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sanguineterrain · 2 years ago

Text

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing.

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard.

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say.

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted.

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it.

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?"

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again.

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks.

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly.

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone.

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you.

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you.

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.”

You nod and lay back on the floaty.

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks.

“Just us?”

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you.

Whoops. Right. You're still at work.

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing.

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink.

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it?

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar.

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?”

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort.

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you.

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.”

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add.

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway.

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight.

“You’re awesome, Y/N!"

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?”

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot.

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again."

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young.

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town.

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered."

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family.

"Who do I ask for?"

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck.

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says.

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?"

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler.

She nods in realization.

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince.

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit.

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say.

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree.

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand.

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod.

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest.

"How come?" she asks.

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically.

"They're jerks," she says.

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore.

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans.

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from.

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass.

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on.

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures.

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter.

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font.

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles.

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye.

"No," you manage.

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?"

He doesn't remember you.

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve.

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say.

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin.

Her brows rise.

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away.

Only there do you stop to catch your breath.

And then you cry.

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?"

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table.

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah."

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it.

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute."

"I guess so," you say.

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase.

"Shit, here. Take mine."

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?"

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before.

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now.

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple.

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?"

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention.

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched.

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words."

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack.

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says.

You nearly swallow your tongue.

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do.

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair.

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back.

"Just us?" you check.

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together.

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?"

You check your watch and close your book.

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later."

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.)

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends.

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?"

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs.

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though.

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses.

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look.

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile.

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation.

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always.

You lean your elbows on the countertop.

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes.

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument.

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that.

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking.

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say.

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?"

Lucas nods.

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey.

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you.

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains.

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone.

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie.

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort.

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared.

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector."

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly.

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that.

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?"

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change.

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty.

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business."

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional.

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew.

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool.

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy.

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy.

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason.

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little.

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck.

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.”

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area.

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share.

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!”

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm.

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying.

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded.

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror.

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket.

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it.

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again.

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting.

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth.

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese.

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?"

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too.

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava.

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none.

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head.

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile.

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble.

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met."

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot.

"This town is so shit," you say.

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?"

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle.

You look at the tape in your hand.

"Does Steve like John Hughes?"

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved.

"I did want to watch this one," you say.

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises.

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on.

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap.

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't.

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself.

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been.

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie.

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not.

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy.

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life.

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault.

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him.

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital.

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it.

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you.

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck.

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships.

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that.

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it.

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand.

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open.

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine.

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you.

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask.

“Always.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

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stormz369 · 2 months ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 5

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, angst and comfort, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: difficult conversation about the past, allusions to trauma, abuse, and body dysmorphia

wc: 1.8k

Chapter selection

I kept seeing glimpses of vigilantes after that night. Every Gothamite had a couple stories about seeing Masks, but five sightings in a week was weird, even after a villain prison break! So considering most of the major villains were behind bars or at Arkham at the time, and that most of these sightings were during the day, I was starting to get really weirded out. Signal made an amount of sense, but the rest of them were never seen during the day! And all of them just sort of standing around on rooftops and in alleys? Something was definitely up with the Gotham vigilantes.

I mentioned it to Jason once. Only once. I had seen Nightwing and Robin whispering together in the alley behind my work. The looks on their faces when they saw me was too funny, and Nightwing's gravely “we were never here” before they grappling-hooked away had me wheezing. But the look on Jason's face told me just how unfunny he found it; for a minute I was concerned that he might try to fight them. I decided it was best to keep the sightings to myself after that; they weren't hurting anyone, most of the time they didn't even talk to me, and I didn't want him doing something stupid. Jason was so protective, and I wouldn't have him get hurt because of me.

Our relationship confused me a bit; in some ways we were moving very fast, but in others it was like we were at a standstill. Every day started with a good morning text, and ended with a good night call. Soon he was coming over every few days; sometimes we would cook together, but usually he brought takeout with him. We would eat and discuss the books we'd selected on our mall date. He would sit next to me on the couch; our knees would touch when we turned to face each other. Our hands would touch when I passed him a plate or a glass. Sometimes he would set his hand next to mine on the couch, and I'd rest my fingers over his. Every night on his way out he hovered by the door, and every night I thought he might lean in for a kiss, or a hug, or something. Instead, he'd stare for a minute, his face would turn pink and he'd mumble out a ‘g’night Doll’ and duck out. It would have been cute if it wasn't so frustrating.

I thought I was putting out all the right signals; I turned toward him when he spoke, didn't pull away when our hands touched, scooted closer when he sat next to me, leaned forward just a bit at the door. I wasn't sure if he was shy or uncomfortable, but I certainly didn't want to make it worse, so I wasn't sure how to get things moving.

Finally, after two months of this, I decided it was probably best just to ask him about it. I told him not to bring dinner, got everything to make one of his favorite comfort foods, and made sure it was ready when he arrived. His knock was quieter than usual, I almost didn't realize he had arrived. When I opened the door he had an unusually blank look on his face, like he'd put on a Halloween mask of himself.

“Hey Jay, … you alright?” I frowned slightly, moving to let him in. He hesitated before stepping inside.

“Yeah, I'm alright. How ’bout you?”

I led him to the dining room where the food was laid out. “I had a good day. I made that chili you like, and I- … are you sure you're ok? You look a bit tense.”

I had turned back to see him staring at the table, like he wasn't sure what he was looking at. “... You … cooked?”

“Um, yeah? … I know we usually cook together if we're not getting takeout, but the chili takes a few hours and I didn't think we’d want to wait until midnight to eat … is that ok?”

“... Y- yeah, that's ok … sorry, I … I thought …” he frowned, like his thoughts were a particularly complex puzzle he was trying to put together. “... I usually bring food, so … when you said not to I guess I assumed the worst.”

“Oh… oh! Did you think I didn't want to have dinner together?” He nodded awkwardly, staring at the table. “Oh Jason! I'm so sorry; I just wanted to surprise you with the chili. I love getting to eat together, promise!”

I smiled gently, holding my hand out to him. He slowly reached out and took it, squeezing a bit. “Me too… you … you're too nice to me, Doll.”

“No such thing. You feel ok now?” he nodded, smiling a little, and we sat to eat. The tension slowly eased out of his back as he ate. I tried not to stare too much, it seemed to make him a bit nervous, but I loved the look on his face when he was enjoying a meal.

“... Jason, can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“... Is there a reason you haven't kissed me yet?”

He froze, looking over at me slowly. His cheeks were bright pink. “... W- was I supposed to?”

“Well, not necessarily supposed to, you don’t have to of course, but you could. … I just … Sometimes I think you will, but then it's like … you stop yourself? Is that right?”

“... I just … I don't …” he set his spoon down, chewing on his lower lip. “I'm … I don't want you to get hurt.”

I tilted my head a bit, confused. “... You're worried about hurting me?”

“Doll, I … you know who I am, right?” I nodded. “Do you … remember a few years back, I … was in the news alot?”

I nodded again; “yeah, … you were dead, and then you weren't.”

“... Yeah. I … I didn't … look like this before. … I was dead, and then I was back, and … I was suddenly in this body. I … I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. I still bump into things because I forget how big I am. I still break things when I think I'm being gentle. … I … I could seriously hurt you, and I don't want to, but … I don't know how to do any of this. I was a crime alley kid, and then I was learning to navigate life at Wayne Manor, and then I was dead. I've never done anything like this before, and I …” he took a deep breath, whispering; “I'm so worried I'm going to do something wrong, and you won't be able to forgive me…”

I slowly reached over, setting my hand next to his on the table. I hoped he’d take it, but I didn’t want to push. “... It sounds like you’ve been through a lot … too much.” He flinched a bit, looking away. “You had to figure out how to survive, and it sounds like you had to do it alone most of the time. … But you don’t have to figure this stuff out alone.”

His head jerked slightly, turning toward me but not looking up yet. “I don’t have a whole lot of experience either, but I think relationships are about figuring out life together.”

“... Most people don’t have so much they have to figure out though. You deserve better …” He whispered it, as if he was afraid I would agree with him.

I slid my fingers a bit closer to his, letting them rest against his just a bit. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t take my hand either. “I would take this with you over anything else with anyone else.”

“... What if I can’t give you what you want?”

“What I want is for us to keep spending time together. Can we do that?” He nodded. “Then nothing else matters. We’ll do things as we’re ready for them. And if we’re never ready for something, if you’re never ready, it will not matter to me nearly as much as getting to keep this. Ok?”

He nodded slowly, looking at our hands on the table. He slowly flipped his hand over, finally letting mine slide against his palm. His thumb gently stroked my knuckles. “... I still don’t know how to do this though… What if I do something wrong?”

“What kind of ‘doing something wrong’ are you worried about?”

“.... What if I want something you don’t?”

“Then we’ll talk about it, just like this.”

“... I’m not good at talking things out.”

“You’re doing pretty good so far. And I’ll learn to read your body language for those days where you can’t find words for your thoughts. We’ll just have to be patient with each other. Ok?”

“... Ok.” He continued to stare at my hand in his, running his thumb over my knuckles delicately. “... Can … next time, can you tell me if you have a surprise for me? This was really nice, but … most surprises in my life haven't been good ones.”

I nodded. “Of course. No more surprises without some kind of warning.”

“Thanks ... I … I do want to kiss you, Doll …”

“I’d like that too.” His eyes slowly met mine, and for a brief moment I saw through the imposing man to the little boy he used to be; he wanted to love and be loved, wanted the easy touches and simple intimacies of normal life. But something between childhood and adulthood had obviously gone very, very wrong, and he had locked away those wishes to protect himself. The look in his eyes, like a dying man in the desert stumbling upon an oasis, broke my heart; being nervous in a new relationship was to be expected, but this was something else. Someone had hurt him, and if I ever found out who … I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d do, but I had a feeling I would end that day in handcuffs.

As quick as I saw it, that broken look in his eyes was replaced by a small glimmer of hope, and he slowly brought my knuckles to his lips. I could feel my face heating up as I watched his face; he seemed to be looking for something in my eyes.

“... M- my turn?”

He slowly nodded, letting me lean forward a bit. I guided his hand to my lips and, starting with the pinky, pressed a gentle kiss to the second knuckle of each finger. Jason stared me down, and with each kiss his face got pinker and pinker. When I placed the final kiss on his thumb his lips parted, releasing an almost inaudible high pitched whine.

In the next instant he had one hand in mine, and the other pressed firmly to his face to hide his bright red cheeks. I chuckled softly, offering him a coy smile; “that was a very pretty sound~”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #jason todd #red hood x reader #dc #first person pov #jason todd x reader #wayne family adventures #angst #angst and comfort #Can I Get Your Number?

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creamflix · 1 month ago

Text

PERSEPHONE — ryomen sukuna x female reader [chapter 5: finale]

summary: ryomen sukuna, ruthless tycoon of the alcohol industry, is used to crushing rivals. but when his former meek secretary walks into his office as his newest competitor, he’s blindsided. you’ve transformed into a powerful force, ready to go head-to-head in a high-stakes battle for dominance. as tension rises between you — both in business and something far more dangerous — sukuna realizes this fight might cost him more than just his empire.

content warnings & tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, business tycoon sukuna, mentions of depression and alcoholism, love triangle, angst, slow-burn,eventual smut, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters (suguru geto,uraume, choso kamo, gojo satoru, yuuji itadori) - this takes place in the same universe as my upcoming salaryman! choso fanfic

word count: 11.7k words

notes: with that, persephone comes to an end. thank you all so much for loving persephone! reader and business tycoon! sukuna <3 i hope this was the closure you were looking for. me personally i would have wanted to end it with a 4some with reader, suguru, uraume and sukuna /hj please let me know how you liked it in the comments below, i'd love to hear your thoughts - please grill me, i need the criticism. regarding the side-fics, i will be relasing them as lengthier oneshots. chapters don't really work for me, and i think it would be much more fun to read it in one go! i'll be putting out an announcement for tag list[s] soon enough <3.

masterlist

the rowdy murmur of voices and occasional bursts of laughter echoed faintly in the background as suguru pushed his way through the crowd. gojo’s teasing voice called after him, “yo suguru, where ya goin’? it’s just getting good in here!” suguru barely acknowledged him, stepping out into the quiet hallway and answering your call.

"hey," he said, voice soft but tired.

"hey," you replied, nerves laced in every syllable.

"miss me already?" suguru teased, but his heart wasn’t in it. there was something under the surface, a tension he couldn’t shake.

"yeah, i do." you paused, your throat tightening. "suguru… did you see the tabloid articles?"

there was a beat of silence, and then a deep sigh from his end. "yeah, i saw them. kinda hard not to. gojo thought it was funny as hell. i... i didn’t, obviously." his voice was flat, but you could hear the regret threaded in his words.

“suguru, you know i love you,” you began, feeling the weight of what you were about to say settle heavily on your chest.

"but?" suguru interrupted, his tone sharper than before.

"how did you —"

"just say it, vino," he urged, voice almost breaking. "i’ll handle it."

your breath caught in your throat, but you pushed through. "i need time for me. i need time to focus on myself. i can’t keep finding myself running back and forth between you two. being put on the spotlight like this… it’s not something i want."

there was a low, bitter laugh on the other end of the line. "so, what? you want to focus on yourself… but with sukuna? is that what you’re saying?" his frustration simmered just beneath the surface, restrained but there.

"that is not what i said," you shot back, feeling the rising heat of your own emotions.

"it sure sounds like that," he said, his voice a little more forceful now. "i don’t get it, y/n. i’ve been the one that helped you through everything, and now you’re basically saying you want to go back to that? have you lost your mind?"

"suguru, that’s a low blow, and you know it," you bit out, trying to keep your voice steady. "that happened four years ago —"

"but everyone, including yourself, can still see its effects today!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

you winced, his words digging into the fragile wounds you’d been trying to heal for years. "how i chose to handle the situation is entirely on me!" your voice wavered, the rawness of the past seeping into your tone. "i was a fucking pussy for drowning myself in booze, using it as an escape when i could’ve just… fixed my fucking life."

the line went quiet for a moment. you could hear him breathing, could almost picture him rubbing his temples like he always did when things got too overwhelming.

"...i understand," suguru finally said, his voice low, almost resigned.

"sugu —"

"no, y/n," he interrupted, his tone gentler now, but laced with exhaustion. "i think… i’ll spend an extra couple of days here. with gojo, i mean. i need a break."

"suguru, please —"

there was a long, suffocating pause. you thought he’d disconnected the call until you heard him sigh again, softer this time. "you should go," he said, and his words pierced through you like a cold wind. "to him, i mean."

"suguru…" you whispered, the ache in your chest blooming like a bruise.

"y/n, i’m fine." but his voice betrayed him, trembling ever so slightly. "your words… they sting, but they make sense. you need time for yourself. i get it. i just —" he broke off, struggling to gather his thoughts. "i hope you find what you’re looking for."

his voice cracked, and your heart shattered.

"i love you," he said, the words heavy with finality. "god, i love you. and that’s the best mistake i’ve ever made."

before you could respond, the call disconnected. the silence that followed was deafening, pressing down on you, leaving you feeling hollow and more confused than ever.

but in suguru’s words, in his acceptance, there was also release — something you both had desperately needed but hadn’t known how to ask for. now, you had no choice but to confront the feelings you had been running from. and the terrifying part? there was no going back from here.

you stand in your apartment, your phone clutched tightly in your hand, the weight of the conversation with suguru still heavy in your chest. your mind races, replaying his words, but another name keeps surfacing, drowning out everything else: sukuna.

without thinking, your fingers dial a number, and uraume’s voice crackles through the line.

“miss l/n?” they answer, their tone professional, but there's an edge of concern. “is everything okay?”

you hesitate, biting your lip before blurting, “where’s sukuna?”

there’s a pause on the other end. “ryomen? he’s… i’m not sure. he left the office earlier.”

“what do you mean you’re not sure?” your voice rises, frustration bubbling to the surface. “why didn’t you tell me? why didn’t you —”

uraume’s calm voice interrupts your panic. “miss l/n, i didn’t know. he booked a private jet on his own. i only found out about it moments ago. he didn’t give any explanation.”

your heart pounds in your chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a vice. “so, where is he now? where did he go?”

“he’s on his way to the airport.”

“the airport?!” you practically yell, the shock coursing through you like a jolt of electricity. “why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“i… i didn’t know,” uraume admits, their voice steady but tinged with a rare uncertainty. “he didn’t inform me of this.”

you exhale sharply, pacing the length of your apartment as your mind races. “okay, okay… i’ll meet you there. we need to stop him.”

“i’ll head there immediately,” uraume replies, their voice soft but firm. “don’t worry, miss l/n. we’ll figure this out.”

“don’t — just… i’ll be there in twenty.” you hang up, your heart hammering in your chest as you scramble for your keys.

your legs feel like lead as you sprint through the airport, dodging passengers, security, anyone in your way. you can feel your heartbeat in your throat, the weight of your desperation pushing you forward. the moment you passed through the security gate, it was all a blur — uraume must have worked their magic, because no one tried to stop you. you didn’t even have to explain yourself. no time for explanations, no time for anything except reaching him.

as you break into the open air of the runway, the roaring engines of sukuna’s private jet make everything around you tremble. the wind whips against your skin, tearing at your clothes, but it doesn’t matter. nothing matters except the sight of him — sukuna — climbing the steps to the jet, his broad frame silhouetted against the dull gray sky.

"sukuna!" you scream, your voice raw, your chest aching. the sound of the engines should drown you out, but somehow, as if attuned to your very soul, he hears you. he always hears you.

he pauses, his head turning sharply in your direction, and for a split second, the world seems to stop. his gaze locks onto yours, his red eyes wide with disbelief. you see the flicker of something unguarded, something vulnerable, as he stands frozen in place.

and then, for the first time in what feels like forever, he runs. he runs. down the ramp, missing a step, his usually precise and calculated movements thrown off as he rushes toward you. it’s so uncharacteristic of him — so unlike the sukuna you know — but in this moment, it’s all you’ve ever needed.

you meet him halfway, breathless, your chest heaving as you stop in front of him. the wind roars around you, the plane's wings creating a deafening backdrop, but everything else seems silent. it’s just the two of you. his eyes, stormy and conflicted, bore into yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak.

he looks at you like he doesn’t know whether to yell, hug, or kiss you, his jaw tight, his fists clenched at his sides.

"you’re bad for me," he finally rasps, his voice strained. it’s a confession, not an accusation. his brows knit together, and there’s something in his eyes — fear, anger, something raw. “you ruin me.”

“i know,” you whisper back, the wind biting at your skin, but your words are steady. “i know, ‘kuna.”

his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath heavy like he’s on the verge of something. "we shouldn’t be doing this," he growls, his voice deep and rough, like he's trying to convince himself as much as you. his eyes flash with a dark emotion, flickering between anger and longing. "this isn’t — we can’t."

you step closer, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it. “push me away then.” your voice is soft but firm, your gaze never leaving his.

he stares at you, his hands shaking as he balls them into fists. his jaw clenches, his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. but when he opens his mouth to say something, nothing comes out. his lips part, and you see the conflict raging inside him. the way his eyes flicker between the plane behind him and your face, the way his body tenses as if he’s preparing to do something — anything — other than admit the truth.

"i can’t," he finally breathes, his voice breaking. his hands, trembling, reach for you but stop just short, as if touching you might shatter whatever’s left of him. there’s a roughness in his tone, a vulnerability that you rarely see.

you close the distance, taking his hands into yours. they’re cold, shaking slightly as you pull them towards you. “then don’t.”

he pulls you into him, his hands gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, his body warm despite the coldness around you. his forehead presses against yours, and you feel his breath on your lips. for a moment, neither of you say anything, the closeness too overwhelming.

“this is a mistake,” he whispers, his voice low and pained. “you make me… feel things i shouldn’t. things that don’t make sense. i was…. fine before you.”

but you can hear the lie in his words, the way his voice wavers. you press your hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thudding of his heart, and you know — you know he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“it doesn’t have to make sense,” you whisper back. “it just has to be real.”

he exhales sharply, and for a moment, you feel his resolve crumble. his lips ghost over yours, hesitating, almost as if he’s giving you one last chance to walk away. but neither of you move.

and then he kisses you. hard. like he’s drowning and you’re his only breath. his grip tightens around you, desperate, rough, like he can’t get close enough. the kiss is bruising, intense, a war between need and restraint.

“you… drive me insane,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with emotion. “and i hate you for it.” but the way he’s holding you, the way he kisses you again, says the exact opposite.

“i don’t care,” you whisper, breathless as you kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “i don’t care, ‘kuna.”

he pulls you into him again, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his forehead resting against yours as you both stand there, panting, holding onto each other like you might both fall apart if you let go.

“you better not run from me again,” you murmur, your voice cracking slightly.

he huffs a bitter laugh, his eyes closed as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “you’re the only one i’ll ever come back for.”

and before you knew it, a wedding hall sparkled with warm light, reflecting off chandeliers and casting a soft glow on the sea of guests. everyone was dressed to the nines, but the only thing that seemed to matter was the pair standing at the altar. you, in a stunning white dress, felt the weight of the world fall off your shoulders when sukuna’s rough hands slipped the wedding ring onto your finger. he looked handsome in his black tuxedo, the sharp lines of his face softening for once, as he gazed at you with an expression you’d never thought you’d see on him — vulnerability. yuuji, standing as one of the best men, was barely holding it together. his cheeks were puffed out as he bit down hard, trying to stifle his sobs, while choso gave him a nudge, as if to remind him to stay strong. but even choso couldn’t stop the trembling in his own bottom lip as sukuna leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss.

the hall exploded into cheers and applause, filling the air with laughter and joy. you’re now officially y/n l/n ryomen, and as you stood there in sukuna's arms, you couldn’t imagine it any other way. the warmth of his body pressed against yours felt like home — something you thought you’d never feel after everything you’d been through.

as the evening carried on, the wedding party only grew livelier. the music shifted into something slower, signaling the couple’s dance. you and sukuna stood in the middle of the floor, all eyes on you as you swayed gently to the music. sukuna’s arms were strong around you, and his grip tightened on your waist like he was afraid to let go, but his expression remained neutral, as if he was suppressing the surge of emotion within him.

“you’re doing it wrong,” you whispered, a small smile playing at your lips.

“shut up,” he grunted, though his lips twitched, betraying the beginnings of a smile. “just keep dancing.”

off to the side of the hall, uraume stood watching the scene unfold. their eyes, usually so cold, had softened just a little as they observed how sukuna held you, as if you were the most precious thing in his world. beside them, suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, though his usual smug demeanor had all but vanished.

“you’ll never tell her, will you,” uraume said quietly, their eyes still on you and sukuna as you danced.

suguru exhaled softly, looking down at the floor before lifting his gaze to meet uraume’s. “she knows,” he replied, his voice low, almost tired.

“and yet you’re letting her walk away?”

“you’re letting it happen on your end too, you know,” suguru countered, his tone tinged with a hint of bitterness.

uraume’s brows furrowed slightly. “that’s not fair of you to say, geto.”

“is anything in life really fair?” suguru’s voice was laced with a resigned sadness, the weight of his words heavy in the air between them. he shifted his gaze back to you, a flicker of something unspoken in his dark eyes as he watched you laugh softly into sukuna’s chest. it was a sound he loved hearing, but one that wasn’t meant for him.

uraume didn’t respond, instead focusing on the way sukuna held you. “he really loves her,” they murmured, almost to themselves.

suguru nodded slightly, his jaw tightening. “yeah… he does.”

there was a moment of silence, the only sound being the soft music from the dance floor and the murmur of guests chatting around them. uraume broke the silence, their voice softer than usual. “it’s better this way, for both of them.”

“maybe,” suguru replied, his eyes never leaving you. “but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

uraume didn’t push further, knowing suguru’s heart wasn’t something easily mended, and instead shifted their gaze back to the happy couple. the wedding may have been a celebration, but to the two watching from the sidelines, it was a bittersweet reminder of what could never be.

as the dance ended and the crowd erupted into applause again, sukuna leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you whispered something only he could hear. he smiled — a rare, genuine smile — as he tugged you closer to him, the world around you fading away.

across the room, suguru turned away, letting the noise of the wedding drown out the quiet ache in his chest.

the sound of applause and laughter faded into the background as you pulled away from sukuna after the dance. his lips brushed your forehead softly, his hand lingering on your waist as he watched you with that familiar intensity. "go talk to him," he murmured, his voice gruff but knowing.

you gave him a grateful smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “i’ll be back,” you promised, before turning toward where suguru stood, half-hidden in the shadows near the back of the hall.

he had been watching you the entire time. his arms were crossed, a distant smile tugging at his lips as you approached, but there was something unmistakably bittersweet in his eyes. the smile didn’t quite reach them, as if he was holding back everything he truly felt, tucked safely behind that calm exterior.

“hey,” you said softly, stopping a few steps in front of him.

“hey,” he replied, his voice gentle. the weight of all the unspoken words between you both hung in the air. he uncrossed his arms, standing a bit straighter, but there was a sense of quiet acceptance in his posture. he didn’t need to say it; you both knew what this moment was.

"so..." you started, feeling the warmth of the room seep into your skin, but somehow it didn't reach the ache forming in your chest. "i just wanted to thank you."

he raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a soft smile. “thank me? what for?”

“for everything,” you said, stepping closer. “for being there, for helping me through all the hard times. i don’t think i could’ve done it without you. persephone itself wouldn’t have been there without you.”

he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “you give me too much credit. you’ve always had the strength. i just helped you see it.” his voice cracked ever so slightly, betraying the emotions he kept buried deep inside.

you took another step closer, so close now you could feel his presence like a comforting warmth. “suguru, you mean more to me than you realize. i wouldn’t be standing here right now, happy, if it wasn’t for you.”

his eyes softened, but the sadness remained. “i’m just glad you're happy, vino.” his nickname for you felt heavy with nostalgia, a remnant of the time when he was your closest confidant, your anchor.

"i am happy," you whispered, your eyes searching his. "but… you’re part of that happiness, too. i need you to know that.”

he held your gaze for a moment, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions — regret, love, and something deeper, something that had always remained unspoken between the two of you. "i know," he said quietly. "i know. and i promise i’m okay with it. really." his voice was soft, but firm, as if he were reassuring not only you but himself.

there was a long pause, filled with the quiet sounds of the wedding behind you, but neither of you moved. finally, suguru sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i always knew you’d end up with him,” he admitted, his tone light, though his eyes carried a hint of sadness. “he’s what you need.”

“i don’t want you to think you’re losing me,” you said, your voice breaking slightly as you reached for his hand. "because you’re not."

he hesitated for a moment, then intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly. “i’m not losing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “because i’ll always be here for you. you know that, right?”

you nodded, your thumb gently brushing over his knuckles. "always," you echoed.

suguru took a deep breath, his expression softening as he looked down at your hands, your pinkies brushing against each other. and then, slowly, deliberately, he hooked his pinky with yours, a silent promise that transcended words.

“a promise,” he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet resolve. “no matter what happens, we’re in this together. you and me.”

your heart clenched at the simple, yet profound gesture. a promise, not of love in the romantic sense, but of loyalty, of friendship, of everything the two of you had built over the years. no matter how things changed, no matter how life pulled you in different directions, you would always have this.

“a promise,” you whispered back, your pinkies interlocking tightly, sealing the bond you both knew would never fade.

suguru smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes. "i’m happy for you," he said, his voice low but steady. "you deserve this, all of it."

you squeezed his hand gently, holding on for just a little longer. "thank you, suguru. for everything."

his grip tightened, just for a moment, before he let go, the weight of the world lifting off both your shoulders. "go on," he said, nodding toward sukuna, who stood waiting for you at the other side of the room, his gaze fixed on the two of you.

you smiled softly at suguru, giving his hand one last squeeze before turning away. as you walked back to sukuna, you knew that whatever the future held, you and suguru would always share this unbreakable bond. a promise, made with intertwined pinkies and hearts too full of memories to ever forget.

and in the background, as suguru watched you walk away, he felt at peace for the first time in a long time. your happiness was his happiness, even if it meant you were with someone else.

while you spoke quietly with suguru, sukuna found himself in a conversation he didn’t anticipate: a one-on-one with your mother. she was elegant and composed, warm yet casual – a far cry from woman at your new year’s party. she was standing just at the edge of the reception area, sipping on champagne, her eyes fixed on you and suguru.

“mrs. l/n,” sukuna greeted, a surprising softness to his voice as he approached. there was respect in his posture, and though sukuna had built a reputation for being intimidating, he knew when to tread carefully.

she turned toward him, smiling slightly. “ryomen.” her voice was calm, unreadable. she had a presence that reminded sukuna a lot of you — strong, resilient, but there was a gentle warmth beneath the surface. "come to make your case?”

sukuna’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “i think i’ve already made it.”

your mother raised an eyebrow. “have you now? a man like you, with a past like yours, has a lot to prove when it comes to loving my daughter.”

sukuna didn’t flinch. he’d been expecting this. “i do,” he agreed, his voice steady. “and i’m not going to pretend like i haven’t screwed things up in the past. but she knows me — better than anyone. she sees what i’ve become.”

her gaze lingered on him for a moment, thoughtful, weighing. “she does,” she finally said. “and she’s always been a good judge of character. but i’m not worried about her judgment. i’m worried about yours.”

sukuna’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “i won’t ever let her down again,” he promised. “i know what she’s been through, and i know what i put her through. but i’ve changed. elysium...everything i’ve done, it’s for her.”

your mother took another sip of her champagne, her eyes softening as she studied him. “i know,” she said quietly, and sukuna’s eyes widened just slightly in surprise. “i’ve seen the changes in you. starting elysium? helping her get back on her feet? it’s not something the old sukuna would’ve done. i’ve seen the way you’ve fought for her.”

sukuna nodded, a rare flicker of vulnerability flashing across his features. “she saved me too,” he admitted, almost reluctantly. “in more ways than i can count. i owe her my life, and i’ll spend the rest of it making sure she never doubts that.”

your mother was silent for a moment, and then she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “you sound like a man in love.”

“i am.” sukuna’s response was instant, no hesitation in his voice. “i love her more than anything.”

“that’s good to hear,” she said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “because that’s what she deserves. a man who will put her first, who will take care of her, and who will cherish her.”

“i will,” sukuna promised, and there was a fierce determination in his voice. “i’ll protect her. always.”

your mother’s gaze softened further, and she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “then i have no doubts,” she said. “you’ve earned her trust, and now...you have mine.”

sukuna swallowed hard, feeling a strange sense of gratitude well up inside him. “thank you,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “i won’t let you down.”

she nodded, her expression warm, almost motherly. “you’d better not. because if you do, i’ll be the first one at your door.”

sukuna let out a low, appreciative chuckle. “understood, mrs. l/n.”

your mother smiled softly. “you know,” she began, her tone lightening just slightly, “you and i...we both know she’s strong. but even the strongest people need someone to lean on. take care of her, ryomen. don’t just protect her — make her happy.”

he looked at her, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “that’s all i want,” he said. “to keep her mine. to keep her happy.”

there was a moment of quiet understanding between them, and for the first time, sukuna felt the weight of this responsibility in a way he hadn’t before. he wasn’t just marrying you; he was being entrusted with your entire life, your heart, your happiness. and somehow, in that moment, standing there with your mother, he felt worthy of it.

as the sounds of laughter and music filled the hall once more, sukuna took a step back, a rare softness in his eyes. “i’ll make sure she knows every day,” he added, his voice lower now, more personal. “she’s everything to me. and i’ll spend my life proving that.”

your mother smiled once more, her eyes filled with the kind of warmth only a mother could have. “then i’m glad she has you,” she said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before turning back to the celebration. “welcome to the family, ryomen.”

and as she walked away, sukuna let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. it felt...right. for the first time, he wasn’t the ruthless, business tycoon. he was the man who would spend his life making you happy, keeping you his. he was entrusted with a responsibility that felt almost sacred, and for the first time, he truly believed he was worthy of it.

he turned his head, his eyes catching yours across the room as you held suguru’s hand in a quiet moment of friendship. a promise, not only to suguru, but to yourself, to your mother, to everyone in your life. and sukuna? he would be the man to keep it.

and with that, he allowed himself to feel something he hadn’t in years — a deep, all-consuming sense of peace.

while all the heartfelt conversations were happening elsewhere, yuuji, choso, and uraume were seated together at a table near the back of the reception hall. yuuji had a wide grin on his face, his eyes bright with excitement as he nudged choso with his elbow.

“so, big bro, you’re next in line, right?” yuuji teased, his grin only widening when he saw the unimpressed look on choso’s face.

choso scoffed, rolling his eyes. “please, i can’t even get a full night of sleep, and you’re talking about marriage?”

yuuji, ignoring the deflection, leaned in closer, whispering dramatically, “you’re not getting any younger, bro. you’ll be the one walking down the aisle next! i can feel it.”

“yeah, right,” choso snorted, flicking yuuji’s forehead in retaliation. “you should focus on getting that degree before you start acting like a grandpa, yuuji. you’ve got enough on your plate without playing cupid.”

uraume, who had been sitting quietly, observing the two brothers with their usual composed demeanor, let out an unexpected chuckle at choso’s remark. the sound of uraume laughing — a rare occurrence — caught both yuuji and choso off guard.

“uraume?” yuuji blinked, clearly surprised. “did you just laugh?”

uraume’s expression remained neutral, though their eyes sparkled slightly. “it’s just...you do have a tendency to take on more than you can handle, yuuji. perhaps choso is right. focus on one thing at a time.”

yuuji pouted, crossing his arms. “you guys are ganging up on me! what happened to wedding day joy? isn’t this supposed to be a celebration? and choso, come on, don’t act like you don’t want to settle down!”

choso raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “who said anything about settling down? you’re getting way ahead of yourself.”

yuuji leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. “so, no blind dates then? i mean, you’ve gotta be thinking about it, right? someone’s gotta sweep you off your feet, choso.”

choso shot him an incredulous look. “blind dates? seriously? i’m not interested in that kind of thing.”

yuuji, ever the instigator, pressed on, “oh, come on! you never know. what if someone amazing is just waiting out there for you? don’t tell me you’re going to be single forever.”

uraume, joining the conversation with their usual calm tone, added, “perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst idea. it’s not as if you’re without prospects.”

choso narrowed his eyes suspiciously at uraume. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you’re dedicated, reliable,” uraume replied, their tone neutral but pointed. “qualities people find appealing in a partner.”

yuuji jumped in again, clearly enjoying himself. “see? even uraume agrees! and besides, you’d look great all dressed up for a date.”

choso sighed heavily, shaking his head. “this conversation is ridiculous.”

“no, it’s not!” yuuji protested, flashing him a grin. “in fact, i think it’s a great idea. i mean, there are tons of great girls out there. or guys, if that’s more your thing. you just need a little push.”

uraume, surprising them both again, said, “it wouldn’t hurt to consider it, choso. it’s not as though blind dates are binding.”

choso stared at uraume, slightly betrayed. “you too? i thought you were the reasonable one.”

yuuji chuckled, clapping his hands together. “it’s settled then! choso, you’re going on a blind date. we’ll make it happen.”

choso groaned, burying his face in his hands. “this is going to be a disaster.”

but even as he sighed, the corner of his lips twitched up, a small smile betraying his amusement. maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny part of him that didn’t hate the idea after all.

as the reception wound down and the soft buzz of laughter and conversation filled the air, sukuna stood at the center of the room, glass in hand, his piercing eyes scanning the crowd. he had never been one for sentimentality, never a man of soft words or tender moments. but tonight, with you by his side, his wife, and the closest people in his life surrounding him, he couldn’t help but feel something stir deep within. a sense of fulfillment. of family.

he cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the hum of the room. the murmurs died down, and everyone turned to face him, anticipation hanging in the air. the spotlight seemed to cast an almost softer glow around him as he raised his glass higher.

“i don’t do speeches,” he began, his usual gruffness tinged with something softer tonight, “so don’t expect this to be long.”

you stood by his side, smiling up at him, your hand resting gently on his arm. he caught your gaze for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at you — his wife. a title that still felt surreal in the most comforting way possible.

“but today’s a day for firsts, isn’t it?” he said, glancing around the room. “and… hell, i guess i have some things to say.”

his eyes moved to suguru, standing a few steps away with a drink in his hand. the man was quiet, his usual composed face betraying none of the swirling emotions underneath. but sukuna knew. he always knew. suguru, for all his frustration, was a brother in this strange, twisted way. there was a silent understanding between them, a recognition of what they both had — and didn’t have. sukuna nodded in his direction, subtle but meaningful.

“suguru,” sukuna’s voice was almost thoughtful, “you’ve been there for her, longer than i have. i know that. and as much as i hate to admit it, you’re a part of this too. you’re family.” suguru’s eyes flickered with surprise for a brief second, then a faint smile tugged at his lips. he raised his glass back to sukuna, silently acknowledging the unspoken truth between them.

then sukuna’s gaze shifted to yuuji, sitting at a table with choso and uraume, already smiling that bright, goofy smile that had melted through even sukuna’s cold exterior over the years. yuuji, the kid who without even trying, became one of the few people he cared for.

“and yuuji,” sukuna smirked slightly, “you’ve been annoying as hell, but you’re also one of the best things that’s happened to me.” yuuji’s eyes widened at the unexpected compliment, his grin growing even wider as he nodded enthusiastically, looking like he might burst into tears at any second. “you’ve made things… fun.”

next, choso — the quiet brother, always standing in the background, but never unnoticed. sukuna’s eyes met his, and the two of them shared a look of understanding. they were alike in many ways, silent protectors who spoke more with their actions than with words.

“choso,” sukuna said, his voice dropping just slightly, “you’ve been a steady hand in this chaos we call life. a brother in more ways than one. don’t let yuuji drag you into anything stupid.”

choso chuckled softly, shaking his head as he lifted his glass, his lips quirking into a rare smile. “i’ll try,” he muttered under his breath.

then there was uraume, standing stoically off to the side, watching the entire scene with their usual calm detachment. but sukuna knew better. uraume had been there from the beginning, loyal to a fault, and though they didn’t show it, he knew they cared deeply for him and you. they’d become more than just his right hand; they’d become a confidant, a guardian of his family.

“uraume,” sukuna said, his tone firm but warm, “you’ve always had my back. i don’t say this often, but thank you. for everything.” uraume’s gaze softened just slightly, their lips pressing into a thin line as they gave a small nod, no words needed between them.

then, sukuna’s eyes found yours again, and for a moment, the entire room faded into the background. it was just you and him. the woman who had turned his life upside down, who had dragged him into something so terrifying, so real, that he had no choice but to embrace it. love.

“and you,” sukuna said, his voice softening in a way that only you got to hear, “you’ve made me better, even when i didn’t want to be. i can’t promise that i’ll always be good at this. at… us. but i’ll try. i’ll always try for you.”

your heart swelled at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you squeezed his arm gently, whispering, “that’s all i need.”

finally, sukuna turned to your mother, who had been watching the entire scene with a knowing smile. she had always been wary of him, and rightfully so. but now, as she looked at him, there was something like approval in her eyes. sukuna met her gaze with a rare vulnerability, bowing his head slightly in respect.

“i know i’m not the son-in-law you imagined,” sukuna said, his voice gruff again but filled with sincerity, “but i’ll take care of her. of them. i swear it.”

your mother’s smile grew, and she raised her glass in return, her voice soft but firm. “i know you will, sukuna. you’ve proven that already.”

sukuna straightened, his chest swelling with a strange sense of pride. it wasn’t often he sought anyone’s approval, but hers meant something. it meant that he’d truly earned his place in your life, in your family.

he took a deep breath, looking around the room one last time, taking in the faces of the people who mattered most to him. “so, here’s to family,” he said, raising his glass high, his voice steady, “the one we’re born into, and the one we make.”

the room erupted into cheers, glasses clinking together as everyone raised their drinks in a toast. the warmth of the moment enveloped the space, a full-circle moment for everyone who had been part of the journey.

as the night went on, you and sukuna stole a quiet moment together, standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching your friends and family laughing and celebrating. sukuna wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him, his lips brushing against your ear.

“i love you,” he whispered, the words so soft that only you could hear them.

you smiled, leaning into him as you whispered back, “i love you too.”

and as you stood there, surrounded by the people who had become your family, you realized that this — all of it — was exactly where you were meant to be.

as the night drew to a close, you and sukuna bid your final goodbyes to your guests. suguru gave you a lingering smile, squeezing your hand in reassurance as his pinky briefly locked with yours. yuuji’s eyes shimmered with happy tears as he waved you off enthusiastically, and choso smiled, nodding in your direction. uraume gave you a small, stiff bow — their way of showing warmth. sukuna grunted in his usual fashion, a goodbye only he could pull off with such weight behind it.

you walked together, hand in hand, toward the hotel, the stars shimmering above like they were celebrating the night alongside you. once inside, you gasped dramatically, your hand flying to your chest in mock surprise as you stepped into your hotel suite. the room was nothing short of breathtaking — pure opulence. tall, floor-to-ceiling windows gave a panoramic view of the city’s skyline, sparkling against the deep midnight blue of the night. the room itself was decorated in warm tones of gold and cream, plush sofas, thick velvet curtains, and a massive bed adorned with silk sheets that looked almost too perfect to touch. a bottle of champagne sat chilled on a nearby table, along with rose petals that scattered elegantly across the floor.

"wow," you breathed out, eyes wide as you took it all in, "uraume really pulled out all the stops, huh."

before you could say more, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into a firm, familiar chest. sukuna's low, gruff chuckle rumbled behind you as he hugged you tightly, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“uraume?” he muttered into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “woman, i’ll have you know i arranged this all by myself.” his voice was filled with a playful arrogance, and you couldn’t help but smile at the pride in his tone.

he shifted slightly, pressing his lips to your cheek in a soft, fleeting kiss before his teeth grazed your skin. “going to be spending the night with my wife,” he punctuated the title with a teasing nibble, and you couldn’t hold back the squeal that escaped your lips, laughter bubbling out of you as his grip tightened.

“sukuna!” you giggled, trying to wriggle free from his hold, but he wasn’t having it. with a mischievous glint in his eye, he scooped you up effortlessly, your legs kicking lightly in the air as he spun you around toward the bed.

“oh no, you’re not getting away that easily,” he smirked, carrying you over to the bed as you laughed uncontrollably in his arms. the playfulness, the warmth between you two, filled the room, making it feel less like a grand hotel suite and more like the cozy heart of your new life together.

as sukuna laid you down gently on the bed, you looked up at him, his smirk softening into something more tender, more real. for all his arrogance, all his sharp edges, tonight was a reminder that he was yours. and you were his.

“my wife,” he repeated, softer this time, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

you both fell back onto the bed, lying side by side in a quiet, comfortable silence. neither of you felt the need to rush into anything; just being there, together, was enough for now. staring up at the ceiling, you let out a small sigh, your fingers lightly grazing the silk sheets beneath you.

"so," you broke the silence, your voice soft, "i’ve been meaning to ask you about the tattoos on your face.”

sukuna turned his head slightly to glance at you, one brow raising in that signature way of his. “what about them?”

“well, i was just wondering... what’s the story behind them?”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes as if dismissing the question. “bad high school decision. don’t overthink it,” he muttered, his voice nonchalant.

you giggled, not entirely convinced by his answer, and that’s when something clicked in your head. you turned your face to him, curiosity in your eyes. “wait a minute… choso has a similar marking on his nose. is that connected, too?”

sukuna smirked, his gaze flicking to the ceiling again. “yeah, same thing. it’s a tradition of sorts. something we did back then. me, choso.. thought it’d make us look tough or whatever.”

“and did it?” you asked, teasingly.

“hell yeah,” he answered, though there was a playful glint in his eyes that told you he was amused by the memory.

you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, the sound filling the room. “so what other bad decisions did you make, mister tough guy?”

he turned to you again, this time with a sly smile on his lips. there was a brief pause before he replied, his voice lower, softer. “you.”

you blinked in surprise, and before you could react, he added with a smirk, “but you’re the best bad decision i’ve ever made.”

your heart fluttered at his words, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. you knew it was sukuna’s way of expressing something deeper — his own version of affection. there was something about how he framed it, how he spoke with such a bluntness that always left you feeling more seen, more known, than anyone else could make you feel.

you playfully nudged him with your elbow. “you’re such an idiot.”

he chuckled, a rare sound from him, before his hand found yours, interlocking your fingers as you both lay there, side by side. the silence that followed wasn’t awkward but peaceful, the two of you lost in thought, yet somehow connected in the most intimate of ways.

as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself smiling, your eyes growing heavier, feeling safe and loved. you had never imagined this life — the twists, the turns, the bad decisions that led you here. but lying next to sukuna, his hand in yours, you couldn’t help but think it was all worth it.

because sometimes, the best decisions come from the worst ones.

you burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the lavish hotel room as sukuna, ever the provocateur, leaned in closer, his body caging you against the soft pillows.

“if you tell me you’ve had sex with someone before me, i’ll be pissed off,” he declared, his tone half-serious, half-teasing.

your eyes widened in mock shock, a playful grin spreading across your face. “sukuna!” you gasped, unable to suppress your laughter. “how could you even ask that?”

“what?” he replied, his voice smooth and mischievous. “just trying to gauge my competition here.”

you wriggled beneath him, your heart racing as his weight pressed gently against you. “there’s no competition! you’re the one i chose!”

“you better mean that,” he said, his expression turning momentarily serious, the playful glint in his eyes still dancing there. “because if you’ve got a whole list of guys i should be worried about —”

“i swear, it’s only ever been you,” you interrupted, your laughter subsiding as you looked into his eyes, the sincerity of your words hanging in the air between you. “i’m not even kidding.”

his lips curved into a smirk, a sense of triumph washing over him. “good. just remember that,” he said, leaning down, his breath warm against your skin. “you’re mine, and i’m not sharing.”

“not that i’d want to,” you murmured, your pulse quickening as his gaze bore into yours. the playful banter hung between you like a delicate thread, both of you enjoying the sweet tension that filled the air.

“smart choice,” he teased, and in a moment of spontaneity, he dipped his head to press a teasing kiss to your lips, his hands framing your face as he pulled back to gauge your reaction.

your cheeks flushed, the laughter from before transforming into something deeper, more intimate. “you’re such a dork,” you said, shaking your head at him, but there was no malice in your words — just affection.

“your dork,” he corrected, grinning. “and don’t forget it.”

sukuna shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you more intently. “you sure you want to continue on with this?” he asked, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine concern. “i don’t want to push you if you’re tired.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at his unexpected display of care. “is that really you, ryomen sukuna, asking if i’m okay?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “i never took you for the caring type.”

he scoffed, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “don’t get used to it, woman. it’s just common courtesy,” he replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. “besides, someone has to make sure you’re not passing out on me.”

you giggled, enjoying the banter as much as the moment itself. “common courtesy, huh? i didn’t realize you had such a soft spot.”

“soft spot?” he repeated, feigning offense as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “i’ll have you know that i’m a very tough guy.”

“sure you are,” you said with a playful roll of your eyes, leaning back against the pillows and crossing your arms. “but it’s nice to see this side of you. who knew you could be so… sweet?”

“don’t push it,” he warned, though the hint of a smile remained on his face, clearly enjoying the teasing. “you might just ruin my tough guy reputation.”

“oh, please,” you replied, grinning back at him. “you’ll always be the tough guy. this is just a little added bonus.”

“bonus, huh?” he mused, his expression shifting into something more serious for a moment. “well, just know that i can be tough when it counts. but for you? i can make an exception.”

your heart warmed at his words, a soft silence enveloping you both as you contemplated the depth behind them. sukuna’s gaze held yours, the playful edge now tinged with something deeper, and you could feel the shift in the air around you.

“so, what’s it gonna be?” he asked, breaking the silence with a hint of mischief. “are you ready to keep going, or do you need a nap?”

“i’m definitely ready,” you said, your voice steady and confident. “let’s see just how caring you can be, sukuna.”

he chuckled, his eyes glinting with that familiar spark. “challenge accepted.”

sukuna’s cocky facade didn’t quite match the awkwardness of his hands, the way his fingers grazed over your skin with hesitation, like he was trying to remember the motions. it was unlike him to be so uncertain, and the clumsiness in his movements had you biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“sukuna,” you teased softly, glancing up at him with a warm smile, “you don’t have to be so shy, you know.”

his brow furrowed in an attempt to stay composed, but the corner of his mouth twitched, betraying him. “shut up, woman,” he huffed, his voice gruff, “i know what i’m doing.” the confidence was there, but you could feel the subtle tremor in his touch. his grip was firm, yet careful — an odd mixture of control and restraint.

he wasn’t used to this. not with you. not with someone who mattered.

you felt a sense of tenderness for him in that moment, seeing him vulnerable like this. his tough exterior was crumbling, piece by piece. “you can touch me, you know,” you whispered, offering him the reassurance he didn’t ask for but clearly needed.

“‘m getting to it,” he practically barked, frustration lacing his voice as if he were trying to convince himself more than you. your giggle slipped out, and though it earned a glare from him, there was no real bite behind it. it was adorable — watching the all-powerful ryomen sukuna struggle with something so simple.

he fumbled with the fabric of your dress, clearly annoyed. “stupid dress gettin’ in the way,” he muttered, gripping it with one of his large hands, bunching it up to reveal your legs. the cool air hit your skin, and instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, a wave of self-consciousness creeping in.

the sound that left sukuna’s throat was a deep, low growl. “don’t hide yourself,” he ordered, his voice rough but lacking malice. he wasn’t used to this — having to make someone feel safe — but the sincerity in his words made you relax just a little.

“i know, but it’s still kinda weird —” you began, your voice soft.

“it’s only weird if you make it weird,” he grumbled, clearly fumbling for something reassuring to say, though the way he said it was anything but delicate. you could tell he was out of his element, but the effort was there, and that was enough to make your heart swell.

he paused, his gaze locking with yours for a long moment. there was something in his eyes, a softness that didn’t fit the man everyone else saw. “you sure you wanna do this?” sukuna’s voice was quieter this time, carrying a weight of concern that wasn’t typical of him.

“of course i want to!” you blurted out, a bit too fast, and his lips twitched into a grin before a low, genuine laugh bubbled up from his chest. it was rare to hear him laugh like that — so unguarded — and it made your heart skip a beat. your own embarrassment melted away, replaced by the warmth of the moment.

“then who am i to deny my wife what she wants?” he said, his tone light but filled with affection. the word “wife” rolled off his tongue with such ease, but the meaning behind it was still sinking in for both of you.

you grinned, shaking your head at his smugness. “you’ll never get tired of saying that, will you?”

“never,” sukuna replied without hesitation, his grin wide and proud as he unbuckled his belt and tossed his suit jacket aside, the movements more confident now. but there was still that tenderness in his actions — a stark contrast to his usual demeanor.

as he leaned in to kiss you, the rest of the world faded away. the moment was just for the two of you. despite the teasing, despite the clumsiness, there was a sense of reverence in the way sukuna touched you—a reverence that made you feel like you were the most important person in his world. this wasn’t just about passion or desire. it was about trust, about sharing something real.

and as he kissed you again, you realized that for all of his roughness, all of his pride, sukuna was holding you like you were his most precious possession. like you were the best decision he had ever made.

he pulled back, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “you’re the best bad decision i’ve ever made,” he murmured, the words almost too soft for someone like him. but they were raw, honest.

your chest fluttered, the weight of his admission settling in. with a soft laugh, you reached up, brushing a hand against his jaw. “well, if that’s the case, i guess i’m happy to be your worst one.”

he smirked, leaning into your touch. “yeah? good. ‘cause you’re stuck with me now, woman.”

and for once, you didn’t mind the idea of being stuck at all.

the two of you lay bare before each other, the air thick with anticipation. there was a vulnerability in the moment that hadn’t been there before, an unspoken trust that made your heart race.

“‘kuna,” you breathed out, voice soft but filled with a hint of playfulness, “help me take the veil off —"

“nah,” sukuna interrupted with a devilish grin, his sharp eyes raking over your body. “looks sexy,” he added, pulling you closer to him, his large hands pressing against your back, making the warmth of his skin meld into yours. you could feel the strength in his hold, but there was a gentleness there too, a reverence in how he handled you.

the contrast between his rough personality and the care he took with you was striking, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and cherished all at once. his fingers traced over your skin, teasing but careful, as if he was savoring every second.

“you ready?” sukuna asked, his voice low, a rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“born ready — oh shit, not ready!” you gasped out, voice shooting up in surprise at the sudden sensation between your legs, the shock of his intrusion making your body react instinctively as you scrambled to hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

his chuckle rumbled against your chest, though his brows furrowed in a mix of focus and concern. “shit, sorry,” he muttered, grunting softly as he forced himself to slow down, his voice laced with restraint. “just hold on, okay? it gets better.”

you nodded, your breath catching in your throat as the initial shock settled. “mm, o-okay,” you whined softly, trying to adjust, the tension in your body easing as you pressed your forehead against his. sukuna’s lips ghosted over your temple, his breath hot as he whispered a mixture of praise and reassurance.

“that’s it... you’re doin’ good,” he rasped, his voice gruff but tender, the way he spoke to you making your heart melt despite the intensity of the moment. his hands stayed steady on your hips, holding you close, grounding you. “just relax… i’ve got you.”

you breathed out shakily, your fingers clutching his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms. despite the rough exterior, despite the teasing, sukuna was holding you with care. his usual bravado faded as he focused entirely on you, the rhythm of his movements slow and deliberate, making sure you were with him every step of the way.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable in its tone, the way his eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort.

“yeah,” you whispered, feeling the sincerity in his concern. “yeah, i’m okay.”

his smirk returned, just a little softer this time. “good… ‘cause i’m not gonna stop now,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, sealing his words with a touch that was as possessive as it was tender.

“sukuna, slow down!” you squealed, the sudden intensity making your body jolt.

he let out a deep, rough laugh, voice strained, but dripping with cockiness. “can’t. fuckin’. slow. down,” he growled, each word punctuated with a particularly harsh movement that made you grip onto him tighter. it wasn’t enough to hurt, but enough to push you to your limit, sending shockwaves through your body.

“safe word is you slapping me,” sukuna panted out, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he thrust into you, the sensation overwhelming.

“slap you?” you echoed, trying to make sense of his words as you fought against the fogginess clouding your mind. your voice wavered between disbelief and amusement as you clung onto him for dear life, barely able to form coherent thoughts with how his body was taking over your senses.

he grunted in response, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you closer, hips moving with a reckless pace that made your breath hitch. “’m dead serious,” he groaned. “slap me on the face if you want me to stop.”

“that’s just gonna make you wanna go more!” you whined, your words slurring slightly as the pleasure built higher, threatening to send you over the edge.

his lips twisted into a grin, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “hm, touché,” he chuckled, the sound of his voice sending another wave of heat through you. his grin never faltered, even as he leaned down, pressing a rough kiss against your lips, muffling the moan that escaped you.

“guess we’ll just have to keep going,” sukuna teased, his breath ragged but full of challenge. the way his hands roamed your body, how he seemed to know exactly how far he could push you — it was intoxicating, overwhelming in the best way. and as you tangled your fingers in his hair, holding on, you knew there was no stopping now.

sukuna’s breath hitched as his movements became erratic, that cocky confidence of his faltering just a bit. “you know i really fuckin’ love you, right?” he panted out between rough breaths, his voice heavy with emotion, though still dripping with that signature arrogance.

“yeah, i can tell,” you gasped out breathlessly, an airy laugh escaping your lips despite the intensity of the moment. the way he had you pinned against him, completely overwhelmed by his strength and the rough tenderness in his movements, left no room for doubt. he had a way of making even the filthiest declarations sound almost sweet.

“good... just wanted to — fuck — m-make sure,” sukuna stammered, a crack in his usual composure as his voice grew rougher. his body was betraying him, the familiar hot pull of release starting to pool in his belly, and he was losing control quicker than he wanted to admit.

you could feel the change in him — the way his grip on you tightened, the way his breathing grew even more ragged, the urgency in every movement. “'kuna, are you —”

“let me focus!” sukuna cut you off with a strained grunt, his brows furrowing as he struggled to hold onto his composure. his hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer, burying himself deeper as his control slipped more and more. the desperation in his tone was almost endearing, in a very sukuna way — he was trying so hard to maintain that cocky, cool front, but the way he was clinging to you, the way his body trembled slightly, gave him away.

you couldn’t help but smirk through the haze of pleasure, your own body shaking as you ran your hands down his back, holding him just as tight. “need help focusing?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, still trying to catch your breath as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, groaning lowly in response.

“you think you're so funny,” he huffed against your skin, his breath warm and heavy, his teeth grazing lightly over your pulse as his pace quickened, losing himself in you. “gonna be even funnier when i’m done with you…”

his threat was empty, but the way he was holding onto you, the raw need and affection behind each ragged breath, each movement, made you feel like you were all he ever needed. the world outside faded, and it was just the two of you, tangled in each other, hearts pounding in sync.

sukuna’s voice came out in a strangled groan, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising as his control began to slip completely. “can i — oh fuck — inside?” his voice cracked, a rare show of vulnerability that made your heart race faster than it already was.

“y-yeah, just —” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders, “just do it quick, i don’t think i can — ah — hold on long.”

he grunted in response, his forehead pressed against yours as his eyes fluttered shut, trying so hard to keep it together, but failing miserably. “yeah, i know, i gotch — oh fuck, y/n…” he choked out, his entire body trembling as he felt you clench around him, pulling him deeper, and the way you were responding to him wasn’t helping his already fraying composure. “you’re not making this e-easier f’me,” he practically whimpered, his usual gruffness nowhere to be found now.

he was unraveling. completely.

“just let it happen, ‘kuna,” you whispered, breathless, the nickname rolling off your tongue in a way that sent shivers down his spine. and that was all it took. the sound of his name, the way you said it — so raw, so intimate — was the final straw.

“fuck — y/n,” he grunted, his voice breaking as his hips slammed into yours, his pace becoming erratic, desperate. he buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin as his body tensed, shaking against you. the heat of him, the way he was holding you like he was afraid to let go — it made everything feel overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering right there on the edge too.

“‘kuna —” you moaned, your own body shuddering, your nails dragging down his back as you reached your peak, and the way you cried out his name sent him spiraling.

“shit,” sukuna choked out one last time, his whole body jerking as he finally let go, spilling into you with a groan that was both relief and overwhelming intensity. his grip on you tightened, like you were his anchor, grounding him as he rode out his high, shuddering against you, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

for a moment, neither of you moved. just the sound of your heavy breathing filled the room, the only sign of life. sukuna was still holding you close, his face pressed into your neck, the sweat on his skin cooling as the adrenaline slowly ebbed away. his body was heavy on top of yours, but it felt comforting, reassuring, like he didn’t want to let you go.

“fuck…” he muttered, still panting, his voice hoarse, but there was something almost tender in it, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “you okay?”

you nodded weakly, a small, breathless laugh escaping your lips. “i’m more than okay, ‘kuna.” you squeezed his shoulders lightly, your hands tracing slow patterns on his skin, both of you still wrapped in the aftermath of the moment.

“best bad decision i ever made,” he muttered, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he kissed the side of your neck, his voice rough, but so warm now, so content.

“you’ll never get tired of saying that, will you?” you teased, echoing your earlier words, your heart swelling with affection as you held him close.

“never,” he grinned, his lips brushing yours in a slow, languid kiss, filled with everything he couldn’t quite put into words. “not when it’s true.”

“now, about that round two…” “sukuna!”

epilogue.

“so how’s —?” choso’s voice filters through the phone, casual but carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken thoughts.

“my wife? she’s good,” sukuna replies, a soft chuckle escaping as he glances at the photo wall in front of him, the space having blossomed with new memories. there’s the photo from your wedding, the two of you looking surprisingly at ease, captured in a rare, tender moment. next to it, the maternity shoot where you glowed with happiness, cradling your growing belly. and then the grainy image, snapped by yuuji, of you in the hospital ward holding your newborn. sukuna’s own figure, absent in the frame, was a choice — he had turned away, pretending to be too occupied with something else while tears pricked his eyes.

as his gaze moves across the wall, he finds himself smiling at the other photos: uraume, holding your child awkwardly, their expression uncharacteristically soft as your baby girl beamed at them. another picture shows suguru, his grimace exaggerated as your daughter gleefully yanked at his hair while riding on his shoulders, her tiny hands gripping his locks with innocent mischief. and there’s one of yuuji and choso, each kissing your daughter’s cheeks, her laugh caught perfectly mid-giggle. each photo, a snapshot of love, family, and time.

he still can’t believe he’s come this far, that he’s standing in front of a wall filled with memories of a family he never thought he’d have. it used to be a word that left a bitter taste in his mouth, something he rejected. but now? now it feels…right.

“you should get her over to our home sometime. it’s been a while since the two — i mean, three of you have come over,” choso’s voice echoes through the phone, pulling sukuna back to the moment.

sukuna chuckles softly at the slip. it’s still taking everyone, including his own brother, time to adjust to the idea that ryomen sukuna — the feared, ruthless business tycoon— is now a father. a father to a beautiful baby girl named aiko ryomen y/l/n. she looked so much like you, but that smirk — the one that mirrored his own — was unmistakable, even at just a year old. she had his fire, his intensity, but you tempered it with your warmth, creating a perfect balance that he never knew he needed.

“only when you get your girl,” sukuna teases, his voice lighter than it used to be.

“deal,” choso replies, amusement lacing his words.

“deal,” sukuna echoes, his smile lingering long after the call ends.

as he tucks his phone into his pocket, sukuna’s gaze moves across the wall of photos, his eyes fall on the most recent addition, one that stands out among the rest — a family photo taken just last month. it’s larger than the others, framed carefully and placed in the center of the collection.

in the photo, you’re holding aiko, who’s perched on your hip, her tiny hands gripping your arm with that signature smirk plastered across her chubby face. you’re smiling, your expression soft and warm, the love for your family evident in your eyes. standing beside you is sukuna, his arm resting casually on your shoulder, a slight smile on his face — barely noticeable, but it’s there, a glimpse of the man who hides his tenderness behind walls of cold arrogance.

beside him, uraume stands stiffly, as they always do, but there’s something softer in their expression, their usual rigid posture relaxed as they hold aiko’s hand gently. choso and yuuji stand next to them, both leaning in with matching wide smiles, yuuji making a peace sign with his fingers while choso, ever the protector, stands with a hand on yuuji’s shoulder. and then there’s suguru, who stands on the other side of you, his eyes crinkled with amusement as he looks down at aiko, who’s trying to reach for his hair — again.

it’s a chaotic picture, mismatched smiles and personalities blending together into something that feels almost surreal. a family — his family. the word rings in his mind as he stares at the photo, and for a moment, sukuna is overwhelmed. he never imagined this would be his life, that the ruthless, feared man he once was could stand among these people and feel…content. happy, even.

he used to think of himself as a lone wolf, someone who didn’t need or want anyone. but now, looking at this photo, he realizes how wrong he was. these people — each of them — have become a part of his world, his family, in ways he never thought possible.

his hand grazes the edge of the frame as he lets out a deep breath, his chest tightening with a mix of emotions he can barely name. gratitude, love, maybe even fear — fear of losing this, of somehow screwing it all up. but for once in his life, he pushes those thoughts away. he lets himself just be in this moment, soaking in the quiet joy that this family has brought him.

he doesn’t have to be perfect. he doesn’t have to have all the answers. he just has to be here — with you, with aiko, with everyone he cares about. and that, somehow, is enough.

turning away from the wall, sukuna leans against the window, staring out at the cityscape beyond. his heart, once so guarded, so hardened, feels lighter now, softer in a way he never thought possible.

it wasn’t easy to get here. there were fights, broken moments, regrets that lingered in the corners of his mind. but in the end, you stood by him. you saw past his flaws, his anger, his mistakes, and chose to love him anyway.

and he knows now — this is what life is about. it’s messy, chaotic, imperfect. but it’s real. and it’s his.

he turns back to the photo wall, his eyes lingering on the image of you and aiko, surrounded by the people who have become his family, and he smiles — a rare, genuine smile that only you have ever seen.

“all you need is a little bit of love in the mix,” he murmurs to himself, your words from years ago echoing in his mind.

and maybe, just maybe, that’s the truth he needed all along.

as the sun begins to set, casting a golden light across the room, sukuna stands there, feeling the weight of everything and nothing all at once. he has his family, his love, his life. and for the first time in a long, long time, he feels at peace.

fin.

while you're here, why not check out some fun facts about persephone that didn't make it to the final cut? ;D the "slap me" safe word with sukuna was inspired by @webism's kinktober post, make sure to check it out <3 produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune

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becausebuckley · 2 months ago

Text

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 39!

yay more fics! guys i have to tell you this was an excellent reading week for me, so many brilliant fics!

two things: some of these fics aren't buddie but gen/a rare pair, but i figured i'd keep the title, since it applies to the majority of fics. i'll make sure it's clear which fics are for other ships! also, now that season 8 is airing, i've decided to keep the buddie fic rec list spoiler-free, and i'm setting up a season 8 rec list alongside it. this week's season 8 list can be found here!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

5 times buck and eddie thought they were on the same page +1 where they figured it out | WendyDarling95/@bi-buck-hi-eddie | 11.8k | E

"Ok but miscommunication trope where Eddie keeps trying to tell Buck he’s a werewolf and Buck thinks Eddie’s telling him he’s a furry. Buck would buy a fur suit absolutely" i'm genuinely not joking when i say that this fic was the highlight of my week. it's crack treated seriously in the absolute best way, i was howling (lol) while reading. brilliant <3

the book of love | colonoscopys/@colonoscopys | 8.1k | G

It was a pretty regular day. He had an eight hour shift the day before, slept in a little bit, ate dry toast and drank a black coffee before dropping Chris off at physical therapy for an hour. If he had known he was gonna die, he would have sprung for the hashbrowns in the freezer. time loop fic!! lovely lovely time loop fic!!

but you're holdin' me like water in your hands | TheGirlWithTheKite/@muddiedfoxglove | 11k | E

In which Eddie offers a helping hand when Buck's relationship starts to sour. (The Frogboiled Infideleddie Fic) frogboiled infideleddie?? yall the way i ran to this fic the second i saw it <3 so so so good

constant craving | Inell/@inell | 7.8k | E

Buck and Eddie have recently started dating, and it’s their third official date. While playing a game of pool, they make a little wager, and Buck gets to indulge a craving he’s had for years. i spent a lovely hour this morning catching up inell's recent fics and i highly recommend you do the same!! brilliant fics, both of the sweet and spicy variety <3

FREE MOUSTACHE RIDES | Killbothtwins | 5k | T

All is not well in Station 118. Gerrard is running the show, Christopher is gone, and, worst of all, Eddie has a mustache now. Somehow, it's only Buck who realizes how catastrophic this is. this is exactly the fic i needed to cheer me up earlier this week. so good, so funny!!

keep your brittle heart warm | Ink_Dancer | 8.8k | T

Buck convinces Eddie, notoriously a dog person, to adopt a cat. Buck then helps Eddie adjust to his new family member while the cat tries to meddle in their relationship. fics like this make me want to adopt a cat even more than i already do. so sweet, so cute, i love pinto bean <3

a little wisdom | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 8.6k | T

Christopher comes home from Texas and needs his wisdom teeth removed, which leads to a larger discussion on hurt and comfort and needs that Eddie doesn't see coming. the diaz boys <3 i love them so much and they're so so well-written here!!

the more it hurts, the less it shows | ummrys/@ummrys | 2.4k | M

Eddie finally hears the story of Dr Wells, and Buck finally understands the depth of what happened to him. so well-written and a great look at the whole dr wells thing!!

nothin' but a little shut eye | Tizniz/@tizniz | 3.9k | G

Buck and Eddie accidentally nap together. And then keep napping together. buddie naps i love you so much <3 this is the softest cutest it's so good

put my heart inside your palms | markofalover/@markofalover| 3.1k | T

how an accidental pet name, a thoughtful dinner, and a shared shirt makes them get their shit together.. love is stored in the kitchen indeed <3 this is so so cute!

suddenly the only thing i saw was you | ipretendtobesane/@userbuddie | 8.2k | E

five times adriana diaz and may grant run into each other and the one time they show up together adriana/may?? the VISION holy shit. this is a brilliant fic and has probably my fav adriana diaz ever, it's just that good <3

#yall this one was hard i read so many good fics this week #i want to rec everything!!#buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 fic #911 fic rec #michelle’s recs #fic rec list

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request "Please tell me you have a plan" in Hic Sunt Dracones verse pretty please ? <3

You certainly can! This is something I've been wanting to write for a while: a little bonus scene from Eddie’s pov, some time before the spring festival.

Come what may

Rated: T

Words: 998

Tags: Fantasy AU; Dragon Eddie; Prince Steve; Platonic Stobin; Hurt/Comfort; Mates; Soul Bond; That dragon is down bad

Notes: Bonus scene to Hic sunt dracones

Fate has a funny sense of humor.

You spend your entire life thinking that you don’t care for small things. Delicate things like dewdrops glistening in the morning light. Pretty things like smooth skin and chestnut hair, glowing gold in the sun. Soft things like the silky touch of flower petals. And then, one day, your world comes crashing down in a cloud of splintered wood and shattered stone and blood and pain, so much fucking pain- … only to reshape itself into something new, with the prettiest, softest, most delicate creature you’ve ever laid eyes on at its centre.

He never thought such a thing was possible. Then again, he only ever heard vague stories about what it felt like, finding your mate.

“Sweetheart? Everything alright?”

He never thought of himself as sweet, but here he is. He would be anything for this boy.

“There you are,” his beloved smiles when he turns his attention back on him, and pats the fresh bandage at the base of his tail with gentle hands - always so gentle. “Had me worried for a moment there. Thought I'd hurt you.”

“As if you'd ever hurt me, my love,” he wants to say, but all that'll leave his throat is a low, amused rumble. He goes for nudging his snout into his little mate's chest instead, and the boy yelps and nearly topples over.

He has never missed his other form before, content to stay this way for days and weeks on end, but now he finds himself longing for hands to return the boy’s touch, for lips to shower him in kisses, to press sweet words and playful bites into that soft skin.

“Hey, careful, you big brute,” his beloved scolds, but his smile is bright and happy, his voice brimming with pride. “You're getting stronger every day.”

“Uh-huh. Fantastic,” says another voice, and they both whip around. Oh yes, that's right, his prince brought his little friend today. She's perched on a rock a little way off and watching them with an unhappy quirk to her mouth. “What are you gonna do once he's back to full health? Have you thought of that at all?”

That smile dims. He bares his fangs at the girl and snarls, but his prince puts a hand to his snout and he quietens reluctantly. The girl sighs.

“Listen, you know I'm on your side, but you can't hide a fully grown dragon forever. Just- … Please tell me you have a plan?”

His mate sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Steve?”

“Not much to plan, is there?” The words come out clipped, all fake resolution. “He recovers, and then he leaves.”

The girl takes one look at his mate's face and her expression softens. “Listen, dingus, I know you two have gotten … attached. I wish there was another way-”

“-but there isn't,” his prince interrupts, suddenly intensely focused on searching for something in his bag of medical supplies. “I know that, you don't have to remind me. Now, don't you have somewhere else to be?”

She doesn't look insulted at being dismissed like that. In fact, the only thing swimming in her eyes as she stands is sympathy.

“Take care,” she mutters, patting his mate's shoulder. He doesn’t look up. “You too, big guy.”

He waits until her footsteps die down, and then he nudges his mate's shoulder with his tail, whining softly under his breath.

You don't seriously think I'd ever leave you, do you, my little love?

His prince finally drops the bag, sitting down in the grass and curling up against his side, soft and small and warm.

“Yeah, I'm alright. Don't worry about me.”

He grumbles in annoyance, once again wishing for a set of human lips. His little mate still misunderstands him, sometimes. He has no doubt that this will change in time, once their bond grows stronger. Here and now, though, there's no comforting words he can offer, and the thought fills him with helpless rage.

There's a patch of wildflowers growing just next to their spot, bright and colorful and pretty. Following a sudden impulse, he snaps them off with his teeth. He needs to be careful with them, because they're so tiny and delicate, but he's starting to learn more and more about delicate things.

“I'm pathetic, huh?” his prince mutters, pressing his face into his side, fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern of scales there. “I mean, I know you can't stay forever, it's just … I wish you could. It's stupid, I- ugh, what are you doing?”

His little love yelps as he drops the flowers on his head, reflexively trying to brush them off. Then, he realizes what they are and pauses. His pretty eyes are large as he looks up.

“Sweetheart? Are those for me?”

He rumbles his confirmation, basking in the picture that is his mate. Flowers in his lap, on his shoulders, in his hair. They suit him so well. He's going to crown him in flowers one day, whole wreaths of them so he'll never need to wear the ugly, heavy things made of metal and gemstones that humans insist on putting on their kings.

His prince smiles, warm and bright like the rising sun, and he purrs in reply, leaning their foreheads together. He cannot convey his love in words yet, but he can show it with touch. He cannot return those caresses and kisses yet, but he will. He'll return them a thousandfold, once he's strong enough to shift again, and he won't ever stop, for as long as they both live. He belongs to this boy, just like this boy is his. His beloved may not fully understand it yet, but he does. Their very souls started to entwine on the day they met - a bond that will only grow stronger for as long as they both live.

They won't ever part, come what may.

And when they leave this place, it will be together.

More celebration ficlets

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hype's 1k follower ficlets #hic sunt dracones

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cripplecharacters · 5 months ago

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Hello. I am writing a character with intellectual disability, and I have found your posts about that really helpful. Thank you for taking the time to make them.

I am trying to do research and write him well, and I was hoping you could give me some advice on how to do that. My problem is that I would like to describe the way he speaks and the sound of his voice, but I'm not sure how to do that respectfully.

What I would like to describe is the way he takes a little longer to complete his sentences, needs more time than others do to plan what he's going to say, and pronounces some sounds a bit differently because of motor skills issues. I want to honor his unique voice and also help readers understand that he is noticeably disabled.

Are there any words or terms that would be really good/preferred to describe this sort of thing? And, on the other side, is there anything stereotypical or hurtful that should be avoided?

Thank you!

Hi!

I recommend our guide on writing speech disabilities!

In-dialogue, you can try showing him taking a break mid-sentence or using a lot of filler words/sounds to show that he's taking his time. You can spell them out in his speech, but I wouldn't overuse it - you can put more of them at the start, but later your readers will remember that that's how he talks, and occasional reminders should be enough.

It's important to remember that 1) ableists often mock the things I just mentioned, and 2) they're nonetheless real and real life people (me) talk with those patterns. I'd urge you to show them as just how he talks, not something that's inherently "annoying" or "child-like". Stray away from any sorts of infantilizing comparisons in general (that is, if he's not an actual child).

For him taking longer to plan what he is going to say, that's very real lol. How it shows (or doesn't show) will be very personal, I specifically tend to look up + fidget with my hands and people who know me can recognize that it means I'm trying to say something but need a moment (though strangers also often get it). But he can show it completely differently of course.

I don't think there's a consensus on what's the best way of "spelling out" someone's speech disability. My personal preference is leaving it out of the actual speech, but making it clear in the dialogue tags. It's also easier for readers who might have reading disabilities or not be native speakers of the language you write in. So you could make it clear there whether it's that he's slurring words, has a lisp, or stutters.

For terms, a lot of the accurate ones have also been used to mock how we talk. "Slow" would be the best example, "loud" would be there as well. A lot of us will talk slow, a lot will talk very loudly. I do the latter, and I know people who do both or neither. The key is to say it in a way that's neutral and not pass it off as some funny quirk or an outright gag. It's just a speech characteristic, the same way that someone could have a lower pitched voice, or speak very softly.

You can also show him struggling to follow the flow of the conversation. So sometimes it could be that he just loses the main topic and just asks what the discussion has been about (I do that all the time), or continues going on the subject that the other character(s) already moved on from.

Thanks for the ask and being thoughtful about it! I hope this helps

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #intellectual disability representation #speech disability representation

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kaciidubs · 1 year ago

Text

A Pun-y Thanksgiving

❣ Summary: A random thought about Chan and terrible Thanksgiving puns. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 739 ❣ Warnings: Fluff, corny puns [2], slice of life, discussions of family, implied Black! Reader [but neutral overall], Chan gets emotional over being loved ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Christopher, Channie, and Baby, lightly edited, that plate of food was not mine but it's close enough ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

"I'll give you more than thanks tonight."

"Baby, please."

"A turkey isn't the only thing I'd like to stuff."

"Christopher, walk away from me."

"What?! You can't tell me that wasn't funny!"

"I can," you hummed, looking over your shoulder to see him leaning against the kitchen island with a cheesy grin, "and I will - that was not funny!"

"So why are you smiling?" He goaded, dimple pressing into his cheek as his grin grew.

An astonished laugh fell from your lips, though you couldn't reign in the smile that stuck to your face, "Because you're corny!"

"Or, because you did find it funny!"

"Oh my god." Turning back to the pot of boiling elbow noodles, you stirred away some of the foam, "You're gonna drive me insane before my own family does."

A pair of arms snaked their way around your waist, Chris tugging you slightly against his chest as he pressed the side of his face against yours. "You know you love me."

"I do, but if you say anything related to 'gravy', I'm leaving you here and telling my grandmother you couldn't make it to dinner."

He dramatically gasped, shaking his body with yours, "You wouldn't! I think I'll actually die without her yams this year, and Christmas is way too far away to have them again!"

You laughed, turning off the stove and grabbing the oven mitts that were on standby, "You're so whipped for her cooking - I'm surprised you haven't figured out she makes extra just for you."

"She does?" His hold on you slipped as you picked up the pot of macaroni, stepping back to let you pour it into the strainer waiting in the sink. "Since when?"

"Our second Thanksgiving together when I had to make a to-go container full of them alone, and she asked if I was making you a plate and I had to tell her that, that was your plate." You placed the empty pot back on the stove, "And I still think it's unfair because I'm her grandchild! I asked her so many times to make me a separate batch, I'd even buy her the stuff! But no, she wouldn't do it for me but anything goes for her grandson Chris!"

In the midst of your teasing rant, you hadn't noticed the silence from your boyfriend behind you until you had started the sauce mixture for the macaroni and cheese, urging you to turn around to look at him suspiciously.

"Chris?"

He gazed at you with soft eyes, an almost delicate pout set on his lips as a fine blush turned his ears red. "She likes me that much?"

Family had always been a huge factor for him, and the desire of having your entire family love him the way they loved you was something he had strived for since the first time they met. So, it was no surprise that hearing that your grandmother would go out of her way for him and his admiration for her cooking made his heart swell.

"Aw, Channie," you cooed, turning the stove to low before making quick steps over to him, your hands cupping his slightly puffed cheeks from rest. "She absolutely loves you - my whole family does! My aunts ask about you whenever they call, my younger cousins always ask to see you, and even though my uncles joke about putting you in a shallow ditch if you break my heart - they can see how much you care about me and they honestly look forward to having you around."

Guiding his head down, you placed a quick kiss on his lips, giggling when he followed you away to steal another.

"My family loves you, my extended family loves you, and you already know I love you."

His pout melted into a smile, one you embarrassingly missed for the few moments it was gone, "Even with my corny jokes?"

You rolled your eyes but nodded in agreement, "Even with your corny jokes. Now, help me finish the mac and cheese and we can start getting ready - I'm sure if we stay here longer we're gonna be the last ones to get a plate, and I'll be damned if I let my cousin get to the corn pudding first."

Slinking your way our of his arms, you took to stirring the sauce mixture before speaking over your shoulder;

"Then when we get home, I'll show you what else I'm thankful for."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #bangchan x reader #bang chan x reader

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dotster001 · 2 years ago

Note

I would very much like a gn version of the type of person they woukd like pretty please!

What Kind of Person they Like

Summary: gn! reader. What kind of person they say they want versus the one they end up with

CW: some of the boys are assholes with their answers, it's explained away in the who they end up with section, so take it with a grain of salt, also these are just my opinions. If you don't agree that's ok! Also, if you read the Fem/masc versions some of this is different but some of it is the same. Sorry if you were hoping your fave would have a different opinion.

A/n: putting the tag list in here as well in case some of you are gn. If you're Fem or masc! My bad guys! Also now that I finished the trilogy I'm so done 😭 formatting on this app takes so fucking long

Masc Version Fem Version

Heartslaybul

Ace Trappola

What he says

"hmm, a great bod and an ass you can't resist the urge to smack. Why are you giving me that look? Sevens, fine! Okay they're kind and have an ass that- hey don't throw stuff at me!"

Who he ends up with

Ace is going to be naturally attracted to a person that holds him accountable. He's also looking for someone who he can tease at all hours of the day. He wants someone he can have fun with, but who will also give him the cold hard facts. But they also take care of him when he's down. He's hiding a lot of insecurity under his cool guy exterior, so if they lets him snuggle, and let him whine, and then whisper how much they love him, he'll be a happy man. And he's really big on them not knowing anything about basketball. He's a fucking show off.

Deuce Spade

What he says

"Huh, I've never really thought about it. Um, I guess they're nice and funny, and aren't scared of my past. I'd also want them to be a little like you, Y/N….not that I like you! Well, I like you, not like like you, shit I'm sorry! This isn't sounding any better…"

Who he ends up with

He really means it when he says he wants someone like you. You're one of his first friends, and, in his mind, the person you date/marry should be your best friend. But if it's not you he ends up with, he will probably be attracted to someone who's book smart, but less street smart. A little "dumb" like him, in a cute kind of way. He likes a cuddler, and maybe someone who is shorter than him so that he can feel like he's swallowing them whole when he wraps his arms around them. Also, someone who encourages him and helps him with his homework/paperwork.

Riddle Rosehearts

What he says

"I don't have time for a relationship right now….but I think I want someone well behaved who follows the rules- what are you smirking at? Just because you're a rule breaker doesn't mean everyone is. And maybe someone smart. No, definitely someone smart."

Who he ends up with

As much as he hates to admit it…he's attracted to rule breakers. Not as bad as Ace obviously, he's not trying to go gray early. But if they say something like "let's have a non herbal tea" when it's time for only herbal tea…damn what a rush. By the time he gets serious with someone, he'll be confident enough in himself to cut ties with his mother, so they have to be strong willed, and willing to live off of a low budget for a while. He'll need someone understanding, who knows he'll have relapses and be too much and too angry sometimes, and they have to be understanding of that, and encouraging of improvement, or he'll live with guilt for the rest of his life.

Trey Clover

What he says

"Someone who's willing to settle down and grow fat and old with me. You're laughing, but I'm going to be running my parents bakery, and feeding people is my love language. Speaking of, you better finish off that slice of cake before the others steal it."

Who he ends up with

Trey isn't that picky. He really means it when he says he wants someone to get old and fat with. That's his dream. Running a bakery with his spouse by his side, and growing old together as your own kids grow up and bring home their own spouses. But he also wants someone he can blindside with his sadistic side. Someone who'll enjoy that side of him, but also someone who easily forgets it's there. It makes things more fun for him.

Cater Diamond

What he says

"Ha ha someone trendy and totes hot. Someone totally cammable. Aw, are you jealous? Don't worry, you'll always be my fave, even if you're not my otp."

Who he ends up with

Cater wants someone who won't disappear when he looks away. Yes, if they're "cammable" that's the first thing he's looking for, but when all is said and done, if they seem like they're going to be flaky, he won't take it too seriously either, as a defense mechanism. He needs a person with mental endurance, because he's going to spend the beginning of the relationship trying to scare them off. Not that he wants to, he just needs to know he won't be left alone like he usually is. He is going to be attracted to someone who humors his trends and magicam addiction, but who also sees through him. Someone balanced. They see the real Cay Cay, but they're also willing to be his "trophy spouse" online.

Savannaclaw

Jack Howl

What he says

"Oh, I uh, well someone who can keep up on a run with me I guess…"

Who he ends up with

Jack says he wants someone who can work out with him. And he would really be happy if he had a partner who was as active as him…but he'd also be happy with a soft squishy partner. He gets blushy thinking about holding someone soft and plush against his firm muscles. But he's flexible. In the end he won't choose his future spouse based on appearances. Wolf beastmen mate for life, so the main thing he is looking for is loyalty. Loyalty, and someone who would want to raise lots of kids with him. As long as you have those two traits, nothing else really matters to him.

Ruggie Bucchi

What he says

"Relationships are expensive, shihihi. Tell you what, you find me someone with sticky fingers, and we'll eat the rich together."

Who he ends up with

This is a deflection.If you're asking about a specific gender, Ruggie has two drastically different responses, mostly due to the large and in charge hyena women. But if you take that aspect away, deep down he longs for someone who he can settle down with, who will call him a good boy and pamper him (whether he is the breadwinner or they are), and who he can just live a happy life, slowly rising up to middle class, with. He also is looking for someone to snuggle the night away with. He gets lonely at night.

Leona Kingscholar

What he says

"Body pillow"

"That's not-"

"Body pillow"

Who he ends up with

Like Hyena's, lion women are the boss. So take the gender aspect away, and what he's searching for is someone who will make him feel loved. Whether it's through shouting and dragging him to therapy or soft caresses and whispered praise, he doesn't mind. He wants to feel loved and first in someone's life. He doesn't care how it happens. He's a surprisingly flexible guy.

Also, they have to accept that nighttime is when they're a body pillow. That's an absolute must.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

What he says

"Why do you wish to know? Are you attempting to reach my standards? Ha ha, let's see. Someone who is mysterious, who is willing to dress stunningly, and sit in my lap when I make deals, so that competitors can see what a high value man I am."

Who he ends up with

If that didn't make you want to throw up 🤢. He'll be attracted to someone who makes him feel beautiful in subtle ways. He knows how easy it is to spin a verbal web of lies. But there's some things you can't fake. Like allowing someone to rest on your lap, and caressing their hair. Or squeezing someone's hand gently when you have to let go. Or pressing a kiss to someone's cheek after you help them straighten their outfit. It's the soft romantic moments that'll speak to Azul when he finds his love. Aside from that, he's not looking for anything in particular. Just someone who makes him feel loved and beautiful.

Jade Leech

What he says

"Fu fu who's to say? Perhaps you are the lover of my dreams. Or not."

Who he ends up with

They're someone who can see through him. Someone who never compares him or confuses him for his twin. They're smart. Very smart. They eat his mushrooms and go on hikes with him. They are patient with Floyd. What Jade is looking for….is Jade. Someone like that is the only one who can truly keep up with him.

Floyd Leech

What he says

"Aw Shrimpy! Are you worried? Don't worry, whoever they are, I'll still squeeze ya!"

Who he ends up with

He's looking for someone fun. That's his only criteria. At least that's what he says. He can't be sure if he loves them because they're fun, or if they're fun because he loves them. In that sense, it's sort of a soulmate situation for Floyd. Whatever will be will be. He'll just know.

…

Also they have to be squeezable.

Scarabia

Kalim al Asim

What he says

"I love everybody!"

"But-"

"Have some of this ice cream, it's amazing!"

Who he ends up with

He wants someone he can spoil, but he doesn't know that. It's something in his subconscious. He doesn't want things back either. So they have to be someone who is okay with being spoiled, and doesn't feel guilty about it. He's going to be attracted to someone who loves life like him, but also helps to keep him grounded. And if they have a spark of danger in them, oh man, he'll be simping so hard.

Jamil Viper

What he says

"I'm not going to even think about it until my freedom is assured. Kalim has promised, but it would be irresponsible to force someone into servitude with me."

Who he ends up with

Jamil will fall for someone who truly appreciates him. Someone who will offer him help with his work (it doesn't matter if it's good help or not, he appreciates it either way). Someone who will pamper him. Someone who gets excited about the prospect of dropping everything and seeing the world with him. Someone who will be his partner, but who will also be willing to take turns ruling the house, so that they both can pretend to be the royal who is getting served from time to time.

Pomefiore

Epel Felmier

What he says

"Um, someone buff who knows I wear the pants in the relationship. Don't laugh, I like the idea of being surrounded in a hug of muscles! Stop laughing!"

Who he ends up with

Epel wants someone he can provide for, who he never has to prove his masculinity to. Someone who supports his ambitions, and believes in him. Someone who he doesn't have to change for. And if they want to be a cutesie house spouse for him…he won't complain.

Rook Hunt

What he says

"Mon Trickster, I can find beauty in everyone."

Who he ends up with

What he says is actually true. He can and will fall in love with every kind of person. It's hard to say who he will tie himself to, in the end. It'll be someone who he heavily bonds with and imprints on. It's a lot like with Floyd. Essentially a soulmate situation.

Vil Schoenheit

What he says

"Hm. Why do you want to know, potato? I suppose they're professional, and beautiful, and care about their image enough that they don't cause a scandal."

Who he ends up with

The thing about Vil is, he's not that far off from Rook in his take on beauty. He doesn't so much believe in conventional beauty, or societal beauty standards. He knows everyone has an individual definition of health and beauty. When he says he's looking for a beautiful person, he's looking for someone who's willing to reach their full potential. Or, more accurately, to allow him to help them reach they're full potential. Vil never admits it, but he adores pampering and styling people. His love language is helping people look their best. So if they're someone who knows themself enough to know what style they like, he'll appreciate it, and take up the mantle of doing the hard work, ie making outfits, styling hair and makeup, formulating skin care etc. TLDR, he wants a confident self possessed lover he can dress like a doll, and show off.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

What he says

"-------------" mutes ipad.

In his head, he doesn't think any man would ever love him. But his dream lover is a sexy anime cat person.

Who he ends up with

What he'll be attracted to is someone who is patient, speaks at a reasonable volume, and is assertive enough to make him leave his room. Essentially, winning Idia's heart is a siege. You'll have to starve him out. That's the patience bit. The reasonable volume comes from him being easily scared by loud noises. Assertive enough to make him leave his room…well that speaks for itself. He wants to believe he can be part of the outside world, and the one he will fall for will be willing to show it to him.

Diasomnia

Sebek Zigvolt

What he says

"They are someone of noble bearing, who shall help me defend my liege!"

Who he ends up with

He'll fall for a someone who is stronger, mentally, physically, etc., than him. A person who can put him in his place. A lover who speaks, and it makes him shut up, and sit pretty. They're assertive, and can come off as abrasive to others but to Sebek? Sevens, he'd die for a smidgen of their affection.

Silver

What he says

"I don't think it's worth it to try and define the one I'll fall in love with. There are so many wonderful people, and my father always told me that love is the greatest mystery in this world. Who's to say who I'll fall in love with?"

Who he ends up with

Silver will fall for someone soft. The entire romance will be soft. Soft caresses in the moonlight. Soft kisses in the morning. Soft fingers gently intertwining. They'll be empathetic about his sleep condition, never blaming him since it's not his fault. They'll be gentle with his animal friends. But they'll also be strong in some ways. They'll be someone who will fight the metaphorical (or literal, Silver lives an interesting life) dragon for their sleeping Prince Silver. They'll be sweet and kind. Like a hybrid of Prince Philip and Princess Aurora.

Lilia Vanrouge

What he says

"Fu Fu Fu wouldn't you like to know."

Who he ends up with

Lilia can and has fallen for every kind of person. He's lived a long time. He's had the time to romance lots of lovers. What he'd probably fall for in this stage of his life, is someone he can tease, and play around with, but who is also ready to settle down a little bit. Someone who enjoys the little things in life. He's getting a little old. He wants to build onto his family that he already has. Silver can stand to have three or ten more siblings, right?

Malleus Draconia

What he says

"You."

Who he ends up with

You.

....

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