#and he's emphatically NOT SORRY

[notdexterousatall]

Catatonic!Jason fic where he ends up back with the Bats before Talia grabs him. Due to situations, he gets left alone with the Joker for a bit before the rest of the Bats show up to rescue him. Jason's first lucid act of his second life is to strangle Joker to death. Bruce and family come back to find Jason wringing the life out of Joker's lifeless corpse, viciously.

[roguekaiju]

This is so ridiculous sorry im just glad everyone's finally showing some love to the underappreciated messy bitch who lives for drama Monsignor Ray O'Malley (alt below)

Alt:

[catmomjudy]

You know, I know they said that Tommy calling Buck “Evan,” was purposeful for whatever reason. And I’ve seen all kinds of theories, pro and con.

But it didn’t hit me why it bothered me so much until I reblogged an Ana post the other day (and then reread an Ana fic).

[phoenixwrites]

"Eye of the Beholder" is another one of the very best Gargoyles episodes. I love the foil of Fox and Xanatos against Elisa and Goliath.

I also love that someone on this writing/artist team really wanted to lean into monsterfucking.

I'm not kidding.

...

Yeah.

[ceramicbeetle]

Spock being the only depicted nonhuman member of the TOS crew is like,, you can come up with a lot of clever/interesting watsonian explanations for why that is but none of them will ever make any sense in the broader depiction of canon. the doyalist 'network/budget constraints' explanation is basically the Only tangible justification for this and you have to just allow yourself to say "There are other nonhuman crewmembers, actually, it's just Coincidence that we as external viewers never see them on screen"

[orphilism]

it happens to me that midvalley gave me full older brother vibes, you know. i don't know how or why, but i suddenly thought about it and said, the non-blood older brother and younger brother trope fits so good on him and nicholas :o it sounds crazy even though i consider that nicholas is very avoidant with certain things, or at least i get the impression that it is like that or would be with midvalley, because just for that reason, midvalley would be the typical older brother who bullies you but not too much. and in front of others he is the type ““ mess with him and i will destroy your brain ”” (bro literally can and will do it) even if his younger brother could defend himself, he would still do it because that's my favorite love language as an older sibling myself and i'll add to any character whether you like it or not.

nicholas, although he finds midvalley insufferable¿, would enjoy the music he plays as long as it doesn't break his eardrum, midvalley being amused by this because he sees him as the younger brother he never got and couldn't hurt him (yeah i did read trigun i saw those panels but im delusional).

and i also feel that those two would be, midvalley holding nicholas on a leash and nicholas as the furious and aggressive little thing meme that rips off your arm if you get close, since i feel that midvalley triggers him to violence but that would be the part of himself that doesn't show to no one else so that's why he'd be like that with him. it's like when you can't be something with the rest of the world but you can be that something with THAT specific person and that's why i think and feel that nicholas's whole feral side is brought out with midvalley.

another thing is that midvalley also gives me a lot of vibes that he is older than nicholas in canon, even without anything confirmed (i hate you nightow) i say that midvalley is in his thirties, close to forty, and nicholas is around there in his twenties (i'm looking at you tristamp coded nicholas)

[opti-mized]

work crush confirmed not in a serious relationship and also i got his number. we're so back

[rackartyg]

a lot of people seem to have this base belief that being on medication is strongly bad in and of itself, irrespective of side effects, and it's got to be some form of ableism, right? because i genuinely cannot understand it otherwise. like, yeah, taking pills isn't super fun and it's an extra hassle to stay on top of prescriptions and refills, but that's a very small badness, in trade for potentially a very big good. some meds obviously have a brutal side effect profile and that's absolutely something you need to carefully weigh against the benefits, but like.

my dad just desperately wants my antidepressants, irrespective of documented side effects, to be bad. he has invented on his own that surely they must be bad for your liver, for example, and therefore i must go off them as soon as i possibly can, rather a bit too early than a bit too late. he has accepted that maybe i need them so i don't kill myself, but meds are still something i should avoid, because in and of itself, it's bad to be on medication. and i just don't get it.

why is "life should be hard and painful" so persuasive to so many people.

[sw-trashship]

I never truly liked The la.dy and the t.ramp but there's that scene where Lady gets annoyed and she doesn't want to talk to him and at one point Tr.amp said "Who could ever hurt a cute little trick like you?" while wagging his tail. I... I cannot stop thinking on that scene with R.obin...

[ananke-xiii]

dean is drive boy, dive boy, dirty numb angel boy, in the doorway boy, she was a lipstick boy, she was a beautiful boy and tears boy and all in your inner space boy

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader on the kitten interview

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this was highly requested, hope you enjoy <3

“Not sure how I got the short end of the stick with these three.” Y/n teased as she crossed her legs in front of her, joining Chase, Rudy, and Drew on the floor of the interview space. Cameras and crew surrounded them, a small makeshift barrier of boxes dividing them from where the cast sat on the floor.

“Ouch.” Rudy said, placing his hand over his heart in faux hurt. Drew grinned, leaning back on his hands, his fingers resting closely to the curve of y/n’s back.

“Are we ready for the kittens?” One of the producers asked.

“Bring in the cats!” The four of them cheered, clapping excitedly as one of the crew members entered the space, kittens in hands. Y/n put her hands over her mouth, squealing quietly as they placed the tiny creatures down in front of them.

“How long until y/n starts crying?” Chase said, as they continued to watch the kittens stumbled along the ground.

“She already cried on the drive here so…” Drew said, causing y/n to elbow him before returning her attention to the cats. A small gray kitten waddled over, climbing its way into y/n’s lap, its paws padding along her legs softly. The four of them talked sweetly to the kittens as they continued to play, climb, and run along the set.

Who in the Outer Banks cast consistently makes you break character?

“Oh JD,” Rudy said, moving to lay on his back as a small orange kitten rested politely in his lap.

“Yeah…” Drew watched one of the kittens crawl along his arm. “Or Nick Cirillo.”

“Agreed, agreed,” Chase said. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?” Y/n asked, clearly still entranced by the gray kitten playing with the sleeve of her shirt. The boys broke into laughter, causing y/n to groan. Of course she knew it was going to be difficult to answer questions with the smallest, cutest creatures alive in front of her, but she at least thought she’d be able to answer one question.

“I’m sorrryyy!” Y/n laughed. “Um, I think I’d have to say JD or Drew.”

“Me?” Drew asked with a quirk of his head.

“Yes! It’s just so weird to see you acting like… for lack of better words, a crazy person.” Y/n grinned, her nails scratching the scruff of the gray kitten’s neck.

What’s your favorite behind-the-scenes memory from filming Season 3?

“Oh, probably when Drew dropped me on my ass.” Y/n said, causing Rudy and Chase to laugh at the memory and Drew to shake his head emphatically. They had been filming a scene where Rafe picked up y/n’s character, carrying her over to the couch, however, Drew had miscalculated and dropped y/n straight on the hardwood floor. He had felt so awful, stressing as a pretty gnarly bruise began to form along her back over the week.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident.” Drew groaned, running his fingers through his grown out buzz cut.

“I know, I’m just kidding, baby.” Y/n cooed, pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek.

If you could create a playlist for your characters, what songs would be on it?

“Do you guys have playlists?” Drew asked, looking between his co-stars. 

“Oh yeah,” Rudy said, patting the head of the kitten sleeping soundly on his stomach.

“I’ve got like a lot of… dark stuff.” Drew chuckled, glancing over at y/n, who was entranced with the gray cat that was still lying politely in her lap. Drew noticed the sparkle in her eye as she tickled the cat playfully, the kitten letting out a small meow.

“Um, a lot of Taylor Swift, of course… some Fleetwood Mac.” Y/n answered, attention still on her new furry friend.

“I think you’ve got a new family member, Starkey.” Chase teased, pointing at the furball in y/n’s lap.

“Oh, yeah, I think Charleston needs a little kitten friend.” Y/n said, blinking her eyes at Drew playfully. Drew said nothing, just grinning and chuckling lightly.

What’s your biggest ick?

“If you don’t like animals.” Rudy said, y/n pointing at him with a nod. At her movement, the small gray cat in her lap leaped off her knee, landing on Drew’s stomach. The kitten crawled up before flopping down on his chest, wide eyes peering up at Drew. Y/n squealed, watching the little cat having a staring contest with big old Starkey.

“I’d say, um, being rude to service people. That’s a big ick.” Drew whispered, his hand moving to rest next to the kitten’s paws.

“I would say hating on people for liking things,” y/n said, scratching the gray cat’s head. “Like, let people like things. Who cares.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Chase said.

If Outer Banks could crossover with any tv show, which show would you choose?

“Seinfeld?” Rudy laughed, the orange cat resting on his lap stirring slightly as his stomach moved as he chuckled.

“I’ve been digging Rings of Powers lately. I think it would be kinda cool to be in Middle Earth.” Drew answered, sitting up slowly, the cat sliding to rest in his arms.

“Alright, nerd.” Chase teased, causing y/n to giggle and Drew to roll his eyes at the jab. Contrary to what his very frat boy-esque exterior may give off, Drew was a nerd at heart, more than okay with spending the night reading Harry Potter or watching Lord of the Rings.

“I’m gonna say, and I think JD and Austin would agree with me, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” Y/n said, the boys humming in agreement.

“I feel like JJ would really get along with the Gang.” Rudy said.

Who was your celebrity crush growing up?

“Robin Williams. I had a huge crush on him growing up.” Rudy answered, petting the kitten in his lap softly. The gray kitten resting in Drew’s arm began to climb up his shirtsleeve, balancing on his forearm as Drew lifted it higher.

“Padme and Anakin in Attack of the Clones were… life changing.” Y/n said, watching the kitten walking carefully across Drew’s arm. One of the kitten’s paws slipped off, causing the kitten to fall and y/n to let out a small yelp. Drew was able to catch the cat’s small body before it fell too far, the cast letting our relieved sighs.

“You saved him.” Chase gasped, Drew lifting to hold the kitten against his chest, a sweet smile on his face. Y/n cooed at the way the kitten rested in Drew’s large hands, resting her head on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them looked down at the cat.

“Hmm,” Drew hummed quietly, “maybe Charleston does need a little friend.”

Y/n grinned, pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek before squealing excitedly. Y/n turned to Chase, shaking his shoulders excitedly as Chase joined in on her excited squeals.

“Thank you Buzzfeed!” Rudy said, elbowing Drew playfully.

“Yes, thank you Buzzfeed!” Y/n joined, thanking the crew for their new furry friend.

[strwberri-milk]

heyyy, could i request lads men forgetting readers birthday or anniversary? hurt comfort pls 🥹

You understand that Zayne's job is incredibly important and you would never hold it against him for forgetting these dates but you also know that you're still going to feel hurt no matter how much you rationalise it. You woke up that morning, knowing that today should have been a special day, that he remembered to book it off months in advance and the two of you would be together.

When you see him getting ready for work you feel your heart drop, watching silently as he puts together his lunch and grabs his things. He doesn't notice you're up, thinking that you're still asleep and you take that opportunity to run back into bed and feign sleep again. You'd feel awful if you let Zayne go to work worrying about missing something this important so you decide it'd be kinder to just let him go to work in peace.

It's not until he looks at his schedule after a complicated surgery right from the moment he got into work that he realises what day it is today. He feels awful about it, immediately trying to figure out what surgeries he could offload onto the others so he can try and get home to you as soon as possible. Thankfully, all the other staff are emphatic about his situation, assisting him in getting home as soon as he can.

Thankfully, he's usually prepared in advance when it comes to gifts so he doesn't have to buy you anything last minute. He does make it a point to go and grab you a bouquet as well as some little treats/snacks of all your favourite things. When he comes home he finds you curled up in bed, trying to cheer yourself up. He hates how he made you feel and silently slides in behind you, holding you tightly as he whispers that he's sorry for forgetting about you. He promises that he'll make it up to you another night when the two of you are free, promising an evening at a restaurant you love while he currently placates you with the food and flowers he brought.

Xavier was so exhausted that he accidentally slept through the plans that the two of you made. You didn't even know it happened until you reappeared from the bedroom, watching him sleep peacefully on the bed. You can't bring yourself to wake him, sighing as you move to tuck him in.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, sitting up with a jolt as he realises that he missed your date. He rushes to bed only to find you dead asleep, dried tear tracks on your face. The sight breaks his heart, and he immediately starts making plans to try and fix his mistake.

When you come home one evening you're a little panicked because you can't see anything. You reach around blindly, trying to find a light switch to turn on some light in the pitch black darkness. confused when you realise you can't move the switch. You're about to call for Xavier when he makes his presence known beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder and guiding you to the living room. You're expecting to run into your coffee table but you're confused when you don't, kneeling on the ground as he counts down after covering your eyes.

You hear the click of a button and he uncovers your eyes, showing you the room illuminated by seemingly hundreds of little stars. You look around in surprise by the assortment of fairy lights and stars, a little surprised as you realise you're also sat in front of a meal comprised of your favourite takeout.

He gives you a heartfelt apology, promising that he didn't do it on purpose and he's felt awful about it the entire time. He promises that he'll clean all of this up after the two of you are finished. He doesn't want you to take on any of the stress about this at all, pampering you in extra gifts as an additional apology.

Rafayel is amazing whenever it comes to remembering important dates. His life revolves around you so that's why you find it so odd that the day comes and goes with absolutely no fanfare. It's so out of character that you literally gaslight yourself into thinking that you had the dates mixed up, mentioning it to him offhandedly how it's so weird that you thought yesterday was your anniversary but maybe it actually wasn't. Your birthday is an entirely different scenario though - you just tell him that it's okay if he's too busy to do anything and hopefully you can do something next year.

Rafayel is devastated, internally falling to his knees and sobbing while externally all you see is him humming thoughtfully. Internally he's trying to figure out what the hell happened for him to have dropped the ball. He's so panicking, pulling out his phone to book reservations at the fanciest restaurant he can think of and paying an exorbitant amount of money to do so. He also has so many gifts for you that at this point, he could just pull from a pile he has hidden in his home, telling you that you can have this for now because the main event is coming at your dinner reservation.

It doesn't take you long for you to realise that he actually kinda did fuck up and totally forgot about it when you hear him talking to Thomas about how he can't take on any projects at all because he's busy trying to make sure you don't hate him for forgetting a major event. You end up asking him about it right then and there, basically confronting him about why he forgot. He promises you it wasn't intentional and that he just had so much fun preparing for the even that he fully forgot to actually carry through with his plans.

He ends up making it up to you in bed. You mope and pout and bury yourself underneath the luxurious sheets and refuses to let him in. He basically just lays on top of you, burying his face into your neck and begging for forgiveness. You refuse to give it to him that easily, deciding to make him mope and pout more. He holds you tightly, continuing to whisper sweet nothings as he tells you he'll make it up to you by giving you his credit card. You jokingly tell him that's more than enough before getting serious and telling him how upset you are. He swears it won't happen again and to his credit, it never does.

Sylus couldn't get out of a previous commitment, mentally noting that it was a special day and aiming to follow through with absolutely no problem. Unfortunately, his meeting dragged and by the time it finished he had even more things to do which left you standing in his bedroom, dressed extravagantly for a missed reservation.

You cry to yourself quietly in the room as you get yourself undressed for the evening. It doesn't really hit you until you're laying in bed in your pajamas, staring up at the ceiling as you tell yourself that he didn't mean to do it on purpose.

He comes in as you're crying, listening to your soft sniffles. When you go quiet in hopes of attempting to convince him you weren't just sobbing your eyes out he feels even worse, quickly putting two and two together. He realises what he just missed, looking back at his phone and seeing the reservation cancellation.

He immediately scoops you up in his arms. You try to resist him at first but falter when your body settles into his familiar warmth. He coos at you, whispering apologies into your ear. You want to tell him too little too late but you also know that he never would want to see you crying like this, especially not because of him.

He holds you all night, telling you that you can ask him for anything and he'll make it happen for you. He already does but the guilt of this weighs on him so heavily that he knows that no matter what stands in his way, he won't let it stop him from giving you everything that you want. He also makes sure that it doesn't happen again, wanting you to feel like you could always trust him. If he lost your trust on top of that he'd never forgive himself, telling you that you're everything to him.

[my-castles-crumbling]

baby - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 355

"Regulus doesn't get embarrassed," Sirius argues, rolling his eyes as he sips his drink. "It's infuriating. As his sibling, it's my job to embarrass him, but he just gets all...huffy and disappointed."

"Well, you are rather disappointing, acting like an idiot," Regulus drawls from his spot on the other side of the loose circle of friends, sending Sirius a smirk.

"But it's inhuman! I mean, I've tried everything! Embarrassing childhood stories, yelling at you in front of a crowd, sex jokes, everything!" Sirius whines, leaning into Remus's side dramatically.

"It's true," Barty nods emphatically. "I don't think I've ever once seen him blush. Even that time I gave him a lap dance during breakfast! It's like he's made of stone or something." He grins for a moment, "Or maybe he liked it."

"I certainly didn't like that," Regulus snorts. "I just didn't care. You were the one being obnoxious, not me. I'm not going to be embarrassed by your antics, that's your job."

But James decides he needs to set the record straight. Because Regulus certainly does blush. "I'm sorry, but Regulus blushes all the time!" he says loudly, grinning at bit as everyone looks at him.

"James," Regulus hisses, immediately frowning, looking like he wants to kill him. "No, I do not."

Sirius, however, is grinning from ear to ear. "Oh? What gets Ickle Reggie to blush, then?"

And, spurred on by the challenge, James crawls slowly over to Regulus, who is giving him a death glare, and leans to whisper in his ear, making sure to speak so quietly nobody can hear him.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs lowly, allowing his breath to tickle Regulus's skin. "You look gorgeous today."

The effect of the pet name is instantaneous. Immediately, Regulus turns bright red and lets out a little noise, stammering as he looks down to the floor. James laughs as he pulls back, grinning triumphantly, and Sirius yells out, "What did you say to him?"

But he'll never tell. "Nothing," James grins, already heading back to where he was sitting, enjoying the fact that he's the only one that can make Regulus Black blush.

[luveline]

hi jade!!! i would love to see a poly!marauders fic where they help r fall asleep please! absolutely no pressure at all just a suggestion ofc <3

“Why so moody?” 

You rub at your eyes, standing just behind the sofa. You’d been frowning when James spotted you, not wanting to ask. “I can’t…”

“What?” Sirius asks. 

Remus perks up from beside him. 

Three sets of eyes makes it worse and somehow better. Sometimes it’s easier to only tell one of them when you have a problem, but sometimes you need all of them to know. “I can’t sleep again. Are you coming to bed soon?” 

And listen, four people in one bed is insane but occasionally you manage it. Most of the time you sleep with James, less often Remus. You and Sirius tend to be incompatible while you sleep, because he grabs you around the neck and face for hugging and you wake up with sweat pouring off of you, blind. 

Perhaps that’s why he offers first and emphatically. “I’ll come to bed with you, darling,” Sirius says, a picture of concern as he stands. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just tossed and turned for half an hour and I can’t take much more of it.” 

“She’s going insane,” Remus comments with a severe frown. 

Sirius helps him onto his feet. James, never one to be left out, turns off the television and gathers his throw blanket. “Not on my watch.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t have to get up,” you say, wringing your hands behind your back. You hadn’t meant to summon them all to bed. You’d just wanted to know when you could expect an end to your agony. 

“Oh, well,” James begins, wrapping the throw blanket around your shoulders, “too late for that. Will you warm my side for me? I’ll lock up.” 

You feel shyer than you’d thought, shuffling back to the bedroom. Sirius’ hand finds your lower back as he enters the room from behind you, encouraging you gently to the side as he goes for the other. You’d left the sheets in disarray, the lamp on. James’ room is messy as always, but it’s your fault as you live from it most days. Remus is immediately put off by the overflowing dresser, closing each drawer with a shush over the runners. 

Sirius makes the bed, peeling back a corner for you. “Here, lovely. Climb in.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to wait on me,” you say shyly, embarrassed at their attention.

“There’s nothing I like doing more.” 

“He’s in a mood,” Remus says, though you’d guessed that already. “Enough room for me, too?” 

“‘Nough room for everyone,” you murmur, rounding Sirius to climb into bed as instructed. 

You and Remus end up in the middle of the bed, thankful for James’ sense of reality —everybody knew when you moved in together that the separate bedrooms wouldn’t last, but only James had the wherewithal to buy a very large bed. You’re immediately comforted by having one of them next to you, and Remus is very kind about it, asking in a murmur if he can cwtch you, wrapping his arm around your chest like you’re in danger of breaking from his touch. 

Sirius is less polite, but not less caring. If he thought you didn’t want him to touch you he certainly wouldn’t, but he knows he can hug you pretty much whenever he wants. He presses his nose to your face, Remus’ against your shoulder, the three of you deflating after a long day never quite this close to each other. You can feel a day’s worth of back ache leeching in your mattress. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Ooh, for what?” Sirius asks. 

“Making you come to bed.” 

“Didn’t make us do anything.” His breath warms your cheek as he talks. “It’s late. We would’ve been in bed soon.” 

It’s true enough. Everyone is in their pyjamas, Sirius smells like toothpaste. Still, you feel guilty for asking. And yet… you can finally relax now they’re here. It’s like they know exactly what’s been keeping you awake. Remus had cleaned and now holds your chest, Sirius reassures you and calms your stomach with his palm. 

James gets one good look at you all and rolls his eyes. “I asked you to do one thing for me. Jesus. Babe, could you move over?” he asks Remus, not giving him the time to comply before he’s in bed and smushing everyone even closer together. “This is fun. Sleepover!” 

“Just don’t start climbing on me again, Jamie,” Remus says. 

You close your eyes. “Don’t worry, they’ll chill out soon,” Sirius promises in a whisper. 

“Kiss?” you whisper back. 

Three different boys attempt to kiss you in the dimly lit bedroom. All the fuss doesn’t help you sleep, but knowing how much they care about you definitely does. 

[pucksandpower]

Crash Course Correction

Lando Norris x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: the Austrian Grand Prix left your boyfriends less than pleased with each other, so you decide to do something about it

The tension in the air is palpable as you stride into the living room, your eyes darting between Max and Lando. They’re seated on opposite ends of the couch, arms crossed, deliberately avoiding each other’s gaze.

The aftermath of their crash at the Austrian Grand Prix still lingers, a cloud of unresolved anger and frustration hanging over them.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “Alright, boys,” you announce, your voice firm but tinged with exasperation. “This ends now.”

Max’s head snaps up, his blue eyes narrowing. “What are you on about?”

Lando, unable to resist, chimes in with a snort. “Probably about how you can’t drive for shit.”

“Me?” Max’s voice rises an octave. “You’re the one who-”

“Enough!” You cut them off, hands on your hips. “I’ve had it with this childish bickering. You two are going to sit here and work this out, or so help me, you’ll both be sleeping on this couch until you do.”

The threat hangs in the air for a moment before Lando breaks the silence. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you reply, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I love you both, but I’m not dealing with this anymore. Sort it out.”

Max leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Y/N, come on. It’s not that simple. He-”

“No excuses,” you interrupt. “Talk to each other, not to me. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” With that, you turn on your heel and march out of the room, leaving the two drivers to face each other.

For a long moment, neither speaks. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to grow louder with each passing second.

Finally, Lando breaks. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Max grunts in agreement. “Yeah, well, welcome to life with Y/N. Stubborn as hell.”

“You’re one to talk,” Lando retorts, but there’s less heat in his words now.

Max sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Look, about the race ...”

Lando tenses. “What about it?”

“I ... I might have been a bit aggressive in that turn,” Max admits grudgingly.

Lando’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit?”

“Hey, you weren’t exactly backing off either,” Max counters, but his tone is more defensive than accusatory.

Lando opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, considering. “Fair point,” he concedes after a moment. “I guess we were both pushing pretty hard.”

The admission seems to ease some of the tension in the room. Max nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? Push to the limit.”

“Yeah,” Lando agrees, a matching smile forming. “Sometimes we just ... overstep that limit.”

There’s another pause, but this one feels less strained. Max breaks it, his voice softer now. “I am sorry, you know. For how it ended up. It wasn’t what I wanted.”

Lando’s expression softens. “I know. Me too. It’s just ... frustrating, you know? We both lost out on a podium.”

Max nods emphatically. “Tell me about it. The team was not happy.”

“Christian give you an earful?” Lando asks, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Max groans. “Like you wouldn’t believe. You?”

“Zak was ... not thrilled,” Lando admits with a grimace. “But I think Andrea was even worse.”

They share a look of mutual understanding, the shared experience of team disappointment bridging the gap between them.

“You know,” Max says slowly, “maybe we should ... I don’t know, talk more? In the paddock, I mean. Try to avoid these situations.”

Lando tilts his head, considering. “Yeah, that could help. Better communication, less ... assuming the other will back off.”

“Exactly,” Max agrees, warming to the idea. “We’re both competitive as hell, but maybe we can find a way to race hard without ... well, this.”

Lando nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’d like that. It’s more fun when we’re both actually finishing the race.”

Max chuckles. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

The atmosphere in the room has shifted dramatically, the earlier tension replaced by a tentative camaraderie. They’re both quiet for a moment, processing the change.

“So,” Lando ventures, “think this counts as making up? Because I really don’t fancy sleeping on this couch. It’s not exactly built for comfort.”

Max laughs outright at that. “God, no. My back would never forgive me.” He pauses, then calls out, “Schatje? You can come back now. We’ve sorted it.”

You poke your head around the corner, eyeing them suspiciously. “Have you really? Or are you just saying that to get out of couch duty?”

Lando holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Cross my heart. We’ve had a proper talk and everything.”

You step fully into the room, your gaze moving between them. “And? What did you decide?”

Max and Lando exchange a glance before Max speaks. “We’re going to work on communicating better about what happens on the track. Try to avoid these ... incidents.”

“And off track?” You prompt, not quite satisfied.

Lando jumps in. “We’re good, love. Really. Water under the bridge and all that.”

You study them for a moment longer before your posture relaxes. “Alright, I believe you. But if I hear one more word about that crash ...”

“You won’t,” Max assures you quickly. “Promise.”

You nod, finally allowing yourself to smile. “Good. Now, who wants dinner? I’m starving.”

As you turn to head back to the kitchen, Lando calls out, “Hey, Y/N?”

You pause, looking back. “Yeah?”

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Just for the record, if we had to sleep on the couch ... would it have been together, or ...”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the laugh that escapes. “In your dreams, Norris.”

Max snorts. “As if I’d share a couch with you anyway. You kick in your sleep.”

“Oi!” Lando protests. “I’ll have you know I’m a perfect sleeping companion.”

“Sure you are,” Max teases. “That’s why Y/N always complains about your snoring.”

You decide to intervene before they can start bickering again, albeit more playfully this time. “Alright, children. Less arguing, more helping with dinner.”

They both groan dramatically but get up to follow you into the kitchen. As you start pulling out ingredients, you can’t help but smile at the easy banter now flowing between them.

“So,” Max says, leaning against the counter, “what’s for dinner?”

You shrug. “I was thinking pasta. Simple and quick.”

Lando perks up. “Ooh, can we have garlic bread too?”

“Only if you make it,” you counter, tossing him a loaf of Italian bread.

He catches it with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”

As Lando busies himself with the garlic bread and you start on the pasta sauce, Max hovers nearby, looking slightly lost.

“Don’t just stand there,” you chide gently. “Make yourself useful. Chop some vegetables or something.”

Max grimaces. “You know I’m useless in the kitchen.”

Lando laughs. “Come on, Max. Even you can’t mess up chopping vegetables. Here, I’ll show you.”

To your surprise, Max allows Lando to guide him through the process, their earlier animosity completely forgotten. You watch them with a warm feeling in your chest, grateful that your plan worked out better than you could have hoped.

As the kitchen fills with the aroma of garlic and herbs, the conversation flows easily between the three of you. Racing stories blend with personal anecdotes, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful jab.

“Remember that time in Monaco,” Lando says between giggles, “when Daniel thought it’d be a good idea to-”

“Oh God,” Max groans, but he’s smiling. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look at inflatable flamingos the same way.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

They exchange a look before answering in unison, “Probably not.”

The pasta is almost done when Max suddenly says, “You know, I’m glad we sorted this out.”

Lando nods, his expression sincere. “Me too. It’s ... nice, this. Being able to just be together without the pressure.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees softly. “Sometimes I forget we’re not just rivals, you know? We’re ... partners.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighted with meaning. You hold your breath, waiting to see how Lando will respond.

A slow smile spreads across Lando’s face. “Yeah, we are. Even if you are a pain in the arse sometimes.”

Max laughs, the sound full and genuine. “Right back at you, mate.”

You can’t help but join in their laughter, relief and happiness bubbling up inside you. This is what you’d hoped for — not just a truce, but a real reconnection.

As you all sit down to eat, the conversation continues to flow. You find yourself content to just listen, watching the way Max and Lando interact. There’s a new ease between them, a understanding that goes beyond their shared profession.

“You know,” you say during a lull in the conversation, “I’m proud of you both. For working this out.”

They both look slightly embarrassed at the praise, but pleased nonetheless.

“Well,” Lando says, a teasing lilt to his voice, “we couldn’t very well let you win, could we? Threatening us with the couch, honestly.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Max chuckles. “She’s got us there.”

As the evening winds down, you find yourself curled up on the couch between them, a movie playing on the TV. It’s some action flick that none of you are really paying attention to, too content in each other’s company.

“Hey,” Max says softly, his arm draped around your shoulders. “Thanks for this. For ... pushing us to talk.”

Lando hums in agreement from your other side. “Yeah, we can be right idiots sometimes. It’s good to have someone to knock some sense into us.”

You smile, warmth spreading through you. “That’s what I’m here for. Someone has to keep you two in line.”

They both laugh at that, the sound harmonizing in a way that makes your heart swell.

As the credits roll on the forgotten movie, you realize that this — this moment of peace and companionship — is exactly what you’d been hoping for.

It’s not always easy loving two Formula 1 drivers. The competition, the pressure, the constant travel ... it can all take its toll.

But moments like this? They make it all worthwhile.

You snuggle deeper into the couch, surrounded by the warmth of the two men you love. “So,” you say, unable to resist one last tease, “I guess you’ve both earned your bed privileges back, huh?”

Max and Lando exchange a look over your head before Max speaks. “Actually ... I was thinking maybe we could all just stay here for a bit longer. This is ... nice.”

Lando nods in agreement. “Yeah, no rush to move. Unless you want to, of course,” he adds quickly.

You smile, touched by their reluctance to end the moment. “Here is perfect,” you assure them.

As you settle in for another movie, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, that crash was a blessing in disguise. It forced a confrontation that needed to happen, cleared the air in a way that casual interaction never could.

And now, curled up between Max and Lando, their earlier rivalry forgotten in favor of shared laughter and warm companionship, you know that whatever challenges come next, you’ll face them together.

As a team.

As a family.

[starmapz]

what you know - ch10: miscalculation || r. sukuna

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

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

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

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

❦ words ; 12.5k.

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

The campus feels quieter than usual without Sukuna’s presence. It’s not as though he’s particularly loud or boisterous, he simply demands attention with his demeanor. Of course, you knew he wouldn’t be at lunch, but it doesn’t change the fact that you find yourself drifting away from the topic at hand quite frequently. Uraume, sitting in what’s usually Sukuna’s seat, finds themself nudging you every so often just so that your friends can hold your attention for a few moments.

But Shoko and Kento can only pull you aside so many times. It’s not like you’re unhappy, so they can’t be upset with you, but it doesn’t ease their concerns.

As the lunch hour ends and you snap a lid over your tupperware, you’re surprised when Toji drops a strong hand over the container, staring at you intently to stop you from getting up. Peering at him with a raised brow, you tilt your head.

“Got a minute?”

“Um- yeah,” you smile, peeking at the time on your phone. “I have a few minutes before class.”

“Great.” Toji pushes to his feet, letting you throw the container he’d held down into your bag before leading the way out into the frigid air. Your breath billows around you as you trail after Toji’s long strides. Finding a spot with an overhang, he takes a seat on a dry bench pressed against the brick of the lunch hall. It’s not warm, but at least it’s free from snow. You take a seat beside him, kicking at a pebble by your foot.

You’re thoroughly ready for winter to be over, sick of the chilly walks between classes and waiting for your car to warm up. Nothing sounds nicer right now than being able to go back to cute sundresses and shorts with a tank top, only needing to throw on a hoodie during cool mornings and nights.

Turning your attention to Toji on your right, you shoot him a curious smile. “What’s up, Toji?”

“Sorry ‘bout yesterday,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. As usual, it falls back into his face, clearly bothering him as he scowls at the feeling of raven strands tickling the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine,” you mirror his sigh. “It’s not your fault. He’s like that,” you shrug.

Toji rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no fuckin’ kidding.” He shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans back against the brick wall. His unimpressed emerald eyes train on a dripping icicle clinging to the overhang above. “Who else knows ‘bout the kids?”

You hesitate, not really sure it’s your place to say, but you also get the feeling that Toji has no intention of backing down. Toji is the emphatic version of Sukuna, with all the attitude, but lacking in stoicism. He’s far more vocal with his disdain than Sukuna usually is.

“Uraume, Shoko, and Kento know.”

“Shoko and Kento?” He parrots in disbelief. “Oh yeah, let’s tell the whole fuckin’ peanut gallery, but not Toji.” He puffs out a breath of air, rolling his eyes. “Shit, I knew the fucker didn’t care ‘bout me, but he ain’t close to them either,” he huffs, pulling his hood up over his head. “Nothin’ against y’r friends. Sometimes I just feel so fuckin’ stupid when it comes to that dumbass.”

“I get it.” You kick your heel against the packed snow at your feet, staring at the indentation left behind. “I think he still cares about you,” you offer, though there’s not much else to be said in Toji’s favor about the situation. “He’s just…”

“An asshole,” he snorts, leaning forward on his knees.

With a tight-lipped smile, you lean back against the rough bricks behind you, understanding immediately why Toji isn’t leaning back anymore. It isn’t particularly comfortable. “Was he different when you guys were kids?”

“Mmm…” Toji hums in thought, tilting his head side to side as though to say ‘somewhat’. “He’s never been a saint, but Jin kept ‘im in line. We played a lot of basketball, his kid brother liked watchin’.” Toji smiles to himself, the scar on his lip stretching. “He was always a bit more into skatin’ and art than sports, though. He had every old court tagged somewhere.”

You tilt your head curiously, engrossed in learning more. “Tagged?”

Toji smirks, tilting his head to get a better look at you. “Graffiti.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widen, glimmering as you learn more about a younger Sukuna, before he became so jaded. “Was he always quiet?”

“Nah. Wouldn’t say he was chatty, but he wasn’t so tough to have a conversation with. He was always draggin’ me along to some new place he wanted t’ paint,” Toji gruffs, raising a hand to his chin to scratch at faint stubble. “Always thought it was weird he just stopped wantin’ to do anything. Guess I know why now,” he sighs, idly moving to pick at his nails, which are already fairly destroyed.

“I’m really sorry, Toji. It sounded like Jin meant a lot to you.”

With a long, deep inhale, Toji nods. “Yeah. Yeah, he did. Always will.” He swallows hard, harshly rubbing his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was about to cry. He doesn’t seem like he’s the type to cry often, but if Jin was as much of a father to him as he’d made it sound, you can only imagine he’s more beat up than he’s letting on.

The raven-haired man lets his hair drape over his face as he leans on his knees, his gaze glued to the ground. You’re keen enough to notice that it seems like he’s attempting to mask how upset he truly is, but you don’t know him well enough to offer much more than words of sympathy.

“I always wondered what happened f’r him to change so much. God-��� Toji shakes his head, rubbing his face against the back of his forearm. “He’s such a fuckin’ prick. I knew Jin got sick but I never thought-”

Whether his voice breaks or he cuts himself off, you aren’t sure. With your brow drawn together as you listen intently, all you can do is watch as he turns his head away.

Toji clears his throat, his gaze kept firmly on the ground. “Did you talk to ‘im after I left?”

“A bit. He told me you guys didn’t talk about that sort of stuff when I asked why he didn’t tell you.”

Toji shoots you a look of utter disbelief, his lip curling in frustration as he narrows his gaze. You see now that his eyes have a red sheen to them. “That was his excuse?”

With a tight-lipped smile, you shrug.

“Christ,” he groans. “What a dumbass. Guess Jin takin’ me in every time I got kicked out didn’t mean anything to ‘im.”

You chew on your lip, uncertain of how to answer that. Clearly things are a bit more gray than how Sukuna considered their friendship, but you can’t exactly say where you stand when it comes to being in the middle of them. Toji’s unequivocally in the right to be every bit frustrated with Sukuna, but you hardly know the man.

Sighing, Toji pulls his phone from his pocket, getting to his feet. “I gotta get to class. Thanks for this.”

“Sounds good!” You get to your feet as well, getting ready to make your way to class. “Oh-! Um, Toji?”

The raven-haired man doesn’t say anything, turning to face you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and a look of mild discontentment. You pull your bag strap up over your shoulder, clinging to it tightly.

“Please don’t give up on him. He needs the help.”

Toji’s sharp gaze flickers between yours, examining the curl of your brow as you hopefully fiddle with the fabric beneath your fingertips.

Blowing out a breath of air from his nose, he shoots you a half-hearted smirk before turning to walk towards his class with a wave.

You pray to whoever will listen that that’s Toji’s version of saying he’ll hear you out.

–

The past week after your chat with Toji has not been kind to you, and as you wait for Sukuna to open his door late in the evening, you find yourself just about ready to pass out. You want to lean your head on the door and let sleep take you right then and there, but at least you can get some rest soon- even if it will be strange falling asleep in a foreign environment- Sukuna’s apartment.

As Sukuna swings the door open, clad in his blue polo that looks painfully out of place on his bulky form, you can tell he’s as gassed as you are. His eyes travel the length of your body, something that makes you blush more than you maybe should, as you know he’s just evaluating that you’ve had as long of a day as he has, based on the business attire beneath your jacket.

Still, his eyes linger on the pencil skirt just long enough that you think you’re fooling yourself.

Swallowing, you smile as you push past him without a word, catching even Sukuna off-guard as your usual sunny disposition is replaced with a yawn and a drag of your feet. He shuts the door, trailing behind you and catching your gaze where your dark circles are just as apparent as his.

“If I’m askin’ too much of you-”

“I’m fine, Kuna,” you yawn, using your sleeve to cover it before shrugging the coat off. Setting it on the back of the couch, you tilt your head with a mild smile. “Just tired.”

“Mm.” Sukuna idly hums, raising the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Are you-? Stop it, I’m not sick.” You swat his hand away, sticking out your bottom lip dramatically.

Sukuna’s chest rumbles in a low chuckle. “Alright, alright. Just lookin’ out for ya.”

Hugging your arms around yourself, you plop down on the couch behind Yuji and Choso, who are sitting on the floor in front of your old GameCube as they contemplate what game to play for their last couple of hours before you have them get ready for bed. You frown at the sight of Choso, who seems to languidly agree with anything Yuji chooses.

Sukuna leans over the back of the couch by your shoulder, holding himself up on his forearms. “That Animal Crossing game you left here, it had a memory card in the case, they found your file.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, “you called yourself ‘Flower’.”

Giggling, you tilt your head to better see him. “Really?”

“Mhm. You were dressed in all pink with little pigtails.”

“That… Sounds about right,” you grin, unable to help it as you continue giggling at the thought. “I stopped playing because one of the cat villagers made me cry. My mom took the game away and I didn’t find it again until I moved out.”

Sukuna’s lips purse as he stares at you. “A cat made you cry?”

“They were mean in that game!”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Sure they were, flower.”

“I’m begging you not to call me that,” you whine.

“Dunno, it kinda fits,” he hums impishly, giving your shoulder a nudge. He’s so close that his breath tickles your neck.

You shove his bicep in return, catching him off-guard just enough to have him stumbling to keep himself upright. He chuckles to himself, standing straight and stretching his arms over his head. Your eyes trail down to the way the shirt rides up, revealing his toned abdomen and- oh god stop thinking about his salmon-toned happy trail. Tearing your gaze away, you stare at the pile of games on the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Sukuna relents with a chuckle, your wandering eyes going unnoticed. “Washed the sheets for ya, you know where everything else is.”

You hum, nodding your head along gratefully. 

“Tired, princess?”

You nod again, yawning as you’re reminded of your drowsiness. “Yeah, I was shadowing all day. It’s stressful.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he shuffles around behind you, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge to toss into his work bag.

“Mhm. My co-worker was practically drilling me with questions all day.”

“I’m sure ya did good,” he grunts, taking a final look around the apartment. There’s something strange about leaving at nine at night rather than three or four, but the sight of you, with a tired, albeit content expression, curled into the corner of his couch in your work attire seems to light something within him.

His stomach churns uncomfortably, as though something is trying to break free from his gut. He brings a hand up to scratch beneath the polo, telling himself it’s just the material of the shirt, but he can’t deny the way he can’t seem to tear his gaze from you. Your attention is on Yuji and Choso, your arms wrapped around yourself and legs pulled up onto the couch in the comfiest fashion you can manage with a pencil skirt on.

He clears his throat, dragging a hand down his face. Christ, he’s tired too. It’ll be a long night.

Making his way to the door, he casts a glance at his brothers before fixing you with his stare. “I’ll see ya in the morning. Let me know if you need anything.”

You tilt your head briefly given that you’ve never been able to contact him at work, before your eyes light up with realization. “I can text you now!” You gasp excitedly.

“Don’t make a habit of it,” Sukuna grumbles as he closes and locks the door behind him.

Unfortunately for him, you would make a habit of it.

For now though, you turn your attention to the boys, stifling a yawn. “If you two choose something multiplayer, I’ll join you.”

Now at the center of the kids’ attention, you can see the way Yuji’s eyes light up instantly, while Choso’s reaction is far more subtle. His hands still, no longer occupied with a button on his deep purple plaid shirt sleeve. It’s hardly worth calling progress, but it’s a sign he finds comfort in your presence, and you’ll take that.

Yuji flips a couple of games over, separating any that allow three players before he’s left with Super Smash Bros. Melee, Mario Party 6, Ribbit King, and MarioKart.

“What’s this?” He asks, holding up the case for Ribbit King to you.

“That’s a golf game,” you explain, “with frogs instead of balls. Frog golf.”

“Frolf!” Yuji exclaims with a grin. You catch a glimmer of amusement in Choso’s expression as he shares a more subdued version of his brother’s sentiment.

Popping the disc into the system, you slide off the couch onto the ground, where both kids join you as you lean against the couch. Yuji immediately leans into you, holding the orange controller that’s become his favorite since you’d left the system at their house.

As the game boots up and you each choose your characters and frogs, it takes only a moment before the boys have a decent grasp on the mechanics. Falling into competitive banter with Yuji comes fairly easily, and to your delight, every so often even Choso chimes in.

Yuji pulls ahead fairly handily before you know it, leaving you and Choso to compete for second place. After a close competition, the middle brother manages to just barely pull ahead of you in points, leaving you in last place. As the podium pops onto the screen and your penguin character dips its head in defeat, Yuji bounds up excitedly before hopping into your lap.

With a brief oof at the force that Yuji uses to collapses against you, you find yourself giggling at the boy’s glee.

It doesn’t matter how tired you are, Yuji is a bundle of joy and his happiness is infectious. You pull Choso into the hug, praying the happiness is infectious to him as well. He may not display the same jovial expression that you or Yuji do, but he does hug you both back with enough force that tells you that if nothing else, he appreciates the effort to include him.

“Good job Yu, you make a good golfer,” you pat his back lightly.

He pulls back with a pointed stare. “Frolfer.”

Amused, you blow a puff of air through your nose. “Right. Frolfer.” Yuji pushes himself to his feet, plopping down in front of the stack of games again. His little hands flip each case as he examines them. “Did you want to play something else?” You query, watching Choso carefully as he slips back into his spot beside you with a distant expression.

“I wanna play what Cho wants to play!” Yuji insists, a hopeful expression crossing his face.

Your lips part at what would usually be a kind action from a little brother, but the context behind his words makes it feel more like pleading. A hopeful action to bring his older brother back, even if only for a moment.

Choso’s sullen gaze trails slowly from Yuji to the pile of games, lingering on the stack. When the moment draws on a second too long, the little boy deflates.

“Cho?” Yuji leans forward on his knees, staring down sadly at the pile of games. His thumbs smooth over the case in his hands, before he sets it aside and drags himself across the floor until he’s seated on his knees in front of his older brother.

With a frown that mirrors Yuji’s, you set a hand on Choso’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you wanna talk, Choso?” You try to encourage him, pulling him from whatever stupor he was trapped within. There may be fleeting moments of amusement or appreciation here and there, but the young boy rarely seems present.

Choso rubs his nose with the back of his hand, blinking at the stack of cases on the floor. “Um- whatever Yuji wants is-”

“I wanna play what you wanna play,” Yuji pouts, his tone now laced with desperation as he drags the stack of games towards his big brother. His lip wobbles as he holds up a Sonic game, to be met only with indifference. He blinks away tears, setting the case down, only to hold up a Mario game. Met with the same indifference, his whole body trembles.

You swear it all happens in the blink of an eye.

At the sight of the Yuji’s trembling hands and wide-eyed expression, Choso scrambles to keep his brother happy, stammering over words as he attempts to sate his brother’s sadness, but it’s too late. Yuji bursts into sobs, crying loudly about missing his brothers, which in turn causes Choso to pull his knees into himself, hiding the silent tears that fall down his face as well as guilt swirls in his eyes.

You scramble to pick up the pieces as quickly as possible, wrapping an arm around Yuji and pulling him into a tight hug. You attempt to do the same for Choso, but he stiffens to prevent you from doing so. Recognizing that he doesn’t want or need the same attention as Yuji, you opt for simply sitting beside him with Yuji in your lap.

You’ve noticed Choso tends to prefer talking things out, and in all honesty you think all three of the brothers could use a could talk. That’s a tough sell with Sukuna though, so you’ll settle for two out of three.

You soothingly hush Yuji, rubbing his back gently as he clings to you, no doubt staining your dress shirt in tears and snot. You’d likely need a trip to the laundromat for it, but it hardly matters when your heart squeezes at the melancholic sobs that fill the air.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” you coo softly, eyeing Choso to make sure he’s not getting any worse either. You suck in a deep breath to soothe your own nerves, giving Yuji a reassuring squeeze as his sobs slowly begin to die down.

Once the apartment is filled only with sniffles and not sobs, you gently place Yuji on the ground beside Choso, who looks up at you for reassurance. You force your best smile, patting his back softly before turning to Choso.

From what you can tell, his tears are dried and he’s simply staring blankly at his arms curled around his knees now.

“Yuji, have you told your brother how you feel?” You ask softly. Choso’s head raises slightly as he listens to you.

Yuji shakes his head through silent tears.

“It’s important to communicate how we’re feeling when something’s wrong,” you tell him with a small smile, motioning towards Choso. “Why don’t you tell Choso?”

Choso’s auburn gaze flickers between you and Yuji, waiting as his little brother’s face scrunches up into an expression fitting of a five-year-old deep in thought.

Once he’s decided on his words, he looks up at his brother with teary eyes, his little hands fiddling with the game case on the floor in front of him. “I miss you, Cho. You never wanna play with me anymore.” Yuji mumbles, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand.

Choso sniffles, raising his head. “I’m sorry, Yu.” He curls into himself further if that’s even possible, guilt pulling his face into a scowl reminiscent of Sukuna. It’s easy to forget those two are related until Choso mirrors one of Sukuna’s expressions so perfectly.

“Do you wanna tell your brother what’s going on, Choso?” You encourage him, setting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Um-” Choso buries his face into his arms, his brows pulled together so tightly you’re certain he’s giving himself a headache. “I don’t feel very good,” he admits, his words muffled against the sleeves of his shirt.

“You’re sick?” Yuji tilts his head in confusion.

Choso shakes his head. “I’m…” he pauses, glancing up at you. “Scared,” he admits.

“Why?” Yuji wastes no time in demanding answers, shuffling closer on his knees to Choso.

“I don’t wanna lose Kuna,” Choso admits, leaning his face into his shoulder to wipe a tear that rolls down his cheek.

“But we won’t,” Yuji pulls himself forward over the hardwood again, tugging at his brother’s arm lightly. “Kuna never loses. He’s the best.”

You can’t help but smile at Yuji’s confidence, which seems to encourage Choso, even if only a little bit. Choso lifts his head, blinking in thought at the pink-haired little boy. Even with a face covered in tears and snot, it’s hard not to believe every word the pink-haired kid says.

As Yuji continues tugging at Choso’s arm, the brunette finally relents, letting his brother tug him into a hug. When Choso pulls back, he slumps against the couch again, a hint of life breathed back into him.

“It’s okay to be sad, Choso, but it’s important to talk about your feelings to others like you do with me,” you encourage him with an understanding smile.

Choso swallows hard, nodding slowly. He blinks at the ground, doing somewhat of a mental reset, before he points at the stack of games with a sniffle. “Let’s play Mario Party.”

Yuji’s eyes light up as he sets up the game while Choso wipes the tears from his face.

“I’m proud of you, Choso. It takes courage to talk about your feelings.”

Choso shoots you a half-hearted smile with tired eyes, serving as a reminder of just how worn out you all are.

“One short game and then it’s bedtime, okay boys?”

“Okaaaaay,” Yuji agrees, though his expression mirrors the exhaustion across Choso’s. The crying had clearly tired them both out, and while normally you would have them go to bed right away, you’re pretty sure they need a fun game before bed.

While the boys play games, you get up to change into an oversized tee that’s free of tears and a pair of shorts, grabbing a tissue and wiping Yuji’s face, much to his dismay as he groans and complains the whole time.

Planting yourself back on the couch, you pull up Sukuna’s contact, and shoot him a text.

Thursday 9:42 PM - You || hey, not urgent but wanted to let you know what happened!

Thursday 9:43 PM - You || the boys had a bit of a meltdown because choso’s been so quiet, but i think everything’s okay now

You lock your phone and set it in your lap as you turn your attention to the screen. Choso’s still clearly down and not himself, but you can see the effort going into giving Yuji the sense of normalcy he’s desperate for. Although you can see Choso’s needing to force himself out of his shell, you’re reassured that this is good for him when for the first time in what feels like ages, he laughs.

Your lips quirk up into a genuine smile at the sight of Choso’s sleepy grin, just as your phone vibrates in your lap.

Thursday 9:59 PM - Kuna || okay. let me know if they give you more trouble

Thursday 9:59 PM - You || i can handle them, no worries! :)

With the game coming to a close and no meltdowns even as Yuji steals Choso’s stars in the game at the last second and pulls off a win, you urge them to get ready for bed. Neither boy had given you a hard time as Yuji tended to, far too worn out from the emotional day to protest.

With the boys in bed, you set your overnight bag down on the washroom counter and lean over the sink, fairly worn out yourself. You can see the effects of the day on your face, dark circles under your eyes and makeup in disarray, having been done well over fifteen hours ago.

So much for the twenty-four-hour long-lasting guarantee they promise. What a lie.

Dragging your hands over your face, you lean on the edge of the sink, letting the seconds tick by as you grapple with your own emotions.

You spend so much time treading carefully around the three boys in an attempt to help them as best as you’re able that sometimes you forget to check in with yourself mentally. Between Sukuna’s increasing snappiness and the two boys learning to handle their fear, grief, and concern, you’ve hardly had a moment to yourself. That’s not even beginning to mention classes, studying, and your internship.

You can only pray the bubble doesn’t pop. You need to keep up being strong until the court date, then you can relax.

Once that’s over, you’re certain things will be alright.

Giving yourself a moment to reset and take a breather, you slow down as you dig into your bag and handle your skincare and hair routines, taking a moment to indulge in the self care of it all. It’s refreshing and allows you a moment of peace, a moment to simply be and take care of yourself, something you can’t help but feel you’ve neglected to do as of late.

As you finish up your hair routine, you open the pocket where your toothbrush should be, only to come up short. Blinking, you dig through your bag in search of it, when you realize where it is.

On the counter.

At your own apartment.

Quietly groaning, you pull out your phone again.

Thursday 10:46 PM - You || hey kuna?

Whether he’s on his break or just has his phone on him, you’re not sure, but he answers quickly.

Thursday 10:48 PM - Kuna || what now

Thursday 10:48 PM - You || i forgot my toothbrush :( do you have an extra?

Thursday 10:49 PM - Kuna || no

Thursday 10:49 PM - Kuna || dont fucking touch mine

Thursday 10:49 PM - You || rude

Thursday 10:50 PM - Kuna || use your finger

Thursday 10:50 PM - You || :(

Frowning at your options, you tap your fingers on the washroom counter in thought.

Thursday 10:51 PM - You || do you have mouthwash?

Thursday 10:53 PM - Kuna || you know im working right

Thursday 10:53 PM - Kuna || under the sink

Thursday 10:53 PM - You || thank you!!

Opening the cupboard beneath the sink, your eyes scan the mess of shampoos, aftershave, replacement razor heads and various other hygiene products. Off to one side, you spot some mouthwash and a bag from a dentist with a toothbrush concealed within, brand new.

And it’s pink. Cute!

Thursday 10:55 PM - You || i found a toothbrush under the sink, can i use it? i’ll pay you back!

Thursday 10:55 PM - Kuna || whatever

Under the assumption that means he doesn’t really care one way or the other, you crack open the packaging, relieved that you won’t need to quickly run to your apartment in the morning before class. There is no way in hell you could go without a toothbrush for that long.

Dumping your belongings back into your bag, you push into Sukuna’s room, taking a look around. It’s not like you haven’t been here before, but it has a different feel now that you’ll be sleeping here. Taking a step into the room, you stare at the papers strewn across his drawing table.

Anatomy practice makes up most of what litters the table, alongside pencils and a tin of charcoal, but what really catches your eye are sketches of random characters, mostly from video games you recognize. Your lips quirk into a small smile as you spot a small glimpse of color and can just barely make out a red shoe. It must be the drawing that Yuji colored the other day, and Sukuna is still working on the second half of it. It warms your heart that in his spare time, he still finds little ways to take care of his brothers.

For all his complaining, he loves them very dearly.

Pulling your gaze from the drawings, you take slow steps to the edge of his bed, taking a seat on the mattress. You’ve never really considered the comfort of his bed until this moment, but it’s fairly plush and his sheets are cozy as you run your hands beneath the covers. It’s also massive, but you can’t imagine your double bed would fit someone of his height.

Not that you should be thinking about that.

You know he welcomed you to sleep in his room, insisted on it, but a part of you can’t help but feel like you’re invading his space. Yet somehow, as you settle under the covers and stare at the ceiling, it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as you thought it might. There’s some part of you, deep down, that feels like this is what you want. Some selfish part of you that wants to feel like you belong here.

But it’s not your place to feel that way, and that feeling tugs at your lips, pulling them into a frown.

It’s a strange feeling to sleep in a bed that isn’t yours, owned by someone you can’t give your heart to. It leaves you with a sensation like static settling into your chest as you aren’t quite sure what to do with your thoughts.

Turning to your side, you pick up your phone, plug it into Sukuna’s charger, and send him one last message.

Thursday 11:12 PM - You || night, kuna!

You aren’t sure whether you send it in an attempt to comfort yourself, or if maybe it’s a sad attempt to find affection where there is none.

Regardless, all you can do is set your phone back down on the table and try to ignore the way the whole room smells painfully like him.

Thursday 11:58 PM - Kuna || night princess

–

Your alarm blares in your ear at the crack of dawn. You shoot your hand out to grab it before it can accidentally wake the kids, squinting at the time.

You may have set the alarm with your first class at eight thirty in the morning in mind, but seven still feels too early. Yawning, you scroll through your social media in an attempt to find any semblance of wakefulness before finally making your way out of Sukuna’s room. You’re about to make your way to the washroom, when the sound of a video-game-y groan in the living room catches your attention.

Padding quietly back down the hall, you peek around the corner, spotting Sukuna lounged at his full length across the couch, his legs hanging over the edge. He’s in his work khakis, but his shirt is laid on the back of the couch, a GameCube controller in hand as he plays Super Smash Bros. Melee.

Oh, it is too fucking early for this.

Your mouth goes dry as you try painfully hard to keep your attention on Sukuna’s face, and not his sculpted and tattooed abs.

“Morning,” you greet him with a groggy smile.

He pauses the game, equally drowsy eyes darting up to you. Unlike you, Sukuna is exhausted, has been awake for over twenty four hours at this point, and you’re startlingly hot in casual clothing. He’s used to seeing you in short skirts and tights, a cozy sweater adorning your top half, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen you in casual clothes before.

But Sukuna is too sleep-deprived to come up with a time he’s seen you in casual clothes.

A baggy shirt hangs down your frame, stopping barely in time for Sukuna to see that you’re wearing a pair of shorts. He swears his brain fizzles out as he steals a glance at your legs, and he has to tear his gaze away to meet your eyes again.

“Hm?”

Your lips part, cheeks hot as you watch his eyes trail down the length of you. He’s probably just judging the oversized shirt with Kiki’s Delivery Service on it, but his sharp gaze never fails to warm your cheeks.

“I just said ‘morning’,” you quietly repeat with a small smile.

He hums, peeling his eyes from you and unpausing the game. “Morning.”

“How was your shift?”

“Other than you annoying me, it was fine,” he grumbles, shooting you a sideways glance to gauge your reaction. He smirks when he finds you pouting.

“Well, your bed’s all yours-”

“All good, princess. I’m takin’ the kids to school at eight and got class at nine.”

Your brow raises. “You haven’t slept,” you point out.

He shrugs, his character tossing the enemy Bowser off a platform as he continues playing games. “I’ll live.”

You frown, but you know him well enough to know he won’t budge once he’s made his mind up.

“What happened last night?” He queries, his eyes still glued to the screen. You don’t need to know the video game is the only thing keeping his attention away from your bare thighs.

With a sigh, you round the couch, sitting on the edge of the cushion opposite his head. With his feet dangling off the edge of the couch, your back presses just barely against his calves and he finds himself stealing a glance at you, your expression forlorn.

“Yuji asked Choso what he wanted to play, but Cho’s been pretty out of it lately and didn’t really care-” you pause, putting a bit more weight against Sukuna’s legs as you lean back slightly when you look at him. Sighing, you shake your head. “Yuji got pretty upset that Choso hasn’t been himself lately and hasn’t wanted to play,” you continue, “whiiiiich lead to tears, sobs, the whole nine yards.”

Sukuna pauses his game, draping his arm over his eyes with a quiet groan. “‘Course it did,” he grumbles, yawning. “How’d that go?”

“I got them to talk it out, I think everything’s alright. They were laughing and playing games when you texted back.”

Sukuna hums, rubbing his face against the back of his forearm. “Figured that would happen eventually,” he manages between another yawn, lifting his arm to push a hand through his disheveled hair. A few strands fall over his forehead, so long now that they nearly block his vision.

“Yeah,” you agree with him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Honestly, Yuji’s been pretty patient with Choso, I’m surprised it took this long.”

“He’s a good kid.” Sukuna barely shrugs, his groggy gaze finally fixing on you. He can’t say for sure what’s come over him and if he was in his right mind, he’s sure he’d brush it off as exhaustion normally, but he finds himself admiring the way your hair falls naturally to frame your face.

In fact, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you without makeup, but you seem almost radiant, and that thought alone has him spiraling into territory that’s beyond unknown to him.

He bristles at his own thoughts, an unfamiliar feeling creeping up his spine. As though fighting a battle against himself, he pulls his feet from behind you and sits up, leaning forward on his knees. Clearing his throat, he gives you a dismissive wave of his hand.

“You should go get ready.”

“Hm? Oh, right!” Hopping to your feet, you bound off to the washroom to take a shower, leaving Sukuna to grapple with his thoughts alone.

You’re forced to leave your hair to air-dry without a blow dryer or any styling products, but at least you have a toothbrush. Opening the door once you’ve finished getting ready, Yuji makes his way past you towards the kitchen with a grin and his basketball in hand. His oldest brother is trailing after him sluggishly with a hoodie that he’s attempting to get over the little boy’s head.

The five-year-old happily dribbles the ball a couple of times as he eludes Sukuna’s grasp on his way to the kitchen.

“Yuji, it’s too early for that. Our neighbors’ll have my head if you make noise,” Sukuna scolds as he uses his wide gait to step in front of his little brother and grab the ball in one big hand.

Yuji jumps at his leg as though the little amount of height his jump covers is what he needs to get his basketball back, whining at the tall man to give it back.

“No. Oatmeal’s on the table. Go eat,” he guides the little boy towards the kitchen, scratching at his jaw as he catches a glance at you.

You’re back in your usual attire, a tight tank top hugging your top with a long cardigan draped over your shoulders and light jeans adorning your lower half. You’re hardly dressed up, yet Sukuna still feels underdressed in a red hoodie and baggy black sweatpants, with a beanie covering his obviously disheveled hair.

You look cute.

Whether he’s too tired to fight that thought, or he’s simply grown accustomed to it, he doesn’t mind thinking of you in such a way.

“Need a hand?” You ask cheerily, glancing at your phone before dropping it into your pathetic excuse for a jean pocket. “I have a few minutes before I need to go.”

“Nah, I got it,” he gruffs, tilting his chin towards the kitchen. “I, uh, made you some breakfast.”

Your eyes widen as you curiously bound towards the kitchen counter, where there’s a bowl with oats, fruit, and yogurt sitting on the counter. Your eyes light up as you grab it and turn back to Sukuna.

“This is for me?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s so sweet, thanks Kuna!”

He hums, a hint of a smirk giving away his satisfaction. Choso makes his way slowly to the table to eat his dinosaur oatmeal, his usual void stare plastered across his face. After last night, you had honestly hoped maybe he would bounce back, but progress is often slow. Maybe he’ll come around.

Sukuna trails over to the kitchen counter alongside you, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the vinyl countertop. You follow suit as you spoon some yogurt into your mouth, your elbow brushing Sukuna’s arm as he watches over the three of you.

There’s something strangely domestic about the whole situation that seems to tighten your throat as you force another spoonful of yogurt down. It tastes great, but the thought of a life like this with Sukuna is bitter on your tongue. This moment, to you, feels like a glimpse at something real, something substantial, while it’s likely nothing more than a fleeting thought to Sukuna.

Spooning another mouthful of yogurt into your mouth, you tilt your head to catch a glance at his expression. You shouldn’t be surprised to find he’s drifting off, eyes glazed. His eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, but there’s no room for a nap, so he’ll just deal with it.

Turning to the sink to rinse your bowl once you’ve finished, you check the time and bid the kids a farewell, nudging Sukuna to make sure he’s awake. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

He nods, only managing a yawn as you make your way out the door.

–

Really, it shouldn’t surprise you that Sukuna slept through lunch. And your Literature History class, for that matter.

But your professor is clearly less than pleased when her grimace lands on him in the middle of the lecture. You nudge Sukuna awake, who blearily lifts his head, pushing his hood up to see why you’re bothering him. The sight of a frustrated professor doesn’t mean much to someone running on an hour of sleep (on tables, mind you), so he simply drops his chin back down onto his arms, pushes his hood back down, and shuts his eyes again.

Well, that was the wrong move.

You nudge Sukuna awake for the second time when the lecture ends, only for the professor to call both of your names in a stern tone. With a frustrated huff, he trudges down the steps and stands before her desk. You shuffle from side to side on your feet, glancing between him and the professor with an anxious frown.

The last thing you need is to be on bad terms with a professor given your scholarship.

“Mr. Sukuna. Glad you could join us after being absent for nine days,” the professor begins in an unimpressed tone. She takes a seat at her desk, motioning to both of you to grab a couple of chairs from the side of the room. Sukuna is too busy scowling at the woman to listen, so you gently tug him down into one of the chairs you drag over.

“Some of us got shit to handle,” he explains in the broadest terms possible.

“I understand that, and while attendance is not expected, I would advise with your grades sitting where they are that you do attend.”

Sukuna grinds his jaw at your side and you swear you can hear the enamel of his teeth wearing down with the force of the pressure.

“That’s not to mention that when you do show up, you sleep through the lecture,” she grimly continues, clasping her hands as she leans over the desk. Her graying blonde hair falls over her shoulders as she frowns.

“I can’t make that shit happen right-”

“Language, Mr. Sukuna.”

Sukuna shuts his eyes in a futile attempt to contain his anger. “I can’t make that happen right now,” he huffs, sharp eyes locking onto the professor. “I show up for tests and turn in papers. What more do ya want?”

This isn’t the first time he’s been pulled aside by a professor, but this is the first time in a long time that he’s been doing poorly in a class. He knows his last paper was half-assed. He knows his last test results barely skirted by.

“You need to apply yourself.” When Sukuna doesn’t reply, smoke practically blowing from his ears at the professor’s words, she continues, turning her attention to address you. “I’d like you to tutor Ryomen. You will receive extra credit,” she tells you, turning back to him, “and so long as I see an improvement in your grades, I won’t say a word about your attendance.”

The offer works well in your favor, why wouldn’t you want extra credit? Plus, you already see Sukuna enough that it wouldn’t change too much about your schedule.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is beyond pissed.

On a good day, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestion and brushed it off, but on one hour of sleep, the history major isn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of being put in his place. Especially not in front of you, someone he holds a great deal of care for.

“I’m managing just fine, I don’t need to be tutored,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes, reddened from a lack of sleep.

The professor grimaces, her gaze flickering between you both. “You’re hardly passing,” she states plainly. “I’m not going to sugar coat things, Ryomen. You’re on your last legs in this class, and I will fail you if you don’t pass the test next Friday.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t need a tutor,” he growls, clutching at the arm of the chair with white knuckles.

“It’s not a huge deal, Sukuna, I can-”

“No,” he shoots you a pointed glare, pinning you to the seat. You bite the inside of your cheek, falling back into uncomfortable silence.

Unimpressed, the professor sits up a bit straighter as if to assert her authority over the situation. “This isn’t up for discussion, Mr. Suku-”

“Like hell it isn’t!” He snarls. “I’ll pass, you fuckin’ got that?” He stands abruptly, his chair screeching as it’s pushed back suddenly. With narrowed eyes, his fiery irises seem to consume him, his pupils mere pinpricks. The professor grimaces, unphased by his defiance, but her lack of reply only serves to piss Sukuna off further as he scoffs in frustration and barges out the door without another word, hands shoved in his pockets in search of his cigarettes.

The sound of the door slamming on its hinges echoes across the lecture hall as you shut your eyes, pressing your lips into a thin line.

The professor sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry to get you involved,” she apologizes with a wry smile. “I thought you two were close, and that maybe he wouldn’t be opposed to a tutoring session with you.”

“We are close,” you chuckle half-heartedly, staring down at your lap. “He- um- he’s going through a bit of a tough time, I don’t think he meant anything personally.”

The professor fixes you with her deep brown gaze, leaning back in her chair. “I see. Has he spoken to the faculty about this? He could get some assistance-”

You laugh nervously at the mere mention of help. “Believe me, if it were that simple, I would have suggested it by now.”

The professor taps her fingers along her forearm in thought, finally nodding. “I see. Well, if you’re able to step in, I would appreciate that. If not, I’m not sure what other options I have.” She shrugs. “There’s nothing I can do at the rate his grades are plummeting.”

“Is it just this class?” You ask meekly, brow drawn into a tight knit as you dread her answer.

“I can’t say,” she tells you, sympathy laced into her tone. “He’s a bright student, but it’s become clear over the past couple of weeks that he’s not here to learn.”

“Right,” you whisper, staring down at your manicured nails, a chip in the polish catching your attention. “I’ll do what I can.”

“I appreciate that,” she says with a sense of finality, grabbing a pen to begin grading some papers. You take that as your dismissal, gathering your belongings to make your way out the door. “Oh-” the professor calls your name before you push outside. “Please remind Mr. Sukuna that this class is a requirement for his major, and if he fails this next test, he will be retaking my class next semester.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

–

Had you known that was the last you would hear of your hot-headed friend until the afternoon before the test, you would have tried harder to get a hold of him.

Which is saying a lot, given that you emailed, and texted, and called incessantly.

Your only sense of reassurance was Uraume letting you know that they had run into him clad in his coveralls while Uraume was headed to campus one morning. They’d mentioned that he was taking shifts throughout the mornings to make sure he didn’t need to rely on anyone but himself. He would simply work only while his brothers were in school.

For every step forward, Sukuna takes two backwards. And this time, it seemed he was drowning in the guilt of just how much he owed you, not even bothering to respond to your texts either.

Unfortunately, along with the news that Uraume had relayed to you, came the news that he hadn’t been to a single class since the not-so-friendly run-in with the professor.

Which, as it would turn out, was the first of many impromptu meetings that you would have with her. The Wednesday before the test, you’d practically jumped out of your skin as she stopped you before you could make it out the door. 

The look on her face didn’t ease your nerves as she waited for the students to file out of the lecture hall.

“Will you please remind Ryomen that if he doesn’t show up to the test on Friday, I’m failing him?” She speaks gravely, an air of deathly sincerity surrounding her.

You had swallowed hard, assuring her that you would make sure he knew, slipping away with a shiver up your spine.

While you knew she’d be talking to you about your friend, you couldn’t help but feel like she would have had some sort of comment about your messy notes, your distracted gaze, or the inattentive tapping of your nails over the keyboard.

But then again, she couldn’t see your notes, so she didn’t know that your mind had been fixated on your concern for your friend all week. Your notes were the proof of it, words hardly making a lick of sense, and you knew it would come back to bite you in the ass. Still, every trail of thoughts leads back to the delinquent student.

You know Sukuna is likely only upset with life in general, but that shouldn’t make it fair for him to ignore you.

Or maybe you’re too in love with someone too incapable of reciprocating, and nothing feels fair to your fragile heart.

That series of events all lead to you standing at his door now, your fist raised to knock on the door. If he wouldn’t reply to your texts about the test tomorrow, you wanted to make sure he knew this was a death sentence for his semester should he choose to not show up.

That, and you want to make sure he’s okay.

Still, you hesitate as your heart pounds. One of his neighbors had let you into the building, so you hadn’t needed to buzz up to the apartment, and he had no clue you were showing up.

Swallowing your nerves, you rap your knuckles against the door, patiently waiting for him and praying he’s home at all. To your relief, it only takes a couple of moments before you find yourself face to face with the source of your racing heart.

With a bottle clutched in one hand, he opens the door with a mild expression, tilting his head down to look at you as he leans against the doorframe. A muscle shirt adorns his top, his broad shoulders and bulky arms on full display, along with what might be the sluttiest cut hand-cut armholes you’ve ever seen on a shirt, dipping down to his waist. His abs peek out from the way the material of the shirt curls inwards at the bottom and his hair hangs loosely over his forehead, long enough that a stray strand nearly reaches his eyes.

“Hey, princess,” he gruffs, heavily lidded eyes doing a languid once-over of your outfit, your usual business attire since you’d come straight from your internship. Heat creeps up your neck as it always does under his intense gaze. “How was work?”

“Hey, um- it was good,” you smooth your skirt down, chewing on your lip as you look up at him through your lashes. Your brow is knit with concern, but Sukuna is so fixated on the pretty way you chew on your lip that he doesn’t notice your concern. “Is everything okay? You stopped answering me.”

His expression hardens at your question, his gaze now fixated on the woven bracelets still tightly tied around his wrist. He stares hard at the red and black checkered bracelet that’s tied around his wrist alongside a matching black and purple one. He can just barely make out the pair of bracelets still secured around your own wrist as well.

“Yeah,” he forces out a reply to your question, his mind moving slower than he’d like. He continues his little staring contest with your coat sleeve, his brow furrowed deeply as he searches for an answer to why he stopped responding, but all he finds are failures.

It seems as though that’s a trend with him lately, as though letting people down is his thing.

“Didn’t wanna bother you,” he finally spits out, a meager excuse for his shortcomings that clearly confuses you as you tilt your head.

“You know you could never bother me,” you point out. “So what’s this really about?”

Sukuna sighs, bringing the bottle in his hand up to his lips. Your eyes scan the bottle, blinking as you realize the bottle he’s holding is a cheap bottle of beer, although he doesn’t seem drunk. If anything, he’s maybe a bit out of it.

“I’m handlin’ things on my own.” He grips the bottle in his hand harder, his knuckles white. His eyes raise finally from your sleeve to meet your gaze, pupils blown and scleras reddened. Your lips purse, and you straighten at the realization that he’s high too.

“Are you high?”

“Yeah. Want a gummy, princess?”

Your brow furrows as you adamantly shake your head. “No. Sukuna, don’t you think that’s a bit reckless? I mean, with the kids and all?”

Offense passes through his glazed eyes, almost as though he’s taken aback. Your question takes a moment to settle within the recesses of his inebriated mind, but once it does, he bites back. “The fuck are you suggestin’?”

“What if the kids got into the weed or alcohol- or- or needed help while you’re-?” You clarify with a wave of your hand at his current state, disbelief and concern laced into your tone.

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious right now.”

“What about this isn’t serious?” You attempt to peer past him to see the kids, the sounds of the TV in the background telling you they can’t be far, but Sukuna’s completely blocked your view with his broad frame.

Sukuna laughs dryly, a cold smirk pulling at his lips. He swipes his tongue over the front of his teeth, shaking his head as he stares distantly behind you. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” Although he’s addressing you, you get the feeling it’s a rhetorical question, something he’s asking himself.

You purse your lips, startled by the whole situation.

When you don’t reply, Sukuna continues. “You don’t seriously think I would do this in front of them, do you?” His voice raises, mind moving slower than the words pouring from his mouth. “Do you seriously think that lowly of me?” He takes a step back into the apartment, slamming the door open on its hinges with a wooden creak to make a point as he motions into the apartment. “They ain’t fuckin’ here!” He barks, turning on his heel once his point’s been made to set his beer on the counter.

You follow him into the familiar apartment and shut the door gently, turning to the TV where you can now see that he’s got Monty Python and the Holy Grail playing, his laptop hooked into the screen. Swallowing your pride, you grimace as you attempt to backpedal before things get out of hand.

“I’m sorry, Sukuna, I didn’t realize. I just got worried because they’re always with you.”

Facing the counter, he rubs his fingers over his eyes. “Whatever,” he grumbles, punctuating his sentence with your name. “Why’re you here?”

You swallow hard. “You haven’t been in class for a week, and-”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” he interrupts in a flippant tone, turning to face you. He crosses his arms over his chest as he examines the way you’re visibly grappling with his attitude. “It’s the only way I can make this shit work.”

“You know I’m here to help. You know I want to help. You’re gonna fail if you don’t show up tomorrow.” You take a step towards him, feeling small under his harsh glare, but praying you can get through to him.

Sukuna watches you take a step towards him, his eyes dry as he feels the urge to rub at them again. He blinks a couple of times as his mind slowly processes your words. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he shakes his head. “Yeah, well, maybe it’s better this way.”

“What are you talking about? You’re so close to graduating. Just let me-”

“Let you what?” He interrupts your relentless insistence to help him. “Let you fuckin’ tutor me? Come in and turn my life around?” He pauses abruptly, his jaw tensing as realization flashes through his glazed eyes. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

“What?” The question comes out more milquetoast than you would have liked, but you’re left in genuine confusion at his query.

He laughs, a bitter smile burning straight through you as he shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what this has always been, isn’t it? God, I’m so fuckin’ stupid.”

“What do you mean, Kuna?”

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses suddenly. “Don’t pretend you’ve ever cared. Don’t fucking pretend. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Completely taken aback, you stumble one step backwards, failing to understand where he’s coming from. 

“You’ve been nit-pickin’ me non-stop since we got back from Christmas break, every single little thing I do is wrong. Did you talk to that prof about tutoring me too, add another box to check on your list? Play it off like she suggested it?”

Fuck. Of course the talk with the professor had this much of a negative effect on him. Of course one stupid little moment fucked up everything you’d worked so hard to build up.

“You don’t seriously believe that.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to believe? That I’m worth losing sleep over for someone like you? That I’m worth the time you’ve spent chasing me?” His chest heaves as he glares at you, his voice raised. “I’ve always been some little project to you!”

Caught somewhere between frustration, disbelief and hurt, you shake your head. “I’ve never- ever-” you pause for emphasis, “- seen you as a project.” You chew on your lip as your gaze flickers between his eyes, clouded with anger, but painfully distant. Whether that’s from the weed, alcohol, or stress, you can’t say for sure. “You’re my friend, Sukuna. That’s what friends do, they show up!” You wave a hand through the air as if to say that’s what you’re doing now. Even if it hardly feels that way at the moment.

“Yeah, maybe they do. When you’re little miss perfect.”

His words strike you, sharp and icy, threatening to draw blood. Fury courses through you at his blatant disregard not only for you, but also Toji and Uraume, even Atsuya and Kento. “Your friends do show up! We’ve all been showing up!” Your hand waves through the air again as you raise your voice to match his. “What do you call Toji and Uraume, if not your friends? What do you think of me?” You pause, shaking your head as you stand up for not just yourself but his friends. Your friends. “You just push us all away because you’re afraid!”

“I ain’t afraid of shit, I’m not here to be some charity case for you or any of ‘em!” His eyes blaze as he abruptly turns away, pacing a couple of steps towards the fridge as he rakes a hand through his hair.

“You never were! Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.” You cross your arms over your chest, staring out the window at the steady snowfall. “I’m so sick of you being such a dick just because you’re insecure.”

Sukuna scoffs, still facing the fridge as if he can’t even bear to look at you. In truth, he knows these emotions have been brewing within for a while now and it’s all come to a head with yet another mistake piling into the seemingly endless list of things he’s done wrong. He could let your gripes with smoking slide, your insistence about his major he was willing to talk through and the offer to tutor he could deal with at the end of the day.

But the way he’d never felt dumber in his life than when you seemed to think he’d get inebriated in front of the kids was the final straw that caused the pile to crumble.

And now he’s insecure and scared, too? He’s not sure he wants to admit, to you, or himself, just how much that all hurts. Sukuna doesn’t have the luxury of admitting that he’s hurt. He doesn’t have the luxury of being anything less than fine, because that’s what he needs to be for his brothers.

If he’s about to let you down, then he’ll dig that grave himself. He won’t let you put him there at the cost of what’s left of his dignity.

“Everything’s gotta be wrong with me when it comes to you, huh? It’s always somethin’. I’m never good enough,” he snarls, taking a step towards you as he finally turns to face you.

“That’s not-”

“The smoking, my major, my grades, this,” he points to a six pack of beer and a bag of weed gummies sitting open on the coffee table behind you. “Now I’m insecure too, right? Keep going, princess, find more shit to fix about me.”

His words hit hard, blood steadily seeping from an invisible wound in your chest, a gaping hole in your heart that Sukuna has no clue exists in the shape of him. You swallow hard, inhaling sharply to prevent the hot tears welling in your eyes from falling. “I’ve never been trying to fix you.” With another steady breath, you barely manage to push out another sentence. “I’ve only ever been trying to help because I see you struggling and I care about you.”

“But it always comes back to this, doesn’t it? We piss one another off and it’s always me who goes crawling back to you,” he points out, taking another step forward. He’s barely a foot away now, towering over you as you struggle to keep yourself from falling apart.

God, why do arguments always make you want to cry?

“I’m always the fuck-up, and you’re the perfect little prom queen. You can do no wrong.”

You bring a hand up to your cheek as you stare at the hardwood under your feet. You can only pray Sukuna doesn’t see the way a tear trails down your skin, warm and salty. “Don’t call me that.”

“Hit a nerve, prom queen?”

You swallow hard, wiping another tear as you refuse to look up at him. “You’re being an ass.”

“Yeah, maybe. But at least I’m not a fix-me-up for the school’s little scholarship princess.”

“That’s not fair, Sukuna.”

He crosses his arms, fire raging wildly behind his sharp glare. Everything about this feels foreign, from the complete and utter genuine rage that burns within him, the flames licking and simmering against your skin, to the way he seems genuinely hurt. “But it’s fair for me to sit here while you work on me, right?”

“I didn’t know you felt that way!” You raise your voice in your defense, taking a step back. Being so close to his personal space is nauseating and you want nothing more than to leave right now. “I never meant to make you feel like that, I was only ever trying to help,” you insist, gaze pleading through the tears that now freely fall down your face.

Guilt swirls alongside the downright humiliation you feel as you cry in the middle of an argument, one that leaves you standing in a metaphorical pool of your own blood as each of his words grate further into you while he steels himself.

“I told you from the start I didn’t need help.”

“You called me for help!” You point out, chewing hard on your lip, the skin raw at this point as iron tinges your tongue.

“That was a favor. I paid it back.”

“That doesn’t matter, Sukuna! I was only ever trying to be a good friend,” you wipe at your tears again, certain your makeup has streaked down your cheeks and you look like a complete mess.

“If I’m nothing but problems to you, why try?” He hisses, gritting his teeth as he takes another step forward.

You stumble back until your foot hits the couch, desperate for space from him. “Because this-” you pause, motioning at him. “This isn’t you! I’ve seen the real Sukuna, and I like him, I- I like you.”

If ever there was a way to feel your heart break physically, you think this might be it. It shatters as Sukuna only scoffs, completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve confessed something so personal to you. Something so deeply ingrained within your being from spending so much time with him that saying it aloud to him and seeing nothing but disdain in return might be the cruelest punishment of all.

Is it fair to think Sukuna might understand what you mean? Maybe not. Maybe he’s too dense, too guarded to understand the true meaning behind your words. Maybe he’s too jaded to think that anyone could possibly have feelings for him. ‘Like’ is just another synonym to him.

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

“What, I’m fake now, too?”

“God, you’re such a dick!” You groan, leaning against the back of the couch as you face him. “That’s not what I meant.” You inhale sharply in an effort to keep your tears at bay.

“Then what the hell did you mean?” He barks, though he doesn’t wait for your response. His voice lowers suddenly, dripping with venom. “I didn’t ask for this fuckin’ life, you know that? I never wanted to work two jobs or take care of my brothers!” His hand flies through the air in exasperation, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his forehead are practically bulging. “But guess what? I didn’t have a choice in the matter.” He huffs, irritation coming off of him in waves. “And I definitely didn’t fucking ask for you to come in and tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”

“I was never doing that, Sukuna-”

“Then what the fuck is going on right now?” He hisses, motioning back towards the six pack and bag of gummies that sit atop the coffee table again, doubling down on your earlier accusation.

“I only showed up to try to help with classes!” You insist, parting your lips to continue but in his blaze of fury, he’s already growling out a reply again.

“Oh right,” he scoffs with a dry chuckle. “How could I forget that my grades aren’t good enough?”

“Oh my god, stop! Can you listen to me for one second? You’re gonna fail if you don’t show up tomorrow!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” he shouts, punctuating the sentence with your name. “It doesn’t… fucking matter anymore.” There’s an air of defeat around his words. Even angry with the man, it’s unbefitting of him, of someone so driven and prideful.

Shaking your head, you stare up at him with a furrowed brow. “I thought your degree mattered to you.”

“It does,” he gruffs, pressing a thumb to his temple as his head pounds. “It did.”

“Then why quit when you’re so close?”

“Close?” There’s no humor in the chuckle he lets out, shaking his head. “I’ve never been further! Their fuckin’ mother made sure of that when she slapped me with a lawsuit!” He barks, dragging a hand over his face, dropping it to his side with a thump as his hand collides with the fabric of his sweatpants. “No matter who wins the lawsuit, she’s still comin’ out on top because I can’t afford any of this shit and she knows that.” He shakes his head, disdain twisting his features into a deep frown. “So what I want doesn’t matter, as long as Yu and Cho get to have a better life. That’s all that matters now.”

You know there’s an obvious solution here, one in which Sukuna takes his foot out of his ass and stops being a stubborn prick and asks for help, but that’s not who he is. He’s set in ways so deeply ingrained in him that no amount of convincing will get through to him, and as much as you hate to admit it, you think you need to accept that.

It’s not like this argument is doing your friendship any good, anyway. Sukuna knows his last chance shattered the moment he snapped, but beneath the surface it’s clear that on both sides there were unspoken frustrations that had been brewing for longer than either of you had cared to admit. They were bound to come to a startling explosion eventually, but this just feels like a slog for an inebriated Sukuna.

Every word piles onto his troubles, a mess of misunderstood words and confusing intentions that he can’t seem to grasp in his high state. A glimpse of your teary face has him scowling at the ground, wondering if this could have been prevented, wondering why there’s a weight in his chest practically begging him to find a middle ground with you, but it’s far too late for that and he knows it.

The whole situation has his head pounding as emotions swirl in his chest, leaving a deep discomfort that he wants nothing more than to drown in liquor. He grasps at his head, pressing the ball of his palm hard against his temple as he takes a step towards the table at the back of the apartment, leaning over it on splayed palms.

Bile rises in his throat, but he’s not nearly drunk enough for it to be caused by alcohol. One beer wouldn’t do that to a man of Sukuna’s stature, leaving him wondering if it’s you causing the bitter taste to surface at the back of his throat. He swallows hard, his chest heaving.

No, this isn’t from alcohol. He recognizes this feeling all too well. But this time, he has no one to rely on as his chest and throat tighten. He inhales sharply, pushing himself up to face you again. He steels himself to the best of his ability, masking any and all signs of the anxiety stirring deep within his chest.

You’re not oblivious to the way he’s visibly shaking and struggling to breathe, you recognize all-too-well the signs of his pain, but he won’t let you help. You know that. You know what’s coming and the worst part is that you still want to help. Your heart still aches for something you won’t find within the hardened and cold man.

It’s who you are. You’re the type to help, no matter what. Even if it leaves you hurting.

But Sukuna is incompatible with that mindset.

Worse still, is the guilt that boils deep within your stomach. Sukuna’s made a handful of mistakes, ones that he worked hard to make up for, but you’d been so deeply engrossed in helping that you didn’t realize it sometimes came across as fixing. You’d never intended to hurt him, you never wanted to add to his burdens.

But it seemed for once you’d hurt one another, both too bogged down by the world that somewhere along the way you’d both harboured too much pain and lashed out.

It wasn’t just Sukuna at fault this time, but he would be the one to end things where he stood.

“Get out.”

Your lip trembles at the finality of the situation, zipping your coat up as you head for the door, keeping your gaze drawn to the floor in an effort to keep Sukuna from seeing how destroyed you are.

Pausing at the door, you briefly turn back, your lips parting as you contemplate saying what’s on your mind. “I didn’t ask for a lot, Sukuna. I’ve never cared if you paid me back, or returned any favors.” You swallow hard to keep yourself from audibly sobbing. “You, Choso, and Yuji were always worth the extra effort just by being yourselves.” Before you can see his reaction, you swing the door open and shut it behind you.

It’s not until you’re in your car that you finally let yourself fall apart, sobbing against the steering wheel.

Countless sleepless nights spent worrying over the brothers had blinded you to the way you had been hurting Sukuna, even if you’d never intended it. It wasn’t even just a case of his pride or ego getting in the way for once, you’d made a genuine mistake and stung to know you’d caused him pain.

You can’t be upset that he reacted the way he did when you accused him of drinking around the kids, but it doesn’t give him the right to step on you. You know Kento and Shoko would be happy to know you stood up for yourself, but there’s no satisfaction in that fact. You hadn’t wanted to stand up for yourself, because this isn’t what you wanted for the friendship you treasured so genuinely.

For all the closeness you shared with the burly man, one mistake was all it took for it to fall apart.

But really, was it ever only one mistake? The smoking, his major, his grades, although all little things, they all added up. It doesn’t give Sukuna the right to say the things he did, to hurt you and dig so deeply until he crushed the very core of your soul, but for once you know this isn’t one-sided.

This isn’t like your other arguments, bogged down by Sukuna’s deeply jaded views of the world and distrust for those around him. You made a mistake, sure, but he took it too far, leaving you both in equal parts in the wrong.

The only difference is that where you would have talked things out, Sukuna stomped out any remaining flame of connection, burying the hatchet with cruel words.

Leaning over the steering wheel, you contemplate where you went wrong. Where along the winding road of what was once a very deep connection one of you found a bump and turned it into a pothole.

Sukuna would contemplate the same himself, but not until a gruelling morning hangover found him the following morning.

Tonight, his sufferings would leave him in a painfully familiar position on the washroom floor, drowning in his anxiety.

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❦ a/n ; forgive me 😭 i do hope you all enjoyed the chapter regardless though <33 it makes me beyond happy how much you all enjoy this story and the support for it never fails to make me smile. i promise i'll make up for the angst!! in the meantime, thank you as always for all the love, it makes my day <33

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