your meal. The tension in the air doesn’t fully dissolve but at the very least, Satoru and Toji choose to simply not acknowledge one another.

With a glance at the time on your phone, you begin packing up once you finish your lunch. A couple of others at the table check the time as they take notice of your actions, using the opportunity to pack up as no one wants to be late on the first day of class. With nothing to pack up himself, Sukuna swings his bag over his shoulder and mumbles a “see ya,” heading for the door before you can stop him.

Even with how far your friendship has come, it seems some things never change.

With a sigh, you turn back to the table. “It was nice to meet you, Toji and Atsuya,” you smile politely.

“Likewise,” Atsuya agrees with a tired smile.

“‘Course. Had to meet the woman Sukuna’s been ditchin’ us for.” Toji shoots you a shit-eating grin, something you don’t dare read into as your face warms at the mere thought of being the person Sukuna seems to always choose.

“See you all later,” you call out to the broader table, met with a chorus of goodbyes. “Text me, Sho!”

Hurrying out the door to your next class, you zip up your coat as you make your way through the frozen wasteland that separates you from Literature History. At least the weather had relented somewhat from the beginning of December, offering a more mild bite that didn’t seem to seep into the very fiber of your being.

Still, it’s a hell of a lot colder than it was before the new year.

With a huff as you cross the barrier into the building where your next class is, you let the warmth envelop you, grateful for the shelter from the bitter wind outside. Winter had only really begun to settle over the city in the last month, but you’re ready for spring to arrive. Even if it means more finals.

Sighing at the thought of starting the entire dance over again- class, studying, finals, not to mention your required internship- you push through the door to the lecture hall, briefly pausing at the bottom of the class to search for a familiar face.

And god fucking damn it, the way your eyes light up when you spot Sukuna could practically make him dizzy. He’s careful that his crimson stare doesn’t give away the strange way his chest tightens at the mere sight of your beaming smile, keeping his expression indifferent as his gaze trails your path.

You jog up the stairs until you find a place beside him, grinning as you slide into the seat. “I was gonna ask what your next class was, but you left so fast,” you comment, getting settled as you pull out your laptop.

“Mm,” Sukuna watches your movements, his eyes trailing your manicured nails. Pink. They almost match his hair.

Why is he even thinking about this?

“Didn’t wanna be late,” he excuses his actions, finally meeting your eyes.

Your bottom lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout. “At least walk with me when we have class together.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Yeah, alright, princess,” he teases, unable to help his smirk as he settles back into familiar territory with you and the strange flutter in his chest eases.

The professor walks in, writing her name in large font across the whiteboard at the front of the room as she begins her introduction to the class.

“Y’know,” Sukuna leans closer, his voice lowering so as not to disturb the other students. “Apparently the prof’s a huge conspiracy theorist.”

“Really?” You ask, interest gleaming behind narrowed eyes.

“Mhm. Supposedly she believes Shakespeare never existed.”

“Like, she believes the anti-Stratfordian theory?” You ask, tilting your head. That’s not an unreasonable theory, to believe that many of the plays typically associated with Shakespeare were perhaps written by another famous playwright or author under a pseudonym that happened to match the name of a living man.

“Nah. ‘Parently she believes he never existed,” Sukuna shrugs.

“But- he did. Maybe not the one we know, but there’s proof of his birth and death records. He has a grave,” you point out.

“I know that,” he smirks. “I heard she rambled about that theory and Dickens’ death for an hour last semester.”

You blink twice. “You’re kidding.” Groaning as quietly as you can muster, you drag your hands down your face. “I can’t afford to have another history professor who rambles. And the Dickens theory isn’t even interesting,” you tack on in a grumble.

“You’ll be fine,” Sukuna chuckles, amused at your reaction. “Literature’s your thing, ain’t it?”

“Well… yeah, but you know how I am with names, dates and faces.”

“And you know how to study for that,” he points out, nudging your shoulder. “‘Sides, you’ll have-”

“If something is so interesting that you feel the need to interrupt, Mr. Sukuna,” the professor’s voice booms around the lecture hall as all eyes land on the pair of you. Sukuna keeps his cool, which you’re thankful for as you pale and shrink into your seat. “Then I would suggest you come up here and share with the class.”

He doesn’t bother to reply, simply giving a wave of his hand for her to continue. It’s not exactly the polite response you would have given, but with a final glance between you both, she turns back to the broader class to continue the lecture.

Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals as you slowly relax back into your seat when you’re no longer the center of attention. If you bristled so much from just being called out, he can only imagine the pain you went through when he left you hanging last semester. He frowns to himself at the thought, his attention never fully given to the professor as much as he tries.

His mind wanders between the introduction to Elizabethean and Jacobean literature and the way your nails tap against your keyboard as you type up notes. As the class drags on and his mind drifts further and further from the lecture, he leans back in his seat and roughly drags his hands over his face.

He’s exhausted beyond belief, frustrated with his schedule for this semester, frustrated with Toji for sticking his nose in Sukuna’s business, irritated with himself for not paying attention for something he’s paying a lot of money to attend, and to top it all off, he knows he has a long day ahead of him.

It’s not like it’s a first, most days are long in his world, but today he’s all the more frustrated and it’s wearing him thin.

So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t even realize the room is shuffling until your laptop shuts beside him, the dull snap bringing him back to reality. As you slip your laptop into a sleeve and delicately place it in your bag, he follows suit, tucking his laptop into his backpack and throwing his coat on.

He even supposes he’ll wait for you this time around, given that he has some time before picking up his brothers for once.

You pause in front of him, zipping your jacket up as you type out a message on your phone. “Looks like Friday works for Kento’s friend.”

Sukuna nods, his brow knit. “I’ll need to bring Cho and Yu. Uraume’s got late classes this semester and our neighbor’s away this week.”

You pause for a moment as you consider what that means. “You’ll need to tell them.” Your tone is somber, your voice quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you over the bustling of students exiting the lecture hall.

He nods slowly, a muscle in his jaw ticking. One might even argue he’s too aware of that fact. You can physically see gears turning in his mind, a question sitting atop his tongue that he doesn’t want to voice.

“What’s wrong, Kuna?” You query gently, tilting your head to look up at him. The tattoo along the length of his jaw stretches along his skin as he grimaces.

“D’you have another class?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t wanna talk about it here.” With a large hand on the small of your back, he directs you out of the hall and back into the cold, his palm lifting from your warmth to run through his tousled locks.

If only he knew the way your stomach flipped from such a simple touch.

Regardless, he probably should have asked if you had any plans for the afternoon, rather than simply dragging you off campus and towards his brothers’ school, but the thought is lost on him. Luckily for him, you might be a little too understanding of the man who unknowingly holds your heart, so you don’t say a word as he silently leads you in a direction that you recognize.

Really, you could have at least gotten your car instead of trudging through the cold.

Before you can protest, Sukuna finally finds the words to voice his thoughts.

“What if I’m lookin’ at this the wrong way?” He gruffs, tense and raw with emotion that isn’t often something you associate with him.

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but you can’t quite tell where his meaning lies. “What way is that?”

“Been thinkin’. I mean, she’s their mother, right? What if they’re better off with her? What if they wanna go with her and I’m puttin’ up a fight they don’t want me to win?”

It hits you like a ton of bricks. The impact nearly pushes the breath from your lungs and causes your stride to falter. If Sukuna notices, he doesn’t slow down and it takes you a moment to catch up, his words still sinking in.

“Wait- What?” You splutter, grappling with the severity of his grievance. He keeps his pace up, not even sparing you a glance. “Sukuna, wait-” You tug on his forearm, tearing his arm from his pocket as he pauses to look at you finally.

Distant. He didn’t hear you.

Blinking twice, you pull him to the edge of the sidewalk to keep his attention on you and away from the noise of the city around you. The lights, the people, the cars, it all seems to encroach on you and muddle your thoughts, you can only imagine the mileage his mind is currently making.

Certain that you have his focus now, you repeat yourself. “What are you talking about? You know they need you.”

He sighs, an air of irritation settling over him as he stares at the brick to your left. “They need a guardian, doesn’t mean they need me. Been thinkin’ maybe they’d want to go with her. With their mother.”

You pause, considering the question for yourself for a moment. You can sympathise with wanting what’s best for them, but it doesn’t sit well with you that he doubts himself so much when you can see what he means to those kids.

“You need to tell them what’s going on anyway, so I think it’s worth asking,” you agree. It’s the right thing to do regardless of the outcome. “But,” you add in a gentler tone, offering a kind smile, “they’ll choose you.”

His eyes snap to you, a tense set to his musculature. “What makes you so sure?” He almost sounds offended.

“They love you, Sukuna.” His brow twitches, his mouth opening to protest, but you continue. “You told me you couldn’t get a hold of their mom when your dad passed, right?”

He nods tensely.

“What kind of mother does that?” You point out. “Imagine how that would make Choso feel.”

You pause, letting the thought sink in. Sukuna doesn’t reply, absently cracking a knuckle.

He’d been so caught up all those years ago in the loss of their father and his own grief that he’d hardly considered that Choso’s grief had likely been twofold. The child had lost his father just like Sukuna, but he’d also had to deal with the loss of his mother. Not only that, but it was more like the active rejection of his mother, because the reality is that Sukuna tried hard to get a hold of her. Looking back, he knows he was in no way ready to parent his brothers and it was rocky at the start. He should never have let Choso sit at his side in tears as he tried every method he could to reach her.

Sukuna had always accepted that Choso got quieter as simply a part of his grief. The little boy had always teetered on the shy side of things, but Sukuna wonders now if there’s more to that. If his silence is a result of sitting alongside his frustrated and grief-stricken older brother as his mother chose not to reply.

When Sukuna’s silence extends, you do your best to guide him from the dark recesses that his mind attempts to take him to. “Would Yuji even remember her?”

Shit. Sukuna’s all Yuji’s ever known. If he doesn’t remember their father, there’s no way in hell he remembers his mother.

Sukuna drags a hand down his face. Coming to terms with the gravity of his own mistakes is one thing, but they don’t even begin to match up to the rejection of their mother.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, taking a step back to pace in front of the wall. Giving him the space and time he needs, you simply watch as he huffs and sighs. Fiddling with your neatly manicured nails, you wait patiently for him to organize his thoughts, only to frown when he shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. In one smooth motion, he flips his lighter open and smoke trails like rippling water up into the cold air. He leans against the wall, leaning his head back against the brick as he exhales smoke into the overcast sky.

The nicotine calms his jittery mind enough to allow him the space to function within the claustrophobia of his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, he pushes off the wall and returns to you finally, looking up to exhale smoke away from you.

“Uraume’s right, you know.”

Any other time, Sukuna would have let that slide, knowing it was meant to be a cheeky little quip about his vice.

But today’s a bad fucking day for him.

“So I’ve been told.” There’s enough bite to his words that you’re actually a bit surprised at his choice of tone, but even looking back on that drunk night fumbling through apologies, this is the most stressed you’ve ever seen him. His face is gaunt, pale with dark shadows beneath his eyes, and as you take in his outfit, you realize he’s wearing the hoodie he usually throws on after his showers.

If you were to wager a guess, he’s probably wearing last night’s clothes. He doesn’t attempt to hide the tension that grips his muscles and claws at his brow, either.

It’s clear that the thoughts he’s been sharing with you are ones that have been plaguing him as of late. He’s likely been grappling with the idea of telling his brothers about the lawsuit since you last saw him at Christmas. But that’s the thing about Sukuna, he would never ask for help. It’s a miracle he wanted to talk at all.

You let his snappy tone slide, giving him the benefit of the doubt that it’s not intentional. After all, he did ask you to come out here in the cold with him to talk.

Well, maybe ‘asked’ is the wrong word, but he made it clear he wanted you here to talk.

Still, the tension that hangs between you isn’t the usual alluring tension that draws you to him. It’s not uncomfortable, but you would certainly prefer the usual silence with him. It hangs between you in the delicate balance of Sukuna’s startlingly fragile tenacity, which only serves to sympathize you to him in spite of his loose temper.

Sukuna taps a finger on the edge of his cigarette. The ember tip falls to the ground in a pile of ash, melting a small crater of snow at his feet. Choosing not to acknowledge the rigidity that strains the quiet air, he casts a glance at his watch and nods in the direction of his brothers’ school.

“Don’t wanna be late,” he grunts, smoke escaping from the corners of his lips. With one final inhalation, he tosses the cigarette on the ground and stomps it out, turning on his heel to lead the way to the school.

You chew absently on your lip, trailing slowly after him.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, your mind grasping at the conversations of the people passing you by in an effort to fill the dead air. It’s suffocating being in Sukuna’s presence when he’s made a point of having you near, while simultaneously being bull-headed as he holds you at arms’ length.

“They ask for you a lot.”

You take a couple of long strides to catch up with him, thankful that he breaks the ice. Fiddling with the woven bracelets that are still tied to your wrist, you smile. “That’s really sweet. They’re good kids.”

Sukuna casts you a glance. He can see uncertainty in your eyes. He’s not stupid, he knows it’s his fault. But some stubborn part of him holds something akin to a grudge against you for pointing out something he knows is bad for him.

He’s got bigger problems than his nicotine addiction.

When Sukuna doesn’t reply, you swallow nervously. “You’ve raised them well, Kuna.”

Piercing irises snap towards you, flitting between your eyes. “‘M not so sure about that.”

“Aren’t you proud of them?” You push, tilting your head.

Sukuna’s chest clenches. He averts his gaze, grimacing. “‘Course.”

“Then why wouldn’t you think you raised them well?”

“I’m not what they need,” he replies simply.

Your gaze narrows, lips pursing in confusion. “They need a roof over their heads and food on the table. You’re good to them, Sukuna.”

He sighs heavily. “They need someone more attentive. Someone who can be home and dote over them.”

“Dote?” You parrot, the corner of your lip twitching up. “I’ve seen you dote.”

He scoffs. “As if.”

“What do you call your gifts to them?”

A crease forms between his brows. “That wasn’t doting. It hardly meant anything.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, and I don’t think you do either,” you tease, prodding his shoulder and chancing his patience with you.

He scowls down at you, huffing.

You giggle quietly, your breath visible in the air before you. Quieting down, you nudge him gently. “You know just how much those gifts meant to them. You’re exactly what they need, Sukuna. And I think you’re what they want, too.”

Sukuna falters, catching himself quickly enough to play it off like he tripped. Somehow, that’s the less embarrassing option here, he thinks.

“Maybe.” It comes out weaker than intended, and he’s grateful that the steps up to the front of the school offer an escape from the conversation. He may have started it, but like most other difficult conversations he dragged you into, he usually finds himself reluctant to continue them.

Something about how well you know his brothers, how well you know him, shakes him to his very core and he’s not willing to touch that thought with a ten foot pole.

To his relief, the bell rings and a teacher guides a class of young, bright-eyed children out of the school to reunite them each with those meant to pick them up. As Yuji crosses the school’s barrier, she points the two of you out and the little boy goes barreling towards you both.

“Kunaaaaa!” He cries out excitedly, attaching himself like a koala to his older brother’s leg. Sukuna grunts, lifting him into the air as he easily keeps his balance. The little boy giggles, his eyes opening to look at his brother, when he spots you.

Hopping from his brother’s arms with wide, excited eyes, he leaps into your arms as you extend them to him. “You’re here!” He cheers, arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug.

You giggle, doing your best to hold the boy up as he clings tightly to you. “How was school, Yu?”

“It was great! We’re learning about the oceans and sharks, and-”

As Yuji excitedly tells you about his day, Choso dips through the doorway, his eyes scanning the steps for Sukuna. As he spots both of you, a small smile makes its way to his lips and he jogs over with his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack.

Sukuna ruffles the boy’s hair, who smooths it down in response, a gleam in his eyes as he waves at the sight of you beside his brother. You smile back at him, unable to wave with the youngest Itadori in your arms. Sukuna begins leading the way back towards his apartment, listening to Yuji’s ramblings.

“- did you know that seals eat penguins? I could never eat a penguin, they’re so cute. I think seals should eat something else.”

“You think so?” You giggle at Yuji’s adamant statement.

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head. “They should just eat fish and get along with the penguins. Like you and Kuna.”

Your brow raises and you cast a glance at Sukuna, who’s also now staring at the pink-haired boy with mild interest.

“What do you mean ‘like me and Sukuna’, sweetheart?” You ask curiously, your heart doing a flip.

“You’re like a penguin because you’re really cool and nice and Kuna’s like a seal because he’s a meanie but he’s also cool. I think if seals were more like my big brother, they’d get along with penguins. Like you guys.”

Kids are wild.

You laugh as Yuji explains himself, your tone sitting somewhere between genuine chortles and something to fill a silence that might otherwise be awkward. “Tell me more about your brother being like a seal,” you urge, knowing it’ll ruffle Sukuna’s carefully preened feathers.

Yuji stares up at the clouds in thought. Your arms are beginning to tire, but you’ll hold him as long as you can, even if you know you’re holding up the walking pace. “Ummmm… well, some seals have spots and Sukuna has some on his shoulders, but he’s more stripey, like a tiger-”

“They’re not stripes, brat,” Sukuna hisses, but Yuji continues on without a care in the world.

“- and seals eat a lot and so does Kuna-”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough.”

Undeterred, the little boy continues. “- and apparently seals are really good parents, just like Kuna. I know he’s our brother, but he’s the best parent ever.”

It hits Sukuna like a shot through the chest, piercing clean straight through his heart and leaving behind a bloody hole. His jaw is heavy set as he does what he can to mask the way his little brother’s words affected him. The last thing he needs is a worried twelve-year-old and an ‘i told you so’ from you.

Because it’s then that it strikes him that you’re right.

Time and time again, you prove to him just how much he means to his brothers and each and every time he’s left balancing precariously on a cliff as he does what he can to hide the way his feet damn near betray him at the edge. It’s not like he has any reason to be upset with you over this, but to be known is to be seen, and that’s not something Sukuna’s accustomed to.

He has no issue with being the campus’ mysterious and hot ‘bad boy’, as much as the title serves to make him roll his eyes. It’s little more than a generic title given to him for surface-level facts and rumors.

To have you call him out so clearly, to be so utterly correct time after time when it comes to him and his family… He’s not sure how he feels about that. It stirs something deep within and he grits his teeth as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

Sukuna’s brow is deeply furrowed, his steps falling heavily on the snow-clad sidewalk. Ever observant, of course you caught the way his jaw trembled subtly when he heard his brother, but the moment was gone before you had a chance to consider it. Now, he just looks frustrated, even more so than usual.

It seems the new year brought with it the realization of just how close the court date is, and how horribly underprepared he is.

“Is that so?” You question Yuji, although your gaze never leaves Sukuna, brow knit in concern for him.

“Yeah! He’s the coolest!”

“He is, isn’t he?” You reply softly, shooting a look at Sukuna, who scowls at you both with an expression you can’t place.

You have to set Yuji on the ground fairly soon after, and ask Choso how his day was. The walk is spent listening to both brothers chat about their days as Sukuna is otherwise silent. Arriving at Sukuna’s front door, he tells the kids to head inside and wait for him in the lobby, waiting until they’re two doors away to talk to you.

“Will you be alright?” 

Something akin to offense passes over his eyes. It’s clear that no matter what you do, everything is getting under his skin today, so you think it’s best to leave. Besides, this is something he needs to do on his own.

“I’ll be fine,” he grits, continuing to scowl down at you. Even as frustrated as he is, his gaze softens as he stares past you and realizes you’ll need to walk back to your car on campus. “Email me when you get home,” he mutters, turning on his heel and leaving you standing out in the cold without another word.

Before he can shut the door behind him, you hesitantly take a step forward, catching the edge of the door. “Let me know if you want to talk.”

He stares at you for a split-second, contempt burning behind red irises that has you frowning at him, hurt that he’s been so short with you today. As though he realizes the same, the furrow to his brow lessens and he hums, nodding.

If that’s the most you’ll get out of him, so be it.

He turns back towards the lobby, passing through the second set of doors and following the kids as they lead the way up to the apartment. Choso reaches for Sukuna’s keys and unlocks the door, pushing through the barrier into their home. Yuji immediately goes running off to drop his bag in their room.

“Hey! Once you’re done I need you both back on the couch,” he calls after his little brother, his shoulders so tense it physically pains him to roll them back.

He can see Choso’s unease immediately, eyes wide and worried. Fuck.

Choso timidly sets his bag down in front of the couch and takes a seat at the edge of the cushion, fiddling with his fingers, the nails chewed raw. Sukuna had never noticed his brother developed that habit.

Yuji bounds excitedly to the couch, oblivious to the weighty air in the room. Choso bounces slightly as his little brother hops on the couch and plops down.

With a deep breath, Sukuna kneels down to the boys’ level, glancing between them.

“I heard from your mother,” he starts. Excitement overtakes Yuji’s expression, while Choso stiffens, his gaze anywhere but on Sukuna. “She’ll be in town soon.” He’s beating around the bush, he knows that. But how the hell do you tell two children about a lawsuit?

“Can we see her?” Yuji asks in awe.

“Lemme finish, Yu.” Sukuna takes a seat on the coffee table as his knees begin to get sore. The old wood creaks beneath his weight, not intended to support him, but it does nonetheless. “She wants ya both back.”

Sukuna pauses, letting both boys process his words.

Choso’s lips are pursed, his hands fiddling uncertainly in his lap.

“Like, we’ll all go live with her?” Yuji asks, his head tilting curiously.

Sukuna shudders at the question. If only it were so simple. “No. Just you and Choso.”

“She’s not Kuna’s mom,” Choso mutters.

In truth, Sukuna’s done a bad job of explaining their family to Yuji, making the assumption he’s too young to understand. Maybe he’s right, but it seems Choso’s willing to tell him the portions that Sukuna doesn’t want to touch.

“But… Kuna’s our brother too,” Yuji protests, frowning.

Sukuna sighs, a pang in his heart. “Listen,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “if she takes you, I won’t get to be a part of your life. If that’s what you want-”

“No!” Yuji cries out, interrupting Sukuna’s question. Choso’s fidgeting hasn’t stopped, but he has yet to say a word.

“Gimme a moment, Yu. If that’s what you want, that’s fine. I’ll let her take ya-”

“Kuna? Why do you keep saying ‘take’?” Choso finally finds his voice, eyes teary as though he already understands.

Sukuna’s lips press into a thin line, his leg bouncing as he contemplates his reply. The coffee table creaks relentlessly beneath him.

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m fit to take care of you. She’s-” he cuts himself off, running his tongue over his teeth in his mouth. “She’s tryna take you back, legally.”

“Legally?” Yuji parrots, his lips pursed.

Sukuna averts his gaze, looking for answers anywhere within the apartment, but he’s met only with a dull silence and Choso’s quiet sniffles. It’s clear he understands, and Sukuna wants nothing more than to assure him that he can win the legal battle, but the bitter truth is that Sukuna doesn’t want to lie to them.

And he’s not so confident that he can win.

“Yu, d’you remember when we watched Mrs. Doubtfire?”

Slowly, the little boy nods.

“D’you remember the part where the mom and dad are in a big room with a judge and he takes away the dad’s custody?”

Yuji blanks, nodding, although it’s clear he still doesn't fully understand.

“Well, custody is who gets to take care of kids. Right now that’s me. She wants it to be her, and neither of us get to decide that. It’s up to the judge,” Sukuna explains, trying as best as he can to offer an unbiased explanation.

“Tell her no!” Yuji cries out.

Sukuna bites down on his cheek, his brow furrowed. “I don’t get to, Yu. She’s forcing me to show up in front of the judge.”

Ever so slowly, Choso stands up off the couch, trailing closer and closer to his older brother until he’s leaning into Sukuna’s side, silent tears trailing down his cheeks and soaking into Sukuna’s shirt. Yuji seems to be starting to understand, now standing at the edge of the couch as he adamantly stands his ground as though the lawsuit is a personal attack to him.

“No! No, I don’t wanna go without you!” He proclaims loudly, his eyes beginning to water.

Sukuna can only frown as he watches the boy grapple with something he doesn’t understand.

“I don’t-” sniffle, “- I don’t wanna!” His tears now freely fall as he barrels at full force into Sukuna as well, crying into his side. He pulls both brothers closer, his exhausted gaze set straight ahead. “Please, Kuna, please!”

The apartment is filled with Yuji’s bawls and babbles, while Choso silently clings to him. The coffee table creaks beneath the three of them with every movement, threatening to give out at any moment.

“I won’t,” sniffle, “go, p- please don’t make me go! I don’t want to,” he sobs, “I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”

Denial after denial, it’s all that fills the apartment for longer than Sukuna knows what to do about.

“I don’t-” a sob wracks Yuji’s tiny body, “- even know her. I don’t remember her,” he bawls. Sukuna squeezes him as an acknowledgement, though he’s not sure what comfort he can offer. “Why can’t you come with us?”

Sukuna bites down harder than intended on his lower lip. “Your mother doesn’t like me, Yu.”

“But you-” he gasps for air between sobs, “- you’re the best.”

The taste of iron fills Sukuna’s mouth as he swipes his tongue over his lips. His chest feels as though it could implode as he tugs his two brothers tighter against him. Yuji tightly grips Sukuna’s hoodie, his little hands tugging with the full force of a five-year-old.

“I’m gonna fight for you both, okay?” He assures.

Choso sniffles, pulling back just enough to look up at his brother. “You want us?”

If Yuji saying he was the best parent earlier was a shot through the heart, this took out whatever was left. The question barreled straight through him like a train, leaving nothing behind but pieces for Sukuna to pick up. Each piece serving as a mistake in the way he’d raised the boys.

He knows all too well that this question comes from a place of insecurity, and while Choso’s mother may have laid the seed, Sukuna watered it. 

It was never intentional, he would never want Choso to feel that way, but Sukuna remembers the moment he likely solidified Choso’s insecurities all-too-well.

Three letters. Seven emails. Forty eight calls.

Make it forty nine.

“Fuck!” Sukuna slams his phone down on the table that was once his father’s.

The house that surrounds them feels foreign without his life.

Choso stares at the wood grain of the table, his eyes tracing the way it swirls. He’s long grown numb to Sukuna’s anger, especially over the past couple of weeks. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word.

He sat alongside Sukuna through each call. Through all fifty nine attempts to reach his mother, each one further solidifying Sukuna’s fate.

Sukuna, barely able to be considered an adult, is a guardian. By all accounts, he’s a parent.

Sukuna, who works for a cannabis dispensary. Sukuna, who never wanted a second family to begin with, who never wanted this responsibility, who never even wanted brothers, let alone kids, now bears the burden of fatherhood.

The legs of his chair scrape the wooden floor as he stands abruptly, running a hand over his face as he paces a small distance from the table.

He makes his way to the sink, turning the faucet to cold water and splashing it over his face. With dripping hands, he grips the edge of the counter and leans over the sink and his stomach churns and bile threatens to upend.

It wouldn’t be the first time since his father had passed away that his stomach had decided to empty itself.

With his jaw slightly ajar and his chest heaving, he pushes a wet hand through his hair, pushing himself back to his full height.

He wipes the water from his face on his sleeve, shaking his head in an effort to free his vision from his hair. His father had been so sick that Sukuna hadn’t had the time, nor the money, to bother with a haircut, or even shaving. His stubble, that of a boy barely considered an adult, is still uneven and leaves him looking as disheveled as he feels.

His eyes trail the length of the kitchen, which morphs into the living and dining room area, until they land on Choso.

The healthcare system had taken every last penny his father had left behind, and without the support of Choso and Yuji’s mother, he’s at a loss of where to go from here. Even disregarding money, he had to look up how to change a diaper. How sad is that? Looking up Youtube tutorials on what to do?

It’s not like he hadn’t looked after his brothers before, but his father never left him alone long enough to need to worry about that sort of thing. Now it seemed that changing a diaper was the least of his problems.

He teetered constantly somewhere between pissed off and lost and had no one to fall back on, something that became painfully obvious when he’d contemplated going to the hospital when his chest tightened so much that breathing was a forced effort. In the end, he’d been able to do little more than clutch desperately at his chest as he laid on the floor of the bathroom, the cool tile the only reprieve from his lonely agony.

He could reach out to Toji. Hell, he should. But when his father got sick, Sukuna pushed him away. He pushed everyone away. He thinks he’s more comfortable alone now, even if that leaves him staring at his little brother without a clue of what to do.

Choso hasn’t said a word to him since the whole ordeal occurred. The grief had taken its toll on Sukuna’s body and attitude, but it had completely silenced his brother. Although he still stuck around Sukuna, somehow still wanting to be around the grief and anger-stricken man, he never said a word.

The oldest brother cares. He cares a whole lot about his two siblings. Even if this isn’t what he ever wanted, even if he wasn’t prepared to handle the burden of two young kids. Even if he didn’t want siblings to begin with, Sukuna grew to care.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’s filled with contempt towards their mother for shoving the two boys onto him like this.

As he stares at Choso, a stark contrast to himself and their baby brother who both resemble their father, he sees her staring back at him. Choso and Yuji’s mother.

He shouldn’t have done what he did next.

He should have thought about his reactions.

He would change everything about how he acted towards his little brother in a heartbeat if he could.

But Sukuna, mentally, was on another plane as his lip curled in disdain. “Won’t fuckin’ answer,” he mutters, more to himself although he looks straight at his brother. “Some fuckin’ mother you’ve got, kid.”

As if on cue, Yuji begins crying from another room.

“Fuck!” Sukuna cries out again, trudging angrily across the kitchen to the toddler’s room.

Just in time to make sure he doesn’t see Choso’s tears.

Sukuna’s sure that moment replays in the boy’s head constantly. He sees it every once in a while, the seed of doubt that Sukuna watered that day, along with every other day before and following. He would give anything to take back how he acted. But what the hell does one expect from your stereotypical troubled teen who doesn’t know how to cook, hardly cleans, and has no one to talk to?

What the hell was Sukuna meant to do when he’d thrown up the previous night’s dinner and laid on the floor until he woke up in a sickening daze early the next morning to Yuji crying?

He hopes, prays, to whatever god on earth will listen, that he can make up for it. Make up for all the mistakes, all the problems. Make up for the ways he’d failed his brothers.

“I do, Cho,” he answers, the first certain thing he’s managed to say since they’d arrived home. “Promise.”

Choso’s grip tightens as his face collides with Sukuna’s side so hard he thinks the poor kid’s gonna bruise his nose.

“I love you, Kuna.” Choso’s voice is so quiet that Sukuna hardly makes out what he said over his little brother’s sobs.

Yuji parrots the middle brother, though his words come out a choppy mess behind his tears. “I- love-” sniffle, “- y- you, Kunaaa.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he gruffs, grimacing. He stares at the couch, his eyes flickering between the three indentations that have formed over the last three years. The material is significantly more worn on his side of the couch, the least worn in the center where Yuji likes to sit. In the back of his mind, something akin to guilt rears its ugly head and he continues his thought before he says something he regrets.

Or, more specifically, before he doesn’t say something and regrets it.

“Love ya both too.”

–

It takes a long time, but Sukuna manages to quiet both brothers down. As a treat, he buys them chicken from Strip Joint, which they were about as thrilled as two devastated young kids could be.

He’s not sure exactly how soundly they’ll manage to sleep, but he’s thankful when Yuji passes out fairly easily after a long afternoon of relentless tears.

Shutting his door behind him, Sukuna sighs as he’s finally able to catch his breath for what feels like the first time today.

He collapses onto his bed against the headboard, running his hands over his face.

Pulling his hands back, he stares at his palms, warm and wet.

Tears.

Is he so worn thin that he can’t even feel his own tears?

Shit.

He wipes his tears on the sleeve of his poor hoodie, which is covered in Yuji’s tears, snot, and spit, Choso’s tears, and now Sukuna’s too.

He pulls it up over his head, pushing his hair back out of his face. It’s getting long again, but Sukuna doesn’t have the time to deal with it.

He hopes to god that his previous transgressions from all those years ago don’t repeat themselves simply because Sukuna’s at wit’s end.

He scratches uncomfortably at his chest, desperate for a shower, anything to take his mind off of the shitty day he’s had. Undressing, he wraps a towel around his waist and walks down the hall to climb into the shower, splaying his hands on the tiles as hot water runs over his body, cleaning him of the dirt and grime that plagues his body, alongside some of the tension in his muscles.

He blinks his eyes open as water trails down his hair, falling in a steady stream down his chin.

The day feels like a blur.

His chest tightens as his muscles relax, a familiar feeling that he fears will leave him laying on the bathroom floor again.

It hasn’t been that bad in years. He didn’t think it would ever be that bad again.

Pushing himself up, he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and wiping water from his eyes as he finishes showering. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he slips back into his room, inhaling sharply as his chest seems to compress against his lungs.

Too tired to bother with the outside world, he slips under the covers without a second thought. He doesn’t bother to check if you made it home safe. He doesn’t bother to set out his clothing for tomorrow. He doesn’t even bother to set an alarm. He simply shuts his eyes and hopes to god that he can get a full night’s rest.

Unfortunately, that’s not in the books for Sukuna.

–

Much to your dismay, you don’t see Sukuna again until Friday, four days later. It took him nearly twenty four hours to get back to your message about being home, or the subsequent one the following day upon realizing he wasn’t at lunch, nor in class.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Tuesday, 5:29 PM im fine. cho didnt sleep. been a long day

You had grimaced and offered condolences, but at the end of the day, you suppose there isn’t much more you can do when he’s not looking for help.

That doesn’t mean Shoko didn’t have to drag you out to the mall and convince you not to show up at his door regardless. Thankful for her distraction, you indulged in getting yourself a new sweater and celebrated the fact that oh my god, your history prof from last semester was suspended for his (terrible) teaching methods?? If only the school had done that one semester earlier.

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t be nearly as close with Sukuna if that were the case.

Maybe that would have been for the best.

But the tightness in your heart tells you otherwise as you sit alone in your Literature History class.

It’s funny, that without Sukuna’s distraction beside you, you’re somehow finding it harder to focus without him in the chair beside you. Absently typing at your keyboard, you stare at the screen, your eyes trailing the notes you’ve been taking. They mostly make sense, but your brain must be working on autopilot, because you haven’t processed a single word the professor said.

Rubbing the crease between your brows, you do your best to tune in, chewing on your lower lip and narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do you any good.

The door at the front of the class loudly swings open and Sukuna barges in without a word, trudging straight up to your seat with his hoodie up.

“Class started twenty minutes ago, Ryomen.”

From your angle, you see the snarl on his face, you see the way he practically whips towards her with a world of stress in his eyes and the anger to match. But whether he chooses to take the high road, or simply decides it isn’t worth it, he manages only a measly “yeah. Whatever.”

He should consider himself lucky he isn’t sent away for that, but with only a disappointed grimace, the professor chooses to carry on.

“You’re here,” you whisper, as quietly as you can manage so as not to get him in further trouble.

He sighs. “Finally managed to get them to class today.”

“They haven’t been going to school?”

“Couldn’t get ‘em to,” he mutters, keeping his head low behind his laptop screen as he slumps back in his seat.

You glance at him, a sympathetic frown adorning your lips, but you keep quiet to avoid getting called out by the professor again. Sukuna keeps unusually quiet and withdrawn throughout the entirety of class, packing up as quickly as he came.

He’s on his feet and charging down the stairs before you have so much as a moment to with him.

“Ryomen! A word.”

You watch with dismay as Sukuna whips around angrily to the professor, grumbling out a less-than-thrilled “what?” as he reaches the last step near the door. “Make it quick. I got somewhere to be.”

You grit your teeth, watching with horror as the professor’s brow raises in disbelief at Sukuna’s attitude.

“Mr. Sukuna, if you don’t want to be here, you’re more than welcome to drop my class. You’ve made it very clear that this is not your priority, and-”

Sukuna drops his bag to the ground with a thud, as the students who haven’t already slipped out, including yourself, all watch the interaction in trepidation. “Yeah, you could say it’s not,” he growls. “I got other shit going on.”

“I can sympathize with that,” the professor replies. You have to applaud her patience with the man. “However, I have a class to teach. Whether you choose to show up or not is on you, however I’ll ask that you please don’t distract other students by arriving late.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, visibly biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. “Yeah. Sure,” he dismisses, turning to grab his bag. He slings it over his shoulder and slams the door ajar with his shoulder, barging out without another word.

You traverse down the stairs and chase after him, jogging to catch up to his long strides.

“Sukuna!” You call just before falling into step with him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he hisses, shooting you a glare. He falters when your expression recoils appropriately to his prickly reply. Sighing, he runs a hand down his face. “I’m fine,” he repeats, less edge to his tone this time.

“Oh. Okay. Um, are you still good to meet with Kento and his friend?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, clipped.

“That’s good,” you agree, nodding as you search for common ground, something Sukuna might be a bit more receptive to. “Did you want company while you pick up Choso and Yuji?”

He casts you a glance, his expression unreadable. “Up to you.”

He’s not making this easy.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing how they’re doing.”

He doesn’t even bother with a reply this time, he simply shrugs.

“Okay, um, I’ll come with you then,” you mumble hesitantly, gauging his reaction, but he remains silent, pulling ahead to walk in front of you as he heads for the doors and turns in the direction of his brothers’ school.

The silence no longer carries a familiar warmth, or even the relative discomfort from earlier in the week. It hangs over you like a fog now, uncertainty tucked within its blanket. Sukuna hardly seems to notice you’re there, never turning to acknowledge you nor straying off his path. Each time you contemplate talking, the words die in your throat at the sight of his tense jaw.

At least it’s warmer today than it was on Monday.

Standing at Sukuna’s side as you arrive at the school, you quietly examine his face. His eyes are sunken and heavy and his shoulders hunched as though the weight of his burdens are hardly being held up anymore. His eyes are glazed in a way that tells you his dismissive attitude towards you is because he isn’t all there, not present even within his own body.

Clearly the talk with his brothers has had adverse effects not only on them, but him as well.

Hesitantly, you reach out in hopes to ground him, setting a hand near his wrist, where the tips of your fingers graze his skin as they breach the edge of his sleeve. His eyes sharpen as he stares down at the contact of your hand.

Sukuna is accustomed to the way that your skin always seems to sear him. He’s chalked it up all this time to lust, but as the contact of your skin, so soft and gentle, just barely brushes his, he second-guesses himself for a split-second. As if on auto-pilot, he can only watch as he pulls his hand from his coat pocket, flipping it to brush the tips of his fingers against yours. Offering a comfort he isn’t familiar with, one that keeps him present, he fiddles with your fingers as you simply observe his face.

“Are you okay, Kuna?” You keep your voice low, your tone gentle as you take a step towards him, letting him run his thumb over your knuckles as he pleases.

It takes a moment, but he meets your gaze, really meets your gaze, for the first time today. His eyes fall again to your hand as he avoids your question. “They didn’t take it well.”

You nod slowly. “I didn’t think they would,” you admit with a tight-lipped smile. “The nightmares…?”

“None of us have slept.”

“I…” You grimace. “Can tell.” You gently squeeze the tips of his fingers that continue to fiddle with yours.

His chest rumbles in something akin to a laugh, though it lacks humor. “I figured goin’ back to school would do ‘em good, maybe help with sleeping. Cho wasn’t thrilled.”

“He’ll be alright,” you assure Sukuna, the school bell sounding from behind you. His fingers pause for a moment, before he drops his hand back to his side.

Yuji is one of the first kids out the door. He seems to be managing, although his usual energy is certainly dulled. He runs at full force straight into Sukuna, who picks him up with ease as the child clings to him.

“Missed you, Kuna.”

Sukuna hums, gently nudging the boy with his shoulder. “Look who’s here.”

Yuji lifts his head, flipping it around until his gaze finds you. He calls your name happily, though it’s still dulled from the usual excitement that surrounds him. His arms reach for you and Sukuna plops him down on the snow to let him run straight for you.

“Hey sweetheart,” you greet, kneeling before him to let him hug you. Reeling back, you gently brush his hair from his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” He pouts, shaking his head. His hair falls back over his forehead again, so you brush the stray pink strands from his eyes once more. “I miss my brother.”

“Hey,” you coo softly. “He’s not letting you go, honey. We’re going to meet one of my friends for some advice, okay?”

Yuji’s head tilts. “Huh? Advice for Cho?”

You mirror him, brow furrowed. “What’s going on with Cho?”

“He doesn’t wanna play anymore,” Yuji pouts, staring down at the snow under his little feet as he rocks side to side. His little cheeks are red, whether from the cold or unshed tears, you aren’t sure.

With a grunt of effort, you pull the little boy into your arms. He clings to you, burying his head into the crook of your neck as you turn to his older brother. “Is Choso okay?” You query, concerned.

“I’ll let you judge for yourself.”

You turn to the door where Choso emerges, his appearance ghostly. His movements are mechanical as he makes his way up to you and Sukuna. He shoots a glance up to you, but doesn’t acknowledge you otherwise, staring blankly off to the side as he waits for Sukuna to lead the way.

“Hey, Choso.”

Silence.

You frown, precariously balancing Yuji in one arm to reach down and gently run a hand over Choso’s hair. He blinks a few times, meeting your gaze. Although the boy traditionally looks tired, his eyes are devoid of warmth. He’s running on empty, completely gassed, and you can understand suddenly why all three of them had no desire to show up to classes.

“You know what I think this day calls for?” You shouldn’t be shocked to find that none of the three brothers reply, but Sukuna at the very least gives you his attention. “How do you three like cinnamon buns?”

“I like them,” Yuji mumbles into your shoulder, gripping your coat.

Well, at least one of them will give you an answer. If that’s the best you can get, you’ll take it.

“Great! You can get whatever treats you’d like, alright?”

Your enthusiasm is met with silence. This is one of those moments where it becomes glaringly obvious who raised the two boys.

Simply to fill the silence, you inquire with Yuji how his day went, plopping him onto the ground when he becomes too heavy to carry. He gingerly reaches for your hand, squeezing it as he talks about his day and a book his class has begun to read.

Yuji begins to drag your hand, falling further and further behind as he grows tired, practically trying to clamber onto your back as you stop to wait for a crosswalk.

Taking notice, Sukuna reaches down to pick up his little brother. “C’mere,” he mumbles as he lifts the child over his head until he’s sitting soundly on the man’s shoulders. You smile softly at the sight. They may not share a mother, but you’d hardly believe it. They’re like twins, only born several years apart.

Yuji idly tugs at Sukuna’s hair as he sits atop the man’s shoulders, a good six feet taller than where he usually stands. His older brother swats at his hands with a grimace, staring ahead as the boy settles and leans his torso on the back of Sukuna’s head.

You keep an eye on Choso, who begins to trail behind the closer you get to the cafe. You’re a good thirty minutes early, but you don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to have the kids listening into the legal discussion either way, so this will give you a chance to grab a table just for them.

Sukuna ducks as he walks into the cafe, ensuring he doesn’t smack his brother’s head on the doorframe, while you trail behind to wait for Choso. When his eyes meet your feet in front of him, they slowly trail up until he finds your gaze. It twists your heart, to see how blankly he stares at you.

“Hey honey. If you don’t want to talk, that’s totally fine, but I just want you to know I’m here.”

His eyes flicker between yours.

Kneeling down to his height, you smile softly. “Do you remember when you found that paperwork and I told you that your brother would talk to me if he needed help?”

Choso blinks a couple of times, and for a moment, you think that’s the most you’ll get from him, but he finds it in himself to nod.

“Well, he did come to me for help. We’re gonna meet my friends at the cafe in a bit and they’re gonna help your brother. He’s fighting for you. We’ll figure things out, okay?”

He nods again, taking a meager step forward before finding his way into your arms. You hug him back tightly and rub his back.

“Thank you.” It’s quiet and hoarse, you can tell he hasn’t spoken in a while. But it’s a step forward, and you’ll take it.

A knock on the glass grabs your attention and you pull back a bit to look up at the cafe window above you. The picture of stoicism, Sukuna stares down at you from within, pointing behind him with his thumb.

‘Got us a table,’ he mouths through the glass, before turning back towards the interior. You don’t catch a word he says, narrowing your eyes as you try to make out what he’s trying to tell you.

“He got a table.” Choso mumbles, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as you turn back to him.

“Is he, like- really bad at that?” You ask, smirking as you point a thumb in the direction where Sukuna was moments ago.

Choso nods, his smile turning up sliiiiightly more.

“And here I thought it was just me,” you grin, standing back up and leading the way to the back of the cafe where Sukuna’s got two tables reserved, one with four seats, and a smaller one with two. He must be on the same wavelength as you, having deliberately chosen a table with enough distance to keep the conversation private, while still having the kids nearby.

He pulls a stack of very ripped and wrinkled papers from his bag, setting them face down on the table as Choso crawls into a tall chair beside his brother. With an arched brow, you set your hand on the paperwork as you take a seat beside him, asking a silent question.

“You can read ‘em if you want.”

Flipping them, your eyes first skim the tape that holds each page together, then the contents themselves.

“What happened to them?”

“I was pissed.”

Clearly. But you keep that thought to yourself. You skim the contents of the legal documents, nails tapping against the faux wood grain table rhythmically.

Case No. 2493

Social File No. 34785-98

Next Court Date: March 23rd.

In The Matter of Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori.

Turns out, it only takes four sentences before you’re frowning at the page, the legal jargon a little bit beyond you. Of course, it’s not entirely illegible and you’re thankful you’re an English literature major, but the jurisdiction codes and notes are a bit beyond any English diploma.

“This is… a lot.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Sukuna mumbles, glancing at his watch. “We got some time, you want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks Kuna.” Keeping your head buried in the paperwork as you try to dissect an ounce of what the documents say, you chew on your lip as Sukuna drags his brothers to the counter before stepping off to the side to await his order.

With your head down and brow furrowed in documents, you don’t notice Kento standing opposite you with a decently sized box from your parents.

“Good afternoon,” Kento greets you, punctuating the sentence with your name. Your head whips up with a smile as you greet the two men. Standing beside Kento is another tall man with tousled short brown hair, sunken eyes, and a prominent nose. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with a blazer over top, which is about what you would imagine a law student wears. “This is Higuruma,” he introduces the man.

“Hiromi is fine,” he chuckles, surprisingly informal for someone leaning in to extend his hand to you.

Shaking his hand, you flash him a grin. “Nice to meet you,” you greet him, imparting your name. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hiromi chuckles kindly, taking a seat kitty cornered from you while Kento sits across from you. Hiromi has an air of tiredness about him that’s not entirely dissimilar to that of Sukuna.

Sukuna returns just in time, a tray of cups held high above the ground to prevent a certain young boy from dangling off his arm and spilling them.

That same young boy happens to be dangling off his other arm, though it hardly seems to weigh the man down as he easily holds both the boy and the bag of treats up. He mumbles something to Choso as he sets the tray down, making a motion for the boy to look in his backpack.

Kento and Hiromi watch in barely-masked shock as Sukuna gently directs the kids to a smaller table in the corner, handing them the bag of sweets and a cup of hot chocolate each. Choso tucks a couple of coloring books and markers beneath his elbow as well as they leisurely make their way to the little table in the corner.

With a heavy, tired, sigh, Sukuna takes a seat beside you, pulling the last two cups out and setting one in front of himself and one in front of you.

“Oh, I don’t-”

Ignoring you outright, Sukuna speaks up. “Woulda gotten you both somethin’ but I don’t know your orders,” he gruffs to the two men opposite him, his jaw tightening at the painfully obvious shock and hint of guilt that gleams in Kento’s eyes.

“That’s… Quite alright,” Kento clears his throat, introducing Hiromi and Sukuna to one another before passing you the box of belongings your parents had sent with him. Hiromi extends his hand again, though Sukuna’s not so eager to take it. It’s all a bit formal for him.

“So, I assume this has to do with legal questions,” Hiromi chuckles wryly as you take a sip of your drink.

Your exact order.

Sukuna remembered.

Sukuna hums, sliding the papers across the table without a word. Hiromi coughs once at the sight of the ripped papers, stifling a laugh at the unsightly state of them. It fades almost immediately as his eyes trace the Times New Roman that litters the page.

With a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning over the table.

“Right. Before we start, I need to make something clear. What I’m doing right now is illegal as a student, so you can’t breathe a word that I was here,” he states firmly, hollowed eyes flickering between the both of you.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Sukuna mumbles, amusement pricking the edge of his tone.

Hiromi glances back at the kids, catching his meaning. “They’re yours, then? Legally, I mean?”

“Yeah.”

Hiromi sighs again, nodding. “I see. Give me a moment to read these.”

“In the meantime, can I get you both something to drink?” You ask politely.

“Coffee, black, please,” Hiromi replies, leaning over the table on his elbow as he tilts the first page read over a rip, casting the glare on the tape elsewhere.

“That will be fine for myself as well, thank you,” Kento smiles kindly. He waits until you’re out of earshot to speak to Sukuna while Hiromi reads. “She cares about you a great deal, you know.”

A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw ticks. He had a feeling this was coming, though he’d hoped you simply wouldn’t leave his side. He can only avoid his mistakes so long, it seems.

“She’s a good friend.”

Kento’s reaction gives nothing away, his observant expression looking for a break in Sukuna’s aloof features, any sign that he’s the shallow asshole Kento had taken him for. When he doesn’t find it, he nods slowly.

“She is. She deserves that same treatment back.”

Sukuna’s lip twitches, bordering on a snarl that he only holds back out of courtesy of the blonde doing him a favor. “I’m aware.”

Kento sighs, his posture relaxing in his seat as Sukuna bites his tongue, matching Kento’s sigh with a striking glare. “Listen, I believe that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, and given how close she is to both of us, I’d prefer to be on friendly terms.”

“Mm.”

Gathering that Sukuna isn’t one for words, Kento continues. “I see now that there are…” he pauses, his eyes sliding to the right where the two kids are quietly coloring. “Extenuating circumstances behind what happened and I may have misdirected my anger. So, I apologize.”

Sukuna quietly observes Kento’s surprisingly sincere apology, nodding slowly. “I appreciate you lookin’ out for her.”

Sukuna doesn’t exactly verbally accept the apology, but that’s not uncharacteristic of him. Besides, he can’t exactly hold a grudge against the man who’s helping him in a legal battle. 

“Of course. Let it be known, however, that if you hurt her again, I will not take it so lightly.” Kento adds grimly.

Sukuna huffs. “‘Course.”

“Great.” Kento extends a hand as an act of good will.

“Can we cut the formalities? They aren’t really my deal.”

Kento cracks a smile, nodding. “Sure, Sukuna.”

The sounds of the cafe make for a relatively comfortable silence in spite of Hiromi’s obvious discomfort of the conversation happening over his head. The sounds of the coffee machines, clinking of glasses, and slamming of fridges help to make the environment a little easier on the three men.

“Alright,” you plop down in your chair once more, “two black coffees.”

Both men thank you as you settle beside Sukuna.

“How are the kids?” You quietly ask, leaning back to glance at them.

Sukuna shrugs. “Coloring Spider-Man probably. They seem fine.”

“Alright,” Hiromi taps the stack of unkempt papers against the table, grabbing a pen from the pocket of his blazer and a stack of sticky notes from his pocket. Somehow that’s just so law student that you find yourself with a lopsided smile as you watch. “I’ll need a bit of extra info, can I ask some questions?”

Sukuna slides back in his chair, grimacing to hide his disdain for needing to share his personal life. “Shoot.”

“Right. So, I’ll need the relationships of everyone involved in their lives. Parents, grandparents, and siblings.” He positions his pen to take notes.

Sukuna, begrudgingly as ever, sighs. “Kaori and Jin Itadori are their parents, Jin passed away three or so years ago,” he begins, his leg tapping beneath the table. You’ve noticed he seems to do that whenever the subject of his father comes up around people he isn’t comfortable with. “I’m their half-brother. Father’s side.”

Hiromi nods, writing away with his pen.

“No family remaining on the father’s side apart from myself. They got an uncle and aunt on the mother’s side, as well as a grandfather, I got no contact or names for any of ‘em.”

Hiromi glances up, his eyes sliding towards you. “And your girlfri-”

“We’re friends. She looks after ‘em sometimes,” Sukuna interrupts, keeping his gaze straight ahead. You’re grateful he does, your cheeks absolutely alight with heat. Pulling your hands politely into your lap, you fiddle with your fingers.

Sensing he may have hit a sore subject, Hiromi scratches the back of his neck. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, returning to his notes. “Right. How’d you end up with custody to begin with?”

“Their mother moved for a job before Yuji turned one. When I reached out when our father passed away, she didn’t respond.” Sukuna keeps his replies short and simple, only divulging what he needs to.

Hiromi pauses for a brief moment to stare at Sukuna, as if in disbelief. Kento’s expression matches, but he quickly clears his throat to keep the conversation going. “And the contact with their uncle and aunt? Grandfather?”

“They ain’t my family. I don’t have contact. Lawyers tried, no answer.” He shrugs.

Hiromi jots down more notes, pointing the back of his pen towards Sukuna. “That’s good for you, by the way.”

Sukuna nods slowly, though he’s unable to let his guard down regardless.

“What methods of contact did you use?”

Hiromi clicks his pen a number of times and Sukuna crosses his arms over his chest. “Email, mail, and phone.”

“Was she in communication before Jin passed?” Hiromi queries, leaning over his notes.

Sukuna pauses, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I think so. I don’t have Jin’s phone anymore.”

Hiromi hums, scratching his jaw as he takes down notes. “I see. Are the kids…” he pauses, swinging the end of his pen in the direction of their table, “aware of this?”

Sukuna visibly tenses. “Yeah.”

Gingerly, you slide your leg closer until it’s sidled next to him. Although he doesn’t react, his bouncing leg slows to a halt, as does the subtle shaking of the table. You smile to yourself that you’re able to bring him the comfort he stubbornly refuses to ask for.

“Did she come to you first before sending these over?” Hiromi asks, making a motion towards the legal documents.

Sukuna shakes his head.

“Right. That should do it for the petitioner’s side,” Hiromi hums, tapping the back of his pen against his notes. “Let’s talk about you and your brothers.”

“My favorite subject,” Sukuna grumbles.

Hiromi offers a sympathetic smile. “I get it, believe me. I’m a pretty private person, too. Now, what’s your major?”

“History.”

Hiromi’s brow raises. He seems somewhat surprised, though he doesn’t voice it. “Got anything lined up for when you graduate?”

“No.”

“I assume you’re working as well.”

Sukuna grits his teeth, fed up with the overly personal questions. “Yeah. I’m a mechanic and I stock shelves.”

Hiromi leans on his arm as he jots that down. “You’re a busy guy,” he mumbles, met with Sukuna’s glare at the unhelpful commentary. Hiromi seems unphased, chuckling. “Sorry, my bad. Do you own or rent?”

“I rent an apartment.”

“Three bedroom?”

“Two.”

“Got it. Alright,” he sighs, running both hands through his hair and leaning back in his chair until it’s precariously balancing on the back two legs. With a thud, the chair slams down onto the floor. “Sounds like a fairly standard case. There’s a number of things here that’ll work in your favor, but-” he pauses, wording his statement carefully. “Trying to win a guardianship case against their biological mother isn’t something I would call easy.”

Sukuna nods.

“Let’s go over the basics. She’s trying to claim them as her right as their mother, but she’s also claiming you’re unfit for guardianship on two counts, lack of funds and irresponsibility. That means you’ll need to prove otherwise on both counts, while also convincing them that the right place for the kids is with you,” Hiromi states, shuffling the opening page aside to briskly scan the second page. “At the end of the day, the judge will choose what’s right for the kids. The mother will have a bit of a leg up on you since she won’t have to fight any claims of ill-doing.”

Sukuna frowns. That doesn’t exactly bode well for him.

“You’ve got some good things going for you, though. You should have a record or be able to pull a record of your contact with her. Having two jobs, although not ideal, has its merits as well. Your brothers are clearly both healthy and I assume you’ve kept them in school as well and you’ve had them for three years now, that’s a strong argument.”

“There’s a ‘but’ somewhere here,” Sukuna frowns.

“There… is,” Hiromi agrees, running another hand through his tousled hair and disheveling it further. He leans forward, picking up the stack of legal papers. “I’m assuming the reason she took a job overseas in the first place is for money. She’s paying for a good lawyer,” he points out, setting the paper back down on the table and sliding towards Sukuna. “They’re expensive for a reason, and they’re not just the best in the city. They have national renown.”

Your heart sinks at the sound of that. “So, pro-bono…?”

“It’s certainly an option,” Hiromi avoids your gaze as he replies, something that doesn’t sit well with you. “Legal clinics and pro-bono are meant more for standard cases-”

“You said this was standard,” Sukuna contains his growl, his voice strained. His leg presses hard against yours, his anger contained with all the strength of a bottle cap.

“It is, on paper. The problem here that I’m concerned about is her choice of lawyers.” He taps his pen on his notes as Sukuna drags his hands over his face in exasperation. “They aren’t… exactly known for losing.”

“Fucking... Just fucking great,” Sukuna gripes, leaning over the table on heavy shoulders. He downs what’s left of his coffee, pressing a thumb into the crease between his brows.

“I would be willing to bet that she purposely chose to spring this on you before the kids are old enough to testify.”

“Choso isn’t old enough…?” You query with a frown.

Hiromi slides the legal papers back towards himself, looking over the listed birth date. “No, he’s one year off, and even if he was, you would still need to convince them he’s mature enough.”

“Fuck,” Sukuna sighs, his chest tight. “So my odds aren’t good then, are they?”

Hiromi watches his words as he scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, they’re not ideal. I’d say two to one, but not impossible. You do have a lot going for you.”

“What do you think he should do?” You ask softly.

Hiromi sighs. “Your best bet will be to really lean in on the fact that you’ve had them for three years because she never replied. Call your cell carrier and get phone logs if they’ve kept them, grab any copies of letters sent, pull up emails, anything you can to prove you reached out.” Hiromi pauses, setting his pen on the table as he takes a sip of coffee. “Pull up every record you have that proves the kids are in good health. Things like vaccination records will go a long way. If you can get your employers to write letters detailing your work ethic, that’s worthwhile too. Anything to prove you’re fit.”

Great. His employers get to know about his brothers. Everyone gets to see into Sukuna’s personal life.

Just fucking great.

Sukuna leans hard against his hand, roughly rubbing his eyes. “Sure,” he huffs, swinging a hand through the air. “Why the fuck would she be doing this in the first place?” He leans back suddenly, whipping his hand through the air in exasperation. “Three years ago it wasn’t her fuckin’ problem, so what changed?”

Hiromi flips to the third page of the documents. “If I were to guess, she wants the government grants for childcare.” His eyes skim the second paragraph on the page, pausing as he thinks over what legal code the paperwork is recalling. “I assume you get that right now with two dependents.”

“Yeah, it pays my fuckin’ rent. She’s got money, though, what the fuck changed?”

Sukuna’s clearly running out of patience, to no fault of Hiromi’s, but he’s completely unphased by him. Whatever type of law he’s going into, he must be accustomed to this kind of behavior.

With a tight-lipped smile, Hiromi shrugs. “All I can do is guess. I don’t know.”

Sukuna rakes a hand through his hair. “So, what the hell do I do about the pro-bono thing?”

“I have some contacts that I can recommend that might give you a break on the cash side, but yeah. I’d recommend against going the free route. I really don’t think you’ll have a foot to stand on if you do that.”

Sukuna stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the tile flooring. It echoes loudly around the little cafe, pulling all attention towards him, but he pays it no mind. His brow twitches, crimson eyes filled with distress. “How expensive are we talkin’?”

Hiromi frowns sympathetically. “Two months’ rent I’d guess, though they may cut you a break but it’ll depend on how long you spend with them.”

Looking between the kids and Sukuna, you can see the questions rising from them as their brother holds the cafe’s attention. In an effort to keep everyone calm, you brush your fingers gently against Sukuna’s wrist, your nails dragging softly over his wrist tattoo. “Take a seat,” you urge him, pointedly tilting your head towards his little brothers, who are both staring at him with wide eyes.

Sukuna inhales sharply, taking his seat again. “Is that the high or low end of your guess?”

“High,” Hiromi tries to assure him.

“Great,” Sukuna growls, his anger directed at no one in particular.

“Is there anything else we should know?” You query quietly in an effort to keep the conversation from Choso and Yuji.

Hiromi taps his fingers on the table in thought. “I get it, Sukuna, I really do, but you need to have the patience of a god in court.” Sukuna’s teeth grit on instinct. “A judge won’t take kindly to a mouthy defense. Only speak when spoken to. Got that?”

Sukuna scoffs with all the dramatism of a man falling apart at the seams. “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Thank you, Hiromi. This is a huge help, really.”

He offers a kind smile. “It’s no problem, really. But remember, you got this info online or something,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ll have Kento send you some of my contacts.”

“Thank you. And no problem, this was nothing more than a helpful websearch,” you giggle, checking on Sukuna in your peripherals. He’s staring at his little brothers, the sound of clinking metal muffled by his pocket as he opens and shuts his lighter.

You give him a nudge, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. “Mm. Thanks, Hiromi.”

Hiromi, clearly sympathetic to what Sukuna’s going through, smiles. “Happy to help. Thanks for the coffee.”

You say your goodbyes and gather the kids’ belongings and the box from your parents, offering Sukuna a ride home. It’s chilly and getting dark, and the last thing you need is for a man not in his right mind to try to walk two scared kids home.

Fuck, what a situation he’s in.

He accepts your offer with a nod, letting you lead the way and chat with the kids as he trails behind.

The ride is quiet. Even by Yuji’s standards, it’s painfully quiet. He points out some street art of a monster with a crown that he likes, but it seems to be the most even the five-year-old can manage. Their whole family is emotionally drained.

Even by your standards, you’re running on empty at this point. There’s only so much emotional strain you can handle and between the concern that had distracted you all week and a long day of walking on eggshells around Sukuna, your social battery is running low too. There’s only so much you can handle when the man in your passenger seat has nestled his way into your heart and left an irreparable hole in which only he could fit.

Your heart can only handle so much distant love.

It became increasingly clear over the past week that his absence was making your heart grow fonder. Although you were apart for a while after Christmas, his continual emails sated the part of you that craved him so desperately. Without that, a chasm opened and swallowed you whole, unable to fight it for even a moment.

Still, even in the bone-weary silence of your car, being surrounded by Sukuna and his sweet little family holds a temporary bandage around the pieces of your heart. It’s flimsy at best, fleeting as it begins to unravel with each disheartening snap and gripe that comes from Sukuna, but you can’t blame him when his entire world is caving in around him.

Hell, you can’t even begin to worry about the pain the squeezes your heart when he’s barely holding it together beside you. Usually the face of stoicism, yet his well-put-together seams are cracking, revealing his facade not just to you, but to everyone.

Sukuna’s door swings open the moment you park as he stumbles on his feet as though your vehicle had been claustrophobic. He sets a large palm on the hood of your car to steady himself, dazed.

Pushing down the uneasy feeling building in your chest, you keep calm as you lift Yuji out of the back seat and watch him run over to Choso, getting on the tips of his toes to whisper something into Choso’s ear.

Rounding the car, you try to grab Sukuna’s attention, the look of helplessness on his face catching you off guard as he makes a point of hiding from his brothers. His grip on your car is unyielding, his knuckles white from the effort of holding himself upright.

“Keys?” You whisper quietly. He blinks a couple of times, his chest rising and falling startlingly quickly as he fumbles in his jacket pocket with his spare hand. “I got it.” Gingerly reaching out, you slip your hand into his pocket, careful to pull out only his keys and not his lighter.

Jogging up to Choso, you smile reassuringly. “I just need to talk to your brother. You two go upstairs for me, okay? Lock the door behind you.”

Choso nods, pausing to peek past you at his older brother. There’s a silent question in his eyes that he won’t voice. Whether that’s a trauma response or that he knows you understand, you can’t say for sure.

“He’s okay, don’t worry sweetheart,” you reassure him, ruffling his hair.

He puts his trust in you with a half-hearted attempt at a smile and grabs Yuji’s hand to lead the way into the building.

The sun has mostly set over the horizon at this point, casting dark purple hues over Sukuna’s tattooed cheeks. He hunches over the hood of your car, leaning his body so heavily over the vehicle that it dips under his weight. He exhales shakily, dragging his hands down his face.

In your best effort to comfort him, you gently rub his back. His muscles are taut beneath the down of his winter coat, his back rising and falling just a bit too quickly for your comfort.

“Sukuna?”

He forces himself upright, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck!” He barks, taking a step away from you to pace along the side of your car. His mind is a jumbled mess and he doesn’t know how to make sense of the thoughts that seem to relentlessly batter him, leaving him with a heaving, tight chest, searing anger, and something he can’t put a name to.

Anxiety.

“Sukuna?” You try again as his pacing grows erratic.

“Fuck, I don’t fucking-” he stammers, fists balling at his sides as he struggles not to launch the closest thing to his hand into the wall. Again. He doesn’t need to break his lighter twice in only a couple of months.

You take a step towards him in an attempt to disrupt his pacing course, but he simply turns on his heel in the other direction.

“That fucking-”

“Sukuna!” You jog around to face him, gripping the open front of his black coat and stopping him abruptly.

“What?” He snarls breathlessly, pulling back against your grip.

You don’t relent, keeping him in place although you know he has the strength to tear himself from you if he wanted.

“Can you breathe, Kuna?”

He tugs against you once more, gripping the top of your vehicle. It’s cold on the pads of his fingers, a sharp contrast to the blazing heat his body is overproducing. He doesn’t, can’t, reply to you, but you don’t need him to, the answer is written plain as day for all to see.

He’s panicking.

He’s spiraling downwards harshly and his anxiety is taking along with it the strong front that Sukuna has worked relentlessly to maintain. His own body is forcibly breaking down the walls he built not only to keep himself safe, but also his brothers.

His body is begging you for the help he’d never ask for, lest he suffer alone.

“It’s okay if you can’t,” you soothe, your voice low and gentle as he leans against your car. “Sit down in the back of my car,” you urge sternly, attempting to tug him towards the back door.

He forcefully pulls back out of your grip. “I’m not my fuckin’ kid brothers, don’t fucking treat me like them,” he hisses, fire swirling beneath the surface of his eyes. It’s a meager attempt to mask his distress.

You frown, unmoving as you contemplate how to help someone who doesn’t want your help. Someone who doesn’t want pity or sympathy, who wants only respect and nothing less.

It doesn’t matter how much respect for him you have when looking back at him he sees only sympathy in your eyes.

“Please, can we talk? It’s cold out here, just sit in the back of my-”

“For fuck’s sake, what the fuck is there to talk about?” He yells, whipping his hand through the air. He reels back, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I can fucking handle things, stop sticking your nose in my damn business,” he hisses in a strained tone, rubbing at his chest in discomfort.

Your eyes trail down to watch the way he clutches at his shirt and pulls the collar from his neck as though it’s choking him, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to breathe. “Sukuna, I know you can handle things. Just listen to me, okay?” His eyes snap to you. “Have you had a panic attack before?”

“I’m not havin’ a fucking panic attack, christ, just- gimme some fuckin’ space,” he backs away from you, walking over to his apartment building’s exterior and rummaging through his jacket pockets in search of cigarettes. He pulls out a small cardboard box, flipping it open with shaky hands and muttering a curse under his breath as he comes up empty. He tosses it at full force into the building, leaning his head against the wall a moment later as his vision grows white at the edges.

“Sukuna,” your tone is firm as you come up behind him. “Please sit.”

By some miracle, he flips until his back can slide down the wall and he’s finally sitting, his gaze fixed nowhere in particular behind you.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you lower yourself down to your knees to sit in front of him. Thank god. Even as the cold snow melts beneath you and seeps into the warmth of your pants, chilling the skin of your knees, you push through. Setting your hands on his forearms, you rub soothing circles into them.

“Here, are your hands cold?” Sliding the tips of your fingers along his arm and raising goosebumps with your touch even through the barrier of his jacket, you gauge the temperature of his hands, nodding to yourself. “They are cold… here-” you lift his hand up to cool the back of his neck, which is overheating even in the below freezing weather. “I think that should feel good.”

It shouldn’t piss him off as much as it does that you’re right. It does help, leaving him completely at your mercy, as Sukuna himself doesn’t understand how to quell this feeling.

“Breathe with me, okay?”

He doesn’t react, but his crimson gaze falls to your chest, studying the rise and fall. You direct him by repeating a gentle “in… and out,” moving your thumb along his arm in time with your own breaths and instructions. He closes his eyes as the pain in his chest eases and he’s able to catch his breath.

Continuing to soothingly run your thumb along his arm, you carefully reach up to brush his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead. He stiffens briefly, but quickly relaxes without bothering to open his eyes.

Your heart twists at the intimacy of the situation, but it’s neither the time nor place to concern yourself with your own emotions.

You can handle the way your own chest tightens as Sukuna’s finger twitches and brushes your wrist, settling against the warmth of your skin.

You don’t dare interrupt the peace, giving him the time he needs to find his grounding. It takes him a few moments, but he moves his hand from the back of his neck, settling it on his knee. His gaze fixes on something in the distance as he takes a long, exhausted breath.

To your surprise, his arm that you’re still rubbing circles into flips and his thumb and fingers wrap around the circumference of your forearm. With a lopsided smile, you squeeze his arm back.

“Talk to me.”

With the sun completely set over the horizon, the only light that illuminates Sukuna’s face is that of the light over his apartment building. It glows faintly, flickering every so often with a golden hue that paints the broken expression on his face in such a way that even in this dire situation, he looks ethereal.

His gaze travels upwards as the light flickers again, the golden hue glimmering against the packed snow beneath your (very cold) knees. “I can’t afford a lawyer,” he mutters shamefully, his brow furrowed.

You contemplate your next words very carefully given Sukuna’s nature. “What can I do?” To help?

“Nothing,” he scoffs, his eyes not leaving the point where his hand connects with your arm. Even with a jacket between you, your presence brings him comfort. “I’ll figure shit out like I always do.”

“You don’t need to do this alone, Kuna.”

The glare he shoots you is sharp. “I can manage.”

“Manage until- until what? You have another panic attack?” Although your tone is still gentle, there’s a prickle to your words.

“I didn’t have a fuckin’-”

“Bullshit!”

Sukuna blinks. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard a curse leave your lips. There’s a fiery determination lit beneath you that he won’t quench with his distilled anger.

“You’re allowed to need help, Sukuna. It doesn’t make you weak.”

His grip on your arm tightens, almost uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how to take your words and his vexation is only growing. “I’ll need to take more shifts,” he mumbles.

“I’m here. If you need someone to watch the kids,” you offer.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he exhales slowly. As if coming to some sort of conclusion, he frowns. “You’re too kind, princess.” His tone is uncharacteristically weak and painfully distant. He squeezes your arm once, before dropping it to pull himself up off the ground. He brushes snow from his pants and coat and picks up the empty cigarette box crumpled on the ground. “I’m gonna head inside.” His gaze turns down to your knees as you follow suit and stand before him. “Go warm up and dry off.”

“Are you sure you don’t need-”

“I’m fine.” He assures you, turning towards the door without so much as a goodbye, but he thinks twice on this and pauses before he can enter his building. He examines your frown as he fights an internal debate. His sharp gaze traces your movements as you swipe your tongue over your lower lip and bite down on it.

He’s caught up on a strange inkling in his mind that doesn’t really make sense to him, but he gives pause to it.

Your lips look like a goddamn invitation. He’s not thinking about your body, or the way your skin sears him when you brush his hand. It’s something entirely else that he wants to act on, and all you’re doing is standing there, the picture of uncertainty as you fiddle with your fingers and chew on your lips.

Your god forsaken lips.

“Sukuna?” You meekly question, tilting your head.

He swears you could have the world if you truly wanted with just a tilt of your head.

It’s a shame Sukuna knows he doesn’t belong in your world. You’re too kind, you always have been. You’re like the syrup they drizzle over cheesecake, or the decorative sprinkles that top that shitty whipped cream that bakeries love to use. The sugar-free kind that doesn’t quite taste right and you’re not sure why they even bother with it, so they add the sweetest sprinkles to compensate.

Once again, Sukuna thinks about how you’re the sun, and he’s nothing more than a distant star sputtering out on the horizon. He doesn’t consider that every star is a sun to someone else.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Was just thinkin’. Thanks for organizing today, gave me a lot to work with.”

And with that, he’s pushing through the door before you can even tell him that he’s welcome.

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❦ a/n ; OOPS ALMOST 18K CHAPTER. honestly it just didn't feel right to end it before the discussion with higuruma and sukuna's reaction to it, so here we are. forgive me for the angst :((( i love these babies sm and it physically hurt to put them through this 😭 the support for this series has been so overwhelmingly lovely and heartwarming, i really can't thank you all enough. seriously, y'all are the sweetest and the comments and asks i've received about this series brighten my day every single time 🫶 anyway, ily all and i'm sorry 😭

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

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @kasukuna @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @coldluminarykoala

@ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears

@tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts

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@axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

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

[plaidcowboy]

𝛠 𓂅 RAFE CAMERON && little moments Ꮺ ⟡₊ ⊹

⊹ 𓈒 headcanons 𖧷 moments with you + rafe 𖧷 compliments 𖧷 𓂂 ﾟ ˖

❞ YOU stood in front of the mirror, trying to figure out the angle for the picture, the fitted dress you wore snug. rafe walked up behind you just then, pausing when he spotted you. he walked up behind you, admiring without touching. you took a few photos then of him gazing at you from head to toe. “so pretty, baby. you posting those?” you nodded, looking back to him. he nodded back, “tag me, i’m the dress.”

❞ RAFE took the handbag from you as you handed it to him mindlessly. “this is cute right?” you pressed a top you grabbed to your front, turning to show rafe. he analyzed it, brow tugging. “you said that wasn’t your color” you pouted, looking down to it. “but the lace is cute, right?” rafe nodded, hand coming up to graze his chin. “yeah, i like you in lace” you looked up to him as he grabbed the sleeve, assessing it. you stifled a giggle at his rapt attention. “this fits you, i want you in this in the other colors, too” you shrugged, “okay.” he grabbed it from you, glancing to the rack. “oh look baby, it’s a set. i’ll get you the bottoms, too.”

❞ RAFE couldn’t stop glancing up from the business call on his laptop. he had gotten up early for it, not expecting you to follow. but here you were, in his shirt and boxers, walking around like it was doing nothing to him. he titled his neck to the side, peeking up at you again, trying to see you over the screen. he muted the call when the attention was off of him. “take all of my closet, i’ll start over” you startled, glancing back to him. “start over?” he nodded, gaze still on his clothes. “i’ll buy more clothes. you can pick them out, i’ll wear whatever you want me to, then i want to see you in it.” he unmuted the call, responding to someone like he didn’t say anything.

❞ RAFE stepped back a little as you directed him to. you turned your head to the side, assessing your hair and outfit. rafe titled the phone as you stood up fully and turned a little to see the back of your outfit. he had the phone propped in his hands against his chest, the front camera facing you. “this good?” he had to get your angles right. you giggled, nodding. “mm hm. thank you.” it was his idea anyway, pulling out his phone when he noticed you touching up your appearance without seeing your reflection. his girl can’t worry about her looks. not when there was nothing to worry about you. look at you.

❞ RAFE stone faced the camera as you angled it in front of you two. you straddled, facing him, head against his neck. he went to press his face into your hair, still staring down the camera. you giggled, grabbing his chin to raise his head. “smile.” he immediately gave the camera a dazzling smirk at your request. you turned to kiss his cheek, snapping pictures in between when he spoke. “the camera likes you better, you’re the main focus. i’m just your decoration.” you gasped. “no, you’re my pretty boy. your smile is so handsome” you poked his cheek, him grinning shyly around it before speaking, “i’m your biggest fan, so i’m fangirling over you complimenting me.” he glanced to the side as you stopped the recording, catching his words. “posting this and exposing you.”

[requiemforthepoets]

lipstick kisses 𖦹 LN4

part 3 of dog dad lando series

PAIRING: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you would always get random cuteness aggression towards thor, but today, you might have smothered him too much, causing him to have lipstick kisses all over his face.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i wanted to post this first before i post the requests. if you have some request/prompts, feel free to send it and i’ll work on it. this is another one shot to the dog dad lando series, hope you’ll enjoy this one! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, cuteness aggression, all photos are grabbed from pinterest, and no use of y/n

The sound of your laptop closing echoed in the quiet apartment as you stretched, with your muscles relaxing after hours of your online meeting. It has been a very long day, but finally, you can unwind. With a sigh of content, you got up from your seat and changed from your formal attire to some comfortable clothes, which is one of Lando’s white shirts and some shorts. You quickly made your way to the living room, threw yourself on the couch and grabbing the remote, scrolling through Netflix until you landed on The Crown—your latest hyper fixation calling out for your name, and with Lando busy doing a stream with Max, the living room was yours.

Settling into the couch, you pulled a blanket over your lap, getting ready to immerse yourself in the drama unfolding on the screen. The room was dim, illuminated by the light from the lamp and the flickering light of the television. Not long after, Thor padded into the room, his fluffy white fur practically glowing in the low light. He jumped up onto the couch beside you, his big round eyes staring up at you as if asking to join in on your little Netflix binge.

You smiled, absentmindedly running your fingers through Thor’s soft fur while you kept your eyes glued on the screen. “Hey, buddy,” you whispered, feeling a wave of affection wash over you.

Your petting became more deliberate, and the next thing you knew, Thor was already nestled on your lap, gazing up at you with those impossibly cute eyes. Suddenly, you felt that all-too-familiar rush of cuteness aggression. The kind that made you want to squeal and squish something so adorable that it hurts.

“You’re just too cute, Thor,” you cooed, your voice rising an octave. You leaned down and began planting kisses all over his fluffy face. “How are you this stinkin’ cute?!” Another kiss. “How is this even allowed?” And another kiss. You were completely absorbed in showering your baby with affection, blissfully unaware of anything else.

Meanwhile, Lando had quietly stepped out of his streaming room for a quick break, intending to grab one of his drinks from the kitchen. As he walked towards the kitchen, he immediately paused when he caught sight of you on the couch. His lips quirking up in amusement, eyes sparkling as he took in the scene. There you were, in your mid-cuteness aggression, holding Thor and peppering him with kisses like you couldn’t help yourself.

Lando chuckled softly to himself, careful not to make any noise that would let you know of his presence. Instead of interrupting, he pulled out his phone and discreetly filmed the moment, capturing how you lovingly attack Thor with your kisses. Once he had enough footage, he saved it, already planning to post it on his Instagram story later. With a smirk, he quickly grabbed his drink and slipped back into his streaming room, shaking his head as he settled back into his gaming chair.

“You guys won’t believe what I just saw,” Lando said with a laugh, speaking to his chat. “She’s having a full-on cuteness meltdown over Thor in the living room. I’m pretty sure Thor’s drowning in kisses right now.”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, you finally pull away from Thor, your cuteness aggression fading as you let out a satisfied sigh. Thor jumped off from your lap, ready to do his own thing, and as you turned back to the screen, something caught your eye. You squinted at Thor’s fluffy white face. Lipstick marks. Everywhere. You burst out laughing at the result of your cuteness aggression, unable to control the giggles as you realized what you had done.

“Oh no, Thor!” You exclaimed, wiping away tears of laughter. You reached for the pet wipes on Thor’s cabinet of necessities. “Come back here! I need to clean you up, my love.” But before you could grab him, Thor was already scampering off—straight towards Lando’s streaming room.

“Thor!” You called, but he was too fast, already gone. You could only shake your head, stifling another round of laughter as you imagined Lando’s reaction when he saw Thor covered in your lipstick.

The sound of your voice calling for Thor grew closer just as he dashed into Lando’s streaming room, leaping onto Lando’s lap like it was his favorite spot in the world. Lando blinked in surprise, pulling his headphones slightly away from his ears and glancing down at Thor, now comfortably settled in his lap.

“Mate, what—?” Lando started, then burst out laughing as he finally took in Thor’s appearance. The once pristine, white snow fluff was now covered in your lipstick marks, a splotchy red all over his cute little face. Lando leaned forward to show Thor to his stream, his grin widening.

“Guys, look at this!” He chuckled, turning Thor toward the camera so everyone could see the incredible masterpiece. “Thor’s just been absolutely smothered by kisses. Someone’s been a little too affectionate.”

His chat immediately blew up with laughing emojis, hearts, and comments, with people demanding a closer look. Lando quickly grabbed his phone and took a photo, smiling as he saved it. He turned his attention back to the stream, about to read one of the chats, when he heard your voice calling out for This again from the hallway.

“Thor! Where are you? Get back here right now, I need to clean you up.”

Lando smirked, lifting Thor a little higher. “Looks like someone’s in trouble,” he said playfully to his audience, giving Thor a conspiratorial glance. “Running away from mummy again, huh? You sneaky sneaky little boy.”

Just as you stepped into the room, Lando shifted in his chair, still holding Thor in his lap. You stopped at the doorway, a sheepish smile on your face as you met Lando’s amused eyes. “He ran away,” you said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as you grinned. “I need to clean him up before he gets lipstick all over the place, especially on our white couch.”

Lando laughed, scooping Thor up and holding him out toward you as if presenting a prized trophy. “You’ve made quite the mess on him,” he teased. “I was just showing everyone your handiwork.”

You sighed dramatically, walking over to take Thor from Lando’s arms. “Sorry, love, I just got carried away,” you sheepishly smiled. “I couldn’t help it. He’s just too cute.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Carried away? Babe, you practically covered the poor guy in kisses. He’s never going to live this down now,” he joked, gesturing to the chat that was still buzzing with laughter.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you bent down to scoop up Thor. “Come on, little troublemaker. Time to clean you up before you end up on Instagram again.”

Lando’s fans greeted you warmly as you appeared on the stream, and you waved at the camera with a smile. “Hello everyone! Hi, Max!” You said, catching sight of Max’s face in the corner of the stream.

Max grinned. “Oh hey, look who it is! Caught you in the act, huh?” He teased, leaning closer to his screen. “You know, I think Lando’s just jealous. He never gets that many kisses.”

Lando feigned shock, gasping dramatically. “Max! That’s not true! I always get plenty of kisses, thank you very much.”

You shook your head with a laugh, wiping the lipstick marks off Thor’s face. “Well, if he doesn’t stop teasing me, Thor might just get more than him from now on!”

The chat exploded with laughing emojis and comments again, with Max laughing in the background while Lando pretended to sulk. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own girlfriend and dog,” Lando muttered, but his smile betrayed his amusement.

Once Thor was all cleaned up, you gave him a final kiss on the top of his head—much to Lando’s fake protest—and set Thor back on the floor. “There, all better. No more lipstick adventures for you,” you said, watching as Thor trotted off, likely planning his next trouble.

Lando’s eyes followed Thor, then flickered back to you with a fond smile. “You’re the best, you know that?” He said softly, barely loud enough for the mic to pick up, but it was enough to make your heart flutter.

You shot him a wink and gave him a soft peck on the lips before backing out of the room. “Have fun with your stream. Don’t let Thor distract you again!” You called over your shoulder, leaving Lando grinning as he returned to his stream.

“Sorry, guys. Where were we? Oh, right. Max, let’s go.”

landonorris

liked by yourusername, yourbestfriend, maxfewtrell, and 2,748,937 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris my girl suffered from cuteness aggression. what have you done to our son 🙂‍↕️ but don’t worry guys, he’s all good

view all 49,937 comments

yourusername our son is too cute, i can’t help it!!! 😔

landonorris he looked so traumatized by your cuteness aggression, love

yourusername he is NOT traumatized! in fact, he loved it very much

username1 thor living out his best life. getting all the love and kisses

username2 ma’am, you’re GLOWING

username3 can your man fight? yourusername

username4 PEAK CUTENESS

maxfewtrell just wait until you see the lipstick marks on lando next

landonorris you bet 😉

username5 THE LIPSTICK MARKS HEHDJSJS THE CUTENESS AGGRESSION MUST BE TOO MUCH LMAOOO

username6 can i just say that yourusername looks so fucking gorgeous???!!! lando, you lucky lucky lad

username7 thor is such a good boy 🥹

username8 look at that distinguished gentleman

yourbestfriend it’s one of those days, huh

landonorris oh yeah 😔

yourusername you can’t blame me for my cuteness aggression!!!!! not when we have a very very very cute son 😠😠😠

username9 idk if i’d be jealous of thor, yourusername, or lando tbh

username10 STOP THIS IS SO CUTE

username11 ma’am, we can see the level of cuteness aggression by lando’s video 😭😭😭

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

baddie!Reader ft Nanami

A/N: Depicted a few different body types in this one. Reaching out to all my faboulously-shaped curvy girls.

baddie!Reader that happens to stumble upon our resident Daddy inna local bread shop you thought to try out on the way home from a fun lil spa day. Clumsily colliding with Nanami after you recite your order and carelessly spin on your heel while taking a selfie. The piercing gaze as he looks down his sharp, straight nose at you has your coochie immediately screaming for a trip to pound 🍆 town 🍑 with extra turbulence ✈️ thank you very much.

baddie!Reader is so ready to slut Nanami's fine ass out within moments of meeting. Chiseled jaw. ✔️ Big hands. ✔️ Strong physique. ✔️ A nice fat bulge pressing against you gently as he holds you steady. ✔️✔️ You lick your glossy, lined lips and contemplate what position you're gonna fuck him in first, before even gettin this mans name chile!, when apologies stumble outta his pretty mouth. "Im so sorry. Please forgive me miss." Anxious eyes swiftly glancing at the outline of your nipple piercings.

Oh yeah.. Looks like you already have this handsome new stranger wrapped around your pinky.

baddie!Reader plays up the innocent coy act when Nanami offers to buy you a drink for his transgressions, batting your lashes and talking all sweet so he lowers his guard. "So Mr. Kento.. There a Mrs. Kento waiting for you at home?" Biting your lip and dragging a finger down the tendons on his big ass hand. "N-no, ma'am, not married. No one else. Just me.." You giggle at his nervousness, flicking wavy bundles over your shoulder. "Good to know, handsome." Need I say you don't leave the cute lil shop till you get his landline and cell.

baddie!Reader waits a week before finally gracing Nanami with a call. He's in a state of euphoria, thinking you'd forgotten about your lil exchange. "I could never forget you, Mr. Kento." "Please, Nanami is fine." More of a plea to you really, seeing as everytime you call him that his dick swells till it threatens to burst through it's confines. "So, Nanami. Besides missin me, any plans today?" He chuckles at that. "None actually. It's my day off. Have a friend thats needs a favor later. Nothing else. You?" You guys chat till your phone dies, to which he simply finds and hits you up on your socials, continuing your carefree conversation effortlessly. And even when you tell him you gotta go he stalks your socials, drooling over every single photo youve post. Doesn't even realize he's groping his chub, gawking at a string of lewd roleplay pic.

"Fuck me, babydoll, you're so fuckin gorgeous." Nanami huffs, pulling his cock outta his snug grey sweats. Unable to jerk it more than once before he's cummin like a hydrant allover his home office's desk, his nut spraying up your pretty face on his computer screen.

baddie!Reader that has a 6 sense of things and surprises Nanami with the perfect anecdote: a video call, late the same evening, teasing him in your sheer lil onepiece.

Embedding the notion that you've been thinking about him non stop dizzying his brain. "Couldn't sleep right now, you're all I can think about handsome." "Really? About- urm.. What about me?" The sexy tilt of your head as you chuckle makes Nanami wanna lick a path down your goddess like frame, taste every inch of your supple brown skin. "Can show you better than I can tell you, Nami." Cute lil nickname falling from your lips effortlessy, compelling Nanami to squeeze at the base of his cock through his pants with a grunt, really hoping not to nut a minute into this intriguing call.

baddie!Reader feels empowered witnessing a calm, stoic Nanami Kento lose his shit. All it took was a bit of peer pressuring, a simple exchange of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Now your kneeling at the edge of your bed, ass in the air as you ride slick fingers; laptop on the desk behind you, your new friend desperately pressed to the screen as he stares at the cream dripping from your slit to your wrist. "Wow.. You're so.. Wet. Never see one drip like that, honey. Hnnh.. Wish I was there with you, darling. Wanna make you cum for me so bad." Nanami's tortured groans join your noisy cunt, your empty insides fluttering to the wet sound of him fucking his fist. Fuck! Shameful you couldn't see him: his pinched expression, flushed cheeks, blonde bangs dusting his sweaty forehead, fat dick salivating, beating against his sticky palm as he begs you to let him see you cum.

baddie!Reader isn't satisfied from fucking your own fingers. Really puts on a show when you grab your heavy duty clit sucker. At first Nanami thinks he might prefer watching the prettiest chocolate pussy he's eva seen swallow up your dainty lil fingers over and over. That is, till you get your toy in place and all hell breaks lose! You're squealing and thrashing, moaning like his personal whore while squeezing a handful of your tit, repeatedly bucking your throbby clit into the intense suction. "Oh fuck- ohhhshit! Not gonna last, too fuckin close already, baby. Wanna see me cum, Nami? Hm? Use your words, handsome." You love how deranged he's become when obeying. "Yesyesyes! Show me how you do it. Spread those lips honey, wanna see it all." His bold ask is shocking. Gets you that much closer, so you spread your glossy fat lips and cream allover your pretty comforter, chanting Nanami's name like it's a fucking lifeline. You cum so hard you're just barely able to turn your head in time to see him stumble back from the force of his nut, eyes glued between your shaky brown thighs, thick cum spraying outta his swollen cock like a hose, the force of the pearly streaks of white blurring his expensive ass camera.

baddie!Reader sleeps like a baby after finding out you're the only bitch that's been made Nanami nut inna year. Wake up to tons of flowers and gifts on your doorstep, not even sure how he got your address, let alone delivered the costly mass before the sun rose. Oh well. You shrug, lugging your presents inside and reading the attached note. Roses are red, violets are blue, I enjoyed last night, how about you? Date at 8? Meet me at my place: [address] -Your Nami. Oh fuck yes! You like this daring side to the gentle man you met at the shop. Your quick to grab the closest jewelry boxes, kicking your feet while slipping on the thick diamond chains and watch, sending a quick text to your generous donor.

Thanks for the gifts, Big Daddy. Love em! Can't wait till 8. See you then. 🫦👅🍆 xoxox, y/n.

baddie!Reader shows up fashionably late at 8:10, smelling like Chanel and looking like money.

Nanami's brain short circuits soon as he opens his front door. He busted 2 fat ass nuts before you arrived yet here his is, bricked up in his black slacks within a nanosecond, silent tense ogling making you chuckle and sidestep him to enter his spot, gently tracing an acrylic across his buff pecs. "Gonna eye fuck me all night, or show me around Nami?" Soft teasing tone reminds him of the previous evening and he has to try counting all the curses he's killed to not nut untouched to your seductive charm. "Course, sweetheart. Look too damn pretty is all. That way, to the left." Nanami points, trying his best not to stare at the jiggle of your plump backside.

baddie!Reader thinks it's a real accomplishment that your actually able to put a muzzle on your greedy pussy, finishing the tour and dinner without try to suck Nanami's dick through his dress pants. It's so hard to ignore how Nanami oozines sex appeal and doesn't even know it! Kicked back on the sofa manspread, white button up rolled to his elbows, strong arms resting wide along the back of the sofa. You musta pressed your thighs together at least a hundred times, searching for the smallest bit of relief as he weaves an interesting intimate tale of who he is, though remaining somewhat vague about his work life. Then he's diving into you as much as possible before your suddenly in his lap, silencing his chatter with plush lips on his, swallowing his surprised grunt. "C'mon big Daddy, preciate your manners but I'm so fuckin empty inside. Lemme sit on it?" Nanami's deer in the headlights look as you massage his half-hard cock is a little less amusing this go around so your impatiently on your feet unbuckling Nanami's pants and yanking them to his ankles. "No underw- oh.. Fuuuck.. Really are Big Daddy, huh? Think you're gonna stretch me out sooo good. Ready to get your dick wet, Nami?"

baddie!Reader most definitely bit off more than you can chew messin with this man! He fucks you like a demon, making you embarrass yourself by bussin on his wide mushroom tip the 3rd stroke in. Now he's standing in front of the couch, forcing you to bend and grab your ankles; gripping your tiny lil dress thats pulled up to your neck, yanking you back on his thick dick, completely unremorseful how he digs into you. His tip knocks into your spongey depths and steals your breath. You wanna stop squealing, but it feels like he's in your fuckin throat. "Na-na-miiiii, uhn, pleease, baby! S-slow down, gonna break meee!" But Nanami's lost his composure completely, growling in agreement, eyes crazed with the pressure compressing his girth. "No, y/n, nuh uh. No man could do that. Pussy's way too damn good.. You don't know what you're askin of me, sweetheart." It's a luxurious squeeze he couldn't dream up of if he tried, guts brewing with the sweetest nut he's eva felt. He's so selfish in this moment, reaching to pull you inna mean arch by your dark soft bundles, speeding the clash of his powerful hips against your round ass. You're reaching back, holding at Nanami's wrist, pleas babbling into nonsense as his length swiftly pounds inside, beats your syrupy lil pussy up till your eyes cross. "Shitshitshit! Haaah.. H-honey? You on birth control? Mm? .. ahhh-! Y/n, darling! Please tell me I can't knock this good ass pussy up.. Cause I'm gonna cum." Unaware that you're zoning out; legs numbing, tongue wagging, the grip on your fit and hair the only support keeping you upright. "Y/n, babydoll.. Need you to answer- FUUUCK!" You're spontaneous orgasm has him jackhammering your poor lil pussy a dozen more times before convulsing, jabbing in once more, grinding a fat load so fuckin far inside you. Prolongs your bliss seeking his own, abandoning your dress to wrap around your tummy and pull you close. "'M so sorry, darling.. Don't know what came over me. You okay?" He murmurs at your ear, still pumping you full, smiling triumphant when you hum at him uselessly, head lolled back on his shoulder. "Heh.. Fucked you up good, didn't I?" You don't even hear his taunts, fat dick penetrating you so deep you think cums gonna spill out ya ears.

baddie!Reader that breaks Nanami's heart by not spending the night after the way he molded your coochie to his cock. But chu a bad ass bitch that leaves em wantin and much as you like Nanami, that shit ain't gone change. He still blows you up by the time you get home and your pussy pulses sore soon as you text and he asks when he can see you again. You tell him you're free next week to which he promptly freaks the fuck out and calls you. "Just kidding, Big Daddy, damn.. Got a few errands to run in the morning but you can come over after." Nanami's got no shame in thankin you profusely, promising to get you a copy of his black card tomorrow if you let him swing by in the morning instead. His filthy ass even has the nerve send one last text when y'all finally hang up:

NomNom: Should've spent more time on those pretty tits 2nite. Send me sumthng to say gn, sweety.

You: Yes, Nami. 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼

You: [y/n has sent a photo]

A/N2: Should we part 2 it?? 🤔

[ambers-archive]

got love struck ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .˚ ✧ ˚　

in which spencer wants your anniversary to be perfect, but everyday is perfect with you. word count: 2.1k cw: purple scarf cameo, idiots in love, fluff, happy ending, established relationship. (english isn't my first language, minimal proofread!) pt1 what if all i need is you (can be read as standalone)

Spencer closed the tab on his computer, a frustrated scowl forming on his lips. For days, he’d been scouring the internet, spending sleepless nights hunched over his desk, searching for the perfect anniversary gift for you. It was your first year together, and everything had to be perfect.

But nothing felt right. Every idea he considered was quickly dismissed. He shut his eyes, trying to quiet his overthinking mind.

You two met at his favorite coffee place, he noticed you right away when he realized you stole his seat. 

You had yourself perched against the chair nuzzled against the rest of the wall. 

And after a week of ogling you across the room he finally got enough courage to start a conversation over a book you were reading. Then with shaky fingers and some mumbling he finally had the courage to ask you out, suggesting a tour of the city since you just moved.

Spencer knew his demanding work schedule wasn’t easy on you. You were so patient, understanding, and kind—perhaps too kind, he often thought. Canceled dinner dates, postponed trips, missed laughs, and missed love were all too common. Yet despite it all, you always met him with a reassuring smile.

“I know you’re busy saving lives,” You had told him once, as the two of you cuddled in bed after the third missed date in a row. He hadn’t had anything better to offer than a string of apologies, and he feared one day it wouldn't be enough.

“Hey pretty boy, what’s got you so upset?” Morgan asked, his voice pulling Spencer out of his thoughts.

Spencer took a moment to collect himself before turning to Morgan. “I’m trying to figure out a good anniversary gift for her.”

In a room full of profilers he didn’t think they’d be so keen on his social cues, but of course they noticed him constantly fidgeting and sneaking quick glances at his phone. 

Emily was the first to find out about you.

The teasing lasted months.

Penelope was rushing toward his desk with her tea in one hand and Morgan’s coffee in the other.

“You have to go all out!” Garcia exclaimed, barely containing her excitement. “Chocolates, flowers—oh, please tell me you’ve got the whole day planned!”

“Calm down, baby girl,” Morgan laughed, taking his coffee. “I’m sure our genius over here has something in mind.”

Spencer sighed. “I want to make it special since it’s our first anniversary, but I just don’t know what she’d like.”

“Well, what are her love languages?” Penelope asked, ready to unleash her vast knowledge of relationships.

“I think it’s quality time,” Spencer replied, a small smile playing on his lips as he thought about you. “She’s always engaged in our conversations, making strong eye contact, putting her phone away, asking questions. She also lingers after dates.”

He paused, recalling the moments you’d linger on your doorstep after he drove you home, the way you’d breathe him in after a kiss, your forehead resting against his. “She never seems in a rush to leave, like she values every moment we spend together.”

Morgan grinned, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look. “There you go, pretty boy. Think about what she loves, what makes her happy. That’s the key.”

Spencer nodded picked up his phone, scrolling through the list he’d made of all your favorite things.

He stopped on a picture of you smiling back at him from the screen, a photo he’d taken during one of your many picnics. Your hair had been flowing in the wind, your eyes crinkled with your smile as you explained the meaning behind one of your favorite songs. It was the same photo that graced both his phone and laptop backgrounds.

“She loves almost every kind of art,” he whispered, his heart swelling with affection. “Renaissance literature, realism paintings, classic books. And she’s really outdoorsy too.”  He whispered, his heart expanding, pumping. thump, thump- laced with love.

He thought about the countless picnic dates, the times you’d coaxed him out of bed for a run or a hike. His mind wandered to what you might be doing right now—your second class of the day had likely started, and he imagined you taking notes, doodling in the margins.

Penelope and Morgan exchanged amused glances, their lips quivering with smiles as they listened to Spencer’s lovesick ramblings.

“Looks like Reid’s got it bad,” Morgan whispered to Garcia, who stifled a giggle behind her hand.

“He really does,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Spencer hadn’t seen you in two weeks, four days, twenty-three minutes, and fourteen seconds—far too long. He didn’t want to waste another moment as he approached your door, your favorite flowers in hand. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait another second, as you opened the door before he could even knock.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. Every day, he found himself falling for you more and more. You gave him a shy smile, stepping out to wrap your arms around his taller frame. He hugged you back immediately, burying his head in the crook of your neck. When you finally pulled apart, he took a proper look at you, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight. In that moment, and in every other, you were the epitome of beauty—a vision that left him utterly mesmerized.

“These are for you,” Spencer said softly, offering you the peonies. He realized they paled in comparison to you, but nonetheless, he held them out.

“You never forget them, Spence,” you said, your voice equally soft. Spencer chuckled, half-offended that you’d think he ever could—eidetic memory or not.

“I’m glad you like them,” he replied, taking your hand as he led you to his car, opening the door for you. “I have the whole day planned.”

“Yeah?” Your head rises of its own accord against the car seat. 

"I really want it to be perfect." 

It’s already perfect because how much better can it get you thought? You're in his car, your favorite songs playing in the background and his hand never leaves your side. 

“It already is.” You say grazing your thumb over his knuckles. 

You finally reach the place away from everyone else. “There’s a trail nearby and a perfect place for a picnic.” Spencer whispers, slipping his hand into yours again. 

It fits so perfectly.

You smile, squeezing his hand “Lead the way.” 

In a field of daisies Spencer pulls out a blanket, carefully placing his gifts as he pats the spot next to him. You nestle against his taller frame, he smells like sandalwood, coffee, and home. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him, he smiles down at you playing with your hair absentmindedly. 

“You. Always you.” You get the familiar, but nevertheless oh-so welcome kick in your stomach every time he smiles at you. 

“What about you?” He asks in return, and you shrug, not able to convey all your emotions. 

“I'm thinking that I want my gifts.” You say slightly pouting.

With a shy smile, Spencer untangled himself from you and reached for the presents. He handed you a beautifully wrapped package and a small painting, both wrapped with care.

“I hope you like them,” he said, his voice tinged with nervousness.

Your eyes lit up as you unwrapped the gifts, revealing a limited edition of Sylvia Plath’s work—a book you’d mentioned offhandedly that you’d been searching for. Your gaze met his, overflowing with emotions you hadn’t known were possible. You always believed in love, but this? This was beyond anything you’d imagined. It made all the heartbreaks of the past worth it because they led you to him.

You abandoned the gifts, flinging yourself into his arms. He laughed, catching you as you both tumbled onto the grass. Spencer buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you close.

“They’re perfect,” you whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “I’m glad you like them,” he replied, still holding you.

“How did you even find it?” you asked, marveling at the book.

“Brittney Johnson—remember the missing persons case we solved? Her dad’s a book collector. He was really grateful and said if we ever needed a favor, he’d be happy to help.”

You smiled, touched by his thoughtfulness. You’d spent so long building walls around yourself, convincing yourself you didn’t need a relationship. But with Spencer, those walls crumbled before you even had a chance to put them up.

“I also wrote you a card, my handwriting isn't the best, but I know you like words of affirmation” Spencer said, reaching into his bag. But before he could present it, dark clouds gathered overhead, and raindrops began to fall, dampening the ground.

“Seriously?” Spencer groaned, quickly sheltering you with his jacket. The chocolate and sandwiches were ruined, along with your clothes. The two of you hurried to the car, making sure the gifts were safe, and finally found shelter inside.

“I’m sorry our picnic was ruined, angel,” Spencer said, helping you fix your hair.

“It’s not ruined, Spence. We can have a night in, order some Chinese, and finish a new episode?” you suggested, trying to cheer him up.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed, though he couldn’t hide his disappointment as he started the car.

𐙚 ✱ ❤︎ ࿐ ۫ .

Back at your apartment, the two of you hurried inside, drenched from the rain. You kicked off your shoes and quickly disappeared into your bedroom, returning with dry clothes for both of you. You handed Spencer his sweater, the one you’d “borrowed” long ago, and couldn’t help but smile as he accepted it.

“Hey, I was looking for this,” he said, pulling on the warm sweater.

“Sorry I stole it,” You replied, not the least bit apologetic.

He shook his head, following you to the kitchen, where you were setting up takeout containers on the counter. The sweater smells like you and he thinks he should let you keep it. It smells like cherries, winter warmth and like the love of his life.

“I love that you did. I feel closer to you whenever I wear it.”

You blushed, grateful he couldn’t see your flushed cheeks as you turned to grab plates. Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“This isn’t how I planned our anniversary,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

You turned in his arms, cupping his cheek as you gazed into his warm eyes. “Spence, it was perfect. It’s not about the flowers or the gifts or the picnic. It’s about being with you.”

Before Spencer could respond, you gently stepped out of his embrace, suddenly remembering you still had his gift to give.

“I have a surprise for you,” you said with a smile, rummaging through the gift bag. You walked back to him, holding up a beautifully knitted purple scarf.

“My mom’s been teaching me how to knit, and this is the first thing I made. It’s for you. I know you get colds easily, and keeping your neck and chest warm can help reduce the shock of inhaling cold, dry air, which irritates your respiratory tract. I even stitched my name on the end, so a part of me is always with you.”

Spencer’s face lit up as he accepted the scarf, immediately noticing how it carried your familiar scent.

“This is so thoughtful,” he said, his eyes soft with appreciation. “I don’t think anyone’s ever been this concerned about my colds. Although, just so you know, wearing a scarf alone won’t prevent you from catching a cold. Colds are caused by viruses, usually spread through respiratory droplets or by touching contaminated surfaces.”

You smiled at his rambling, finding comfort in the way his mind worked—it was like a love language all its own. Chuckling softly, you wrapped the scarf around his neck, adjusting it just right.

“It’s the thought that counts, angel,” he said sincerely, his voice filled with warmth. “It’s already my favorite scarf.” He then brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to them.

It's in the quiet, messy, beautifully imperfect moments like this, spencer thinks: where love is felt in every heartbeat, every glance, and every shared breath.

thank you so much for reading <33

[levandright]

And oh, how I'd love to go Paris again

pairing : jake x f!reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : non-idol au, love at first sight, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers(not stated but heavily implied), tension, they're in love your honor, fate reference/mention, can be read as either hs or uni au its up to you ୨ৎ word count : 5.9k

synopsis. you're overwhelmed with your school finals close by, while you are taking a short break from your studying, you couldn't help but reminisce about your precious memories in the city of love when a song that reminds you of your time in paris play. ୨ৎ lev notes : the class trip may not be 100% accurate but its for the plot okay... i had to make it inspired by the 1975 cause i love them too much not to do so + it fits with how i literally have them as my top artist this year :3 (i started writing this days earlier before spotify wrapped lol) also i literally had paris on loop for like 7 hours in total while writing this... anyways hope y'all like this cause it took a lot of brain power to write it, trust i will post what the heart wants as soon as i finish a surprise fic im working on rn ꒰⠀for @sugarikiz event 'ʏᴏᴜʀ ℰ𝓎ℯ𝓈 ᴏɴʟʏ ☁︎.𖥔 ' ꒱

you're at your school's library, cramming for your upcoming finals. with a little over a week to prepare for months' worth of lessons across multiple subjects, the pressure is taking quite a toll on you. two cups of coffee sit beside your laptop, one already empty. even though you've been studying for less than 40 minutes, you already feel the urge to down all the caffeine left in front of you just to keep from dozing off again.

sigh, 'just gotta finish this whole powerpoint. then, i can finally relax for a bit' you silently hype yourself out. with the reward of a break for an hour of studying, you quickly go through the entire lesson in a flash.

grabbing the not empty cup of coffee, you take a much needed sip to keep yourself awake for more hours of studying.

a while later, you're stretching in your seat after having finished with that specific powerpoint. 'finally i can take a break' you think to yourself

as you sit, and stare at your laptop's screen. contimplating on what to do to pass time, you decide to play music to relax yourself.

clicking the shuffle button on your playlist. you put your headphones on and rest your head on your arms, as the familiar tune of paris by the 1975 play.

the music pulls you into a memory, that unforgettable class trip to paris.

꒰ and oh, how i'd love to go paris again ꒱

you’re on the bus, the city outside the window slowly coming to life. everyone in your class is chatting excitedly, pointing out landmarks and planning what to do when you finally get off. the eiffel tower is getting closer, its towering frame making your heart race with excitement.

“can you believe we’re actually here?” keeho says, leaning over to nudge your shoulder. his energy is infectious, and you can’t help but smile.

hyunjin, sitting across the aisle, snaps a quick photo through the window. “this already feels unreal,” he says, grinning. “i’m going to fill my camera roll today.”

the bus comes to a stop, and your teacher announces a short break to explore the area. the three of you quickly stick together as everyone spills out onto the cobblestone street. paris feels alive—the air smells like fresh bread and coffee, and the chatter of locals blends with the hum of passing cars.

“we need food. let’s find a café!” keeho declares, already marching toward a row of cozy-looking places with outdoor seating.

you follow, laughing as hyunjin drags you by the wrist to keep up. he’s scanning every building, taking quick snapshots of anything that catches his eye. “wait, stand here,” he says suddenly, pulling out his phone to snap a candid photo of you and keeho in front of a flower shop.

“are you going to take pictures the whole trip?” you tease.

“obviously,” hyunjin replies, unbothered. “someone has to document how good we look in paris.”

eventually, the three of you settle at a small café. the waiter brings over menus, and you all take a moment to soak it all in. keeho orders a slice of cake, hyunjin gets a croissant and coffee, and you decide on a simple baguette sandwich.

“okay, this is officially the best food i’ve ever had,” keeho says after his first bite.

“it’s just cake,” hyunjin says, rolling his eyes but stealing a forkful anyway.

you laugh as they bicker, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. sitting there with your best friends, surrounded by the magic of paris, everything feels perfect.

after finishing your meals, you and your friends head back to the bus to regroup with your class. the energy is buzzing as everyone talks about their plans for the rest of the day. your teacher announces that the next stop is a famous museum nearby.

the museum is grand, with high ceilings and beautiful architecture that makes you feel small in the best way. inside, it’s quieter, with your classmates dispersing into smaller groups.

hyunjin immediately pulls out his camera again. “this lighting is perfect,” he mutters, snapping a photo of a sculpture in the corner.

keeho rolls his eyes with a smirk. “he’s gonna be like this the whole time.”

“he’s consistent, at least,” you joke, earning a laugh from keeho as the two of you start wandering through the exhibits together.

the artwork is stunning—paintings that feel alive, sculptures that seem to breathe. you and keeho take your time strolling through the halls, sharing your thoughts on each piece.

“i don’t get this one,” keeho says, staring at an abstract painting.

“it’s open to interpretation,” you reply.

“so… the artist spilled paint everywhere?”

you nudge his arm. “be serious!”

keeho grins but then glances around. “hey, i’m gonna find the bathroom real quick. don’t get lost.”

“sure, sure,” you say, waving him off.

as he walks away, you wander aimlessly, letting your feet carry you through the museum’s winding halls. you stop to admire a large painting of a serene countryside when, out of nowhere, you bump into someone.

“oh, i’m so sorry!” you blurt out, taking a step back.

the stranger turns to you, and your words catch in your throat. he’s tall, with warm eyes and a gentle smile. his presence feels calm, yet somehow magnetic.

“no worries,” he says, his voice warm and calm, with a hint of an australian accent you catch right away. “are you okay?”

you nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “y-yeah, i wasn’t looking where i was going.”

he chuckles lightly, brushing it off. “happens to the best of us.”

he pauses for a moment, as if waiting to see if you’ll say anything else. you manage a small smile. “thanks for being so nice about it. i’m—uh…” before you can finish, keeho’s voice rings out from somewhere nearby.

“hey, y/n! where’d you go?”

the spell is broken, and you glance over your shoulder to see keeho waving at you. turning back to the stranger, you offer an apologetic smile. “that’s my friend. i should go.”

“of course,” he says, still smiling. “take care.”

you hurry off toward keeho, your heart still racing. as you rejoin your friends, you glance back briefly to see the stranger walking away. something about the moment lingers, a small spark you can’t quite explain.

after regrouping with keeho and hyunjin, the three of you continue exploring the museum. hyunjin has finally tucked his camera away, much to keeho’s relief.

“didn’t think i’d ever see the day you’d stop taking pictures,” keeho teases.

“i’m just saving space for later,” hyunjin retorts, grinning. “besides, i want to actually enjoy this.”

the three of you move through the museum, pausing at different exhibits. keeho offers more of his hilarious “critiques,” while hyunjin points out details you might’ve missed. for a while, it feels like time doesn’t exist, just the three of you soaking in the beauty of parisian art.

after some time, you excuse yourself to find the restroom. as you leave, keeho calls after you, “don’t get lost again!”

“i won’t!” you call back with a laugh, shaking your head.

once you step out of the restroom, you turn a corner and nearly bump into someone again.

“oh—sorry!” you start, looking up. and there he is.

the boy from earlier.

“you again,” he says with a warm smile, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“yeah, me again,” you reply, feeling your face heat up.

“i guess we’re just destined to keep running into each other,” he jokes, his tone light and teasing.

you laugh softly. “seems like it. i never got your name earlier.”

“jake,” he says, extending his hand. “and you?”

“y/n,” you say, shaking his hand. his grip is gentle but firm, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“nice to officially meet you, y/n,” jake says, his smile widening.

the two of you start chatting, the conversation flowing easily. he tells you he’s here with his own group, visiting from another school all the way from australia, and you share a little about your own trip. his voice is calm and steady, and his subtle humor keeps making you giggle.

at one point, he gestures toward a nearby painting. “what do you think of this one? please don’t say the artist spilled paint everywhere.”

you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “no, no, that’s keeho’s specialty. i actually think it’s kind of beautiful, in a chaotic way.”

“good answer,” jake says, grinning.

before you know it, the sound of footsteps and familiar voices echo down the hall. “y/n! where are you?” keeho calls, his voice unmistakable.

you glance in the direction of the sound, then back at jake, your smile faltering slightly. “that’s my friends. i should go.”

jake nods, his expression soft. “of course. it was nice talking to you, y/n.”

“you too, jake,” you say, stepping away reluctantly. as you walk toward your friends, you can’t help but glance back once. jake is still standing there, giving you a small wave.

you rejoin keeho and hyunjin, who immediately start teasing you for taking so long. but as the three of you continue exploring the museum, you can’t stop thinking about jake. and though you don’t say it out loud, you quietly hope that fate will bring you together again.

it’s been a day since the museum, but your thoughts keep circling back to jake. his kind smile, the way he made you laugh, and that unmistakable australian accent—it’s all stuck in your head.

after dinner with your classmates at the hotel, the buzz of chatter feels overwhelming. you decide to step outside for some fresh air, hoping a quiet walk will help clear your mind.

the streets of paris are calmer at this hour, bathed in a soft, golden glow from the streetlights. a small park just down the road catches your eye, and you wander toward it, settling onto a bench beneath a tree.

you sit there for a while, letting your thoughts drift. the cool breeze carries the faint scent of flowers, and the distant hum of city life feels oddly soothing.

suddenly, you feel someone sit down beside you. you glance over, and your heart skips a beat.

it’s him.

jake.

the boy you couldn’t stop thinking about.

he notices your surprise and gives you that same warm smile. “hey,” he says casually. “fancy seeing you here.”

you blink, struggling to process the coincidence. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he says with a light chuckle, leaning back against the bench. “i was out for a walk, saw this park, and thought i’d sit for a bit. didn’t expect to run into you again.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head. “paris must be smaller than we think.”

“or fate has a funny way of working,” he says, his tone teasing but his eyes sincere.

the conversation flows naturally from there. he asks about your class trip, and you tell him about your visit to the museum and all the places your group plans to see next. he shares stories about his own class, laughing about his friends’ antics and the moments that make the trip memorable.

“you’re telling me someone actually fell asleep in front of the mona lisa?” you ask, barely holding back laughter.

“yup. full-on snoring,” jake replies, grinning. “the security guard didn’t know whether to wake him or leave him there.”

the two of you laugh together, the sound blending into the quiet of the park.

after a while, jake stands up. “wait here,” he says, his tone playful but mysterious.

“where are you going?” you ask, watching him walk toward a nearby food stand.

“you’ll see,” he calls back over his shoulder.

a few minutes later, he returns, holding two neatly wrapped chocolate crepes. he hands one to you with a grin. “figured this would make the moment even better.”

you take it, smiling at his thoughtfulness. “thanks, jake. this is perfect.”

as you both sit there, enjoying the crepes and chatting under the parisian sky, you can’t help but feel like this moment is something straight out of a dream.

the days in paris pass like a blur, filled with sightseeing, laughter, and the magic of simply being in the city. but the most unexpected highlight of your trip that osn’t on the schedule—is jake.

you can’t quite explain it, but somehow, you keep running into him. these little moments have become the thing you secretly look forward to the most.

────୨ৎ────

you’re standing at the counter of a small café, debating between ordering a croissant or a pain au chocolat. the decision feels monumental, and you’re entirely lost in thought when a voice interrupts you.

“go for the pain au chocolat,” jake says, appearing beside you with an easy smile.

you blink, startled at first, before breaking into a grin. “jake? what are you doing here?”

“getting breakfast,” he says, holding up a cup of coffee and a bag. “didn’t think i’d see you again so soon.”

“neither did i,” you reply, chuckling. “are you always this lucky, or is paris just this small?”

“maybe both,” he teases. “need help deciding?”

“i was leaning toward the croissant, but now i feel like i have to trust your judgment.”

“always trust the chocolate,” he says, nodding sagely.

you laugh and order the pain au chocolat. as you wait, the two of you chat, his humor making the simple café feel like the best spot in paris.

────୨ৎ────

a couple of days later, you’re wandering through a mall with keeho and hyunjin, trying to find souvenirs to take back home. keeho is busy debating between two scarves for his mom, and hyunjin is glued to his phone, looking up recommendations.

you drift toward a small kiosk filled with handmade trinkets, running your fingers over delicate keychains.

“don’t tell me you’re buying one of those cheesy eiffel tower keychains,” a familiar voice says behind you.

you spin around, your heart skipping a beat. “jake!”

he’s holding a bag of his own, filled with souvenirs. “fancy meeting you here.”

“again,” you add with a laugh.

keeho spots jake and gives you a knowing look, while hyunjin just raises an eyebrow before wandering off. you try to ignore them and focus on jake instead.

“what’s in the bag?” you ask, nodding toward his purchases.

“just some stuff for my family,” he says. “and maybe a keychain or two.”

you laugh. “i thought you were against cheesy keychains.”

“only when other people buy them,” he says, his grin mischievous.

────୨ৎ────

the park has become your little escape, a quiet place to think and reflect. you’re sitting on the same bench as before, lost in thought, when you hear footsteps approach.

“do you have a permanent spot here, or are you waiting for me?” jake’s voice breaks through your daydream.

you turn, smiling as he sits down beside you. “maybe both.”

“lucky me, then,” he says, leaning back and looking up at the sky. “so, what’s on your mind today?”

you hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. “just… thinking about how much i’ve enjoyed this trip. and how strange it’ll feel to leave.”

jake nods, his expression softening. “yeah, i get that. it’s been a lot, hasn’t it?”

“yeah,” you say quietly, and for a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence.

that evening. your teacher gathers the entire class in the lobby of the hotel to deliver the news.

“you’ve got two days left to enjoy paris before we head back home,” she says. “make sure you start packing your things and grab any last-minute souvenirs.”

the room fills with murmurs of excitement and relief. most of your classmates are thrilled to return to canada, and part of you is, too. but as you head back to your room, a bittersweet feeling settles in your chest.

two more days. that’s all the time you have left before you have to say goodbye to jake.

you don’t know why the thought stings so much, but it does. and now, more than ever, you hope for one more chance to see him.

────୨ৎ────

the second-to-last day in paris feels like a blur of excitement and nostalgia. you, keeho, and hyunjin make it a mission to visit as many places as possible, squeezing every last drop out of your remaining time in the city.

as the three of you step into the vintage store, you're greeted by the faint smell of aged leather and a mix of retro music playing softly in the background. the shop is packed with everything from old records to racks of vintage clothes and shelves lined with random knick-knacks.

“okay,” keeho announces, clapping his hands together. “this is the place to find hidden gems.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “hidden gems or overpriced junk?”

“you just don’t have the vision,” keeho shoots back, already digging through a rack of jackets.

you wander toward a glass display case near the counter, something catching your eye—a vintage digicam. it’s small, sleek, and looks like it’s been well cared for. you kneel to get a closer look, curiosity piqued.

“hey, what’d you find?” keeho asks, appearing beside you with a leopard-print scarf draped around his neck.

you point to the camera. “a digicam. looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?”

keeho leans in, inspecting it. “very cool. are you gonna get it?”

you hesitate. “i don’t know… do you think it still works?”

“only one way to find out,” hyunjin says, suddenly appearing on your other side. he gestures to the shop owner, a kind-looking older man, who unlocks the case and hands you the camera.

you examine it closely, turning it over in your hands. the lens looks clean, and the buttons feel intact.

“how much?” you ask the shop owner.

“twenty euros,” he replies with a smile.

keeho gasps dramatically. “a steal! you have to get it.”

“yeah, before someone else does,” hyunjin agrees, casually flipping through a rack of shirts.

you laugh at their enthusiasm and decide to go for it. “alright, fine. i’m buying it.”

as you hand over the cash, keeho strikes another pose with the scarf. “what do you think? parisian chic, or should i stick to my usual?”

“stick to your usual,” hyunjin says without looking up.

keeho sighs, draping the scarf back onto the rack. “you two have no appreciation for drama.”

you test out the digicam, snapping a quick photo of keeho mid-pout. the image pops up on the tiny screen, surprisingly crisp for something so old.

“perfect,” you say, showing him the photo.

keeho grins. “okay, maybe you do have an eye for the dramatic.”

hyunjin wanders over with an oversized sweater, holding it up against himself. “thoughts?”

keeho wrinkles his nose. “are you auditioning for a grandpa role?”

“i like it,” you say, defending hyunjin’s choice.

“thank you,” hyunjin replies, smugly tossing the sweater over his arm.

the three of you spend a bit longer in the shop, goofing around and trying on random hats, sunglasses, and jackets. you snap more photos with your new camera—keeho wearing an old captain’s hat, hyunjin attempting to look cool in aviator sunglasses, and a candid shot of the two of them laughing together.

by the time you leave, the bag with your new camera swings lightly at your side, and your heart feels full. the memory of this moment—just you and your friends being unapologetically yourselves—already feels like a keepsake all its own.

at a small crêperie, hyunjin’s crêpe is covered in whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.

“how are you even holding that without it falling apart?” you ask, staring at the overloaded treat in wonder.

hyunjin shrugs. “skill,” he says simply before taking an enormous bite.

keeho watches in horror. “that’s going to end up all over your shirt, and i am not letting you borrow mine.”

“you sound like my mom,” hyunjin says through a mouthful of crêpe.

by the seine river, you take turns with the digicam, capturing moments that feel like they belong in a movie. keeho makes exaggerated poses on the bridge, while hyunjin tries (and fails) to look mysterious.

when it’s your turn to hold the camera, you take a candid shot of the two of them mid-laugh. it’s perfect—pure and genuine, a reminder of how much these moments mean to you.

“alright, photographer extraordinaire,” keeho says, pointing dramatically at the eiffel tower in the distance. “get my good side.”

“you don’t have one,” hyunjin jokes, earning a glare from keeho.

as the day winds down, you find yourself lingering outside the hotel while keeho and hyunjin head inside.

“we’ll be in the lobby if you need us,” keeho calls over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look.

once they’re gone, you make your way to the park. the same bench, the same tree, and this time, jake is already there, waiting.

he stands when he sees you, his smile soft but bright. “hey.”

“hey,” you reply, walking up to him. “beat me here this time, huh?”

“had a feeling you’d come,” he says, shrugging.

you sit down beside him, the quiet of the park wrapping around you like a blanket.

“you’ve been busy,” jake comments. “i saw you earlier near the seine with your friends. looked like fun.”

“it was,” you say, smiling at the memory. “trying to cram everything into one day, you know? time feels so short now.”

jake’s expression shifts, just slightly, and you know he understands what you mean.

“speaking of time…” you begin, hesitating. “we’re leaving tomorrow. my class is flying back home.”

jake nods slowly, his gaze dropping to his hands. “i figured it was coming. my group leaves the day after.”

there’s a pause, the kind that feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

“do you think we’ll meet again?” you ask softly, not daring to look at him.

“i hope we do,” he replies, his voice quiet but firm.

the weight of his words lingers between you, saying everything that neither of you can.

you pull out your digicam, breaking the tension with a small smile. “can i take some pictures? you know, to remember this?”

jake’s face brightens slightly. “of course.”

you snap a few shots—some posed, some candid. jake laughing at something you said, jake looking off into the distance, and finally, one of the two of you together, taken with his help.

as the night deepens, you know it’s time to go. you stand, reluctantly. “i should get back before my friends come looking for me.”

jake nods but doesn’t move. instead, he reaches out, gently taking your wrist.

“wait.”

you turn, surprised, as he pulls something from his jacket pocket—a pair of silver rings, simple and elegant.

“for you,” he says softly, slipping the smaller one onto your right hand’s ring finger. the fit is perfect.

your heart races, words failing you as he looks at you, his gaze full of unspoken meaning. then, he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“goodbye, y/n,” he murmurs, stepping back.

it takes you a moment to find your voice. “goodbye, jake.”

as you walk back to the hotel, your mind replays the moment over and over, the cool metal of the ring on your finger grounding you in the surrealness of it all. that night, lying in bed, you can’t help but wonder if the universe will bring you and jake together again someday.

꒰ paris again, and again, and again, and again, and again ꒱

a tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you lift your head groggily. you blink, trying to focus on the person standing in front of you. it’s keeho, grinning mischievously, while hyunjin stands behind him, sipping his americano with a slightly amused expression.

“y/n, what are you doing?” keeho asks, leaning in and waving his hand in front of your face.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “i’m taking a break. i can’t even keep my eyes open for more than a minute.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “yeah, we can tell. you’re practically sleeping at your desk.” he leans against the back of your chair, his voice cool but teasing. “how about you stop pretending to study and actually join us for once?”

keeho’s grin widens as he jumps into the conversation. “we’re heading to a café to study, and you’re coming with us. you need a change of scenery.”

you groan, feeling your body resist the idea of leaving the comforting quiet of the library, but deep down, you know you’ve been at it for too long. a change of pace might be exactly what you need.

“come on, y/n,” keeho insists, his voice full of that playful energy you can’t ignore. “we’ll make it more fun. you can’t study like this. plus, you’ll probably get more done with us around.”

you hesitate for a moment, your mind torn between the need for a proper break and the looming pressure of your exams. still, you can’t deny how much you need a little distraction. “fine,” you sigh, finally giving in. “but if we end up just talking the entire time, i’m leaving.”

hyunjin chuckles, giving you a knowing look. “i think you’ll be okay. we’ll actually study this time. promise.”

keeho grabs your arm, pulling you up from your seat with a playful tug. “good, because you need us to keep you sane. now, let’s get out of here.”

as the three of you leave the library, you let out one last sigh, knowing that even though you might not get as much studying done as you hope, you could definitely use the company.

the café is warm and inviting, the soft hum of background chatter mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods. it’s a stark contrast to the quiet, studious atmosphere of the library, and you find yourself breathing a little easier as you step inside.

you find a small corner table and set your laptop down, letting out a contented sigh as you settle in. keeho and hyunjin head to the counter to order, leaving you to fidget with your feet, trying to shake off the weight of the past few hours spent studying.

your eyes flicker to the window, watching people pass by as you idly tap your fingers against your coffee cup. eventually, you stop, catching sight of the ring on your right hand.

you pause, fingers tracing the smooth metal, your mind drifting back to paris. “it’s been three years since that time in paris,” you think to yourself, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. the memory feels distant now, like a dream you’re not quite sure was real.

you wonder if jake still remembers you, if he thinks about you at all. you’d been so wrapped up in the magic of those moments, so caught up in the fleeting connection between the two of you, that you’d completely forgotten to exchange socials, to keep in touch.

a soft laugh escapes you, tinged with frustration. you can still picture your past self—so carefree, so caught up in the magic of the moment, never once thinking about the things you should have done. and now, years later, it stings.

the photos you took back then are all you have left—memories frozen in time, but still, you find yourself wishing you had more. a way to bridge the gap between then and now, something more than a ring on your finger that’s become a quiet reminder of what you left behind.

a soft laugh from keeho breaks you from your thoughts, and you glance up to see him and hyunjin walking toward the table, their arms full of coffee cups and pastries. keeho places your cup down in front of you, his expression softening when he notices the faraway look in your eyes.

“you okay?” he asks, settling into his chair across from you.

you smile faintly. “yeah, just… thinking about paris.”

hyunjin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. he simply places a croissant in front of you and nods. “we’ll make it through these finals. paris will still be there when you’re done.”

you nod, but the bittersweet smile remains on your face, the question still lingering in the back of your mind. will you ever see jake again?

you manage to get some work done, but there’s plenty of laughter and light-hearted banter between you guys. hyunjin and keeho constantly bicker over the most ridiculous things—whether iced coffee is better than hot coffee, or if studying with background music is productive.

“you’re seriously telling me you don’t like the classics?” keeho says, shaking his head dramatically. “what kind of music do you even listen to, hyunjin?”

“i listen to music that doesn’t make my brain want to shut down,” hyunjin replies with a smirk, taking a sip from his americano. “but hey, if you need classical music to study, you do you.”

you laugh at their back-and-forth, shaking your head at their silly rivalry. the sound of their bickering is strangely comforting, distracting you from the pressure building up inside your mind. you feel a little lighter, even if it’s just for a moment.

after a while, you excuse yourself and head to the bathroom inside the café, needing a quick break from the endless cycle of notes and coffee. the place is busy, but the hum of quiet conversations and the scent of freshly brewed coffee make it feel comforting.

you take your time, refreshing yourself and letting your thoughts wander for a few moments. when you finally finish and head back out, you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, still lost in your thoughts.

and then—bam.

you collide with someone, the force making you stumble slightly. your reflexes kick in, and you immediately start bowing in apology, your words rushing out in a flurry of embarrassment.

“i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean—”

but before you can finish, you hear a familiar voice, soft and warm, with that unmistakable australian accent.

“y/n?”

you freeze, and the world seems to stop for a moment. you slowly lift your head, and there, standing in front of you, is none other than jake. in the flesh.

for a split second, all your words get caught in your throat. your heart races, and your brain scrambles to process the unexpected reunion. this can’t be real. is this a dream?

jake’s brows furrow slightly as he looks at you with concern, his voice softening. “are you okay?” he asks, stepping a little closer to you, clearly worried about your sudden silence.

you blink, feeling your heart thumping louder in your chest as you try to find your words, but they’re nowhere to be found. you stand there, staring at him, completely at a loss for what to say.

he leans in slightly, just enough to make sure you’re okay, his face showing that familiar concern. “y/n?” he gently says your name, and your body snaps back to reality.

“i—uh… sorry, i just—didn’t expect to see you.” you feel the heat rush to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing your face. "i thought… i thought i was imagining things."

jake chuckles softly, his expression softening with a smile that makes your heart flutter. “i didn’t expect to run into you here either.” his tone is light, playful, but there’s something in his eyes—something that makes the air feel a little thicker.

you both stand there for a moment, awkward silence hanging between you. the familiarity of this moment feels surreal, but there’s no denying the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of him.

“so, uh,” you start, finally finding your voice, “what are you doing here? i didn’t expect to run into you… again.”

jake’s lips curl into that familiar, soft smile. he shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a glint in his eyes, something unspoken. “guess it’s just fate.” he says, his tone playful but there’s a layer of sincerity underneath it, one you can’t quite ignore.

you chuckle lightly, but the tension between you both is palpable now, thickening the air around you. there’s an undeniable pull between you, something that neither of you have fully acknowledged, but it’s there, lingering in the space between your words. you feel the heat of his gaze, and the sudden awareness of how close you both are makes your heart beat just a little faster.

“so… how’ve you been?” you ask, needing to break the moment but also curious, wanting to know everything about him since that last time you saw him.

jake rubs the back of his neck with a small, shy smile, a gesture you remember well. “i’ve been good… just been busy, you know. but i’ve been thinking about our time in paris a lot.” his voice is casual, but his eyes hold something deeper, a hint of vulnerability that you weren’t expecting.

you nod, understanding exactly what he means. you’ve been thinking about paris too. every memory feels like a treasure, something you’ve carefully tucked away, not wanting to forget any part of it. you wish you had more time to ask him about the things he’s been up to, to know if he’s felt the same pull that you have, the connection that neither of you can explain.

you glance down at your hand absentmindedly, and that’s when you see it—the ring he gave you in the park, so simple yet so meaningful. the silver band glints in the soft café lighting, and your heart does a little flip.

jake notices too, his gaze dropping to your hand. his smile softens, almost imperceptibly, but you notice it. there’s a quiet understanding between you two that you don’t need to speak aloud.

“i see you’re still wearing it,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost tender.

you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, everything else fades away. you feel like you’re back in paris, standing in that park, with everything still ahead of you, full of hope and possibility.

“i didn’t want to take it off,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

jake doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes locked on yours. then, without warning, he reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing lightly over your hand, and he gently presses a kiss to your right hand, right where the ring rests. the simple gesture feels like it speaks volumes, and you can’t help but feel a surge of warmth spread through you.

“i’m glad,” he says softly, his voice just above a murmur. “i’m glad you kept it.”

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the world feels like it’s holding its breath. the space between you feels charged, but neither of you is in a rush to break the silence. it’s as if this moment, this small, quiet exchange, is enough.

you blink, still a little stunned by the gesture, your heart racing, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you can’t help but feel the warmth in your chest, the way his simple action makes you feel seen, valued, even though you never really said all the things you wanted to say.

when you finally speak, your voice is soft but steady. “i didn’t think i’d see you again.”

jake takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “i didn’t either, but i’m glad i did.”

enha perm taglist. @dazzlingjaeyun @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone

©levandright

[sanakimohara]

I'm hoping it's not just me that gets honey by taking nudes (semi even). Literally with each piece of clothing gone, I become horny(er). So I was thinking about hyunjin seeing reader taking nudes 🤭

[ NXDE ] H. H.

pairing/s: hyunjin x fem! reader

summary: having a new, rich, and entitled step brother has its ups and downs…

playlist:

warnings: smut + mdni + nsfw + blackmail / degradation…? + mastrubatuon + degradation + pervhyunjin + cumeating / oral

type: headcannnon \ semi specific plot

authors note: eons later I finally get to this…please forgive me…

[ not proofread ]

Hyunjin walks in on you by accident. Swallowing a loud groan, he watches you from your bedroom doorway. Your back is towards him, laptop open, webcam running, and your phone propped up in your hands as you lay on your side and snap an overhead picture of yourself with the sluttiest smile he’s ever seen.

Hyunjin dares to shift his gaze away from your face, eyes falling half-closed, seeing your pink sundress tossed at the end of your bed, sheer tights lying on top of the discarded clothing, and your bralette soon joining the pile. He digs his teeth into his tongue, seeing the light fabric leave your skin, the curve of your breasts visible from the back as you sit up on your knees and pose for another photo.

Hyunjin isn’t above watching you in silence, awed and too painfully aware of his growing erection. He stays for the show you put on -performing for the cameras to please no one else but yourself. That’s what he’s convinced himself, hoping you don’t notice him observing, praying you don’t hear the whisper of a groan he lets out as you slowly widen the space between your knees while circling your hips to settle down.

Hyunjin can’t take his eyes off you, gaze flickering between the cameras you provocatively pose for and your body. You take all the time in the world to snap and film yourself, mirroring positions he’d only dreamt of putting you in himself, able to mimic doe and siren eyes on a subconscious cue, and the point of it all driving him insane as he stands in your bedroom doorway.

Who could you be taking these photos for?

Why couldn’t he convince himself to leave, to slam the door shut and forget he ever saw you doing something so private and depraved?

What could he possibly do to stifle the near painful heat in his abdomen, the constant pulsing of his cock through his black sweat, or the twitch of his fingers as he forced his body to remain stone still and out of your sight?

There are too many questions and not enough answers.

Hyunjin can’t help the chill crawling up his spine when you finally notice him watching you strip and photograph every inch of skin he dreamt of touching with his own hands. Your eyes cut through him via your laptop lens, a sweet smile slowly spreading across your face and a mocking rise of your hips as you shift to look at him directly over your shoulder. His chest is weighted with tangible shame.

He shouldn’t be doing this, watching his new little step-sister taking vulgar pictures of herself for god knows what reason and fantasizing that her motives for doing so had something to do with him and no one else.

He shouldn’t have enjoyed the evident smirk tugging at your peach-plump lips, the haze in your eyes as you beckoned him towards you with a single finger, or the tilt of your head when he shook his head to refuse.

He stares at your bare breasts, full and looking soft to the touch, among other details he took in about you at the moment. His voice skated on the edge of a whisper, trembling with illicit desire, “I…I should go..”

You sat up straight, a pout on your lips as you shifted to sit, your knees pulled up just slightly from the bed, and your arms helping to balance your weight in the new, relaxed position. “Why? I liked having a little audience…even if it was my pervert of a stepbrother..”

It’s no insult; your light tone and quiet giggle clarify the possible misconception, but they still manage to irritate him.

“I’m not a pervert…” he mutters back immediately, glaring straight at you but failing to uphold his protest as that very same glare lowered to the space between your partially opened legs.

Hyunjin exhales heavily through his nose, entranced by your barely covered cunt peeking back at him. Your slit is made evident by the dewy patch of arousal seeping through your lace underwear, soft folds nearly swallowing the thin fabric. He can’t see it, but your walls throb the longer he stares where he shouldn’t, a boldness snaking its way into your train of thought, seeing his body visibly waver against the doorframe he stood in.

Hyunjin is in a dazed trance as you begin to touch yourself, lazily sliding a hand to caress your inner thighs and gliding that very same hand over the slick expanse of your folds while a shiver racks your body. His tongue darts past his lips, strands of dark hair falling over his sultry stare, the heat pulsating in his chest pouring into his cock as your middle finger gently rubs past the puffy and wet slit holding his interest.

A smirk travels onto your face; your voice is sweet and low as breathy moans float between your words. “Mhmm…but look at you…Hyunie...”

“…watching me touch myself…”

Your finger dips past the fabric of your panties, immediately covered in your sticky arousal and the sound of the single digit echoing softly through his ears. He swallows hard, eyes sliding shut to snap open a moment later as you whimper from the loss of eye contact. “Look at me…please..” you feign desperation, aware of your stepbrother's struggle to sustain morality or indulge in what he can’t have.

You, his oh-so-spoiled little stepsister, got away with everything.

Who haunted his fantasies like a slippery ghost for the hell of doing so.

Hyunjin holds his resolve for a moment longer, weighing all his motives, stare flickering between the slow and steady pump of your fingers diving in and out of your creamy walls. Leaving now would be so easy; his absence could wipe the little triumphant smirk off your pretty face and give him something to hold onto your head.

But what’s the fun in that?

Hyunjin takes his chances, pushing off the doorframe with a huff and reaching a hand behind to slam your bedroom door shut and lock it for good measure. You don’t stop what you’re doing; your body is racked with delicious tingles of anticipation as your index and ring fingers join the assault of your cunt. Your lips slowly fall open from the mountain in your lower stomach, the tight feeling accelerated by his steady gaze and nearing body heat. He’s given up denying your backhanded compliments, cursing under his breath in awe as your doe-eyed gaze falters into an utterly desperate haze and your fingers dive into your walls at a faster pace.

“N-need your help…” you whisper, thighs trembling slightly as your fingers barely graze against the spot you need the most friction. It’s not enough; you could never make it enough, especially knowing he could do much better at the task.

Hyunjin let his body move independently, sinking to the floor on his knees without a second thought. His large hands smoothed up your bare and warm legs to grip the back of your knees. You fidgeted under his touch, having thought about several occasions, but you were startled to feel the slight roughness in his skin.

Your timid reaction induced no pause from him, his hold tightening just enough to drag your body close to him with one tug, and you obediently complied with a soft whine flying past your lips. “You’re … so…disgusting…”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, not sparing your face a glance as he slaps your hand away from your soaking cunt, irritated by how slowly you’re touching yourself. “Shut up…take my help or not…I don’t care…” He forces an edge to the response, not meaning a word of it but hyper-focused on the mess you’ve already made.

One piece of fabric left on your body, drenched by cum, and obnoxiously useless in his eyes.

You open your mouth to mock him again, face flushed by his last retort, but your pride is too enthralled for you to accept defeat and his intense stare on your cunt not helping your wavering confidence in the situation. “Mak-“

Hyunjin is quicker than you, head diving straight between your thighs before a completely notable phrase leaps off your tongue while he licks a thick stripe from sipping entrance up to your relatively neglected clit. “Fuck!..” you help in shock and delight as he laps at your cunt with little regard for anything else, hands trailing down to scratch at your inner thighs and holding them open as his head rested on the right one. Your eyes lower, watering with pleasant tears watching him eagerly delve his tongue along your slit and past your drizzling entrance.

A question of his integrity floats in the back of your head, fizzling out on your tongue as a trembling gasp fills your chest. “H-Hyunjin..?”

“Hmm…?” He groans, immersed in the taste of you, lips placing tender to your clit when his tongue isn’t swirling on or around it. You bite your lip, swallowing a moan as your parents unlock the front door, which carries you up two flights of stairs and into your oddly quiet room.

Hyunjin hears them too but refuses to acknowledge their hovering presence as he presses his head further between your trembling thighs, the fluff of his hair tickling your heated and sensitive skin, and the force of his shift in position knocking you onto your back. There’s no longer a point in showing hesitation; he’s come to terms with that and entirely abandoned the facade of maintaining dignity, hearing your shy moans feel the air with every slip of his tongue into your fluttering hole.

You can’t stand looking at him directly anymore, blushing rose red as he purposely spits into your entrance, lapping up the mixture of your arousal and his drool with an excited and guttural groan as your hands fly to weave through his dark tresses.

“F…mhmm f-feels so…” The praise twists in your chest, verging on coming out, but you are strangled by the constant pressure of orgasm as he shoves your legs further up and out.

Hyunjin smirks as you choke on a silent scream from the new position he’s put you in, nearly folded in half, and left no choice but to let him have his fill of your creamy pussy with your discarded clothes slipping off the bed's edge. One glance up at you makes his cock throb almost painfully, sweats constricting the tense twitching seeing your pleasured expressions and writhing body reflected in the laptop's webcams and your up-standing phone camera.

He could get used to catching you in the act.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d be a sweet little stepsister for once and take more than a few pictures and videos for him and only him.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?…

authors note: yall aren’t going to believe this… but I went fucking camping and I hated it tbh…

other links: n/a

[ bonus content + ]

Credits to Creator 🖤 Also, what do you guys think of the members' solo stages so far? Which ones are your favorites?

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 5 - You Should Always Check Your Sources

CW: Angst, language, mentions of torture

Previous parts - masterlist - next

When you enter the room with John, Kate stands up looking over at you. She picks her laptop up like she’s packing to leave.

“Stay.” You say. You don’t want to be alone in a room with John. She looks at John waiting for his nod of approval before sitting back down. He walks over to a drawer pulling a file out. He hands it to you. You open it, the first pages are just generic report stuff. You flick through it until you come across some pictures.

Pictures, well CCTV screenshots of you. In London, you have no idea where they were taken or when but it looks like you. The same hair, even the same coat you wear. You’re meeting up with someone for coffee from the looks of it. You don’t recognise the other person though. 

“What's this?” You ask confused. The next page shows the transcript of a call between you and someone else. 

“A phone call between you and a man called; Andrei Nolan. He’s Makarovs right hand man.” John says you look up at him frowning. 

“I’m assuming he’s the man in the photos too?” You ask flicking back to them. You look up at John who nods. You don’t even recognise the guy, he could have been someone you just hooked up with or bumped into. You try to think back but the date on the CCTV screenshot is marked out. 

You hand the folder back to John. 

“I don’t even recognise the guy.” You say. You cross your arms, you don’t expect him to believe you.  

“We caught him in Russia about a week ago. He was more than happy to talk about your meetings.” John says.

“Meetings?” You question raising an eyebrow. You don’t like this, this is feeling all too familiar to the last few days. You’re one step away from having a rag pressed on your face again. 

“We assumed you were selling secrets to him.” Jon says. You scoff, looking over at Kate who tips her head slightly watching you both. 

“What changed your mind?” 

“Our mole in Konni gave us intel that exonerated you.” Kate says.

“That’s why it took so long, we had to assume the worst until we could prove any different.” He sighs, you look at him. “We had to do our job. If we didn’t we could have been accused of harboring a traitor, giving you special exemptions.” 

You laugh, you can't believe what he's saying. You can feel tears welling back up in your eyes. You turn away. You won’t let him see you cry. You hear him take a step towards you, you freeze. He sighs almost like he’s trying to find the right words to say. 

“I really am sorry. I never thought it would come to this but our hands were tied we-” 

“You had a choice.” You snap, turning back to look at him. “You always have a choice. You told me that once.” 

“I-” 

“No! You had a choice and you chose this. You could have let me rot in a cell for a few days. Or suspended me, hell I would have taken a flight back to the UK as a traitor. Instead you-” The words catch in your throat tears escape your eyes. You step back away from him, swallowing hard. 

“I want a transfer.” You say finally trying to keep your voice level. You wait for his response, your eyes digging into him. He straightens up, now he looks like he’s about to cry. Good, you hope they feel horrible for what they did. 

“Why don’t you think about it for a few days. You don’t have anywhere to be, you can take some time to rest.” Kate says. You look over at her.

“Rest?” You scoff, looking back at John. “I can’t sleep without being back in that room over and over  again. I can’t wash my hands or take a shower without having flashbacks. Everytime I see you I panic, thinking something new will happen, more ‘evidence’ against me and I’ll be back in that room again.” 

John doesn’t say anything, his eyes are relaxed, his lips pressed together. You hope the guilt is eating him alive. You can see the dark circles under his eyes, the way he clenches his fists when you talk to him. 

“I want a transfer.” You say again holding your ground. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, just nods his head slightly. You let out a shaky breath. You nod back at him and turn to leave, you thought it would feel like a weight has been lifted but instead you feel worse. 

You’re turning your back on the people you love, the people you spent the last 2 years with. The people you thought you would spend the rest of your life with. It hurts. Maybe more then the torture at least the physical part. The betrayal, the emotional toll of having the people you love hurt you so much.  

“Johnny knows by the way.” You say as you open the door and you leave without looking back.

—--------------

“You need to calm down Johnny.” Simon says as Johnny’s trying to get out of bed. 

“He’s right Soap, you’re no good to anyone like this, you've just had major surgery.” Kyle says trying to help Simon get control of the situation. 

“Fuck you.” Johnny snaps, pulling his arm out of Simon's grip and swinging his legs out the bed. 

“What’s going on?” John asks as he enters the room taking in the scene. 

“You tortured her. For 4 days you made her suffer, what were you thinking?” Johnny asks John in almost disbelief. “The snakes really? Low even for you.” 

“Does it matter?” John asks, coming into the room sighing. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Johnny asks scoffing and looking between Simon and John. 

“Of course it fuckin’ matters. She’s our girl cap. Or did you forget that?” There's spite in Johnny’s voice as he digs his eyes into John. 

“Get back into bed.” John says walking up to the bed.

“Fuck no. I want to see her.” Kyle pushes Johnny back, keeping him in the bed. 

“You know she’ll just drag you back here.” Kyle says. Johnny grunts, giving up pushing against him, he’s too weak anyway. He sighs, shaking his head. 

“You really thought it was her?” He asks. 

“The intel we had was solid.” John says. Kyle scoffs this time, Johnny looks up at him raising an eyebrow. 

“Does it justify 4 days of torture though?” Kyle says, there’s spite in his voice too. John sighs, he can regret it all he wants but it happened and that's on him and Simon. 

“Regardless, we had to act on it.” Simon says coming round to the end of the bed. 

“We should have done it differently.” John says.

“You think?” Johnny snaps looking over at him. Johnny shakes his head again. He swings his legs back into the bed, Kyle lets out a breath of release. 

“I can’t believe it. You fucking broke her. The person we’re supposed to love. 4 days, 4 fucking days.” Johnny pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s silence in the room, tension thick in the air. 

“What are we going to do?” Johnny asks no one in particular. 

“Nothing.” John says, everyones eyes turn to him. “She’s asked for a transfer.” 

—--------------

You walk into Johnny’s room around midnight. You couldn’t sleep again. You’re sick of sleeping. The pills don’t help, they just make you feel trapped in your dreams. You try to silently enter and pull a chair up to his bed but he stirs awake. 

“Hey lass,” he says, turning in the bed to face you. He looks sad, his face puffy. He’s been crying. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” You whisper. 

“Come up.” He says shuffling in the bed and pulling the covers out the way. 

“I shouldn’t-” 

“You should.” He says cutting you off. You smile and reach town to take your boots off. He moves to get more comfortable as you climb into bed next to him. He immediately wraps his arms around you pulling the thin hospital blankets over you. 

You lay there for a few seconds, breathing him in. He smells of hospital, but there’s a hint of Johnny there, the lingering smell of gunpowder and whatever musky cologne he uses. It makes you smile as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Trouble sleeping?” He asks, kissing the top of your head. You hum. 

“Me too.” 

You’re comfortable laying up against him. Suddenly you feel bad for leaving, you don’t know how you’re going to tell Kyle and Johnny. You need to go though, it's better for everyone. You can’t work with them again, not after what they did. 

Johnny and Kyle will understand. You’re sure they will. 

“I’m sorry you got shot.” You say, it feels like something you have to say. 

“Shh, you saved my life love. I wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for you.” He says kissing your head again. His hands are running over you like it’s the first time he’s touching you. You know that’s a lie, you have to convince yourself they can save themselves. They would be lost without each other, they wouldn’t be lost without you. 

You’re going to miss him. You close your eyes, breathing him in relaxing your arm over his stomach while he strokes you. 

You’ll see them again, keep in contact with Kyle and Johnny at least. You just can’t work with them anymore. 

“I love you Johnny.” You say, it hurts. For the first time ever it hurts to say it. 

“I know love. I love you too.” You smile letting him hug you tighter. You try to stay away but your eyes are heavy, the sounds of the machines lulling you to sleep. 

You’ll tell them tomorrow you promise yourself.

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