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endless-ineffabilities · 26 days ago

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chemical override (12)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: see that up there? He's a good fella. He's not going to fumble this time.

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The Mallorca getaway continues. Ewan takes on a new approach when it comes to winning you back. With flirty dares and rising tensions, will you be any closer to making a choice?

The news barely needed any time to settle.

It spread like wildfire, from those with professional connections in Hollywood to casual celebrity gossip enjoyers. In less than an hour after the first batch of headlines broke out, it was clear—Bruce Haversham is now an industry pariah.

It was yesterday when Ewan rejoined the group by the pool, a strange look in his eyes. Before Phia could finish asking if something was wrong, Freddie exclaimed a very surprised, “What the fuck?” as he scanned his phone, and the rest was history.

The following morning, the villa gradually wakes to meet the sunrise.

The place screams simple luxury, with the interiors painted in a standard white and cyan, lush potted plants stretching tall in the corners. There are eight bedrooms and four full bathrooms, so your large group split up as desired.

You’re sharing a room with Phia and Liv, which means that Phia has gladly taken the role of being your personal alarm clock.

You are already awake when you feel her breathing in your ear. You crack open an eye and see her leaning over your bed, a wide grin stretched across her lips. “Day three!” she squeals. “Rise and shiiiine. Buenos dias!”

You groan halfheartedly. It’s impossible to be grumpy even in this hour when Phia acts like it’s going to be the best day ever. Like the day before that. And the day before. And pretty much every day since you’ve met her.

“What time is it?” you croak, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“6:30,” she happily chirps. “It’s our turn to make breakfast.”

Some of the boys volunteered to be the chefs yesterday, and the highlights were Freddie and Matt’s spaghetti bolognese, and Ewan’s sparkling sangria.

You remember telling Emma in the late afternoon that you’ve never tried sangria and you’ve always wanted to, but surely that’s not the reason why Ewan chose to make that drink for dinner. But you knew he had been lounging around, always within sight of you.

He almost never stays far from you.

When you make your way into the kitchen, most of the girls are already busy. Pots and pans hiss and smoke on the stove, filling the air with the scent of cooking.

“We bought ingredients for pancakes, right?” you ask, shuffling through the cupboards.

“Of course we did,” Liv replies, as she slices and carefully arranges fruits on a platter.

“Stacks of pancakes coming right up!” you say, mustering some of Phia’s early morning enthusiasm.

“Oh, I could kiss you,” Liv preens.

A few minutes into your process, you hear gasps in the room. You don’t turn right away, knowing that with your group, it could be anything. From something as simple as juice spilling, or Fabien suddenly going bald. A flock of actors will be dramatic.

But someone barks out, “Ewan! You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“Let us girls cook in peace. You’ll get your turn again tomorrow,” Phia scolds.

Your breath hitches as you suddenly feel someone standing right behind you. “Good morning, darling,” Ewan’s voice rumbles softly, and you turn to find that he has moved closer, his hand propped on the kitchen counter by your waist. “Are you making pancakes? I’d love to help.”

“Do you want his help?” Bethany questions you plainly.

Ewan shuffles to your side, casually leaning against the counter as he looks at you, his brows raised as he bites his lip in a cheeky manner that sends your pulse skittering.

“I… I wouldn’t mind,” you stammer, and he turns to the rest of the girls to give them a what-can-you-do shrug.

“Fine,” Phia relents with a knowing smile, throwing you a wink that is impossible to miss.

Ewan proves to be a good sous chef, taking note of your remarks, and sticking to the steps you laid out. To be fair, you don’t even have to say much, the both of you falling right into a comfortable rhythm. He hands you the right ingredients without missing a beat. The wide kitchen is filled with the soothing noises of cooking and soft chatter, but your focus is zeroed in on the effortless system that you have going with Ewan.

It’s simple. It’s calm and domestic. It reminds you of a time long gone, when you were dating in LA, spending nearly every waking moment with each other. Before everything got so… complicated.

He stands by while you ladle some pancake batter onto the griddle. He’s there, but you miss him.

“You okay, darling?” he ducks his head so only you can hear. “Did you not sleep well?”

You find concern etched in his features. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… thinking, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Ewan knows you well, so does he know that you’re worried about his nonchalance at what happened to Bruce? The PR arrangement is effectively scrapped, which means that the biggest hurdle that once stood between you and him is no more.

He’s always been so forward and upfront about his feelings, but why does it feel like nothing has happened? Like nothing has changed?

Perhaps the distance that you enforced has become too wide to manage, and he has lost interest? His brow furrows when you don’t answer, and his hand gently squeezes above your elbow. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch your attention, “what’s wrong, darling?”

Okay. Maybe he hasn’t completely lost interest. But still.

“Nothing,” you shake your head. “But, how are you doing? With all the drama surrounding Bruce and all that?”

“Well, he’s out of the project. And we’re all glad for it.”

“That’s good.” You flip a pancake too late, slightly burning one side.

You rock back on your heels as you wait, and you turn to find Ewan watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes, his lips curling in that signature Ewan way that can mean everything and nothing at all.

“What?” you finally ask.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, mirroring your tone from earlier, one that fails to mask the thoughts swirling in his mind. “I appreciate your concern, my love. Thank you for asking.”

“No problem,” you say softly, clearing your throat to be heard better. “I’m happy you’re done with that asshole and his unfair demands.”

“Yeah,” he nods. His face is so close to yours that you can spot the tiny flecks of yellow in his blue eyes. His eyes dart to the side, then back to you. “Darling?”

“Mmm?”

“I know I’m just your humble assistant—” He clutches his chest in a playful gesture, smirking knowingly. “—but I think that pancake has turned to stone.”

“Oh, shit!” You hurriedly take it out of the griddle, but he’s right. Even its sides are charcoal-coloured. You groan at your shoddy work, putting it aside to be tossed to the bin later, as Ewan—the cheeky bugger—laughs openly at your distress.

“Alright, alright.” You roll your eyes at him. You should be annoyed, but how can you, when this moment feels like a vivid snapshot of a better time?

You can pretend that you don’t care for it, but what’s the point? Even after all this time, and everything you’ve been through together, and apart.

Always.

“Ewan,” you say, trying to keep a straight face, and failing, “let’s just keep going, okay? And no more accidents. We’re not going to poison everybody.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes, it was.”

“How so?”

“You were… being distracting.”

He tilts his head, and stares at you so intensely that you have to turn back to the griddle. As you should, anyway. Oh, if smugness had a face…

The stack becomes higher, then multiplies into two, three… The whole time, the skip in your heartbeat becomes more and more impossible to ignore. Once again, you’re that newbie actress, that girl with a crush, who had to spend an entire day doing press with the Ewan Mitchell.

Your Ewan, who can level you with just a glance.

“Okay,” you exhale. “Just a few more, then we’re done. And please—quit looking at me.”

“What?” Ewan shifts away, as if he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes with his eyes glued to you for no particular reason. “I can’t look at you? You know I would do anything for you, darling, but that’s kind of an impossible request.”

“Oh my god,” Phia's voice inserts itself in the moment, causing you and Ewan to turn around sharply. It is only then that you notice that everyone has gone out to the patio, judging by the source of the ruckus.

Phia stands there, cool as a cucumber with a glass of juice in one hand, wagging her eyebrows when you make eye contact. “Ewan… just…ugh.”

“What?” Ewan snorts at her faux frustration.

She shakes her head for a few seconds, before landing on, “You’re impossible. I can’t deal with you two. I just can’t.” She then walks away, only pausing briefly to remark, “At least those bloody pancakes were made with love.”

Ewan begins arranging the pancakes to take out to the dining area in the patio, while you tidy up the mess. It’s not long before the rest of the lads come thundering down the stairs, still disheveled and groggy from sleep.

“Time for breakfast,” Ewan remarks as you finish your work, his hand drifting to the small of your back, sending warmth radiating through your skin.

Inevitably, you’re once again caught up in a moment where he is all there is, and you wish he would just make some comment on where things stand between the two of you. Some reassurance, something more than flirtatious remarks and fleeting touches.

But a new arrival in the kitchen melts the moment away.

“Good morning.” It’s Matt, leaning casually against the wall.

Your face heats up in shame. You have been so preoccupied with Ewan and the state of your relationship with him, that you forgot to factor in Matty. The sweetheart you’re technically dating, who has been nothing but good to you.

He walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek, his hand resting on the small of your back, mirroring where Ewan’s had been moments before.

“Smells good in here,” Matt says, his voice easy. “You two make a good team in the kitchen, huh?”

Ewan’s smile tightens, his hands slipping into his pockets. “Just trying to keep up, mate. You know how it is.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to those pancakes.” Matt winks at you, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in your mind, then heads toward the patio, leaving you and Ewan standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

Ewan clears his throat, glancing at you with a look you can’t quite decipher, but it gets your heart racing all the same. “We should—” he gestures toward the pancakes, his voice softer now. “We should take these out.”

You nod, meeting his eyes. “We should.”

He stands still, brows furrowing for a moment as he continues to gaze at you, before the muscles in his face release their tension. His eyes soften, and his lips pull into a gentle smile. “Hmm.” He hums to himself, like he has realised something.

“What is it?” Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I always thought you look your best in the mornings, when your hair’s a bit mussed, and you’re fresh from sleep, and you’re just… you.”

“Oh.”

“But then again,” he says, as he takes the pancakes, balancing one full plate in each hand, “When are you not beautiful, darling?” He smiles sweetly, before turning on his heel and walking away.

A long moment passes before your heart starts working again.

The late afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the villa, and everyone is scattered on the property. You’re sitting with Liv, Bella, and Phoebe by the pool, sipping on fresh juice and exchanging stories.

Then, from the entrance, you hear the unmistakable sound of wheels crunching over gravel, followed by the final rev of a car engine. The rest of the guests have arrived.

It’s Luke who bounds out first, his arms thrown wide as he hollers, “The party’s here, baby!”

“Lad!” Phia calls out, running up to greet him with a warm hug, “You’re late, as usual.”

“Fashionably late,” he grins, patting her back and winking at you as he catches your eye.

Harry and Elliott follow close behind, totally at ease, pulling their suitcases and nodding toward the group. Behind them is Milly, who practically jumps out of the car. She’s all smiles, her bubbly personality lighting up the space in an instant. She hugs everyone in quick succession, her laughter ringing out as she quickly finds something to tease Fabien about.

But it’s the last arrival that makes your heart plummet.

Louise steps out of the SUV, dressed casually but effortlessly put together, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. Louise, Luke and Eliott’s cousin who was spotted with Ewan ages ago, just before you and him began dating. It was the usual paparazzi blunder, and Ewan profusely swore that nothing actually happened, with the twins quick to vouch for him.

But she glances around, her eyes scanning the villa before landing on Ewan, who stands just a few away, watching quietly. She makes a beeline for him, leaning in for a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Ewan. Miss me?”

Your chest tightens.

Ewan’s smile is polite and restrained, but it doesn’t escape your notice how he subtly steps back, keeping a respectful distance between them. “Good to see you, Lou,” he greets evenly, though his gaze flickers toward you for the briefest of moments. It’s subtle—no one else would notice—but you do.

“Why is it so bloody hot out here?” Elliott exclaims, catching your attention.

As everyone catches up with each other, the space is filled with chatter and laughter. But despite the chaos, your attention keeps getting pulled back to Ewan and Louise. She’s standing close to him, not too close, but enough that it feels like a deliberate choice on her part. Her smile is bright, and her hand occasionally brushes his arm when she laughs.

Which she does too often. Ewan’s a witty guy and all, but what could there be to laugh wildly about every ten seconds?

You can’t help the pang of jealousy that twists in your gut. She looks like someone who would have Instagram, and judging by the way she ogles your boyfr—

By the way she ogles Ewan, she would be aware of his doings on that godforsaken app. She would have definitely seen—no, stalked—his profile back when it was still up, seeing his tributes to you.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a holiday? You tell yourself to relax your nerves, which are currently set on edge.

Matt appears at your side, wrapping an arm around your waist, as he plants a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay?” he asks, his voice enough to soothe you for a while.

“I’m good,” you nod, forcing a smile.

Ewan catches your gaze, before his eyes drop down to Matt’s arm around you. The smallest sense of victory washes over you as his jaw clenches in obvious irritation. But it’s fleeting, gone too soon, when he looks away and slips back into conversation with Louise.

The rest of the arrivals gather their bags and start making their way inside, talking about what to do for dinner, and where to go tonight.

The party has just begun.

The hour is late when the group gradually comes together in a circle, much like kids forming around a campfire. Fabien and Bella balance large plastic bowls of snacks in each arm. Meanwhile, Rhys and Tom stagger into the scene, with a full load of six-packs and wine bottles. The rest of the group follow suit, trickling in with a chorus of laughter and shared whispers.

The circle tightens, everyone jostling for a seat, with some sprawled on blankets, while others perch on low adirondack chairs. It’s chaotic, but it’s the kind of chaos Ewan doesn’t mind, with the cast being like family to him.

He feels your presence like a magnet, drawing him in despite everything going on. The moment you step into the circle, his heart stumbles. As it always does, without fail.

You’re wearing a long and flowy, green summer dress, with your hair delicately pulled away from your face. It’s simple, effortless, but Ewan thinks you’re the prettiest person in every room.

You hesitate, and Ewan’s hand moves on instinct—stretching out to the space next to him on the blanket, a silent offer. For a split second, he sees you acquiesce, taking a half-step toward him.

But just as you begin to shift in his direction, before you can make a move, Matt reaches out from his spot at the edge of the circle, snatching your wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His laugh is low and teasing as he effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace, like he owns you.

Ewan takes several deep breaths, trying to fight the surge of jealousy rising up a tidal wave. He tries to be patient, to play this right. But watching Matt hold you like that, hearing him call you my love in that careless, confident way—it’s almost enough to make Ewan snap, pull you aside, and beg for things to go back to the way they were.

When he had you, and you had him, in every sense of the word. Back in LA, when being in love was enough.

Instead, Ewan leans back, forcing himself to look relaxed. But his eyes remain locked on you. When Matt’s fingers trace along your arm, you steal another glance at Ewan, like you’re checking and wondering if he’ll say something, do something.

But he won’t. Not yet. Not until you decide.

Ewan has been patient because he has to be. Things have to go right, because he wants you for good, not just for now. So he lets it happen; he lets you keep pretending. But he makes sure that you know he’s there, watching you, waiting for you.

Rhys pops open another beer, tossing one to Tom, who nearly fumbles it. Laughter breaks out across the group, as everyone settles into their places.

For all the commotion, all Ewan sees is you.

Fabien sits to his left and hands him a beer. Suddenly, Louise drops into the empty spot beside him.

“Hey, stranger,” she says, her voice playful as she nudges Ewan’s arm. “I barely saw you all afternoon. You avoiding me or something?” She’s got that look in her eyes, and he knows exactly what she’s doing. Now, with Matt monopolising your attention, she’s moving in.

“Course not,” Ewan replies casually.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she continues, smiling sweetly.

“Just taking it all in,” he says, keeping his voice neutral. He feels the weight of your gaze from across the circle, but he stops himself from looking at you.

“Taking it all in, huh?” she laughs softly. “Well—handsome—if you don’t mind, could you pass me a beer?”

Her hand brushes his as he passes her a bottle, and he catches your reaction in his peripheral vision. Your body stiffens slightly, your smile faltering for a split second before you force it back into place. But Ewan knows you too well. You’re not okay with this.

And that gives him just the slightest bit of satisfaction.

The circle carries on drinking, throwing quips, and even pillows, with Elliott throwing the cushion by his arse to Freddie after a particularly passionate round of banter. Then it’s time to play a game, brought on by the kind of reckless energy that results when everyone has had a little too much to drink.

“Alright, you lot,” Phoebe says, dragging over two makeshift bowls of rolled-up pieces of paper—one for truths and one for dares—the girls’ project for the afternoon. She places it haphazardly in the centre of the circle. “Rules are simple: spin the bottle, pick a truth or dare from the bowl. No wimping out, no lame excuses.”

Matt chuckles, adjusting you slightly in his lap, his arm still casually draped over your thighs as you sit sideways on the chair, your feet propped on the armrest. You’ve been nursing the same glass of wine for a while now, but Ewan can tell by the glint in your eyes that it’s starting to hit you.

It’s hitting him too.

The bottle spins wildly, its glossy surface catching the firelight as it circles through the group.

Matt is up first. The bottle stops, pointing at him like it was meant to.

“Truth,” he says, his voice confident, his smirk ever-present as he reaches out to pull from the bowl. He reads aloud, “Who has the best hair?”

Tom is quick to warn, “And it can’t be the girl in your lap! No brownie points for trying to get lucky, mate.”

Matt doesn’t miss a beat. He leans forward, that cocky grin still in place. “Oh, I’m already lucky,” he says, earning oohs and ahhs from the group. You blush, but there’s a cautious edge to your smile, and Ewan can tell you’re wondering how he’s taking all this.

He pretends not to care.

“Oh, come on, Matty!” Bella shouts. “Pick someone.”

Matt surveys the group, dragging it out like he’s milking the moment. His eyes finally land on Olivia, who’s been watching him like a hawk, and he says, “Alright, Miss Cooke has the best hair. Hands down.”

“Damn right I do,” Olivia says, shaking her dark curls with a dramatic flourish, and the group erupts into more laughter.

The bottle spins again. This time it lands on Ewan.

“Dare,” he says, trying to avoid the inevitable where he plays it safe and picks truth, but then gets egged on the alternative. They would push the quiet, shy guy to let loose. It is his birthday getaway after all.

He fishes a slip from the dare bowl, and as he almost can’t believe the words scrawled on the paper. Oh fuck.

“Well, what does it say?” Emma asks.

Ewan swallows nervously. “Uhhh, well, it says kiss the person to your right.”

To his right is Louise.

Of course it’s bloody Louise. He should have picked truth. Why did he have to choose now as an exercise of confidence? Why?

He can’t help but glance at you on instinct, but your expression is unreadable.

Louise, for her part, is already leaning in, that smirk of hers so smug it makes Ewan’s teeth clench. Everyone’s watching. There’s no way out of this. He can feel Matt’s eyes drilling into the back of his skull, like he’s waiting for him to mess up.

Ewan leans in, pressing a light kiss to Louise’s lips—meant to be barely more than a brush, but she pushes forward, making it last longer than he would like. The heat of her lips lingers when he pulls back in a flash. His ears ring with enthusiastic catcalls from the group.

He clears his throat uncomfortably, and he can’t bear to look at you this time.

Before anyone can say anything, the bottle is spinning again.

It lands on you.

“Dare,” you say, your voice just a bit too steady. When you’ve chosen, you dramatically read aloud, “Kiss… the person on your left.”

And it’s Freddie.

The second you realise who it is, there is the tiniest flicker of hesitation in your expression.

Freddie raises his eyebrows, smirking like the cheeky bastard he is, leaning back on his elbows as if he’s some kind of prize. “Well, well, well…” he teases, making a big show of puckering his lips. “Happy birthday to me.”

Everyone’s laughing and spurring you on, the group feeding off the chaotic energy of the night. So you unperch yourself from Matt’s lap, lean over the side of the chair, and kiss Freddie.

It’s quick, almost as if you want it over before anyone can really react, but Freddie leans into it, his hand cupping the back of your neck. Ewan’s stomach twists as he watches, and he knows he shouldn’t care so much. It’s just a bloody game, it doesn’t mean anything.

But it hits him harder than he wants to admit.

Freddie—being the showman that he is—makes a big deal of it, making an exaggerated gesture as if you’d left him breathless. “I think I’m in love,” he jokes, throwing a wink in Matt’s direction.

Ewan downs the rest of his beer, the bitterness coating his throat, but it does nothing to quench the fire building in his chest. The jealousy gnaws at him, and he hopes to all that is holy that you don’t have to kiss anyone else for the game. Unless it’s him.

Then it won’t just be a friendly peck. It won’t just last two seconds. He will kiss you in front of everyone, claiming you, like his life depends on it.

And that won’t just be on the booze.

The game goes on, but he barely registers the next few rounds. Louise shifts closer to him, her hand casually resting on his knee. She leans in, her breath hot against his ear as she says, “I didn’t mind that kiss, you know.”

He doesn’t respond right away, too caught up in the sight of you laughing at something Matt says to Freddie. You look happy, but it’s all wrong. That laugh used to be Ewan’s.

“Still taking it all in?” Louise asks, her voice dripping with suggestion.

“Something like that,” Ewan sharply responds. Either she hasn’t yet gotten the hint that he’s not interested, or she has and simply doesn’t care, because she asks him another question, squeezing his knee.

And he lets her. Because what else can he do?

The night has a pulse of its own. It starts off slow, a lazy hum of conversations, but soon escalates into something wilder.

It’s hard not to feel electricity thrumming under your skin, not only from the alcohol, but from every look Ewan throws at you across the circle, watching as Matt’s arms stay anchored around you.

Ever since the news about Bruce came out, Matt has been noticeably more bold and doting. It's as if the shift in your relationship with Ewan has sparked something in him – his romantic gestures more frequent, his touch lingering just a bit longer. Where he once might have hung back, now he openly claims your attention, as though daring anyone to challenge his place in your world.

"Looks like you’re sitting here tonight, my love," Matt had whispered low in your ear, when he pulled you onto his lap, his breath warm and smelling of whiskey against your skin.

The night spirals even further when a game is proposed. Phia, Bella, and Phoebe had been the ones to come up with the prompts for truth or dare, so you couldn’t have predicted what follows.

When Matt is made to choose someone else for his question, the possessive way with which he murmurs, “Oh, I’m already lucky,” sends a flush to your cheeks. You notice that Ewan is under tension when you meet his gaze, judging by the stiffness of his shoulders and the subtle tick of his jaw.

Next, it’s Ewan’s turn. You’re mildly surprised when he chooses dare, with that brazen look on his face. You wait eagerly, to see what tricks he has up his sleeve, but your heart plummets when he reads his prompt.

He has to kiss the person on his right, which conveniently happens to be Louise. She is instantly giddy, grinning like she won the lottery. She’s been eyeing him all night, leaning in a little too close for your liking.

Ewan hesitates, just for a second, his eyes flickering over to you as if to ask permission. You don’t move a muscle, your breath caught in your throat when he finally leans in to give Louise a kiss.

Damn if it doesn’t feel like a punch to your gut. The group erupts into cheers, and you play along, even though jealousy rises like bile in your throat.

The bottle spins again, and time seems to slow. When it finally comes to rest, it’s pointing right at you.

You’re then prompted to kiss the person on your left—Freddie.

His flawless grin eases your nerves, and keeps you from worrying about how Ewan’s eyes flash with something territorial. The kiss is over as soon as it started, but everyone reacts as if they just witnessed a full-on makeout session.

The game moves on, more dares, more truths, the atmosphere becoming more unhinged with every spin of the bottle. Tom has to shotgun a beer in under ten seconds, which he does to wild applause. Emma serenades their closest friend in the circle, which just so happens to be Liv. Bella is asked who her celebrity crush is, and she gives her boyfriend Fabien as the answer, who is a celebrity after all.

Then the bottle lands on you again.

“Dare,” you say, the word slipping out before you can second-guess it. You pull out a slip from the bowl, reading, “Call up an admirer, someone famous who’s asked you out.”

The group hums among themselves, looking at you questioningly.

“Well,” you say after a few seconds, your heart racing. “I guess… there’s… Glen?”

There are some gasps, some woohoos, and you feel Matt shift beside you, clearing his throat to ask, “Glen Powell?” Ewan, meanwhile, sits a little straighter across the circle. He knows this already. This was in August of last year, when both of you were in LA. You got a referral to join the notorious Alo gym, where you linked up with Tate Mcrae, Jake Shane, and Glen, and they became your workout crew.

Glen easily caught your eye, of course, as he does with anyone. But you turned him down because of Ewan. You remained friends, and your little Alo crew still regularly catches up on a group chat, which is brilliantly called Jake’s Shakes.

“Oh, Glen Powell,” Bethany squeals. “You have to call him!”

You fumble for your phone, the glare of the screen hurting your eyes briefly. You feel a bit woozy, but maybe it’s just the pressure mounting as everyone’s eyes bore into you.

With shaky fingers, you scroll through your contacts, finding Glen’s number. There’s a second of hesitation, and then you hit call, turning on the speaker option.

You could practically hear a pin drop, as the group is silent for the first time throughout the night.

The phone rings just thrice before he answers.

“Hey there,” Glen’s voice is warm and playful on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Glen,” you say, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “How are you doing?��

“Would you believe me if I said I’m just sitting here waiting for a call from you?”

The group erupts into hushed laughter, and you try to suppress a nervous giggle. “No actually,” you say, “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it, gorgeous,” he replies smoothly, “When are we gonna see you back in LA?”

“I don’t know, but I might have work out there soon,” you say honestly, falling into the rhythm of conversation. “Are you still helping Jake through his mini earthquakes?”

“Oh, you bet. But I’m glad you’re coming here soon. Just say the word, and I’ll have our first date planned to perfection.”

The whole circle fails to stifle their laughter, shocked expressions abound as the call turns suggestive. Your heart skips a beat, and you decide that it’s best to break it to him then. “Glen, so, uh, I’m playing truth or dare with the cast, and I got dared to call up an admirer…”

“Oh?” Glen’s chuckle is confident, unfazed. “Well, I’m flattered. I gotta say you called the right person. Good call, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, everyone seems to agree,” you say, keeping the mood light, but Matt shifts behind you, leaning forward as if to intervene. Before you can say another word, he gently reaches over and takes the phone from your hand, his smile still intact but icy.

“Hey, Glen, it’s Matt here,” Matt says smoothly, “Thanks for humouring us, mate. We’ve just had a couple of drinks out here, you know how it is.”

“Hey, man,” Glen replies, unaware of your connection with the guy he’s speaking to. “Yeah, no problem. Hope you’re all having a great time.”

“Thanks, but you know, we’re plenty occupied so… no need to make too many plans just yet.”

Glen just laughs on the other end. “Well, when she’s ready, I’ll be more than happy to make sure she’s treated right.”

Matt, to his credit, sounds genuinely amused when he replies, “I’m sure… but I think we’ve got that covered here.”

You see Ewan’s calm exterior cracking as he silently watches the scene unfold.

“Oh, really? Well, sounds like I’m up against some tough competition,” Glen jokes, his sweet disposition unshakeable.

“So, mate,” Ewan says loudly, his teasing drawl heard across the group, “Do you always plan dates with people who are taken?”

The group bursts into surprised laughter, and Freddie even clutches your arm in his glee. There’s a brewing excitement as the game takes on a new life. It’s like watching a fuse slowly burn toward an explosion.

On the other end, Glen pauses for a moment, probably trying to figure out what the hell is happening. “Well, you know, man, I just like to be prepared. Wait, who am I talking to now? Is this Ewan… Mitchell?”

“Yeah,” Ewan confirms, relaxing a little. Fabien wraps an arm around his shoulders to get him to ease up.

Glen responds, still directed at Ewan, “She talked about you a lot, you know. I wouldn’t be worried if I were you, man.”

Tom hollers in satisfaction for Ewan, “There you go, Ewaaan! I bet that made his entire week.”

It’s then that Matt decides to end the call. “Thanks for the call, Glen. We’ll let you get back to your day, yeah?”

“Alright,” Glen says, addressing everyone this time. “Have a great night, you guys!”

The call drops.

“Wow,” Milly remarks, “girl, I wish I had Glen Powell on my speed dial.”

“Yeah, that was fun,” Phoebe agrees, her eyes flicking between Matt and Ewan, clearly enjoying the show.

The game rolls on, laughter growing impossibly louder, voice slurring with alcohol. Louise remains glued to Ewan’s side, leaning just enough that it’s impossible not to notice. Matt doesn’t let you go for a second, his hand always on you—either resting on your leg or wrapped snugly around your waist.

The group branches out when the game eventually winds down, scattering across the courtyard. Some head toward the pool, others to the bar on the patio, and the music keeps getting higher in volume. Drinks are passed around freely, conversations blur into one another, and the entire scene glows under soft lights.

At one point, you’re pulled aside by Phia, as she demands that you settle a debate between her and Milly. Matt becomes distracted, bickering with Fabien and Harry by the pool.

Then, out of nowhere, Ewan materialises by your side, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist. His touch sends a jolt through you, and in an instant, he’s pulling you away from the girls, who are way too drunk to even realise.

He leads to the side of the villa, and the music fades into the background as you find yourself in a more secluded spot.

Ewan doesn’t wait for you to speak, pressing you against the wall, and taking your lips in a wet, sloppy kiss.

And everything else falls away. The commotion nothing but a distant echo, the truths and dares something from a forgotten dream. It’s just you and him.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, and there’s an innocence in the gesture. A sense of intimacy that pulls at your heartstrings and makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Then, his voice is a rough whisper. “I love you, baby,” he slurs slightly, the alcohol clearly affecting his speech.

“Ewan, you’re drunk,” you say softly, trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words.

“Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I love you, I always have. I mean, if that wasn’t fucking obvious already.”

Your hand reaches up to caress the side of his face, and he leans into your touch. His lips find the centre of your palm, pressing a warm, lingering kiss there. Time slows down just for the two of you.

“I’m serious,” he continues, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. “I’ve messed up before. I know that. But I want to do this right. I want you… for good.”

“Ewan…” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’ll wait for you,” he promises. “Even if you have… him. Even if it drives me crazy… I’ll wait. I want you to choose me.”

Ewan lays it all bare, giving you the choice, letting you wield the power. All you can do is stand there, but he seems to understand your silence. He just smiles—a tired, bittersweet smile that holds everything left unsaid.

“I’m here,” he whispers. “And I love you.”

He turns, walking back in the direction of the courtyard, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

The next day, Matt enjoys the twilight hour on the patio, his hands curled around a warm cup of tea. Some of the group, including you and Ewan, ventured out into town for the day.

The thought of you out there with Ewan gnaws at him, but he does his best to keep calm.

Liv sits across from him, her own cup in hand. She’s been quietly listening for most of their conversation, but eventually, she turns solemn.

“You know,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve noticed the way things are with you three. It’s hard not to.”

Matt lets out a breath. Should he act oblivious or just face it head on? “What do you mean?”

Liv gives him a look, cutting past the pretence. "Don’t play dumb, Matthew. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Matt contemplates brushing it off, deflecting like he usually does. But there’s no point in pretending with Liv. She’s been his friend too long for that.

“It’s complicated, Liv,” he admits, his voice quieter than he intended. “I know there's something between them, there always has been. But I… I don’t want to lose her.”

Liv leans forward, her expression softening. “You won’t lose her, Matt. Not if you don’t want to.”

He laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “That’s easy to say. Ewan’s not exactly giving her much reason to stay away.”

“True,” Liv agrees, giving him a sympathetic smile, “but that doesn’t mean you’re out of the game. Look, I’ve known you for years, and I’ve known her for a while now too. She cares about you, Matt. And if you want to keep her, you’ve got to fight for her.”

“How? How do I compete? They have history, Liv. It’s not something I can wish away.”

“You’re not trying to compete, mate. You’re not Ewan, and you don’t need to be. But if you want to keep her, you need to remind her why. Woo her properly. Don’t wait around, hoping she’ll choose you by default. Give her a reason to.”

Matt considers her words carefully. “And how am I supposed to do that? Woo her properly with him in the mix?”

Liv’s eyes light up with a mischievous glint. “Leave that to me. I’ll help you.”

“You’re going to help me win her over?”

Liv shrugs, her smile widening. “Why not? You’re my friend, and you know, this could be fun.”

Matt wasn’t expecting Liv to offer her help. But now that she has, the idea of having someone in his corner, guiding him, feels like a lifeline.

As the sun sinks lower behind the hills, casting the patio in a dusky glow, he feels a glimmer of hope start to take root. For now, all he can do is wait.

But when the time comes, he’ll be ready.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

This chapter is late to the party, I know. But hey, at least the group ate with their shenanigans, alright? 😉

To the Ewan lovers, to the Matty enjoyers, to the Darling warriors—I think yous can see how things are falling into place now <3 Oh, and we'll see the outcome of Fabien's IG post in the next chapter.

Who will darling choose? Or is her choice already made? Chirp at me in the comments 💕

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #matt smith #matt smith x reader

421 notes · View notes

punkshort · 3 months ago

Text

In Another Life | Part II

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)

Chapter Summary: Danny unexpectedly drops Marcus off at your office, but it works to your advantage when you decide to use him as the subject for your next article, and your research brings the two of you much closer together.

Chapter Warnings: language, typical brother embarrassing his sister, threats of physical violence, a little fist fight, some blood from said fist fight, mention of drugs, jealousy, food consumption, fluff, flirting, sexual tension, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering

WC: 8.4K

Series Masterlist

Your apartment had devolved into utter chaos the last two days. It seemed like every time you rounded a corner, you had to dodge some person or scrap of metal or power tool, and it was getting on your last nerve. New York wasn't exactly known for spacious living arrangements as it was, so to have what little space you did covet overrun with your brother's shit really sent you into overdrive.

"Lizard's mom has a house in Queens, why the hell is all this shit here and not in her basement?" you snapped at Danny early one morning after you stubbed your toe on a drill.

"He's worried about her finding out what we're up to," Danny explained, and you immediately scoffed into your coffee.

"She's deaf in one ear and hasn't stepped foot in her basement since his dad died."

Danny agreed to move his time traveling project to Queens later that day.

The scowl on your face smoothed out the moment Marcus entered your kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking absolutely devastating in the pajama pants you had bought for him just a few days prior. It took all your willpower not to let your eyes drop below his waist, having already made that mistake the day before. The noticeable bulge hidden amongst the thin sleepwear had you spacing out the entire train ride to work and you couldn't afford any distractions that day. You had a big meeting at eleven where you had to present the next topic for your column and you were scrambling. The source you had for your long-distance relationship idea fell through last minute, so now you were tasked with brainstorming a spectacular backup plan in the next four hours.

"Morning, General. How did you sleep?" Danny asked as he scooped cereal into his mouth.

"Quite well, thank you," he replied, then his eyes met yours and he smiled. "Good morning, my lady."

You grinned like a school girl, your heart fluttering excitedly in your chest when you stammered, "G-good morning." Danny rolled his eyes but chose wisely to keep his mouth shut.

Marcus was able to find his way around by that point, however he still seemed hesitant to just start opening your drawers and cupboards when he needed something. Tired of reminding him to just help himself, you set down your coffee and picked up your loaf of bread from the corner of the counter.

"Same as yesterday?" you asked him as you popped two slices of bread in the toaster, anticipating his answer.

"Please," he said with a grateful nod, then dutifully clasped his hands at his waist.

When Danny watched you crack some eggs into a frying pan along with a few sausage links, his jaw dropped.

"You're making breakfast for him but not for me?" he whined.

You swiveled around and pointed your spatula in his face. "He is our guest, thanks to you," you reminded him, and Danny quickly shut up.

"I do not wish to be a burden," Marcus said. He hadn't moved but his broad frame felt like it took up the entire room.

"You're not a burden, Marcus," you told him softly, then gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"Yeah, no worries, man," Danny said, clapping him firmly on the shoulder before dumping his dirty dishes in the sink. "I'm just giving my sister a hard time because it's obvious she wants to jump your bones."

"Danny!" you shrieked while throwing an oven mitt at his head. He dodged it and ducked out of the kitchen, his laughter fading down the hall towards his bedroom.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you turned your focus back to the frying pan. When Marcus cleared his throat, you closed your eyes in dread because you knew what was coming.

"What did that mean, jump your bones?"

"Nothing, just ignore him," you said, sliding the eggs and sausage onto a plate. A few seconds passed when Danny's voice shouted down the hall, "It's a euphemism for sex!"

"Goddamnit," you muttered through clenched teeth. You began to storm out of the kitchen, prepared to kick Danny's ass, but Marcus shot an arm out to stop you.

"You look lovely today."

You gazed up at him, mouth agape, while you tried to find your voice.

Say something. Anything.

"Thanks. Uh, thank you," you mumbled, smoothing down the pink and white floral dress you picked out. On days where you had your big monthly meeting, you tried to make an effort to look like you belonged at a fashion magazine.

"Do you have plans today?" he asked, his eyes swooping down your frame appreciatively, and for once it didn't make your stomach turn when a man looked at you that way. "Daniel tells me there is a beautiful park in the city. I desire to see it and would very much enjoy your company."

You knew you were reading too much into it, but you couldn't help but feel like he was asking you on a date.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Marcus," you said, "I have to work today. But I promise we will see it before you go home."

Home.

His face fell at the word and he quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Of course, I understand. Thank you for breakfast," he said, sliding past you so he could pick up the plate you made for him. You chewed your lip and glanced at the time. If it were any other day, you would just call in sick, but today was too important to miss.

"I promise, okay?" you told him as you gathered your bags. "We will see Central Park before you leave. And whatever else you want."

He nodded and took a bite of his food. Although he appeared to be unbothered, you still felt an enormous amount of guilt.

"Danny!" you called from the front door, "this shit better be gone by the time I get home!"

"Yes, Mom!" he shouted back sarcastically from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes and gave Marcus a quick wave before hurrying out the door.

You were fucked.

You had one hour until your meeting and you had absolutely nothing.

Already, you had done your usual brainstorming techniques five times over. You scrolled through social media, hoping to find some trend or topic that might be popular and garner attention, but you were coming up dry, so you kept circling back to your long distance relationship idea. You had sent out every feeler you could think of, asking any of your usual contacts if they had anyone you could use for a story about your chosen topic, but so far you weren't having any luck.

Suddenly, your phone rang and you lunged for it, hoping it was a lead, then groaned when you saw Danny's contact picture pop up on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey..." he began, and you could tell by the tone in his voice that you should brace yourself.

"What did you do?"

He laughed on the other end. "I didn't do anything. Actually, I did do something - I am getting all this stuff out of your place, but there's just one thing."

"Spit it out," you said, your eyes flickering to the time. 45 minutes to go.

"I can't take Marcus with us to Queens. There's no room in Lizard's car."

"So let him stay in the apartment."

"I'm not leaving him all alone in New York City!" he protested. You heard some familiar sounds in the background of the call and you frowned.

"Where are you?"

Danny paused and you instantly began to put your defenses up.

"I'm... in your lobby. With Marcus and Lizard."

"You're what?!" you exclaimed in a loud whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody overheard you in your cubical.

"I told to him to just stay in the lobby and read your crappy magazines and if anyone asks, to tell them he's here for meeting."

"Danny! You can't do this, I can't babysit a fucking Roman General right now!"

You heard Danny walk a few paces away, presumably to get some privacy so Marcus wouldn't overhear, before he answered.

"He'll stay downstairs, I promise. I told him what floor you're on in case of an emergency but maybe you can pop down and take him for lunch. You've been making heart eyes at this Roman General for the past three days, don't try and lie."

Anger coursed through your veins but you were running out of precious time, so you gave up.

"Fine," you seethed.

"Great!" Danny said cheerily. "But I might not be back til late. We're burning tons of time moving all this stuff, we got work to do."

"So I have to bring him home?"

"Yes, you'll have to bring him home. You're going there anyway, aren't you? What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is he's going to be bored and lonely all day down there!" you snapped.

"He's not going to be bored. He's in New York City. The elevators alone are blowing his mind right now."

Despite yourself, you smiled when you remembered how in awe he was the first time he rode in an elevator.

"Tell him I'll be down to take him to lunch in like, a little over an hour. I have a meeting at eleven."

"You're the best!" Danny said, then before you could respond, the line went dead.

You grumbled obscenities under your breath when you heard a familiar voice say your name from the opening of your cube.

"Hey, ready for the meeting?" Matt asked. You practically dropped your phone from his sudden appearance and he chuckled. "Did I scare you?"

"Yes," you hissed as you began to gather your things, trying to hide your annoyance. You looked over the top of your cubical wall, hoping and praying you would see someone - anyone - else to walk with to the conference room, but you were shit out of luck.

"Doing anything fun tonight?" he inevitably asked, like he always did, and you sighed. You made the mistake of hooking up with him after one particularly rowdy work happy hour and ever since then, Matt's been waiting for his next opportunity. "I know a guy who works at that new French restaurant, I can get us a reservation and then, who knows..."

"I have a friend in from out of town," was all you said. No matter how many times you turned him down, he remained persistent.

"That's cool. Girls night, then?"

"My friend's a guy," you quickly corrected him.

Matt stumbled over his feet as you reached the conference room. It was the biggest one on your floor, directly across from the elevator banks. The entire wall was made of glass, floor to ceiling, so you could see through the room to the opposite wall, where there was a fantastic view of the city.

"Oh, like a cousin, or..."

"Nope," you replied, voice clipped so he knew the topic was closed. With a frustrated huff, Matt plopped down next to you and flipped open his portfolio. You gave him a sideways glance, momentarily feeling bad for him. He was by all accounts a good looking guy. He wrote a column for the men's health section and based on his physique, you assumed he practiced what he preached, but sadly his looks is where his good qualities came to an end.

Charlotte, your editor, breezed into the room, her presence enough to make everyone sitting at the long table quiet right down. She ghosted her palm over her perfectly coiffed grey hair and sat her portfolio down in front of her chair at the head of the table. As you got yourself organized, your mind scrambling to come up with a lie about a long distance relationship source, Charlotte placed her phone down delicately next to her leather portfolio, then slowly uncapped the expensive looking pen someone once told you was gifted to her by Marc Jacobs. Everybody watched and waited until she was ready, which was signified by a dainty clearing of her throat and a quick, sweeping glance over the table followed by a curt nod. At that point, the usual routine began.

Without having to be asked, one by one everybody took their turn presenting their idea for the month. Each person's name was listed on the agenda in the order Charlotte wished, and mercifully yours was dead last.

Your anxiety began to spike when Sara, the girl who was before you in nutrition started to wrap up her brief speech about some gluten free lifestyle benefit bullshit.

Keep it short. Keep it vague, and you'll figure it out later. Everyone wants to leave, it's almost lunch.

Then some movement by the elevators caught your eye. Your breathing ceased and you broke out into a cold sweat when you saw Marcus had stepped out of the elevator and was fucking talking to the receptionist. Then you locked eyes when they both turned to look towards the conference room.

"Shit," you whispered.

Matt nudged your ribs and you startled, glancing around the room to see Sara had sat down and half the table was staring at you, waiting for you to begin. You shakily stood up and swallowed the lump in your throat when Marcus began to weave his way towards you through the maze of cubicles.

Call it a stroke of genius or divine inspiration, but an incredible idea hit you right as you opened your mouth to speak. You had about half a second to decide if you should wing it and trust your gut or talk out of your ass about your first idea.

Fuck it.

"This month, I have a very interesting idea that I'm super excited about exploring," you began, watching when Marcus came to a stop outside the glass door. He looked back and forth, his fingers twitching at his sides. "My topic will be Romance without Technology," you announced with a confident smile. "I'll be researching how adults navigate their love lives without the help of dating apps, social media, or even texting," you said, listing each item on your finger as you spoke.

"Who's that guy?" Sara asked, pointing towards the door. It was at that point you realized most of the table was gawking at the tall, broad, handsome looking Roman General waiting to get your attention.

You smiled and walked toward the door with your arm outstretched.

"This is Marcus," you said, holding the door open and ushering him inside. He murmured your name but you cut him off. "He's the subject I'll be interviewing for this month's article. He doesn't use technology of any kind. In fact, he doesn't even own a cell phone."

The entire room gasped and Marcus looked around, confused, but understood what you needed him to do. He raised one arm up to greet the room and said, "Good morning."

Most of the women began to whisper excitedly to one another, shooting him looks and giggling behind their hands until Charlotte cleared her throat and once again, the room fell into silence.

You chewed your lower lip anxiously as you waited for Charlotte to silently appraise you both. Finally, you saw the corner of her mouth twitch and she gave you a barely perceptible nod.

"I look forward to reading it."

She stood abruptly and collected her things, signifying the end of the meeting, and relief flooded your veins.

"Are you okay?" you asked Marcus, pulling him to the side while the room stood and slowly filtered out. He nodded.

"Yes. There were many vehicles that passed by with bright lights and loud sirens. When I asked what it was for, I was told there was an emergency."

You giggled and shook your head. "So the fearsome General was scared?"

His brows knitted together for a moment before he answered.

"No. I grew concerned for your well being."

Your heart could have melted on the spot.

"Oh," you said softly, and just like that, the annoying little flutter in your chest was back. "I-I'm fine, but thank you. That was... that's really sweet, actually."

He grinned as his eyes swooped down your frame, causing butterflies to awaken in your stomach.

"Did you wanna get something to eat?" you asked as you stared up at him, his large frame making you feel so tiny in comparison. "It'll be on the company's dime since I kinda just signed you up to be the subject of my next article."

He cocked an eyebrow at you and shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis, the action bringing up the memory of you measuring his inseam and you felt your face begin to heat up. God, you must have looked ridiculous, standing there in front of Marcus in the middle of your office, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Of course," he replied, "but what do you intend to write about me?"

You grinned and hurried back to your abandoned chair, scooping up your things before pointing to the door.

"Let me drop this stuff off at my desk and I'll explain everything."

"My marriage was arranged," he reminded you from across the table draped in white linen. You decided to take him to a nicer steakhouse not too far from your office, one that didn't enforce a dress code but still had good food that you rarely sprung for out of your own pocket.

"I know, but I'm sure you can still give me an idea of what romance was like," you replied. "For example, did you get her any gifts? Give flowers? Take her to places that were meaningful to you? Or to her?"

Marcus dropped his gaze to the table and shrugged. "We knew each other for such a short period of time, there was unfortunately not much in the way of romance."

You clocked the forlorn look in his eye and began to feel guilty for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. I'll just make something up, don't worry about it. No one'll know."

"No, no, I wish to help," he said quickly, his hand stretching across the table to loop two of his fingers around yours. "Just because I do not have many personal stories to share does not mean I cannot help with your research."

"I don't want to reopen any old wounds," you explained, your eyes fixed on the way his hand linked with yours so naturally on the tabletop.

He chuckled softly, his smile causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle and a dimple to appear on his cheek.

"It was a very long time ago."

When your salads arrived at your table, Marcus released your hand to pick up his fork, frowning down at the bowl before asking, "This is the salad named after Julius Caesar?"

You giggled and shook your head, the sound causing him to lift his chin with a warm smile.

"No," you said once you collected yourself, "No, it's named after another Caesar. The guy who created it, I think."

Marcus didn't seem to mind he was wrong or that you found his error so funny. In fact, he enjoyed it.

"You have a beautiful laugh."

Instantly, your cheeks flushed and you shyly looked down to focus on your salad. "Thank you," you said softly.

He watched you silently for another minute more, admiring the way your eyes fluttered shut when you tasted something good or tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then took a hesitant bite of his salad.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you grinned from behind your napkin.

"Delicious."

You giggled again and nodded. "Yes, it is."

Once your salads were taken away and before your main course arrived, you pulled out a notebook and flipped to a blank page.

"Let's start from the beginning. You don't have to go into excruciating detail. Maybe just some things you know of that others did to... court women? Is that even the right word?" you mumbled the last part to yourself as you scribbled something at the top of your paper.

"It was seen as a sign of weakness for a man to become infatuated with a woman," he said, and you looked up at him in surprise.

"Why's that?"

"Marriages rarely were based on affection. They were viewed as a way to improve your social standing, but it was mutually beneficial," he explained, his finger tracing the design engrained in his fork. "Women were taken care of, looked after and tended to while the men were able to claim a high ranking senator or nobleman as their family. And, of course..." he trailed off, his cheeks staining pink when he dropped his gaze to the table and said, "received the traditional benefits of having a wife."

You smirked to yourself as you wrote notes on your pad of paper.

"Thought you were used to talking about sex openly," you teased. He cleared his throat and your pen paused over your paper to meet his eye.

"I admit, at times I feel nervous around you."

"Me?" you balked, but he just nodded and your brain scrambled for something to say that wouldn't entirely embarrass you. You landed on deflection.

"I thought it was a sign of weakness to grow infatuated?"

He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "I never said I agreed with that line of thought."

"No, I suppose you didn't," you said, shyly dropping your eyes to your paper. His gaze was too intense. Every time you looked at him it felt like he could see right through you. "So, tell me. Hypothetically. If we lived in Rome and I caught your eye, what would you do? How would you win me over?"

Marcus took a deep breath, his broad shoulders relaxing as he thought about your question for a moment, staring at your pen hovering over your paper.

"I would write you letters every day," he said softly, forcing your eyes back onto him. His voice was low and deep, smooth yet firm as he spoke. "I would write of your beauty. I would compare the color of your eyes to the flowers and fauna that grew in my garden, delicate and all encompassing. I would tell you how food tastes better on my tongue when you are around, and how I ache for you when you are not near. I would try to explain how difficult it is to breathe without you, and how I would gladly die a thousand deaths just to feel the softness of your lips against mine."

You stared at him, hand frozen where you left it resting on your notebook. He waited patiently until you finally blinked yourself out of your stupor and inhaled a shaky breath.

"Uh, s-so love letters, then," you stammered, shakily scribbling down something incoherent on your paper. Jesus fucking Christ, get it together.

"Yes. Love letters," he repeated. He sounded so cool and collected. How was he so relaxed? A moment ago, he was admitting you made him nervous. Maybe he was just better at hiding it than you.

Your server arrived and placed your food down in front of you, the heavenly scent wafting up and making your mouth water. Placing your pen down in favor of picking up your fork and knife, you asked, "Have you ever had steak?"

"I am not sure. What animal is it?" he asked, picking up his fork and testing the tenderness of his steak by giving it a little poke.

"It's cow. Try it, it's good."

"Cows were used for farming," he said before slicing a piece off and examining it closely. "We could not afford to slaughter them."

You watched as he popped a bite into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before giving you a smile and nod.

"Good?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat at finding another food he liked.

"Very," he replied once he swallowed. "You are quite perceptive and have good taste."

"Thank you," you answered, taking another bite and trying not to preen too much from the praise.

"So tell me," he said after he finished up his filet and moved on to his potato, which he eyed wearily. "Do you not receive love letters as a form of courtship?"

"Uh, no," you replied with a laugh. "Closest thing to that nowadays would be a text and even those are... sub par."

"So what is it that you do?"

"What do you mean?"

He pointed to your notepad with his fork. "For romance. What activities do you take part in?"

"Oh," you said, wiping your mouth and pushing your empty plate to the side. "You mean dates. Uh, this actually. Get dinner together. Sometimes see a movie," you paused and rethought your word choice when you saw his face. "A show, or a play. Um, sometimes go to a bar. Stuff like that."

He nodded and let your answer roll around in his head for a moment before asking, "So, is this a date?"

Marcus smiled when he saw you become flustered. You thanked the server for clearing your plates and leaving the bill before responding.

"Uh, I don't know," you finally said shyly, making his smile grow even wider. "Do you want - I mean, well... I'm technically working, but, you know, if - if that was something you were interested in, then, I guess w-we could classify this, or, you know, it could be construed-"

"Yes or no," he said, interrupting your insane ramblings with a soft look and an outstretched hand. Your face was hot with embarrassment but you reached out for his hand, anyway.

"Yes."

"Yes," he repeated, squeezing your fingers. You grinned and nodded, your stomach doing cartwheels as you tried to steady your breath.

Once you paid with your corporate credit card, you walked back out to the street, Marcus holding the doors open for you before offering you his hand. You sheepishly accepted it and walked a few paces in the direction of your office before he stopped you.

"Must you return to work?"

You gave him a sad smile and took a step closer. "Yeah, I'm sorry. But maybe I can play hooky tomorrow."

Marcus raised a curious eyebrow at you while playing with the material of your dress with his free hand, gently pinching and feeling the fabric between his fingers. "What does-"

"It means I'll call in sick without actually being sick so I can have the day off," you explained without him needing to finish asking.

He grinned and dropped your dress in favor of cupping your cheek. "I would like that very much."

"Me, too," you said, gazing up at him while leaning into his touch. His strong, calloused hand felt rough against your skin, but you liked it. As if reading your mind, he stroked his thumb over your cheekbone and murmured, "You are so soft."

You hummed, not trusting yourself to speak when you watched him slowly lean down to your level, your eyes fluttering shut as you waited to feel his mouth against yours. But just when his shadow got close enough to block the sun behind your eyelids, you heard someone shout your name.

You swiveled around angrily, your hand still laced together with Marcus's as you looked for the person who interrupted one of the more romantic moments of your life.

And then you saw Matt stalking up to you from the direction of the restaurant.

"Is this why you've been ghosting me?"

You frowned and tilted your head. "What?"

Matt came to a stop in front of you both and jutted his chin towards Marcus. "Too busy sleeping with your profiles to hang out?"

"W-what?" you stammered again, too shocked to fight back with your usual vigor. You felt Marcus stiffen next to you. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he immediately sensed your discomfort. "I'm not - this isn't-"

"Oh, sure," he sneered, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging out of his thin dress shirt. "I saw you two in there. You were three seconds away from crawling into his lap."

Your mouth hung open in shock and humiliation. "Were you following me?"

Before Matt could answer, Marcus took a step forward.

"I am going to have to insist you stop yelling," he seethed, and even though Matt followed his own advice in his articles and worked out plenty, Marcus still towered over him.

Matt's eyes went wide for just a moment before his bravado returned. "C'mon, man. She's just using you, don't you see that?" Matt prodded, then he scoffed. "Unless you're good with it. Then by all means, have fun. She's a good fuck but I don't think she's got much else."

It all happened so fast, you couldn't remember Marcus dropping your hand and cocking his fist. You couldn't remember the first sickening crunch of his knuckles against Matt's nose, but you did remember hearing his pained howl.

Marcus only landed a few more blows before you came to your senses and tugged him by the shoulder. It was laughable to think you would be strong enough to move him, but you must have also said something because Marcus immediately stopped and turned back to you.

"Jesus Christ!" you cried shakily, hands trembling as they hovered in the air. You weren't sure what to do and people were staring as they walked by, driving up your anxiety. Marcus was fine except for his skinned knuckles, but Matt was much worse. He had a busted lip and already a bright blue shiner forming on his cheekbone, and when he stood to face you both, you noticed another cut on the other cheek.

"The fuck is wrong with you!" he spat, blood dripping down his chin.

"Mind how you speak to women and perhaps they will wish to spare you their time," Marcus snarled. Matt turned his attention to you, the pad of his thumb swiping against his lower lip.

"Who is this guy? What the fuck is his deal?"

You took a deep breath, your mind settling and your fortitude returning.

"If you had just backed off when I said no the first dozen times, maybe you didn't have to find out!"

"Oh, come off it. You like the chase. You get off on guys trailing after you-"

"You're the only fucking one, Matt!" you yelled, no longer caring who was looking. "We hooked up once, years ago, and you just can't take the hint! I'm not interested!"

His eyes clouded with disbelief as he propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one foot, standing there as if he were somehow new to being shot down.

"I'm telling Charlotte about this. About your little..." he trailed off and gestured vaguely over your shoulder, "guard dog. I'm sure she will love to hear about one of your profiles assaulting an employee."

You crossed your arms defiantly and made a face. "Oh, yeah? Do that and I'll recommend to HR they give you a drug test."

His face paled for a moment but he tried to hide it. "Drugs? I'm not on drugs."

"Oh, so you're telling me your balls are just naturally that shriveled up and small? Because, shit," you laughed, "if it's not steroids, you might want to see a doctor about that. That's not normal."

Matt swallowed tightly and clamped his mouth shut. You smiled and turned around to Marcus, who had been listening to your entire argument and probably understanding less than half of it.

"Let's go."

You tugged on his arm and he obediently followed, leaving Matt to lick his wounds.

"Your work - the building is the other way."

"I know," you said, raising your arm to hail a cab. "I'll figure something out. We're going home."

Marcus watched as you paced around your kitchen, phone pressed against your ear as you spoke to your boss and faked a sudden illness that included the word cramps. When you finished up, you looked over at him from across the room.

He looked so normal now. Sure, he spoke a little strangely but without his tunic, clad in khakis and a polo shirt, he looked like he fit right in. Like he always belonged right there.

"I don't think I even thanked you," you said. Marcus smiled and shrugged.

"No need."

He was so damn adorable, it was killing you. "I've never met anyone like you before," you confessed, leaning a hip against the edge of your counter.

"In a good way, I hope?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. You giggled and nodded, the sound making his heart soar.

"Yes, in a good way."

He brought his hand up to smooth over his mouth nervously and your stomach dropped.

"Oh, my god! Your hands!" you exclaimed, crossing the room to snatch one of his massive hands within both of yours.

"It is alright, there is no-"

"Come on, let me clean up your knuckles at least," you said, pulling him towards your tiny bathroom, which somehow felt even smaller when you were both crowding the space. "Sit here," you told him, pointing towards the closed toilet seat, "I have some stuff somewhere," you muttered under your breath as you rifled through the medicine cabinet behind your mirror, then tugged open the drawer in the vanity that always stuck. Marcus did as he was told and watched you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Ah ha!" you announced victoriously when you held up a bottle of clear liquid and a box of bandages. He smiled as you washed your hands before meticulously laying everything out you would need. Picking up a cotton ball, you doused it with the liquid and turned to him, having little choice but to stand between his knees and lifting one of his hands to look at it closer.

He splayed his hand out flat, palm pressing against your palm while you carefully dabbed at the dried blood.

"You have laid with that man before?" he asked out of the blue. Your cheeks felt warm when you nodded and avoided his eye.

"A long time ago. It was a mistake."

He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, just watched as you tenderly cared for his broken skin, your proximity and touch overwhelming his senses.

"Did he mistreat you?"

Quickly, you shook your head. "Oh god, no, nothing like that," you told him. "It just... wasn't a good fit."

Marcus couldn't stop staring at the soft slopes of your face and the bright sparkle in your irises, growing infatuated with the way your brow scrunched together in concentration while you worked.

"Did he not worship you?" he asked softly, watching as your breath hitched and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Uh, no," you finally said, setting down the cotton ball in favor of a tube with some salve. You squeezed a small dot onto your finger and began to apply it carefully to his knuckles. "Can't say there's been a lot of worshipping happening in my life," you added with a dry chuckle.

"No?"

You shook your head and wiped your finger with a tissue and tried not to let his injured hand that had fallen to your hip distract you.

"No," you whispered, your shaky voice betraying you.

He tsked and brought his other hand up to your hip, slowly splaying his fingers wide and crumpling the fabric of your dress. "Shameful. You deserve to be worshipped."

All of the air rushed from your lungs, your body thrumming with desire. Marcus noticed the fine hairs on your arms raise when goosebumps flashed across your skin and he delicately picked up your hand, flipping it over so he could press a kiss against the inside of your wrist.

His deep brown eyes met yours and with his lips still brushing against your skin, whispered, "Will you allow me to worship you?"

You found yourself nodding before your voice had a chance to catch up with you, then his hands gently cupped your face and pulled you down to his level. The moment your lips finally met, you forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to think. His lips were so unexpectedly soft and tender as they slowly massaged against your own that it sent you into a tailspin.

You pressed your mouth against his with a little more force, the fear that he may just stop at one kiss gripping your throat and driving you forward. He made a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat when you began to kiss him with more intensity, but he didn't skip a beat. He tightened his hold on your face, fingers dimpling your cheeks and his nose bumping lightly against yours.

Your hands pressed against his chest, then your fingers curled to grip his shirt, wanting to tug him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere but you were still in your stupid fucking tiny bathroom and it was difficult to maneuver. Seemingly anticipating your next move, you felt Marcus stand. Your head tipped back, neck craned upwards at an impossible angle, refusing to break the kiss even for a moment so he began to carefully walk you backwards towards the door. Every step towards your bedroom felt like you were walking deeper and deeper into the sea, drowning in his overwhelming presence and touch.

Marcus's palm slid over your shoulder, down your arm and only stopping when he found your ribs. He wound his arm around you as you both stumbled through your doorway with as little grace as you would expect from two people growing more and more intertwined by the moment.

Once you felt your mattress pressing into the backs of your knees, you released your death grip on his shirt so you could reach behind you and unzip your dress. The cool air washed over your bare skin when it pooled around your feet and suddenly, you felt extremely exposed. What kinds of women was he used to being with? It felt like every day when you went into work you learned something new that men found desirable in women. How could you possibly be expected to keep up in the modern world, let alone with what Marcus might find appealing?

But when his palm reconnected with your middle and he felt your smooth skin under his hand, he grew desperate for more to the point where you could sense it, pushing your insecurities to the back of your mind. His injured hand left your cheek so he could glide both massive hands over the soft swell of your curves, his fingers twitching as he sought out more of your skin but when he came in contact with your bra, his hands stopped.

You could feel his hesitation by the way his lips stalled against yours so you took his hands and wrapped them around your back, wordlessly guiding him to the clasp as your tongue slid inside his mouth.

He figured out the hooks on your bra after only one or two fumbles and it dropped to the floor to join your dress.

"Fuck," he whispered when he finally managed to pull away to admire your nearly naked body. Your eyes widened with surprise.

"I don't think I've heard you curse before."

He inhaled a ragged breath, his eyes still drinking you in when he murmured, "I did not have a reason to before now."

He gently grazed over your breast, barely even touching you while he watched with fascination as your nipple tightened from the brief contact. "You have stirred something within me," he said softly, his eyes and hands continuing to roam. "Something I believed did not exist for a long time."

You leaned into his touch when he cupped your breast, enraptured with how soft you felt under his hand. Your fingers curled around the waistband of his khakis, sliding your nails across his lower stomach, across the coarse hair you very much wished to see while his mouth descended on your throat. His beard tickled the spot below your ear and it sent a shudder down your spine. His lips curved into a smile against your skin at the involuntary movement and he asked, "What else do you like?"

It was becoming difficult to breathe. The way he was so slow and careful yet sure of himself was unlike anything you had ever experienced before with a man. It was making your knees weak and your head swim.

When it took too long for you to answer his question, he lightly pinched your skin between your teeth, causing warmth to bloom just underneath the mark.

"T-touch me," you stammered, your eyes sliding closed and your head tipping back, surrendering yourself completely to his prowess.

His hand slipped down your body, over your stomach and underneath your panties. You gasped sharply when you felt one thick finger part your folds, sliding over your clit and dipping into your entrance, drenching him with your arousal.

"Lay down for me," he whispered in your ear while wrapping his free arm around your back, holding you steady so you didn't collapse from the torture of his singular finger working in and out.

He laid you down carefully in your bed, his hand never losing its rhythm and his mouth still ghosting over your neck and chest.

You whined and bucked your hips under him, fingers getting tangled in his thick curls while he whispered words of adoration into your skin, imprinting himself on you forever.

He could feel you growing rigid, your muscles tense and your exhale coming in short bursts. He brushed his lips over yours at the same time his thumb grazed over your clit, making your jaw drop and a sob erupt from your throat.

"Relax," he murmured, increasing the speed of his wrist while slowly sliding his tongue alongside yours. "Relax and let go for me, cor mea," he said against your mouth.

Your body convulsed beneath him when he brought you to your climax with just one finger. His mouth locked over yours, swallowing down your cries and allowing them to feed his ever growing desire. When you whimpered and lightly pushed his hand away, he withdrew from between your legs but continued to deepen the kiss. It was so sweet and loving that it sent you reeling, wondering how you would ever find satisfaction from another man again after Marcus.

"Take these off," you breathed, tugging on his belt loops. He reared back to sit on his heels while deftly undoing the button and zipper of his khakis, leaving them gaping open at his waist before yanking his polo shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. You bit your lip, admiring his bare chest for the first time while he pushed his pants down and kicked them off.

"Christ," you muttered, eyes trailing over his tanned and scarred skin. You reached out and traced a particularly jagged one on his shoulder but he was more focused on ridding you of your underwear. If you ever questioned the validity of his time traveling story, any doubt was erased from your mind when you saw his body.

"Did these hurt?"

He paused and followed your gaze to his marked up torso.

"Some, at the time, yes."

Your expression softened to one of pity as you continued to scan his body, losing count of the shiny, pale scars.

"W-what... how did these..." you trailed off, unable to keep the emotion from your voice. Marcus cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss against your lips.

"It is alright. I have been in many battles. It is my job, and just like yours, I must do it."

You laughed but you didn't really find it funny. "You risk your life every day while I write about best places to take a first date or what to do if you're faking orgasms with your boyfriend. You can't compare the two."

Marcus cocked an eyebrow as he hovered above you. "And do you have much experience faking orgasms?"

You felt your face flush. You knew he was just trying to distract you, but it was working. "Some."

He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose, then each one of your eyelids before asking, "But not a moment ago?"

You shook your head and raked your fingers through his hair, making him growl at the sensation of your nails across his scalp. While he focused on positioning himself at your opening, you dragged your mouth over his shoulder, tongue dipping to trace over his scar. You couldn't do anything about them now except show them love, something you were realizing Marcus was desperately lacking in his life back home.

Home. The thought entered your brain right when he first pushed inside you, stealing the air from your lungs and bringing tears to your eyes. You did your best to brush it aside and focus on the present, like the way he stretched you open or the soft noise he made when he fully sheathed his heavy length deep within you.

"Fuck," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders while you tried to get your bearings.

He released a groan so guttural and deep it had you squeezing around him. Your mouth found a home on his neck as he slowly began to rock his hips, your lips and teeth leaving temporary marks over his skin to join the scars. Every kiss was slow, every touch was attentive and it was hard to stop yourself from giving into him.

"You - oh," he moaned, eyes sliding shut as he lost himself in the moment. It might have been the first time you'd seen him ever falter, and the thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. "You are so soft and beautiful," he mumbled before finding your mouth once again and plunging his tongue past your teeth. "I fear it is almost too much for me to bear," he confessed between kisses.

Marcus was unlike any man you had ever met in so many ways. His vulnerability staggered you. Most men you had known would consider it weak or embarrassing to speak the way he spoke, but Marcus managed to do it without sacrificing an ounce of his raw masculinity.

His broad shoulders and thick arms caged you in, giving you a feeling of safety and security you never felt before with another person. It was always you who had to be strong, who had to figure everything out and be responsible. And for once, with Marcus, it felt like you could let go and not have to worry.

Your body relaxed beneath him, legs spreading even wider to accommodate his powerful thrusts. He pulled an arm out from underneath you to press down on your thigh, pushing it into the mattress next to you in order to open your hips up even more. Then he leaned up just a fraction so he could grind his hips against you with his new found space, drawing a shaky moan from your throat when he came in contact with your clit.

Marcus paid attention. He took note of what you liked, what made you writhe and gasp and he teased you with it until you were begging him for more. He couldn't deny you, so he gave you what you asked. When you whined for him to go faster, he did. When you begged him to touch you, he did. He gave you everything you asked for until your legs trembled and your breath quickened and you were tossing your head back into your pillow, his name on your lips as you fell apart for him.

Then you gazed up at him, eyes smoldering, your lips swollen and parted and looking more beautiful and satisfied than he ever could imagine. Pulling him down to you by the back of his neck, you whispered his name in his ear and he shuddered, his hips faltering for a moment all because of one simple word from your lips.

"Marcus," you whispered again, mouth sucking a bruise into his neck. "Are you going to come for me?"

"Yes," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he neared his peak. A lazy smile spread across your face, body still flooding with pleasure as he fucked you a little harder seeking his own.

His hand fell to your side, pulling you closer, rolling your hips in rhythm with his, and with his teeth bared and eyes flashing with hunger, he came with a broken groan that sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped at the feeling of him emptying himself inside you, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy. His mouth crashed over yours with your eyes still closed. Your tongues danced together, first with lust, then once your heart rates slowed and your skin stopped tingling, with something more. Something like longing and desperation to hold onto the moment as long as you possibly could.

You both spent a little too long sharing tender kisses and gentle touches. For once, the world around you ceased to make noise and the only thing that mattered was what to order for dinner so you didn't have to leave your bed the rest of the night. You picked Mediterranean food and spent the hour after it was delivered discussing how it compared to the food he was used to, neither of you daring to mention the elephant in the room.

You curled up into his side, his arm draped around you, his back leaning against your headboard as you watched a romantic comedy together. Just as you were explaining the plot and how you had used the movie as inspiration for an article the year prior, a breakthrough was happening in Queens.

The volume on your phone was off and neither of you were paying attention to it lighting up on your nightstand, too busy ignoring the movie in favor of fusing your lips together again with your limbs slowly tangling together under the covers to notice the text come through.

Danny: staying in Queens for the night, we're on a roll. The mighty General shall be out of your hair b4 you know it.

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #in another life fic #marcus acacias smut

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freshxsturniolo · 4 months ago

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JULY 4TH PT3 - chris sturniolo x reader

pt1 pt2

you pull up outside the triplets house later than evening, admittedly feeling a lot fresher than you had this morning. after your first initial texts with chris, you ended up falling asleep for another hour or so before being awoken by jake, who was begging you and tara to help him clean their apartment. you reluctantly got out of bed, but after a coffee (or two), you felt the movment had helped you come alive slightly, but in and out was still the only thing you wanted to eat after nibbling on a slice of toast all day.

keeping your date a secret however, you should have known was not going to happen. when you annoyed your departure from the three boys house finally, you were met by a load of stares. in their hungover states they were all planning on watching movies and order takeout, so you had no choice but to tell them.

"im meeting a friend" you had said when jake had given you an eye. you notice the smirk from your best friend tara as the words leave your mouth but you do your best to avoid eye contact, but a smirk comes over jakes face immediately.

"his name chris by any chance?" he says.

you eyes divert to tara immediately, and she holds her hands up in surrender. "dont look at me" she laughs, and you cant help but chuckle as you turn around to leave, knowing that tara would likely fill the 3 boys in, but as you leave you're only met with a chorus of claps and woops.

"so annoying" you mutter, which they hear as they all erupt into laughter.

you spend the next hour at your own place, panicking about what to wear. you're dying to text chris but the lack of communication since your earlier messages felt exciting, making you giddy almost. so you settle for a comfortable pair of shorts with a baggy tee, your favourite earrings and a small subtle amount of make up with some lip gloss. giving yourself a once over in the mirror, you smile before putting your converse on and head to your car.

so now you sit here, waiting for chris to emerge from his house, you lean across to look in the mirror and apply another layer of lipgloss just to keep yourself busy before you drum your fingers across your steering wheel, turning up the song you were playing through the bluetooth before you finally see him walking down the driveway.

you smile as you take in him in. sweatpants and a black tee, casual but somehow cool, hair so clearly freshly washed. his stubble from yesterday now gone. and he gives you a smirk as soon as he sees you looking, but you already feel so comfortable in his presence so smirk back, causing him to laugh and shake his head. when he finally gets to your passenger side and open the door, you bend your head to see it.

“your carriage awaits. in and out was it?”

he ignores you, gets in the car, shuts the door, and then finally swivels his head to look at you.

“you’re worse than matt. and i’ve been in the car 3 seconds”

you laugh, throwing your head back causing a chuckle to escape his lips.

“sorry” you say, looking towards him again. “i couldn’t resist. but seriously, in and out?”

“i’m starving” he mutters, and you nod in agreement with a smile on your face, putting the car back in drive and setting off down the street.

the nearest in and out is only a 5 minute drive away, and you spend those 5 minutes chatting about the night before. laughing about certain moments you had forgotten about till he has bought them up. by the time you pull up for food, your stomach hurts from laughing and your fear your mascara has likely leaked down your face. turning off the ignition, you lean to look into the rear view mirror to double check, and you become aware how dangerously close you are to chris. he’s quite as you wipe at your under eyes, and when you finally move back to your original position and turn to him, he’s smiling.

“you’re beautiful, ya know?”

“chris” you laugh, suddenly feeling flustered, your cheeks going a tinge of red.

he smiles as he looks at you, before looking out towards the restaurant. it’s busy, you notice. the line is long and there’s people sat on almost every table. even from sitting in your car and looking through the window you can hear the hustle and bustle, people likely in the same hungover state as you.

“i got an idea” chris says, and you snap your head back to look at him.

“go on?”

he looks back at the resturant one more time, before looking to you again.

“why don’t we get it to take out, and come back to mine? we can eat on the sofa, we can watch a movie …”

your hearts racing at the thought. truthfully, a night in sounded a lot better than sitting in a stuffy burger place and you tried to keep calm as you answered him.

“will you brothers mind?”

chris smiles. “they’re not in.”

you look at him for a second, his plump lips all of a sudden looking super inviting, but you smile.

“okay.”

“yeah?”

“yeah” you smile.

“perfect. come on” he says now, opening up the car door and stepping outside.

you follow his actions, grabbing your phone and keys and stepping outside, locking the car and putting all your belongings in your pocket before you walk around the car to meet chris who’s waiting for you on the sidewalk. when you reach him you smile, and you realise in that moment you had never formally even said hello, so you smirk.

“hi” you say, and his eyes divert straight to your lips.

“hi” he mutters, and that force is back. you can feel it, he can feel it, and then he finally takes a step towards you.

“this is possibly the least romantic place in the world, but can i kiss you?” he whispers, and you let out a laugh as you step closer to him too.

“you don’t even need to ask” you whisper back, and it takes him no time at all to press his lips to yours. soft, gentle, just a peck that lingers for a couple of seconds before he pulls away again. you can feel your heart beat racing as you look back into his eyes, before a laugh escapes you both.

suddenly, your appetite for food is completely gone and been replaced by something else.

TAGLIST : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss @slut4chriss @valkatriee @sturnsjtop @viiiwwwee @gwennysturniolo @melanch0lybby @sturnioloblues

#chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #Jake webber #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #tara yummy #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic

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zepskies · 6 months ago

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Down to the Crust

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…

AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…

Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet

Word Count: 2.6K

Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~

No, no, no, no, NO!

You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.

You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!

You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now.

Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).

How hard could a pie really be?

Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.

Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.

Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.

Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)

Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…

You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.

Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.

You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.

You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.

However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.

“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.

Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.

An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.

“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.

You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.

“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.

Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.

The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.

“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.

You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.

He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.

“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.

Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”

“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.

“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”

Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.

He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.

Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?

“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.

“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.

Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.

“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”

You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”

House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.

Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.

Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.

He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.

Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.

“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.

You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.

“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.

Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.

“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”

You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.

“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.

Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.

The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.

Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.

Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.

He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.

You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.

Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.

Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.

“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.

His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.

He softened, and he went to you.

“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”

You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears.

“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.

You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.

Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.

“Then what’s it about?” he asked.

You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.

“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.

You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.

To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.

“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”

Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.

The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.

Jack had killed their mom.

She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.

“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”

Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.

Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.

It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.

He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.

“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.

You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.

When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.

You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.

His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.

He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.

“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.

“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.

You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.

“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.

Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).

“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.

“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”

At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.

“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”

He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.

“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.

You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.

“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.

Dean pretended to think.

“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”

And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.

You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.

“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.

“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.

You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.

It was sweet enough on its own.

AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

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balsee · 1 month ago

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Hear me out? What if reader gave Sanji an apron that says “Kiss The Chef” she got it as ‘a joke’ and now, any time he makes/cooks something for the crew he only puts it on just for her and asks for a kiss before he gives her a plate of food. 🤣

I HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR! <33

It started as a joke.

It's nearly lunchtime on the Thousand Sunny, and you innocently make your way from your bedroom onto the deck, holding your purchase behind your back. The rest of your crew was so wrapped up in their own leisurely pleasures that you walk by them, completely unnoticed, and make a beeline for the kitchen. Upon entering, you see Sanji putting together a plate of finger sandwiches, and he doesn't even notice as you walk up to him; he's much too focused on putting little garnishes on the plate. (Cucumber roses, you notice. You could die on the spot it's so cute).

You clear your throat. "Sanji?"

He glances up from his work, and immediately breaks out into a grin. You'll never get over that, how easy it is for Sanji to smile at the sight of you. It's as if your mere presence alone was enough to make him happy, and while you were never the self-deprecating type, never did you think that you would have that sort of affect on someone.

"Yes, darling?" He asks, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Lunch is almost ready, but if you're hungry now, I can give you a small plate of fruit salad until it's time to eat."

You smile. "No, thank you, Sanji. Actually, I have something for you."

At this, Sanji blinks. "You do?"

"Yup!" you're starting to fidget, unable to tamper down a giddy, goofy smile, and he notices.

"What is it, love?" he asks with a laugh, and you bounce on the balls of your feet before you pull your hands from behind your back in a dramatic flourish.

It's a pink apron, with the words, "Kiss the Cook" in black cursive printed across the front; a red kiss mark replacing the dot of the letter 'i.' "Ta-da!" you sing, brandishing the apron. "Do you like it?"

Sanji seems at a loss for words, and whatever he's currently feeling, he manages to mask. "Where did you get this?"

"At that spring island we left yesterday," you explain. "I saw it in a window when I was shopping with Nami, and I thought it was perfect for you."

"F-for me?"

"Yes, silly, it's a gift!"

You're expecting Sanji to get embarrassed, or to take it in a way that clearly shows he's forcing himself to like it; but to your surprise, he positively melts.

"You got me a gift?" his voice is almost awed, and before you can say anything, he takes the apron from you. "Thank you, darling, really." You're a little taken aback, he's so sincere that you laugh.

"It was a joke, Sanji. A gag gift. I don't expect you to wear it."

"Of course I'm going to wear it!" he insists, and his usual lovesick enthusiasm comes back. "A beautiful, enchanting lady bought it for me! How could I deny such a heartfelt display from you?" and then to prove his point, he puts the apron on. "See? It's perfect."

***

You soon realize that the apron poses a problem. Sanji isn't embarrassed to be seen with it on, far from it, actually. But when Zoro made some crack about him being 'whipped' one evening in regards to the apron, Sanji had kicked him out of the kitchen after dinner was over, claiming that the "empty-headed, brain-dead" swordsman was too stupid to understand the importance of such a gift. And while you were happy Sanji ended up liking your little joke, a new problem starts to surface.

He'll put the apron on only for you, and tries to get a kiss.

"Y'know, for a simple kiss, I can sneak you another slice of cake." he said one night, when the dishes were cleaned and he was piping frosting along a pound cake.

"In your dreams, Sanji." you sing, and swipe a finger of icing before heading to the door.

He had tried several times after that, so sly and genuine that you almost felt bad for shooting him down. On his fourth attempt, he begs outright, completely and utterly shameless.

"Can't you see what you're doing to me, Mon coeur?" he asks, a steaming plate of paella in one hand yet to be given to you. "A kiss from you would mean the world to me, there's nothing else that would compare." he leans in ever so slightly, slightly pink-faced and pleading; there's a ruined look on his face that has your blood spiking dangerously. "What more do I have to do, sweet thing?"

You scrutinize him closely. Seconds tick by.

Sanji starts to compose himself, an easy smile on his face, as if he hadn't just made a fool of himself mere seconds ago, and his voice is soft. "Ah, don't worry, I'm just teasing. Perhaps another time--"

Before you can back out, you lean forward and kiss him, true and sweet. Time stops in a moment of pure perfection before it resumes. In a flash you pull away, but the soft feeling of his lips against yours remains. "There you go!" you smile at him, as cheerful as ever, and quickly take the paella from his hands before heading to the door. Normally, you don't eat food on the deck aside from sweets, but you want to hide your shaking hands and the incredible blush rising to your face.

As the door swings shut behind you, Sanji all but collapses onto the counter, and thinks that he's never been more grateful for a joke.

#gosh i'm a sucker for ideas like this #I'AM KISSING HIM SILLY!#I hope this is good I swear I don't write fic #but thank you for the suggestion! it made me happy to write this!!#sanji x reader

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imagineredwood · 9 months ago

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Group HC - The Boys reactions to getting caught stealing your panties 👙

I know. I know. It’s terrible and gross and icky I KNOW 😭😭 but I saw HCs for another shows characters around this idea and I couldn’t get it out of my head and it triggered the memory that this is actually canon for Juice and…yeah. Here we are 🧍🏻‍♀️

He’s not sorry. Or embarrassed. He loves you, loves everything about you. He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He worships you and the ground beneath your feet. So why wouldn’t he steal your panties? They’re yours, and they rest against his most favorite part of you all day 🤷🏻‍♀️ He won’t apologize, not even when your face heats up and you cover it with both hands. On the contrary, he probably makes a show of taking one out of the secret pile and sniffing it. He’s nasty, and he knows regardless of how you feel about it, you know he does it out of love and devotion. So he’s ok with it. And he’s not gonna stop.

He’s ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. Felt weird and invasive, but he couldn’t help it. He just loves you so much, and he gets lonely when you’re apart, and it smells like you. What else was he supposed to do? He would never cheat, would never even dream of it. But the stress of the club gets to him, especially the more complicated things get, he just needs comfort and relief, and when he saw them laying there in the hamper, he snagged it without thinking. Then he couldn’t stop, even when he knew he should. Even goes as far as offering to take apart the washer saying that maybe the machine is eating them 👀 He apologizes, cheeks tinted red, eyes downcast and hopes you don’t hold it against him. He’ll ask before he takes them next time, scouts honor.

Like Angel, he’s not embarrassed. He just shrugs, telling you that you’re his girl and your pussy is his, so why can’t he just take them? �� He buys you new pairs every now and then anyway. So he wants to smell you randomly throughout the day, whats the harm in that? He just misses you. And likes to look at the pair and reminisce about times he’s taken them off of you. Is that a crime? He even reaches into his kutte and pulls out the pair that he’s kept on him today to show that it’s no big deal, and they’re the ones from yesterday, you recognize.

He’s bashful, arguably, but not necessarily embarrassed. It’s more about getting caught than it is the actual act. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He’s not sorry for taking them, he’s just sorry that it’s kinda awkward for you to find the stash. He laughs awkwardly, shrugging it off or trying to anyway. Explains that he just rarely gets time to himself, so he is uses them when he’s alone in Templo to get his mind right. That your scent calms him and helps his focus. He didn’t think you’d mind too much, he just also never expected you to find out.

He's not sorry in the slightest and he makes sure you know it too. He bought every pair anyway, what's the issue? He could buy you 30 pairs by lunch 🙄 He wasn't up from about it, no, but he also didn't necessarily hide it. It just wasn't entirely in the open. You're respectful and don't go through his stuff in his office so how would you have known he had an entire drawer of his desk with them all collected in there? You'll get over it, a few new lingerie sets will make sure of that.

The OG of panty stealing and sniffing himself. It’s canon after all. He just can’t help himself. You’re his moon and stars and he just can’t get enough of you. Even when you’re perched in his lap, cockwarming him, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, it’s not enough. He needs to be in your skin. But he can’t. So stealing your panties is the next best thing. It’s a compulsion he can’t fight. God knows he’s tried. And he tells you as much. Lists all of the things he did first to try and not have to submit to that desire. But in the end it didn’t matter. He just needs to have your most intimate article with him at all times. Keeps He doesn’t want you to think he’s a freak but he also just need you to know how much he absolutely loves, adores, and worships you. He’ll even hand over the pair in his pocket if you ask him to.

He's nonchalant about it. It's just panties. You have a bunch more. Not like you were gonna miss them or something. He just loves you and likes to have something of yours that he can keep nearby when he misses you. One in his pocket, one in the sale bag of his bike tucked away hidden. His stash is dispersed, not because he was necessarily hiding them, but because there's one each place that will serve a purpose.

Also not embarrassed. Hits you with that famous smirk, his shoulders shrugging as you stare at him waiting for an answer. "Just miss you sometimes, Darlin'. Just somethin' to get me by." Like it's perfectly normal. He left you your favorite pairs after all. He only takes the ones you're not the biggest fan of, so you wouldn't notice as quickly. It's not a big deal, he can give them back. Sometimes he just needs to sit in the chapel with them over his face while he strokes himself before Church so he can make sure he has a level head before this important vote.

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @destynelseclipsa @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester @alexxavicry @savagemickey03 @fanfic-n-tabulous @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @wrcn9fvlcver @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @appropriate-writers-name @blessedboo @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @myakai13

@cruzwalters @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty @lyly00 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous @90sisthenew80s @lovelytricia @librarian1002

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perfectlyoongi · 3 months ago

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ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who bakes cakes with you in the early hours of the morning when the whole city is still asleep. three or four in the morning were sacred hours in your house as autumn approached. with matching aprons and wine glasses in hand, you and Jungkook followed instructions as disorganized as possible, hoping to find some cake batter or cookies in the midst of your laughter. the music played low, remaining completely silent when you and Jungkook exchanged jokes and visions, but always lulling you into a little dance that lasted the entire morning. at six in the morning you sat at the table tasting your creation before saying goodbye and falling asleep in your rooms. “today i want an orange cake. i know it’s late, but do you want to do one with me? i found two recipes that might be good. i’ll even let you have the first slice.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who has a collection of photos and videos of you that you might consider embarrassing. Jungkook seemed to have a certain gift when it came to humiliating you: whenever you were distracted, or too involved in something, Jungkook made a point of saving everything on his phone, creating a folder in his gallery with just your photos. you could say it was a hobby of Jungkook’s that always made him happy, as it was in these more personal moments that your soul truly shined and oh, how he was in love with that light. “you are so done on your birthday. you’ll see, i’ll post the photos i took of you in the car yesterday. you were beautiful. the world needs to see your natural beauty.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who always orders your favorite pizza when he doesn’t feel like cooking. you shared the household chores, it was an agreement that was quickly made by you as soon as you became housemates; but there were days when Jungkook came home more tired, or even after dinner, and there was no desire or patience to cook. as such, Jungkook would order your favorite pizza from your favorite pizzeria and, after paying for it, he would call you over for dinner while he went to bed. in a way, you were always Jungkook’s priority. “hi, the work ran a little late today, sorry. i already called for your favorite pizza and you have the money here. i hope you eat well. i’m really tired. good night, angel. good night.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who buys letter magnets to communicate with you on the fridge when your are mismatched. there were times when you would get home when Jungkook had just left. there were times when Jungkook would go to sleep when you were preparing lunch. there were days when you didn’t even see each other. but as you shared a house, communication was essential to make that experience comforting. so Jungkook bought a large number of colorful magnets in the shapes of letters for you to use as a means of communication. they were only used for basic things, of course, but it was still a very tender gesture on Jungkook’s part. “buy bread. dinner 8pm. seal.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who always gives you a ride in winter, even if it’s just to get bread. Jungkook was so warm and helpful. if you needed something he was there to make sure you didn’t miss anything. and, when the weather was more brutal, with snow and rain decorating the streets, Jungkook always made a point of taking you wherever you needed to go, secretly keeping in his heart all the streets shared with you, shouting the most popular songs in the radio. it could be mere minutes, but it was enough to leave Jungkook completely surrendered to you. “don’t be stupid. with this cold? you may get sick and then what? i don’t know how to take care of myself, let alone you! I’m looking out for your well-being, that’s all.”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who plays drunk uno with you on long summer nights. when the boredom was a lot and the nights were too hot, you and Jungkook decided to distract yourself with a simple game of cards. changing some of the rules, you and Jungkook agreed to play several games of uno until one of you was too happy to continue. there were screams and laughter, a lot of cheating and distortions, long nights enveloped in pure happiness and complicity. without there ever being a loser, but also without any winner, you and Jungkook repeated the game on the hottest and most boring nights, each of you needing the other’s presence to make that summer something unforgettable. “no, no! you can’t put a +4 after i told you to take 2! stop being a cheater and accept your defeat. no. put the card back into your deck!”

ROOMMATE!JUNGKOOK who declares himself to you when the storm stole all the light in your house. several candles were scattered around your living room in an attempt to bring some comfort in that darkness. sitting on the couch without having much to do, you and Jungkook watched time pass slowly. a long period of silence danced around the various flames, stealing all your comfort and offering Jungkook a small door for him to finally open up to you. and it was when you went to get water that Jungkook followed you to the kitchen and, very confused and nervous, finally confessed to you. “i don’t know if it’s the candles that are making me nostalgic or if it’s really your company, but i want to tell you something. i like you. a lot. i don’t think i should like you this much but i have no control over my feelings for you.”

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francixoxoxo · 5 months ago

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Banana Pancakes ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜; 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬.

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐯𝐯𝐯𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟!

Warm morning sunshine filtered through the thin chantilly lace curtains of your kitchen, bathing the room with natural light. The house was already filled with the cozy smell of batter cooking and fresh bananas, wafting straight to the bedroom. So it wasn’t any surprise that you heard bare feet padding into the kitchen shortly after you started making breakfast.

It was Billy’s first day off in a while, and you wanted to do something special for him. You knew how much he loved waking up to the smell of your cooking, so you woke up earlier than you would’ve liked, mixing all the ingredients you’d bought yesterday, and making what you were pretty damn sure were the best pancakes this side of the river.

Billy’s strong arms wrapped around your middle suddenly yet languidly, large hands splayed over your belly as he nosed the base of your neck. “Mornin’. Y’smell almost as good as the food, sweet thing.” You smiled fondly to yourself as he pressed a sweet kiss to your exposed skin. His voice was gruff from drowsiness, he was cuddly as ever for the same reason. His chest was bare against your chemise, infinitely warm.

“Mmm, morning.. almost as good?” You jested, relishing in the soft snort he gave.

“Did I say almost? Oh, sorry baby, I meant better than.” You could hear the sarcasm and the smile in his voice as he spoke against your neck. You couldn’t help giggling, flipping the pancakes in the skillet. Something about Billy’s presence just made you feel giddy— not nervous, but elated. Lighter on your feet.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, thumbs drawing lazy circles near your belly button. “Not that I’m complainin’ ’bout pancakes, but.. Why so early?” He gently pulled away from you to go grab a glass of water, not without turning your face with a strong hand on your chin and giving you a proper kiss.

“Well, I was hoping to surprise you.. Didn’t work so good, but s’alright.” You had begun cutting a banana into slices, your the smile lingering long after the kiss. Billy was so affectionate in the mornings, even more than usual if that could be possible.

Billy chuckled lightly, sipping from the glass but placing the rest on the counter for you. “M’ too light of a sleeper?”

You hummed in agreement, earning another snort and grin from your lover. He pecked your cheek with a content sigh, rubbing his dazzling blue eyes as he pulled away. When he opened them, he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror over the counter. With a disapproving huff he moved closer, pushing a hand through his hair.

“Think I need a haircut.” Billy hummed, frowning as if upset with his appearance. He was right. His dark locks were almost past his brows.

“Yeah?” You knew he’d ask you to do it. You always had, he just got peace of mind knowing it was somebody he could trust wielding sharp scissors around his head. Not to mention that if any grooming of his could involve you, it would.

Billy nodded seriously, studying his dark, mussed hair. “You can cut it f’me, can’t you, baby?” His gaze met yours through the mirror, and a soft smile spread over his cheeks. “Breakfast can wait?”

You couldn’t stifle a grin of your own. “Eager, aren’t you?” But you were already making your way to the bathroom, Billy following after you. He shrugged.

“Just wanna get it done, yanno.” He hummed, sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching you rummage through the drawer for scissors and a comb. You weren’t a barber by any means, but you liked to think you’ve gotten quite good at cutting his hair. He always said so, but you knew he’d like it even if it wasn’t any good. If you’ve ever messed him up, he hadn’t noticed (which could’ve just been a testament to his raw handsomeness).

You slotted yourself between Billy’s spread legs, scissors and comb in hand, his large hands finding their home on your hips. He smiled up at you lazily, letting you turn his face with a hand on his chin. “Not too short.” He reminded you gently, making you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t make you look bad, Billy, I’m the one who’s gotta look at you.” You smirked, brushing down his hair with the comb getting to cutting. Billy smiled and laughed lightly, but stayed still for you. The sound of the scissors slicing through the dark strands was strangely satisfying, and the sight of your determined expression in the corner of his eyes had him entranced.

“Mm, don’t I know it..” Billy relished in the way you giggled, taking his chin and turning his face again to cut the hair that laid on his forehead. He hummed pleasantly, leaning his head back into your touch. His hands were warm on your hips, eyes closed blissfully as he relaxed under your skilled touch. It took all of his self-restraint not to pull you down on his lap.

"You're an expert at this, ain't you?" Billy drawled tiredly, a crooked, cheeky grin on his lips. “Makin’ sure I look presentable.”

“Oh, I’m just a natural.” You cooed, pausing to dash some of the cut hair off his bare shoulder. When you glanced up his expression was so tender and relaxed your heart ached.

"That's m’girl." A cocky smirk slipped onto his lips, calloused thumbs tracing small circles over your hips. He cracked one soft blue eye open, admiring the look of concentration on your face. “You’re good at everythin’ you do. N’ you look pretty doin’ it.”

You couldn’t resist a smile, leaning down to press a little peck to his cheek with a gratified hum before resuming trimming his hair. You lifted some of it with the comb, trying to cut it the way you’d seen through barbershop windows. But a strand of silver in the dark locks made you gasp. Billy didn’t dare move, but furrowed his brows. “What?”

“You’re turning gray.” You giggled, stepping to the side and gently pushing his head forward so you could cut the hair at the nape of his neck.

Billy huffed indignantly, the cold metal of the scissors against the skin of his neck soothing. “No way. I ain’t that old.”

“Well, you’re stressin’ yourself silver!” You finished up the haircut, setting down the scissors and comb on the sink and putting your hands on your hip. Billy sat up straight and grinned at you lopsided, his face lit perfectly with the soft morning light filtering through the small bathroom window.

He never thought he’d live to turn gray, but he knew where making such a joke with you would lead. “You’d still cut m’hair when it’s all gray, yeah sweet thing?” He drew you closer with firm, calloused hands on your hips, gently pulling you between his legs again. The way his soft blue eyes were fixed on you could’ve turned you into a puddle. You were already helpless, cooing, “Of course, baby.”

“Would you cut our kids’ hair?” Billy mused, his large hands squeezing you a bit. The beam and giggle that drew out of you filled his heart to the brim.

“I’d love to.” You breathed, twirling a lock of his hair between your fingers fondly. Why couldn’t every morning be this way? Why couldn’t your whole life with Billy be this way?

“And make them banana pancakes, too.” Billy added, pulling you into his lap, your legs across his thighs. You wrapped an arm around his shoulders. You gently brushed some loose hair from his neck and shoulders, humming in agreement.

“Definitely. Every mornin’ll be cozy.” Billy smiled at that, a gentle one that barely parted his lips over his teeth. His fingers traced lazy shapes into your back through your chemise, and you thought you clocked him spelling his name.

Neither of you addressed the idea that Billy might not live long enough to marry you, much less have children. Neither of you admitted your fears. Because you both knew that they were dangerously close to choking the other one and swallowing them whole. So you pressed a kiss filled with all the love you had to give on his cheek, then his lips, and murmured against them, “I love you.”

Billy shook his head a little, furrowing his brows and smiling as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. So obvious that you didn’t even need to breathe the words. That didn’t change how stupidly happy he got hearing you say them. “I love you.”

You’d stay true to your promises. You’d cut your babies’ hair. You’d make them pancakes in the morning. You’d sit on the porch with Billy, years from now, listening to him muse that he needed another haircut. And you’d never grow tired of sitting him down, scissors in hand, and giggling like children while you point out new grays adorning his dark locks. A trophy saying he lived long enough to enjoy this.

Ya’ll i promise ill make smth that isnt straight fluff!!! Lmfao if you have any angsty requests pleasee drop them in

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generalllimaginesss · 10 months ago

Text

Here’s a little piece based on Megan Moroney’s song Reasons to Stay.

Warnings: angsty bf! Jack, toxic relationship (you can usually tell if I’m depressed or not based on what I post lmao), but like this is really really toxic so don’t read if that’s a trigger for you. I think I made myself go crazy while rereading it.

Reasons to Stay

I asked Jesus for a sign

And today I haven’t cried

It’s only 2 p.m. but that beats yesterday

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

The status of having an NHL boyfriend was alluring to a lot of girls. The fame was something that always felt new, thousands of people, strangers, screaming the name that you hold near and dear to your heart. The money eased the fear of bills and gave a freedom the average person would never experience in their lifetime. The influence that you hold as a WAG always playing in the back of your mind anytime your finger hovered over a button to post a picture, wondering if the caption was classy enough to hold your status.

The truth is that looks can be deceiving. The girls that threw themselves at Jack made for a constant state of insecurities to pool in your brain, sloshing around anytime Jack was home late or turned his location off. The money bought things that made you smile, a Louis Vuitton here, a Mercedes there, but the feeling of being in debt to the man that let hate spew from his mouth anytime you accidentally stepped out of line pulled at your being, anxiety grasping at the freedom, one not capable of being present without the other.

Was it really freedom?

Was it the price of freedom?

Maybe.

Maybe the price was the amount of tears that flowed when he rejected an outfit for you to wear.

“You’re not leaving in that. I don’t date sluts and that makes you look like one,” his reasoning rang, slicing through your ears and bouncing around anytime you bought clothes.

Today was a good day, though.

He had kissed you goodbye, asking if you would be making dinner tonight.

He’d be home tonight, you thought, willing yourself to think positive and fighting against the urge to dwell on the fact that he had come home with a hickey the night prior. He insisted it was a hickey, but you weren’t too sure about that.

But he’s yours tonight, that’s all that matters. That keeps you going; the possibility that tomorrow he will be yours is your driving thought. So you went about your day as if the life you were living were a dream and that you were living the life as the girlfriend of a famous hockey player who made millions.

Maybe it’s normal to have to be small. Maybe you just have to compensate for the huge platform that he had. He had earned it after all.

Seriously, what did you do other than keep the house tidy and go to his games? That’s normal….right?

You just had to tell yourself that it would be ok. It would be harder and messier to leave than try to push through.

And when you’re drunk at 3 a.m.

You don’t call your ex-girlfriend

It’s been a couple months since you

Brought up her name.

So I guess that’s a reason to stay.

The guys had gone out after a win, guys only. No girlfriends or wives. That’s what Jack said, at least. They were celebrating the guys achievements, some records broken, and it was just for them.

That was fine with you. He had an amazing game: his second hatty of his career. He needed a night to let off some steam and just be a boy.

The picture of him and Nico with Jack’s ex looming in the background was just a coincidence, yeah? Jack said she was a puck bunny, so she’s probably just going from guy to guy.

As soon as he walked through the door, the smell of bourbon wafted through the air, attaching itself to every air molecule in the apartment and meeting you like a familiar friend. This wasn’t the first time he had come home in this state. It wasn’t even the 5th or 6th.

“You’re up,” Jack’s words were slower than normal, the effort to produce the words coherently proving to be more tasking than normal. He took in the view of you curled up in an Ugg blanket on the plush cushions of the couch, noticing the lines that the tears had been drawing for the past hour. He took note, but not responsibility. He told you where he was and what he was doing, no harm no foul.

“Just couldn’t go to sleep,” Your voice was weakened, something you despised about yourself. You used to view yourself as strong and independent. Sticking up for what was right was was something you took pride in, but being in a relationship with Jack had slowly chipped away at that, so nonchalantly that you were the skeleton of who you once were before you could do anything about it.

Jack’s balance teetered from the left to the right, making a ship at sea during a storm look like a walk through the park. He stumbled as he tried to take his shoes off, a cue that you learned meant you needed to help him.

He did so much for you, so would it really be awful to just help him out?

As you slipped one AirForce off, you took notice of the bruises that feathered his legs, probably from the intense game tonight.

You could feel courage bubble, coming to a boil before you made your next statement, “I noticed your ex in a picture that Nico posted…what’s that about?”

“Baby,” He slurred, attempting to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear but pulling it instead, kissing your forehead after you winced at the tension. “You’re the only one that matters,” And with that he sucked you right back into his intoxicating blue eyes. They held a secret confession of his love for you. One that only you could see and he could feel.

But you don’t try like you used to

You don’t look at me the same

You used to say you’re sorry, now

Whiskey’s what you blame

How much can a heart take

‘Til it’s really your last chance

I’m a giver, but I’ve given all I can

We both know that I ain’t one to walk away

But I’m runnin’ out of reasons to stay

Things hadn’t always been like this.

Jack hadn’t always been like this.

He used to surprise you at work with two dozen roses, or wrote sweet love notes on sticky notes and stuck them to your vanity. He used to put in effort.

He used to want you.

What were you thinking, of course he still wanted you. He wouldn’t be in a relationship with you for the whole world to see if he didn’t want you, right?

He hadn’t bought flowers in a long time, though, and the sticky notes had slowly made their way to a drawer for safekeeping, none there to replace them. The vanity was bare, loneliness radiating from it every time you passed it, the feeling resonating in your soul.

It was as lonely as you.

Jack had come home drunk again last night, the smell of the liquor laced the words he shot at you with a poison that made them burn when they hit you. Everything that came out of his mouth felt like lashes against your skin.

“You’re so fucking boring, Y/N! You think you’re so perfect and you’re not! You think you’re better than everybody around you, but you’re not! You’re a fucking bitch, you cunt!”

He went on like that for at least an hour, going on and on about how he deserved better, how he could have anybody he wanted but settled for you.

It hurt even worse because it was so untrue. You battled with yourself for years because you compared yourself to those around you constantly. Jack knew this. He had been there for your breakdowns when your family had made you feel like a disappointment, or when you never thought you would be as pretty or talented as the other girls in the hockey scene.

Did he just forget this?

How were you going to smooth this over with him?

It felt like all you did was make excuses for him just to be able to live with him.

Why?

How did he completely change you? Wreck you? He had gutted out who you once were and left the bare beams that held you up. He had conditioned you to allow him chance after chance, no matter how bad he had fucked up.

And you just let him.

As the sun played a game of peekaboo through the curtains, you had made up your mind that you couldn’t justify the way he was treating you anymore. It was wrong.

The smell of bacon and eggs lured you into the kitchen to see him shirtless, standing over the stove as he busied himself with making breakfast. His back muscles flexed as he maneuvered about the stove. He looked perfect, as if he hadn’t verbally assaulted you and your character last night.

Before you could say anything, he had sensed that he was being watched, catching a glimpse of you as he turned his head slightly to the left.

“Morning. Didn’t wake you up, did I?” His voice was raspy, probably from partying for most of the night, but it sounded like he cared. It was refreshing.

“N-no. Um, I just felt like I should get up,” Reassuring him felt like an attempt to just keep the peace. Don’t say anything to set him off, don’t be combative. He’s cooking breakfast for you, so everything’s ok.

“Good. Hey, about last night…I’ll be honest I don’t remember what I said, but if it was bad it was just from me drinking too much. The boys may have gotten me to drink more than I normally do…” he trailed off as he plated the breakfast he had made for you, placing it on a placemat at the bar and pouring a cup of coffee for you, 3 creams and 2 sugars.

He remembered.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You walked to the bar taking a seat.

The morning consisted of the two of you genuinely enjoying the presence of the other, catching up on what’s going on in each other’s lives and promising to not let it get this way anymore.

Before Jack left for practice, he had placed a kiss to your lips ever so gently, “I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft and sweet.

How was this the same Jack from last night?

You were sure that you had to be going crazy.

If I go find somebody new

I’d lose your mom and sister too

You know me and how much I hate change

So I guess that’s a reason to stay

And I ain’t perfect either, we all make mistakes

But that don’t change

The Michigan sunset was absolutely breathtaking. The orange and purple hues painting a picture so perfect that it could never be replicated on a canvas. The distant sounds of the guys on the lake could be heard in the distance, the chill of the wind carrying the hoots and hollers from the water to you and Ellen, sitting on the deck attached to the back of the house.

The smell of the deck and the sound of the hundreds of frogs from the water felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from.

“Jack would probably kill me if he heard me say this, but I really hope you two get married soon. I’d love to have you as my daughter, you know? These boys are a lot sometimes…” Ellen chuckled as she nodded to the boys in the distance.

The comment caught you off guard, a response in favor felt forced, but how were you supposed to tell her that her son was making your life a living hell?

“You’d have to take that up with him,” You smiled at her, not revealing the relationship that was slowly eating away at you.

“I promised to never pressure them to do something that they weren’t ready for, so I’ll let him choose the right time. I just know we all love you. Anytime the other two call home they always ask how you’re doing. I know they talk to Jack about you, too. We didn’t think he’d ever be ready to settle down with a girlfriend, much less one as amazing as you,” She went on, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the absence of the sun left goosebumps on her skin.

“It’s getting cold out here, let’s head inside and you can help me make dinner. I believe we have some wine if you’d like some,” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, waiting for you to follow suite, you smiled.

It was almost a sad smile, grateful that even though Jack wasn’t the man he should’ve been for you, his family loved you. They made you feel safe and loved. They were a safe haven from the toxic tendencies that Jack had taken up when the two of you were in New Jersey.

“I’d love that, Ellen.”

The sound of bare feet padding rapidly against the blades of grass that ran from the dock to the deck made you and Ellen turn your heads towards the window, watching on as Quinn, Luke, and Jack were racing towards the house.

Luke won, his long legs giving him an unfair advantage against his shorter counterparts. Quinn came in second as Jack has tripped over himself.

“What’s for dinner?” Luke panted, reaching for a water bottle out of the fridge and attempting to sit on the couch.

“You’ll find out after you change out of your wet swim trunks,” Ellen gave him a stern look, him raising his arms in defense as he left to go to his room for dry clothes.

You felt an arm snake around your waist, the smell of lake water and sunscreen following behind it. At first you jumped, worried that you had done something wrong.

He chuckled at the sudden movement, not realizing that he was the problem.

“Jumpy, are we?”

You smiled, trying to not cause an issue with him.

“Sorry. Wasn’t expecting you to be so cold,” You felt nasty as you lied through your teeth.

After a few minutes, he finally decided to retreat to the shower to wash the day off of him. You took in your surroundings while he was away.

Quinn and Luke played the Xbox while Ellen prepared the vegetables for dinner and Jim smoked the meat outside. You had been loving this family for years now. You and Ellen had become so close, easily somebody you loved as if she were your own mother.

Jack wouldn’t be the only person that you would have to let go of if you were to leave. As much as you loved his family, it was only natural for them to take his side, something that you understood and admired. You could only wish somebody would take up for you no matter what, and he had 4 people willing to do that for him.

You couldn’t imagine the thought of having to start over with somebody new, having to meet their parents for the first time and being disappointed that they weren’t Ellen and Jim. Being disappointed that their siblings wouldn’t pay the extra money when they accidentally forgot to keep your Snapchat streak going since it was almost 4 years long. Quinn and Luke texted you almost as often as they texted Jack. You were like their sister.

The thought of starting over was enough to have tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. Whatever Jack had done, you couldn’t expect him to be perfect. He’s human, after all. You’d stay if it meant you could keep the Hughes in your life.

I'm runnin' out of patience

Damn, I hate to say it

I'm runnin' out of patience and grace and at the end of the day

Findin' last resort reasons we're okay

Ain't a good reason to stay

“Jack you have purple bruises all on your fucking neck! How stupid do you think I am?!” You barked at him as he sat on the couch facing you.

“Stupid enough to think this is the first time this has happened,” His smug smirk and body language made you want to hurt him. You wanted to hurt him as bad as he’s hurt you for so long now.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you, Jack Hughes. You are the most disgusting person I have ever met and I hope your life becomes a living hell that you can never get out of,” The words came out calmly despite their harsh meaning. It was eerie, making the hairs on Jack’s neck stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going,” He watched as you made your way to the shared bedroom, hearing the sound of a suitcase zipper open.

He jumped up, heading straight for you, but froze as he watched you throw clothes into the suitcase. When that one became full you found another one to shove your clothes into, until the only things left were things you didn’t normally wear.

“What are you doing?” He spat, realizing that the grip he had on you was being relinquished.

“What does it fucking look like? I’m done. I’ve gone crazy trying to love you and I want out. I can’t do this anymore!” You tried to yell, but your throat constricted as it tried its best to sob. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you like that, though. He had put you in this state of survival long enough.

“You’re going to regret this…” He trailed off, following you as you threw everything into your car.

“Maybe so, Jack. But I will never regret it as much as I regret falling in love with you. You are an awful person, and I hope everybody will see that one day,” You slammed the door shut and put the car in reverse.

As you made your way down the driveway and street, Jack’s figure became smaller and smaller. Nobody would ever make you feel this way ever again, and you felt sorry for whoever fell into the trap that is Jack Hughes after you.

HAHA IM SO SORRY!! Also this in no way reflects who Jack is in real life because I, obviously, don’t know him personally. This was so bad though, so I’m actually really sorry.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #jack hughes imagines #nico hischier #jh86 #toxic relationship #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #megan moroney

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ssoulphrase · 3 months ago

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00. The Curiosity of Haku Shota

Pairing: alien!soul x fem!reader

Genre: Slice of life, fluff

Warnings: mentions of bugs (´-`)

Word Count: 2,159

👾 - I decided to write a small piece as a filler for the actual fic I'm writing with this concept. I realized it was gonna take me longer than I wanted, so l'm writing this to get me motivated T^T I wanted my debut to be the longer fic but oh well :) This can be read as a stand alone as it doesn't add much to the main plot :) The main fic wil be linked once it's finished!

Sorry in advance if there's any mistakes,l wrote this kinda fast ( ´～｀)

⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚

💿 - Aya Hirano, Super Driver !!

“Y/n! Come on! Wake up! Don’t waste your summer lying around all day! I wanna do stuff!!”

Ugh…

It’s been a couple of months since Soul crashed into your apartment, him first arriving at the time when you were still in classes. He’s become accustomed to your way of life quickly, seamlessly blending into what is human society. However, it's now summer, and he’s been begging every day to do something new, saying that it’s all for his ‘research.’ You laid on your carpeted floor, limbs sprawled out in a starfish shape as the cheap fan you bought at a market once was blasting at full speed, squeaking as it does its turns.

“What is it that you want to do Soul…?” The grogginess in your voice made it evident that you had no intention of getting up at any moment. However, Soul continued on, ignoring your groggy state.

“I want to go on a bike ride! Oh! And have a picnic! And draw with chalk! And maybe go star gazing at night!”

“That’s quite the list you’ve got there…” Although these were pretty mundane things to you, you couldn’t help but entertain Soul and his shenanigans, his excitement lifting a small smile upon your lips.

“I know! I thought about it all last night! It's stuff I've heard humans do during their free time.” A proud grin made itself onto his lips.

“Okay,” you chuckled fondly, “come help me make some sandwiches then.” It was just like Soul to drag you out of your apartment to do something. Just yesterday, the two of you had gone bug catching, Soul having the brilliant idea to make it a contest to see who could catch the most. It was no surprise to see that he had caught more than you by the end of it, boasting about having done his research on the most efficient way humans catch bugs. Of course, you didn’t let him keep any of the bugs he caught as you didn’t want any crawling around in your apartment. He dejectedly let the bugs go, seeing them fly out into the horizon. You couldn’t lie though, the scenery was beautiful (minus the flapping of the bugs…), the sun was starting to set just beyond the horizon and if it wasn’t for Soul, you would have spent this summer alone in your apartment.

“You, know they might return the favor one day, since you were so kind to let them go.” You glanced to your side, Soul was staring at the sunset in awe as all the little bugs he caught flew away.

“Return the favor?” He ripped his eyes from the sight in front of him to look at you in confusion. You couldn’t help but admire how ethereal he looked under the sun’s rays, his sun kissed skin and deep brown eyes reflected the sun’s true colors as the bit of breeze that picked up swept his hair, his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

“C’mon,” you chuckled, “Let’s go back home.”

Cut back to now, you lazily got up off your carpeted floor, already missing the fan’s cool breeze against your face

“What type of sandwiches are we making??” Soul excitedly followed behind you as you slowly made your way into your cramped kitchen.

“I guess whatever we find in the fridge…” Luckily, you did have the correct ingredients to make sandwiches, having bought the stuff a couple of weeks ago. You spent the next thirty minutes teaching Soul how to make a simple ham and cheese sandwich, not because of his lack of experience but because of your lack of ingredients (which he didn’t seem to mind), his excitement over making sandwiches made the chore a bit more bearable.

⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

“C’mon! Hurry up! I wanna get to the park already!”

“I’m coming…” Soul had already reached the end of the steps, waiting beside your baby blue bike that you had gotten for your birthday. He had already placed the basket of food onto the bike’s built in basket, hands on his hips as he waited for you to ascend the stairs.

“You know, we’re gonna have to pass by the store to get the chalk you wanted, cuz I certainly don’t have any…” You finally reached the end of the stairs, Soul’s frown turning into a smile.

“I’ve got that settled already!”

There’s that proud smile again…

“What? How?”

“Your neighbor! I had mentioned it a while ago to her while you were out shopping, and she let me borrow some as long as we bring them back!” Soul boasted, you could only let out a sigh in response.

“So you had this all planned, huh? C’mon, get on the back of the bike.” Soul eagerly made his way on the back of your bike, holding onto your waist for security. The bike ride to the park was surprisingly peaceful. You half expected Soul to ask you about every little thing he saw on the way. Instead, he sat quietly behind you, squeezing you once in a while to hold on when the tighter turns came.

Soul honestly just liked being in your presence. He knew that asking you many questions tired you out, having once realizing that when your tone of voice turned into something less friendly by what seemed like his 500th question that day. Soul once again hugged you tighter, feeling only grateful for all you’ve done for him since he got there, a feeling he doesn’t experience often. Sure, he’s always experienced excitement ever since he arrived on Earth, especially when you comply to his wishes, however, sometimes he feels this inexplicable feeling in his chest whenever he’s close to you, almost as if he’s out of breath. He wonders if you’ve ever felt that before.

He might have to do some research on that later.

“Soul, we’re here.” Your voice broke through his thoughts as he eagerly jumped off your bike as you went to park it. While he was running off to who knows where, you looked for a good place under the shade to set the quilted picnic blanket you brought.

“Y/n! Come! What’s that vehicle over there???” You looked to what seemed to be an ice cream truck, you knew what he was going to ask once you told him, however, a good ice cream cone would be wonderful in this hot weather.

“It’s a truck that sells ice cream. You want some?” You weren’t surprised when he eagerly nodded his head yes, running over to stand behind all the other children who were begging their parents to get them ice cream.

“Do you know what flavor you want?” Once you caught up to him, you looked over the poster plastered onto the side of the truck, skimming through all the flavors they had.

“I’ll try what you have, I’m not particularly interested in any one of them. If I could, I'd try them all…”

Of course you would…

“Hmm, should we try the strawberry then?”

“Sure!”

The two of you had what seemed to be a feast for the both of you as you gobbled up every piece of food you had brought plus the ice cream, Soul seeming to be the one enjoying it the most. After the meal however, Soul ran off to chase some bugs again while you stayed seated in your spot on the blanket under the shade, having had enough of the ‘creepy crawlies’ since your small excursion the day before. Without noticing, an affectionate gaze landed upon your features as you looked over Soul who was carefully examining the grass beneath the (already) dirty sneakers you let him borrow. You couldn’t help but build a sense of endearment towards the alien that appeared in your apartment unannounced. It was only natural, right? You had spent several months together by now, Soul accompanying you through almost everything. You’d feel a little strange if he wasn’t there by your side bugging you about every ‘cool’ thing he saw. You wondered how you’d feel once his research period was over and he’d have to go back home.

“Y/n!”

There he goes calling my name again…

“Yes Soul?”

“Let’s go draw with the chalk!” He was already running off again, expecting you to be able to catch up to his speed. He led you towards the pavement pathway where previous chalk drawings were, some already being washed out due to age.

“What are you planning to draw?” Soul handed you a few chalk pieces before going a few squares away from you.

“It’s a secret!” You playfully rolled your eyes at his childlike nature, his nose scrunched as he turned away to scribble. You drifted your sight to the empty pavement square beneath you, sighing.

Guess I’ve gotta draw something…

Your artistic skills weren’t the best per se, but you couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the cute but childlike drawing made out of the pastel chalk colors Soul had handed you. You were so engaged in your drawing, however, that you didn’t see or hear Soul walking behind you.

“That’s your drawing?” Soul’s soft but snarky voice came from behind you, eliciting another eye roll from you.

“Oh, come on! Show me yours then!” You stomped your way to his square on the pavement, a series of squiggles and lines as well as intricate shapes were drawn with the chalk.

“Uh, what’s that?”

“It’s the writing system we use in space! I was hoping that if I write it big enough, my friends and family up there will be able to see it!” He wore that proud grin once more, showing off his penmanship in his language.

“Oh! What does it say then?” You stepped closer to examine his work, intrigued by the intricate work that went into the writing.

“Um, just letting them know that I’m doing okay,” his right hand went to rub his chin in thought, “I wonder if I wrote it big enough though…”

“I’m sure they’ll see it,” you reassured him, “They’ll be happy to hear that you’re doing well.” You tried giving him a reassuring smile to ease the worry that was present on his face, his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought.

“You really think so? Okay then!” In the blink of an eye, his worrisome expression changed to his usual carefree smile that he carries.

That was fast…

“Y/n! Let’s go draw something together over there!” And once again, Soul was dragging you to another place to draw. You spent the rest of the afternoon drawing on the pavement with Soul, him claiming that this has to be the ‘best drawing to ever exist,’ meaning that he wanted to put in the extra time to perfect it as much as possible. What he wanted to execute though, was a ‘family portrait’ of you and him so that his family and friends in space would be able to see what he was up to. And as always, you obliged to his demands, putting in the extra elbow grease to draw it as he imagined it. As a finishing touch, Soul added the orange, tabby cat that hung out on your balcony at random times, Soul claiming that they’re best friends.

“Perfect! We’re done!” Soul looked over the drawing with pride, the sun had already set and the stars were starting to twinkle brightly.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Oh definitely!” he nodded eagerly “And we finished just in time to go stargazing!” Before you could say anything, Soul grabbed your hand to lead you to the picnic blanket under the tree, this time, a bit more calmer.

“Why’d you wanna stargaze anyway? I thought you lived amongst the stars based on what you’ve told me.” You sat down one last time on the blanket right next to him, Soul immediately laying his head right on your lap, your hand came up to rest on his multicolored hair.

“I wanted to see the stars with you.” The phrase touched you more than you thought it would, the meaning behind his words bringing a certain heavy feeling on your chest almost bringing you to tears.

“I promise I’ll keep in touch with you once my research period on Earth is over. You better keep in touch too!” You couldn’t see it, however you could almost sense that carefree grin he always carries forming on his face.

“Okay, I promise I’ll keep in touch too.”

I wouldn’t want to forget you…

👾 - bleep blorp zeep zorp

#p1harmony #haku shota #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony imagines #soul x reader #p1harmony soul #p1harmony fluff #p1h soul #p1harmony fanfic #kpop writers #kpop fanfic #fic writer

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strbymacaroon · 10 months ago

Text

Silent Love: Ch. 4 - Project Week

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Four

Previous Chapter: Fake Dinner Date W/Feels

Chapter One: New Roommate(s)

Master-List: Here!

.・゜゜・｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 26,621 ... (Sorry for how long it is..)

･｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 20th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Monday

(Day 1)

You weren’t necessarily dreading this moment, but you aren’t looking forward to it. After the dinner with Sukuna–if you can call it that–the two of you haven’t really interacted. Which is the exact opposite of what you thought was going to happen. You thought you two were going to get along just fine, but no, things are just back to being silent between you two.

Now, you have to follow him around like a lost puppy.

You grab the small notebook you specifically bought for this occasion yesterday, and push yourself off bed. A part of you feels a bit underprepared–despite staying up all night setting your notebook up for this week–should you be explaining what you’re going to be doing to Sukuna? Or, should you just wing it and see what happens.

Still, you’re quick you change into something cute. A mini-skirt, black sheer tights, and some leg warmers. Along with a black off the shoulder long-sleeve, and the necklace from dinner. You are quick to grab a nice jacket from your closet, before leaving the room.

The first thing you write in your journal is the time, ‘10:05AM,’ right under the morning slot. You're unsure when Sukuna wakes up, or eats for breakfast, or when he leaves the house.

Yuuji loudly yawns behind you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. “How’d the date go?”

You lean into his shoulder, “Don’t tell Sukuna, but your grandpa totally didn’t believe us.” The two of you walk into the kitchen, “But, he did say he wants to see me again, so that can be a good thing.”

Yuuji nods, leaning his head on your shoulder, “I agree, maybe I’ll bring you over to spend Christmas with us.” He pulls away from you, opening the refrigerator, “Sounds like Pops might enjoy that, maybe Sukuna will, too.” He whispers.

You roll your eyes at that, “Right.” You poke Yuuji’s back, smiling as you say, “Are you sure you’re not asking me to be your fake girlfriend for Christmas?” You loudly gasp, “Oh my god! What if this is how I bring your family closer together?!”

Yuuji laughs at that, wrinkling his nose while sticking out his tongue, “Gross, community girlfriend is not something I think I’d want to share with the family.” He grabs some milk, “Actually, what is Sukuna doing for you? I don’t think you ever told me?”

You lean back on a counter, pressing your lips together. “Remember how we were talking about how Nobara and I have a project?” Yuuji nods, “Well, I asked him to be the person I study.”

“And he agreed?!”

You laugh at that, “Babe, he had to.” Still, you’re dreading doing it. It would’ve been nice if Sukuna at least acknowledged you yesterday, then again, the two of you practically spent the whole day together on Saturday, so you can’t really complain.

Ugh, emotions are so weird, why can’t you be normal?

“Don’t the two of you have school?” Sukuna comments, walking into the kitchen. He makes his way to the cupboards and grabs a water bottle. You also notice he grabs pre-work out, throwing some scoops into his cup.

You write what brand and amount he uses. Suddenly, this project makes you feel really weird, like a stalker. You move to his side, “So, as I explained earlier, I just need to follow you around. And–”

“Practice starts at four at the football stadium.” Sukuna cuts you off, “Get there, watch me practice, and I’ll answer whatever questions you have for me on the way back home.” Just like that, he’s gone. Back in his room to leave you and Yuuji in silence.

You click your pen closed, leaning on the counter while sighing. Yuuji follows your motions, minus the pen. You laugh at yourself, turning your face to look at him, “I don’t think I’m going to pass this assignment.”

—-

Nobara is quick to agree with you, “Oh, no yeah, babe, you’re not passing. There’s no way you’re passing.” She took a bite of her sandwich, “I asked Maki what her project looks like, to see if mine was right, and…” She sighs, shaking her head, “Needless to say, I’m restarting mine. I need way more information than I thought for the writing section.”

You place your head down on the table, “I’m at such a disadvantage. I don’t know anyone, and the one person I have is literally the worst option ever.” You perk your head up to look at her with your body still slumped over the table, “I literally have club meetings every Mondays and Wednesdays, too. The odds are against me.”

“Wait, how did you get Sukuna to agree? The dude gives off major serial killer vibes. Maybe even a bit of bi-polarness.” Nobara asks, pushing your hair from your face. “Don’t tell me you seduced him, you minx.” She teases.

You laugh a bit at that, shaking your head, “Getting dicked down by that man would be a blessing from god, alone.”

Nobara wiggles her eyebrows, “Oh-ho-ho, don’t tell me you got a thing for the hottie.” She leans closer to you.

You scoff, “As if. Babe, me and you both know I don’t have to like the person I’m fucking.” You tell her, reaching your hand over the table and stealing a chip from her. “And with Sukuna, might as well call it hate-fucking.”

Nobara looks away while biting her food, whispering, “As if you’re fucking people.”

“Nobara.”

“Don’t get mad at me for speaking the truth, babe.” Nobara points an accusing finger at you, “If you want, I can always give you some tips on how to suck dick like a pro.” She seems a bit cocky when saying that, taking another bite of her food.

You roll your eyes, but still tell her, “Text me about it.” You pause for a second, “Don’t tell Sukuna that though, we totally hate each other right now.” You push yourself up, stretching a bit, “It’s really weird.”

Nobara blinks, “Sounds like the start of a porno. Two hot teens hate each other.” She smiles, wiggling her shoulder, “Sounds like you may get your wish.”

You cringe at that, “Teens? Gross. Okay, but no, here’s the thing. It sounds like something I want to do, and I want to do it, but when I think about it for too long, I don’t want to.” You’re a bit desperate when you say, “I mean, you get it, right?”

Nobara nods with conviction, “No, yeah. I totally get it. Is he cocky about it?” She asks seriously, as if the discussion at hand were about a math equation, “Like, does he know you wanna fuck him? And he lets you know, he knows, you want to fuck him.”

Your eyes widen as you point at her, “Yes! That’s it.” Your hands flex a bit, and you're imagining Sukuna’s throat there. “It's so infuriating, I just want to die when I see his stupid asshole smirk when he knows I think he’s hot. But, I hate him so much.”

Nobara nods, listening to you, really listening to you. She gets it, man.

“Hates a strong word, but still. He’s just self conceited, which is kinda’ hot, but in a toxic–your parents scolding you not to date this guy in highschool, way.” You rub the temple of your nose, “Ugh, I feel stupid. This guys makes me feel so ‘effin stupid.”

Nobara smiles, “Sounds like you have a crush.”

“Ugh, on that asshole? Hell no.” You look to the side, biting the side of your lip, “But, I do like him… a tiny bit. Asshole and all. He’s got a heart, somewhere…” Maybe talking to Sukana’s grandpa influenced your feelings about him, who knew the perfect wingman would be your grandpa.

“What are you guys talking about?” Yuuji asks, sitting next to you.

Nobara is quick to say, “Your asshole brother.” She’s smiling when adding, “And how hot she thinks he is.”

“You mean, how much of an asshole I think he is.” You correct, looking at Yuuji with an eye roll, “Don’t listen to Nobara, she’s just a backstabber. Nothing but a New York rat.”

“This is weird, let’s stop talking about it.” Yuuji says, looking at the food he just bought, some Chick-fil-A. “I don’t like talking about my brother, he’s so–”

“Hot?” Nobara interrupts with a cheeky smile, clearing messing with Yuuji. “We know, babe, we know. But, you can admit that, right? That your brother is totally hot as shit?” She’s practically drinking up his uncomfortable expression.

“Okay, I’m done with this conversation. You two can eat alone.” Yuuji says, moving away from the table.

You look at him, a pleading look in your eyes as you extend your hands and shout, “Wait, no Yuuji!”

Yuuji’s quick to turn around at your voice, placing a touched hand over his head, your name slips his lips like a prayer. “Yes, tell me, tell me. What is wrong?”

You pause there for a moment, pressing your lips together, your point at the Chick-fil-A, “Can you give me a fry?” He continues to walk away, you laugh at this and shout, “I’m sorry, Yuuji, I’m joking, I swear!”

But Yuuji still walks away.

You and Nobara laugh, finishing up your meals and dispersing the plaza. “Got anything to do today?” Nobara asks, looking at the time on her phone.

“Club, then I got to go watch Sukuna practice.” You sigh, hugging your torso. “He gave me the decency to watch him practice, then he’s going to answer all my questions on the drive home.” You roll your eyes, “Which, I’m guessing, can work, but if you have to be as detailed as your telling me, I don’t think it is.”

Nobara slings an arm over your shoulder, “I’m sure you’re going to figure it out, babe, I wouldn’t worry too much.” She finally pulls away, “You go have fun doing that, I’ll see you soon.”

You pass her a weak smile, “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

—

Who would’ve thought, sitting on the hot turf, the wind tangling your hair, watching men you don’t know, wouldn’t be fun. You haven’t even seen Sukuna yet, a part of you wonders if he’s even here, but you don’t have the heart to actually go looking for him.

Still, you can’t help but watch everyone. Football’s never been your forte, you’ve never been a sports person, hence why you did colorguard back in high school, but you still enjoyed the football games you had to attend with the band. It was never boring, and your high school had a good football team which you liked watching. So, you weren’t completely oblivious to the sport.

Even now, watching the football boys play, you’re not terribly bored. Maybe, you’re bored, but you’re not dying from it. Still, you can’t help but feel a bit self conscious under these men’s gazes, when they try to discreetly point at you, or whisper to their friend something in your direction.

They could be talking about something as completely mundan as the weather, but you’re in a different environment, and feel incredibly out of place. So, in a way, every little thing has to be about you right now. It may be a bit self centering, but hey, mental insecurity can do that to you.

“Brat.” Sukuna calls behind you, dropping his bag at your side. “Hold onto this, I’m leaving after practice is over.” He doesn’t want to stay to hear the questions about who you are, or anything else his teammates have to ask, he doesn’t have the fucking energy right now.

You go to ask him a question, but the sentence never gets asked. You pause the moment your eyes land on him. Okay… fine, football guys are pretty hot. The helmet over his head, you can see a peak of eye black, and his practice uniform fits him so well. Especially around his arms.

They look so nice and big…

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, a cocky smile pulling at his lips. “You done starin’, doll?” He passes you a hair tie, to which you immediately pull your hair into a low ponytail.

You narrow your eyes at him, shaming your head, “Wasn’t staring.” You look at the field, “I thought you were on the field an hour ago? Where were you before this?” You can feel how tangled your hair is, it feels really gross.

Sukuna would ask, why do you want to know, but the moment he sees you pull out a journal titled ‘Project,’ from your bag, he has his answers. “Working out. Warming up,” He waves it off, “Whatever the fuck you want to call it, I do it for an hour before actual practice.”

You want to ask more about that; What did you focus on? Did you have more protein shakes? What about pre-pump? Did you eat something healthy before? Have you eaten today? What time did you leave the house? What are your classes? What’s your schedule? But, Sukuna’s already on the field before you can start to ask one of them.

You sigh, just writing vaguely under the afternoon bracket, ‘Workout, and practice.’ Which makes your stomach turn, it’s already half an hour past five, and you only have three things written down. Six including the time bracks you made the night before.

You want to die. This is going to be the longest week ever.

You’re quick to sling Sukuna’s bag over your shoulder when you notice the team huddling together, but you don’t stay to watch them disperse. You’re walking to the exit of the stadium, if you remember correctly, you saw Sukuna’s car this way when entering.

“You were quick to leave.” Sukuna says a good distance behind you, “Reach into the pocket of my bag, my keys are there.” You do as he says, unlock the car for the both of you. Even when you’re both situated in his car, he’s still asking demands of you, “Ask me what you need to know.”

You decide to break the day into hours, writing the respective time under the right evening bracket. “Okay, uhm, what did you eat for breakfast? If you also know the calorie amount, that would be nice.” You’re facing him, your notebook in your lap.

Sukuna doesn’t respond just yet, he just removes his helmet and fixes his hair. Messy and sweaty, yet oddly attractive. You’re about to repeat your question, when he shoves the helmet on your head. You flinch, feeling his sweat cumulate in your hair. You wrinkle your nose, “Gross…”

Sukuna finally turns on the car, “Open my phone, I have an app where I keep track of what I eat.” He thinks for a bit, “I also have a workout app that can help you.” When you grab his phone, he tells you, “The passcode is…” Sukuna pauses.

You blink, phone in hand, you can’t help but notice how heavy it is. “Yeah?”

Sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off the road when saying, “It’s zero three, twenty, zero four.”

“Is it your girlfriend’s birthday?” You tease. Sukuna’s phone unlocks, and you try looking for these apps, and when you do, you write the little information it gives you.

“It’s Yuuji’s.”

You thought the two of them didn’t get along, but he has Yuuji’s birthday as his password. Hm. “That’s sweet.” You blink at the time bracket for twelve, “Says you didn’t eat anything at twelve, did you not have lunch?”

“No, I did.” Sukuna shrugs, “Looks like I forgot to fill it out.”

You softly groan at that, “Well, what did you eat?”

“I don’t fuckin’ remember.”

You slap the notebook against your forehead, or… what would be your forehead if his helmet wasn’t in the way. “Oh my god.” You pull the notebook down, “This isn’t going to work. I don’t even know your schedule, and I’m supposed to be taking pictures of you, too.”

Gojo is known for his strict grading. The way he’s able to pick up on small details within your work is uncanny. Once, he gave a student a zero on their assignment due to one sentence being written with AI. His eyes see all, there’s no cheating in his class. Sometimes you’re dying over turning in some of your work, knowing that you copied an idea from Nobara. Even if you’ve reworded it five times in your head, and two times on paper.

Gojo is just… that good. Unfortunately.

That’s why he is the best professor on campus.

“Just let me follow you around.” You lean back in your chair, notebook in your lap. “I mean, that’s literally what we agreed to. Now, you want to start changing things up?” You look outside, forehead against the window.

“This is easier.” Sukuna says, opening the garage with a remote attached to his vanity mirror. “For both of us.”

You gawk at this, “Sukuna, this project isn’t supposed to be easy. For any of us. I’m supposed to be working hard, it literally says in the packet.” You rub your eyes stressed, “Not even that, but you’re not making this easy for me. This is easy for you.”

Once he parks the car, you’re quick to exist, removing the helmet and tossing it in his car. “Can you at least let me do this correctly? I need to be following you around to at least get a good grade.” You watch as Sukuna locks his face, walking to the door. “I won’t even record you, I’ll just take pictures.”

“I didn't know you needed to record me.” Sukuna says, a bit weirdly, too.

You shrug, “I didn’t either until I checked the packet again.” The equivalent to a college grade-drop jump scare. “To be honest, I think it’s Gojo being really weird and wanting to be nosey about our lives.”

“Gojo?” He says with a scowl, “Fuckin’ hated his class, and him too. The cocky, white-haired ass can go die.”

You smile a bit, “You’re really creative with your nicknames, you know?” You follow after him. “You hate Gojo?”

Sukuna’s answer is quick, “Yeah.”

Once the two of you enter the house, Sukuna tells you, “Okay, fine. I’ll take pictures of myself throughout the day, and remember to write everything.” He rolls his eyes at you, “Does that make your prissy-ass happy?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Not really.” Sukuna passes you a quick glance. He can’t help but notice you’re smiling, a bit too giddy for his liking. “But, you can’t escape me when we’re home.”

Sukuna turns away from you, “Stop doing that shit, it’s creepy.”

･｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 21th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Tuesday

(Day 2)

Tuesday is much like Monday, boring and anxiety inducing. As the time passes, and your notebook stays untouched, you feel uneasy. You’re supposed to have so much more information than this. Although, you did manage to write more information yesterday, which gives you a small sense of security.

You have your shoes tucked under your bag, while your feet are playing in the warm turf. You’re wearing sheer tights again, but took off your socks to really soak in the heat the turf absorbs. You can even see your white painted toenails wiggling in the fake grass. Who knew it would be this relaxing?

Sukuna passes you his keys and phone, this time sitting down next to you on the field. You blink at him, tucking your phone into your pocket. “Are we not leaving straight after?”

Sukuna leans back on the palms of his hands, “Can’t, left some shit in my locker.” He rolls his eyes at this, “Might as well just change here.”

You smile at that, unlocking his phone and opening the apps from yesterday. “At least you won’t feel sweaty.” You start writing the information down, but aren’t completely satisfied. “I appreciate you putting in more information, but…” You flip the phone to him, “Meal from Waba Grill isn’t specific enough. How can you even track your calories like this?”

“Aren’t they all the same?” Sukuna says, letting his head fall back.

“Definitely not.” You focus your eyes on his body, “You know, for a student athlete, you’re really bad at keeping track of your health. Like? Isn’t that your job?” You giggle a bit, exiting the app, “Did you at least take pictures?”

“Yeah.” Sukuna perks up at this, although he’s giving you a cocky smirk. “Take a look.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” You open his photos app, squinting your eyes at the screen with caution. “I swear, if I find any of your sex tapes I’m actually going to kill myself.”

“Ha. Stop fuckin’ around.” Sukuna sarcastically quips at you, “I’m not like that.” You give him a look. Sukuna shakes his head at you, “Not anymore.” He’s still looking at you, almost as if he wants to see your reaction to the photos he took.

That’s cute.

You open Sukuna’s recently taken, and immediately pause.

No, not cute.

You look at Sukuna, then his pictures, then back to Sukuna again, “Babe, you know damn well…” You begin, licking your teeth with annoyance.

“Like it when you call me that.” Sukuna leans over, tilting his head to look at the screen. “What? You don’t like them? Took them thinking of you, doll.” All the pictures are of Sukuna at the gym. That’s the best way to describe them too, gym selfies. Except, all of them are insanely clad, with him either lifting his shirt with his mouth, or completely shirtless altogether.

You give him an annoyed look, “I can’t use any of these.” You throw his phone at his chest, rolling your eyes, “The only people who would like these are the loney-ass girls on Tik Tok imagining any hot guy as their boyfriend.”

“Oddly specific.”

“For you.” You flip back, laying down on the turf, “When I meant pictures, I mean of you eating your food, or working out. Not you being a thirst trap.” You laugh, looking at Sukuna while he gives you his gaze, “Unless, you think Gojo might like that.”

“Weird blue-eyed freak.”

Someone calls, “Sukuna. Get on the field.” Sukuna’s quick to get up, not bothering to wish you a goodbye before he’s practicing.

You shake your head, writing down all that you can. Not before discreetly going through his pictures again, the idea that he took them specifically for you swirling in your head. You can’t help but feel your face burn, while butterflies swarm your stomach.

—-

You slip on your shoes, tapping them on the ground to make sure they’re secured to your feet. You’re quick to call Sukuna while he’s entering the stadium, presumably to the locker room. “I’m going to wait in your car.” He just passes you an acknowledging glance, one that makes you turn to the exit of the field.

Someone is quick to sling an arm over Sukuna’s shoulder, which is immediately met with Sukuna pushing him off him. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Awh! Don’t be like that, I’m just trying to be friendly.” A blue haired man cooed at Sukuna, following closely behind him.

“He’s just trying to get answers.” A bored voice says, an obnoxious yawn following it. “He’s just interested in the girl who’s watching us.” He gives Sukuna a lazy smirk, clearly amused by Mahito’s antics.

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at this, turning to Mahito, “The fuck does Choso mean by that?” He’s scowling at him, his annoyance growing when Mahito doesn’t respond. “Don’t tell me he’s being a fucking weirdo.”

Choso shrugs again, opening his locker.

“Who’s the girl?” Mahito opens his locker, keeping an eye on Sukuna’s reaction, or for any reaction. He can’t help but smile when he sees Sukuna freeze for a moment, a split second, but more than enough time for Mahito to bask in it.

That’s the first time he ever saw Sukuna so much as blink at his antics. Sukuna opens his locker, “Little brother’s friend. She’s a sophomore.” He grabs his clothes from the day before.

Mahito’s smiling, jumping in excitement, “Oh, a young one, those are always fun.” He pokes his head behind Sukuna’s locker door, “You should let me play with her.” Mahito teases, “Just for a day at least, maybe even a week. That’s enough time to break her soul, right?”

Choso can’t help but look at Sukuna, finding his silence a bit more concerning compared to normal. Although, he seems normal, picking at the ends of shirt and lifting it over his head. So, he quickly added, “Yeah, at least tell us her Instagram, or introduce us.” He’s also a bit interested in you, albeit, it’s not for the reason Mahito is.

Mahito likes you purely because you’re close to Sukuna, closer than anyone’s ever been to Sukuna, in fact. Well, except for one exception. So, that alone makes you more interesting. He wants to know what makes you so special to calm the angry Sukuna.

Mahito smiles widely, laughing as he sits on the bench, “See, even Choso is interested in her. Besides, adding a cute face to my collection of photos can be a nice change.” Mahito is quick to grab his phone, opening his camera roll and flipping it to Sukuna. “C’mon, I know you want to see her choking on a cock, maybe even crying over it.” A video plays, one a familiar woman Sukuna saw hanging out with Mahito not too long ago.

Sukuna scowls at him, pushing the phone out of his sight. “Get that shit the fuck out of my face.” He pushes his hair back, “She’s my little brother’s friend, that shit’s fuckin’ disgusting.”

Mahito rolls his eyes, “Oh, and you’re acting like you’re not?” He places his elbows on his knees, holding his face with his hands. “You’re telling me right now, you haven’t thought about fucking her?”

“Of course not, I’m not a piece of shit like you.” Sukuna barks at him, finally snapping.

Mahito leans back, “Touchy, touchy, touchy. Who knew this girl sparked so much emotion within you?” He tilts his head to the side, pulling himself to Sukuna’s face, “Don’t tell me you actually care about this girl, Sukuna?”

Sukuna ignored Mahito, collecting his things in his bag, shoving them with so much vigor and force. Choso can’t help but notice this, an unsure look passing through his eyes. “Uh, Mahito, honestly—“

“Tell me, what did she do that made you so whipped?” Mahito leans in closer, “Does she know how to suck your dick? What about her pussy? Does it taste like something sweet, your favorite dessert, maybe? Or her tits?” He smiles sadistically, “‘Cause I promise you, I was distracted the whole practice staring at them. The things I’d do to defile her—“

Sukuna’s hands are shaking, his knuckles turning white around Mahito’s face. Mahito coughs, but it’s muffled by Sukuna’s palm, his fingers digging into his cheek. Mahito’s head aches in so much unbearable pain, his ears are practically ringing. Mahito grips his wrist, hard.

Sukuna’s breathing is ragged, unstable as his eyes hold the fury of generations. HIs hands are literally shaking around his face, shaking with so much fucking anger.“You say something about her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” He seethes.

Mahito laughs, only to be met with another head slam into the lockers, the bang echoing through the room in a nasty sound. “No… you won’t. You won’t even touch me.” His eyes pear with tears, but the wrinkles that surround them wouldn't indicate any pain. If anything, it looks as if Mahito is thoroughly enjoying this.

“You’re right.” He shoves his head into the locker one more time, letting Mahito’s body slide down to the floor, “I’ll ruin your life, inform the dean about the little “hobby” you like to keep track of with your phone.” Sukuna kicks Mahito’s phone, “Let’s see who’ll be laughing when they find all the videos of the girls you’ve recorded.”

Choso snickers at that, hitting the back of Sukuna’s chest with a soft pat. Almost approving in a way. “Don’t worry, I’ll clean him up.” Mahito’s still laughing, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Hopefully that head slam will turn him back to normal.”

Sukuna doesn’t care, just closes his locker with a slam and leaves the room. He’s quick to walk to his car—for no particular reason—only to notice you’re waiting outside. He narrows his eyes at you, “Why didn’t you wait in the car?”

You push yourself off the door, throwing the keys at him, “I felt weird waiting in your car alone.” You turn away from Sukuna, whispering, “Besides, I didn’t want to burn up in your car.”

Sukuna unlocks his car, “Then you should’ve turned on the AC.” He takes a moment to undress your question, “And it’s winter, smartass.”

You enter the car, lightly closing the door behind you, “That would’ve killed your gas.” You turn to the window, covering your mouth with your palm as you add, “I also have no clue how to turn on your car.”

Sukuna turns to look at you, “You did not just fuckin’ say that.” He huffs a bit, it’s a show between shock and amusement. “How stupid are you?”

“Sukuna, I’m smarter than you, you’re saying more about you than about me.” You shiver a bit, finding yourself growing cold. “Besides, you have one of those expensive cars, the one where you have to push to start it.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, “Whatever. Sounds like someone’s just—“

“Just turn on the damn car, I’m starting to freeze here.” You say, leaning over the center console and watching, “Just show me how you turn on the car, please.” You hug yourself, shivering.

Sukuna eyes how you lean over, and instantly his mind wanders to something more–”Uh, just hold the gas while pressing the button.” He does such, and the engine roars to life. He flicks your head, a bit harshly. “Did you get that?”

You watch as his hand pulls away from you, but immediately furrow your eyebrows. “Wait…” You grab his wrist, pulling it close to your eyes. You blink at the fingerprints staining his skin, “What’s this? You didn’t have this before practice.”

Sukuna takes a moment to pull away, enjoying how you softly massage the spots with the pads of your fingers. “I got pissed.” He tells you nonchalantly, “Ended up–”

“You got into a fight?”

Sukuna tugs his hand away, “Nah, I wouldn’t call it a fight.” He shrugs, but he’s slowly starting to seethe again. Mahito’s words echoing in his head, his annoying ass smile and cocky nature slowly picturing in his head. “Like I said, I got pissed.”

You laugh dryly, “Sounds like you.” You’re still looking at his wrist, a small concerned look on your face. “Although, I would’ve never thought you to be physical. I would’ve thought you were above that.”

“I am.” Sukuna insists, finally rolling out of the parking lot. He’s the type to never get physical over his emotions, he’s too good for that, and doesn’t need to waste his energy on trash. But this time, Mahito got a bit too comfortable with Sukuna, acting as if they’re on the same level. Acting as if he had any fucking right to talk that way about you.

“Sure you are.” You tease, sitting back in your seat and fixing the air vent to hit you. You hate that it’s cold, but you have to wait a bit for it to get warm. All good things come to those who wait.

Sukuna doesn't give a reaction, “You’re following me tomorrow.”

That shocks you, your eyes snapping to Sukuna, “What?” You playfully tilt your head, “What’s with the sudden change of heart? I thought you were dead set on “making this easier” for us?”

“Changed my mind, you’re stupid head is overcomplicating things.” Sukuna finally pulls into the garage. “Just trying to make this easy for your dumb puppy head.” He places his hand atop your head, patting it like a dog.

You know he’s insulting you, but you still can’t ignore how his words affect you. You don’t know what it is, but the tone he used, along with the words, weirdly does it for you. You don’t even want to talk about how your chest soars with euphoria by his actions.

“I feel like we always get home really early?” You push the door open, exiting the car while grabbing your things.

Sukuna nonchalantly tells you, “I speed.” He shuts the door, “Dumbass, what else would you do with a sports car?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I feel like everything you do something nice, you add an insult because you feel you’re being too nice.” You tell him, pushing his hand off your head, “Like, you feel like you weren’t being Sukuna enough, and then you try to be mean to make up for it.”

Sukuna gives you a question look, “The fuck does that mean?”

You laugh, turning away from him as you continue to smile, “Ignore me, I’m just talking out of my ass now.” You wave yourself off, “Sorry, I just like talking to you.”

Sukuna feels his eye twitch, before he turns away from you, muttering a soft, “Idiot.”

･｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 22th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Wednesday

(Day 3)

You know you shouldn’t be, but you are, you’re a bit excited. So excited you actually planned out your outfit last night. You’re wearing a black tube top with a lacy finish, and some light blue ripped shorts. You also grabbed a cute cropped knitted jacket, one that perfectly fell off your shoulder and showed off your outfit. You even have your black converse to match.

“Brat, hurry up.” Someone knocks at your door, which you can quickly deduct is Sukuna. “I’m already heading out.” You swear you can hear him whisper, “God, what the hell is taking her so long?”

Fuck, how long have you been getting ready? It can’t have been that long, right?

You grab your tote bag and rush out of your room, “Calm down, I’m coming.” You pull your socks to peak out from your converse, before rushing towards the garage, where you presume Sukuna is.

“Wait,” Yuuji calls your name, standing up from the chairs from the dining table. You stop, passing him an enthusiastic nod. Yuuji seems stumped for a second, unsure of what to say, before looking down at his bowl, “Uh, are we not going to eat breakfast together today?”

You part your lips, your heart squeezing for a moment. Shit, you’ve been totally blowing Yuuji off in the mornings this past week, because of your project. You take a step in his direction, “Oh my god, Yuuji, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to–”

“Are we leaving or not, brat?” Sukuna yells from the garage door.

You look at him, then back to Yuuji, you press your lips together, “I’m sorry, Yuuji, I can’t today. Let’s catch up later, yeah?” Then you’re quick to follow Sukuna into the garage, entering his car. You feel a bit bad–no, you feel terrible leaving Yuuji alone.

“This is the first time I haven’t seen you in a skirt.” Sukuna comments, “Special occasion?”

You play with the ends of your shorts, “No. Just wanted to spice up my wardrobe.” You pull your hand up, tugging at the tube top you’re wearing, “What? Does it look bad?” Even though your question is playful, there’s a small truthful undertone.

“You always look decent.” Sukuna comments, his eyes moving to look at you for a split second. “Better than Yuuji’s other friend, she’s so fuckin’ annoying.” That doesn’t feel like a compliment, but it can be one.

Still, you can’t help but notice how much more chatty Sukuna has become, you wonder if it’s merely to fill the dead air there would be without it, or if he’s gotten more comfortable with you. You hope it’s the second one. “You know Yuuji’s friends?”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, huffing with little enthusiasm, “Of course, the brat would always invite them over.” He shrugs a bit, “I didn’t mind one of them, but other then that–”

“Oh, you’re talking about Megumi.” You nod to yourself, recalling to the black haired man, “I like him, too, he’s really cool.” You lean on the window, giggling to yourself as you add, “In a cool older brother type of way.”

Sukuna runs his hand down his face, “Weird.”

“Megumi being a cool older brother?” You ask, “Or, the fact you’re not?” You poke his arm playfully, a small laugh adding to your insult. Yet, Sukuna doesn’t bite, he just parks the car. You’re a bit disappointed, but observe your surroundings.

“I work out for an hour before attending class.” Sukuna pops the door open, along with grabbing his drink. “It wakes me up in the mornings.”

You get out with him, your tote bag comfortably resting on your shoulder. “Oh, that’s good.” You grab the notebook, and your pen. “I’ll just follow you around and write everything down.” You push your hair behind your ear, following Sukuna into the gym. “You don’t mind me asking questions, right?”

“As long as it’s not annoying.” Sukuna already prepared himself for your ridiculous questions, planning his answers and how to make them as discreet as possible. But, to his surprise, you’re far more quiet than he originally thought.

Your questions are quick; How many reps are you going to do? What type of muscle are you focusing on today? Also, Monday and Tuesday, was it different? Oh, tell me about those. How much weight are you using? Does it burn? No, okay… Can I take a picture of you? Here’s how it looks, do you like it? Of course it matters, this is just as much your project as much as it is mine.

Even when you’re writing, it’s far more comforting than distracting compared to what Sukuna would’ve intentionally thought. You look happy too, your notebook filling up with more information in comparison to the two other days. Humming to yourself when writing something down, or taking a picture. You have a nice voice.

When Sukuna is done, you’re already sitting at his feet, watching him collect his things. “Do you like working out?” You ask, grabbing the water bottle that rests between your feet. Then pushing yourself off the floor, following him towards the lockers.

“Yeah,” Sukuna is quick to answer, “I like the gains.” He passes you his keys, “Wait in the car.” You roll your eyes, but agree nonetheless.

—

Considering the two of you have different schedules, and you’re not willing to skip any of your classes, you and Sukuna would regroup right after most of your classes have ended. Which means, the two of you would be eating lunch together.

Which also means, you aren’t going to be able to eat lunch with Nobara today.

You pray to everything that is holy she won’t kill you.

You twist your hair up, placing it into a messy bun as you eye the location. You always assumed that Sukuna would be easy to spot, but now you can’t even spot–

“Brat.” Sukuna calls from behind you, “Why’d you put up your hair? Made it hard to spot you.” His hand is softly atop your head, making sure not to mess up your bun. “Hm, it’s different.”

You push his hand off, “I hope it’s a good different.” You look at the bag in his hands, “I didn’t have time to get lunch, sorry.” You play with a strand framing your face.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, “Of course, too busy lookin’ for me.” He shrugs, “Let's go, I know a place where we can eat.” Sukuna walks off in a direction, not bothering to check if you’re following him because he knows you are.

“Fine, I’ll just starve today.” You mumble, dragging yourself behind Sukuna. You’re a bit annoyed, yet, pull out your phone and snap a photo of Sukuna walking. You laugh to yourself when Sukuna gives you an annoyed look.

Yet, you can’t help but notice how many people are… looking at you? You move a bit closer to Sukuna, but this seems to worsen the stares. I mean, you completely understand the stares at Sukuna–he’s actually the hottest guy you’ve ever seen–but at you?

“People are staring at you.” Sukuna finally finds a ledge to sit on, somewhere far from where you and your friends sit. “I told you your hair looks different.” Sukuna reaches into the plastic bag, setting down two bowls.

You laugh dryly, narrowing your eyes at the food, “I think it’s the tattoos on your face, Lord Sukuna.” You tease, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you would think that’s cool. Were you in your gangster phase, or what?”

He scoffs, “It’s better than those stupid skirts you wear everyday.” Sukuna passes you a fork, which you take gingerly. Before you can even ask questions, he says, “Pick one.”

You don’t at all question him, just grab the bowl on top. Yet, set it comfortably at your side, grabbing your notebook and pen. “At least I look good, can’t say the same for you.” That’s a lie, that’s a big lie, you absolutely love Sukuna’s tattoos. Yet, you’re none the wiser to Sukuna’s lies.

“What did the old drunk tell you?” Sukuna grabs his bowel, removing the top, “Probably said something stupid.”

“He thought you were an arsonist.” You snap a picture of Sukuna holding his food, but keep his face out of the picture. “Also, a serial killer.” You tuck your phone away, writing a few things down in your notebook.

“Pretty sure I am.” Sukuna finally takes a bite of his food, in the most Sukuna way possible. Massive and rude, it’s a killer contrast to how he ate in front of his grandpa.

“Stupid.” You push your hair out of your face, “He told me about the fly.”

“I know he told you about the fly.” Sukuna shakes his head.

“Tell me about you.” You take a bite of your food and hum in contentment. You take a quick glance at the bag, noticing the food is from Waba Grill. “I feel like I don’t know that much.”

Sukuna takes another bite of his food, closing his eyes for a moment. “Keep it that way.” His phone rings, but he doesn’t bother to look at it, not yet. “Don’t need a stranger knowing shit about me.”

You laugh at this, “Seriously? But, we’re not complete strangers.” You take a bite of your food, “I feel I now more than you then most peo–”

“Not after this week.” Sukuna places his finished bowl on the ledge, tossing his fork in it. “I hope you remember our deal.” He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head back.

You take another bite of your food, “You know, you could’ve just told me a lie.” You sigh, placing your bowl down on top of Sukuna’s, “Or, pretend to be my friend for this week. It wouldn't have killed the mood.”

Sukuna doesn’t respond, just places the trash in the empty bag. “What’s next?”

“What’s your schedule?” You tap your pen on the notebook, “Remember, this project is about you, not so much me.” You look to the side, “Actually, speaking of schedule, it would be nice to have your classes from Monday and Tuesday, along with the rest of the week.”

“I only have one more class today.” Sukuna pulls out his phone, finally checking the notification, only to see it’s a text from Yuuji. Something he hasn’t received in quite some time. “No practice today, though.”

You’re still not looking at him, “That works out perfectly, I have a club meeting today.” You push yourself off the ledge, “I can meet you after, or I can meet you before. If you don’t mind waiting outside.”

“Look at me.”

“Huh?” You furrow your eyebrows, turning to look at Sukuna, only to be met with his camera. You flinch when his flash blinds your face. You feel your eye twitch, “What was that?” You lean over, trying to look at his screen.

Sukuna huffs, his shoulder bouncing up in a quick laugh. “You look so dumb.” He flips his screen to you, his free hand pressed against his lips as he tries not to laugh. “Yu-Yuuji, he’s asking about you.”

You can feel your face burning from the picture, it wasn’t that bad, or at least you think it isn’t that bad, but with Sukuna’s hushed laughs, you can help but feel embarrassed. “Oh my god, don’t send that to Yuuji, please.”

Sukuna shakes his head, pulling his phone back to his face, only to loudly laugh at another glance of your photo. You glare at him, snatching the trash, “Oh my god, it’s not that bad, actually shut up.”

Sukuna nods his head, “Yes, it is.” He stands up with you, collecting himself a bit more. “Here, give me your number, so I can find you after class.” He reaches for your phone.

You snatch yourself away, “Just meet in the library, by the entrance. My club meets in one of the private rooms.” You grab your bag, along with your phone. “I don’t really like giving my number to strangers.” You playfully narrow your eyes at him.

“Sure, be like that, doll.” Sukuna says with a small smile.

“Whatever, I’ll see you later.” You walk off, tossing the trash away. You feel a smile building on your lips. If Sukuna is one thing, it’s confusing.

Actually no, scratch that, it’s a bi-polar hottie.

—-

“I already said sorry a hundred times now, I’m literally going to eat with you again by the end of this week.” You explain, placing your hand between you and Nobara. “You of all people should know what I’m going through.”

“Yeah, but a text would’ve been nice.” Nobara lands a final blow on your arm, not before pushing you to the side. “You should’ve seen Yuuji, he even asked his brother about you. He thought you died.”

You find that endearing, “Really?” You push the door to the library open, “That’s actually so sweet. I actually feel so bad now.”

Nobara walks inside, pushing her hair behind her shoulder sassily, “As you should be, poor Yuuji boy looked like a lost puppy.” She points a finger at you, “Your negligence is going to force me to call animal control for a neglected puppy.”

You laugh, “Maybe we shouldn’t refer to Yuuji as a puppy, anymore.”

Nobara waves her hand, dismissing your worry, “Sure, whatever. Anyways, I’m off, I’ll see you tomorrow–next week.” She mumbles, “Hopefully Yuuji will, too.” Into your shoulder while the two of you hug.

You turn your head to look at her, “Stop being like that.” You pull away, “I’ll talk to you later.” Your finger pointing at her seems more accusing than comforting.

Nobara playfully throws her arms in the air, “What-what? I didn’t say anything.” She smiles, turning on her heel, “You’re just hearing things.” She waves, “Good luck, Yuuji!”

Yuuji? You think to yourself, where’s Yuuji–

“Hey.”

You jump, a bit of squeak leaving your lips, “Yuuji?” You sigh out in a relief, “You scared me, babe, you can’t creep up on me.” A small laugh leaves you.

“Sorry.” Yuuji scratched the back of his neck, “Just missed you is all.”

Your heart squeezes, honestly, after spending almost the whole week with Sukuna, Yuuji is such a nice breath of fresh air. “Awh, I’ve missed you, too.” You loop your arm around his, pulling him with you to the club room.

“Really? I thought you'd been avoiding me.” Yuuji says with a hint of sadness, “I feel like I haven’t seen you that much.” He places his hands behind his back, averting his eyes for a moment.

Now, this is where immediately anyone would say, ‘Oh my gosh, no! I never would, I’m so sorry.’ But, you’re hesitating. Why? Because, you have no idea what Yuuji is talking about. You haven’t been avoiding him, nor have you been ignoring him. You hang out with him equally to Nobara–maybe, even a bit more–so, why would he think that?

“Avoiding you?” You ask, a bit stupidly, “I haven’t been avoiding you? I like hanging out with you, Yuuji, why would I avoid you?” You take a step closer, your hands reaching out, clearly wanting to hold him.

Yuuji seems to perk up at this, “Really?” He lets his hands fall in yours, while a reassuring nod follows from your head. “Okay, well, I’m glad.” He looks to the side, “I thought you were avoiding breakfast with me, and then you kinda’ pushed me away yesterday during lunch, and you’ve been around Sukuna so much this week—I was starting to think you were replacing—”

“Wait, that hurt your feelings?” You blink a few times, pulling him closer to you. Suddenly, you do feel terrible, you understand Yuuji’s thoughts, and where he’s coming from. So, you respond in a way you wish someone would to you, “Yuuji, oh my god, no. I didn’t mean it that way.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a hug. “I’m sorry, I was just joking, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Yuuji hugs you back, a nice sigh leaving his nose. “No, it didn’t, I just thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.”

You whimper, incredibly touched by Yuuji’s words, “Yuuji!” You whine, hugging him even tighter, “I literally love you so much, you’re so sweet, I could never.” You pull back, hands still on his shoulder, “If I ever do something like hate you, I give you my full consent to murder me in my sleep.” You tell him with all seriousness.

Yuuji gawks at this, “What?! No, why would I do that!” He moves his hand to your shoulder, the two of you holding each other like football men about to say an inspirational quote. “If I ever do that, I will give you permission to kill me in my sleep.”

You laugh, nodding your hand and tangling your hand with his, “Here, I promise that when this week is over, I’ll spend however much time you want me to with you.” You pull him alongside you, “We can even spend a whole day laughing at random youtube videos, I just need this week for my project, remember?”

Yuuji stops dead in his tracks, his free hand slapping over his mouth, “Oh my god, your project. I completely forgot about that!” Yuuji is immediately babbling apologizes, “I’m so sorry, I’m just a really big overthinker–I thought–”

“Hey, you want to join me with my club today?” You ask, cutting off his turmoil of apologizing. “It’d be nice to spend some much needed time with you.” You’re pulling him along to your club room, reaching the door with much enthusiasm.

Yuuji blinks a few times, before twisting his fingers with yours, a smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” Yet, you’re already introducing him to the people of the club.

—

Sukuna hands you a piece of paper, “I wrote my classes for the week.” He looks back at the road, “Got bored during one of my classes.”

You nod, writing the classes down to the corresponding day and times. When you get home, you can ask Yuuji to pull up the school map, and the two of you can estimate how long the walking distance is, and how many calories one burns from said walk. “Okay, perfect.” You shove the papers into your bag.

“Is this what it's going to be for the rest of the week?” Sukuna asks, his eyebrows pinching together slightly.

You press your lips together, “Well, yes, but I also have to do this mental evaluation thingy…” You rub your temples, “I’m basically going to be a therapist for a bit. You can pick any topic of discussion, as long as I can evaluate it.”

Sukuna nods, parking the car in the garage. You are the first one to leave, not before turning on your heel and saying, “I’m going to be working with Yuuji today, if you eat, or go out somewhere, I need to tell me.”

Yet, Sukuna didn’t, he didn’t even respond.

･｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 23th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Thursday

(Day 4)

“Wait, now I need to add that to my information.” You quickly write down the sets Sukuna’s doing, “Why wouldn’t you tell me the first hour of practice is literally just you working out.” You mumble to yourself, “I don’t think you realized how stupid I looked sitting outside… alone.”

“I did.” Sukuna pushes the weights to the ground, sighing out in relief, “I also forgot, I just group this shit with practice.” He gestures around the room, grabbing his water bottle and taking a sip.

Sure. You lean on the wall behind him, “Remember to stretch, I haven’t seen you do that yet.” You tuck your notebook away, “You’re going to tear something, then you won’t be able to play.” You look at your feet and mumble, “Then, I actually have to be a sports physical therapist…”

“Then, you actually might be useful.” Sukuna adds, pushing himself off the bench. “Let’s go, before any of these dicks try to talk to me.” He lifts the weights and puts them back on the racks, wiping off the sweat that accumulated on his brow.

You’re already leaving the room, too busy on your phone to see if Sukuna is following. Fixing both of your bags on your shoulder so your hair isn’t awkwardly tugged by the straps. “I still need to do your mental stuff.”

Sukuna leans his head back, not too far behind you. “Right, then this nightmare is over.”

“This isn’t that bad. I know you like talking to me.” You push the door open, the field flooding your vision. “Besides, you actually have someone to talk to, which I have to assume is better than being alone.” A soft sigh leaves your lips when Sukuna quips something rudely behind you, but you don’t even care to listen. You’re making your way to your special little spot on the field.

Sukuna shakes his head at you. “It’s not.”

You turn on your shoulder, a cheeky smile on your lips as you say, “Sure.”

“Awh, is your dog not watching you today?” Mahito whines behind him, “Or, is she sitting on the field pretty again?” He watches as you remove your jacket and place it on the turf, before you yourself settle on it. Mahito laughs at this, “It’s like she wants me to look at her.”

Sukuna glares at Mahito, “You’re fuckin’ disgusting.” He continues off, but Mahito trails behind him. “Stop following me stitches.”

Mahito just laughs.

Choso is already in front of Sukuna, turning his head over his shoulder, “He won’t stop talking about her.” He mouths, his eyes narrowing with caution. “Good thing you’re keeping an eye on her.”

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, a bit uncomfortable by the sentence. Maybe, worried would be the better word, but… that still doesn’t seem right. Mahito leans on Sukuna’s shoulder, “Now, let’s go have fun. Give something your little dog can watch, yeah?”

Sukuna shoves him off, groaning in disgust.

—

You push your feet into the turf again, your stocking keeping a nice layer of clothing from the small soft rocks. Your elbow resting on your knee while you support your head with your palm, your free hand circling the ground and playing with the rocks.

“Only one more day…” You whisper to yourself. Grabbing a handful of turf and sanding it though your fingers on top of your toes. What time is it? How much longer until the practice is over? You grab your phone and look at the time. “Way longer than I want to be–”

“Fuck off.” Sukuna barks.

You pull your face up, looking at the play on the field. You can make out there are two makeshift teams, one wearing red mesh, and the other wearing blue ones. You can see Sukuna is on the red team, a receiver.

Knowing that his team is about to toss the ball and attempt to score, you decide to give it your attention. It might help time pass by sooner, besides, that’s the first time you’ve ever heard Sukuna yell during practice. Maybe, something interesting will–

Your eyes widen as you flinch, only for your mind to flood with worry. You’re quick to your feet, your eyes frantically trying to deception the situation. Sukuna caught the ball, only to be quickly grabbed for a tackle, which is normal, if another person didn’t run into him, only to clip his shoulder while he was already being forced down.

Even the coach is quick to Sukuna’s side, going down to a knee and touching his shoulder. Did he get it popped out of place, or did it break? Both of those thoughts make you cringe. The coach looks over his shoulder, eye connecting with you, he gestures his head to pull you over.

Which you do without thought, clearly half the field in what feels like half a second. Your eyebrows are furrowed, “Why did you let someone do that to you?” Is the first thing you ask Sukuna, before dropping to your knees and looking at his shoulder.

Sukuna is quick to bark back, “Yeah, cause I like getting hit.” He leans back on his forearms, groaning slightly when he puts pressure on the shoulder he popped out of place.

“You masochist.” You whisper playfully, then finally turn to his coach.

“We already popped it back into place, took it like a champ.” He sighs, pushing himself up and placing his hand on his hips. “Get him home, I can have someone drag him outside if you'd like.” He glares at a blue haired man, “Like the one who actually did it.” He seethes at him.

Sukuna groans at his coach, “I’m not a fuckin–”

The coach glares at Sukuna, quickly shutting him up.

“My legs work fine, I can go on my own.” Sukuna quickly corrects himself.

“He’s not coming to practice tomorrow.” The coach tells you matter of factly, “Make sure he rests today and tomorrow, nothing to exert himself.” He points a finger at Sukuna, “Which means no working out, or anything.”

Sukuna sighs at this, eyebrows relaxing for a moment. “Sounds amazing.”

“Or maybe, I should make you come.” He pretends to think to himself.

You shake your head, “No, that’s not a good idea. It’s just going to get worse.” You look down, only to see you forgot to put your shoes on. Shit, that’s so embarrassing, you keep your eyes diverted, “Don’t worry, I’ll make him stay and rest.”

“Like hell.” Sukuna barks behind the coach, eyebrows clearly furrowed at you.

You turn on your heel, “I'm totally driving us back home, no complaining–” You slap your hand over your mouth, “Or, I mean–I’ll be driving you home.” Your face is burning, “I’m going to go warm up your car.”

On your way back to his bag, you swear you can hear the coach tell Sukuna, “What a nice girlfriend you have.” Only for it to be quickly debunked with Sukuna saying, “Not my girlfriend, just a friend.”

Yet, for some reason, that makes your cheeks feel even hotter. He’s calling you his friend. Not Yuuji’s, or his little brother’s friend, his friend. You’re Sukuna’s friend. You can’t help but smile to yourself.

—

Sukuna bitched you the whole way home, but there was no way in hell you were giving up the chance to drive his pink car. Sorry, but… absolutely not.

“Stop whining, look, we’re already here.” You open the garage with the remote on the vanity mirror, doing the same actions you’ve seen Sukuna do what feels like a million times now. “See, I told you I know how to drive.”

Sukuna keeps his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes screwed shut. “Talk to me when you park the car.”

You giggle, parking the car into the driveway straight inside, rather than reverse parking like Sukuna away does. “Stop being a baby.” You park the car, turning off the engine and sighing in relief, finally taking both your hands off the wheel.

Despite your cool nature, along with your calming words, you were equally nervous to drive Sukuna’s car as he was nervous for his car. You in no way are able to pay him back if you were to damage it in any way. You can even feel your pits sweating, you’re definitely changing.

“Good, give me damn the keys.” Sukuna extends his hand to you, which you ignore, taking the keys out of the engine and exiting the car with them. Entering the house and locking the car once you heard Sukuna close his door.

Even when Sukuna enters the house, he can see the light of your room on. “Did you–”

“They’re in the drawer.” You shout, popping out of your room again with a fresh set of lounge wear. Some shorts, and a simple tank top. “I remember where you put them.” You use your foot to scratch your ankle.

Sukuna notices the wooly white socks you’re wearing, comfortable and domestic. They look nice on you. “Right.” He picks the bottom of his shirt and tosses it to the floor, yawning loudly. “I’m probably going to go out and eat.”

You shake your head, grabbing one of the loops of his pants, “Absolutely not, you’re supposed to get medical help the moment you pop a shoulder out of place.” You let go, moving to his side with a head tilt.

“Like hell I’m doing that shit.” Sukuna sneers at you, making his way to his room. “Doctors are for bitches.” He adds.

“I knew you were going to say that.” You move to the cabinets, staring at all of them intently. “Where are you plastic baggies? Like, the ziplock type.”

Sukuna leans back on the counter, pointing to one of the cabinets incredibly far up. “On top.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it drives you insane. “If you want, I’ll grab it since you’re so–”

“No, I can do it myself.” You place your palms on the counter and push yourself up, you can hear Sukuna shuffle behind you, but you’re too scared to look back. You open the top cabinet, only to see… nothing!

Sukuna’s right behind you, his hands resting by your ankles as he laughs to himself, watching as you twist your body around and sit on the counter in front of him. His arms caging you. You’re glaring at him, “There right here.” He says with an amused laugh, opening the cabinet right below your feet and placing a ziplock bag at your side. “Idiot.”

You snatch the bag, “You’re the idiot.” You push him away and move to the fridge, placing some ice in the bag and wrapping it in some paper towels. “I swear, I should just leave you to rot with that injury.”

“I already popped it back into place.” Sukuna tells you, snatching the makeshift ice pack and placing it on his shoulder. He stifled a groan, clearly in some form of pain. “That shit doesn’t hurt anymore.”

You pout at this, your hands moving to play with the bottom of your shorts. “Okay..” You press your lips together, looking to the side. “Well, if you want, since you don’t have anything else to do but rest, can we?...” You look at him half expectantly.

“Fuck?” Sukuna smirks.

“No.” You deadplan.

Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes before letting out a long sigh. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He pushes himself away from you, moving towards his room. “But, we’re doing this stupid shit in my room.”

You nod, grabbing your bag and following, “Whatever is comfortable for you.” You can’t lie, but… you’re a bit excited. There’s always been a morbid curiosity to see what Yuuji’s or Sukuna’s room looks like, now you can cross one off of the bucket list.

Yet, the moment Sukuna enters his room, leaving the door open for you, you pause at the door frame. Sukuna’s room is… almost exactly how you pictured it to be. A bit minimal, clean, and dark. His sheets are a black silk, and look cool to the touch. Also, pressed right against your wall, the headboard pressed to the wall right next to it.

You immediately think of your first night sleeping here, the sound of the headboard slamming, along with the lewd moans from–you shake your head, stop it.

Sukuna sits on the edge of his bed, “Are you just going to stand there and waste my time, or are you going to actually come in?” He turns on the light of the lamp on his bedside counter, which isn’t all too bright. Honestly, his room is relatively dark.

You nod, pushing yourself forward and placing your things down on his desk. It’s also black and minimal. “I think I’m just going to record an audio, since I don’t really feel like writing things down right now.” It will also make talking to Sukuna way easier.

Sukuna applies pressure to his shoulder, wincing a bit, “Sure, just tell me what you want me to say.”

You place your phone face down next to his, the recodering now saving your conversation with him. “That’s not how this works.” You cross your arms over your chest, pushing yourself off the desk and towards Sukuna. “You need to talk to me, and I’m just listening.”

Sukuna groans dramatically, which causes you to jam your fingers into his shoulder, which in return makes him yell a loud profanity. You just laugh, “Lay down, I’ll help you.” You pull the ice pace away.

“Yeah, fuck no.” He narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.

“Just lay down, and I’ll give you some idea about what you can talk about.” You tell him with a forced smile, “I’m trying to be nice, so just lay down and take it.” You huff annoyedly, “Keep your back to me.”

Sukuna hesitates, but reluctantly lays down. Resting into his sheets, and you can physically see that, his muscles seem to relax. You take this time to sit down next to him, looking at your phone to make sure the audio is recording before feeling your hands. “They’re a bit cold but…”

Sukuna groans, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me with ‘em–” He jumps when your fingertips touch his skin, a surprised gasp following. “What did I fuckin’ say? Get your hands off me.”

“You’re such a baby.” You whisper, “I’m just trying to help. You said so yourself earlier.” You laugh to yourself, well… more at Sukuna than anything. “Remember, when I told you to stretch?”

Sukuna rolls his eyes, he does remember that, but doesn’t want to admit it. “Whatever. At least you’re being useful.” His eyes dart to the drawer when he hears a notification buzz.

You notice it, “Awh, see! You do remember.” You continue to rub the joint, noticing how he groans slightly. You laugh a bit, “You took a real beating today, I’m surprised you let someone even touch you, Mr. I’m good at everything.”

“I wasn’t paying attention.” Sukuna groans at you, flinching when you apply even the slightest pressure on his shoulder.

“Bad Sukuna.” You murmur, using your thumbs to rub soft circles into the joint of his shoulder. “What distracted you today?”

“Nothing.”

The phone buzzes again, making both of you turn your attention to the phones. Sukuna laughs at this, “What respect you’re showing me right now.” He taps your thigh, “Go on, doc, answer whoever is texting you.”

You roll your eyes, reaching over, “As if, I don’t talk to people, it’s probably your phone.” You grab his phone, flipping the device so you can look at the screen, which you can immediately see two messages from an unknown number.

“And, you’re blaming me.” You say with an eye roll.

“Don’t sound so excited that none of your friends are talking to you.” Sukuna sighs, “I told you my password, see what it says.”

You do exactly that, clicking on the two messages to open the banner. “It’s an unsaved number, and you have no message history with it.” You notice there’s an image, which makes you click the message and open the message app. You immediately gasp, playing the phone face down on the counter.

That makes Sukuna flinch, “What?”

“There’s a picture–uh, it’s of a..” You reach over his back, grabbing one of his pillows. “It’s a nude.” You feel your face burning a bit, “And, uh, an equally explicit message.”

Sukuna smirks at you, “Read me the message.” His hand rubs your thigh, you swat it away… more like slap it away.

“No, you can read it.” You face away from him, “Besides, I’m pretty sure that message and picture was for only you to see.” You place your hands on his shoulder again, “You can look at it later.”

“Read it to me.” He whispers, turning on his side, “What’d she look like?”

“Blonde, and pale.” You tell him, grabbing the pillow again and placing it on his head, “Stop looking at me…” You keep focus on his shoulder, the pillow muffling his laughter. “Uhm, she said… can’t wait for this weekend… daddy.”

Sukuna laughs even louder at that, “Yeah, I love that name on your tongue.” He pushed the pillow to the side ever so slightly, “Would love something else on your tongue.”

“Shut up.” You shout, grabbing the pillow and pressing it over his face. “You should probably answer, anyway.”

Sukuna shakes his head, letting you keep the pillow over his head. “Nah, I know who it is. Don’t like her.” He taps the pillow, telling you to release him, which you don’t. He just sighs, dropping his arms as if he died on the spot. “I originally blocked her, looks like she got another number to text me.”

“Weird.” You laugh a bit, finally taking your hands off the pillow with a small laugh. “I promise you, you will never catch me texting a man who has blocked me.” You take the pillow off his face, placing it on your lap. “I would never be that desperate.”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, “Really? A lot of girls do.” He looks at his phone, giving it an annoyed eye roll.

“Define a lot of girls.”

“Three.” He’s passing you a smug smile.

“Is this the third?” You grab his phone, open the camera app and point it at him. You’re smiling a small bit when you quietly whisper, “Whore.” Taking a picture of him.

“Can you block her for me?” He taps your thigh, ignoring your question. “Hopefully she’ll take the hint this time.” He rolls his eyes, “I swear, she’s so fuckin’ crazy. She thinks we’re in love or something.” Sukuna adds a small humorous laugh.

You add a laugh, “Someone’s chatty.” You open his phone, quickly blocking the number. For some reason, it gives you a nasty satisfaction to do so, like Sukuna is choosing you over a desperate attempt for his attention. You, someone he hasn’t so much as kissed, over a girl half naked and horny.

He picks you.

“Do you trust me?” You ask, swiping out of the one-sided conversation and quickly eyeing the chat logs. You can’t help but notice the little amount there is, so little where you didn’t even need to scroll to reach the end of all the chat logs, only three of them being saved, while the others are unsaved numbers. You recognize two of them, Yuuji and their grandpa, but the other one is unfamiliar to you. It’s also the most recent person he’s talked to.

Uraume.

“Nah, I don’t trust you at all.” Sukuna says, turning on his stomach again. “This was all just a diversion to distract you.” He mumbles, “So we don’t have to do this stupid project anymore…”

You press your lips together in a tight smile, finding it a bit amusing. “Okay, whatever, sure.” You tap his shoulder, “I guess, I can give you small praise since it worked… for a little.” You look to the side thinking, “Lets see… hm, if you want, we can talk about football.” You push yourself farther on the bed, your thigh touching his side.

Sukuna loudly–and dramatically–sighs into the pillow, “Don’t like talking about football.” Sukuna mumbles into his pillow, his back contracting and relaxing. “I don’t even really like football, I just did it, because Yuuji–” He stops himself.

Your fingers stop for a moment, “Oh, Yuuji? We can also talk about Yuuji if you feel like it.” You place one of your legs underneath yourself, leaning on Sukuna a small bit. “I really like Yuuji, maybe more than I like you.”

“Right.” Sukuna grits, fixing his left arm to rest underneath his forehead. “I’m sure you want to fuck Yuuji, too.”

You narrow your eyes, “What is your fixation on fucking? Believe it or not, people like making genuine bonds without ulterior motives.” You continue to work into Sukuna’s shoulder, “Like me being friends with Yuuji, or helping you right now because I know your shoulder hurts.”

“You’re just doing this for your project.” Sukuna flutters his eyes closed, softly sighing.

“No, I’m following you around because I need a grade, and I’m having this conversation with you because I need a grade.” You stop massaging his shoulder, using one of your hands to slowly trace the ridges of his muscles. “I don’t need to be helping you right now, more or less massaging you, but I am.”

You see Sukuna’s lips part, only to close.

“I’m doing this because I like you, ‘Kuna.” You bit your lip, a bit nervous. “I don’t think you’re that bad anymore.” You now move your hands to both his shoulders, giving your attention to them.

Sukuna scoffs, but there’s a flattered undertone to it, “Thanks, means so much to me.” He sarcastically tells you.

You laugh a soft smile on your lips, “Of course, babe, I mean every word.” You glance at your phone, before biting the inside of your cheek. “Okay, so… do you want to talk about Yuuji?”

“What is there to talk about?” His shoulders jump together slightly.

“What do you want to tell me?” You push your other leg on the bed, completely placing your weight on it. You don’t want to push the subject too much, you’ve seen the way Yuuji shuts down or gets uncomfortable when speaking about his brother. Even if it’s as simple as asking Sukuna’s name.

Sukuna stays silent, but you can see the mental debate going on in his head. Despite how much you don’t want to, you tell him, “A kind reminder that we’re no longer friends after this, or anything after this week. You can tell me anything, and I’ll forget all about it.” It’s a comforting gesture, “I’m a burner phone you can tell anything.”

Sukuna seems to flinch at this, or–flinch when your thumbs rub at a knot between his shoulders. You can’t tell, but he nods his head slowly, “Yeah, that’s true.”

You know you’re supposed to be excited, Sukuna’s a hard person to get along with. But, you’re not… You like slowly getting to know him. Helping him out like this, or having mean back and forth banter. It’s fun and amusing to you.

You don’t want to stop talking to him.

A part of you wonders if Sukuna thinks the same.

“I don’t know… where to start, or what to say.” He tells you, before his shoulders jump up, almost in a short laugh. “Sit on my back.”

“You can start with—what?” You blink a few times, your hands coming to a halt. “What did you say?” You nervously laugh.

“You heard me.” Sukuna says into his pillow, “My lower back is killing me, some pressure would be nice, friend.” You feel like the word is a drug, being injected into several times today with the dosage growing.

You shake your head, before pushing yourself up and lifting your left leg over his back, and keeping the right one planted. You’re a bit nervous to put your weight on him, “Are you sure?” “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“What if I’m too heavy?” You have your hands on his upper back, keeping yourself stable.

“For fucks sake–” Sukuna groans, twisting his hand and grabbing you tight to pull you down. Which you do with a bit of a jump, “See, was that fuckin’ hard?” He lets his hand fall to his side, right next to your calf.

You take a moment to regroup. Your mind going blank for a moment, your face turning hot. Oh my god, you’re sitting on him, you are sitting on him. You thank everything that is holy that he can see your face right now.

You heard somewhere that when you sit on guys, they can feel your… Oh my god. Actually kill me, actually strike me down where I sit right now. You can feel your mind racing, while your heart beats so unbearably fast, you’re surprised Sukuna isn’t saying anything. Why isn’t he saying anything?!

You look at your hands, just your hands, “Uhm, t-tell me… uhm, tell me about you and Yuuji.” You place your hands on his neck, his hair tickling the tips of your fingers. “Were you two close as kids or anything?” You push your thumbs into the nape of his neck, igniting a soft groan from him.

Sukuna softly grabs your ankle, “Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He’s playing with your fuzzy socks, “My parents–our parents… when we moved in with Pops, we were close. It was up until high school when things changed.”

“Did something happen in high school?” You’re watching his hand play with your sock, tugging and twisting it between his middle and index finger. “To you, or between you and Yuuji?”

“No.” He pauses for a moment, “Yes.” He sighs, “We’d done everything together in elementary or middle school. Absolutely everything.” Sukuna’s hand stops, “But, I started to do a bit more. I… I wanted to do more.”

You bring your hands lower, dipping your fingers into the ridges of his back. “Is that a bad thing? A small sibling rivalry?” You inquire, readjusting your sitting on his back.

“No, it was good at first.” Sukuna tells you, “We’d join sports together, play video games together, and try to get better grades, so on. We were really close, despite how different we were.” He takes a deep breath, then exhales, “Then, we both entered high school.”

High school. Where friendships go to die, and petty rivalries thrive. You remember those times, it’s why you decided to attend college in a different state, you wanted to leave that past–your home life–behind.

“It was fine at first, I was a junior, he was a freshman. It didn’t matter. We still kept up with our rivalry, and we were still really close.” Sukuna laughs to himself, and it sounds genuine, the most genuine you’ve ever heard from him before. “Pops used to joke I was some weird spiteful spirit cursing my cheerful younger brother. “

You remember that, you can’t help but smile. “That’s cute.”

“We did–we had so many achievements together.” He nods to himself, “Yeah.” Sukuna clears his throat, “Then, I got my tattoos.”

You laugh a bit, “Your biggest trophy, right?”

“Yeah.” Sukuna turns his head to the side, looking at you. “An important milestone in my life. Out shining every other achievement.” He wrinkles his nose, “I also stopped spending time with Yuuji, I started hanging out with other people.”

You pull yourself off Sukuna and move to his left, resting your back on the wall and resting your feet over his mid back. “That’s a bad thing?” You play with your shorts, “I mean, it’s not like you have to spend every waking hour with him, right?”

“No–yes. I mean, I left him out a lot.” He turns to his side, pushing your legs off him while sitting up. “This is… I don’t know, it’s something he told me when things went to shit.” He bites the inside of his cheek, “Yuuji told me a lot of things.”

“Do you?... want to tell me?” You scoot in closer, pushing his bangs out of his face.

Sukuna plays with the string of your shorts, “Before any of that…” He taps your stomach a bit, “Uh, beginning of my senior year, my parents contacted me.” You want to gasp, but you don't, you continue to play with his hair. “They wanted to come back, and I wanted them to come back.”

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, “I… I was happy, you know? Why wouldn’t I be?” He smiles to himself, looking at you. “I wanted to show them my tattoos.” He hesitates for a moment, “I wanted to show them… all of them.”

You feel a small jolt of pain hit your chest. His words are deliberate, holding meaning and need to be deciphered.

You laugh a bit, letting your hands fall to your side. You can feel his hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Right, who wouldn’t want to see your tattoos.” You let him pull you closer, “They’re cool looking.” Is one hell of a way to put it.

Sukuna nods, looking at his hand again. “Yeah.” He blinks, “They told me they were going through a rough time, needed to get their shit together, needed money, and wanted to do better for me–us.” He corrects, “They promised. Even scheduled a dinner with me.”

“How was that?”

Sukuna shrugs, “Who knows? They never went.” He scoffs to himself, “Waited an hour and a half outside the damn restaurant like a fuckin’ idiot.”

You feel like you’ve seen that sight before, it feels like a distant vision. Which doesn't make sense, you didn’t know Sukuna back in high school. It doesn’t matter. “What did you do after that?” His hand tightens a bit.

Sukuna presses his lips together, “I told Yuuji.”

That single sentence, those three words, just tore Sukuna apart. His heart on his sleeve, his eyes finally holding some form of life and emotion. Pain.

“I wanted him to come with me.” He’s whispering now. “I’ve never seen–Yuuji so..” He takes a deep breath, “Yuuji didn’t say anything to me that night, or that week. He didn’t say anything until I started packing to move in with my parents.”

He finally looks at you, “I was excited, I was happy.” He bites the inside of his cheek, a small huff leaving his nose. “Surprise, surprise. That’s when things went to shit. I was the reason, who would’ve fuckin’ thought?”

“I’m sure it’s…” You feel the sentence die, Sukuna’s expression pulling on your heart.

“Yuuji walked into my room.” His words seem robotic, like he’s telling this story from a paralyzed body. “He saw me packing. He saw me happy. He saw–” Sukuna blinks a few times, “We argued, a lot.”

You grab his hand.

“I said–I wasn’t a good person my junior year, I’m still not a–” Sukuna pauses at that, hesitating with a furrowed brow, then finally continuing. “I did a lot of shit I regret now, but the thing I regret most in life are the things I told Yuuji that night. I wish I could take it back.”

Sukuna laughs a bit, “You know, Yuuji helped me realize that. I didn’t know how shitty of a brother I was until that night. Told me I never spent time with him, and he said I could never let him have anything. Anything that he liked or did, I always had to be better or just take from him.”

“I thought?–”

“I did, too.” His foot starts bouncing, “We were really angry, we did nothing but yell. My throat burned, it was so… painful.” He grabs his throat, rubbing it slightly, “Then, right before I left, Yuuji…”

You place your other hand on his, “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to, I promise this is fine.” You squeeze, “This is a lot for one person, I don’t want you to push yourself for me–” You flinch, “Uhm, I mean, the deal…”

Sukuna shrugs, “It’s fine.” He looks at your hands around his, it’s comforting, he doesn’t deserve it. He hesitates to say, “Burner phone.” But, there’s an underlying undertone you don’t understand.

You nod, “Okay. Keep telling me.”

“Yuuji, right before I was going to leave, he–he broke down. He started crying–no, sobbing.” His hand grabs yours, “He clung to me like we were children again, hiding from a thunderstorm. He begged me to stay, he told me our parents were horrible, they didn’t deserve a second chance, they didn’t deserve me–” He shakes his head, “But, Yuuji didn’t know them, so it was easy for him to decide for me. I knew them, they were my parents, they raised me.”

“Yeah, that’s completely normal to think.” You pull yourself to sit beside him, your shoulder touching his. “They’re your parents, they raised you for a bit, you’re going to want to see the good in them.”

“No–they weren’t good people. I’m not a good–I wasn’t a good person. I wanted to go with Yuuji, but he’s tears were annoying–his words were annoying, I couldn’t fucking stand them. Everything was fine when I was growing up, so I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Our parents didn’t leave us for no reason, there had to be a fuckin’ reason.”

You can feel your heart drop. There’s no way, Sukuna wouldn’t have…

Sukuna presses his lips together, blinking rapidly. “Then, there was Yuuji yelling and screaming at me about how shitty they were. And, I know–I knew in the moment, I shouldn't have thought it–let alone said it, but I did… It was the only thing that made sense.”

Sukuna looks at you, and you can see the years worth of pain in his eyes, “I told him he was the reason they left.” You can see his eyes glaze over, “Then, I left.” His fist clenches, “I waited in my car, waiting for them to show up. I waited all night, checked my phone every second I could.”

You twist your body to face him, “Funnily enough, I did get some form of sleep. I dreamt about meeting them. I dreamt that Yuuji came, too, and I apologized. Everything went back to normal, and we were happy.” He lets his head fall back on the head board. “Then, I woke up.

Sukuna stays quiet, and he doesn’t say anything for a long time. His gaze stays distant, his face unreadable, for a long time.

“They didn’t come.” He finally gains the power to look at you, look at your expression, look at your reaction, look at how you–the one person to put up with him–are looking at him. Someone who didn’t put up with his bullshit, who smiles at Yuuji without a care, who can’t even look at him without some form of a glare. He’s looking for your reaction to his worst. The sole thing he believes makes him not human, the worst of his life.

‘I’m a burner phone.’

‘I’m doing this because I like you, ‘Kuna.’

He feels his chest tighten, “We weren’t the same after that.” He looks at his hands, “I moved out that week into my best friend’s house. And, never came back. I couldn’t face him.”

Sukuna watches as tears roll down your eyes, hitting the tank top you’re wearing and creating a small wet stain. Your lip quivering, before you wrap your arms around his neck, your words coming out so soft and comforting, “Sukuna.”

These boys, Sukuna and Yuuij. Victims to absent parents. Angry and bitter, ignorant and innocent. You feel terrible for Yuuji, and you feel like a shitty person yourself. You just want to hug both of them, you want to give your love and support to both of them.

Especially Yuuji. He didn’t do anything wrong.

Sukuna is reeling in the way you say his name, it feels like you’ve never said it to him before. It’s amazing, it feels so intimate and caring, he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He hates that you know this now, how can you look at him the same?

“I’m so sorry.” You tighten your arms around him, “You’re not a bad person.”

Sukuna feels his body tense, before wrapping his arms around your torso, and pulling you into his lap. He’s holding you so tight, his face in the crook of your neck, while his knees pull in, trapping you into him.

You just hug him tighter, “Sukuna.” You whisper, your fingers rubbing circles into his back, but there’s no attention-grabbing nature to it. You’re saying his name in a comforting chant, “Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna…”

The two of you stay like this for a long time. A very long time.

Sukuna closes his eyes, his fingers gripping into your shirt. “Yesterday, you and Yuuji hugged.” He tells you slowly, “It wasn’t like this.” You just nod, Sukuna just briefly laughs, “Yuuji deserves a friend like you.” Your name punctuates the sentence.

You hum, “You do, too, Sukuna.” You feel like he’s told you so much, but you have nothing in return to say to comfort him. You want to, you want to more than anything, but nothing comes to mind. That makes you feel terrible. “I feel like… I should say something, but I don’t know what to say.” You softly sigh, “I’m sorry.”

Sukuna shakes his head against your neck, “Don’t be.” He closes his eyes, relaxing into your body. “You’re enough.” You can feel his lashes on your neck, “Your silence is enough.”

Those words, that gesture, sparks an idea in your head. You don’t have to say anything. You slowly pull away from him, pulling your hand in front of your chest.

You point your pinky up.

Then, your pointer and thumb next.

Finally, your pinky and thumb while pressing the rest of your fingers to your palm.

Sukuna doesn’t understand what you’re telling him, and you’re okay with that. He just leans back into his headboard while his gaze falls from you. “I think…” He sighs, knowing what he’s going to say isn’t going to sit well with you, “I think I want to be alone.”

You feel your heart twist in slight pain, but nod nonetheless. “Okay, I’ll give you some space.” You push yourself off of him, sitting on the ledge of his bed for a moment. A part of you is hoping–praying that he will grab you, call for you, or something, to make you stay.

But, Sukuna stays quiet when you grab your phone, grab your bag, fix your socks, fix your shorts, fix your tank top, fix his sheets, turn off his light, stand at his door, and finally close it.

Even when you’re laying in bed, ear pressed against the wall, trying to gauge even a slight thought about what Sukuna is experiencing right now—you know it’s invasive, but you want to know how he feels—there’s nothing. It’s silent.

Sukuna stays quiet.

･｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 24th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Friday

(Day 5)

The moment you were up, you were looking for Sukuna. Yet, you noticed he wasn’t in the kitchen, nor did he leave his room. You’re tempted to knock, get some form of ambience of clarity, or comfort him, but you don’t. He needs time to himself, you mentally tell yourself, he relieved his childhood trauma for your benefit.

You’re quick to find out that Sukuna’s not going to class. You’re a bit bummed, but understand nonetheless.

Yuuji, on the other hand, is incredibly excited to finally spend time with you. So much so, he planned a dinner all of you can attend. You’re tempted to offer Sukuna to join, but hold your tongue.

So, you’re desperately trying to distract yourself, skimming through all your clothing for something to wear. Yet, for some reason you felt a small emotion of uncertainty bubbling within you. Every outfit you put together just doesn’t look good.

“Why’s this so hard…” You mumble to yourself, tossing the shirt you were wearing at Yuuji’s face. You sit next to him on your bed, “I swear, I’m usually really good at outfits.”

“I don’t know why you‘re trying so..” Yuuji stops mid sentence, feeling the glare you’re giving him. “All I’m saying is, we’re just going out to eat.” He pulls the shirt off his face, looking at you again. “You don’t have to extort yourself over an outfit, we’re only going out to eat. Just wear what you’re wearing now.”

“Yuuji,” You start, hands fiddling together in front of you. “We’re going to Claim Jumper’s, I have to look good.” You lean on your closet, “In my standards, that’s a fancy restaurant.” You discreetly look away muttering, “And besides, I wore this to school, it’s dirty…”

“Claim Jumper? Really, you think that’s fancy?” Yuuji smiles, biting the inside of his cheek. “Unless, you’re trying to impress someone?” He copies the way you spring up.

You feel your jaw drop for a second, before quickly recovering. “Gross. I would never.” You turn back to your closet, grabbing a random shirt and looking for some pants. You end up grabbing some shorts, and stand up again.

This time, with someone behind you. Yuuji laughs, reaching over you and grabbing a simple dress. “How about wearing this.” He pulls it off your hanger, holding it over you.

You lean back on Yuuji’s chest, looking up at him with a thoughtful pout. “Hm, I think it cuts too deep in my boobs.”

Yuuji jumps at this, pulling away from you until he is pressed on the opposite wall against you. He says your name in exasperation, “Oh my god! Language.” His face is pure red.

You smile, picking up the dress off the ground. You parted your lips, letting out a soft laugh. “You’re so weird, Yuuji.”

Yuuji breathes out quickly, before smiling. Dimples. “I think I’m the most normal one in this house.” He places his hand on his neck.

You playfully scoff, “Whatever, yeah, this is good enough.” You slip the dress over your body, brushing it out with your hand. Moving your hands under the skirt and pulling down your shorts, along with removing your sports bra in a similar fashion. “I guess you have a good eye, or whatever.”

“See, what would you do without me?” Yuuji boast, you take this time to look forward. Glancing at your vanity to fix the little things about your look. Mostly to do your makeup.

Yuuji decides this is the best time to lay down in your bed, cuddling with all your girly stuffed animals and your pink sheets. “This is amazing.”

You laugh, applying some of your makeup while Yuuji scrolls on his phone. It’s silent, and silence leaves you with your thoughts, your thoughts lead you to Sukuna.

“Tell me about Sukuna.” You ask Yuuji, turning over your chair and giving him your attention.

Yuuji seems to perk at this, giving you a curious look. “Random.” He tilts his head, “What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.” You smile at him through the mirror, picking up your concealer. “Tell me absolutely anything about you two.”

Yuuji thinks for a moment, looking at the roof then finally back to you. “Okay, so… back when we were younger, we were obsessed—and I mean, obsessed with Sailor Moon.”

“Who was your favorite?” You point an accusing finger at him with your makeup brush.

“Jupiter.” Yuuji says, his hand clapping as he tells you, “The ponytail, dude, the ponytail.” He places his hand over his eyes, “The athletic girl aesthetic.” He deeply breathes, “She was made for me, literally made for me.”

You laugh, tapping your lip in thought with the back of your brush. “I was a Venus girly.” You smile, recalling your youth, even humming the theme song.

“No way! So was Sukuna!” Yuuji joins in with you, but actually sings the theme song, “Sailor Moon! Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight…”

You hold your brush like a microphone, “Never running from a real fight!”

“She is the one named Sailor Moon!”

“She is the one named Sailor Moon!” You laugh, applying your light brown color to your eyelid. “That theme song will never leave my mind.”

“Yeah, that show was amazing.” Yuuji pulls up his phone, “We loved it so much, we even dressed up as the characters for Halloween.” He flips the phone to you to reveal a picture with a small Yuuji and Sukuna, where they’re dressed in their characters along in their respective poses.

“Oh my god, Yuuji, I need this photo.” You grab his phone, absolutely adoring the photo. “You guys are so cute together.”

Yuuji sighs, pulling his phone away, “We used to be, now we’re just moody adults.” He sits down on your bed, while you grab some lip gloss and apply it to your lips. “Everything is fine, I just wish we could talk, you know?”

You pass him a comforting smile and nod, “Yeah, I get you, Yuuji.”

Yuuji awkwardly smiles, to himself, “Like, I love my brother, but… I don’t think he loves me.” He shakes his head, waving his hand. “I’m being dumb, ignore me. It’s fine.”

“You’re not being dumb, Yuuji, not at all.” You rub your lips together. You also notice that Yuuji is staring at them, and you can’t help but smile. “Do you want some?” You sit down next to him, your knees touching.

Yuuji’s eyes seem to light up at this, “Hell yeah!” He leans in close to you, “I wanna be a pretty girl.” He bats his eyelashes at you, pucking his lips.

You laugh, grabbing his face and putting the lip gloss over his lips messily. You fake a cringe, “Oh, oops! I think I messed up.” You rub your thumb over his lips, just worsening the lips gloss, “Oh oops! It happened again I think I have too–”

There’s a knock at your door frame, and both you and Yuuji look at it.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sukuna looks at Yuuji, eyeing the sheer sticky substance on his lips, along with your matching ones.

You practically bounce from your spot, your eyes full of glimmer, “Sukuna!” You go to hug him, only to be met with his finger flicking your head. You pause, cupping your forehead. “You could’ve just hugged me back.” You’ve been dying to see him all day, yet, he’s acting as if nothing happened between you two.

Something did happen.

“Too much, brat.” Sukuna whispers at you, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re bad with personal space.” He teases.

You look to the side, crossing your arms over your chest while mumbling, “As if you’re not…”

“What was that?” He barks at you.

Yuuji shakes his head, grabbing your shoulder and pulling you to his side. “No, we weren’t busy? Why, what’s up?” He lets his arm slide around your shoulder, pulling you into him.

Sukuna takes a moment to respond, eyeing the way his brother holds you, but it isn’t long until his attention is back on you. “We’re going to a party tonight.” He tells you, “So, be ready by like seven.”

You tilt your head at this, “Really? Oh my gosh, I love parties.” You dance a bit in your spot, excitement seeping through your body. “Are we going to a bar, or maybe a friend's house?” You tilt your head.

Sukuna shakes his head, “No, I got invited to a frat.”

Your expression falls, “Nevermind.” You turn on your heel, and duck under Yuuji’s shoulder. “I’m going out to eat with friends, who knows how long we’re going to be out?” You grab your lip gloss from the bed.

Sukuna turns on his heel, “Be back before seven then.”

You huff, turning back to Yuuji, “Ugh, can you believe him.” You grab Yuuji’ shirt and tug him down with you on the bed, both of your legs flying in the air for a moment. “He’s so dumb.” There’s a small smile on your face.

Yuuji blinks at you, “Yeah.” He's smiling, nonetheless. He whispers your name, which makes you turn to look at him. This is when Yuuji moves in and cups your ear, whispering a single sentence in your ear.

It takes you a second to process, but the moment you do, you immediately pull away from Yuuji, falling off your bed as you do so. Both of your hands cupping your mouth as your face is burning with embarrassment.

Yuuji laughs, hand mimicking you. “I was just joking, I wasn’t being serious.” He tilts his head at you from your comfy bed, “Looks like you are, though.”

“Don’t say that Yuuji, I don’t–”

“Yes, you do. Don’t lie to me.” Yuuji swings his feet off your bed, narrowly missing your head. “This is actually crazy, he managed to make some like his bitchy face.” He places his hand on your head, “Who knew it would be an absolute angel like you?”

You tilt your head to the side, “Wait, you’re not mad at me?” You cringe to yourself, “Usually when a girl likes their friend’s older brother, it becomes a huge mess.”

Yuuji laughs, “I mean, are we not going to be friends anymore? If so, then, yeah, I’d be pretty mad you’re leaving me for my older brother.” He wrinkles his nose, “That would suck, like genuinely.”

You laugh, pulling your legs together so you can hug him, “Yeah, that would suck.” You smile at him, “But that’ll never happen, I like being friends with you, Yuuji.” You push yourself off the floor, tackling him in a hugh while the two of you fall on your bed. “You’re a bit stuck with me right now, Yuuji, and if this is your pathetic attempt to get rid of me, I’m sorry to say it isn’t working.”

Yuuji pushing you on the bed, hugging you back. “I’m so glad.” He smiles into your arms, hugging your way harder. You are a bit worried that you can’t breathe. Still, you find it endearing how much Yuuji cares for you, despite the small time the two of you have spent together.

You’re also happy he still cares for his brother. Sukuna clearly cares for Yuuji, too, if only the two of them could talk to each other.

When your phone rings, the sound startling you. You glance at your bedside drawer, seeing how Yuuji is closer to it. He leans over and peers at who the caller is.

“Who is it?” You push yourself up and try to look at your phone with him.

“Nobara.”

“Oh.” You turn to look at your door, your eyebrows furrowing together. “Really? Shit, do you think she’s here?” You grimace, waving your hand. “Uhm, just pick up.”

Yuuji follows suit, watching you turn back to the mirror and finish getting ready. He picks up the phone, “Nobara?”

“Yuuji? Where’s the love of my life?” Nobara asks ludicrously, it makes you and Yuuji laugh.

“Currently hiding her body, why? You need her, or something?”

There was a moment of silence.

“Yuuji, I swear to god!”

You and Yuuji burst out laughing, you come onto the call, “I’m here babe, I’m here babe. Tell me, what’s up?” You grab your phone.

Yuuji can hear distant music in the background. “Are you already outside?” He asks, “Cause, we’re not ready—“ Yuuji quickly says your name as a correction, “She’s not ready, so, you may be waiting outside for a bit.”

You send him a nasty glare, one that only makes him laugh.

Nobara takes a moment to respond, and when she does, it’s not directed at any of you. “Did you hear that, Megumi? We’re going to be chillin’ here for a moment.” She sighs, “Alright, I’ll see you in a few.” With that, she ends the call.

Yuuji sits on your bed, placing the phone back on the drawer. “With gas prices, I’m so glad I don’t have a car.” He leans his back, letting his head tilt. “That’s why I take the bus everywhere.”

“You also don’t have a care.”

Yuuji nods, “I also don’t have a car.”

“Does this mean that Nobara is our sugar mommy?” You narrow your eyes in thought, “You know, since she buys us everything, drives us around, is pretty hot…?”

Yuuji blinks a few times in shock, “Oh my god, we’re sugar babies.” He slaps his hand over his eyes, “I swore off this life back my freshman year… I can’t believe I’ve fallen back into this madness.”

“Back into this life?.” You repeat slowly at him, clapping your hands together. “You’ve had experience being a sugar baby?” You place your shoes on, glancing at the mirror and smiling to yourself. Perfect.

Yuuji nods his head placing his head on yours while looking at the mirror with you, “Of course, you think I’m paying for this place.” He scoffs with a laugh, “You’re funny, I would never. That’s too much work for me right now.”

“Babe, Yuuji, love of my life, you’re telling me you’re Sukuna’s sugar baby?” You raise your eyebrow at him, looking at his face through the mirror.

“I’m just Sukuna’s baby.” Yuuji nods to himself, “Yeah.”

You laugh, pulling yourself away and walking towards your door, “Alright let's go, seems like I have to be back before seven for Sukuna.” You sigh, “Sukuna’s twenty one, right? It wouldn’t be snitching him out if I wrote down he drank.”

“I think so?” Yuuji follows you, finger against his bottom lip in thought. “I mean, last time I checked, he was seventeen.”

You deadpanned at Yuuji, “Sukuna is not seventeen, I swear, you and your grandpa..” You smile to yourself, “Seems like Sukuna is the only one who’s good with birthdays in your family.”

Yuuji blinks a few times, “Really?”

You nod, “Yes, babe, he’s the one who corrected your grandpa when he said you were sixteen.” You grab his arm, pulling him to your side, “Now that I really think about it, Sukuna is very observant.”

Yuuji looks over his shoulder, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

—

“I already told you, I don’t plan on drinking, I can just drive us back.” You huff on the window, drawing small shapes. Angry shapes. “I hate that I’m here right now, I never agreed to this.” You’re lying to yourself now, you like being around Sukuna. Even if it is a stupid frat party which you swore off from… still, you know you’re not going to have fun.

Sukuna smiles to himself, “Yes, you did, the moment I agreed you could follow me around.” Sukuna places his hand on your head, “Don’t tell me you forgot our agreement, this is your project we’re talking about here, right?” He cooed at you.

You feel your eyebrows mesh together, of course he’s going to use that against you. You hum, “Sure, whatever.” You scoff, keeping your eyes on the houses passing by, “I can’t believe you even have friends to invite you to these types of things in the first place.”

Sukuna widens his eyes, “You’d be surprised.”

“Name one.”

“There's no one you’ll know. Hopefully, you’ll meet some new people.”

“I wish they’d be in my year.” You finally pull away from the window, leaning back in your seat with your legs crossed. “That would be nice.”

Sukuna playfully rolls his eyes at you, “You’ll meet someone you like.”

You laugh dryly, “Sure.” The rest of the car drive is of that nature, laid back and comfortable. Riddled with small quips back and forth.

Sukuna parks his car in the house's driveway. Which you think is rather convenient. Almost as if the spot is reserved for his car only. Which you can’t help but think is rather kind.

Ah, yes, there once was a time where you did enjoy going to frat parties. The experimental freshman year, however, the one thing people never talked about was parking spaces. How hard it was to find one when a big party was being thrown.

It was either Nobara parked in some random space far from the actual party, and the two of you had to walk over a block to get to the house. Or, show up a few hours earlier, avoiding the whole thing all together. While also helping the host get things ready.

Which is so incredibly embarrassing.

You push the door open, and place your feet on the floor. Being careful to keep everything covered. Wearing skirts isn’t always the most convenient, but it is always the cutest. The particular skirt you’re wearing is a bit hard to move in. It was frilly and light. So, if you're too fast to take a turn, you’re sure you would flash people the panties you were wearing.

Which brings up the argument, why wear it in the first place? You just really like how your ass looks in it, and that’s reason enough.

Then, there’s your shirt, a piece of clothing you and Yuuji picked out together. You had taken too long picking out a skirt, only to give up and ask for his opinion on a shirt, which you’re more than happy you did. It's a crop top long sleeve. Over the shoulder while the material bunched up between your boobs in a loose tie. You amend Yuuji for this one.

Your perfume was sweetly smooth, almost like vanilla. You also made sure to wear the jewelry Sukuna had yet to take back from you, almost in a taunting fashion. You threw on some bracelets to mix up the fun.

Sukuna’s by your side, pushing his hair back with his hand. “Hope you’ll have fun.” He smiles to himself, walking towards the door’s entrance, “Your stuck up ass needs a few drinks.” You swear you hear him mumble, ‘I do, too.’

You tap the back of your hand hard, your eye twitching for a moment as you slowly follow Sukuna towards the porch. You can feel the music's vibration. It feels like it’s vibrating within you, which isn’t a feeling you were fond of–just grew to tolerate. Besides, after a few drinks, you’re sure it will tune out of your brain.

Waiting at the door with Sukuna, you can’t help but notice the odd stares the few people outside are giving you. This time, you can confidently say it’s you they’re looking at, but you do your best to ignore them. Besides, they’re not even in the house. Why does it matter to them?

Sukuna’s quick to meet the person standing by the door, passing them a quick boyish smile. The guy passes an equally boyish grin back, he passes a glance at you, “Brought someone? That’s new.”

“A friend.” Sukuna leans in, and you swear that you see him mouth, ‘Babysitting.’

The man laughs, “Sure, whatever. Another friend.” The guy sarcastically remarks, he opens the door, eyeing you up and down, “Go have fun, gorgeous.”

You pass him an uncomfortable smile. Oh. How lovely. You just know freshman year you would’ve been jumping with joy from the attention. Now, you’re a bit repulsed by it. You’re quick to pull yourself to Sukuna’s side.

Sukuna notices your demeanor, “I feel like I should ask why you don’t like this.” He gestures his free hand around, indicating the party. “But, I’m not entirely curious.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin.

You lean into him, thinking for a moment. “I’m choosing to ignore that last sentence.” You say, looking at the people around you. Some people pass you a kind acknowledge nod, others give you a look you can describe as envy. You wonder if it’s because you’re with Sukuna, “I feel it’s the environment...” You trail off, having trouble finding the words.

“You mean the college life?” Sukuna sarcastically quips, smirking to himself as if he’s the funniest man alive. The things you’d do to just have ten seconds to fight him. “Just say you’re a prude, puppy.” No, twenty.

You look at Sukuna, rolling your eyes at him. “No. I don’t know if you noticed, but this type of party isn’t for women.” You push his shoulder, “It’s for horny college boys like you.” You laugh briefly, “I mean, why else do you think the ratio between men and women is so large?”

Sukuna shakes his head. Waving at someone, he doesn’t know who they are, but they clearly know who he is. He should feel bad, but he doesn’t. They don’t matter.

You nod your head, “See. You’re too close minded to notice these things, ass-hole.” You sing annoyingly at him, your arm looping through his. “Aren’t you happy to have someone like me around you? Sometimes, you need a quick reality check.”

“Happy is one hell of a way to put it.” Yet, Sukuna doesn’t push you away, he does however, pull his hand away from your grasp and put it on your waist. “But, if that makes you happy, who am I to ruin that?”

You laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sometimes, I think you should just agree with me without being a smartass.” You laugh, “It’d make me like you more.”

“As if you don’t like me.”

You scoff, but turn away with your face burning just a bit. “Sure. If that makes you happy, who am I to ruin that.” You mimic with a smile on your face, tilting your head back to poke his shoulder. You pull his shirt, bringing him down to your face level. “Besides, we both know you like me way more than you let on.” You smile at him.

“Sure.” Sukuna looks away from you.

“Just say I’m right, and I’ll praise you.” You smile at another girl, at least some people are nice here. “I mean, that’s why you come to these parties, right? To make out with anything with a pretty face.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure, Su-ku-na.” You pull away from Sukuna, a bright TV screen catching your attention. You make your way over, leaving Sukuna to himself. Your eyes nearling sparkling at the game on the rather big TV–weren’t these college kids also broke?–and watching the careless gameplay.

You lean on the back of the couch’s frame, letting your weight rest on it. Sukuna follows you, turning so his hand is to the couch and leaning on it alongside you. You lean into Sukuna, eyes bouncing from all four screens.

“I bet money, I can beat all these people.” You whisper, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a slut for Mario Kart.” You don’t even bother to listen to Sukuna’s reply before you're leaning into the couch. Watching these strangers horribly play, entertaining nonetheless. Yet, a part of you wonders how they can even hear each other.

The music was so loud.

Sukuna leans into you, “I genuinely do not understand how someone could be this bad at a game.” He laughs in your ear, “And, of all things, Mario Kart.”

You look at him, nose practically touching, you didn’t realize you two were this close. “Don’t tell me you’re also good at Mario Kart.” You place a hand on his chest, creating a small distance between you two.

“I’m good at everything.”

“Ha. Ha. Right, of course you are.” You exaggerate. Yet, your eyes trail to the side, noticing a person standing to the side, yet glancing at Sukuna every now and then. Sukuna notices your distracted gaze, and follows it. However, the person is already by his side now.

For the first time ever, you watch as Sukuna lights up, the biggest smile you’ve ever seen him utter splitting his lips. “Uraume!” He turns away from you, “God, how have you been? It’s been some time?”

Uraume smiles back equally as excited, “Sukuna! It’s been some time.” They wrap their arms around him, closing their eyes for a moment. “My stove’s been quite cold since you’ve moved out, you should really come for a visit.”

Sukuna laughs loudly.

You can’t help but think, it wasn’t that funny… Also, that name sounds… very familiar. Uraume… Uraume… Uruame… wait? Is that the saved number—

“Hell yeah, you know I can’t go long without you, Uraume.” He pulls away, still smiling brightly. His dimples denting into his skin, while his pearly teeth flash at Uraume.

You want him to smile at you like that.

You can’t help but feel a bit shocked, you’ve never seen Sukuna smile like this. Smile like he’s really happy, truly pleased with the person he’s talking to. You give the person a unsure smile, “Uh, hi, I’m…”

“Uraume..” Sukuna places a hand on Uraume’s back, your name leaving his lips with far less enthusiasm compared to theirs in an introduction. “She’s the girl I’m stuck with for the week. I’m pretty sure I texted you about her.”

Uraume nods, “Yes, I remember.”

You blink a few times, recalling back to when you blocked the blonde girl. Mentally noting the few saved contacts, three to be exact. Two that you’re familiar with, and one you’re not.

Uraume.

“I used to live with Uraume.” Sukuna tells you, boasting in a way. “Absolutely love food, and their cooking is…” Sukuna breathes out in relief. “Immaculate.”

Uraume nods, “You should’ve met him when we first moved in, you should’ve seen how picky he was.” They roll their eyes, “I used to call him Lord Sukuna, that’s how stuck up he used to be. Good thing he’s finally gotten over that phase.”

You didn’t know that. They seem close, really close. You’re a bit jealous. You bite the inside of your cheek, turning away. You push yourself off the couch, swiping your hand down Sukuna’s chest. “I need something in my system.”

Uraume tilts their head, “If you want, I can mix up a drink for you?” They look to the side, “Actually, I’m supposed to be making drinks outside right now for some of your friends.”

You watch Uraume leave, a bit disheartened.

Sukuna eyes you, “Naughty puppy, I thought you said you weren’t drinking.” He taunts you.

You turn over your shoulder, walking backwards as you tell him. “Maybe I’d stick to my word if you weren’t up my ass calling me stupid nicknames.” You turn on your heel, making your way to the kitchen. Yet, you could’ve sworn you heard him call your name again. You wave it off, it’s a party, a loud one, you’re going to hear all sorts of things tonight. Even now, pushing through the crowd, you hear some incredibly questionable conversations happening.

You hug yourself, as much as you love the shirt and skirt you’re wearing, you can’t help but find it a bit inconvenient. You don’t have pockets, so you have to shove your AirPods and small wallet into your bra. Leaving you with your phone in your hands.

Reaching the kitchen, you peer into the backyard through the sliding door. Catching a rather large group of people sitting and talking. Which isn’t uncommon, yet, it looks more male dominated.

More specifically, all the women are conversing with a few individuals. He’s leaning on a bar table, drink in hand while everyone is listening to what he is saying, his friend next to him adding small comments. Or, who you assume is his friend at least. They look… familiar.

A part of you want to join them, hear what story they’re telling. You know it clearly caught the attention of many people, so it has to be somewhat interesting, right? More specifically, women, of course. It almost entices you, you feel an urge to go and listen. See what is being said to catch the attention of so many beautiful women. Albeit, you do think one of the men talking is attractive, so that can be a reason alone.

Yet, only certain men have the power to do that at parties. Draw crowds and have them listen. Which strikes a small feeling of curiosity and jealousy, you wish you can have that power. It would be nice to be the center of attention.

You shake your head, turning away. It doesn’t matter.

You look at the kitchen, your eyes dancing over the array of colorful solo cups. Red, pass. Pink, DTF. Blue, taken. Green, complicated. You wonder where the hell they acquired all these colorful solo cups.

Naturally, you would want to grab a pink one, but know better. So, you grab a boring red one, making way to a soda bottle and pouring yourself a hearty amount of soda. You’re quick to take a sip, relaxing as you lean on the counter.

Yet, immediately tense up when someone calls your name.

You look to the side and relief washes over your body. Maki. Thank god you know at least someone here.

Maki looks you up and down, “Never took you as the party type. You look good, though.” She eyes the location, “Did you come with someone, or are you..” She looks at your red solo cup, “Alone?..”

You shake your head, a small laugh leaving your lip, “No, actually, I came with Suk–” You immediately shut your mouth, eyes widening with realization. “I came with my project.”

“Really?” Maki asks, a bit estranged. “Who is your project on, anyway? I think I already told you who mine is on.”

You take a ginger sip, nodding. “You just said it was on your brother, you never told me his name.” You tap your foot on the ground, “Although, I have a feeling I know who he is.”

Maki gives you an expectant look, “You mean Megumi?” She laughs a bit, tapping her finger on the marble countertop, “I thought everyone knew that, I mean? Have you seen us?” She gestures to her face.

“I didn’t know!” You yell, a bit too loudly. You quickly tense up, holding your cup above your lips as if that was concealing you from the world. “Why would you think I would know that? We barely even talk in class.”

“Sure. I guess you have a point.” Maki takes a sip of her drink, “Anyway, what about you? You didn’t tell me.”

“About what?” You respond, tilting your head.

“About who your project is about?” Maki gives you an amused look, clearly trying to hide her smile. She’s not doing that well of a job.

“Oh! Uhm, well…” You play with the end of your skirt, “Remember those football boys who passed us? Like, forever ago?” Maki nods. You bite your lip, suppressing an unsure smile. “Well, I kinda’ got one of them to agree to my project.”

Maki punches your shoulder playfully. “Shit, did you really seduce one of them? Didn’t take you as a temptress, although I didn’t think you were a fan of parties either.” She tilts her head, eyes skimming up and down your body, “What other secrets are you hiding from me?”

You feel your face grow hot as you turn away from her, “Gross, more like forced.” You lean into her, “Remember the guy you told me you hated?”

Maki’s eyes widen, “No.” It comes out so exasperated, and you swear on everything, that two letter word is the most emotion Maki has ever shown. “You kidding–how did you..? Is he here?” She pulls back slightly, “I don’t believe you.”

You nod, “Yeah, I can go look for Sukuna.” You play with the rim of your cup, your finger circling it. “I can grab him really–”

“You’re the girl Sukuna came with, right?” A feminine but scratchy voice comes from behind you.

That voice… it sounds… familiar. Way too familiar. You peak over your shoulder, looking at the women behind you. Your eyes widen at her figure, and blonde hair. Oh my god, it’s the girl you blocked!

No, wait, you actually recognize her. It’s the girl from back when you first moved in with Yuuji. Holy shit, what a small world.

As soon as her brown eyes land on your face, they’re filled with anger. “Oh my fucking god, there’s no way.” She smiles mockingly at you, “Oh, shit, no, I mean…” She pushes a chuck of hair behind her shoulder, “I recognize you, you were the crazy ex.”

You blink a few times, before shaking your head timidly. “N-No, not the crazy ex.” You take a hesitant drink of your soda, “And, Sukuna’s only had one ex back in highschool. I promise, she’s long gone.”

Maki sharply breathes behind you, clearly laughing, before taking a quick sip of her drink. The blonde girl seems to notice this, her expression souring, “Oh, yeah. You’re right, I’m probably just mixing people up. I mean, he was hanging out with this girl like two days ago.”

“That was probably me, too. We’ve been together all week for a project.” You tell her slowly.

She nods, “Oh, that makes so much more sense! Sukuna wouldn’t choose to be around someone like… well.” She looks behind her at her friends, “You know… He’s not into the whole..” She gestures to you, her hand loosely referencing up and down your body. “He’s more into someone… you know.”

You feel unsettled by her smile, “I don’t think I do?” You blink a few times, looking at Maki for a second, “I’m confused here, are you insulting me? Or, are you trying to be mean?” This is so weird, you’ve never experienced something like this before.

She gasps dramatically, “Oh, good lord, no. Why would I be mean to you? I’m just giving you advice!” She moves in closer, “If you want, I can tell you how he likes to be sucked off. Or, what position is his favorite? Whatever you prefer, babe.”

You shake your head slowly, “I–I’ve never done anything with Sukuna?” You wrap your arms around your body, starting to feel a bit… insecure.

She blinks at this, her lips parting ever so slightly, “Oh, right, that makes sense.” She turns away, letting out a breath of relief. “I really thought for a second his standard fell. Good to know they haven’t.”

A part of you wants to bite back, say something along the lines of, ‘I don’t need to touch him, he jacks off to me when I’m right next to him.’ But, you bite your tongue and force something more pleasant out, “Yeah, it’s no wonder he blocked you. Twice.” Maki laughs behind you, which gives you some semblance of security. You pretend to think, “Actually, now that I remember, I was the one who blocked you the second time, since he asked me too.”

The girl’s eye twitches, her demeanor crumbling before she bites her cheek with a smile, leaning back ever so slightly. “Okay, well. Tell him, since the two of you are so close now,” She wrinkles her nose with a smile, “That I’m not going to be free this weekend, but I can make it Monday.”

“Oh, okay.” You smile, “If you want, I can make sure he doesn’t have anyone over in the meantime.” You take a sip of your drink, “I’m sure I can actually entertain him other than whoring myself out and tossing my panties to the side.” You wipe the side of your mouth with your thumb, “I’m sure he’s told you the story behind his tattoos.”

Her fake smile seems to completely fall at this, her depression hardening into something… dark. “You fucking bitch.” She seethes at you, “He didn’t tell you shit, why the hell would he tell something like that to an ugly bitch like–”

“Awh! I told you she’s cuter up closer.” Two arms lay over your shoulders, a head resting on top of yours. “Something else is even better up close, too.” His voice is sickly playful, and he’s touching you as if the two of you had been friends for years. “And to think, Sukuna’s been purposely hiding her away from us?” His head twists to the side, clearly talking to someone that isn’t you.

“Yeah, sure. If that’s what you want to call it.” A lazy voice responds, it sends a shiver down your spine. “Sukuna’s going to kill you if he sees you touching her, though.” He gives you a quick look, it almost looks like a silent look a girl gives you as a warning.

Is he warning you? About… the guy hugging you? That makes sense, right? A shiver shoots down your spine when you hear him laugh above you again. He’s definitely warning you about the guy.

The girl freezes, her eyes moving above your head. “Mahito.” She says with forced enthusiasm, an equally forced smile accompanying it. “I was just having a fun chat with–”

“Your lying face is really ugly.” Mahito says, his hands pulling up and hugging your shoulder. He leans down, lowering his face to your ear, “You should give her some tips.” He tells you, “Maybe she’ll be as pretty as you one day.” He turns his face, and his hair tickles your cheek, “Don’t you agree, Choso?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can only read the girl's expression across from you. It’s sour. “Yeah, maybe if you weren’t a bitch, you’d be more bearable.” Choso finally adds with a lazy shrug.

“Ah, don’t say that, she’s not completely bitchy.” Mahito pulls off you, reaching into his back pocket. “You should see the video I have of her, so much better and cuter.” Again, you can’t stress how enthusiastic he sounds, it’s unnerving.

Choso scowls at that, pulling away from Mahito. “Get away from me…”

The blonde groans at Mahito, twisting on her heel and walking away.

Instinctively, you go to thank the stranger, but immediately push yourself into the counter trying to back away from him. He’s so close, his nose is practically touching yours. “I can’t believe he’s been trying to hide you away from me, that selfish Sukuna.” His hair is a bright blue, and you start to wonder if your hair is considered normal or flashy.

You look at Maki, only to see her equally confused. You look back at Mahito again, “Uh?... Hide me away from you? I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.” You pass him an uncomfortable laugh, leaning farther into the counter.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s why he has you following him around campus.” Mahito blinks at you, his eyes sucking your expression and movements. Knowing that you’re off limits, something that Sukuna has purposely tried to keep away from him, has him high on excitement. “Right, Choso?”

When you look to the side of Mahito, you feel a realization click. Choso, he’s the cute guy from earlier, along with Mahito. These were the guys in the group. “Yeah, you should’ve seen Sukuna’s face when Mahito talked about you.” He smiles to himself, taking a drink from his cup without taking his eyes off you. “Wanted to kill him.”

You look back at Mahito, and really think. He looks familiar for a reason.

It hits you like a truck.

You push on Mahito’s chest, “You’re–you’re the guy who messed up Sukuna’s shoulder.” You stand up straight, “The one who tried to hurt him…” on purpose. The sentence finishes in your mind.

Mahito smiles crudely at this, “Awh, look how scared she looks.” He pulls himself to the side, allowing Choso to look at you, “Her puppy ears are practically pulled to her head in fear, isn’t that so cute?”

Choso seems a bit disturbed by Mahito’s antics, but just passes him a half-assed shrug. At this moment, you truly think this is karma for all the times you’ve called Yuuji a cute puppy, it just has to be.

Mahito only smiles at this, leaning in closer to you, “C’mon, I’ll treat you like one too.” He wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you close to him. “I’ll get you treats, pet you, pull you around on a leash…” He lowers his face in front of yours. “Doesn't that sound nice?”

You shakily exhale, there’s no way this is happening. “No. Why the fuck would I want that?” You look at Maki, watching as she’s moving closer to you, shoving the man off you. You just shake your head at her, “Let’s go, this guy’s a creep.” You place your cup down, grabbing Maki.

Maki huffs, but leaves it as is. “Sure.” She pulls herself to your side, “What weirdos, I swear…”

You just nod in agreement, but pause when you see Sukuna eyeing the place. When he notices you, he’s already by your side, “Where the fuck were you? I thought you said you were getting a drink.” He looks at your hands.

“I was getting harassed.” You say a bit bluntly, “By a boy, and a girl.” She’s definitely not a girl’s-girl.

Sukuna’s eyebrows pinch, his hands coming to your shoulders, “What? What the fuck do you mean? Who the hell was bothering you?” Despite his tone, his hands are actually really comforting. It’s a bit weird.

“Uh, the girl from when I first moved in.” You tell him, which immediately garners an eyeroll. “And, the blue haired guy–Mahito, the one who hurt you on Thursday. He was like…” You look to the side, “He was bothering me.”

Sukuna lifts his eyes from your face, and you naturally turn to look at what caught his attention. Only to close your eyes the moment something sweet and sticky hits your face, it’s wet and trails down your neck. Your skin, and hair clumping together.

Well. Fuck me. You blink a few times, your mascara clumping together as you lift your hand to carefully wipe your eyes. Someone just threw their drink at you, and immediately your mind goes to the annoying bitch from earlier, but it’s quickly debunked by a sinister laugh.

A boy laugh, more specifically. Because, of course it is. Mahito tosses the cup carelessly behind him, placing his hand over his lips. “Oops! Mistakes happen, dear. Let me help you with that.” He immediately goes to wipe you down, but Sukuna’s hand grabs his wrist tight.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Sukuna twist his hand painfully away from you, “I’ll slam your head so hard, it’ll fix whatever fucked up mental shit is going on with you.” He shoves him away, watching Mahito stumble over his footing.

You quickly threw your hair over your shoulder, looking down at your now red stained shirt. You blink a few times in pain, what would Yuuji think? You look back at Mahito, only to see him grinning. God, I want to punch him.

Mahito tilts himself to look past Sukuna, “If you want, I can grab a shirt from my room. Then, you can toss your shirt in the wash.” He’s taunting you, but before you can respond, Mahito’s speaking again, “And, you might want to make a quick decision, that bright red color stains if you leave it in too long.”

You groan, looking down at your outfit. This shirt was something you bought with your plushy-money, a spend that took way too much will power to swipe your card on. Yet, you did because you thought it would be nice to treat yourself.

Which means, it was an absurd amount of money.

You shake your head, “I need it washed now.” You can feel the sticky liquid seeping down your body, collecting into your skirt. “I really like this shirt.”

Sukuna shoves Mahito away, not letting him respond as he tosses Maki his keys, “There’s an extra shirt in my trunk, bring it to the washroom.” He places his hand on your back, “Here, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

You just nod.

——

Frat parties aren’t my thing. You chant in your head like a prayer, hugging yourself. It has been over half an hour, and Maki still hadn’t turned up with the shirt. So, Sukuna decided it was best to give you his shirt–the only one he was wearing–while your clothing washed within the first five minutes of waiting.

So, that’s how your day is going. Sitting on top of a washing machine, in a random frat boy laundry room, practically naked, while Sukuna stands shirtless three feet away from you. Truely how you envision every Friday night to turn out as.

You can feel your face burning at the close proximity. It feels worse than Thursday, at least you were clothed, but now you’re probably equally as naked. God, this is horrible, you genuinely can’t handle this anymore. Luckily, the muffled music and rumble of the washing machine clouds your mind.

You sigh, crossing one leg over the other as you lean back. Enjoying the vibrations over the lower half of your body. Like a nice massage on your legs and thighs. When the door props open, an unsure version of your name follows.

You pop up, tilting your name at the person, “Maki?” You ask, tilting your head. “Is that you?” Please be Maki, please be Maki. You genuinely can’t stand the idea of being in a quiet room with a shirtless Sukuna any longer.

“Yeah.” She pokes her hand in the room, a shirt and key attached. “I thought Sukuna’s car would be parked around the block, not on the fucking drive way.” She laughs, but it’s littered with pain and exhaustion, “Imagine my horror when I spent thirty minutes running around the block only for it to be here.”

You pass her an awkward laugh, pushing yourself off the machine and grabbing the things. “Thanks Maki, I totally owe you one, babe.” She waves you off, “Sorry, again, I’ll see you at class.” You pass her a polite goodbye, before shutting the door and locking it.

You sigh, letting your head fall on the door with a soft thud. “I hate this.”

“Yeah, me too.” Sukuna sighs alongside you.

You turn to look at him, “I don’t know what to say.” You move back to the washing machine, pushing yourself to move atop of it again. “Maybe… you have shitty friends?” You place his keys on a shelf.

“They’re not my friends.” Sukuna says, closing his eyes and trying to relax.

“I told you, you didn’t have friends.” Uraume flashes through your head, and you feel that sting of jealousy again. You drape the extra shirt over your lap. “I guess except for Uraume.” You turn away from him, “I’ve never seen you smile like that, were the two of you–”

“No.” Sukuna stops you, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

You flinch, quickly looking back at Sukuna, “What? Why the hell would I be jealous?” You furrow your eyebrows, your face burning up. “Gross.” You stick your tongue out dramatically, pretending to gag.

Sukuna finally opens one of his eyes to look at you, “Whatever.” He closes them again, “If you don't like me, just say that. It’s annoying to deal with you being a bi–” He stops himself, your name slipping your lips as a correction.

You find it funny, a small laugh leaving your lips, “I don’t like the blonde girl, the one from where I first moved in.” You lean back, softly swinging your legs back and forth. “She totally tried embarrassing me earlier.”

“She’s here?” Sukuna asks, almost tiredly, “God she’s annoying, it’s why I blocked her.” He laughs to himself, “I swear, the unsaved numbers are always the most annoying.”

“She told me she can’t make it this weekend, but is free Monday.” You look at Sukuna, “She thinks we’re sleeping together, too.”

“Oh, okay.” Sukuna opens his eyes at you, “Did you tell her we are?”

“No, I told her I could entertain you without being a whore.” You look down, playing with his shirt on your lap, “And, I kinda’ implied it, too. Maybe…” You bit the inside of your cheek, a small pout forming on your lips. “She just bothered me..”

Sukuna’s shoulders jump up, before a quick breath of air leaves his lips. You snap your head at his face, watching as his hand presses over his lips, trying to hide his laugh. “S-Seriously? You let that annoying bitch get to you?” He is laughing between his sentences.

You can feel your face burning up even more, “Don’t–I didn’t let her get to me!” You turn away, “I just didn’t like the way she was talking to me, or about you...” But, she did get to you.

It’s true, in some weird sense. Maybe, Sukuna didn’t find you that attractive, and all you are to him is his little brother’s annoying friend. It’s true he masturbated to you, once, but that’s when you first moved in. You were new and shiny, now you’re just his roommate.

Maybe, she’s right.

Sukuna laughs one final time, shaking his head. “Cute.” He tilts his head to the side, “You’d be a good girlfriend.” He gives you a playful look, it’s something you’ve never seen before. A bit of a boyish smile.

You absolutely love it. “I’m a good friend, is what you mean to say.”

Sukuna shrugs, “Maybe. Besides, you’re way hotter, I already know she said something about being my type.” He rolls his eyes, “She only says that because I said she had interesting hair.”

You shrug, recalling her hair color. “Blonde. Do you have a thing for blondes?”

Sukuna seems to laugh loudly at that, “She’s not a real blonde. So, I don’t know why she boasts so much about it. But, I honestly don’t care.” He looks at you, his eyes moving to your hair. “You have interesting hair, by the way.”

You roll your eyes and grab his shirt, lifting it. “I can’t take you seriously shirtless, come get dressed.” You push your hair behind your shoulders.

Sukuna looks down at his body, before laughing to himself and pushing himself off the wall. He’s quick to say, “Dress me.”

You give him a questionable look, “Dress yourself.” But, you’re still bunching his shirt together, sticking your hands through the collar. “C’mere.” You naturally spread your legs for him, wanting to give him room.

Sukuna exhales, slotting himself between your thighs. His hands rest on top of them, soft despite their big size. It’s softer than he’s ever touched you before. “I feel like a kid.” He whispers.

“You asked for this.” You scoot closer to him, and his hands slide to your waist. You lift your hands, looping the collar through his head. Sukuna pokes his head in with his eyes closed, before opening them back up to look at you once the shirt hung from his neck.

“You’re soft.” He squeezes you a bit harder, his pupils wide. “Smell good, too. What type of perfume are you wearing?” He looks so… pretty.

It’s so cute, so domestic and sweet. You’ve never seen this side of Sukuna, “Do you… want to feel more?” You lower your hands to his, pushing them down and under his shirt. His fingers ghosts your bare hips and stomach. “You can.”

Sukuna sighs, his eyes fluttering for a moment, “Fuck…” He places his head on your shoulder, his nose tickling your neck. “This is so weird.” This is so hot.

You giggle, “Yeah, you’re acting weird—different.” You lift your arms around his shoulders.

“I feel like I’m going to break you if I touch too hard.” Yet, Sukuna wants to do that, he wants it so fucking bad, it’s driving him insane. He genuinely feels like he’s losing his mind, “But, I want that.”

You look down, your lashes fluttering.

“..Me too.”

Sukuna feels himself snap. His hand tearing away from your waist, and grabbing the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss. One that he’s been dying to have. Groaning against your as the hand on your waist pulls your body flush against him.

You softly gasp. Before wrapping your legs around his torso, pulling him closer to you as your hands tangle in his hair. It’s so soft, and he feels so nice against you. His lips are perfect, moving against yours in a way you’ve been dreaming of.

Yet, you’re surprised by how sweet it is, slow and a bit sloppy. He’s treating you carefully, his lips more passionate and longing more than anything else. Sukuna moans into you, his thumb resting behind your ear while his fingers lift the back of your head. Clearly trying to make it easier to kiss you deeper.

“Fuck, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been wanting to do this.” Sukuna’s trying to control himself, he wants to be nice with you, he really wants to be sweet and treat you like glass, but he wants to absolutely ruin you, too. He wants to see you cry and moan, he wants everything to be filthy and dirty.

You give him a quick kiss, before pulling away. “W-Why didn’t you?... I–I thought you–you hated me?...” You grab the shirt and toss it off Sukuna, pressing another kiss into his lips while the shirt is covering his eyes.

Sukuna smiles against you, “You think too fucking much.” He tosses the shirt to the side, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you into him. “Jump, I want to feel you… closer.”

You immediately listen, applying your weight on Sukuna while he carries you, twisting the two of you so his back is on the washing machine and resting his weight on it. You go to kiss him again, only pause when his hand grabs your jaw. “Wait, puppy.”

Your lashes flutter at his harsh actions, your stomach flutters with a shivering sensation, something about his harsh actions is… really hot. You can feel your knees hit the top of the washing machine as Sukuna sits on it, your thighs sinking into his as you sit in his lap.

You can feel him underneath you, you can feel his cock perfectly between your legs, and it makes you dizzy. You just want to… move, or push your hips forward to get a little bit of friction. Something to satisfy your sopping pussy.

“Can I?...” You place your hands on his chest, moving your hips forward. Immediately a satisfied sigh leaves your lips. He feels thick between your lips spreading you open, your clit catching perfectly and creating delicious friction. You let your forehead rest on his shoulder, you wish you could feel it. Without your panties in the way.

Sukuna looks down for a moment, a shaky breath leaving his lips. “Oh, of course babe, take what you need.” He places his hands on your thighs, letting his fingertips ghost under the shirt you’re wearing. Grabbing your hips and working your pussy against his dick print. “And don’t stop fucking stop, I want to watch you.”

The idea of Sukuna watching this–watching you, makes your body warm. Knowing that he’s getting off to you, and your body is gratifying. It’s you who he’s thinking of, and it’s you who he wants right now. It’s almost feel rewarding, after all the shit he’s put you through, after all these days of being an asshole, he’s finally warming up to you. In the best way possible.

You nod, “Okay, I want you to–to watch.” You push your lips against his, giving him a quick kiss. “Wanna’ make you feel good, too.” Sukuna just smirks against you, kissing you back with a sloping tone, before pulling away.

“Yeah?” He places his hands behind him, leaning back and lifting his hips into you. “Fucking make me feel good, slut.” He looks down at where the two of you connect shamelessly, “Don’t use that smart brain of yours either, let this control you.” He rolls his hips into you, groaning when you join him in the motion.

Who fucking new grinding was this amazing.

You whimper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you grab the bottom of Sukuna’s shirt, and pull it up your torso, revealing the panties you’re wearing to Sukuna’s perverse eyes. He instantly groans, drinking up the way you’re absolutely soaking. Fuck, he wants to fucking ruin you, do shit that will ruin you for the rest of your life. Make it so the only cock that can get you off is his, and his alone.

You pull the shirt off your body, tossing it behind you. Sukuna takes this time to press open kisses on your cleavage. His finger hooking around the middle band of your bra, tugging it down to let your tits bounce out of their confinements. He groans at the sight, his dick swelling underneath your cunt.

He moves to cup one, “Fuck, the things I’ve thought about doing to these.” He kisses around your nipples, his tongue working around them. “Been dying to look at them, knew they’d be perfect.” He finally licks a strip up your nipple, sucking on them to emulate pleasure throughout your body. You pussy throbbing against his dick. He can fucking feel you, he can feel how nasty you are by liking what he’s doing to you.

You’re a bit gone, head feeling cloudy and heavy, almost as if you’re going to faint. It’s almost too much, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re just grinding on him like a desperate slut, happy with any type of attention he’s giving you. But, you love it, it feels so good, it’s amazing. His dick rubbing between you, and his tongue working at your tits. You want to feel it inside, you want to feel–you can’t even… you just want him inside you, anything inside of you.

One of Sukuna’s hands harshly grabs your cheeks, forcing you to look up as his mouth moves to your collarbone. His free hand continues to work your hips into him, loving how you’re ruining his pants. If there’s one thing that Sukuna absolutely loves about sex.

The depravity. When a girl cries over his cock, or loses any sense of reality from how good she feels. When drools or strings of silva coat his cock or lips, the sheets or any surface are absolutely ruined. Sukuna wants to see you crumble into that sense of pleasure, and pain. Feel the very lows so that the highs are absolutely blinding.

Sukuna’s fingers hook underneath your jaw, his hot tongue sliding over your collar bones, forcing your hips to twitch, then still. Clearly a bit shocked by his actions. Sukuna laughs a bit, before rolling his tongue all the way up to your chin, his mind high on your soft squeaks. He needs to fucking taste you right now.

“Stick out your tongue.” Sukuna’s fingers pull you back down to look at him, his thumb hooking around the corner of your mouth. You immediately follow his directions, your pink tongue falling out of your mouth. Sukuna nods, “Fuck yeah, that’s a good slut.” Immediately his tongue rolls under yours, wrapping around in a circle.

It feels so nasty, like he's doing whatever he wants to you, but it feels so good at the same time. Degrading your mind into nothing but a pile of mush as you just do as he says. You can feel your split mixing with his, his taste clouding your mind. It feels so good. You moan, your lashes fluttering while rocking your hips. So–so good.

Sukuna laughs at you, nodding his head, “Yeah, I know you like this shit… becoming a stupid mess on my dick, and I haven’t even done anything?” He pulls his thumb from your mouth, a string of silva pulling and falling on your thigh. “Want me to make you feel good?”

You nod dumbly, naturally following his face for more sloppy kisses, if you could even call them that, before soft moan tears throw you. His wet thumb is carefully slotted right above your throbbing clit. You silva wets your cloth underwear to create a small wet stain.

You sigh, melting into his touch, your cunt rubbing against his clothed dick. You gasp when his thumb starts moving, circling your clit slowly yet pressured. A perfect in between that has your thighs trembling.

Sukuna laughs again, nodding his head, “That’s right, that’s right. Just relax, let me use you.” He whispers, pressing kisses into your ears and cheeks, “You want that, right? To become my fuck toy, a hole for me to fuck for however long and hard I want?” You nod thoughtlessly. “Yeah, I know, baby, I know. You want me to use you, fuck you so hard you’re begging me to stop, right? Don’t you want that?”

You fist your hands around his shoulder, “Y-Yes, puh-please, I want that… I-I want you!” You let your body rest on his, soaking up his warm body heat. It’s suffocating as much as it is dizzying. “Please, I wa–wanna’ co–I wanna…” You babble.

“I know, I know… You want to relax, forget about your studies and anxieties, and just lose yourself in pleasure.” Sukuna mumbles in your ear, “I know how good it feels, you just relax f’me, okay? I promise, you won’t have to use your pretty puppy-brain for any of this.”

You just nod, resting your forehead on his shoulder while his thumb works pleasurable circles into your clit. “Yeah, just like, doll.” He kisses your shoulders, “So fuckin’ glad you let me do this before the week ended.”

For some reason, that clears your head a bit. “Wh-What?” You let out a deep sigh, pushing your hips into his thumb. “What does… th-that mean?..” You moan again.

Sukuna laughs a bit, but it sounds unsure. “You know, this is the last week–”

You stumble on your feet, bumping into the wall across from the washing machine. Your breath is uneven, your lips a bit swollen. Your lips part as your breathing grows in severity, your eyes glazing over. “You’re joking… y-you’re joking, right?” You sniff, “You didn’t just do all that with me, knowing it wasn’t going to change anything–knowing that you’re just not going to talk to me anymore.”

Sukuna looks… indescribable.

You furrow your eyebrows, “Talk to me!” You seethe, your tears sliding down your cheeks. “You’re telling me, that you were just going to fuck me, then still say we made a ‘deal?’ Were you planning to pull that shit on me after we…” You groan, lifting your head and whipping your tears.

Sukuna whispers your name, but it isn’t comforting, it isn’t even to draw your attention, it sounds more like a warning compared to anything. “Don’t be like that, we’ve talked about this.” He pushes himself off the washing machine, taking a step closer to you.

You shake your head, fixing your bra. “Get out.” You bite the inside of your cheek, looking at your feet. “I can’t look at you right now.” You push around him, looking at the washing machine, seeing that the clean cycle has finished.

“It’s not like that.” Sukuna tells you, “I’m just…” He groans.

“I told you to get out.” You toss his shirt at his face, opening the washing machine and grabbing your clothing. It’s damp, it’s cold, but it smells good, and the stain is gone. “Go to the car, wait for me there.” Sukuna says your name, but you shake your head.

Then, you’re alone. You’re alone in a dumb, and hot laundry room. The music pounding in your head, with your clothing damp in your hands. Your feet are in pain from wearing heels, and your body is sweaty and littered with marks. You feel… used.

You sit down on the floor, your eyes blurring with wet tears.

—

Sukuna is… he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. He’s just sitting in his car, leaning back on the headrest, and waiting for you to come back. He feels like he’s fucked up, but at the same time–fuck, he doesn’t know how he feels.

However, Sukuna knows one thing for certain, he feels like shit, and his body is riddled with anxiety. It’s been such a long time since he’s felt like this–well, he’s feeling a lot of things right now, but those are the only things he can pinpoint.

Sukuna flinches when the door pops open, you name almost slipping your mouth, only for Uraume to make a questionable face at him. “Sukuna? Weren’t you here with a girl?” They look in the back seat, “Where is she?”

Sukuna cringes, “Uh, getting changed in the laundry room.” He looks away from Uraume, hands on the wheel.

“You left her–” Uraume pauses, narrowing their eyes at Sukuna, “Why do you look like that?”

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, “Like what?”

“Like shit, Sukuna, like shit.” Uraume says with an emotionless face, they close their eyes leaning back for a moment, “I swear… What did you do to her? She seems nice, too.” They sigh, pouting slightly, “Why would you do that to the girl you like, Sukuna?”

“What?”

Uraume smiles, leaning on the door, “What?” They tilt their head to the side, giving Sukuna a smug look, “You’re telling me you don’t like her? I thought that’s why you introduced me to her?”

Sukuna looks to the house, “I–” He sighs, trying to phrase his words, he has so much to say, but he has no clue on how to say it. “Uraume, I think, I–”

“Excuse me.” You softly say.

Uraume blinks a few times, taking a step back. They bow their head for a moment, “Apologies.” They hold the door open with you, their face emotionless, a stark contrast to when you first met them, “I hope to see you again.”

You just nod, clicking your seatbelt on.

Uraume passes Sukuna a knowing look, before allowing him to pull out of the driveway. Passing the two of you a final wave. Which isn’t returned by any of you.

You shiver, hugging yourself as you lean on Sukuna’s car door. You feel bad about wetting Sukuna’s seats, but you don’t have anything to cover them, and it wasn’t your fault Mahito decided to be an asshole.

And, it isn’t your fault Sukuna is an asshole.

You feel the heater turn on, the cold air hitting you first, before slowly turning warm. It feels nice. You can hear Sukuna adjust himself in his seating, before you shake your head, “Don’t say anything to me.” Telling him that makes you feel absolutely terrible.

Sukuna opened up to you, spent time with you, and fixed his terrible temper–just a bit–because you told him too. It’s endearing, you’ve seen a glimpse into his mind, and a reason behind his actions or why he is the way he is.

But, it still hurts. It hurts so fucking much. It hurts even more when Sukuna calls your name once the two of you arrive home. Yet, you ignore him in favor of returning to your room.

You stay quiet.

Next Chapter: Ch. 5 - "Good Guy."

Tag(s)!: @openup-yourmind, @sherlock-holmes-jr, @maskedpacific, @gasp-a-homo, @diogodxlot, @beahappyhoeee, @tojimeow, @sukunamylovexoxo, @yoontaedotin, @sukunaloverrr, @lanadelreylover4l

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