#Or any of them from previous school years

[jarofstyles]

The Favor 12

It’s been 800 years and I’m sorry 😭 now that we reached this point inspo has come and gone so fast. But I got this part done and the next one on Patreon now! I would love to hear thoughts and suggestions, I’ve already implemented some of what you guys have asked for in my planned parts 🩷 enjoy! And happy holidays

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WC- 6.6k

Warnings- mentions of a Dom/sub dynamic, anxiety mention, misogyny, we hate Danny club tee shirts being passed around, tooth rotting fluff, mentions of relationship trauma

Danny hadn’t always been a bad boyfriend. 

At first he had been kind and sweet. With him being a tad bit more outgoing than Y/N, he had brought her into his friend group and integrated her as one of them. He had brought her flowers for their 6 month anniversary, they went on dates on the weekends twice a month, and it was nice. Solid, steady. 

Until he got a little too comfortable. 

Y/N could see it now that she had removed her heart from the equation. Danny was lazy, and it had shown more and more as the year mark hit, and then two years, and she had to remind him of Valentine’s Day, make the birthday plans, schedule the dates, or go along with the plans he’d made with his friends. He would get her gifts on those occasions, yes, but the most stereotypical things. It had lacked thought. Flowers and chocolates on Valentine’s Day were nice! She didn’t want to come across as ungrateful ever- but when he’d gotten her dark chocolate when he should have known she really disliked it, it made it a little less sweet- pun intended. 

If someone were to ask Y/N why she stayed so long,  she wouldn’t have one singular answer. Comfort? Familiarity? Routine? Perhaps lack of self esteem? She wasn’t sure. Being raised to think you had a specific way of doing things, of dating, engagement, then marriage, she hadn’t really been given many other examples. Growing up, her parents had been high school sweethearts, as had both of their parents. There was no breaking up, it was a one and done type of deal. 

She wasn’t sure if that was set in stone, though. It was an unspoken rule, something left unsaid like a thinly veiled threat in the night air. They spoke of the great love story of finding your one and only and it made her feel like she had to stick to that too. She’d never asked her mother about it, because she never really entertained the idea of having any other partner. 

It was easy with Danny in the way that she knew what to expect. She knew his habits, she knew his work, his schedule. She knew his friends, his plans for life, there were no surprises. Nothing that would jump back out and bite her, catch her off guard as he slowly leaned into being less attentive.&

Maybe that’s why even when she started having doubts she had stuck them to the back of her mind. 

There was no denying that Harry had been a very, very big part in all of it. The funny part of it was, she wasn’t sure that the sex bit was what truly got her to reconsider even if it had started it all. As incredible, euphoric as she felt- it was the way she felt afterwards. Before, even. When they sat in his bed and he stroked her cheek, feeding her cubes of cantaloupe or strawberries sliced in half, or when he’d picked up a carton of her yogurt and granola after mentioning what she usually had for breakfast at home. 

It was how gentle he handled her not only physically, but emotionally. He checked in, he cared, he asked her multiple times what she liked and what she didn’t. If it was okay to touch her certain ways, if he could kiss her. Just little things that seemed so minuscule in size if you looked at it from the outside but felt so big to her that it tore at her heart. 

He’d gotten her that damn water bottle, he’d gotten used to washing her hair when they shared showered, he used that tender tone of voice that had her bones feeling flexible as she melded into him each and every time. 

And another thing she had found to like about Harry, was the fact that he was just… dominant in most regards.

It wasn’t overly so. He wasn’t this complete alpha, macho man, fists banging on the chest sort of guy. He didn’t walk into the room and demand to be the biggest and baddest in the room. It was understated, quiet. If you looked at him you could just… see. Feel it. You could see he held it together well, that he liked control in the way he kept things organized and held eye contact regardless of who it was. He very rarely shied away from a situation. In fact, Y/N felt very special for being one of the only people she had seen make him blush or get flustered. 

It was second nature to him to just do. To pick up where she left off. So it did make her wonder what else she could do for him. How she could help him relieve stress. Yes, there was the sexual aspect that she was more than willing to hand over whenever he wanted (no exaggeration- any time, any place) but she wanted to be the person he allowed himself to loosen up with. 

She’d seen glimpses. Silliness and joking, that sort of tenderness that he didn’t seem to give to anyone else, but she wanted to make his life easier. Researching the dynamics between dominants and submissives, she had some questions- but the first thing she needed to do was cut off the dead weight- the only thing holding them back. 

—-

Meeting at the park was a good idea. She could tell by his face that he had a clue what was going to happen and as much as she tried not to, she did feel a tiny sliver of guilt. 

Y/N didn’t necessarily cheat, no. She’d had full permission, ecstatic permission, actually. He’d handed her over to Harry. Being realistic she knew he didn’t realize it would be an option that he wouldn’t get her back. Danny was headstrong in a way she found a lot of men were. He didn’t consider the possibility that she actually did know what she wanted and once she had a taste, she would want that for herself all the time.

“You’re leaving me for him.”

“Not necessarily.” She sighed, crossing her arms around her body. “It isn’t just about him. It’s about the fact that we aren’t compatible anymore, and we haven’t been in a long time.”

Danny scoffed, tilting his head towards the sky. “So, what? I’m nice? I let you go and see and play around to explore that shit and now you’ve gotten addicted to that sort of stuff? We can get you to therapy, because it isn’t healthy. But obviously it was a mistake to hand you off to him-“

“Yes. If you loved me, if you truly wanted me, Daniel- you’d never, ever want someone else to touch me.” She remembered how Harry had said he didn’t want to share her. Look, sure. But never touch. “You said the shit I’m into is weird, you shame me, then pawn me off to your friend which… it’s dangerous. The both of us are lucky Harry is genuinely an amazing guy-“ she shot him a look as he let out a noise but continued anyways. “Harry is amazing and kept me safe. He taught me the safe ways of doing things. And I liked it. I’m not going to lie to you, I really liked all of it and I know you aren’t into it.” For once, her face softened.

“And you don’t have to be. I don’t judge you for not wanting to do it. I never have. I was upset by your reactions and how you made me feel bad, but I would never ask you to do something you truly aren’t comfortable with. But if this is something I want, something I find myself needing to be fulfilled, I’m not going to try to change you or myself to try and salvage a relationship that was barely working anyways.”

“Barely working?” Danny looked genuinely confused. “The fuck are you talking about.” Again, her anger bubbled under the surface, but the exhaustion of the whole thing kept her from exploding. 

“Danny, you barely gave me attention. When you apologized the first time and we went out to the bar, you brushed me off the whole time. You treated me like an accessory. There was no passion to our relationship.” Y/N wasn’t sure how he didn’t see that. “We had the same conversations every day, barely had any excitement. I don’t think you loved me- I think I was convenient. And I don’t hold that against you either, but I think I was convenient to you.”

“That’s just how relationships are! They even out and get a little boring.” He defended, nostrils flaring as he was obviously offended with her observation. She had a feeling he would get that way. It was just another reason why they needed to end things. 

“To a degree. After years of marriage and things settle down, your partner is supposed to become your best friend. And we barely speak to each other if it isn’t about plans, or something you want to. If I feel like talking about something I can physically see you tune me out. This was happening far before you even handed me off to Harry.”

“And he’s going to give you that?” He sneered, looking at her like she was some sort of idiot. It had been very clear since the beginning that Danny really did put people into boxes, and Harry was in the sexual deviant one. He had no ability to see the depth in people and that had always been something that bothered her about him, but seeing it now towards someone she was falling for made her angry. 

“I don’t know.” She snapped. “But regardless if it is him or not, you need to stop that. You just… you learn something about someone and you completely disregard them as people. You knew he was into some different stuff and all of a sudden he’s a whore, some kind of sexual deviant that can’t commit. He’s had partners, long term. He’s caring. He’s kind. He listens to what I have to say. It isn’t just sex every time I go over to his place, you understand that right?” 

He didn’t, obviously, but the way his brows pulled together and he looked at her like he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Did you expect him to string me up and hit me with a paddle a few times and me to run back to you?” She was positive that was the thought process as it was as soon as she saw the face he made. “We bond. We make breakfast or go out for it, we watch shows, we take his dog on a walk- the dynamic of this whole thing goes far past just sex, Danny. It’s trust. I know you did minimal research into what this actually is, but I’m telling you that we weren’t just going at it like bunnies. I’m not hypnotized by his dick. He’s so nice to me, and he listens, and he….” Y/N could feel herself getting emotional, so she had to reign it in. He didn’t need this sort of response from her. 

“Listen. I’m sorry. I know we had plans, but they’re not for me anymore. I have no idea if Harry wants to actually date me or not. I have no clue where my life is going, but I just don’t see us being together anymore.”

——

It was a bit anticlimactic. Danny couldn’t really argue with her, (even if he did try a few times). Not when it was so abundantly clear her mind was made up. It was over. Regardless of what he thought about Harry or her sexual preferences or anything she liked, it was her opinion that mattered. She’d been coasting for so long that she had forgotten how it felt to actually be behind the wheel. As terrifying as it was to navigate- it felt good. 

“A mixed box, please.” Y/N politely asked the worker at the donut shop, knowing Harry was a bit of a fiend for a donut with his coffee. “An extra chocolate though, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! Half or whole dozen?” 

“Whole, please.” 

She checked her phone to see a text waiting from him, her mood lightening immediately as her eyes traced over the screen. 

H: You alright, sweetheart? Please text me when you’re on your way here x. 

H: p.s. I miss you a little. 

Her heart felt like it grew too big for her chest as she took a shaky inhale, thumbing over the keyboard to reply to the man. It had been ages since she had gotten giddy over a man texting her, Harry being the first one since she’d left school honestly. It wasn’t that she wanted to constantly compare her past relationship with him, but it was hard not to when everything felt so much better.

Y/N: hiiii ❤️ I’m good. I made a stop but as soon as I’m done here I’ll be on my way. Maybe 20? 

Y/N: p.s. I miss you a little bit too 

Tucking her phone back in her pocket, she thanked the girl and checked out at the register, tapping her card before taking the box and walking back out to her car. 

She was a single woman, now. Sort of? That was sort of a mystery. She was Harry’s. The fact was clear both in her heart and the bruises sucked over the swell of her breast, also coincidentally over her heart. The question laid in his hands, if they were an actual item or not. He’d proclaimed she was his what seemed to be a million times but how far did that go? 

It wasn’t like she was dumb- she knew there were feelings in both ends. Men didn’t act like that unless they were actually wanting you. She knew she wasn’t completely naive for feeling somewhat confident that Harry would want her, but it was the question of in what way. As a submissive? As a girlfriend? That question would be asked tonight, but right now she really just needed a hug. 

There was no need to knock anymore as she scales the porch steps and approached the door, instead punching in the code to his security system and pushing the door open. The clicking of nails alerted her to Buttons before she even saw the pup, eagerly running towards her with a happy yip. 

“Hello, my darling.” She cooed, hanging her purse up on the hook and toed her shoes off. “These are not for you, M’sorry. We can get you a treat though. Where’s daddy, hm?” 

“Kitchen!” He called through the house, making her smile widen. She could smell coffee, the dark roast permeating the air as she padded towards the room. It was one of the best times of day to be in the room, sunlight pouring through the wide windows. Even better to frame him as he leaned against the island, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. 

He was always beautiful, but seeing him in this light- literally and metaphorically- had her tummy swirling. His hair fluffy from the shower this morning and pushed off his head, the facial hair he had let grow because she said she liked it, the tee shirt tucked into linen pants, all of it was enticing. It felt more intense now that there was no real barrier holding her back from allowing her to think those sorts of things about him. 

“Excuse me, miss? What’s in that box?” His voice tilted as his smile grew, looking at the familiar pink box. 

“You know what’s in the box.” She hummed, placing it down next to him. “It’s where I stopped. I’m sorry to say I broke into them and ate a chocolate one on the drive here, but there’s 11 others in there for you to choose from.” 

“How will I ever forgive you.” His eyes rolled as he uncrossed his arms and pulled her into them, seeming to know what she needed before she could even utter a word about it. He knew what she went to do and while it was exciting, he knew she had been slightly anxious about the reaction. “You alright, darling? Seriously?” 

Y/N wasn’t sure if it was being in the safety of his arms and realizing that he was the only one she felt this safe with, if it was the slight exhaustion from not being able to sleep well, or the emotion of letting go of something that had once felt like her life, but she felt the wall hit her. Nodding into his chest, she stayed buried there as the tears bubbled over her lashline. 

“Oh, Angel. M’sorry. That’s a dumb question.”’he sighed, curling his hand around the back of her head and gently running his fingers through her hair. “I know. S’been a lot, the last few weeks. But you’re safe here, yeah? We don’t have to talk about it, or we can. It’s up to you.”

She knew he did want to. He wouldn’t press her because he was a good man and he was considerate of her feelings, but he wanted to know what happened and considering the entirety of this, she wanted to. It just… needed to be in a minute. Arms wrapped around his form as she took in unsteady breaths, trying to calm herself down. It was easier said than done when he felt like the lifeline now, but she didn’t want to cry over it. 

“We can.” She gave a watery laugh as she turned her cheek to rest on him, letting herself breathe properly instead of keeping herself shoved against his body. “I’m not upset because we broke up. I-I don’t really care about that, actually. I’m glad. He didn’t take it well but he also didn’t throw a tantrum. It just upset me because I was seeing him for one of the first times as who he was instead of m-making excuses and I felt a little dumb for staying for so long.” It was embarrassing.

Harry knew she wasn’t done so he didn’t interrupt, continuing the soothing strokes as she stayed leaning against him. “He puts people in boxes. Like he… he thought you were one dimensional and so was I. Thought that I didn’t actually know what I w-wanted, and that we were just fucking this whole time. Couldn’t believe that we were actually bonding and that you could possibly like me, or vice versa, outside a bedroom.” Her scoff made him chuckle just a bit, leaning his head down to kiss the top of hers, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. 

“And it really hit me how he couldn’t fathom that you have feelings that go past sexual deviancy or that I actually know what I want and I wasn’t just addicted to sex or something. Did you know he used to get me chocolates for Valentine’s Day but he’d get dark, and I hate dark chocolate.” She sniffled. “Or he’d make me plan stuff because I was ‘better’ at it. I just felt in charge of everything except plans with his friends, unless it had to do with getting a gift for a wedding or baby shower or birthday. Then I could handle it because… I don’t know. I was leading the whole thing and I wasn’t getting anything in return and I’m just now realizing how shitty I felt the whole time. I think I just coasted the whole time b-because my family did the whole high school or college sweetheart things and I felt like I needed to, too.”

It made a lot of sense to him, now, why she felt she needed this. The dynamic. Naturally submissive, he knew, but being forced to take the role that she didn’t want for the sake of a relationship she was trying to keep afloat merely because she felt a responsibility? His poor fucking girl. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I know it isn’t exactly the sort of thing you want to hear and it won’t make it better, but I’m sorry. It hurt you, it made you feel under appreciated and taken for granted. You didn’t deserve any of that.” 

It wouldn’t make a difference now but he wished he had met her first. Met her before Danny had gotten to her and been able to snatch her up, give her the sort of attention she properly needed, take care of her the way she had always been craving. For someone who didn’t naturally have that sort of instinct he had to imagine it was exhausting. Harry took pride in being the planner, the provider. He liked being in charge and knowing what was happening, making things easy and smooth. But for Y/N who already didn’t want to be doing it, he knew it had to have felt like she was trapped. 

“M’never going to make you do those things.” He murmured. “Not if you don’t want to. I don’t… it isn’t something that I’d ever want you to do if you didn’t want to. There is no right or wrong way to have a relationship, but the burden shouldn’t fall on only one person if they don’t want it to.” He smeared his lips in a ring of kisses around her hairline. “I know you don’t need me t’tell you that how you were treated wasn’t right, but I hope you know that you can tell me if you ever feel that way. If you… if you don’t want to do something, you don’t have to.” There was a pause. “When we’re not playing.” 

“I was gonna hold you to that.” She laughed against him, pulling her head back to look at him. “So, um.. I didn’t want to assume anything, but I’m gonna now and think that you want to.. that you like me enough to keep me around?”

Harry looked at her for a few moments before shutting his eyes, dropping his head to rest on hers. “If I hadn’t made it clear before, I think M’gonna make it even clearer now.” 

Y/N didn’t have a chance to breathe before he scooped her up to sit her in the counter, their lips fused together in a kiss she hadn’t fully felt before. Something he had held back, it lingered under it all as she easily melted into him.  It felt different, like a barrier had fallen off with the way he handled her. It was still delicate, still tender, but there was no hint of hesitancy in the way he led the kisses, smoothing his thumbs over her cheeks as he cupped her face in those massive hands she loved so much. Unhurried, unrestrained but no sense of urgency. 

Like he knew now he didn’t have to rush, that he had more time to prove to her that he meant every unspoken word he poured into this. 

The slight salt of her tears reminded him to pull back, to pace himself. Oddly enough, he had no urge to have sex right now. Everything was soft. Silky. Lovelaced and sweet, hinted with the motivation to give her the relationship that she deserved. It meant he’d have to ask her what she would want, but right now he just wanted to bask in the feeling of her in his palms and the warm sun and sugary donuts in the box and the strong coffee finishing its brew across the kitchen. 

“Hi.” He smiled lightly as he pulled back, eyes hooded as he watched hers peel open to meet his own. Her lips were bare of anything but chapstick he had faint taste of- strawberry, he was positive of it- and slightly puffy from the kiss that had gone on for a bit longer than they should have been able to breathe. 

“Hi.” Her voice was a peep as the shyness took over her face, but Harry didn’t let her move from it. As much as she wanted to burrow back into his chest, he kept her chin up. The energy was palpable, giddiness rocking his belly as he tugged her lip from her teeth. No biting of lips near him, not right now. Even if it was cute. 

There was a lot to speak about in regards to them as a pairing, but he wanted to soak in this warmth for a bit before getting down to the gritty bit of it. The girl had brought him his favorite sweets, and he wanted to enjoy them with her.

“Do you want some coffee?” 

“Tea, please.” 

—

Harry hadn’t been positive Y/N would go through with it. 

That wasn’t a fault or doubt of her person, not at all. But he knew that she really didn’t like hurting people. That much had been something he’d learned very early on in knowing her. She had been mindful of Danny’s feelings the whole time, trying not to flaunt any of it in his face and not giving details unless he asked- which he hardly did. 

They’d not really gotten any sort of response about what they’d done in front of him but Harry knew he wasn’t going to say anything about it because he would be too ashamed to admit it. He wasn’t shocked, though, when he got text messages during the day while Y/N slept soundly on his lap while watching a movie as Harry worked on his phone. She never could stay awake when the movie turned on and he played with her hair. One hand had been gently massaging her scalp while the other typed on his screen when the message popped up on his screen. 

D: I don’t know what the fuck you did to her but I hope you’re happy. I trusted you with her, man. And you fucking stole her. She was mine. That shit you’re into is disgusting and you’ve brainwashed her or something, it’s fucked up. 

Harry almost laughed at the message until he remembered what Y/N had been so upset about. The fact she hadn’t been seen as a person with her own emotions and feelings during the duration of the relationship had hit her. It may have started out good but it ended badly when she realized that he didn’t think she could choose what she liked. This was a prime example of it. 

HS: I get being upset, but I didn’t steal her. She isn’t property. She’s capable of making her own decisions and you texting me something like that proves you don’t trust her judgment yet again. I’ll do my best to make her happy, I care about her more than you can fathom. 

HS: I won’t be by any group gatherings, so don’t worry about that. Bye. 

Harry muted the conversation. 

It really wasn’t something he needed to talk to about with him anymore. He wasn’t sorry, he didn’t regret anything, he didn’t think what they did was fucked up. He could go back and forth about how Danny had been the one to hand over his girlfriend and push her right into Harry’s arms but at what cost? Why would he bother? 

She was curled in his lap, head on his thighs with soft breaths puffing against his shirt. Buttons laid at his dog bed near the fireplace and he felt that happiness bubble up in his stomach again. This was what he wanted. 

The dominant and submissive dynamic was something he loved and he enjoyed, absolutely. But the base level of his desires was wanting a real relationship with this before all the rest of it fell into place. Happiness at the most base level, trust, peace. Finding the delicate balance. 

His eyes traced over her features as his mind wandered a bit. Was a full dynamic what she wanted? Was she looking for commitment right off the bat? Or did she need a little breathing room? 

That didn’t seem as likely considering how she’d come right back home to him. 

The knowledge that she didn’t have anything holding her back was something that pleased him endlessly. He didn’t have to worry about stepping on toes. While they hadn’t expressed out loud that they wanted to be in a full and committed relationship, he knew she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be. 

If he was honest with himself, he knew that an emotional affair had played a part in it. The both of them had been feeling things for each other for a bit, at least for him it had been a while. Y/N had poured her trust into him and he had taken that very seriously. He’d done his best to keep himself in check but now he really didn’t have to. 

It was astounding how fast emotions could form, how feelings could grow from a seedling planted in the pit of his belly to a full bloom that burst through his chest. She’d made a garden inside of him and he wanted her to see just how beautiful it could be, if she gave him the chance. A real one. 

Harry the dominant was one part of him but it wasn’t the whole part. He was a fully fleshed out human with faults. He was picky about keeping his house clean, he could be a bit pushy sometimes, he tended to isolate when he was upset about something. There was hints of insecurity and possessiveness in his personality, jealousy. God, he was a pathetically jealous person even if he tried to keep it under wraps. These were things she hadn’t exactly gotten to see, even if there were glimpses here and there. The underlying anxiety was there and prevalent that maybe she’d see those parts and not like him as much. 

The reminder that Y/N wasn’t that cruel circled back around and called him some, smiling as he felt her stir and scoot closer to him. Her nose nuzzled into his stomach, slow breathing evening out as she got comfortable again pressed up against him. The reminder that she also had faults that he hadn’t exactly seen yet was a comfort. He doubted that anything would truly scare him away, though. The obsession was already in place. 

“M’gonna do my best.” He whispered quietly, letting the back of his hand brush her warm cheek as she snoozed, unaware of his tender words under his breath. Unaware that it felt like he was holding the world in the palm of his hand now, and it was slightly terrifying as he tried to ensure he wouldn’t break it. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl. Promise.” 

——

Their dinner was quiet. Harry had put on jazz music that was understated beneath their talking, the food was good, but there was no denying that they both knew a conversation laid ahead that would be a defining factor. 

As much as Harry tried to be calm about it, he was slightly nervous. Y/N looked slightly anxious and he tried to keep his shoulders relaxed but it was hard to when he was unsure what part she was anxious about. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. 

“I’m over Danny.” She blurted out. The dam had splintered and she felt like she couldn’t keep it back anymore. “I think I was over him for a long time. if he was in love with me, he would have never sent me to fuck around with someone else. If I was truly in love with him, I wouldn’t have agreed. I wouldn’t have been so eager to come and see you. It has been bothering me for a bit thinking maybe I was a bad person for wanting to move on so quickly but I think I had accepted subconsciously that it had been over for so long that it made it easier for me to feel almost single when I was around you.” Taking a gulp of air, she continued. To his credit Harry didn’t interrupt, merely folded his hands on the table and looked intently at her. 

“The last thing I want you to consider yourself is a rebound, though. I’ve been torn because… while I know I like you a lot, and I do- I really do like you,” she paused to give him a nervous smile. “I wanted to make sure that you understand that I never saw you as someone to move on with when I wasn’t distracted by him in the first place. Every single time we were together I forgot about him. As cruel as it sounds… maybe the first time I had thought about how much better it was and how this was what I was missing, that I knew he’d never be capable of the things I wanted- but being with you was never about him for me.”

Y/N knew she was a flawed individual and it wasn’t a secret. It wasn’t morally right to most people and she understood that. But this had felt like a natural turn of events for her.

“You’ve been at the forefront of my mind since we first met up at the coffee shop. I always thought you were slightly intimidating and very handsome, very kind- but once I had the go ahead to think of you as more, it never stopped. It only grew.” Her eyes dropped to her mostly finished plate as she took a deeper breath. It felt like an avalanche of words were trying to come out, all the things she had held back coming out now that she felt safe enough to. 

“I thought at first it really was a favor to him, that you were doing this because you were a good friend. But I… I’d like to think I have good enough senses to know that you enjoyed it too. You paid me more attention than anyone else ever has. From the texting to check in and remembering things I said off hand, to getting me things that are so unique to me and our conversations… it blew me away.” Her fingers fiddled with the napkin before she braved his eyes again. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I… I really would like to try. With you. The um, the dominant stuff too, but… more? If that's something you’d want.” 

“It is.” There was no hesitation in his answer, knowing she was losing steam in her rant. “It’s what I’ve wanted for a while. I tried very hard to be respectful at first, you know…” he swallowed, trying to find the words. “I wanted to be respectful because of you. I didn’t want to get out of turn. And then… I started to care less about it when I saw how little he cared about your relationship himself. I didn’t take the favor on directly because he asked me.” This was a revelation, just a bit. “I took it on because I knew you, I knew the… I know how it is wanting to try something and feeling like you’ve got no options. I also know how dangerous it could be with the wrong hands on you. And I cared for you, back then more so as a friend but I cared and didn’t want you to have a bad experience. I wanted it to be safe and pleasure filled and selfishly, I was attracted to you as it was.” 

He may have fooled himself into thinking it was for Danny but he knew deep down why he had done it. 

“I think that you took me by surprise. How well we worked together from day one. It felt like… you were made for me. Y’know?”

“Yeah.” She peeped. “I felt the same.”

The small smile on his lips was a reward for her, the table being a good divider for now. If it wasn’t there he knew he would be distracted by wanting to touch her. “Good. I was taken back by it and I wanted more n’more, I got selfish and greedy for a bit. I broke a little, having you in the cafe bathroom. Doin’ that, it was selfish for me. For us. There wasn’t anything pre planned and I knew by how you reacted I wasn’t exactly alone in the want to do more but I didn’t want to make you feel guilty, so I kept it back for a bit.”

It had been so difficult not to beg for me. Ask her to come over during the week when he felt especially lonely. Even just to have her sit in his bed and leave her scent all over the sheets or hear her padding around while he worked. That was the domesticity that he wanted. “It’s been more than sex for me for a while. I know the dynamic is more than that too, but I found myself wanting you around more. Wanting to do more things with you than what we were supposed to do. When we went out the first time together, had me all sort of nervous in the good way and I realized I was getting myself into something that could be really good, or really bad.” His heart had been on the line the whole time. 

“Listen.” Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together again as he had her eyes. “I want t’be with you too. I want more. I want… the fun side where we play and go to the club, all of that. But I want more, too. The dinners and having you in my bed, without fucking. The softer things. I know that in the past you mentioned you had to control everything in your last relationship and I wanted to warn you that m’not like that- I like control in all areas of my life. It’s one of those things I’ve tried to work on a bit. Not necessarily of you in the traditional sense but… I like t’plan the dates. I like to feel needed, don’t mind bein’ the one to take care of you as long as you save that softness for me. Jus’ like you loving on me and being that sweet girl that you’ve shown me so far, and it’ll make me happy.” His hands itched to grab her. “Does that sound like something you can deal with.”

“It sounds like it’s perfect.” A shaky laugh left her as she felt slightly like she was dreaming. “I want to know more about how I can give back to you if you’re doing all the controlling but I… I really like that idea. I don’t mind you being the one to do all those things.” His version was exactly what she wanted. 

“Good.” The sigh of relief was enough to relax his shoulders. “Now c’mon over here. You’ve been far away from me for far too long.”

Y/N scrambled up and rounded the table, a shy smile lighting up her face as she sat in his lap and giggled in surprise as his mouth met hers, eager and languid as his large hand held her hip. She felt safe. Giddy. Warm. She could get used to this. 

[imfoive]

Trophy Husband - Chapter 5

Hyunjin x Reader (fem.) Genre: Arranged Marriage au!, Marriage of Convenience-ish, Romance, Angst, Frenemies-to-Lovers, NSFW (mdni) Warnings: mentions of cursing, drinking, crude language, somewhat proofread WC: 6.0k A/N: Last chapter of the year! I hope the slight insight into y/n melts away any frustrations the previous chapter left. Our bickering-couple will see you again in 2025! Feedback, Reblogs, Likes are greatly appreciated! Happy reading! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Two individuals with polar opposite lifestyles are thrown into an arranged marriage for the benefit of both their families, or so they claim. One is a frivolous playboy, living off familial wealth, while the other is an overly controlling workaholic. Navigating their marriage with a business-like approach, their relationship is marked by a whirlwind of bickering, banter, and societal pressures. Amid misunderstandings, they uncover layers of unexpected qualities, eventually discovering a sweet love neither saw coming.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

CHAPTER 5 ───────────────────

As a child, Y/N Yeom had always been compared to a bird, lost in her own world. 

Soaring freely, high above, doing as she pleased as her parents’ only child. One of the perks of having no competition with a sibling. 

She chased her imagination, colorful dreams unfurling in her mind.

It was something her parents bragged about. How independent she was. How ambitious she was. How proud she would make them.

It was something her parents would come to regret as she entered her teenage years. The extracurricular activities they had piled onto her as a child, aimed at making her well-rounded and talented in many fields, from dancing to piano to art, would soon return to haunt them. 

Especially when the Yeom heiress declared she wanted to be an artist.

Her mother had laughed at it. 

A sound that still echoed in Y/N’s mind. It had been a laugh muffled by her fingers, her face a alight with amusement as she stared back at her young daughter, clearly finding the idea more humorous than anything else.

“Don’t say such silly things Y/N”

Words that still rang in her memories.

Her carefree world began to shatter.

Then came the hiding. 

The pretense of attending tutoring classes designed to prepare her to follow in her father’s footsteps, while she secretly slipped into the art program she had forged her mother’s signature to join, started swiftly.

For the most part, she had gotten away with it. That was, until her art teacher called her parents after she won a competition. One whose name she couldn’t even remember anymore.

Her father was furious when he found out. Perhaps she would have been too if she was in his place. Although, she believed she wouldn’t have allowed her child to hide their passions in the first place.

She wouldn’t have laughed at their dreams.

Y/N started growing bitter. Her carefree world shattered even more.

She had always been sort of an outcast amongst the other children in her social circle, although self-appointed.

They seemed to lack their own dreams, their own passions. Happily following the plans their parents had drawn out for them, while she struggled to even hang up her art pieces with pride. 

The first time Y/N had properly seen Hwang Hyunjin was back in school. The academy they attended was full of children of the elite, cliques of those who loved to flaunt their good looks and their parents’ wealth. One of which the second Hwang son was also in, though she never truly cared enough to acquaint with him, let alone keep his name memorized.

If she tried to recall when his name had become a familiar one in her memories, she would probably say that swim championship he had won for their school. A first time win after six years of their academy losing. Only for Hwang Hyunjin to hold the winner title for his entire academic career.

She had always been acutely aware of his existence, hearing his name here and there throughout school, catching glimpses of the supposedly handsome Hwang Hyunjin in the halls, at events her parents dragged her to. Types of events where she would hole away at some random empty room after initial greetings. 

The first time Y/N had taken a proper look at him was in one of these events, in her search for an empty room she would spend the evening in before it was time to leave. She had stumbled upon Hyunjin, the handsome second son of the Hwangs.

Handsome he was, his gaze snapped to hers the moment she entered. Their eyes locked for the first time as she stood frozen in the doorway, catching him in a …compromising position. 

His lips had been locked with the school president’s. But at the sound of the door, the two broke apart almost instantly. Hyunjin wiped his mouth casually, while the school president, usually prim and proper, sputtered, her eyes darting between his and Y/N’s equally stunned expressions.

   “Ah—Sorry...” Y/N had muttered awkwardly, closing the door behind her as she blinked at the odd combination she had walked in on.

The school president cornered her in halls the following day, pleading eyes already giving way to her request. To not tell anyone she was with Hwang Hyunjin, the apparent “black sheep” of his family, a detail Y/N hadn’t known until that moment, though it wasn’t something she even cared for.

She had her own problems to deal with, and who the school president was or wasn’t making out with, didn’t even register on her radar. She barely even remembered the event, let alone have time to run around and spread gossip.

Still, Y/N promised. And then, just a few weeks later, she found herself witnessing another scene, some other cheerleader pulling the “black sheep” of the Hwang family behind the bleachers.

A sight that would become more familiar than his existence itself.

────────────────────────

The shower water running down her skin should have felt relieving. Should have helped her loosen up, the hot scorching water that always managed to help her relax after a long strenuous day, tingling yet soothing. But as Y/N stood beneath the shower, the one place she usually found peace, her mind refused to settle. Instead, she found herself staring at the water swirling down the drain, her thoughts drifting back to what had happened between her and Hyunjin.

Back to the memory of her trophy husband, kneeling before her, his piercing gaze locked onto hers with a mixture of astonishment and something more. Something darker, more desirous.

And suddenly she was heavily aware of Hyunjin just outside, in the bedroom where he had trudged into after feeling lightheaded.

It seemed he really had exerted too much energy, the alcohol in his system, the confinement between her legs, the exhaustion afterwards. All overtaking him almost instantly. Y/N had even helped him into the bed. 

He had muttered things under his breath, a chuckle escaping through his mumbles as he had tried to keep his eyes open. Yet, ultimately he had lost that battle and soon his breathing had grown shallow.

Y/N had stared down at his passed out form, gnawing at her bottom lip as her eyes trailed over him. Ultimately retreating in for a shower to clear her head.

Yet the shower didn’t seem to clear anything at all.

Instead she felt even more conflicted. 

The scraps of Hwang Hyunjin she could find in her memories resurfaced as she tried to recall as best as she could. Yet every single one of them seemed to be of him with a pretty girl on his arm.

But now here he was, the pretty man on her arm.

The bathroom door had opened with a soft click, Y/N peeked out to glance back into the bedroom, her trophy husband’s body still tucked under the duvet as she had left him. The bedroom was lit dimly, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow, allowing her to look down at Hyunjin’s serene expression as she approached his passed out form.

Y/N instantly thought back to earlier in the evening. As if her mind hadn’t been replaying every moment of it in a loop ever since. The feeling of his touches, his gaze, his tongue, still burning against her skin, in her memories. 

Perhaps that was how his playboy nature worked.

His bold actions, his whiskey-laced breath. 

The way his tongue darted out to lick his lips, the sultry tone in his voice.

Which Hyunjin had it been this evening?

The playboy Hyunjin who knew the arts of pleasure?

Or…

She pictured the flush on his cheeks. The heat that radiated from his skin against her. 

The desperation in his wide gaze, his slightly shaky fingers tugging at her dress as he asked for permission.

Perhaps it was her husband Hyunjin.

The gallery director clutched at the bathrobe tightly, slowly crouching down to get a closer look at his face.

The ever so pretty Hwang Hyunjin. Her playboy husband, so serene, so angelic even in his sleep.

Her eyes traced his features, resting on his lips. The ones that had her chasing that orgasmic feeling that she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. 

His lips, that would curve into those smug smiles whenever he taunted her, irking her slightly, amusing her mostly. 

His lips, so kissable.

Y/N leaned in, her mouth pressing against his. A soft kiss, a simple peck maybe.

His breath felt hot against hers as he slept, a low sleepy moan escaping his mouth as she pulled away, peering back down to take in his sleeping expression. He shifted slightly, brows narrowing in a frown before relaxing. A sight that made her stifle a smile, fingers pushing away the stray hairs that fell over his face. 

The room quieted again after Hyunjin settled once more, his crouching wife observed this side of him.

She had always been the first to fall asleep. Always exhausted, easily slipping into her dreams once her head hit the pillow. Sometimes she would watch Hyunjin from her tucked in spot. The dark-haired man, who seemed to always be doing this or that on the other end of the bedroom. 

Sometimes reading on the recliner, sometimes standing out on the balcony. Oftentimes he would shuffle under the sheets once her eyes fluttered close. Her lids, heavy, yet aware of his presence beside her.

Oftentimes she wondered what he would do if she asked him to embrace her.

Engulf her in his warmth to soothe her of her day’s exhaustion, unaware if his arms would even have that effect.

Though, after tonight, maybe her assumptions weren’t too far off.

She often wondered what it would be like to make this man hers.

To allow him into her heart. The shielded, guarded organ that seemed to harden against love.

Or would she simply become his plaything? The one he would turn to whenever he needed to let off steam.

Hyunjin inhaled deeply in the midst of his shallow breaths, a low noise that was just loud enough to draw her attention back to just the two of them in this room. Y/N finally pushed herself back on her feet, glancing down at him once more.

Did she trust him enough? 

He hadn’t done anything that would have broken her trust, went against whatever clauses they’d laid out, whatever contracts they’d signed. Yet, there was that nagging voice in the back of her head.

The one that whispered to her.

That he was putting on some act, behaving himself only for a moment before he craved attention. Before he got bored of sitting still.

He’d done it before. Or atleast, from what she had read and heard in the past.

After some new scandal of his, he would disappear. Lie low for a couple of months before he was once again dancing in nightclubs. Even prior to their marriage, he had been engulfed in some incident. Something about a bar fight. The news that she read about after her father had thrown the marriage arrangement at her, left her tasting bitter.

Her husband turned in his sleep, sinking deeper into the mattress, his face turned away from hers.

Y/N reached out. Perhaps to push back some more stray strands of his hair, perhaps to lean down and press another kiss to his lips. But she faltered, the quiet hum on her cell phone vibrating against the dresser echoed in the bedroom, the sound had her already striding over, knowing well that these late night calls from her secretary were always urgent.

Knowing well that she had always been the kind to prioritize her work. Her ambitions.

That she would never be a perfect lover, let alone be a perfect wife.

The gallery director fidgeted with her wedding ring, inhaling deeply as her eyes glanced over the glass doors of the meeting room. 

Her secretary had called her late last night, finally arranging a meeting with a potential sponsor for Y Gallery’s upcoming project. 

Y/N had rushed out frantically, glancing back at her husband once, before she had to start preparing for this meeting in the early hours of the morning. But now that she was done, and had nothing to do besides wait, her mind trailed back to Hyunjin.

Back to her trophy husband who seemed to be ever so peaceful in his slumber. She wondered if he would remember what he had done last night?

A part of her cursed herself for not ensuring he was sober enough before agreeing to his ministrations. Although he didn’t seem it, the way he had almost collapsed afterwards had her worried slightly.

Her eyes shot to her cellphone, the discarded device that had a cascade of messages and notifications from people she didn’t care enough about to respond right away.

But no message from Hyunjin.

It made sense. It was still early in the morning, and over the months of being married to him, the gallery director had learned that her husband loved to sleep in. Especially on days after he had a few drinks.

She wondered if she should message him. Tell him to take it easy in case he wakes up with an aching head. Tell him to call her so she could ensure he was alright.

Hear his voice.

His groggy sleep-laced voice, memories of it running through her mind. From all the times he had muttered things as he made her coffee on those days he claimed she had roused him awake.

Y/N blinked at his contact. At the words she had typed out, staring at the letters almost as if they were foreign.

They felt foreign.

Types of words she hadn’t sent in what felt like forever.

Words of concern. Of worry.

Messages a wife would send her husband.

The knock on the glass door tore the gallery director out of her trance, her instant social smile spreading over her face as she stood. Arm extending for a shake.

   “Thank you so much for taking the time to meet me today Madam Kim.” Her voice dripped with confidence.

The gallery director’s husband rustled under the sheets, his brows furrowing in a frown, eyes still shut tight but awake nonetheless.

The silence in the room stretched and for a moment he simply just laid there.

But then as the gears in his brain began to work, the memories of the night prior surged down on him, replaying through his mind in a loop.

Hyunjin’s eyes shot open, slowly he propped himself up to glance around the empty room. His body slightly ached for some reason, and his mind was foggy as he scanned his surroundings. 

There was no sign of Y/N. 

No quiet rustle of sheets, no trace of her presence. No loud clatter of her attempting to be quiet but failing miserably.

The space felt oddly hollow, and an uncomfortable silence settled in as he fully sat up, trying to make sense of everything. Of the time, of the day. 

His fingers traced his lips, tugging at his bottom lip as he tried to distinguish whether whatever he was thinking about right now, whatever he had done, had in fact happened or had it all been a dream.

Hyunjin made his way out of bed, figure crossing the rooms to peer out in hopes to find a glimpse of her, or a clue that would soothe the anxiety that had begun to bubble within him.

The living room was silent, a familiar stillness that settled in at this hour. Times when Hyunjin would head to the gym and the entire house was empty. Yet, the silence felt eerie to the man who had just awoken, his hair rustled messily as he glanced around the room. 

A loud sigh had escaped his lips. The anxious feelings started to subside as he was almost to that conclusion that it had been all a dream.

Almost.

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered to the counter. His brows relax at the sight of the mug of forgotten tea.

The drink that had long gone cold, still in the spot last left. Right across the front island, where he had tasted his wife. 

Not a dream.

Hyunjin gulped, the dry feeling in his throat refusing to subside. And all his anxieties began crashing down.

The second son of the Hwang family had had his fair share of one-night-stands. Sometimes waking up alone, sometimes leaving alone. It had never bothered him enough for his mind to linger on it any longer than he needed to. Forgetting it all almost with the new day.

And although whatever happened between the business-couple wasn’t even close to things Hyunjin had experienced in his one-night-stands, it still pricked at his heart in a way he didn’t think it would.

He knew the kind of person his wife was. Knew her priorities, knew that she would be working at this time, especially on a work day. But he didn’t expect to wake up alone.

Didn’t expect these anxious thoughts to course through him when he was welcomed by silence. 

Perhaps that’s what love was. 

These foreign emotions that surged through him right now had never been present after his past…overnight escapades. The lingering feelings that never seeped into his thoughts the next morning were heavily weighing down on him now.

He must be overthinking it all, he had to be.

Like a love-sick fool who felt abandoned.

Hyunjin had never thought himself to be the clingy type. In fact, he despised the women who often clung to him, professing their adoration for him. Attraction, love, things that made his brows twitch in irritation.

Yet here he was feeling clingy. Being clingy. 

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel of his car as he sat outside his wife’s gallery, gaze wandering over the building. Doubts clouded his mind as he second, third-guessed his actions. 

The sudden knock against the glass of his driver’s side window made him jump, head whipping around to pull down the tinted glass. 

One of Y/N’s gallery employees looked down at him, eyes full of curiosity.

   “Ah, Mr. Hwang, it’s you.” 

Hyunjin forced a smile, attempting to hide the uneasiness that stirred within him. To not appear as suspicious as he thought he looked, sitting out here in the outdoor parking lot wracking his brains. 

Nervous, anxious, but painfully missing his wife.

   “...She left so early, so…” His excuse trailed off, trying to settle the nervous twinge in his tone with a clear of his throat.

The young woman smiled with her nod as she straightened, glancing back at the glass building of the gallery.

   “Director Yeom had an early meeting that ended not too long ago. But now, she’s holed up working. I’m slightly worried...” The employee sighed, her brows furrowing with slight concern.

Words that are just enough to push away all of Hyunjin’s second-guessing. 

The trophy husband was already stepping out of his vehicle.

   “Let’s get her to take a break then.” He mumbled with a gentle smile, nodding at her before he was already striding ahead.

The gallery director herself had indeed been holed away since the early morning. Reworking a proposal that she suddenly needed to do after her meeting. As a gallery owner, the majority of her work was centered around securing investment and funding to keep it running. From managing visitors, renting out parts of the pretty space for events and shoots, to attracting rich patrons and people who had enough money to spend on her, her hands were always full.

But she wanted to do something different this time around. A gala, where proceeds would go towards sponsoring aspiring artists. The rich would get a chance to flaunt their wealth, and the starving artists would get a chance to showcase their talent through her gallery.

Y/N would like to think the meeting went well.

Most of the people who were attracted to her gallery outside of everyday visitors, were the wives of the wealthy businessmen in their circle, familiar faces that Y/N had grown up around. They loved to show off their wealth. Purchasing pieces and hosting events at her gallery had become a popular trend of some sorts in the recent years. Maybe it was to do with the fact that Y/N was going against her family and doing something she was passionate about. The high society women lingered about to either scope out the gossip that surrounded that or maybe they were truly infatuated with the wonderful artwork she had collected and exhibited in her gallery.

Madam Kim was one such prominent woman in their high society. The madame of one of the country’s leading law firms, her late husband is still a respected figure even now, years after his demise. 

The gallery director had initially wanted to propose a potential partnership with Madam Kim’s daughter-in-law, a woman who was an appreciator of art, and a regular patron of Y Gallery. But when the director had reached out, she had gotten a response from the matriarch of the family instead.

Y/N wasn’t complaining. Madam Kim was one of the more tolerable individuals of the elite class, humble in her ways, yet still had an immense influence on the other women and wives of her social circles. Maybe she had gotten lucky.

Or maybe not. The extra work that Madam Kim had requested was starting to take a toll on the gallery director whose eyes were starting to sting. Tell-tale signs of an oncoming migraine already throbbed at her temples.

The knock on her door faltered her machine-like fingers typing away with a frenzy, her eyes shooting over her glasses to take a glance at the incoming visitor.

She expected to see her secretary, perhaps with the drafted email the gallery director had been awaiting. But instead, the long dark locks of her husband’s appeared in her line of sight, and she stiffened at the sight of his figure entering her office.

For a brief second, the two of them stare at each other, simply just taking in each other’s presence, eyes floundering over one anothers face after not having seen it in what almost felt like years. Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to her desk, at the bottle of pain pills that rested by her glass of water, a sight that made his brows furrowed with a frown.

   “Have you slept?” He questioned with a sigh, the concern on his expression deepening.

Her eyes followed his to the same pills. She had taken two in attempts to soothe that headache that pounded at her temples, but of course it hadn’t worked. Instead she decided she would push through this workload before taking a power nap.

   “Not yet.” Her response wasn’t surprising, making her husband groan slightly, his arms crossing over his chest.

   “Have you eaten?” He continued, already understanding what her response was from the silent stare she shot him.

Y/N wanted to break into a laugh, to point out the creases that settled between his brows as he looked at her with an upset frown, clearly displeased by her answers. 

She wanted to break into a laugh because he was one more question away from becoming a nagging spouse. 

Instead she stifled the urge, sighing as her eyes darted to the bright screen that burned her eyes, before they settled back on his form just a few feet away.

   “I’ll eat soon. I promise.” She muttered.

   “Ten minutes.” His words followed immediately after her apparent hollow promise, making her tilt her head in slight confusion.

   “You have ten minutes before I force you to eat.” He added, his brows narrowing.

His words caught her off guard, a tone of his that she had never heard before. An expression that looked foreign too, as he stared with her pointedly. Yet she didn’t hate the sight of it. Rather, it sparked something else in her. That familiar challenged sensation erupted within her. Mixed with something else. Something she couldn’t really describe without thinking about him on his knees again. 

   “Force me to eat?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow.

She leaned back into the cushion of her chair, her fingers lacing together in front of her. The gallery director watched her husband uncross his arms from over his chest, sliding them into the pockets of his slacks before a teasing smile tugged on his lips.

   “Spoon-feed you if I have to. Airplane and all.” His words were laced with a mischievous edge, watching as she squinted for a second, before finally breaking into that laugh she tried her best to stifle.

The contagious sound made her trophy husband mirror, his eyes creasing as his chuckles followed.

His anxieties faded almost instantly at the sound. At the sight of her.

   “Give me ten minutes. I’ll bring you something to eat.” 

Y/N opened her mouth to protest. Maybe to refuse or maybe to lie about not being hungry. But Hyunjin doesn’t allow her to, pointing a finger at her with a commanding tone.

   “Ten minutes. Sit tight.” He shot, already heading out the door.

Ten minutes. She pressed her lips into a soft smile, staring at the empty spot her husband had been standing in.

True to his words, ten minutes later the gallery director’s husband returned. Nodding at her secretary who sat outside her office, his grin radiated almost as he carried whatever nutritious breakfast he could scour for his wife, though it was long past breakfast time. 

But when he entered the room, he was greeted by silence.

He had expected to hear more rushed typing, the sound of her fingers working against the keyboard was a sound so familiar to him, he was slightly stunned by the quiet.

His gaze shifted to settle on the gallery director. The sight of her slumped figure, passed out on her arms over the desk, both fascinated and awed him all at once. 

She lasted ten minutes, barely. Unable to keep her eyes open. He was slightly impressed when he had entered earlier, it was clear she was exhausted, yet would have pushed herself further if he hadn’t distracted her.

Hyunjin sighed, gently placing down the bag of takeout on the coffee table before walking towards her. His eyes skimmed over her desk, at the cluttered surface that resembled her make-shift workstation that was their living room table.

He picked up the crumpled balls of paper, pushing it aside before he pulled out the chair on his side softly, taking a seat across. He leaned against the leather, getting comfortable as he simply gazed down at the exhausted woman who would have sworn she wasn’t sleepy, wasn’t exhausted if asked. But here she was now, softly inhaling and exhaling.

His eyes drifted to her laptop, the screen still glowing brightly, clear that she had fallen asleep not too long ago. 

Gently, Hyunjin reached out, fingers pushing back a stray lock of her hair, a fond smile tugging on his lips as he watched her breathe softly. His gaze shifted to the notepad beside her, amidst the crumpled papers and stacked sheets of ink. 

The open notepad was covered with a jumble of words, arrows, and little annotations in her meticulous handwriting. Despite the confusion of the notes, a few familiar words caught his attention, prompting him to slide the laptop in front of himself. With a nod to himself, he leaned forward and began typing. His eyes flit over the screen once to linger on her form.

   “The things I do for you.” He muttered under his breath, patting her hair softly before diving into the task at hand.

The sound of the press of keys had been a distant sound, yet as she stirred away, it had grown louder.

The gallery director’s lids fluttered open, staring at a sight that should have been strange, yet it didn’t feel so. Maybe she was still dazed from her impromptu nap, refreshed eyes still adjusting as she took in the sight of her husband absorbed between the laptop screen and her notepad, his fingers meticulously working against the keyboard.

It should have been a strange sight. Seeing Hwang Hyunjin working. On something that he claimed not to know about, claimed not to care about. But it wasn’t strange at all.

Instead, her heart clenched, the shielded, guarded organ of hers, suddenly racing in her chest. And all she wanted to do now was reach over and kiss him. 

A incoming notification on her laptop broke the comfortable silence that had settled in her office. An email from her secretary sitting outside, the notification of the email draft Y/N had requested popped up on the screen. It instantly drew Hyunjin’s attention, his eyes scanning the subject-line almost instinctively.

   “Artist Armin…” He muttered, reading to himself.

Y/N’s brows narrowed, a wave of bitterness spreading over her tongue as she slowly sat up. Movements that have Hyunjin look up to her. His gaze softening at the sight of her awoken state.

   “Is it written ‘A-R-Min’ or ‘R-Dot-Min.” She asked, her tone slightly groggy. 

Hyunjin glanced back at the screen, at the notification that lingered on the corner.

   “A-R-Min.” He replied, looking at her with slight wonder.

Y/N inhaled deeply, before letting out a slight groan.

   “It’s supposed to be R-Dot-Min.” She grunted almost, reaching over for the laptop so she could send the corrections to her secretary.

   “I’ll do it. You eat.” Hyujin pressed instead, pulling the device closer to him. 

An action that made her arch and eyebrow.

   “Really? You want to be my personal secretary now?” A smile had spread on her lips.

Hyunjin shrugged, his smug smile returning on his face.

   “What does the compensation package look like?” He chuckled, already ready to type the email to her secretary.

Y/N stood, stretching before she headed towards the bag of food, slightly hungrier than she was before her nap.

   “Anything you want.” Her words are more casual, distracted fingers pulling out her breakfast and lunch.

Her words make Hyunjin pause, fingers hovering over the keys.

For a moment, he wondered if asking for a kiss right now, maybe even daringly asking if he could lift her onto her desk, would be enough compensation. But he caught himself almost instantly, clearing his throat before grabbing the laptop to join her by the couch.

   “R-Dot-Min, right?” He confirmed once again.

Y/N’s hands stilled against the container of food, tasting bitterness all over again.

   “Yes.” She almost spat.

Her gaze drifted off, her thoughts suddenly elsewhere as she ate.

Hyunjin watched her movements, the way her fork disappeared into her mouth, the way her lips wrapped around the bottle of water. It made his own throat dry, his thoughts swirling, and he had to bite back the urge to say something. He didn’t want to sound like some pervert who couldn’t think of anything beyond wanting her all to himself, but suddenly, he couldn’t help it. Those thoughts lingered, darting through his thoughts.

He dropped his gaze, staring at the shiny surface of the glass table between them. He had to remind himself to control himself. To stop thinking like some fuckboy after her body. The trophy husband gnawed at his lower lip, trying to steady himself, his mind.

The gallery director watched as she dropped the empty container of her now-devoured food, wiping her lips. Her eyes lingered on Hyunjin, sitting across from her, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip, before he glanced back at her.

   “Who’s R.Min anyways?” Hyunjin cleared his throat, sending the email corrections to her secretary.

Y/N fell silent at the mention of the artist, the one Madam Kim wanted to collaborate with simply because her grandson had liked his work. 

What do lawyers know about art, anyway? 

She had groaned to herself during the meeting, though outwardly she had smiled, offering her radiant social grin and empty compliments, promising to follow through and try her best for a collaboration.

   “He’s a painter.” She answered curtly, rising to her feet.

Silence settled between them once more as Hyunjin set the laptop aside. The sound of another email pinged, cutting through the quiet, and both of them glanced at the screen.

   “Your secretary sent the email to R.Min.” He read aloud, eyes drifting over her.

A flicker of irritation drew over her expression, arms crossing as she muttered something under her breath. Likely a curse, though Hyunjin couldn’t quite catch it.

   “Enough about that artist—Do you remember what you did last night?” Her voice was sharp.

Her blunt question made him stiffen, his eyes widening slightly as he watched her from his seated position, suddenly wanting to melt into the leather. He swallowed a few times, unsure of what kind of answer would ease the irritation still lingering on her face. The scowl shot towards him, ones he thought he would have gotten rid of after he had pleasured her last night.

   “I do…” He finally sighed, his gleaming gaze flickering from his fingers to her face.

   “Why are you nervous? Do you regret it?” She asked.

Another question that made his eyes widen, this time more from the fear of her misunderstanding than anything else. 

   “No!” He almost exclaimed, licking his lips to calm himself down.

She blinked, slightly taken aback by his loud response. The pressing expression, the piercing gaze that he stared up at her with.

Her eyes traced over his rigid form that looked up at her. 

Nervous. Passionate perhaps. 

Kissable.

The gallery director only needed two long strides.

Three steps and she was towering over him, her figure already leaning into him. Hyunjin reflexively drew himself back as she inched closer, until he was pressing flush against the leather of the sofa, trapped almost. He inhaled sharply, stunned eyes darting between hers to grasp exactly what was happening, why she was suddenly so close.

Could she hear his heart about to explode in his chest?

Y/N can’t help but stare in fascination. This up-close view of her pretty husband was even more breathtaking than last night, his open eyes boring into hers. She could see the nervous twinge in his gaze, something she hadn’t truly expected from the ever-so-cocky Hwang Hyunjin. Yet, seeing it now, she couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked beneath her.

Her fingers ghost over his lips. The ones she had gotten a feel of after stealing a kiss in his sleep. Although she would never, ever admit she had done so. He shuddered almost, even without her touching him yet.

   “I-is this a dream?” He found himself muttering instead.

Her brow arched at his words.

   “You dream of me?” She countered, her tone laced with a teasing edge, a hint of amusement.

Hyunjin swallowed hard.

   “No.”

He was trying his best. To cling onto that fragile thread of sanity left in him. To not appear desperate, craving her touch, her lips. Ready to melt underneath her.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her gaze dropping to his lips for a split second before locking with his eyes again. Clearly unconvinced.

   “I don’t kiss liars.” She murmured smugly.

Hyunjin swallowed hard. The thread snapped.

His hands shot out, slipping behind her hair to rest again the nape of her neck, tugging her toward him. 

His lips crash against hers. Desperate, frantic. 

All control shattered, his sanity slipping away as he pulled her closer. 

Closer. 

Into himself, wrapping his arms around her, settling her over him, onto his lap.

Melting underneath her. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! (18+) - @jellyleggz, @binniesbabe, @bookswillfindyouaway, @lemonn015, @scarlet789, @onlyhyunjin, @freekyfangirl, @candyquokka, @jehhskz, @stayjinnie, @suzyhhj , @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @d34thon2legs, @dessianna1, @kpopjackie, @rundontwalkshesaid, @sheerfreesia007, @thecutiepieme, @danihwang882, @hyunebunx, @seeeeking-skz, @hanadulsetaad, @velvetmoonlght, @alrm02, @tirena1, @hityoulikebahng, @tsunderelino, @cybergracie, @notevenheretbh1, @piscesrising01, @alisonyus, @hyuneyeon, @broken-glowsticks, @modesttiger, @gnabnahcbby, @shhyucm, @hanniesdegree, @lenfilms, @sushiinmidnight, @chrisbangsass, @fixation-dump, @minluvly, @loxgirl2004, @aeri-skzver, @ellemir2404, @mariahxrrera, @t1eekn0wsaurus, @aprilmaejune77, @amenabiii [CLOSED]

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

chance of showers

pairing: leon x reader

cws: piss, p in v, pee in v, ddlg

a/n: yeah, it was bound to happen, wasn't it? the double sin of ddlg and piss

wc: 1.5k

These days, Leon bids you adieu in the threshold between your typical affection and your faux-innocence facade that comes with a side of fuck-me eyes. That’s when Daddy takes over. 

When he comes home from work, he can sense the desperation threatening to boil over into teary-eyed, delirious begging so he gives you an offer you can’t refuse: he’ll be your chauffeur to the not-quite-luxurious sex-filled sanctuary of your shared bedroom. That is to say, he’ll carry you across the hall where he can fuck you stupid without all the back pain that a couch rendezvous would give him.

You greet him with a hug and a heart-eyed grin, immediately discarding all previous activities for his attention. You’ve been gorilla-glue stuck to the TV all day due to the once a week chance to watch all the High School Musical movies on cable — which Leon still pays for — one after the other. He can tell by your antsy legs, shifting from one foot to the other. It’s not nerves– daddy makes you relaxed. No, it’s a cute little pee-pee dance.

“Do you need to do something before we go have some fun together?”

“Uh-uh. I wanna have special time with daddy now.”

“Are you sure? If you need to go pee, daddy can wait for you.”

“I don’t need to go.”

Leon doesn’t need a polygraph test to know that’s a fucking lie. 

But, you’re a big girl, or, at least, you’ve insisted that you are whenever Leon challenges that silly little ‘fact’ you’ve tried to manifest into reality. 

The reality is: you need daddy’s help, particularly when you’re in this state. 

Leon should take you by the hand and lead you to the bathroom, he should tell, not ask. But, it’s like letting your toddler touch the hot stove just once – they’ll learn their lesson and they’ll never do it again. 

You’re an adult who has the reasoning skills to know that you should pee. Plus, it’s not like pissing yourself is anything more than an embarrassing moment and a bitch to clean up. 

So, Leon doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he has you how he wants you. All fucked-out, your pussy stuffed so full you can see his dick in your abdomen and your brain completely empty of all thoughts (and your bladder so full he could make you burst if he pressed on your stomach with enough force). 

As he often does, Leon makes you ride him because he thinks it’s cute to watch you struggle, and he inevitably takes over the job of gripping your hips and pulling them back down to meet his. Over and over again until you think you’re going to pass out. 

Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth is occupied with your constant moaning – until you have an ‘uh-oh’ moment. Leon can see it flash across your face. 

“Daddy,” you manage through a shaky voice. “No more, no more.”

The thing is: No more isn’t your safe word. No more is usually what you say when everything feels so intense that you’re overwhelmed and need Leon’s reassurance. He rubs your back and showers you in praise while he continues to fuck you as the unwritten protocol says he should. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he says. “You’re doing so good for me.”

“No, no,” you protest, shaking your head vehemently. “Have to go pee, daddy.”

“Baby, we’ve been through this before, remember? The first time you squirted, you thought you were gonna pee, but you didn’t. You liked that feeling, right?”

It’s true. You were absolutely convinced you’d pee yourself the first time Leon made you squirt, but you both suspect this time is different. 

“No, I’m really gonna pee this time.”

You’re clenching around him, he can feel it. Maybe you are going to squirt, he thinks. 

Piss is hardly the worst thing Leon’s been covered in – he’s 40 years old, old enough to give up on giving a fuck about this kind of thing. And, God, he’ll take any chance to tease you. 

“Didn’t Daddy ask you if you needed to go pee earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you say?”

“No.”

“Was that a lie? Did you lie to Daddy?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, since you made your choice by yourself and didn’t want daddy’s help, you’re not gonna get it. You can hold it until I’m done with you.”

“No, I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.”

“Then, I guess you’ll just have to let it out.”

“No, no, no, no, no. I don’t want to. I wanna hold it.”

Go right ahead, he thinks, as he continues to fuck you, completely disregarding your desperation. He wants to see you break and at this point, you’re doing anything to hold back, on the verge of tears. 

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you start to cry as warm liquid trickles out of you, coating his cock little by little as pee continues to flow from you. You only leak a little in the grand scheme of things, but you’re humiliated, full-on crying to the point where it’s worrisome.

Finally, he slows his thrusts. 

“Hey,” he rubs your back soothingly. “It’s okay. You’re not in trouble. I told you you could do it. I’m not mad at you.”

“It’s so embarrassing.”

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I bet it felt good to let go. Didn’t it?”

“A little bit… but I still have to go more.”

“Then, go, baby. Let it out.”

Because, one, it doesn’t matter at this point – he’ll have to change the sheets anyway. And, two, he finds the whole ordeal a bit more arousing than he suspected he would. 

When you dare to make eye-contact, you’ve got doubt written all over you, like you think this is some sort of trap or a sacrifice of his comfort for yours. 

“Go ahead. It’s gonna feel good.”

Nervous, but desperate, you have to let go. 

Leon praises you as you finally allow yourself some relief, releasing short bursts and then a steady stream. 

“You’re doing so well for me, baby. Let it all out.”

When the torrential downpour slows to a leaky faucet, his thumb finds its way to your clit and he resumes his thrusts, gaining momentum steadily. 

Your next revelation is not an ‘uh-oh’, just an ‘oh’ in a series of incoherent moans. 

“Daddy, daddy, I’m gonna-”

“I know you are.”

Neither of you can be sure if your next release is pee or squirt but what matters is that you came, squeezing Leon’s cock so perfectly that he’s barely hanging on by the time you’re coming down from your  high. 

Usually, he asks you where you want it, makes you beg for it inside, and he finally gives it to you, but now, his face is already buried in the crook of your shoulder as he’s given into the pleasure. 

He fills you to the brim, ruins the bed a little more for the sake of a heavenly orgasm. It’s totally fucking worth it every time. 

After a moment of silence, he pats you on the butt and says, “hop up, baby”.

“No,” you protest, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Baby, I’ll come right back, but I gotta pee.”

He laughs a little at the irony. It feels cruel in a way to make you piss yourself while he gets a more dignified experience. 

You’re ready to even out the score, quick to turn the tables. 

“No,” you insist. “You can either hold it or wait until I’m done with you.”

Leon should’ve anticipated your smartass move. 

“You really want me to piss inside you? ‘Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t let me get up.”

It’s a threat, it’s a promise, it’s a plea for you to let him go. 

“It’s only fair,” you say. 

“Fine,” he concedes, repositioning you so that you’re on your back. Yeah, he could get up, he could win now that he’s on top, but maybe there’s a part of him that wants to do this. To make you regret your attitude when you find out what it feels like for Leon to piss inside you, to prove something to you, to punish you – there are so many excuses, but the truth is: the idea excites him. 

“You ready?” he asks – though the question is more directed at himself as stage fright begins to creep up inside him. 

“You can do it, daddy,” you say, voice full of genuine encouragement rather than your previous taunting tone. 

So, he does. The release is double the relief with your warmth surrounding him as he lets go. You look awfully curious, almost in awe of the fact that it’s happening, especially since you can’t exactly see it – at least, not yet. But Leon’s feeling the type of relaxation that less obstinate people get from meditation. 

“All done,” he says, knowing that’s a fucking lie, but pulling out anyway, letting the last droplets hit you on the stomach.

“Daddy!” you say, amusement barely hidden behind your mild vexation. 

“Sorry,” he says with a shrug and a smirk that says he’s anything but. 

“I think it’s time for a trip to the bathroom. We really need to shower,” you say. 

“Hey, I just gave you a little bit of a shower, baby. If you wanted more, you could’ve asked.”

But that kind of shower will have to wait until next time. 

[nemo-writes]

𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚜 ; 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 - 𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜

➝ steve harrington + eddie munson x loser-club!reader

➝ synopsis; in a quiet moment at melvald’s, an unexpected re-encounter sparks the start of something new, hinting at possibilities you hadn’t anticipated.

⚠️ warnings; none

➝ series masterlist, moodboard

➝ previous chapter ; next chapter

Wednesday, February 26 1986, Hawkins, Indiana

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, casting a pale, almost sterile glow over the aisles of Melvald’s. The faint hum was joined by the low murmur of a radio playing some old tune you didn’t recognize. The store was quiet for the most part—just you, a cashier near the front, and a few other patrons milling about.

You stood in the middle of the aisle, staring at the two items in each of your hands: a jar of peanut butter and a fresh new box of pencils.

It wasn’t like you were starving. Not yet, at least. You still had a half-loaf of bread and some canned soup tucked away back at the trailer. But your groceries had dwindled faster than you’d hoped, and the past week had been a stark reminder that you couldn’t survive on granola bars and apples.

You also still had more than a few pencils to spare. But they were the fancy ones, and you felt bad about going through them.

California loomed in your mind. The miles stretched out like an invisible tether, pulling you westward, and with them came the gnawing worry of money. The last thing you needed was to get stuck in the middle of nowhere without enough cash to get you the rest of the way.

You glanced down at the jar of peanut butter again. It was the practical choice, the responsible one. Protein. Energy. You could stretch it out for days, pairing it with whatever odds and ends you had left.

But then your gaze shifted to the box of pencils. Cheap but brand new, the tips perfectly sharp, their bright yellow casing practically gleaming under the store lights. You could already feel the weight of them in your hand, the satisfying scratch of graphite against paper as you filled the pages of your sketchbook.

A small indulgence. Something for you.

“Just pick one,” you muttered to yourself under your breath, though it was easier said than done.

You were still debating between the jar of peanut butter and the box of pencils when a voice cut through your thoughts.

“Never seen you before.”

You blinked, looking up sharply. A tall man stood at the end of the aisle, leaning slightly into the shelves. He had a lanky frame, glasses perched on a sharp nose, a moustache, and his head was tilted as if trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at. His eyes squinted slightly behind the lenses, studying you in a way that was both curious and unnervingly direct.

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure how to respond.

He straightened, stepping closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

You kept your expression neutral, shrugging lightly. 

His lips twitched, not quite a smile, as his gaze swept over you again, like he was piecing together some puzzle. “Huh.” He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “You should be in class.”

You frowned, the words catching you off guard. “What?”

“School,” he clarified, gesturing vaguely with one hand, his other clothing his own shopping basket. “You look like you should be in school. Why aren’t you in class right now?”

A flicker of annoyance bubbled in your chest, but you kept it in check. You’d gotten this before—strangers assuming things, projecting their ideas of who you were or what you should be doing. Still, it didn’t make it any less irritating.

“I’m not from around here. And I graduated last year,” you replied curtly, tone clipped.

The man’s head tilted again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your response. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood there with a thoughtful expression, as if weighing your words.

“Well,” he finally said, stepping back with an almost dismissive nod, “that makes sense, I suppose.”

Before you could turn away, he took a step closer, his presence suddenly overbearing. “But you still don’t look like you’re much older than the kids at Hawkins High,” he pressed, his tone pointed. “You sure you’re not skipping class?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he barreled on, not giving you a chance.

“Where are you from, anyway? Hawkins isn’t exactly a tourist hotspot. We don’t get many wanderers. Especially not ones like you.” His words carried a faint, accusatory edge, and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head again, waiting for an answer you hadn’t been allowed to give.

Your grip on the jar of peanut butter tightened, irritation sparking in your chest. “Look,” you began, trying to keep your tone even, “I’m just—”

He cut you off, waving a hand as if to dismiss whatever you were about to say. “Don’t get defensive. I’m just saying, a young woman wandering around town in the middle of a school day? Looks a little odd, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw, the tension building as his words piled on. Who even was this guy?

“I don’t see why that’s any of your business,” you snapped, your patience finally wearing thin.

Before he could fire back, another voice cut in from behind you, casual but firm.

“She told you already: she’s not from around here, Callahan.”

You turned to see a familiar figure leaning casually against the edge of the aisle. It’s the guy from the arcade. Steve was it? 

Callahan straightened, his posture stiffening slightly. “Harrington,” he said, his tone flat. “Didn’t know you were on the welcome committee now.”

Steve smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Didn’t know you were the department’s head of small-town interrogations.”

You could see the muscle in Callahan’s jaw tighten as he glanced between you and Steve. “Just doing my job,” he muttered.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve said with a chuckle. “I think you’ve done enough. She’s not skipping school, and she’s not planning some big heist in the peanut butter aisle. So maybe back off?”

Callahan shrugged and finally left. You watched him go with an eyebrow raised, clearly unimpressed. 

Steve shifted his weight, offering you a sheepish smile. “Sorry about him. Callahan’s harmless, but he’s got a knack for making people want to punch him.”

“Noted.” You huffed a quiet laugh despite yourself. “Steve, right?”

He nodded, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised you remembered his name. He then glanced down at the peanut butter and pencils still in your hands. “Tough choice?” he asked, tone lighter now.

You sighed, giving the pencils one last lingering glance before setting them back on the shelf and securing the jar of peanut butter in your basket. Steve didn’t say anything, though his lips quirked in a way that suggested he was holding back some comment.

“Uh, good choice,” he said after a moment, the words a bit rushed. “Peanut butter’s… practical. Anyway, just go ahead and pay. I’ll catch up with you.”

You frowned slightly, tilting your head at him. “Why?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “I mean, I figured—you know, Callahan was kind of a jerk, so… I dunno. Thought I’d walk you out?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing away like he was already regretting opening his mouth.

For a second, you considered calling him out on it, but you just shrugged and made your way toward the register.

The cashier rang up your items with a detached air that you were just slightly grateful for. You handed over your money, took your change, and stepped outside into the brisk afternoon air.

You leaned against the brick wall by the entrance, the faint hum of traffic and occasional chatter of passing townsfolk filled the quiet as you waited.

You weren’t entirely sure why you waited. It wasn’t like you owed this guy anything—or even knew him, for that matter—but there you were.

He emerged a moment later, his steps a little hurried, like he’d debated something inside for longer than he meant to. He stopped in front of you, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets, his gaze darting between you and the ground.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a touch quieter than it had been earlier.

“Hey,” you replied, already halfway through a polite goodbye when he suddenly pulled something from behind his back and held it out to you.

It was the box of pencils.

You blinked at him, confused. 

“Uh… it’s, um…” He rubbed the back of his neck again, his face flushing slightly. “It’s just, like, a… welcome thing. You know. To Hawkins.” He laughed awkwardly, glancing at the ground for a second. “I figured my first impression wasn’t, like, great, and, uh, Callahan was kind of… you know… a total jerk. So, yeah. Here.”

You stared at the box, then at him. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said, unsure if you were amused or bewildered.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied quickly, his words tumbling out. “But, I mean, you were clearly having a hard time picking, so I figured…” He trailed off, looking a little sheepish.

You accepted the box and clutched it tightly in your hand, the edges pressing into your palm as a rare, big smile spread across your face. You glanced back at Steve, who was still rocking awkwardly on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Thanks,” you said, the sincerity in your voice making him blink and straighten slightly. “If you ever drop by The Hideout, I’ll treat you to something.”

Steve’s brows shot up, and he let out a short, incredulous laugh. “The Hideout? That place is a total shit-hole.”

You shrugged, the smile lingering as the grocery bag on your grip. “Kinda, but my offer stands.”

He stared at you for a second, as if trying to decide whether you were serious, and then shook his head with a bemused grin. “Alright, peanut butter girl. I’ll… keep that in mind.”

You gave him your name, and he parroted it back with a small grin. With that, you waved at him, a casual flick of your hand as you turned and started walking down the street.

You could feel his eyes on you as you left, lingering for a moment before he finally turned back toward the store. The pencil box felt light in your hand, but the gesture weighed heavily on your mind in the best way.

For the first time in a while, Hawkins didn’t seem quite so strange. Or maybe, it felt strange in just the right way

.

.

.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the trailer park as you settled into your new acquisition—a worn beach chair you’d snagged on your way home. It had been sitting on someone’s porch with a “FREE” sign taped to it, and after a quick glance around and a good wipe down, you’d claimed it as your own.

Now, you sat with one leg tucked beneath you, the other dangling lazily off the side as you balanced your sketchbook on your knee. The box of new pencils sat nearby, the lid flipped open like a treasure chest of potential.

The soft scratch of graphite against paper was oddly soothing, and your mood had stayed buoyant since leaving Melvald’s. The pencils weren't the higher grade stuff, but it felt perfect in your hand, and you let yourself relax into the rhythm of drawing.

It wasn’t intentional—your hand had just begun moving, and before you realised it, Steve’s face started to take shape on the page. The messy hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the almost boyish tilt to his expression. He was handsome, you had already admitted that much, but what really caught your attention was how balanced his proportions were. His face was perfect for practising—symmetry without being boring, sharp features softened just enough by the way he carried himself.

You tilted your head, erasing a stray line and redrawing it with more precision. 

Once you were satisfied, you flipped to a fresh page and moved on. The store came next. Melvald’s had a certain unremarkable charm, the kind that spoke of a familiar small-town life in a way that wasn’t quite picturesque but still nostalgic. You captured the rows of shelves, the faded linoleum, the fluorescent lights overhead.

From there, the arcade. It wasn’t hard to picture it—the flashing neon, the rows of machines, the way the screen of Dragon’s Lair glowed in the dim room. You even sketched out a tiny figure hunched over one of the consoles, a nod to yourself and the hours you’d spent there already.

Every now and then, you paused to glance up at the sky, the light shifting as the afternoon wore on. There was still time before your shift at The Hideout, and for once, you didn’t feel like rushing anywhere. For now, this was enough. Just you, the sketchbook, and the steady rhythm of your pencils carving out tiny pieces of the world.

You were halfway through a granola bar, idly chewing as your pencil danced across the page, adding a few finishing touches to your latest sketch. The soft rustle of leaves and distant hum of a passing car filled the air, peaceful and unassuming.

That peace was interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel path nearby. You glanced up briefly, and there he was—Eddie, his long stride a little uneven as he sauntered closer.

You raised a hand in a casual wave. “Eddie, hey.”

His face perked up immediately, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to eager delight. He sped up, closing the distance between you with an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Hey!” he called, grinning wide as he came to a stop a few feet away. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sketchbook balanced on your knee, and his brows shot up. “Whoa, what’s this?”

Before you could answer, his hand darted out, snatching the sketchbook from your lap.

“Hey!” you snapped, bristling as you shot to your feet, trying to grab it back. But he was quick, and he held it far away from your immediate grasp, flipping through the pages like a little boy rifling through a new comic book.

“Oh, come on, don’t be shy,” he teased, his tone playful as his eyes darted over your sketches. “Let’s see what we’ve got here...”

You glared at him, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “Eddie, give it back.”

But he was too absorbed in the drawings to care. His face lit up like Christmas as he turned page after page, his mouth running faster than your irritation could catch up.

“Holy shit, these are amazing! Look at this one—what is this, Melvald’s? Nailed it. And the arcade? Man, this is insane!”

His genuine enthusiasm softened your annoyance just a little, though you still wanted to wring his neck for swiping your stuff without asking.

Then he stopped, mid-flip, his hand frozen on the page.

“Oh.”

You frowned, your irritation returning in full force. “Oh, what? What did you—”

He turned the sketchbook around, pointing to the page with wide, incredulous eyes.

It was Steve's sketch.

Eddie stared at it like it was a crime scene photo, his face blanching as he slowly shifted his gaze to you.

“Harrington?” he blurted, his voice high-pitched with disbelief. “You drew Steve Harrington? Pretty-boy, hair-spray king Steve Harrington? Why?!”

Well, at least the drawing was good enough for him to recognize Steve. You rolled your eyes, reaching up and finally managing to snatch the sketchbook back. “He’s got good proportions,” you said flatly, tucking the book protectively against your chest.

“Proportions?” Eddie repeated, his voice dripping with mock horror. “You’re using Harrington—the guy with the stupid perfect hair and teeth—for proportions?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “You said it, not me. He’s symmetrical. Easy to practise on.”

Eddie sputtered, his hands flailing like he didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re insane. You know that, right? Absolutely insane.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by his dramatics. “You done?”

He paused, deflating slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess. But, seriously…” He shot you a sly grin. “Couldn’t have picked someone cooler? Like me, maybe?”

You snorted, flopping back into your chair and flipping the sketchbook closed. “Cooler than Steve Harrington? You’ve got competition, Munson.”

He clutched his chest like you’d wounded him. “Ouch. You wound me.”

Eddie plopped down on the ground next to you, his curiosity apparently satisfied, though his grin lingered. “Fine. But I’m just saying—next time, pick me. My face deserves some art.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. The moment had passed, the tension easing into a kind of comfortable camaraderie as you rolled your pencil between your fingers.  

Eddie stayed seated on the ground, leaning back on his hands as he tilted his head to look up at you, a mischievous glint still lingering in his eyes. His gaze shifted to the closed sketchbook in your lap, and his grin turned speculative.

“So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was part of some grand idea forming in his head, “are you any good with, like, fantasy stuff?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Fantasy stuff?”

“Yeah, you know, dragons, wizards, epic battles—all that good shit,” he said enthusiastically, sitting up straighter.

You tilted your head, giving him a dry look. “Not exactly,” you replied, your tone flat. “Most of my drawings are just... stuff I see.”

Eddie waved a hand dismissively, like that was a minor inconvenience at best. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice gaining momentum. “You’ve got the talent, and I’ve got the ideas.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt as he forged ahead.

“I’ve been looking for someone to help me out,” he continued, gesturing dramatically with his hands as he spoke. “See, for my D&D campaigns—the guy who used to help me draw maps and monsters and all that... he’s gone. And I’m stuck with my own crappy sketches that look like a five-year-old drew them.”

He paused to take a breath, his excitement bubbling over like a pot left unattended.

You crossed your arms, your eyebrow arching higher. “Uh-huh.”

“And that’s where you come in,” he said, pointing a finger at you like he’d just discovered the secret to life itself. “You could be my official campaign artist. You’d kill it. You’d make my worlds come to life!”

You leaned back in your chair, your expression deadpan. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie stopped mid-gesture, blinking at you like you’d just confessed to a crime. “Wait. You’re telling me you’ve never played? Not even heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“Wow.” He shook his head, looking genuinely stunned. “That’s...tragic. You’ve been deprived.”

“I’ll survive,” you retorted dryly.

Eddie, undeterred, launched back into his pitch, describing elaborate campaigns, mythical beasts, and heroic quests with a kind of fervour that made you wonder how much coffee he drank in a day. You just watched him, arms crossed and eyebrows still raised, clearly not following most of what he was saying but mildly entertained by how much he seemed to care about it.

Eventually, he paused, looking at you expectantly.

“Well? What do you think?” he asked, grinning like a kid.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “I think... you’ve got a lot of energy for someone sitting on the ground.”

Eddie laughed, flopping back onto the grass dramatically. “That’s a yes in my book,” he declared, clearly deciding the matter was settled.

“And of course, I’d pay you,” he added, almost offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal.

That gave you pause. “Wait. Pay me?”

Eddie perked up immediately, sitting up straighter. “Well, yeah. I mean, it wouldn’t be much—let’s not get crazy—but I’d figure something out. A few bucks, maybe some snacks or drinks. Whatever works, y’know?”

You looked at him properly, arms crossing over your chest. “You’d actually pay me to draw your... whatever it is?”

“Campaigns,” he said, grinning. “And yes, I would. It’s important stuff. These worlds need to come to life! I’ve got, like, a reputation to uphold here.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to gauge if he was serious. From the eager glint in his eyes to the way he leaned forward slightly, it was clear he was.

“Eddie,” you started, your tone laced with disbelief, “you’d pay me... to draw fantasy creatures and maps for a game I don’t even understand?”

He nodded enthusiastically, his grin widening. “Exactly! You catch on quick. Look, your stuff is amazing, and my players? They’ll flip when they see your work. Plus, I really, really need someone who can make my dragons look like dragons and not lumpy potatoes.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself, leaning back in your chair. “You’re something else, Munson.”

“Is that a yes?” he pressed, bouncing slightly on his knees.

You tilted your head, considering. Money wasn’t exactly easy to come by, and this was definitely one of the weirder ways to earn some. But still...

“I’ll think about it,” you said finally, your lips twitching into a small smirk.

Eddie groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Fine. But you’re totally gonna say yes. I can feel it in my bones.”

You shook your head, picking up your pencil again, though you couldn’t quite hide the amused glint in your eyes. “We’ll see.”

Eddie grinned, clearly taking your noncommittal answer as a victory. “You’re not gonna regret this. Trust me.”

You didn’t bother correcting him, already half-lost in your sketchbook again. But the idea lingered in the back of your mind, the thought of creating something fantastical for someone so absurdly enthusiastic not entirely unappealing.

divider credit

[zee-143]

♡Confess I loved you from the start♡

A/N: After pure procrastination, I finally wrote something. Now I have to get to the other members smh😭😭 idk I'll probably do Sunoo next. Also should I have a tag list? If so, tell me if you wanna be added!! Happy reading<33

Warnings: swearing lmao

Fluff☁⭐

Jake x Fem!Reader

If you see a mistake, no you didn't 🙂

ENHYPEN's Playlist

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

You loved Jake. More than you'd ever like to admit

Having known each other for so long, he was always your happy place. Almost everyone at uni believed your souls were bounded together. And others assumed you must be partners, right? Considering how Jake himself drapes his arms around you ever so casually or often gives you forehead kisses. You wouldn't call them wrong.This has been a thing for years. Although, it's only now you question why seeing his face makes your heart rate spike.

Jake rambles on about something that happened the previous day. You took a sip of your drink, slouching into the booth of your favorite little diner. You and Jake would always come here throughout high school. It was practically a second home. Most of the staff knew you both quite well too. The 80s inspired diner brought nothing but delicious meals and heartwarming memories. You couldn't really come here much due to university. So all these little moments meant the world.

"I need to ask you something" His words change the conversation completely. Now, you're actually paying attention. Not just admiring his face while his words only translated into 'blah blah blah's. "Something?" Your eyebrows raise. Jake's fingers tap against the table, his lips pressing together in thought. His mouth opened to speak but not a word came out.

"Take your time" You say. Your heart raced and a million thoughts jumped into your brain. Could he be confessing? Could he actually like me? Shit, is this even happening? You took another sip of your drink, trying to disguise your smile. Jake caught your gaze and sighed. "I-I want to ask Lexie to be my girlfriend" Jake blurts out.

"What? " your voice cracks

"Lexie. I want to ask her out" he repeats

You held back any sound that might indicate you're fucking hurt. Sure, you knew Jake liked Lexie. He's liked her ever since the first year of university. She's apart of the friend group and she's an absolute sweet heart. She has this natural beauty to her. Lexie is a close friend of yours but you still envy that she stole Jake's attention so easily.

"I know this is sudden" Jake said "But I really need your advice. Please? " He intertwined his fingers with yours and pouts. You don't say anything. You don't know what to say. The fact that he came to you for advice warmed your crushed heart. You tell him everything you believe Lexie would appreciate. You give him things to say or think about. You say this all with an aching soul. You wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn't with you

And just before you both leave the diner and go your seperate ways, Jake hugs you. He pulls you into the warmest hug you've ever felt. With joy, you hug him back. "You're the best, y/n" Jake pulls away, keeping his eyes on yours. "Thanks for always being so supportive"

You might be crazy but the way his eyes softened. His smile making an appearance more than usual. That pink dusted across his face─that you might as well be imagining. Delusional feelings only prompt you to think he feels exactly what you feel. Although, it can't be the case. Jake often talks about Lexie like she's the only girl on planet earth. You really can't let irrational thoughts take over like this. "No problem, Jake. I'm always happy to help" You respond, forcing a grin

♡

Your dorm room is a load of silence. Not even the sound of a bug could be heard. You lay on the sofa while looking up at the ceiling. Every thought seemed to be about Jake. You desperately tried to think of anything else. Food, laundry or cats? No point though as your heart continues to drag back to that special friend who would always stay a friend.

You couldn't just sit here and feel bad for yourself. You had to let Jake know. It's a secret you've been hiding for him. You both promised not to keep secrets like this. Especially for so long. It only felt right to go tell him. Let him know you're so in love with him it hurts.

You jump off your couch and rush towards the door. You lock the dorm room and storm out of the dorm building. For some odd reason, you forgot it was raining outside. Light rain though. Nothing to absolutely kill you. You think about going back to get an umbrella but you're already outside anyway. You don't have a car either as Jake always drives you around. Fuck it, we dash, you thought

And upon arriving at his place, you're basically drenched. That was the least of your problems though. You knocked on Jake's door then hear rustling from inside. A few moments pass before Jake pulls the door open, staring down at you. "Y/N? What are yo-"

You push yourself inside, hurriedly cutting him off. Jake shuts the front door with an eyebrow raise. "Aww. You didn't miss me already, did you? " He teased. You give him a vulnerable look before pouring out everything. "Jake. I know you like Lexie and you both would make an amazing couple. I-I just wanted to say that I love you! But if you wanna be with- uh- Lexie, then that's fine by me-"

"Woah. Calm down" Jake chuckles, pulling you into a warm embrace, simply ignoring how wet you are from the rain.

"Lex and I weren't going to work out anyway. She's kinda already taken" you hear him sigh. You silently thank your ancestors for that. Her already being taken makes things slightly more easier. Or maybe not because you did blatantly say you love him. Love. What a strong word. "Oh. That's unfortunate"

"Yeah" Jake rests his head on top of yours

"Glad to know you love me, baby"

You slap his arm and roll your eyes. Jake pulls away with a laugh. "Your confession, not mine! " He states. You try not to laugh while giving him a stern look. "I was just saying things" You shrug. Jake intertwined his hand with yours, pulling you close again. "To be honest with you" He takes a moment to pause before continuing "I don't really like Lexie. I only forced myself to like her because of you" His confession caught you off guard. You mask your shock with a smile. "Well, you had me convinced"

"Did I? " He frowns "I must have hurt you, huh? I-I wasn't sure if you'd ever feel the same. You're my best friend and I didn't want our relationship to feel uncomfortable because of some stupid crush-"

You cut him off, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. As you pull away, you notice how red his ears are. Jake blinks for a few moments before speaking again. "Y/N? " He smiles

"Jake?" you smile back

"Can I be your boyfriend? "

"Only if you let me be your girlfriend"

"Deal" Jake wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss against your forehead. It was only then he realized how drenched you were. "Let's get you out of those clothes, yeah? " He suggests. You gasp before punching his arm. "That's so forward, Sim"

Jake winced, shaking his head. "Not like that! Your clothes are wet, dumbass. Don't want you catching a cold" He removes his arms from your waist, stepping back. You then realize what he meant, letting out an awkward chuckle. "Ah, sorry"

"Pervert" He jokes, pulling you towards his room. You were about to respond but thought against it. "I love you too by the way" Jake says with an affectionate tone. "Love you more" You replied

Despite this not being how you wanted your confession with him to go, you're glad it did. Knowing that Jake has loved you from the start. He loved you just as long as you loved him. It sparked a chain of happiness. You were ready to spend all your seconds with him. Each and every one<3

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[justletmereadmycomics]

hearing people say something was their childhood is an experience because I don’t remember mine. There are bits and pieces here and there, but most of what I “remember” is inferences from information given to me by my parents and siblings and close friends I’ve had for years. I don’t remember my childhood. I never have.

[ukulelekatie]

I just revived my old iPod touch that I haven’t used since ~2013 after believing it to be dead dead for years and oh my god it’s like opening up an old time capsule. There are photos of me and my friends that I haven’t seen in years, taken in an old high school building that doesn’t exist anymore. I have games that are no longer downloadable on the app store. It’s running iOS 5 with the original skeuomorphism app icons. I still have the youtube app. My contacts app is full of maiden names and deadnames. The music app has songs I haven’t heard in almost a decade but still remember all the lyrics to. A daily alarm set for 5:30 AM (god I can’t believe I had to wake up that early in high school) and another set to 11:11 PM to remind me to make a wish. Reminders to finish homework assignments, or to write my application essay for the university I ended up attending, and one marking the release date for the final episode of Cabin Pressure. The last thing I googled was “how to draw people hugging”.

Possibly the strangest thing is that the tumblr app still opens, but it’s stuck in a permanent snapshot of 2013 where it won’t show me any new posts no matter how many times I refresh. My dash is full of old BBC Sherlock posts from long-lost mutuals who have either since deactivated or got unfollowed or changed urls so many times that I don’t even recognize them. Lady Gaga and Game of Thrones are the top trends. My profile shows my previous url and icon, with only 43 followers. I feel like a time traveler

[dostoyevsky-official]

The Elite College Students Who Can’t Read Books

Nicholas Dames has taught Literature Humanities, Columbia University’s required great-books course, since 1998. He loves the job, but it has changed. Over the past decade, students have become overwhelmed by the reading. College kids have never read everything they’re assigned, of course, but this feels different. Dames’s students now seem bewildered by the thought of finishing multiple books a semester. His colleagues have noticed the same problem. Many students no longer arrive at college—even at highly selective, elite colleges—prepared to read books.

This development puzzled Dames until one day during the fall 2022 semester, when a first-year student came to his office hours to share how challenging she had found the early assignments. Lit Hum often requires students to read a book, sometimes a very long and dense one, in just a week or two. But the student told Dames that, at her public high school, she had never been required to read an entire book. She had been assigned excerpts, poetry, and news articles, but not a single book cover to cover.

[...] Twenty years ago, Dames’s classes had no problem engaging in sophisticated discussions of Pride and Prejudice one week and Crime and Punishment the next. Now his students tell him up front that the reading load feels impossible. It’s not just the frenetic pace; they struggle to attend to small details while keeping track of the overall plot.

No comprehensive data exist on this trend, but the majority of the 33 professors I spoke with relayed similar experiences. Many had discussed the change at faculty meetings and in conversations with fellow instructors. [...] Daniel Shore, the chair of Georgetown’s English department, told me that his students have trouble staying focused on even a sonnet.

Failing to complete a 14-line poem without succumbing to distraction suggests one familiar explanation for the decline in reading aptitude: smartphones. Teenagers are constantly tempted by their devices, which inhibits their preparation for the rigors of college coursework—then they get to college, and the distractions keep flowing. “It’s changed expectations about what’s worthy of attention,” Daniel Willingham, a psychologist at UVA, told me. “Being bored has become unnatural.” Reading books, even for pleasure, can’t compete with TikTok, Instagram, YouTube. In 1976, about 40 percent of high-school seniors said they had read at least six books for fun in the previous year, compared with 11.5 percent who hadn’t read any. By 2022, those percentages had flipped.

[...] Mike Szkolka, a teacher and an administrator who has spent almost two decades in Boston and New York schools, told me that excerpts have replaced books across grade levels. “There’s no testing skill that can be related to … Can you sit down and read Tolstoy? ” he said. And if a skill is not easily measured, instructors and district leaders have little incentive to teach it. [...] The pandemic, which scrambled syllabi and moved coursework online, accelerated the shift away from teaching complete works.

[...] But it’s not clear that instructors can foster a love of reading by thinning out the syllabus. Some experts I spoke with attributed the decline of book reading to a shift in values rather than in skill sets. Students can still read books, they argue—they’re just choosing not to. Students today are far more concerned about their job prospects than they were in the past. Every year, they tell Howley that, despite enjoying what they learned in Lit Hum, they plan to instead get a degree in something more useful for their career.

[...] For years, Dames has asked his first-years about their favorite book. In the past, they cited books such as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre. Now, he says, almost half of them cite young-adult books. Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series seems to be a particular favorite.

[caramelkoo]

honeysuckle

boyfriend!jungkook, established relationship, smut

summary : according to your boyfriend, a little competition won't hurt anyone especially when the game is his favorite. Making you feel good.

warnings : mature, strong language, heavy on the smut, a little fluff thrown in there, fingering, pussy slapping, he asks for consent, they're freaky, dick piercing, ass slapping, hickeys, sex in a jacuzzi, reverse cowgirl, riding, jungkook wants oc so bad, dirty talk, he calls oc sweetheart, unprotected sex. if i missed something, do let me know.

a/n : hi my loves, here’s your promised smutty treat. tbvh that picture has not left my mind ever since i saw it lmao. I love you guys so so much. You're so loved and cherished. Please don't read this in front of your parents. also @rpwprpwprpwprw was the sweetest to ask for a tag <33 xoxo

"Oh yeah baby, just like that"

"You fuck me so good"

'Take my cock like a good slut you are"

Any other day, you're all about sex positivity and letting your body get what it wants but today of all days, your neighbors want to ruin the peace that you so desperately craved.

Your boyfriend, Jungkook had left early for a business meeting promising you to come back as soon as he gets done with it. As much as you missed him, you had felt the need to have some time for yourself. You thrive on being Jungkook's girlfriend, it's all butterfly in the stomach, princess treatment kind of love but you can't lie about wishing for some alone time just for yourself. Finally, you were getting it. You had it all planned bit by bit.

Step 1 : take an everything shower

Step 2 : cook something delicious for yourself while wave to earth plays in the background

Step 3 : read a romantasy novel you've been anticipating for a long time.

Step 4 : if sleepy, sleep. If not, take out your pink best friend from the bedside drawer and seek your pleasure listening to Jungkook's voice recording you had him record the other day. It always works.

Step 3 and you're already at the verge of giving up. It appears the people next door didn't exactly like your plan and they wanted to make you realize how lonely you are. Screaming at your face, "Haha guess who's not getting a dick". God forbid if a girl wants to have quite and peaceful night while romanticizing the shit out of it.

You slam the book on the bed and sigh. For a second you consider calling Jungkook but stop when you realize that you'll only be hindering his work. What are you even going to tell him? that you can't read because your neighbors have been fucking each other for hours now? No, that's just stupid.

Taking off your reading glasses you make your way to the kitchen. If you can't get sleep tonight, you might as well give them a tough fight. When and if they decide to let their horny asses take a break and decide to doze off, they'd catch on to the fact that there's someone next door whose mama didn't raise a quitter. Immature? you don't think so.

Once the woman's voice on the speaker alerts you that your phone has been connected, you start off with your favorite go to song when you need to cry your eyes out. "Fuck to an emotional song now" you think.

Coming in terms with the fact that you might have to pull an all nighter, you begin making coffee. The word itself brings a smile on your face. Coffee, which got you through your med school. Coffee, which got you Jungkook.

If you really think about it, hadn't you mustered up the courage to go on a solo date that day and have a coffee all by yourself you wouldn't have crossed your paths with him. It's funny actually because how many couples do actually last this long after meeting at a random coffee shop?

After dating douchebags for almost three years you had taken a break from dating all together. It was high time you focused on yourself. Honestly, it's not like they were the only one who was messed up in your previous relationships. You had some parts you had to heal as well and the moment you caught up on that, you went on a journey. Journey to self love, journey to find yourself and a journey which will leave you not perfect but healed.

As for the dimwits you dated in the past, sometimes it was "why do you always have to be like this? how much more space do you need?" or, "What do you mean you don't want to have sex right now? C'mon don't be a spoilsport".

Spoilsport, your ass.

Standing up on your tippy toes, your hands reach out for the coffee container but before you could even settle your foot down on the floor, two arms circle around your waist making you gasp in utter shock.

The need to defend yourself takes so strongly over you that you don't even turn around in order to check the person before your elbow connects with their nose.

When you finally do, you can't stop the scream from leaving your mouth. Your face all red and your eyes as big as saucers.

You panic, "JUNGKOOK?"

When you see blood oozing out of his left nostril after he lifts his face, you mentally curse your sister for forcing you to take self defense classes.

"What's with the song, sweetheart?"

"I told you you were gonna be my death someday but who knew it was gonna be tonight"

After cleaning up his nose and giving him a cup of coffee, you both were now sitting on the couch. You had turned off the music, though. God knew it was not making the situation any better.

You take a sip before speaking, "Oh, don't be dramatic. Who comes home like this and at this hour?"

"My flight was late, sweetheart. I wanted to get to you much sooner but destiny had plans--" he gets cut off as his eyebrows crease in wonder.

"What was that?"

"The neighbors. They have been going at it for hours now" you shake your head in disbelief.

"For hours? That's some stamina I must say" he breaks out in a fit of laughter as you place your cup on the table in front of you.

Turning towards him you ask, "You find this funny? I haven't been able to sleep because of them"

Your voice comes out a bit whiny and you wonder if you're acting a bit childish.

"Oh, sweetheart. How about this, I take a quick shower and we cuddle to sleep" a mixture of warmth and concern crossing his face.

Your smile is wide when you say, "I'd love that"

Jungkook finishes his coffee and pecks your lips as he saunters towards the bathroom. However, when he turns back and says the most unforeseen thing, your silly mind doesn't even think twice.

"Actually, _____. Why don't you join me?"

Bubbles form inside the jacuzzi as smoke fills your surroundings. The smell of warm water hits your nose making it feel tingly. Your stomach is doing summersaults as your boyfriend lets you down inside the water, heart skipping a beat.

Only when Jungkook lets himself sit on the other side of the tub, you can finally take a deep breath. His eyes never leaving yours. When you're with him, there's nothing you care about. Not your horny neighbors, not the world, nothing. It's just him and his presence that lights you up. A smile that could rival the sun.

Him.

Your fingers play with the water as you try to make a conversation. This moment right here, is peak level of intimacy for you. You're both naked, exposed and vulnerable yet you've never felt safer. Not to mention how you feel like a high school girl trying to talk to his crush.

When you were young, the bathroom was the only place you could run and cry in and no one judged you. The four walled room provided more comfort than people in your life. It holds memories but when you moved in with your boyfriend, you left those at your old house. To rot, because what else?

With him, every corner, every space in your house feels pure and blissful. It’s filled with laughter, moans and him.

Jungkook's legs are lightly brushing yours every now and then, the movement sending shivers down your spine. What's happening to you?

"So, how was the business trip?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how funny is it that you wanna talk about business while looking like that and all I wanna do is fuck that sweet mouth of yours because of how much I missed it?"

You shudder, the effect he has on you is beyond belief and now with the expression crossing his face, pure lust and longing, it's as though somebody has set your whole body on fire. A mix of hot and cold feeling running through your veins.

"Jungkook"

"Come here"

"Wh-"

He cuts you off, "Come here, sweetheart. Come to me before I lose my ever loving mind'

You don't have an option other than to scoot your way towards him. He positions your body between his legs, his taut and muscular chest touching your wet back.

Wetness pools between your legs as his hardness presses at your lower hip just above your ass. Your pussy throbs with need and you stop yourself from reaching down to relieve that tension.

His fingers ever so lightly graze over your arm, frequently making drawings on it.

"How long did you say they were going at it?"

You look at him, "About three hours. Why?"

He's up to something. You can feel it in your bones.

"Do you think they're still gonna be able to fuck each other after hearing your screams through the wall, sweetheart?"

Fuck. The idea of making them listen to you while your boyfriend fucks you into oblivion doesn't sound so bad. You missed him, you missed being in his arms and you missed him being inside you as well. So, where's the harm in that?

"You wanna give them a show? Let them know how well your man fucks you?"

The moan that leaves her as she lets her head fall back heavy on his chest tells him everything her words can't.

"Jungkook, please. It's been so long" she cries out.

She stirs making herself more comfortable but that just makes him hiss through his teeth as her ass grazes his cock, the metal on the tip leaving a cool sensation. He's not gonna give in easily though. He will make her earn that release.

His hands cup her tits, fully covering them and they fit so perfectly in his hands. Heavy, full, perfect. As if they're made just for him to suck, him to cup, him to cum on, him to leave purple love bites on.

"I know, sweetheart. Do you wanna know what I kept thinking about while I was away?" his voice trails off, "I kept thinking about how bad I wanna fuck your throat"

The sound that leaves her is filled with need.

"Jungkook, baby please."

He trails his hands down her chest and stomach before it reaches her pussy. Just around her clit. His finger are soft and light, not putting pressure when all she wants is for him to give her the release she so badly craves.

Jungkook's cock is already leaking with precum and his balls ache. He missed his girl so fucking much, so much that he lost count of how many times he had fucked his hand while thinking of her while he was away. When his colleagues saw his flushed face, he had no other option than to blame it on the cold weather.

His finger slide down and back up her slit, making her visibly shiver.

Shit. He's not gonna last long if she keeps making those noises.

"How many finger do you want, _____?" he asks as repeats the same motion.

His mouth comes on her in a searing kiss, it's possessive, passionate, burning and everything nasty. He's straight up claiming her mouth as her tongue tangles with his own.

Pulling back he waits for her response, "Two. Please"

Following her command, his two fingers slide inside her. He tightens the hold on her stomach to have her stay in place when she bucks her hips forward.

She screams.

"That's my girl"

He slides his finger out before sinking it deep inside her cunt again. Crooking them in such a way that he hits her g-spot. Desperate moans fill the room mixing with the steam coming out of the hot water. Her hands ghost over his, fastening his pace.

"You want it faster, sweetheart?"

"Yes, much faster. I wanna cum so bad"

Happy to give her what she wants, he begins rubbing at her clit while his other fingers work their way in and out her wet cunt.

"Oh my fucking god"

"That's right. Get what you want. Such a good girl for me"

He's an animal at this point as he tries to mark her his more than she already is. Jungkook has always been open about sex with his girlfriend, his needs, his wants, his desires and she'd done the same. You compliment each other perfectly. It's easier that way, not leaving any room for doubts.

She like dirty talk, he gives it to her.

When her hips lift forward matching his thrusts, he smirks. Biting her slender neck as she chases her orgasm.

"Aghh"

It finally happens, her hands grasp his even more tightly, other hand gripping the edge of the jacuzzi as she lets out a scream. Her breath fastens as sweat beads her forehead, Jungkook never stopping with his praises.

When she settles back down between his legs, he takes his finger out and sucks them clean. Brown eyes never leaving hers.

"Do you think they heard us, sweetheart?"

Her laughter brings smile to his face, "You're crazy"

"And you're mine" He pecks her cheek, letting his lips linger there for a bit. Basking in the feeling of her love's skin against his lips.

At the beginning of your relationship when you were just getting comfortable with intimacy, jungkook loved kissing her cheek. It was his way of showing her that she's adored by him. Then he realised that quite frankly, it's her. He likes kissing so much because it's her that he's kissing.

He holds her for a while before speaking up, "You wanna help me with a problem?"

He doesn't need to tell her twice but soon as her next words leave her mouth, he takes a double take.

"Sit on the edge and I'll suck you off" he hears her say as she kneels before him.

"Later" he grabs her by her shoulders as he positions her back between his legs. This time facing him.

Her legs wrap around his waist and his thick cock presses against her navel. He knows how badly she wanted to take him into her mouth and he could have let her do that only if he was strong enough to resist himself from sinking deep inside her.

"Now, I wanna fuck you. Raw and nice just like my girlfriend deserves" his voice comes out breathy.

"I love you"

"Me too, sweetheart. More than you know" he assures.

Knowing he can't take it anymore, he lifts her up and sits her body down on his cock. Slowly by slowly as she moans her way through it. ____'s head falls into the crook of his neck and his grip tightens on the curve of her waist. The ampallang piercing multiplies the pleasure tenfold as you both roll your eyes at the back of your head.

Jungkook got madly drunk the other day and came back with a dick piercing which resulted in her getting mad at him and him fucking her to show how good it gets with it.

Having said that, he presses a searing kiss on her lips and his breath knocks out of his chest in the process. It's almost like he's dreaming. The feel of her body on him, his cock deep inside ____, her arms caging him. It all feels surreal. At this point, the neighbors are long forgotten. It's you and him now.

He takes one of her sensitive buds in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Moving it in circular motions.

The next few seconds involve him spanking her ass as if he wants to leave marks, him guiding her up and down his cock as she bounces and giving her frequent kisses. Wet slapping noises fill the entire room as his balls ache with need.

"So good, baby. You feel so fucking good. Wrapped around me like this while I fuck you good, huh?" he slaps her pussy lightly.

Thrust Thrust Thrust

As she falls back again into his arms, crying loudly with utter pleasure, he tightens his hold on her body. Hugging her close as both of your heartbeats sync together.

"Thank you for letting me love you, sweetheart. Thank you for coming into my boring ass life and filling it with laughter. Fuck"

Your sweaty and now tired bodies are wrapped around each other as you both revel in the warmth of intimacy.

He lets out a grown followed by her whine and before he can say anything, you’re both cumming together, sighing and kissing as you come down your high.

A chaste kiss is pressed on her forehead, "So perfect, my girl"

"That was…" you bite your lip.

"Amazing, I know" he says as he mindlessly plays with her black locks.

his hands rub her back. "Sweetheart, I want one more from you"

"One more?"

"Yeah, this time I wanna see your beautiful back. Will you do it for me?"

He tries to ask her as gently as possible. Pride filling his chest when he sees her nod.

Guiding her up with the support of her knees he sits her down on his lap, his balls brushing against her clit as he sinks back inside her. A man can only take so much before he snaps. This was the moment for him. His girl's back glistens in the most beautiful way ever. Sweat droplets mixed with water dripping down her spine that he can’t help but kiss.

"Fuck baby, you look like a goddess right now." he halts,

"So warm"

Trailing his hands up the back of her neck he threads his fingers through her hair, gripping it lightly but also putting enough pressure just so she can feel a sweet pain.

His heart skips another beat when she starts moving forward and then backwards, teasing him. Her movements are painfully slow. He wants to ask ____ to move faster but at the same time, he also wants to make this special for her.

So, he waits and watches her back arch as he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

"Jungkook" she moans his name, holding on to his thigh as he pounds into her from the back. It’s even deeper now, his cock hitting places he’d never hit before. Jungkook mentally thanks himself for trying out this new position because he’d just about take any chance to feel more connected to ____.

Just when his stomach contracts and hardens, he asks, "____ I’m gonna need you to spread those ass wider. I’m very close"

When she hums in response he gently pushes her upper body so that it’s flat on his legs, immediately letting him see more of ____'s ass. Her asshole clearly visible to him. It’s such a vulnerable position that you’re both in. Her more than him.

He has to ask her, "Sweetheart, if you don’t feel comfortable we can always stop, alright? You just have to ask"

Her whiney voice reaches his ears, "I’m okay, baby. Just- Just fuck me"

So, he does. His hips thrust forward as he fucks her mercilessly, letting her have the pleasure. She moans, he moans, she cries out, he groans. It’s unbelievably perfect. His hands roam over her smooth back, her ass and even down to her pussy. Both bodies working in a graceful sync.

Suddenly, it’s like the earth comes to a stop. His hands grip his hair while the other one grips hers. His stomach hardens, balls tightening and the moment _____ clenches around his cock, he cums inside of her. Filling her up with hot, white liquid. She follows him soon enough.

"I fucking love this body of yours"

She straightens up and lets her wet body fall heavy on his chest seeking warmth and his arms around her. He’s more than happy to do so. His muscular arms bring her closer to his chest as he relaxes.

Before the next words leave his mouth, he has to make sure ____ is sound asleep.

"I can’t wait to ask you to marry me, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you in that white dress walking towards me like the angel you are"

He hopes she says yes, he hopes the ring brings the biggest smile on her face.

He hopes.

[nightingale-prompts]

Sparing Batboy

First | Previous | Next

"You need to sleep." Bruce put his hand on Dick's shoulder.

Dick ran a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were dark from lack of rest.

It had been two days. Two days without a sign of Danny. Not even a glimpse on a street camera or his phone or clothes going missing. He's just gone. Evaporating into thin air.

"I need to find him," Dick said resolutely.

Bruce shook his head and opened his mouth to protest.

"Don't say anything," Dick said through clenched teeth. "You don't get to say anything about what I'm doing. You have done the same thing."

"Dick this is not the time to-"

"I said shut up! If you want to be helpful then go back to looking for him. Otherwise, leave." Dick said before jumping to another rooftop.

Dick knew at the end of the day he knew very little about Danny. He never asked because he knew it clearly hurt him to talk about it. All he needed to know was that Danny needed him. From the moment he first saw that watery smile on that kids face on his face when he invited Danny to eat with him.

Bruce definitely knew by this point that Danny and Batboy were the same. Especially when he asked where his grandson was while they searched. He hadn't said anything else about it. Dick didn't care at this point. I wouldn't change anything.

Part of Dick hated it. He has spent so many years comparing himself to Bruce. Trying not to become him yet still stuck in his shadow. To not repeat his mistakes.

Dick had made his fair share of mistakes and had paid for each one. He had lost so many people either from his own actions or not acting at all.

But what can he do now?

He just wanted to find his son.

He just didn't want to hear what came next. Commissioner Gordon called in with a clue…no it was a message.

A pair of wings splayed to mimic the iconic bat signal on a rooftop. The bloodied wings were severed at the base of the bone.

There were very few villains in Gotham that would do something so violent, fewer that would show off their act so brazenly. This kind of of senseless violence just to anger Batman was the mark of none other than Joker.

Joker had gotten his hands on another member of Dick's family. Flashbacks of Jason and Tim filled his mind.

And something just snapped.

In another part of the city, a certain clown glared at the limp body of the teen.

He had hoped the kid would at least wake up after having his wings cut off but despite his body state he slept soundly. He even had goons try to beat the kid awake but while the blood stayed any injuries disappeared instantly. Metas were a pain in the ass.

In the realm of dreams, Danny was comforted in the arms of the Nocturne. He got to visit his sister and friends in their dreams.

Jazz squeezed the life out of him as she asked him every question she could. Danny tried his best to answer each of them.

"Relax Jazz, I'm fine. I just can't come back. You know how it is. A grand destiny and all that." Danny said.

"But you're still just a kid Danny. You have school and-and-" Jazz said frantically trying to find the words.

"And I'm still going. Clockwork and Nocturne are teaching me everything I need to know until I take the throne." Danny wasn't ready to tell her about his new life.

She didn't need to know that he had a new family. Not when she was what he had to leave behind despite how much it kills him. There wasn't a day he didn't miss her or think of her. Nothing could replace her.

Unaware of this Nocturne and Clockwork watched as Danny dreamed within a dream.

"We should just kill the clown," Nocturne said resolutely as he peered into the material realm.

"You swore not to interfere with the mortals anymore," Clockwork warned.

"I'm not like you, Kronos. I can't sit idly by and watch this happen. I actually care." Nocturne said leveling a glare at the time ghost, his eyes blazing.

"So you care for the boy now? I thought you said you couldn't stand children?" Clockwork smirked his eyebrow raised.

Nocturne huffed shifting the blanket he had laid on Danny to cover him properly.

"I am close to mortals. It is what I am. Children tend to have the most innocent dreams. They have nightmares they don't know how to handle. They are fitful sleepers and cry before they wake. They can't parse dreams from reality. So much care goes into forming their dreams but at the same time, I must scare them. To remind them they should be afraid of the dark. I just can't stand to make them cry and lose those sweet little dreams." Nocturne brushed his clawed hand against Clock's cheek. "I don't understand how you do it. You let them hurt. You know what will happen yet you do nothing."

"It is my purpose. I care but all actions have consequences. I can't weigh the lives of a few for all. I asked you to put the boy to sleep to spare him the pain, at least for now. Had I not, I fear his fate would be darker." Clockwork sighed leaning into Nox's hand.

"Then let's kill that man. I know you want to my love." Nocturne's smiled wickedly eager to return to the living world.

"That is not our role. No, there is another who will come soon." Clockwork said pushing his malicious lover away. "Besides if the boy wakes you know he will undoubtedly cause untold damage. You know how much he hates clowns as is. There will be no coming back from that."

"You say that like it's a bad thing. I would be very proud." Nocturne hummed in delight.

(Am I ever going to run out of bat pics/gifs? Let's hope not.)

(Also gay ghosts dads. You're welcome.)

[sixosix]

no one's ever had me, not like you

timeskip!hinata shoyo x reader

“Are you really sure that you’re swearing off of dating?”

You wonder how many times you’ll be asked that before you finally get pressured into mingling just to get them off your back. But Akane, bless her heart, looks genuinely concerned, like choosing to stay single was a cruel fate she wouldn’t wish for anyone to bear.

“It’s not a big deal,” you tell her. “Dating’s just not for me.”

You think back to all your previous relationships, and find that you have never been more sure of your decision.

“It just means you haven’t found the right one!” To your left, Yuki, who is alarmingly a lot of shots in, exclaims. She becomes violent when drunk. You would know, your arm is starting to turn red from her smacking when laughing.

You shrug uncomfortably. “I’m not looking for any right one.”

Akane and Yuki share a glance.

“Well, if you say so,” Akane cedes.

Then Yuki slams her hands on the table as she bolts upright, expression grave and voice low as she says, “We’re doing it, though, right?”

You laugh under your breath. Yuki looks a little ridiculous, drunk, and swaying on her feet even when standing still. Her grip on her glass wavers, and you quickly pluck it from her grasp, ignoring her protesting wail.

Akane brightens. “Yes! Of course we’re doing it!”

You instead hand Yuki a glass of water. “Doing what? Are you two up to no good again?”

“Yes!” Yuki exclaims at the same time Akane calmly clarifies, “Noya’s inviting close friends out for dinner tomorrow.” Which makes sense, because they were pretty much the same thing.

“Oh! Nishinoya’s back?”

“Just arrived today! He said he’s visiting for a while.” Akane fishes out her phone from her hand, then pulls out the class’s group chat that you could never bring yourself to check ever since it hit 999+ notifications. It displays a picture of Nishinoya holding up a peace sign, face serious, and next to a large airport sign.

You hum thoughtfully. “I guess if you guys are coming…”

“Let’s go!” Yuki pumps her fists in the air. Akane smiles and tells her to settle down. Akane drank twice as many shots than her.

“Who else is coming?” You ask. “I might pass if it’s the entire school.”

“Noya’s not that wild. I heard it’s just his volleyball team, Ryuunosuke, and us,” Akane says. “I heard they’re also celebrating because Noya’s treating his kouhai’s return from Brazil.”

“Brazil?” The other side of the world! “Yuu and his friends sure are adventurous,” you remark in amusement, sipping idly on your own drink. It’s milder than either of theirs since you were assigned as the designated driver.

“You’ve heard of the guy. Hinata Shoyo, I think it was.”

You inhale your drink and start heaving. Akane’s hands flutter all over you in panic while Yuki descends in deep thought.

Yuki snapped her fingers. “Oh, right! Wasn’t that the first year who had a big crush on you when we were in second year? Noya’s favorite kouhai, Shoyo.”

Hinata Shoyo.

The first time you met Hinata Shoyo was when Nishinoya decided to invite close friends to watch them play. It was an ordinary day, and they had just come back from the Interhigh preliminaries. Their coach agreed to let them take it slow and relax, so Noya used it as an opportunity to invite his friends (it was just you who was free) to watch (read: to show off).

Having nothing better to do during club hours, you agreed.

You were late, stuck with cleaning duty, and forced to catch up to Noya, who had first wheeled into the volleyball gymnasium. The door was shut. You took deep, deep breaths before sliding it open and nearly having your face flattened by a volleyball speeding towards you.

Well, of course, it was a volleyball gymnasium.

Luckily, you managed to swerve out of the way and prevent long-lasting damage to your face. But the shock was more brutal than the would-be impact. You gaped at the ball that rolled onto the grass miles away. Just how fast was that thing?

“Y/N!” Nishinoya’s voice rang throughout the stunned silence of the gym.

Your head whipped around just in time to see a little guy with a mop of orange hair bound over to you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry—-” He then looked up at you, now only inches away, and seemed to have run out of apologies. His face exploded in a bright shade of red, but his eyes looked like they were bluescreening.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s fine!” You wave your hand to dismiss his guilt. “I didn’t actually get hit. Well—almost. But I didn’t! That was amazingly fast!” You hoped the praise would snap him out of it, but he was still gaping at you like you’d grown two heads. Or maybe you had something on your face?

Nishinoya comes barreling over soon enough, brows furrowed. “Y/N! Are you okay? You could’ve died!”

You frowned. “Idiot. I’m not going to die from that.”

Your statement seemed to shatter the tension that froze everyone in place. The captain murmured for them to continue practicing as Noya fluttered all over you like a mother hen, insisting on an ice pack.

Tanaka materialized out of nowhere. “Y/N! It’s you!”

“Ryuu!” You exclaim in delight, returning his hug. “Ryuu, it’s nice to see you again!”

Nishinoya turned to the tiny redhead with a raised eyebrow. “You good, Shoyo?”

Shoyo finally flinched out of his daze, narrowly avoiding your curious eyes. “Y-Yes! I’m just—I’ll go get the ball!” he squeaked out, nearly tripping over his own feet on a flat surface.

Nishinoya snorted, sharp eyes following Shoyo. “I think he has a crush on you.”

Tanaka cackled. “No way! Is that why Hinata looks so constipated?”

Hinata Shoyo. You glanced back just in time to catch him fumbling with the volleyball, trembling like a frightened mouse. It’s cute.

Now, you can confidently state that Hinata Shoyo is no longer just cute. Five years later, July, in an unsuspecting get-together party hosted by Nishinoya, and Hinata Shoyo definitely isn’t the same as before.

“Everyone!” Nishinoya’s voice bellows out throughout the venue. For such a small guy, he has the voice of a booming speaker. “Everyone, quiet! Shoyo’s here!”

Choruses of Hinata! echo through everyone as the crowd dispersed and bounded over to where Nishinoya was. You hear a faint laugh and a “Thank you!” From here, you could tell that his voice had gotten deeper. Still light and high, but it was different from the squeakiness you remembered.

Ever since finding out that Hinata had been back from Brazil, it turns out that his grand debut in the Nationals was aired all over. He’s famous now, not just some kid in Karasuno’s Volleyball Club.

“Ooh,” Yuki giggles maniacally. She hasn’t drunk anything yet. “He’s here. Do you think he still has a crush on you?”

“I doubt it. It was probably because I was his senpai back then. Remember how you reacted to Daichi-san visiting our hall? Everyone in our class was swooning, especially the boys!”

“Something about volleyball players, I tell you,” Yuki says, her gaze drifting over to where Akane was giggling as she talked with them. “Hmm. Speaking of them, I think one of them is on his way here.”

“What?”

Yuki takes one last sip of her tequila shot and leaves without another word. You didn’t have to turn—didn’t even have to move. You can feel his presence the moment he is right behind you, like a burst of warmth hovering, but it’s gold and bright, so you’re not terrified

Hinata Shoyo sits beside you, asking for a drink. You can’t help but stare.

He turned to you, then seemed to do a double take. Hinata Shoyo—now built twice as big as he once was; no longer the cute, lanky, and short kouhai from your past; with neatly trimmed hair and a much deeper voice—stares at you in astonishment. Hinata Shoyo emits a wordless exclamation.

“Senpai!” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Hinata,” you laugh softly, fondly. “We’re not in high school anymore. I’m pretty sure we’re the same age. You can just call me Y/N.”

“Y-You—” He splutters, face tinged pink despite the untouched shot in front of him. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.” You smile, tilting your head and grinning wider at the way his eye catches on the curve of your neck. “So, how have you been?”

He forgets about the drink he just ordered, seemingly getting redder in the face as you inch closer. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed he was drunk. Hinata Shoyo grins sheepishly, blushing and looking beautiful under the dim lighting of the venue.

Swearing off of dating, hmm… 

You consider him—his bright eyes, his wide and ever-genuine smile, and his undivided attention on you. Does he still have a crush on you? Or was it just the surprise that had him so flustered? You throw your head back and gulp down a shot, ignoring the burn that slid down your throat. You suppose there was no harm in finding out.

[starmapz]

what you know - ch4: served || 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. smut. slow burn. anxiety. 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 ; 12k.

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

When Sukuna was in the sixth grade, he read A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket for a project. He doesn’t remember the plot, the characters, nor any details of real importance about the series, but he knows one thing for sure.

The title could describe how his day unfolded.

Nothing is particularly out of place throughout his morning. He wakes up to the sound of his alarm, blearily rubbing his eyes as he gets out of bed for an early morning workout. He throws his airpods in and turns on his workout playlist as he lifts weights and hops on his treadmill before taking a cold shower to rouse himself from the clutches of drowsiness.

He wakes up the kids, helping Yuji get ready while he multitasks making oatmeal for breakfast and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for their lunches, which he tosses into their Pokemon lunch bags alongside some snacks. Mornings like these are like clockwork for him, simple and predictable, just how he prefers. No surprises.

With the first snow of the season chilling the air, he bundles both kids up in winter gear and grabs his heavy coat before walking them to school. He sets his alarm for their pickup, allowing him just enough time to get to his final class of the day, albeit a little bit late. Nothing new about that, though. As long as he isn’t late for your presentation, that’s all that matters. It’s the one thing he’s keeping at the front of his mind so as not to disappoint you.

He’s not sure why it matters so much, but like an itch he can’t scratch, the thought won’t go away. Ever-present and the only thing at the forefront of his mind since he accepted the presentation on your behalf. He’s not foolish enough to think that there’s any world in which you want to present at all, even though he knows you wouldn’t say no to the extra credit, and he could use it too.

He blinks snow away from his lashes, letting it melt from the warmth of his cheeks as his gaze sticks to the ground before him. His fingers fumble with the metal lighter in his pocket as he walks. He’s had it for a long time, evidence of how worn it is carved into the steel, but he’d sooner pull it apart and put it back together himself than get rid of it if it failed.

As he reaches the campus with time to spare, he spots one of your friends outside the building to his next class. He recognizes the blonde immediately, the one you sit next to at lunch, though he doesn’t recall his name. He knows they share an Accounting class, though him and Sukuna have never interacted beyond brief glances.

Keeping his distance from the blonde, Sukuna pulls out a cigarette as his thoughts are once again back on you, and all he can do is pray the nicotine dulls the feeling of his heart palpitating just at the thought of you like some pathetic teenager. The smoke billows and wisps in the air, more evident than usual in the cold, and he relishes in its brief reprieve from his thoughts.

It’s lust.

It’s nothing more than a reminder that he needs to find an excuse for his neighbour to watch his brothers so he can attend one of Gojo’s shitty frat parties and get laid.

With a glance at his watch, he stubs out his cigarette and trudges past the blonde without a glance. He makes his way to his usual seat isolated from the rest of the students in the corner closest to the door in case he needs to leave. Flipping his laptop open, he waits for the old computer to boot up so he can put together a semblance of an outline to work off of for the presentation at the end of the day.

It’s then that his misfortune begins.

His eyes flicker down to a notification in his email inbox and he sighs at the sight of the contact, his boss at the warehouse looking for him to fill a shift. Right now. He could accept the shift, miss European History, get off in time to pick up his brothers, bring them home, shower, and make it to Art History albeit a few minutes later than he’d intended. That wouldn’t be a big deal, you wouldn’t present at the beginning of class. It would also give him enough money to begin looking at Christmas gifts for the brats, which is an appealing idea…

He accepts the shift, and slips out towards the end of class. The shift isn’t unlike any other, nothing that would make anyone think this day is worse than any other. Sure, he stepped in a deep pile of snow on his way back from his shift and his ankle damn near froze and his socks are wet, but he’ll live. Not the end of the world.

He clocks out and picks up his brothers without a hitch, getting back with enough time to quickly shower the remnants of his shift from his skin and toss on a black hoodie with a Deftones logo across the front, and a pair of black jeans that were strewn over the back of his desk chair. His neighbor would be over any minute and he could head to class, only a few minutes late. An exhausting start to his day, but not bad.

A knock at the door sounds, and Sukuna’s brow furrows. Since when does his neighbor knock? He gave her a key for a reason.

“Choso! Grab that!” He calls as he throws his laptop and textbooks into his backpack, sure the sitter just forgot her keys despite being literally across the hall.

With a sigh, Sukuna casts a glance back at his room to see if he’s forgotten anything, when Choso peeks his head through a crack in the door. “Kuna? Someone’s asking for you.”

The tattooed man’s brow furrows further as he throws his backpack over one shoulder and follows after his little brother, who had shut the door on the person upon realizing it wasn’t their neighbor. The little boy stands a small ways back as Sukuna opens the door.

A man dressed in a long, deep gray peacoat with neatly styled hair stands at the door. Something akin to shock flickers in the man’s gaze at the sight of Sukuna, but it hardens as he addresses him.

“I’m looking for Ryomen Sukuna.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, his posture straightening. “What do you want?”

“Can you confirm you’re Ryomen Sukuna?” The man doubles down, keeping his expression indifferent.

With a scowl, Sukuna nods. “Yeah, I’m Sukuna. What do you want?” There’s more bite this time as Sukuna repeats his question.

“Excellent. I am here to serve you with legal documents. Please ensure that you attend your court hearing on March 23rd. By accepting these documents, you have been officially notified. Should you decline them, I am still obligated to make a note of this interaction.”

“The fuck?” Sukuna snatches the manilla envelope from the man’s hands, ripping it open and pulling the documents out. His eyes scan the words on the document, widening in disbelief. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

–

If Sukuna were a better man, he would have put your presentation in his calendar. He would have made an alarm. He would have sent you an email. Anything to let you know he was occupied. If he was a better man, he wouldn’t have torn his court documents in two. The ripped paper is hardly any concern when the handle on his door fell to the ground with a clank with the force he used to shut the door. At least one of those could be fixed with tape.

If Sukuna was a better man, he would have noticed his mistake before it got dark out.

With his head in his hands, he stares out the window by the table at the back of his apartment, brimming with anger when it all comes back to him.

The fucking presentation.

He wants to tell himself that he shouldn’t care, that you’re just a nuisance that wormed your way into his life and his mind. He wants to tell himself that you don’t matter and that he should forget about you like he had tried to last week, and accept that like everyone else in his life, he let you down.

But when he envisions your genuinely nervous expression at the thought of presenting even with him, his blood runs cold at the thought of you presenting without him.

He balls his hand into a fist, trembling from the sheer force of strength he puts into flexing his muscles.

“Fuck!” He hisses, slamming his palm down onto the table as he pushes himself up, sending ripped paper tumbling to the floor. His chair scrapes loudly across the scuffed hardwood of the dining space as he rushes to the door, pausing for only a moment at the sight of the handle he’d barely managed to screw loosely back into place. His jaw tightens as he grabs his keys and coat, tugging the door open a bit too hard as he hears the handle fall to the ground with a metallic thud inside the apartment.

As if he wasn’t already frustrated enough, this only serves to piss him off further. He considers himself lucky (if it can even be called that at this point) that his neighbor is still willing to watch his brothers (with a warning about the door handle) after the irritated dismissal he’d thrown her way earlier, but he’ll fix that bridge later.

There’s a more important one on his mind right now.

He’s not sure why he runs to campus first. Of course you won’t be there. Of course the professor won’t be in class, with the lecture hall closed and locked.

He tries the door again, as though a second tug at the handle might turn back time to three hours ago when he should have been here, but it’s nothing but wishful thinking. With his hand still on the unmoving handle, he slams his head against the door.

“Fuck!” With his brothers no longer around to hear, the curse escapes him in a furious roar. Whatever anger had been simmering at the surface for hours now bubbles over and explodes. In a flurry of frustration and pent up emotions, he reaches into his pocket and tosses the first thing that hits his fingers.

His lighter collides with the wall with a dull thud, falling in two pieces to the ground across the hall as a small dent is left in its wake in the drywall.

Sukuna’s hands rake through his hair, his teeth gritted as he inhales sharply, grappling with the weight of his emotions. He stumbles back until his back collides with the wall behind him, sliding down it with his head in his hands. He’s not sure how long he sits there before the sound of the cold wind whipping at the door outside brings him back to the present.

Running a hand over his face again, he grits his teeth as he stares across the hall at the lighter on the floor and frowns. Pushing himself to his feet, he crouches in front of it as he gathers the lid, hinge, and body, smoothing his thumb over the engraved name of his father on the steel.

Looks like he’ll be learning to fix a lighter sooner than he thought. Shoving it back into his pocket, he pulls his hood up over his head and makes his way back out into the cold. It’s well into the evening now, the cold snowflakes a sharp contrast to his warm skin as the night temperature falls well below that of the early morning.

His gaze rakes the empty Friday night campus. Distant laughter outside one of the bars on campus is all that disrupts the drone of wind and distant cars. You’re gonna be pissed. You have every right to be pissed, and he knows it, but for some god forsaken reason that Sukuna can’t make sense of, he can’t leave this be. He doesn’t want the image of your fearful expression as you present alone to be the only thing that comes to mind when he thinks of you.

Would it be stupid of him to show up at your door? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what the protocol is for shit like this because this doesn’t happen to people like him. Sukuna’s only long-lasting friendship is with Uraume, who knows him well enough to know not to hold his fuck-ups against him. It’s a miracle they’re still friends, if he’s honest with himself. Of course, he has other people he hangs around with here and there, but no one close enough to bother himself with matters like this.

Fiddling with the broken lighter in his pocket, he sets off towards your place, bussing to the nearest stop as he makes his way there from memory. He buzzes your apartment, staring at the ground as the machine rings several times, before it eventually hangs up.

No.

He hits the button for your apartment once more, but you still don’t answer. You’re not home.

“Fuck,” he mutters, the remnants of his anger fizzling out into concern and something that twists in his gut- dread. The day has worn him down so much he has half a mind to wait for you to come home and try to talk to you, but with his mind and body as drained as he is, he doesn’t think he’ll make it home if he doesn’t leave now. That’s not even taking the cold into consideration.

Trudging back to the bus stop, he slides down against the bench and stares up at the sky. The stars are barely visible, but a few still shine brightly enough to be seen over the glow of the city lights. Like everyone else, he took Astronomy as an elective just for the credits, and he remembers that the stars that don’t flicker are planets. He wonders if the one he’s staring at is Jupiter, or maybe Venus.

He wonders if you like looking at the stars.

Sukuna leans forward with his head in his hands. He’s fucked, he’s so fucked. How many ‘unfortunate events’ do those kids go through in that stupid book? How many more can he take?

He swallows hard, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and balancing it between his lips, reaching in again for his lighter. Although the cap isn’t attached, he hopes it still turns. To his relief, it produces a flame and he sets the broken cap over it to put it out, replacing the pieces into his pocket as he waits for the bus. The nicotine does very little to help dull the edge of his stress.

The ride home is quiet, save for the rumbling of the bus’ engine and the tapping of someone’s foot at the front of the vehicle. It’s not long before Sukuna’s back in his apartment with a screwdriver in-hand as he holds the doorknob back in place while screwing it back in. Its hold on the wooden frame is loose at best given just how badly he’d jostled it earlier and Sukuna has to turn to super glue to keep it in place.

Putting the kids to bed is a mechanical and empty action, one that he tries with every fiber of his being to hide from them. They’re smart kids, he knows they’ve already figured out something is up, but Sukuna needs to keep up appearances and make it seem as though nothing is wrong.

With the kids in bed, he sits at his desk with his laptop, his fingers hovering over your email thread. ‘sorry’, he types out, before hitting backspace. ‘howd the presentation go?’, he then types out, but that’s just about the worst thing he thinks he could send. ‘can we talk?’ he tries next, staring at the screen. He rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before typing and hitting send before he can overthink his words.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 10:02 PM hey. let me know if you get this. i owe you.

Shutting his laptop, he leans over his desk, his chin propped up on his forearms.

His mind is plagued with thoughts that make it feel as though a dagger is being plunged straight into his chest, each one twisting and dragging it through his body. He wants to fight back, he wants to fight back so violently that he draws blood, but there’s no one on the receiving end of his anger but the world itself.

He grits his teeth, exerting enough strength that he knows his jaw will be sore tomorrow. Every muscle in his body already aches, why not add another one? With a sigh, he finds it in him to sit back up, staring helplessly at the ceiling.

When Sukuna was in second grade, he read Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. He doesn’t remember what that one was about either, but that one could be the title for his day as well.

–

You blink up at the ceiling the Saturday following your shitty presentation, emotionally drained. Though Nanami had proposed to take you for breakfast… or lunch or dinner, he had allowed you to decline this time, unlike on Friday. You’re no less thankful for him being there for you, but all you really want to do is take some time for yourself.

Pushing yourself out of bed to make tea, you stare out at the snowscape outside your window, glad you’re staying inside as you’re able to bundle yourself up in blankets. You pick up your laptop, setting it on your lap in front of you as you browse movies, looking for something that appeals to you.

Your email inbox number rises as you peruse streaming services, though you don’t bother to look at it. You’re not awaiting any emails. That is, until it’s rising steadily as you’re watching it.

You know who’s blowing up your inbox. It’s not the latest deals from the ramen store down the street, or Netflix requesting to change your password.

It’s the one person you don’t want to talk to.

Your mouse hovers over the ‘x’, your finger not even an inch away from clicking. Yet some sort of bitter curiosity gets the better of you as you click on your inbox.

Seven emails, huh?

You sigh as you stare at the emails. He’s replying to the thread of your last exchanges, so you can’t see a preview of what he’s written.

“Is it so wrong of me to be disappointed?” You remember asking Nanami last night, stirring the straw in your milkshake mindlessly.

He sits up in his seat. “He made you a promise, no? You have every right to be upset.”

You glance up at him. His sharp mahogany eyes are unreadable, but you can sense his sympathy for you through his actions.

You’re silent, absorbing his words as you return to mindlessly stirring your milkshake. The chatter around you is dull in comparison to the loud thoughts of inadequacy digging their filthy claws into your mind.

“I made a fool of myself.”

“No one will remember by Monday,” Nanami tries to reassure you, but it falls on deaf ears.

“I think I said that to myself after Prom.”

Nanami’s lips press together in a tight-lipped frown. “We were kids, back then. All of us, all of them. Things will be different this time around.”

“Do you believe that, or are you just saying that to reassure me?” You ask with a dry laugh, a nervous reaction to his sympathy.

Kento frowns, leaning forward. “I believe it with my entire being,” he replies firmly, ending his statement with your name. You glance up at him again, observing the way his jaw tenses when he sees your puffy cheeks and reddened eyes. “Don’t let this keep you from being you.”

You stare back down at the strawberry milkshake. It’s melting so steadily it’s hardly a shake anymore, it’s closer to strawberry milk.

“You know what the worst part of this whole thing is?”

“What’s that?”

“Well-” you laugh bitterly, “- I can't decide what's worse; That I’m actually still worried about him for some reason or that I ever believed him to begin with.”

Nanami’s gaze flickers away from you as he leans forwards over the table. He contemplates his words carefully, mindful of your obvious feelings for the burly man. “You don't deserve to contemplate that over someone.”

“What am I supposed to contemplate, then?” You chuckle wryly, finally taking a sip of your milkshake. It’s definitely just strawberry milk now. At least it’s not lukewarm yet.

“Did you see the latest episode of ‘Love is Blind’?”

You set your milkshake down with a clink. “Did you?”

“Well… No, but I heard Shoko and Haibara speaking about it at lunch.”

You crack a smile. It’s half-hearted and doesn't reach your eyes, but he senses your amusement anyways and returns your smile.

Now, staring at your unopened emails from Sukuna, Nanami’s words continue to echo in your mind.

“You don't deserve to contemplate that over someone.”

So why are you struggling to return to Netflix? You should just watch a movie and forget about him. If his words meant anything, he would have shown up when you needed him. He wouldn’t have made promises he couldn’t keep.

Sighing, you will yourself to click away and keep your mind off of him as you peruse movies on Netflix. Mindlessly scrolling through each category, it’s by the third one that it occurs to you that you haven’t actually been paying attention to your options, your thoughts occupied by the one man you’re trying to avoid.

After showing you his words mean nothing, why are you still so stuck to him like glue? Staring into your mug of tea, you frown when the answers to your problems aren’t swirling within the warm drink.

Against your better judgment, you take a sip of your tea and click on his emails.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Friday, 10:02 PM hey. let me know if you get this. i owe you.

Frustration stirs within you. He knew damn well that you would be upset with him for not showing up and the best he can do is an ‘I owe you’?

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:23 AM cmon just let me know youre seeing this

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:28 AM fuck, i know i

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:29 AM shit. hit send too early. i know i fucked up but give me a chance to explain

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 7:33 AM please.

The sight of his plea staring back at you feels like a mockery. Burying your face in your hands, you groan loudly to yourself, as though it might help you make sense of your emotions. Sukuna doesn’t plead with people, he’s made that much clear. Everything with him happens on his terms and is purely transactional, so what’s changed to have him suddenly begging for your attention without asking for anything in return?

Some delusional part of you wants to believe that whatever he wants from you is more than just free babysitting services but he’s given you no reason to believe otherwise.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Saturday, 8:41 AM ill make it up to you. idk how but fuck

You know he’s serious when his email ends with your name. Not Prom Queen, not some nickname that borderlines on flirty, but your given name.

Your mouse hovers over the reply button, thoughts racing through your mind. What if there was an emergency? What if he needs help? What if the boys are in trouble?

No, if something was wrong he wouldn’t be rambling over email. Nothing is wrong, Sukuna is just an asshole, and maybe you need to remind yourself of that. Maybe you’re too kind, maybe you give others the benefit of the doubt too often when they don’t deserve it. Maybe the rumors about Sukuna were always true. Maybe Gojo is right about him.

With frustration fueling your movements, you close the emails and shut the tab. He doesn’t deserve your time and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin your weekend with his incessant messages.

Returning to Netflix, you finally settle on a romantic comedy you’ve been meaning to watch and get back to your (somewhat cold) tea.

–

After a relaxing Saturday spent by yourself and a rejuvenating Sunday spent alongside Shoko, who convinced you (again) to forget about Sukuna, you feel miles better than you did on Friday.

Shoko was ready to put up a fight with your former project partner when you told her what had happened. Now that classes had ended for the semester and you only found yourself on campus to make use of the library, the extra free time only fueled her fire. Nanami, usually cool and composed, was no better when the two of you joined him in the library.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, shooting a glance at Shoko who he’s certain had heard about what went down.

“I’m okay. Thanks, Nanamin,” you shoot him a smile. Though you do seem more at ease than Friday, it’s clear that your anxiety and frustration runs deeper than simply being disappointed. You’re heartbroken. Shoko and Kento would have to be fools not to see the heart eyes you’d had for the History major.

“If you need anything from me, please feel free to ask,” he offers.

“Anything at all,” Shoko tacks on to his statement.

A smile pulls at your lips, even as you find yourself sighing. “Can both of you stop trying to fight him? I’m okay now, really.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that I would fight him-” Nanami begins, interrupted by Shoko.

“I was.”

You can’t help a laugh at her confidence and the grimace that Nanami dons at the sound of said confidence. Regardless, you’re thankful for their support, even if Shoko’s just a bit too eager to teach Sukuna a lesson.

You all fall into easy silence as you study individual subjects, simply enjoying being in the presence of your friends. The morning is quiet and still in the library outside of the sounds of pencils and pens scratching over paper and textbook pages turning. Only a few other students made their way to campus on the first official day of break aside from you, Kento, and Shoko.

Your focus wanes quickly as you find your thoughts wandering, something that’s been commonplace when you find yourself stuck in your own head. Your thoughts roam back to Sukuna’s emails, to his mention of wanting to explain what happened. Had something happened?

You shake your head, trying to remind yourself he’s not worth your time of day and you have no reason to trust his words.

The morning drags on as you struggle to focus on your studies and the moment the clock strikes noon, you’re immediately packing up and dragging your friends to the lunch hall, desperate for the reprieve from your hopeless thoughts.

“I think I’m fucked for my Bio exam,” Shoko sighs as you take a seat at your usual table in the empty hall.

“Perhaps if you had spent more time in your lectures and less time smoking outside my Accounting class, you wouldn’t feel that way,” Kento bites back, earning a laugh from you. He may be aloof and calm, but sometimes you forget just how sassy the blonde can be when he wants to be.

“Shit, that was your Accounting class?”

“Mhm.”

“Motherfucker,” Shoko mutters under her breath, looking off to the side when something catches her eye and she sits up straight suddenly. Both you and Kento take notice of her weird behaviour and go to follow her line of sight, turning your gaze over your shoulder until you’re eye to eye with none other than the cause of all your problems.

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls unevenly, as though he ran to the lunch hall in an effort to find you, his usual aloof expression long gone and replaced with something you’ve never seen on him before- regret. He’s in a black winter coat, his hands fiddling with something in his pocket as he stands there as though he’s debating what he wants to do.

Your heart clenches, your chest feeling heavy all of a sudden. All you can do is freeze, staring uncertainly at him as your body flips between a morbid curiosity to know what happened and the sparks of anger that you feel for him putting you through something you made clear you didn’t want to do.

Finally making up his mind, he crosses the lunch hall to you, only to be met with Nanami taking a stand in front of you. Kento is a tall man, though you would never know when he stands between you and Sukuna. Even with the horribly obvious disadvantage between them, there’s something heartwarming about Kento putting himself between you.

Sukuna’s gaze hardens, his jaw tightening at the sight of Kento. He opens his mouth to say something, but Shoko speaks up first.

“Leave, Sukuna.”

Your lips purse as you glance between Shoko and Kento. It’s sweet, really, of them to try to spare your feelings and fend for you, but you can do it yourself.

“Ken, Sho. I can handle this.” Your smile does little to convince either of them, but with a frown, Nanami sits down. With a resounding sigh, you’re able to finally get a good look at Sukuna.

You’re used to him looking tired, you’re more than used to him looking downright exhausted, but the expression he wears now isn’t exhaustion. His muscles are tense, eyes flickering between your friends before they land on you and it’s only then that his distress becomes apparent. He’s doing what he can to hide it, but his facade of indifference is already cracked, falling apart at the seams.

Your heart twists at the sight as you wrestle with your anger and concern, deciding finally to put yourself first for once. Something Sukuna is clearly incapable of.

“I don’t want to see you, Sukuna.” Your voice is firm and even, and you’re grateful you’re able to keep up the hardened shell you’ve built up over the weekend. He doesn’t deserve your tears or your anxiety.

“I know. You can tell me to fuck off and I’ll listen, but first you gotta give me a chance to explain,” his voice is raspy, evidence of some sort of strain, and you wonder whether he’s been crying or yelling, or maybe he’s been smoking more than usual. Conceivably all three.

You grimace, staring at the wall as you contemplate his words. “You promise you’ll leave me alone after?”

“Anything.”

He’s so quick to respond that it tugs at your heart strings. Why is everything about this interaction so unfamiliar? Where’s the Sukuna you know? Even as he had begun to open up over the last month, you’d never seen him like this. His hand is still fidgeting with something in his pocket, the faint sounds of metal scraping ringing out from his pocket, he keeps shooting glances back at your friends, and his usual air of confidence has fizzled out to nothing.

Then there’s his appearance. His hair is disheveled, pushed back and sticking out on all sides as though he’s been running his hand non-stop through it. His face is gaunt from a lack of sleep based on the dark circles under his eyes and his jaw has been clenched since the moment he arrived. In fact, that might be the only part of this encounter that is familiar, he looks about as angry as usual.

“Fine,” you sigh after a moment, observing the way he exhales in relief.

“Come with me?” He asks, nodding his head towards the door.

Kento and Shoko exchange an uncertain glance as you turn back towards the table and grab your coat and pack your backpack again.

“Call us if you need anything,” Kento speaks up, loud enough for Sukuna to hear as the two men throw scowls at one another. Sukuna knows he’s in the wrong, but he still doesn’t care for this protective behaviour Ken, as you called him, is throwing his way. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.

“Thanks, Kento,” you whisper with a dry attempt at a smile.

With one final challenging stare at the blonde, Sukuna turns to lead the way as you pull your coat on and follow him out into the cold. The snow has been piling up over the weekend, crunching beneath your feet and allowing the cold to seep into you, chilling you straight to your bones. You zip your jacket up further, wrapping your arms around yourself as you follow after Sukuna.

He glances back at you, at the way you’re obviously cold and struggling to keep in step with him given the height of the snow banks he’s trudging through. He diverts his path until you’re both in a spot that’s been cleared and you’re able to steadily keep pace with him, although you still keep a small distance back.

The air between you is heavy with unspoken words, and Sukuna knows he’ll deserve everything you throw his way, though it doesn’t make him anymore eager to get to his destination and keep his mouth shut.

“Where are we going?” Your voice is meek, and those sharp crimson irises observe you quietly from ahead for a moment before he replies.

“For lunch.”

“Oh, I actually brought my own lun-” Your words die in your throat at the sight of his brow twitching as he stares back at you. “Okay.”

You just need to grin and bear it through the next twenty or so minutes, and then you can ask him never to bother you again.

Keeping your eyes on the snow as it kicks up with each step, you’re silent for the remainder of your walk. You keep yourself a few feet back at all times, only catching up once he finally reaches his destination and holds the door as he waits for you to catch up. You pause at the entrance of the building, finding a cafe sign hung above the door.

With a nearly inaudible ‘thanks’, you slip past Sukuna into the building. You both pull your hoods down as you take a look around the cafe. Although it’s only a few blocks from the college, you’ve never been inside.

The interior is decorated in warm orange hues with deep wooden floors and plants lining the walls. There’s shelves from floor to ceiling filled with loaves of bread and a display at the front filled with pastries. Two menus hang above the back of the counter with sandwiches, soups, and salads, alongside cozy looking drink options. You make your way up to the counter slowly, followed closely by Sukuna.

“Get whatever you want,” he grumbles in a tone that would make anyone else think he’s frustrated with you, but it lacks the usual growl that would give that indication.

“Hm? Are you sure?” You ask uncertainly, knowing his financial situation all too well.

He nods. Luckily for Sukuna, he took an extra shift and he thanks whatever god will listen that he did and he can afford to buy you lunch. He owes you more than just food, but it’s a start and he hopes he can convince you to give him a chance to prove himself.

He brings a hand up to scratch his chin, the first signs of stubble poking through his skin and faintly visible around his jaw. It’s a good look on him although he clearly just hasn’t had time or bothered to shave.

“What’s good here?” You query, doing whatever you can to ease the discomfort between you, even though you want to tear into him for what he did.

“Ya haven’t been here?” He quirks a brow questioningly. You’re so close to the college he assumed you would have been. “I like the chicken and beef barley soups. The deli sandwich is good too,” he shrugs.

After a moment, you settle on a small soup and a grilled cheese, letting your attention wander to the plants as you wait for the food while Sukuna pays. Neither of you dare to interrupt the tense understanding keeping both of you from saying something you may regret, allowing the silence to suffocate you.

Even once your lunch is ready and the two of you find a quiet seat in the back corner of the cafe, it does nothing to ease the growing anger threatening to boil over as this frustrating man can’t even so much as apologize.

“How’s your food?”

You drop your spoon into the bowl. It clatters against the edge with a sound that startles the poor employee behind the counter, but your attention is stuck on the man in front of you. The stupid man who can’t bother to start with the one thing you truly want from him.

“You know I’m not happy with you, right?”

His gaze flickers between the spoon and your eyes, which are filled with a blazing fire he’s never seen from you before. He sighs, setting his own spoon down as he sits up. “Figured as much when you didn’t email me.”

“Oh, not emailing you back was what tipped you off that I might be upset? Not-”

“I know, I know.” He’s strangely somber as he accepts the way you’re tearing into him. “I didn’t mean to miss the presentation.” He hunches forward over the table on his forearms, his shoulders tense. There’s no subtle cocky bravado behind his demeanor as there usually is, he’s simply… here, listening intently.

Shaking your head, you chew on your lip as you do what you can to subdue your anger. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to miss our other meetings too, but you really had me thinking this time was different.”

“C’mon, those other times weren’t a big deal,” he gruffs, his forearms visibly bulging as he flexes the muscles. He’s doing his best to keep his frustration at bay.

“No, they weren’t. But this time, you signed me up for public speaking. I told you I didn’t want to do it. I even trusted you with my insecurities, and I thought because of that, this time would be different.” You swallow hard, shaking your head as you fight back tears. “But your word doesn’t mean anything, does it?”

“That’s-” His hand balls into a fist as he growls out the beginning of a sentence, but the sharp look you give him has him re-thinking his words. His hand relaxes, his fingers tapping on the table as he diverts his attention to a plant on the wall. “That’s not fair,” he manages, strained.

“How is that not fair? You told me you would handle it and you knew how I felt about presenting. How is that fair to me?” Your voice is low, somewhere between a whisper and a yell as you try to keep your voice down and more importantly even despite the tears pricking at your eyes.

Sukuna adjusts the way he’s sitting, his hunger subsiding at the sight of your growing frustration with him. “It’s… not fair to you.” All he can do is agree, because he knows he deserves this.

“So why couldn’t you grow a pair and at least warn me you wouldn’t be there? I could have prepared something at least!” You make a motion in the air with your hand in disbelief as your rage grows.

Sukuna’s jaw tightens as memories of why he missed the presentation flood his mind and god how he wants to walk out right now and not worry about you or your feelings, or hurting you, but that would be too simple for Sukuna’s life. No, whatever force of nature Sukuna had angered wanted him to suffer, wanted him to sit here and listen to your agony, pinned to the seat by his reverence for you.

He drags his hands over his face, shaking his head like a dog in an effort to come to his senses and come up with something to say.

His silence is somehow worse than his usual devil-may-care attitude. At least you know how to handle his arrogance and anger. His silence only serves to further the insult of his behavior. “You really have nothing to say about all of this?”

Sukuna has a million things to say, but his thoughts are so disorganized he doesn’t know how to make sense of what he wants to say. What needs to be said. He should have taken more time to come to terms with the gravity of the situation he’d gotten himself into, but he couldn’t bear the idea that you would be living with the thought that Sukuna had abandoned you. Yet he’s here now, with you, to disprove that and he doesn’t know what he can do to fix things with you. One misstep and he digs a deeper grave than the one he’s sitting in already.

That’s the thing about you. You’re the sun, able to brighten any room you walk into with so much as a smile, and Sukuna isn’t even the moon by comparison. He’s a distant star, flickering on the horizon but always outshone by those brighter. Even knowing this, he so selfishly doesn’t want to let you go. He hardly understands it himself, but he finds himself smiling more around you and that alone is worth the effort on his part.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out a pathetic excuse for an apology, one that he knows won’t put out the fires he’s started, but it’s the best he can manage in his disheveled state.

You shut your eyes, letting out a long, dragging sigh. When you open them, you’re staring down at your reflection in your soup bowl, distorted by floating noodles. It’s a genuine apology, a rarity when it comes to him, but he’s lost your trust and good will. Of course there’s a part of you that wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he’s not giving you any reason to believe his words, let alone a reason to leave you sputtering over words at the front of your class last week.

Kento’s right. You don’t deserve to be constantly guessing, even if it tugs at your already fragile heart. Why did it have to be him that your heart decided to fixate on?

“I don’t know how I expected this to go, but I guess I should have known this would happen,” you mumble, getting to your feet and grabbing your coat. You need to leave now before you second-guess yourself.

“Wait-! Fuck…” Sukuna’s on his feet in an instant, unable to look you in the eye as he reaches for your wrist, staring at the point where your skin connects like it’s burning him.

“Shit, just…” He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Gimme a moment.” He doesn’t dare let you go out of fear you’ll leave, his other hand dipping into his pocket as he fiddles with his broken lighter again.

It takes him a moment to gather himself but finally he finds his footing.

“Look, I owe you. I know I fuckin’ owe you, okay? It was a piece of shit move.” He finally meets your gaze, his resolve hardening. “I shoulda been there, I- I got caught up with something. I didn’t mean to miss it and I-” he hesitates, “- I’m beggin’ you to trust me.”

“Why should I trust you? You’ve never given me any reason to. This is just a shitty excuse to use me as a free babysitter again,” you shrug, trying to use reason so as not to fall for the excuses he’s sputtering that your heart so desperately wants to cling to.

His face contorts in disbelief. “Why the fuck would I care about that?”

“If that’s not what this is about, then what is it about? Because if you cared about me at all, you would have been there.”

“Fuck- No- That’s not-” He huffs, his anger threatening to boil over. Running his spare hand through his hair, he grumbles another curse under his breath. “Prom Queen-”

“Don’t call me that.” He knows that’s the cause of your humiliation in the first place, to bring it up right now is downright cruel.

“- Somethin’ happened- with the kids. I didn’t forget. I wanted to be there, I swear on my life that something came up.”

You pause, contemplating his words as he finally gives you some semblance of a reason for his absence, and it’s the exact reason you’d expressed to Kento that had you still worried over the man’s dumb ass. An emergency, a reason to be worried about him, even if he didn’t deserve that kindness from you.

“What happened?” You ask cautiously, sitting back down. Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief and releases your wrist when you sit back down with him.

“It’s nothin’ I can’t handle, but I need you to believe me. I don’t care that you were babysitting the brats. And that wasn’t free anyway.”

It was, but you’ll let that slide.

Your brow furrows. “What is this about then? Since when do you care about anyone other than your brothers or yourself?”

“Christ, I’m not heartless,” he mutters, shutting his mouth when you shoot him a glare. Yeah, he deserves that. “I care. I do care.” He runs his tongue over his lower lip.

“You didn’t seem to care when you didn’t talk to me for a week and a half straight.”

“I thought we already established that I was a dick for that,” he grumbles, frowning.

“That was when this was a one-time thing. Twice, Sukuna? Really? How am I supposed to trust you when you pulled the same stunt again so soon?” You grimace, quietly observing the way his finger is tapping the table in sync with his leg shaking. At the very least, he doesn’t seem to be lying.

“I don’t expect you to, just give me a chance. Gimme a chance to prove I mean it.”

Kento would kill you for even entertaining the thought, yet… you can’t help it.

“Can you at least tell me what happened?”

Sukuna sighs, leaning back and crossing his arms. If ever there was a time to tell you what happened, it should be now. But Sukuna can’t bear the thought of bogging down your life with more issues than what he’s already thrust upon you. “I don’t want you involved in it.”

“You’re not doing yourself any favors by not telling me.”

“I know,” he frowns, “but I don’t want you involved. It’s messy and complicated and I know you and I know you like to stick your nose in my fuckin’ business,” he scowls at the thought.

“You could at least be nice to me since you’re trying to apologize.” You grimace, exasperated with the attitude he’s throwing your way. You’re tired of his bullshit and who can blame you?

“Right. Sorry. I’m an asshole.” He sees the gears turning in your mind. “I’m a dick,” he tries to appeal to you. Had he blinked, he could have missed the way your lips twitched at the corners into the smallest hint of a smile. “Just give me one chance.”

You stare down at your soup, which is surely cold by now, scrutinizing him as you think things through. Your silence is nothing short of miserable for Sukuna, but he’ll give you all the time in the world if he can have your kindness for one more second.

It’s that same kindness that you just know Shoko and Kento are going to absolutely kill you for as you let out a prolonged sigh after weighing your options. “One chance, Sukuna. One.” Maybe you’re naive for it, but you want to believe that whatever reason he had is a good one.

To your surprise, there’s no irritated grumble or begrudging sigh from him. No notes of disapproval. He simply nods.

“And you have to help me study.”

“Deal.”

“Oh! And you have to come eat lunch with me on campus again.”

His lip curls up in distaste. “Your friends don’t like me.”

“They’ll come around,” you shrug. “Oh! And-”

“Alright, alright. Don’t push your luck, woman,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning on his fist. You giggle at him and although he knows things aren’t back to normal, it’s a start. He’s not stupid enough to think he’s fixed everything right away, but even if it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, he’s thrilled to at least see that you’re smiling.

That smile that’s like the sun.

The rest of lunch is quieter than usual, the regular cadence of your conversations never fully returning.

“How are Choso and Yuji? Is everything alright now?”

The burly man’s eyes seem to dull at the question as they stay fixed on the soup he’s eating. “They’ll be fine.”

His reaction is anything but reassuring. He doesn’t seem nearly as sure of himself as usual, choosing instead to push the question aside. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Fuck, is he ever difficult sometimes.

“You know, if we’re gonna try to be friends, I’d appreciate it if you gave me something to work with here,” you offer a wry smile, your best attempt at lightening the air. He shoots you a glance, spooning more soup into his mouth as he leans on his palm against the table.

“It’s been a shitty weekend,” he answers. Well, that doesn’t really give you anything to work with, but at least he’s being honest with you. You fall silent again, the steady clinking of spoons against porcelain and the buzzing of a lunch rush behind you seeming to fall to the wayside in favor of a quiet understanding that things aren’t quite back to normal.

“Am I allowed to ask how the presentation went or would I be digging my own grave?” Sukuna asks over a spoonful of soup after an extended silence.

“I humiliated myself, what do you want me to say?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” he tries to reassure you, though it comes across empty.

You’re reminded of the laughter and judgmental glares, setting your spoon down as the reigns of anxiety stir in your stomach at the thought.

“I’m sorry, Pr-” he hesitates, his jaw tightening as the new meaning of his go-to nickname sinks in. “- Princess. I hope you at least took credit for my bullshit.”

“I did.”

Sukuna offers a proud smile. “Good girl.”

You blink down at your soup as your stomach does a backflip and your cheeks heat up, and all you can do is pray that he hasn’t noticed the effect that his words had on you.

It’s not long before you’ve both finished your meals over relative silence. “Um- thanks for lunch.”

“Yeah. No problem,” Sukuna gruffs.

“I should go.”

“Let me walk you back,” he insists, as though the uneasy silence wasn’t enough for him. With a lopsided smile, you grab both of your trays and dispose of the trash before you find yourself back out in the cold again.

Sukuna mindlessly fiddles with the lighter in his pocket again, a reminder that he needs to figure out how to put it back together, much like his friendship with you, if he can even call it that.

In an effort to mend things, you turn towards him as you wait to cross the street, smiling shyly. “You know, I do appreciate the effort, Sukuna. I honestly didn’t think you’d really bother trying.”

He scowls. “Sometimes you’re too honest.” He sighs, but he can’t be too upset when you’re giggling again, even if it’s at his expense. “But, that’s fai- shit!” He cuts himself off, whipping his hand from his pocket in a flash as he pats his jacket down.

Your lips are pursed as you watch him, puzzled by what he’s doing. That is, until a puff of smoke leaves his pocket. You blink at him.

“Did you just…”

“Shut up.”

“Light yourself on fire?”

“I said shut up,” he hisses, his cheeks reddening. He’ll blame the cold if you ask, but he’s embarrassed beyond belief, his cool exterior crumbling as he somehow managed to spark a flame in his own damn pocket.

You bite down hard on your lip in an effort to stop yourself from laughing.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking laugh.” He snarls, flashing you a glare.

But being told not to do something only makes it that much harder.

“You’re-” A laugh bubbles between your words and you do your best to swallow it. “You’re okay right?” You strain through your barely-contained chortles.

With a peek into his pocket, he pulls out the lighter, lid, and hinge pin, tossing them into the opposite pocket as he pats down his coat once more. “Yeah, seems fine now.”

Well if he’s fine- you absolutely double over in laughter, unable to bear holding it in any longer.

“Oh, laugh it up, short stuff,” he grumbles, dusting whatever ashes had clung to his skin off onto his jeans. He grits his teeth as he watches you double over at his expense, his cheeks no less red than they were a minute ago as the crimson glow spreads to his ears.

At least this time he can blame the cold, or the fire.

Not that you’d believe him.

As your giggles finally subside, Sukuna’s able to relax more than he has since Friday at the sight of your eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine happiness. Maybe embarrassing himself in front of you isn’t so bad, if it brings back a semblance of the connection he’d been chasing since he found you in the lunch hall.

Wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, you tilt your head. Cute. “How did that even happen? Don’t lighters have like a- a-” you wrack your brain, turning your attention to the overcast sky. “Like a safety or something?”

Sukuna digs a hand into his pocket that isn’t singed, holding the base of his lighter out to you. “It might have, but it’s broken.”

Curiously, you run your hand over the broken hinge, flipping the lighter over. The name ‘Itadori’ is carved in cursive across the back.

“Itadori?”

Sukuna hums. “My dad.”

Your face softens. “I think it can be fixed.” You hold it back out to him and he tucks it back in place.

“Maybe.”

Now that Sukuna’s not literally on fire, you’re able to cross the street and head back to the library where you’re sure you’ll find Kento and Shoko.

“Are you gonna join us?”

“Another time. I gotta take care of some shit.”

“Thanks for lunch. See you around, Sukuna.”

Before you can turn away, his fingers brush your wrist, as if he’s hesitant to stop you.

“Thank you,” he breathes quietly.

You smile.

–

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Sho, please, you weren’t there!” You try to insist.

“Girl. I’m begging you, you’re better than him.”

To nobody’s shock or awe, Shoko and Kento are equally as unimpressed that you’ve given Sukuna another chance. It comes from a place of concern, of course, but they insist you’re letting him walk all over you.

“There was an emergency with-” you cut yourself off with a glance at Nanami. You suppose you can’t go airing out Sukuna’s personal business to him given that he doesn’t know about the kids. “There was a family emergency,” you insist, “it was an accident.”

“You believe that bullshit?” Shoko’s whipping an unlit cigarette through the air like it’s a sword and it’s you she’s aiming to strike.

“I don’t think it’s bullshit,” you mumble.

With a sullen sigh, Kento finally speaks up in an unimpressed tone. “Had we not just discussed that you deserve better?”

You wince, his words searing. “He made a mistake. Accidents happen, Ken.”

“Hell of an accident,” Shoko shakes her head. “You’re actually hopeless.”

Pouting, you look to Kento for backup, but he doesn’t seem to be in agreement either.

“Give him a break,” you whine, “he literally lit himself on fire today.”

There’s a collective hum of confusion from both of your friends.

“He was messing with a lighter in his pocket and he accidentally lit his pocket on fire,” you grin.

Shoko scoffs. “That’s almost impressive, between the safety and the lack of oxygen in his pocket.”

“Well, the safety was broken,” you reason.

“Hah. Dumbass,” she snorts, exchanging a glance with Nanami. “Just… be careful with him, okay? He’s got a short fuse and a whole boatload of baggage that you and your scholarship don’t need to be involved in.”

“Don’t let him step on you,” Kento pleads in a tone unfamiliar to you.

Your brow furrows as you observe him, but his expression is aloof as ever. “I know, I know. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

–

It’s cold as you slip into the lobby of Sukuna’s building the following evening. You’d re-opened your email tab the previous night to find a message from him.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Monday, 8:58 PM busy tomorrow? kids wanna see ya

englishlitstudies@gmail.com - Monday, 9:39 PM Just the kids want to see me? ;)

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Monday, 9:47 PM you coming or not

You could envision his scowl from behind the screen as you teased him, a stupid smile on your face at the thought of it. Things may not be back to normal, but your heart certainly isn’t aware of that as it palpitates at every thought of him.

Now, as you make your way up to his apartment with your GameCube, you don't really know what to expect.

The moment you crack the door to his apartment, you’re bombarded by Yuji in a tight hug as he’s practically leaping into your arms in utter excitement. Caught off-guard, you barely manage to catch him as he excitedly chants your name.

“We missed you!” He grins as you let him up onto your shoulders, ruffling Choso’s hair while he calmly smiles in greeting.

“That’s enough,Yu,” Sukuna mutters from the stove. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans, that same painfully tight black tank top from last week and a red plaid shirt that hangs loosely from his shoulders. A pair of wireless black headphones sits atop his head, but he pulls them down around his neck as you enter the apartment.

Yuji pouts as he begins to clamber down from your shoulders, landing with a thump! back on the floor before hopping over to the TV again.

Bringing you around the kids is likely a part of Sukuna’s scheme to bring things back to normal, now that you’re seeing him again. Kids are smart, too smart at times and they would know if something is wrong.

The apartment is warm in contrast to the cold winter evening, the smell of fried chicken wafting through the air. You bound up to Sukuna, peeking around his side. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He clicks his tongue. “D’you think I feed them takeout for every meal?” He arches a brow as he looks over his shoulder at you.

“Maybe,” you simper, looking over the ingredients. There’s a rice cooker with a steadily descending clock and he’s frying up some chicken. “Katsu?”

“Mm.”

“It smells great!” You grin, turning back to give Sukuna space to cook as you head back towards Choso and Yuji. “So, I hear you two missed me?” You chide, your heart filled with warmth when Yuji eagerly nods and launches into a story from school that he’d been wanting to tell you since last week. You listen attentively and his eyes shine when you laugh along with him.

“Give her some space, brat. Come grab plates,” Sukuna instructs calmly, once Yuji’s story is over. He’s more at ease than he has been in a while, and even with the weight of everything going on in his life piled on his shoulders, he feels the familiar pull of your gravity keeping him grounded.

Like some sort of drug, you just seem to relieve his tension merely with your presence. You really are like the sun, warming his skin and lulling his worries to a dull buzz.

As Yuji excitedly runs over to Sukuna in the kitchen, Choso gingerly approaches you. “Thanks for coming.” His tone suggests he knows a portion of what happened between you and Sukuna and he’s grateful you’d give his idiot older brother another chance. Smart kid, just like you thought.

You return his smile. “How’ve you been, Cho?”

“I’m good. Um-” his gaze flickers briefly to the back of the apartment where Sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Yuji set the table, handing the little boy three four plates. Choso’s voice lowers as he continues. “I think something’s wrong. Um- with Kuna.”

You tilt your head, following the little boy’s gaze. Sukuna doesn’t seem much different from any other time you’ve seen him. His skin is still somewhat gaunt, but he looks better than yesterday, no longer under duress. “What do you mean?” You prod softly.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, perplexing you. “Someone came to the house on Friday,” he tells you. Your lips purse at the realization that Friday was your presentation. Maybe his reason for missing your presentation is bigger than he’s letting on. “He seemed mad at them and then he was gone most of the night.”

“He seems fine now,” you comment, but you don’t know Sukuna well enough to know who could have angered him at the door. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure your brother’s fine. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Choso nods, sunken eyes following Yuji’s movements as he places napkins around the table. It’s not long before you’re all seated with a plate of chicken katsu curry. 

“Thanks, Kuna!” Yuji cheers gleefully, digging in immediately. His mild expression cracks as he picks up his utensils, eyes flickering around the table to his two little brothers before landing on you. He may only hum in response to Yuji, but you see the subtle gleam in his eye, along with something else that you can’t quite identify. Sadness?

Choso’s words echo in your mind, but you can’t find any other sign of anything being wrong. You settle on keeping an eye on him, smiling gratefully at him for making you dinner. The meal is filled with Yuji’s imaginative rambles as he shares stories from school and stories that may only be about forty percent true. Kids, right? Either way, you laugh along and grin at him.

“You know,” you begin once all of your plates are clean, “if you go check my backpack, I brought something for you guys.”

Like cartoon characters, both kids’ eyes widen and they bolt off towards the living room, two bundles of thrilled laughter as their full attention turns towards the GameCube tucked into your bag.

As you join Sukuna with two empty plates where he’s cleaning up in the kitchen, he casts a glance at you. “You’re too good to them.”

Placing your hands on the counter beside him, you shrug. “I just like spoiling them.”

“I see that. They ask about you a lot.” Your heart swells. You’re not a grinch, but you think your heart grew three sizes just now.

“I think they get it from you,” you tease, poking his bicep. He scowls down at you, rolling his shoulder as though it’ll rebuke your teasing.

“They didn’t,” he grumbles, turning towards the sink and flipping on the tap to run water over the plates.

You follow his movement, leaning against the counter beside him. “Is that why you’re being so grumpy about it? Because they don’t get it from you?” You grin, giving him a bright smile.

Sukuna’s lips curl into a devious smirk and before you know it, he lifts his hand from the running water and flicks it at your face. His smile widens to a grin when you jump, squealing in shock.

“Sukunaaa!” You cry, wiping the water from your cheeks and forehead with the back of your hand.

He chuckles, making a point of letting the water run over his hand again as he shoots you a sly smirk.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, brow furrowed. But when has Sukuna ever listened?

He subtly flicks more water at you, chuckling when you swat his bicep and go to join his little brothers on the couch with a pout that’s just too cute. Both kids move to the floor as the familiar sounds of Kirby Air Ride fill the room and Sukuna joins you on the couch, sitting just close enough that his knee brushes your leg.

“You’re studying English Lit, yeah?”

You nod, shuffling slightly closer to Sukuna to hear him over the TV. “Yeah, this is my last year. I’m hoping I can line something up in the next couple of months.”

“What do you wanna do?” He queries, leaning towards you just enough to give you the impression he’s seeking your warmth.

“A book editor!” You grin, eyes shining.

He lifts a brow. “You wanna read half-baked books for a livin’?”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sure, something like that.”

Amused, Sukuna smiles, relaxing into the couch.

“Have you thought more about what you want to do?” You ask cautiously, tilting your head as you prod at Sukuna’s reinforced walls.

A muscle in his jaw ticks. “No,” he grumbles, pulling his gaze down to his lap. Before you can push him any further, he glances at his watch and gets to his feet. “Be right back.”

You purse your lips as he hurries out of the room as though he has something to do. Sighing, you grab your bag that’s sitting on the floor by Choso, dragging it to your feet in search of the gum that you know is buried somewhere in its depths. You offer some to both of the boys before tossing your bag aside when something grabs your attention.

A torn piece of paper is on the ground at your feet, it must have slid out from under the couch when you had pulled your bag to your feet. That’s not all that unusual given all three of them are students, but the logo on the paper catches your eye.

Decorated in greens, you recognize the bold logo of a law office on the other side of town. A crease forms in your brow as you stare at the logo, but the paper has been torn in a way that all you can really see is the logo and that it addresses Ryomen Sukuna.

Could that have been Sukuna’s dad? No, that wouldn’t make sense if his lighter belonged to his father and ‘Itadori’ is engraved into its side. It had to be Sukuna himself. You suppose you’ve never actually heard anyone refer to him by another name, but the name is fitting somehow, even if he chooses not to use it.

The sound of footsteps alerts you to Sukuna’s return and you tuck the paper back where it belongs, or at least where you found it. The nosey and concerned part of you wants to prod, especially given the apprehension Choso expressed to you earlier, but you know better than to push Sukuna’s limits.

Sukuna rounds the corner with tense shoulders, tilting his neck to either side as he cracks it.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just didn’t wanna hear you nagging about what I wanna do.” There’s a little more fire behind his words than usual and you sense that this is not the time to be asking why in the hell there’s legal papers torn up under his couch like a rabid mutt got a hold of them.

“A little dramatic, don’t you-”

“Be nice, Kuna!” Yuji yells suddenly, pausing his game. 

Sukuna’s jaw slacks in disbelief at his little brother. “Pay attention to your game, brat,” he hisses.

“No! You’re gonna scare her off again! Meanie!”

“That’s it-” With a gleam in his eye, Sukuna lunges forward and tosses Yuji over his shoulder. He’s met with thunderous giggles as the little boy kicks and wriggles in an attempt to escape from his older brother. “You know what happens to kids who get in their older brother’s way?”

“NOOoooO!” Yuji cries out between giggles as he pushes his absolute hardest against the mass of muscles that is Sukuna. Choso is quietly laughing as he watches Sukuna toss his brother onto the couch, albeit gently. “No no no nononono!” Yuji puts his hands up in an attempt to block Sukuna, who pretends to sit on his brother, though you can see he’s not putting his full weight on poor little Yuji.

Putting only an ounce of his weight on his little brother, he slyly grins at you as you laugh along with the siblings, your eyes shining. He may be just about the most hardened and irritated (or maybe irritat-ing) man you’ve ever met, but it’s clear just how much he loves his brothers, even if he could use some time away from them.

“Kunaaaaaa!!” Yuji cries, weakly pushing against him.

“D’ya hear that? Almost sounds like my little brother, except it can’t be because he was a little shit,” Sukuna snorts, only to be met with giggles. You bring a hand up to your mouth as you laugh along with the poor little boy.

“Let me gooooooo!!”

“You done bein’ a brat?”

“Yesss I promise, yesss!!”

Sukuna stands up as Yuji dramatically rolls off the couch, feigning being dead. Sukuna plops back down beside you and runs a hand through his locks, mirth swirling in those striking crimson irises of his.

“You’re still a meanie,” Yuji sticks his tongue out at Sukuna, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he scoots closer to the TV, but Sukuna only rolls his eyes this time. “Don’t scare her.”

“If your brother keeps tutoring me, I’ll be back before you know it,” you reassure the young boy who grins brightly before his attention turns back to the TV. “Speaking of which, I should get going. My final project for Women’s Lit is due tomorrow at midnight.”

You begin gathering your things, pausing as you realize you would have to unplug the GameCube to pack up all of your things, so you settle on pretending to forget it, hoping that Sukuna isn’t paying attention, his eyes locked on the TV.

Checking to make sure you have your phone, wallet, and keys, you cast one last glance at the corner of the piece of paper beneath the couch that’s just barely sticking out, debating doing some snooping later.

To your delight as the boys hug you goodbye and Sukuna follows you to the door, he either forgets about the gaming console or lets it slide this time, leaning against the door frame.

“You make a mean chicken katsu,” you beam, “thanks again for dinner.”

“Mm. Thanks for the second chance.”

Your smile softens.

“I got work at one on Thursday. You up to watch the kids? If you drop by earlier, we can study beforehand.” He leans his head down to your level, the warmth of his breath fanning your face as he can’t resist flustering you at least once each time you visit. “And y’know, you never did get to tell me the third thing I owe ya,” he hums, his voice low and sultry.

Your breath hitches at the implication behind his tone and before you know it, you’re stumbling back away from his close proximity, fumbling for the button for the elevator as the rickety old door slides open with a jarring screech.

“See you on- uh- Thursday.”

“See you then,” he chuckles.

This man will be the absolute death of you.

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❦ a/n ; hiii loves! i hope you all enjoyed <33 very angst heavy chapter, i'm sorry :((( i absolutely adored writing sukuna's horrible day, the poor guy. i also had to consult my friend who's a lawyer on how one gets served documents, what a confusing process and i'm sure she was even more confused why i was asking her LMAO.

anywayyy i just wanted to say that the comments and tags and asks you guys have been sending in seriously make my day and i'm so here for it. thank you all so much for all the love and support <33 as always, it's super appreciated <33

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[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[steddiewithachance]

I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part three)

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Danny never said he knew what he was doing, but he thinks he's doing something right if the kid hasn't started crying yet. so you know, that's great. now, he just needed to get the kid out of here, so Danny could have a moment to mourn his retirement plans.

He wasn't going to blame the kid, ancients know Danny would have gone back to hero work eventually. He just couldn't let things go if he could help it, and he could in this situation.

"Alright, here's the plan." Danny announced, slapping his legs as he stood up. "it's late, you're a kid who needs sleep. let's get you home, then we can get a game plan on how to do this."

Tim had been nodding his head, even if it was reluctantly, before freezing in sudden realization. Danny raised his eyebrow in question, wondering what was wrong now.

"you want my help?" Tim asked, absolutely gobsmacked.

Oh, the kid thought Danny was just going to send him away like any reasonable adult would. Ha, Danny wished. but no. He had no clue what he was doing and this kid was his only trump card for making any of the half-assed plans still forming in his head work. AND he had a feeling if he didn't keep Tim close by, the kid would run off and do something stupid.

"Yep," Danny snorted, "you were smart enough to figure out who Batman was, and then you decided to take it upon yourself to help him; whether by convincing me to do it or yourself."

"Now then," Danny said as he walked over to the couch and pulled his hoodie from under Sam. Sam, to her credit, told him to fuck off and went back to snoring. Tucker, somehow having heard her, responded with a 'Go fuck yourself'.

Shaking his head, Danny turned back to Tim. "Let's get going. It's-" Danny turned to look at the clock, his eyes narrowing when he found it; 4 am. The kid was up and coherent enough to try and blackmail someone into being Robin at four in the morning. "-four. you seriously need to get some sleep kid. It's a school night." actually, what day was it???

Tim rolled his eyes but started to follow Danny out the door. "It's Saturday, and I've stayed up longer," he grumbled.

Danny snorted, "So have I, but we still need to sleep." He should probably try and prevent the kid from staying up longer than he should. Danny knows what years of not sleeping properly does to someone. The kid's obsessed with Batman and Robin, right? He'll just use them then.

"Robin needs all the sleep he can get. Otherwise, Batman will bench him. If Robin is benched, then who is out there helping Batman?" That's convincing, right? Does Batman even have the power to bench Robin? From the sounds of it, Robin is his kid's vigilante name. Which means he totally has the power to ground them.

Wait...

If Danny was going to be Robin, does that mean Batman would think he's his kid?

Oh, hell naw. He was not going to be adopted by another fruitloop! If Bruce Wayne even thinks about it, Danny will be out of there so fast even the Flash couldn't stop him.

Tim stumbled, his eyes wide in surprise. "Really?" he asks, turning to look at Danny in horror. Danny blinked, brain failing to remember why the kid would be surprised.

shit, what were they talking about?? Robin... It's four am... Right!

"Yep," Danny chirped, leading the kid to his car. "Now, I know everyone says not to get into a stranger's car and all that jazz, but it's the only way I'm getting you home. So, hop in."

Tim didn't even hesitate to jump into the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt across his chest. Danny stared at him for a second, before opening the car door and sitting down.

"kid, you do know you're not supposed to get into strangers' cars, right?" Danny asked, closing the door and buckling up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and started the engine.

"Well, yeah?" Tim replied, turning to face him, "But you're not a stranger. You're Robin. You protect people not hurt them."

and well? Danny can't argue with that, now, can he?

"Right, fine. Just promise not to get into strangers' cars. I don't care how much you think you know about them. It's not safe, and you could get hurt."

Tim hummed, thinking about it for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, alright. I promise."

"good." Danny sighed, turning to look at the road to see if it was clear. then he sighed again, "Don't tell strangers where you live, please."

Tim looked at him in amusement, a small smile spreading across his face. "Drake manor. 1015 Mountain Drive. It's in the Crest Hill community."

"You're killing me here, kid." Danny groaned, hitting his head against the steering wheel. Then he slowly lifted his head and turned to stare at Tim, "Kid. How the hell did you get all the way over here? Mountain Drive is all the way over in Bristol??? That's, like, twelve miles outside of city limits?"

"I have my ways."

Danny narrowed his eyes, "You bribed someone, didn't you."

Tim looked away from him, fiddling with his fingers.

sighing, Danny sat up and started driving down the road. They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the chaos that was Gotham City as they drove. Tim eventually slumped over, his head resting against the window.

It took a good thirty minutes before Danny could turn onto the bridge out of town. The traffic wasn't heavy, just the occasional car here and there. It was almost peaceful.

"Turn here," Tim suddenly instructed, startling Danny.

"Tim!" Danny cried, turning to look at the kid, then back at the road. although, he did do as the kid instructed. "don't do that! you'll give me a heart attack or something! Ancients!"

Tim blinked, then shrugged. "ok," he yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"my house is the one with really stupid-looking ducks carved into the gates." Tim supplied, waving his hand at the road ahead of them. "Bruce's is the one with bats, but you knew that."

"Right," Danny agreed. What were the chances that Batman happened to live in a place called Gotham and in a house with black iron gates covered in bats? It was almost as coincidental as Danny's last name sounding like Phantom. Fate really had quite the sense of humor, didn't they?

after they passed a few more dirt roads, Tim pointed at a specific one, "Turn here. The gates a little further back than everyone else's."

Danny hummed, turning the car onto the road. What was his life at this point? Driving children to their huge houses at four-thirty in the morning? agreeing to become Robin? coming out of retirement because a kid asked him to?

Bruce Wayne better appreciate all the effort this kid was going through...

A tall gate slowly popped into view, making Danny slow the car down until he could stop right in front of it. "Alright, kid. You're home. get some sleep. Go to school, I don't know, what do you rich kids do on the weekends? actually, you know what? It doesn't matter, do you have a phone?"

Tim blinked as he slowly unbuckled, "yes?"

"One that's not monitored by your parents or anyone else?"

"..."

Danny sighed, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his phone. "Here," Danny unlocked it, went to settings and pressed the factory rest option. Once the phone finished the reset, he quickly scanned through it to make sure it was all gone before adding his second phone number. once done, he tossed it over to the kid. "here, should work for now. Don't let anyone else have it."

If this was any other situation, Danny would have gone straight to the kid's parents; but considering it was past four in the morning and there wasn't a city-wide amber alert? He has a feeling the kid needs a safety net, and well? What better than a direct line to him?

"I can't just take your phone!" Tim cried, catching the phone before it could fall to the ground.

"It's my backup one. I tend to break my phone pretty often, so I always keep an extra one on me. my current number is saved on it, you can reach out and get in contact with me now." Danny waved off the kid's concern, reaching into the back of the car to grab a bag.

with how often his phone had broken during ghost fights and how frequently his parents dissected his phone for parts? It's a habit at this point to have a backup. or Ten. Pulling the bag to the front, Danny showed the kid what was inside.

"..." Tim blinked, then looked up at Danny. "why do you have a bag of broken phones in your car?"

"Because my phones keep breaking and I figured it would be easier to just keep them for extra parts than toss them. Now," Danny tossed the bag into the back, ignoring how it tipped over and spilled the contents all over the seat. He'd clean it up later. Maybe. "It's early. You need sleep, I need sleep. We can pick another day to sit down and build a game plan."

Tim sat in silence for a moment, staring at the phone in his hands, before glancing up at Danny. "You really mean it?" he asked, turning the phone around anxiously, "you really want my help?"

"kid, Tim," Danny started, tilting his head so he could make eye contact. "with how bad you say Batman's gotten? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Who better than the one who went out of his way to try and actually do something about it?"

Tim's eyes watered as he looked back at the phone. "ok," he whispered, nodding his head. Reaching up, he wiped his face clean before taking a deep breath and letting it out.

"ok," he repeated, voice stronger now. "I'll help. I want to."

"Good," Danny nodded in agreement, then smiled. "get some sleep kid, you need it."

"I don't need it," Tim grumbled, turning to open the door and get out. "but if that's what it takes for you to allow me to help, then I guess I can take a nap or something."

Danny snorted, watching as Tim closed the car door and started making his way to the gate.

as soon as the kid was out of view, Danny slammed his head onto the steering wheel and groaned. He had definitely jinxed himself earlier. How hard can being Robin be? Yeah right. He hasn't even gotten to meet Bruce yet and he's already stressed.

...

Glancing up, Danny watched as the clock glitched then turned to five am.

...

Well then, he might as well do something productive since it was unlikely he'd be getting any more sleep if he went back. Sam would be up by the time he got there, which meant he'd have to answer all of her questions... which would wake Tucker up, which would mean Danny'd have to explain all over again.

Glancing around, Danny suddenly realized something.

Batman.

Bruce Wayne was Batman.

Bruce Wayne; as in, Gotham's own himbo billionaire.

Who lives in Bristol.

Which is where he is right now. Logically speaking, he'd be able to find it pretty fast if he just looked at the gates. It's probably just a few houses from Tim's too, now that he thought about it...

Oh, this was a terrible idea, but when had that ever stopped Danny?

Jazz was so going to kill him for this.

Next

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - FINAL PART - Bonus

"Let me see"

You mentioned while laughing, sitting in front of the man who looked at you affectionately as you touched his face and observed him attentively.

"Your eye looks a bit red... Have you been using the drops the doctor recommended?"

Curly: "Maybe... I forgot them... today"

His voice was still somewhat strange to hear, it had the essence of what his voice once was, but much rougher and it was difficult for him to say long sentences, he had to pause between words to be able to say them.

You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, seeing the scars on his face.

At first, it wasn't the same skin you knew; you were surprised at how his body returned to that familiar skin, changing its texture, gradually becoming the skin you love to touch.

You noticed the ring hanging from his neck, with the lack of hands, he wore his ring that way to keep it close.

He had to convince you to give him back his ring, but at that moment you were in crisis because you had told him that the day you took it off, you would leave him. Although you reached an agreement to annul that promise.

Five years had already passed since you returned to Earth, and too many things had happened.

On your side, you started following your dream when you were little, and today you have your own bakery.

But it was hard work getting here, because the first thing you worried about was your husband's well-being, who spent half a year resting in the hospital, and then you had to take care of him with attention at home.

Pony Express decided to give you a percentage of your salary and a bonus for the damages they suffered, so with that money, they performed the man's first surgeries.

A skin graft, hair, and facial reconstruction, among others, over the next two years.

He used prosthetics that helped him walk and pick things up on his own, although just in case, you still had his wheelchair as a backup, which he refuses to use again, and when you're not watching, he tries to get rid of it, but you've locked the room where it is.

You even adopted two dogs, the first was Jupiter, a Labrador, a service dog who helps Curly when you're not around, and he's also a very good companion.

And after insisting for so long that Jupiter needed a little sibbling, you adopted Sunset, a dog you had found outside your bakery begging for food, a golden retriever who had escaped from her home, where it seemed they only used her to have puppies and sell them because she was purebred.

Both animals got along well right away, both quite calm, they don't cause any problems.

On the other hand, you stayed in touch with the rest of the crew.

Anya was able to get into medical school a few months after returning, and she is currently in her final year to receive her diploma.

Swansea retired and stayed at home with his family and children, being welcomed by his wife and the little girl she had had a few months ago.

Daisuke tried again with the art school, giving his all and with the support of his parents, he was able to get in. He even has a blog where he talks about the experiences he had in his life to motivate other young people to follow what they love.

Jimmy on the other hand... The last thing you heard about him was that his sentence was extended further for causing conflicts during his time in prison.

As for the little baby... you found out she was adopted by a good family, and that was all you needed to know about her.

Curly: "They're already... about to arrive"

He alerted when he heard Sunset start barking upon hearing a car park nearby.

He got out of bed and went outside to open the door and let his friends into the yard.

There was something that became a tradition among you, every year you celebrated the anniversary of the day you returned alive to Earth after such an experience, having a meal at your home.

Daisuke: "Who is the cutest girl! Let me pet you, fluffball!"

The boy, every time he went, was determined to make Sunset his friend, but she always ended up hiding where he couldn't reach her.

Anya: "Today is a wonderful day... And the food smells really good, every year they surpass the previous year's food, it's incredible."

Swansea: "Not bad, huh! Did you make this grill by yourself, Curly? The meat looks incredible."

Daisuke: "Where is (Yn)?? I want to greet her!"

He had managed to catch the dog, who was resigned in his arms while Jupiter was barking at Daisuke, knowing how upset Sunset was.

Curly: "She has... a surprise for... all of you."

He said, smiling, waiting for you to come out in the summer dress he had bought for you, quite loose and comfortable, perfect for your growing belly. 

Everyone was surprised to see you, Daisuke was left speechless, dropping Sunset.

Daisuke: "But! You said-!"

"Well, not naturally—but... I was given the opportunity to do it in vitro and it was a success! I was afraid it wouldn't work because of my eggs, but... after several failed attempts... we finally got very lucky."

You caressed your belly, smiling.

Swansea: "Look at that... Congratulations, kid!"

Anya: "That's wonderful! Oh my God, how many weeks are you now? Do you already know their gender? Why didn't you tell us anything?"

She approached to touch your belly, happy that you have achieved what you wanted so much.

"I'm already in my 29th week... And we already know it's a boy! We were deciding on a name!"

Daisuke: "I have a really cool one!"

"I'm not going to call him Daisuke."

The boy let out a disappointed "aaaw" that you weren't going to consider his name for your son.

Curly: "We thought... of Charles"

"That I'm still not at all in agreement with that name."

You pointed at him, making him laugh and roll his eye.

Anya: "You still have time! When is your due date? I would like to be with you when it happens."

Daisuke: "Can I be there too? Maybe the second time I won't faint, hehe."

Swansea: "I wish you the best, boys are not difficult to entertain, they are difficult to keep alive, they love danger even after reaching adulthood."

You felt very excited about all the support you were receiving, happy to have met such wonderful people.

You didn't regret at all for having done everything possible to get them out of that situation.

The gathering continued with everyone eating and talking about the things they had been doing lately, catching up on their activities, until dessert time arrived, everyone's favorite moment.

Curly: "The best sweets... are from my wife..."

Swansea: "You don't even like sweets!"

Curly couldn't help but smile anyway when he saw everyone enthusiastically eating the ice cream cake you had made for that hot day, while he had his own special portion that you prepared for him so he could eat without too much sweetness.

You couldn't resist feeding him, and even though he wanted to seem annoyed, he adored the attention you gave him.

"Oops~ I'm sorry~ I stained your cheek"

You said with a smile to kiss his cheek, you started smearing hkd face with the dessert and left kisses on all those spots.

Swansea: "Get a room!"

Daisuke: "...Did you ever do it on the ship while working?"

"DAISUKE!"

You shouted with your cheeks red at such a true thing that had been said.

Curly: "...Two or three times..."

Swansea: "That's nothing, you managed to control themselves quite well."

Curly: "....During the week"

"Can I send it back into space?"

You didn't know how to hide your face in response to his declaration, you were extremely embarrassed.

But you had no escape, from the day you said yes, that man was going to stay with you until the end of his days.

And you knew well that he is going to be an incredible father soon as well.

In the end, everyone was able to have their well-deserved fate.