#in that case thank you for the sticker. *sly wink*

[nad-zeta]

Mitsuhide- The Blind Date

Fandom: Ikesen

Pairings: Mitsuhide x Reader

Genre: Modern Au

Warning: Alcohol

Words: 1800+

Comments: Eeeeep, guess what time it is???? Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤❤😳🥺🥺😳❤🌈 This week gonna be funnnnn!

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ

How in the high heavens did Mitsuhide allow this to happen. Had he truly lost his mind—gone entirely insane— or perhaps he had been drugged, yes, for there was no other logical explanation as to why on earth he would humour his friends so.

Sitting on the high stool at the bar, he checked his phone, 8:53— he would give her seven more minutes and then he was going to yeet out— that way, at least he could tell the other that he ‘tried’. After all, that was all he promised his friends— that he would show up—nothing more, nothing less.

Tracing his finger along the rim of the whiskey glass, Mitsuhide contemplated the events that transpired leading to this rather unfortunate present day.

All his friends were either dating or married—tragic really—and for some or other reason, they felt the need to pry into his personal life. “Don’t you want to share your life with someone,” the mother of the group started, which inevitably only caused the rest of the group to latch onto the idea and turn the once serious board meeting into a game of matchmaking. It certainly didn’t help that he agreed to a blind date willingly— well semi willingly, anything to get them off his back— adding a condition of his own, that the mouse would have to agree to it from her side without intervention from theirs.

He was confident she would refuse, from the words of friends, she certainly sounded like someone of likewise thinking— a fellow workaholic with no time for dating. But she — to his great surprise— accepted.

It made no sense to him. What made even less sense was why his friends thought the two would click, as personalities and hobbies certainly didn't seem to gell well— at least not in his mind.

Not that any of that mattered as time was ticking away, and she had one more minute to show up before he would call it a night.

A myriad of texts illuminated his phone, and Mitsuhide could only release a dejected sigh from the latest of messages plaguing the group chat. “Be nice and behave yourself,” the mother hen had said.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” came the instigation from Masamune, followed by an array of winking faces and smirk emojis. Now you can only imagine the chaos that unleashed upon the group chat with each member laying their own little egg and nugget of wisdom.

“M-Mitsu?” a soft unsure voice spoke up from beside him, tapping him gently on the shoulder.

Switching his phone off, he plastered a snek-like smile across his features before turning his sharp eyes onto the unfortunate little victim of his company.

“My, you must be the little mouse I’ve heard so much about," came the sly words from his mouth as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him.

With a slight smile shot his way, you took up residence on the tall barstool, “In the flesh,” came your cheeky voice as you shrugged off your jacket and placed both elbows on the table to rest your chin upon your hands.

“And you must be the detective?” you quipped back.

Mitsuhide smiled at that, eyes taking on a mischievous glint as he leaned in closer to drop his voice to a dangerous whisper, “of sorts,” he quickly looked behind him — to add to the suspicion— before returning his attention to you, “and you, my dear, have unfortunately been set up and caught in the foxes trap.”

He kept your gaze in all seriousness.

He was sure you had heard the rumours of his interrogation methods, being no secret at all in the little town you occupied, people, unfortunately, liked to gossip — and whether the rumours of his wicked ways of getting information out of suspects had been spread intentionally or not, people tend to move with caution around him. It was, unfortunately, the nature of his job, and as such, led him down this long lonely road.

You narrowed your eyes at the man, silence befalling the pair of you as you held his gaze before responding in an equally intimidating voice, “have you now, or is it you who has been caught in my trap.”

After another pause, you threw your head back in a burst of laughter without a care in the world. 'He seems fun,' you thought, shooting a wink in the direction of the bartender in thanks for the whiskey on the rocks. You picked up the crystal glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a long sip. It had been a long day, so much so that you almost wanted to stand the poor man up, yet you came anyway, if only for a stiff drink to ease the tension of the day.

“So, Mr fox detective, sir, what’s wrong with you that your friends felt the need to set you up on a blind date, and with me of all people! Do they hate you or something?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

In the dimly lit bar, you gave Mitsuhide a quick once over— he was handsome, in a dangerous, mysterious kind of way. He reminded you of a creature of myths— a kitsune— with his white hair and golden eyes accompanied by that razor-sharp smile. Perhaps that is why the rumours surrounding him were all so believable to the simpletons of the town who had nothing better to do than gossip— cause heaven forbid they do actual work for a change. Relatively speaking, you had not paid the gossip much mind. Instead, you were in the business of judging a book for yourself and not by what others rated it as.

“I could ask the same of you, little one?” he returned the question back to you, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, to put it simply, my friends don’t know the difference between being alone and being lonely,” you said with a sigh, taking another sip of the drink in front of you.

Mitsuhide nodded in response, long fingers tracing over his glass thoughtfully with a hum of acknowledgement as you continued. “I knew if I refused to come tonight, they would just pester me until I agreed, so, in the name of some peace and quiet, here I am,” you ended off with a laugh and shake of the head.

Perhaps that was not entirely true; sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to find love— to have company to attend the various friend’s weddings with— after all, you were forever the bridesmaid and never the bride.

On the other hand, he knew the struggles of meddling friends all too well, and of course, the endless headache that accompanied the refusal of their ‘help’. He lifted his glass towards you, features softening as eyes crinkled at the seams in a semi genuine smile, “to meddlesome friends.”

You smiled brightly at that, clinking your glass with his as a comfortable silence befell the two of you—it looks like you had more in common than just your workaholic ways.

After a couple of minutes had passed, both your phones lit up at the same time, with an array of nosy friends asking about the ongoing date. And the two of you couldn’t help but burst into laughter and shake your heads in unison, “Unbelievable,” you spoke, taking another sip, an idea forming in your head to get them off your case for a little while longer.

Mitsuhide raised a curious brow at you as you silently lifted your phone, scrolling between the apps before landing on the camera. You shot him a mischievous smile before throwing your arm around his shoulder to pull him closer to you, “What do you think they would say if we sent a selfie,” you said, looking into the camera smiling brightly as finger spammed the little circle capturing a dozen or so photos before Mitsuhide even had time to rebuff. You never did mind creating a bit of chaos, and what better way to do so than, god forbid, you actually hit it off with the man.

“I wonder,” was all he said with a sly smile, and to your surprise, Mitsuhide actually smiled in a handful of the ones captured.

You quickly edited the picture, posting it onto the group with a cheeky caption; however, before locking your phone once more, something in the image caught your attention—a little sticker on Mitsuhide’s trench coat lapel. Your brows furrowed as you zoomed in to inspect it before they lifted to the man beside you, to see it in person. With a curious smile and finger pointed out to the little fox sticker, you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with the little fox?”

“It’s a long story, my dear,” he said with an air of mystery, but you persisted, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Well, I have time,” the words fell from your mouth, followed by another round of drinks ordered.

“You truly wish to know, little one?” he replied with glowing eyes. And that was the beginning of the end.

The origin story of the fox sticker led to another, that, then led to another and then another. Until a fun game started between the two of you— a story for a story— each new tale accompanied by a new round of drinks ordered.

It was now your turn to tell yet another exciting story, this time about your childhood of all things, however, time had quickly slipped away, and before you knew it, your eyelids started to grow heavy with sleep, words coming out slower and slower until finally your head fell and landed on Mistuhised shoulder.

“My, my little one, you should not let your guard down so easily with a man like me,” the tender words were spoken; it was one of those rare occasions Mitsihide dropped his foxlike mask and wore a genuine smile.

He looked over to see you sound asleep, and it seemed that his fingers moved to their own accord, reaching up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingertips. After a moment or two, he shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm and protected from the cold night’s chill.

“Come along, little mouse; I believe it is time for sleepy mice to go to bed.”

He then proceeded to gently hook his arm around your legs and waist, picking you up bridal style and cradling you to his chest.

“You truly are a troublesome little one, whatever shall I do with you,” he spoke fondly as he carefully loaded you into the passenger seat of his car before securing the seatbelt around you, while you, completely unstirred, remained fast asleep.

You awoke the next day in your own bed, splitting headache nagging at your temples as unfocused gaze locked onto a glass of water and aspirin left by your bedside. Sitting up, you wasted no time taking the hangover cure, memories of the previous night flooding your head.

“Shit shit shit shit,” you curse under your breath, throwing yourself back and covering your head with a pillow— how very uncool of you to just pass out in front of a stranger like that, never mind how unsafe.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table beside you, cutting your groans of embarrassment and cringe short, replacing it instead with a broad smile upon reading the text from your mysterious date.

[ryoskuna]

⭑ teacher’s pet | prelude (reader-insert version)

pairing: sukuna x fem!reader/original character, platonic!yuji x reader.

genre: older itadori brother/tattoo artist!sukuna au. baby/kindergartener! yuji.  parenting!au, some domestic fluff (later on), other things will be added as they come up.

warnings:  possible grammar errors, drama, mentions of insecurity, mentions of death (via yuji, and extension, sukuna’s grandfather), tattoos, mentions of food, mentions of abandonment, motorcycles, parenting, additional stuff will be tagged as it comes up, sukuna’s sometimes a bit ooc (i guess??? feel free to tell me if he is).

additional notes: sukuna looks like a mixture of his original form, and has the extended height from his original form in this (so he is a large, muscular man/a damn beefcake) and yuji as a teen with the naturally pink hair and brown sides. if i could draw him, i would. also, i tried to be as gender neutral as possible, but this will may become more feminine leaning, but i’ll try my best to keep the reader version gender neutral. 

word count: 3.1k

here’s the original character version if you’re interested.

⭑

summary: sukuna is yuji itadori’s older brother, and a tattoo artist. but nothing takes more priority than his baby brother, even if he isn’t good at showing it.  when yuji falls head over heels for his kindergarten teacher, sukuna soon learns exactly why the six year old likes her.

⭑

additional aesthetics/materials to go with:

spotify playlists: ( x, thank you @gillinanarts ) and this is like a soundtrack ( x ). sukuna specific playlist ( x ).

“Tch,”  Sukuna scratched at the nape of his neck as he went to tug at the door.  “I got it, old man!”  His lips were pulling into a sneer at the thought of some kid playing ding-dong-ditch.  However, if it weren’t for the muffled noise of a small animal, he wouldn’t have looked down at the car seat at his feet. He was tempted to nudge it with the toe of his left foot but then decided against it.  Maybe that wasn’t an animal. After all, usually… humans were in car seats, right?  He squats down towards the carrier, and pinches the blanket between his index finger and thumb, only to see a chubby, red-faced baby, his fists chunky and rubbing at his face.  It takes two blinks and a skip of his heartbeat to finally make sense of the note attached on the top of the carrier before Sukuna ever moves to wipe a tear from the baby’s face.  “Yuji, huh?” He murmured as the baby made a noise before proceeding to try and grab one of Sukuna’s oversized fingers.  Yuji mutters something in baby garble, even sort of glares at it — if a baby could glare, that is — and tugs on it. 

“You got a good grip there, brat,” Sukuna chuckled as Yuji grips his finger and tries to pull it into his mouth, only for the older brother to curl his finger down, stretching back to pick the carrier up and bring it inside, nudging the door closed with his foot.  He may be eighteen, but he’s not stupid.  He hadn’t seen his mother or father in thirteen years, but they still had the nerve to leave their second kid on the doorstep — as if they were telling his grandfather, “You did so well with the first one, here, raise our second one too!” 

Another snort left him as he rolled his eyes. His grandfather had done his best — but it didn’t stop the two trips to juvie, and all the countless times he had gotten detention, or a letter was written to his grandfather about his behavior that he had either forged a signature on or tossed in the trash. Sukuna’s pride and the subsequent need to handle everything himself were among his many weapons of choice. Much like his hands, or his knuckles, or his boots.

Sukuna sits the carrier on the dining table, unbuckles the baby, and picks him up into his arms, holding him against his chest. Yuji makes an “mmph” noise and shoves his whole hand in his mouth, chewing on his fist.  His other fist takes an opportunity to quickly curl itself into Sukuna’s black t-shirt, holding for dear life.  “Did mom and dad leave you?” Sukuna asks, watching Yuji look up at him and open his mouth before going back to suck on his fist. “Wait till the old man sees you,” he adds, his lips curling in a little smile.  Yuji twists his lips into a toothless smile, but Sukuna can’t help but think it’s more so at the small fart he’s let out instead of listening to his older brother’s words.  The older brother can’t resist the smile that forms on his lips. Yuji is all of a few months old, and he’s a little shit.  But something in his heart is warm and full at watching him look around in Sukuna’s arms, occasionally moving to slap his wet, spit covered hand on either Sukuna’s face or over his mouth. 

Sukuna barely notices he’s pulled at the cord that twists open the blinds. He can hear the hum from the lights in his grandfather’s room, glances to the older man in the bed and then back to the bushes outside, and how someone neatly takes the time to blow cut leaves into a pile, as if it matters. He stopped paying attention to the deafening silence between his grandfather after the first time the man has said, “Make sure you take care of Yuji.”  

As if Sukuna would do anything else when it came to his younger brother. Taking care of Yuji is all he’s ever done, at least for the past six years. When it came to Yuji, it was like the heavens had given him a second chance, another attempt to make something decent of himself instead of picking locks and picking fights. 

It’s not like he had a choice when a baby shows up on his doorstep (well, his grandfather’s doorstep), with a note attached reading: His name is Yuji Itadori. He’s Sukuna’s brother.  Look after him.   It didn’t take a genius to know that considering his grandfather didn’t have any secret love children — that the baby belonged to one, if not both, his parents (indeed his father). And was another grandson, another mouth to feed and be left in the care of Wasuke Itadori.  But now, Wasuke Itadori was dying — and his second grandson, Yuji, would be left in the care of his eldest, Sukuna. 

It was either that or the foster system, and if Wasuke hadn’t thrown Sukuna into the foster system, especially with all the hell he raised, Sukuna wouldn’t do the same to his innocent younger brother. Plus, it was one of the man’s dying wishes to his grandson, so that the least Sukuna could do was try and follow through.  “Not like I can do anything else.”

His broad shoulders fill the window space, and he glances over his shoulder to see the old man fast asleep, so he reaches for his jacket on the back of the chair and tugs it on, picking up his helmet and gently sliding the door shut behind him.  He stops his grandfather’s usual nurse, murmurs that he’ll be back later in the afternoon, and thanks her for taking care of the grumpy elderly man.  He picks up on a nurse laughing at a joke coming from a child’s voice, and he sees Yuji, ever the charmer, leaning on his tiptoes to talk to a nurse who is leaning over the counter and conning his way for another lollipop at the same time. 

The nurses surrounding the station look up at the man walking towards the station, his vermillion eyes fixated on his younger brother, framed by dark lashes and a stature that resembles a god.  Blessed with height and good-looks to shame even the highest-ranking model, and oh.  The tattoos. The tattoos that frame his neck from his back tease on his shoulders, and the few times, the nurses caught his shirt raise; they end towards his hipbones.  It’s easy to drink him in like hot coffee, especially when he raises a hand to ruffle Yuji’s hair. “Alright, Casanova,” Sukuna chuckles as he gestures to the child’s helmet in a nearby plastic chair. “Grab your helmet. We’ve got to get going.” Yuji furrows his eyebrows to ask who is casanova, but with the unwavering gesture from Sukuna, he trots off to grab his helmet and pull on his jacket. 

“Thanks for looking out for him,” Sukuna thanks the nurse — a blonde girl, no older than about 21.  She has a training sticker on her badge and her hair pulled into two buns on the side of her head. He watches as her cheeks turn pink. His hand dips into the mug filled with lollipops on the counter and puts it into his pocket for later.

“Of course,” She replies, and he can’t help but think of the irony of her name — Candace (but for the weeks they’ve been coming to the hospital, she insists on being called Candy)— as he looks back at Yuji, who grabs up at his hand, and holds it. 

“We’ll see you later, Candy.” Sukuna winks, a sly smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Stay sweet, yeah?” He grins to himself when he spots the bright red on her face.  That was the reaction he had wanted all along — the crimson on her flushed cheeks. His boots echo down the hall with Yuji at his side before looking down at the six-year-old.   

“We’ll be back this afternoon to see granddad,” Sukuna informs him as he gives a click of his tongue for Yuji not to unwrap the candy in his fist. “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

Yuji sighs and gives a small huff before asking the question he’s been thinking of all morning.  “Kuna?” 

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Is Granddad going to die?” 

“Tch,” Sukuna starts, his tongue going against his cheek before he then raises his shoulder. He’s not the grim reaper, so he can’t give an exact answer, but Sukuna isn’t one to lie to Yuji, and there’s no point in sugarcoating it either. “Maybe. I don’t know.”  Sukuna watches how Yuji’s head looks down at his light-up sneakers — which in any case, the boy would have taken delight in —and picks him up onto his hip.  “But if it happens, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, and we’ll be fine. Think of good shit, okay? Like the flowers, we’ll bring the nurses. Or… what you want for breakfast.”

“Pancakes!” Yuji yells, wrapping his arm around Sukuna’s neck.  Sukuna lets a small smile form on his lips. That’s better, he thinks to himself. He’s too young to be that aware. He can’t say that, knowing he was the same way.  He was too aware, too knowing, but maybe not having his parents around always wondering why they did that to him.  It’s too late to be tortured by what-ifs; he’s got better things to think about, like where he’s going to find pancakes from and driving a motorcycle safely with a small child in a car seat behind him.

“Alright,” Sukuna agrees. “Pancakes it is.”

. . . 

The smell of ink wraps around the lingering scent of cleaner — bleach, wet wipes, the like as you follow your friend inside. Curious eyes look over the panels of designs lining the walls, only stopping when Rachel sets the deposit for the both of them.  There’s a clean black motorcycle outside, shiny as if it was freshly washed.  The only thing strange about it is the child’s car seat on the back, which sticks out like a sore thumb. Just like that car seat, you feel out of place in a pair of jeans and a pink shirt, borrowed from your friend. Your fingers dig a little into the sides of your denim jacket, but otherwise, there’s nowhere to hide.

The guitar chords of Come as You Are by Nirvana play on the speaker overhead. It’s loud enough to be heard but not too loud to block out the television for the child who sits in a bean bag chair, munching on what looks like pancakes in a to-go container.  Y/N can’t help but notice his pink hair, almost rose gold under the fluorescent light.  Your eyes soften as you watch him laugh at Tom, getting whacked in the head by Jerry, again for the umpteenth time.  Her necklace dances among her collarbones, her fingers reaching up and tug gently.  She only turns when she hears the pop of someone’s gum — the secretary, handling the front desk as she settles a hand on her hip.  “Can I help you?” She asks, with dark red hair, blonde tips at the bottom.  Her gum pops again, this time blowing into a bubble before popping over her onyx colored lipstick.

Rachel nods and gestures to the paperwork they’ve signed on the counter. “We’ve got an appointment. Both of us.” Y/N walks over to the counter, and she can hear the soft squeak of a chair and the slam of a trash can lid before a door shuts.  

“ Do you remember who?”  Rachel nods before pointing a finger.  

“I got her an appointment with Sukuna since he’s good at everything — and I’ve got one with Naomi.”

The redhead sighs, scratching the back of her neck. “Gimme a second,” she sighs before hopping over the side of the l-shaped desk. She walks into the room that’s off the lobby side and gives a tap on the wall.  “Sukuna, Naomi, you ready?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.  Sukuna rolls up his sleeves as he sits back in his chair and then waved a hand.  However, Naomi has someone in her chair, tattooing something on someone’s back — a dragon, maybe? 

“Send ‘em this way, Lila,”  he leans back in his chair, pins up his sleeves, and his feet cross in front of him.  He’s got these black combat boots on, his jeans neatly tucked into them, and Rachel gives Y/N a little nudge forward. 

“Go ahead. Good luck,” She smiles. “If you cry, I’ll come running, but remember! You said you wanted to start checking off your bucket list.” she teased before Y/N gives a roll of her eyes. Your fingers tug a little onto your hair, trying to fix it — after all, aren’t first impressions important?.  No going back. You has to do this for yourself. You wanted to start on your bucket list, and this was the first item.  Going back isn’t an option, not now. 

When you walk into the room, Sukuna leans up in his chair, and his eyes give you a once over.  There’s a little twinkle in his eyes, but you can’t determine what it means. So, you decide you shouldn’t read into it. You’re surprised to see that he has similar hair to the younger boy on the couch.  It is the same shade of pink, with brown undercuts — except his eyes are a startling shade of vermillion.  Under the lights, they’re almost a bright red, like a fire just starting to burn.  His arms and chest fill out a compressed charcoal gray shirt tucked into his light-colored denim jeans, and his fingernails pick at his cuticles as he leans back into his chair, tilting his head to look up at you.

Y/N can’t help but be warm from it as you walks over, and he gives a tilt of his head to gesture for you to sit, holding his hand out. “Let me see your paper,” he demands, but his voice isn’t inherently harsh. A bit gruff, deep, and his fingers feel warm but calloused. They go over your palm before returning closer to their owner, and he adds, “Take off your jacket.”  He’s beautiful.  Godly, even.  You watch how he breathes — just like you— but his chest expands, inches a little smaller once he exhales, and repeats all over again.  The tattoos that curl towards his neck’s nape are made of dark ink, as black as a void.  You can see the curl of his canine towards his lip as he gently sinks his teeth in, like a bee pressing into a flower. His shoulders are broad enough to fill the chair itself; in fact, he’s almost too big, and you can’t help but think of what’s like just to be closer to him. 

Sukuna reads over the paper, looks at the location.  Shoulder cap.  “Is this your first time?” He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. There’s also what you don’t want, and he everything you put, he couldn’t see you with anyways. No skulls, nothing he would consider gruff or dark first.  Y/N nods, still a bit hesitant to say anything.  “Yes,” you clarify, reminding yourself to nod.  If you were going to ask your students to use their words, you should hold yourself to the same standard, right?

“You know that’s not an easy spot, right?”

“I know. I can take it.”  Sukuna chuckles, gives a murmur of I don’t doubt that, and then stands to his feet. His eyes are soft before he glances at the paper again and gestures. The sunlight hits him just right from the wide window near his station, and there’s a clearing filled with a mixture of unidentifiable wildflowers. They’re beautiful, and every one looks different to yours eyes… you can’t help but wonder if he chose it for the view. 

“You… sure you want to give me free rein on your tattoo?”

“Ehrm, yeah,” Y/N swallowed. “I heard you were the best, and I don’t want a tattoo that’s like anyone else’s… so I figured I would trust your creativity.”  However, Sukuna smiles and raises an eyebrow. The comment strokes his pride, amused at his legacy that undoubtedly gets passed from client to client. His eyes give you another look over as he picks up a tablet and takes you in. And are you easy to take in…  so much so, he has to remind himself to slow down, lest he absorb you somehow, and you disappear entirely from his sight.   He looks at the deep v of your shirt, and the somewhat innocence in the way you toy with the hem of your shirt, and the pink sleeves that remind him so much of the clouds Yuji likes to draw.  When he inhales again, he’s taking you in, at full force like some kind of cosmic angel.  It’s like the sun has framed you, even given you a halo.  You’re a canvas of his creation.  The way the light makes you glow.  The sun halo. 

And he picks up his pen and starts to draw. The first muse he’s had since… well, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a muse. But he would relish it while he could, before the reality set back in. “You can sit — what’s your name?” His fingers work fast with your appearance burned into his memory as he hears the soft squeak of his tattooing chair you sit in.

“Y/N.”

Sukuna mouths your name to himself as he sketches. “Take a look,” he starts, “Tell me if you don’t like it. Be honest, because these are permanent.”   There’s some part of Y/N that’s tempted to give a brief I know, but there’s a lack of maliciousness in his tone that makes you bite your tongue.  You lean over into his space, and he gets the slightest whiff of your shampoo — something sweet mixed with the scent of mint, making him release a soft hum.  

“It’s beautiful,” You admit, nodding. “Perfect.”

A pleased smile edges it way onto Sukuna’s lips, before he nods. “Then let’s get started. Lemme wash my hands and grab some gloves, and we’ll be ready to go. Go ahead and get your shoulder out, and I’ll grab a towel to keep from getting your clothes dirty.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” Sukuna nods, looking over his shoulder. “No problem, Y/N.”

[zaynmirrors]

Hardware: Bucky Barnes AU

A/N: so this didn’t go the way I planned but hey it’s fine, I finally got it up though. If you want a part two or any other type of request they’re open so send me a message! Enjoy!

Pairing: Norm!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Norm!Steve And Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, almost passing out? I don't know

I turned the dial on my combination lock, pulling down as I heard the click of the final tumbler opening. Opening my locker I pulled out my vest and slipped it on, but before I left the break room I bought water from the vending machine.

“Hey Y/N, how'd it go with that guy?” Wanda asked as soon as she caught a glimpse of me. I shook my head and she frowned. “You know my offer still stands”

I chuckled slightly remembering her offer to try and set me up with someone at work. “Yeah, Thanks Wanda” I gave her a small smile.

“Hey, Y/N you’re out in Garden,” Nat said coming by, I nod and start the trek out to the sweltering heat that is the garden center.

As I rounded the corner to the registers, I landed eyes on the well-built body that was standing next to the drink machine talking to Steve.

Steve caught my presence first. “Hey, Y/N” this caught Bucky's attention causing him to turn to my direction. I gave them a small smile and a wave.

“What’d you do to get sent out here” Steve joked causing me to chuckle and I stop in front of the register and log in.

“I guess I was late too many times” I joked back leaning against the counter beside the register. Steve let out a hearty laugh as Bucky chuckles.

The day goes on people come through my line, I joke around with a coworker until a customer needs assistance lifting some stones into the back of their truck. I dial into the intercom and say “code 50 to garden registers”, praying that its Bucky.

Soon enough here came Bucky round the corner. “What’d you need?” He asked looking at me expectantly. I explained the situation and he went to work. He hopped into the back of the cab, causing the truck to bounce slightly with the weight. The customer began to hand him the stones and I watched, in a trance.

His muscles glistened with sweat as he worked under the unforgiving sun. He pushed the long pieces of hair behind his ear and looked up into the sky taking a break for a split second, “You’re drooling” I jumped and looked for the voice, finding steve standing there with a smirk.

“Shit Steve”, I sighed “you gave me a heart attack” he laughs and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, placing it on my counter.

“You stare at me like that?” He asked leaning on the counter while opening the water as he watched his friend load the stones by himself, obvious to steve that bucky had it handled.

Steve loved to tease me about the small crush I had on the buff loader. I shake my head, cheeks burning bright crimson. He just laughed.

He pulled another water out of the fridge and handed it to me nodding at bucky, who had hopped off the back of the truck and was heading back towards us looking flawless even as he sweats.

“Here Bucky,” I said trying to be confident but it came out soft as I held out the water bottle to him. He gave a soft smile and took it before standing in front of the large fan they kept outside to keep everyone cool, pulling up his shirt slightly to let the mildly cool air blow on his sweat sheen toned abs.

It was hard to tear my eyes away from the sight but I managed. Steve gave you a sly thumbs up and a cheeky wink that made you roll your eyes. “Thanks for the water” Bucky called out as he began the walk to his designated area in the back along with Steve.

The hours dredged on, the heat was slowly getting to me as I stood there not even noticing that Bucky had surfaced until he spoke, “What's up?” Bucky asked laughing slightly as he saw the position I was in, head pressed against the palm of my hand.

Without looking up I mumbled “I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” he wasted no time in grabbing a Gatorade from the fridge and placing it on the counter. This caused me to look up at him confused by these actions.

He rummaged around in his pants pockets for a second before pulling out both his discount card and his debit card, “What are you doing?” I asked as he held out his employee card for me to scan.

“I’m buying you a drink” I tried to argue with him but he wasn’t having it, I finally had to just ring him up as he kept insisting but he didn’t stop there, he carefully helped me sit down on the cinder block behind the register.

Bucky examined the fan that had been pointed at me and turns it up as high as it would go. He bent down to pull the hair off the back of my neck as he yelled, “Hey Steve, can you call a head cashier and tell them to get me an ice pack?!”

“Sure thing!” I heard Steve yell back. I opened the Gatorade with a shaky hand, and took a few small sips before feeling a coldness on the back of my neck, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Did you eat?” Steve asked from beside Bucky

I shook my head, completely ready to receive a lecture from Steve about the importance of properly eating but at this point, I didn’t care. Instead, to my surprise, I was handed a candy bar.

“Hey Y/N, Nat said you could leave early,” Wanda said, coming around the corner and taking in the sight before her. She was obviously sent out here to take over. I would have argued but I felt like shit and it was just fifteen minutes

“Can you stand?” Bucky asked, still holding the hair up off my neck. I sat for a moment

contemplating if I were stable enough to stand before leaning forward to stand, Bucky moving in sync with me.

Steve moved out of the way and said, “go ahead and walk with her” Bucky nodded and kept a hand on the small of my back gently guiding me inside as a precaution.

I was able to clock out and grab my things from my locker with the help from Bucky. “Are you sure you should drive?” He asked when the two of us reached my car.

I nodded, “yeah, I’ll be fine. I don’t live far” but he still looked worried. So I finally mustered up the courage to say, “if you gave me your number I could text you that I got home Okay”. I felt my cheeks heat up, my heart was just about ready to jump out of my chest.

He thought for a moment before pulling out his phone and handing it to me calming the anxious beating of my heart. I quickly put in my number and sent a text to myself before handing the phone back before getting into my car, but leaving the door open.

“Now I expect a text” he said sternly but with a hint of playfulness as I turned to position myself in front of the steering wheel.

“You’ll get one,” I said with a small smile before closing the door, waving at Bucky and turning on your car. The ac blasted out scorching air before finally cooling off as I drove away in awe at myself.

-

I had made sure to pack a lunch today as well as some snacks in case I began to feel light-headed. I stood next to Wanda in front of the registers.

“What about” she paused for a moment, in thought and then continued, “Steve?” I looked at her and shake my head. “What why not!?”

“Because I like our friendship, I don’t want anything to ruin it,” I said, but I had to admit he was attractive but just not like Bucky.

“Hello ladies,” Bucky said coming up with a smile, a box that contained a ceiling fan inside slung onto his chiseled shoulder. A heat spread to my cheeks as he looked at me.

Wanda smiles and subtly wiggles her eyebrows, I stifled a laugh and just shook my head. “Hey Bucky, are you closing tonight?”, I asked hoping I had all afternoon to look at him.

“Sure am” he replied eyes moving up to meet mine, “I hope you’re feeling better.” he said with a small smile. I nodded at a loss for words, this crush would be the death of me. “I gotta get this back to receiving” he gestured to the fan, that had a faulty sticker on it,

He walked off, ending the conversation. I watched as he walked away, eyes zoned in on his ass, god it was such a nice ass. “Oh my god, you like him!” Wanda exclaims grabbing my attention, my cheeks burning red in embarrassment.

“Would you hush, he’ll hear you” I seeth through gritted teeth looking to see if he was somehow around.

“Why haven’t you told me?” She asks looking almost hurt, I sigh and look at her. She was already awaiting my answer.

I shrugged, not really sure why I hadn’t told her other than the fact that I wanted to keep my feelings private, well mostly private. Steve the little shit, was smart enough to figure it out himself and would constantly tease me about it but it was all in good fun.

“Have you asked him out to dinner?” she asked as she walked to her register with a customer in tow. I shook my head, there was no way he’d want to go out with me. “Well you should, I think you two would be cu- Do you have rewards card with us?” I chuckled to myself as she got interrupted.

I caught a glimpse of Bucky heading towards me and I put on a smile to mask my anxiousness. He gave me a smile as he leaned against my counter, “what's up?” I asked looking into his sea like eyes.

“I’m supposed to be doing my register training, is it cool if you train me?” He asked running a hand through his hair as if he was nervous.

I nodded, “Yeah that’s fine” I logged out and moved so he could take my place. He stared at the computer in confusion, hands out as if he wanted to log in but was unsure of how to do it. “It’s your genesis log in” I replied softly.

It clicked with him as he moved his hands typing in his username and password. I stood behind him, watching as he got his first customer and helping him through it. “You have a good day man” he said to the guy in front of him.

He turned to look at me and gave me a smile, to which I returned. “What time do you get lunch?” he asked randomly.

I didn’t think much of it as I replied with, “Soon”

He nodded and went to say something but a customer walked up ready to check out. I watched, leaning on the counter behind us. Nat came over and tapped my shoulder, I looked at her as she said, “Time for lunch” I wished Bucky luck before heading to the breakroom to take my lunch alone.

-

I had finished all the tasks in order to be able to leave for the night. I joined the rest of the cashiers at the service desk waiting on the manager Tony to let us out. Bucky rounded the corner to join the group of people, a small smile on his face when he sees me.

Once Nat gives us the okay, we log out and head over to the door where Tony stood waiting to let us out. I went out in line with Wanda talking about nonsense as we headed to our cars.

“Hey! Y/N wait up!” I turned around to see Bucky jogging towards us. I stopped and let him catch up, he caught his breath and pushed his hair back with a smile on his face. “Hey”

I laughed slightly “Hi Bucky”, and watched as Wanda walked on waving me off.

“Um, I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while” He rubbed the back of his neck out of nervousness, I nodded for him to continue, a smile plastered on my face. “Would you want to grab dinner?”

I was dumbstruck and at a loss for words, as I stumbled for the words Wanda shouts from somewhere behind me and says, “She would love to! She’s free right now!” My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He waited patiently for me to actually answer to which I said, “Yeah I would, do you want to go to CookOut?”

“Yeah that's fine, we can take my car” he went over to the jeep that was parked somewhat close to my car and I followed. He opened the car door for me and helped me in. I was freaking out on the inside, after crushing on this guy for almost a year I was finally able to go on a date with him.

part 2

[new2fivesauce]

Please Don't Regret Me - 2. Hotel Management

Please Don't Regret Me - 2. Hotel Management

Warnings: Mild cursing

Words: 3660

February 2018.

The day had finally come. 5SOS was going to announce their third album and their first single. Nelle was so proud of them. It was the first time in their career that they were actually fully satisfied in the way their album was being produced. Not that they didn’t love their first two albums, but something about this upcoming album was making them all anxious and excited for what was to come.

They were in Los Angeles today. Nelle hated Los Angeles; Luke had agreed with her when they had landed just that morning.

A large amount of people were bustling around the studio where the guys were going to go live to announce their upcoming track. Nelle caught Michael and Calum at the food table stuffing their faces. She checked her schedule on her phone and saw that they had missed lunch time.

A delay in their flight had thrown off Nelle's whole schedule and she was not happy about it. Usually in cases like this, she was able to make do, but something about California always threw her off.

“10 minutes till!” a deep voice called from somewhere. She rolled her eyes. There was nothing for her to do; not on days like this when the band had other people pick out their clothes and do their hair, pushing her out the way.

She stood in the corner of the room, where she had a good line of the green screen that had been put up. There was a sofa in front of it and two side tables. Microphones were being tested. Calum and Michael had been moved from the food table and some girls were rolling lint rollers over their clothes to get any crumbs off.

“Would you like a chair?” a voice came from Nelle's right. Turning to the figure, she realized it was just the guy in charge of all this. He was less than 6-feet, probably by an inch or so. He was tan with sandy blonde hair in a man bun. The man bun was not a good look, at least on him. She shook her head.

“No, thanks. I’m good standing. We had a long flight in from Home. Sitting is just gonna make my ass flat.” She stated. The guy laughed.

“You’re their assistant, right?”

Nelle nodded.

“Cool, cool, cool.” He started rambling, pulling out a small notepad from his back pocket. He droned on about meetings and video conferences, making sure that Nelle was getting it all down in her own planner.

Someone called five minutes and he still wasn’t done. Nelle tried her best to appear interested. She already knew all about this and how they were going to announce the future track and blah blah blah. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable when she felt like someone was looking at her. She nodded and smiled at this manager guy, who’s name turned out to be Josh, before maneuvering her eyes around the studio.

Her amber eyes met with some baby blues and her body signed in relief when Luke beckoned her over.

“If we're done here, Josh, my guys are needing me. One minute till, right?” she exclaimed, taking his hand and shaking it once before crossing the room to Luke and Ashton without looking back.

Ashton was smirking at her as she came up to them. His dimples on the left super prominent and his hazel eyes were sparking with mischief.

“Ash said you looked like you were drowning.” Luke said quietly, his eyes flickering over to where Josh was now boring someone else. Nelle snickered but thanked the gods for her guys looking out for her.

Ashton was about to comment but was then hastily taken away by one of the girls that had cleaned Calum and Michael. Luke jumped back at her brashness. He didn't liked being touched. It caused his anxiety to act up.

“Hey, it's okay.” Nelle cooed. She stood in front of the blond giant. “Inhale. Exhale.” She repeated this multiple times. She’d forgotten to make sure he’d taken his anxiety meds and was pretty sure he had forgotten too. There was just something about California. She shook her head and continued to soothe Luke down.

Luke did as he was told, closing his eyes to calm himself further down. He didn’t flinch when he felt Nelle's cold fingers brush his curls behind his ears. He’d been growing it out, deciding that it was time for a new look. New album, new style. Nelle hadn’t liked it at first and made sure he knew it, but he guessed she was okay with it now since he hadn’t heard a snide remark about it in days.

Nelle’s fingers trailed down and fixed the collar of the white button-down the stylists had picked for Luke. It was silk and she knew Luke was going to be itchy from it later. Sweating in silk made him irritant. She mentally added baby powder to her ever growing list of items the boys needed. She adjusted the buttons on the shirt as well, buttoning up an additional one so he wouldn’t be showing too much chest. She didn’t like this stylist team sexualizing the band, especially Luke as he had body confidence issues.

Luke opened his eyes as Nelle rubbed some wrinkles out of his shirt. She was lost in concentration, he could tell by her blank, glassy eyes. He gently grabbed her hands by the wrists and held them still between them.

“Thanks, babe.” He whispered to her before dropping her hands to her side. He stepped backwards with a sly smirk and wink before walking over to his bandmates.

Nelle stared after Luke in confusion. He never called her anything but Nelle.

--

Calum looked at Nelle through the full-length mirror of his hotel room. She was propped up against the headboard of his bed, flipping through the channels.

“…and then he says thanks babe. Like what the fuck? Calum… it was too weird. He… it’s LUKE!!”Nelle tossed the TV remote onto the bed, clearly frustrated. Calum furrowed his brows as he adjusted the belt to his pants. He took a step to admire his outfit. He nodded at himself and smiled to check his teeth.

“Has he been acting weird to you? Look…” Nelle held up her phone to her best friend. Calum neared the bed and tried to decipher what she was showing him.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to show me.” He admitted, staring at her phone and seeing a jumble of words that didn’t make any sense to him.

“Oh.” Nelle said sadly and then pulled her phone back from Calum’s face. “It’s a list of your medications. Luke’s anxiety meds changed last month. Do you think that’s got anything to do with… wait… he didn’t even take them today. Fuck.”

She rapidly texted Luke a reminder to take his medications as well as Michael. Michael responded with a thumbs-up emoji but Luke left her on Read.

“Nelle… I think you’re overthinking this whole… uhh… thing. Luke is just Luke and sure… maybe his pills got him acting a bit strange, but I wouldn’t read too much into it.” Calum declared.

Nelle considered what he said. She scoffed. Calum shook his head with a small chuckle.

“Are you sure you don't wanna go out with me and Ash?”

Nelle shook her head. “Nah. It's a quiet night in for me tonight.”

------

Nelle shuffled to the hotel room door as the knocking on the door went from short pauses to rapid urgent knocks. She tripped on her Nike slide as she tried to put it on. It contorted to her foot as soon as she unlocked the door and pulled it open. Her eyes went from looking at the middle of a chest and upwards to a boy’s face with blond curls and blue eyes.

“Uhh… you’re not room service.” Nelle mused. Luke cocked his head to the side, surprised not knowing what Nelle looked like once she retreated from her work day.

He’d never seen her not dressed up and tidy. Before him stood a girl with basically a rat’s nest on her head; he assumed this is why it was called The Messy Bun. Her amber eyes were behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and she was wearing gray sweats that hung low on her hips with a black Hanes tank. Luke quickly averted his eyes back to hers when he noticed her nipples and possibly a nipple piercing protruding through her thin shirt. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea.

“Sorry.” He apologized, not really knowing if because he was not room service or because maybe he’d been caught eyeing her up and down. Nelle’s facial expression looked more serious than anything so he guessed that she hadn’t seen him gazing at her. “My thermostat in my room is not working.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. He held up his room card key, marked with a purple smiley face sticker.

Nelle sighed heavily and slumped her shoulders.

“Are you sure?” she asked. Luke paused for a second before nodding his head. Nelle rolled her eyes. “Fuck… okay.” She looked down at her attire. “Let me just change and I’ll go downstairs and get you another room.”

She began to close her door, but Luke shot his hand out and stopped her from doing so. The truth was he couldn’t get her out of his head… not since their announcement of their new track. The way she’d pushed his hair back and the way her fingers had left hot lingering trails as she had fixed his shirt. That was hours ago, but he could still feel her touch. He didn’t understand these new emotions. Sure, Nelle was quite a looker and he had looked at her before… but something was different about her. Something now intrigued him and he needed to figure it out. Maybe four years later he was finally developing that crush that both Michael and Ashton had had when they had originally met her.

“Can’t I just stay here for the night?” he asked. This time it was her to tilt her head in confusion.

“In my room? You want to take my room?” she asked, her voice raising an octave.

“Not take it, just… can’t I bunk with you for the night? I mean, we’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

Nelle finally noticed Luke carrying his duffel bag. She kept all the guys’ main luggage in her room to coordinate outfits and usually only left them with their duffels that had their sleeping clothes and hygiene products.

“Where are the boys?” she asked. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Luke; he was an okay guy, but in all these years of touring and hotel living, they had never shared a room. Not even when they could only afford one room! In those days, he and one of the guys would sleep in the tour van/bus/vehicle. She was hoping to lead him to one of his mates rooms and not share a room.

“Well, you know where Michael is. Finding his flavor of the night.” Luke replied. “Ash and Cal went out for sushi or something, but I’m sure they’re gonna meet up with Mike afterwards. I would really just like a quiet night in, ya know?”

Nelle eyed Luke suspiciously. Luke knew she was looking for a reason to not let him in, so he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Nelle scoffed, but with a small smile, hesitantly pulled the door open to let in the giant.

Luke didn’t know what he was stepping into as he walked into Nelle’s room nervously. He expected for there to be more mess, but for handling four men’s luggage and her own, the room was basically spotless. It smelled of something familiarly sweet, almost like red Pop Rocks. Luke didn’t realize it at the time, but Calum also used the same Bath and Body Works Watermelon Lemonade lotion as Nelle.

Nelle walked past him after shutting the door. She had an assortment of stuff laid out on the king bed and she pulled everything to one side to make room for Luke. She plopped a pillow down the middle.

“My side.” She indicted with her hand the side of the bed where she moved all her things. “Your side.” She waved over the now blank space of bed. Luke nodded obediently and dropped his bag on the floor where his side was. He was already dressed for comfort in basketball shorts and a regular t-shirt, so he plopped himself where Nelle told him to be. He leaned back on the headboard of the bed, crossed his feet, and didn’t know whether to make conversation or not, so stared at what Nelle had playing on the TV.

“Brooklyn Nine-Nine? You watch this?” Luke questioned after a couple seconds of watching and realizing who the characters were on the screen.

Nelle looked up from her laptop. She was in the same position as Luke, but her computer in her lap. She pushed her glasses up her nose some and smiled at the TV.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite show. I got Michael into it” she stated before going back to what she was doing. Luke shot her a small smile but slowly let it drop when he saw that she wasn’t even looking at him.

She was working furiously on her laptop. Coloring coding items on an Excel spreadsheet and then switching screens to type on a word document and then watching some lanky man in a sweater vest and back again. She’d occasionally push her glasses up her nose and scrunch her face up when something across her screen went wrong.

Luke tried to figure out what she was up to but couldn’t make up all the jumble on her screen and pushed out his mind that Nelle was a very pretty girl. He was about to ask her what she was working on when there was a tap on the door. Nelle looked up from her screen.

“Now that should be room service.” She stated. She looked at Luke expectantly. He pointed at himself.

“You want me to get it?” he questioned as another light tapping was heard. She nodded. “Uhh, okay? Sure…”

He slowly raised himself from the bed and dashed to the door. Nelle went back to concentrating on her work, but was quickly interrupted by what sounded like silverware tinging and crashing down on something metal.

“Holy shit…” an unfamiliar, kind of raspy voice said. “I mean… crap. I’m not supposed to curse at work.”

Luke chuckled and said hi.

“I can’t believe I'm delivering room service to Luke fucking Hemmings. This. Is. The. Best. Day. Ever.” Nelle heard the girl say. Her stomach suddenly grumbled and she silently wished that the interaction would quickly finish.

Luke chatted with the girl for a bit and just as Nelle thought he was going to close the door and bring in the food, she heard him ask “Do you want to take a pic real quick?”

“Oh my God!! Yes! I would love to but since this is a high profile hotel and lots of famous people stay here, we are not allowed to have our phones on us while on shift. Thanks for asking. Enjoy your meal.”

“Whoa… hold on though.”

Luke rolled in the food cart and stopped it at the foot of the bed. Nelle looked at him annoyed, not because he was interacting at a fan but because she hadn’t eaten all day and she could already be halfway into her grilled cheese that she ordered thirty minutes ago.

“Nelle! Do you have the Polaroid camera?” Luke asked her and was heading towards the corner of the room where she had all the luggage and bags. She jumped up the bed quickly.

“Do not touch anything.” She reprimanded him and he quickly stepped back with his hands in the air. She rummaged through her daily backpack and pulled out a mint green Fujifilm camera. It was covered in stickers that the boys had placed on it during their years of touring. She checked the little counter on the back.

“Girl’s in luck. There’s two more left of this cartridge.”

Luke beamed at Nelle. “Do you mind?”

Nelle rolled her eyes, only wanting to be eating her dinner, but she reluctantly walked behind Luke to the door of her room.

The girl was still there waiting on pins and needles. She was about 18 or 19 with tan skin and long black hair pulled back into a pony tail. She was wearing the hotel uniform but her feet were clad in a pair of Converse.

When Nelle came into the girl’s view, her eyes quickly flickered between the singer and assistant. Luke noticed it quickly.

“Uh, this is Nelle. She’s the band’s assistant.” Luke clarified. The girl nodded excitedly.

“No, yeah, I know! Hi!” she turned her attention to Nelle. “I'm Steph. I love you! I mean… you are a style icon and I follow you on social media. You’re great. You make those sweatpants look good, I mean… ugh. I’m blabbing now.” She giggled.

Nelle thanked her with a wide smile. Luke looked so confused. This girl was drooling over Nelle and all he got was a smile. Nelle quickly took a picture of Steph and Luke and then Steph insisted on taking one with Nelle instead of another with Luke.

“Don’t worry, I'm not allowed to say anything about celebrities in the building until after they checkout.” Steph assured them as they stood in the doorway of Nelle's room. Once they bid each other goodbye, Nelle slipped around Luke and went straight to the food cart that was beckoning her.

---

The room was dark but for the TV that was lowly playing Juno. It was the movie Luke and Nelle had finally agreed on watching after binging a season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and splitting the room service that Nelle had ordered.

Nelle was curled into her pillows, dozing off as she watched Ellen Page on screen. Luke was in and out of sleep. His body now taking a bit over half the bed. His left arm was stretched over the pillow barrier Nelle had put up and his hand was mindlessly playing with the drawstring on Nelle’s sweatpants. Nelle wasn’t bothered with it though. She was too tired. Calum’s I wouldn’t read too much into it kept ringing in her head.

Her eyes had closed for a couple minutes when the sudden loud ringing of her hotel room phone went off. Nelle jumped as did Luke. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard an actual phone ring. Nelle sat up and picked up the receiver.

Luke tried to listen to the conversation but kept getting distracted by Nelle’s face. She looked exhausted. She slumped her shoulders as she hung up the phone. She stood up from the bed and pulled what looked like one of Calum’s hoodies over her head and body. Luke eyed her curiously as she grabbed something from one of the bags.

“I'll be back.” She whispered and then left without explaining anything.

---

Luke was wide awake now. He kept looking at the red numbers on the digital clock to the television. She’d been gone five, ten, fifteen, twenty, now twenty five minutes. He was becoming uneasy and he couldn’t sleep knowing that she was not in the room. It was almost two AM. Where could she had gone?

Thirty minutes passed and he thought about looking for her but before he could sit up the door card reader beeped and then the door opened. Luke heard the locking of the door and then Nelle walked in, kicking off her slides and pulling off her hoodie. Her shirt rode up a bit and Luke caught a flash of the bare skin of her stomach and a belly button piercing before Nelle pulled her tank down. She saw Luke was still awake as she made her way back to her side of the bed.

“Where’d you go?” Luke asked, pulling the comforter over her body as she adjusted herself back into the position she’d been in before she had left. Her eyes closed for a moment before answering.

“Had to get Cal and Ash from the lobby. They are fucked up.” She stifled a yawn. Luke suddenly felt annoyed and slightly angered. He glanced at the clock across the room. 2:36 am.

“Is that in your job description?” Luke asked. Nelle shrugged her shoulders.

“My job is to assist and I was assisting on getting them to their rooms.” She nonchalantly told him. This riled Luke up more.

“I don’t think you should have gone to get them. They’re over 20 and fully capable of going to bed themselves.”

This caused Nelle to laugh.

“I don’t exactly have a 9 to 5 job, Luke… and besides, you saying that kinda makes you a hypocrite. I can’t tell you how many times I've had to get your drunk ass from a hotel lobby or answer your late night texts and calls and have to pick you up like I’m your personal uber. It’s whatever. Let’s go to sleep.” Nelle let out another yawn and reached down by her knee where the remote to the TV was.

Luke stewed in her words but found it hard to let it go. He wanted to go off on her, but she turned off the television and the room was suddenly dark. Luke couldn’t see her beautiful, weird amber eyes anymore or her pretty hair or her light freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“You deserve better.” Luke whispered to her, hoping for her to still be awake. And she was because she whispered back.

“Yeah… maybe I'll quit one day, baby. ”

[ryoskuna]

⭑ teacher’s pet | prelude

pairing: sukuna x fem!reader/original character, platonic!yuji x reader.

genre: older itadori brother/tattoo artist!sukuna au. baby/kindergartener! yuji.  parenting!au, some domestic fluff (later on), other things will be added as they come up.

warnings:  possible grammar errors, drama, mentions of insecurity, mentions of death (via yuji, and extension, sukuna’s grandfather), tattoos, mentions of food, mentions of abandonment, motorcycles, parenting, additional stuff will be tagged as it comes up, sukuna’s sometimes a bit ooc (i guess??? feel free to tell me if he is).

additional notes: sukuna looks like a mixture of his original form, and has the extended height from his original form in this (so he is a large, muscular man/a damn beefcake) and yuji as a teen with the naturally pink hair and brown sides. if i could draw him, i would. also, our main character, miss freya is a black woman. 

word count: 3.1k

But, here is the reader-insert version... because I love y’all.

⭑

summary: sukuna is yuji itadori’s older brother, and a tattoo artist. but nothing takes more priority than his baby brother, even if he isn’t good at showing it.  when yuji falls head over heels for his kindergarten teacher, sukuna soon learns exactly why the six year old likes her.

⭑

additional aesthetics/materials to go with:

spotify playlists: ( x, thank you @gillinanarts ) and this is like a soundtrack ( x ). sukuna specific playlist ( x ), reader/freya specific playlist ( x ).

“Tch,”  Sukuna scratched at the nape of his neck as he went to tug at the door.  “I got it, old man!”  His lips were pulling into a sneer at the thought of some kid playing ding-dong-ditch.  However, if it weren’t for the muffled noise of a small animal, he wouldn’t have looked down at the car seat at his feet. He was tempted to nudge it with the toe of his left foot but then decided against it.  Maybe that wasn’t an animal. After all, usually… humans were in car seats, right?  He squats down towards the carrier, and pinches the blanket between his index finger and thumb, only to see a chubby, red-faced baby, his fists chunky and rubbing at his face.  It takes two blinks and a skip of his heartbeat to finally make sense of the note attached on the top of the carrier before Sukuna ever moves to wipe a tear from the baby’s face.  “Yuji, huh?” He murmured as the baby made a noise before proceeding to try and grab one of Sukuna’s oversized fingers.  Yuji mutters something in baby garble, even sort of glares at it — if a baby could glare, that is — and tugs on it. 

“You got a good grip there, brat,” Sukuna chuckled as Yuji grips his finger and tries to pull it into his mouth, only for the older brother to curl his finger down, stretching back to pick the carrier up and bring it inside, nudging the door closed with his foot.  He may be eighteen, but he’s not stupid.  He hadn’t seen his mother or father in thirteen years, but they still had the nerve to leave their second kid on the doorstep — as if they were telling his grandfather, “You did so well with the first one, here, raise our second one too!” 

Another snort left him as he rolled his eyes. His grandfather had done his best — but it didn’t stop the two trips to juvie, and all the countless times he had gotten detention, or a letter was written to his grandfather about his behavior that he had either forged a signature on or tossed in the trash. Sukuna’s pride and the subsequent need to handle everything himself were among his many weapons of choice. Much like his hands, or his knuckles, or his boots.

Sukuna sits the carrier on the dining table, unbuckles the baby, and picks him up into his arms, holding him against his chest. Yuji makes an “mmph” noise and shoves his whole hand in his mouth, chewing on his fist.  His other fist takes an opportunity to quickly curl itself into Sukuna’s black t-shirt, holding for dear life.  “Did mom and dad leave you?” Sukuna asks, watching Yuji look up at him and open his mouth before going back to suck on his fist. “Wait till the old man sees you,” he adds, his lips curling in a little smile.  Yuji twists his lips into a toothless smile, but Sukuna can’t help but think it’s more so at the small fart he’s let out instead of listening to his older brother’s words.  The older brother can’t resist the smile that forms on his lips. Yuji is all of a few months old, and he’s a little shit.  But something in his heart is warm and full at watching him look around in Sukuna’s arms, occasionally moving to slap his wet, spit covered hand on either Sukuna’s face or over his mouth. 

Sukuna barely notices he’s pulled at the cord that twists open the blinds. He can hear the hum from the lights in his grandfather’s room, glances to the older man in the bed and then back to the bushes outside, and how someone neatly takes the time to blow cut leaves into a pile, as if it matters. He stopped paying attention to the deafening silence between his grandfather after the first time the man has said, “Make sure you take care of Yuji.”  

As if Sukuna would do anything else when it came to his younger brother. Taking care of Yuji is all he’s ever done, at least for the past six years. When it came to Yuji, it was like the heavens had given him a second chance, another attempt to make something decent of himself instead of picking locks and picking fights. 

It’s not like he had a choice when a baby shows up on his doorstep (well, his grandfather’s doorstep), with a note attached reading: His name is Yuji Itadori. He’s Sukuna’s brother.  Look after him.   It didn’t take a genius to know that considering his grandfather didn’t have any secret love children — that the baby belonged to one, if not both, his parents (indeed his father). And was another grandson, another mouth to feed and be left in the care of Wasuke Itadori.  But now, Wasuke Itadori was dying — and his second grandson, Yuji, would be left in the care of his eldest, Sukuna. 

It was either that or the foster system, and if Wasuke hadn’t thrown Sukuna into the foster system, especially with all the hell he raised, Sukuna wouldn’t do the same to his innocent younger brother. Plus, it was one of the man’s dying wishes to his grandson, so that the least Sukuna could do was try and follow through.  “Not like I can do anything else.”

His broad shoulders fill the window space, and he glances over his shoulder to see the old man fast asleep, so he reaches for his jacket on the back of the chair and tugs it on, picking up his helmet and gently sliding the door shut behind him.  He stops his grandfather’s usual nurse, murmurs that he’ll be back later in the afternoon, and thanks her for taking care of the grumpy elderly man.  He picks up on a nurse laughing at a joke coming from a child’s voice, and he sees Yuji, ever the charmer, leaning on his tiptoes to talk to a nurse who is leaning over the counter and conning his way for another lollipop at the same time. 

The nurses surrounding the station look up at the man walking towards the station, his vermillion eyes fixated on his younger brother, framed by dark lashes and a stature that resembles a god.  Blessed with height and good-looks to shame even the highest-ranking model, and oh.  The tattoos. The tattoos that frame his neck from his back tease on his shoulders, and the few times, the nurses caught his shirt raise; they end towards his hipbones.  It’s easy to drink him in like hot coffee, especially when he raises a hand to ruffle Yuji’s hair. “Alright, Casanova,” Sukuna chuckles as he gestures to the child’s helmet in a nearby plastic chair. “Grab your helmet. We’ve got to get going.” Yuji furrows his eyebrows to ask who is casanova, but with the unwavering gesture from Sukuna, he trots off to grab his helmet and pull on his jacket. 

“Thanks for looking out for him,” Sukuna thanks the nurse — a blonde girl, no older than about 21.  She has a training sticker on her badge and her hair pulled into two buns on the side of her head. He watches as her cheeks turn pink. His hand dips into the mug filled with lollipops on the counter and puts it into his pocket for later.

“Of course,” She replies, and he can’t help but think of the irony of her name — Candace (but for the weeks they’ve been coming to the hospital, she insists on being called Candy)— as he looks back at Yuji, who grabs up at his hand, and holds it. 

“We’ll see you later, Candy.” Sukuna winks, a sly smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Stay sweet, yeah?” He grins to himself when he spots the bright red on her face.  That was the reaction he had wanted all along — the crimson on her flushed cheeks. His boots echo down the hall with Yuji at his side before looking down at the six-year-old.   

“We’ll be back this afternoon to see granddad,” Sukuna informs him as he gives a click of his tongue for Yuji not to unwrap the candy in his fist. “You haven’t had breakfast yet.”

Yuji sighs and gives a small huff before asking the question he’s been thinking of all morning.  “Kuna?” 

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Is Granddad going to die?” 

“Tch,” Sukuna starts, his tongue going against his cheek before he then raises his shoulder. He’s not the grim reaper, so he can’t give an exact answer, but Sukuna isn’t one to lie to Yuji, and there’s no point in sugarcoating it either. “Maybe. I don’t know.”  Sukuna watches how Yuji’s head looks down at his light-up sneakers — which in any case, the boy would have taken delight in —and picks him up onto his hip.  “But if it happens, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, and we’ll be fine. Think of good shit, okay? Like the flowers, we’ll bring the nurses. Or… what you want for breakfast.”

“Pancakes!” Yuji yells, wrapping his arm around Sukuna’s neck.  Sukuna lets a small smile form on his lips. That’s better, he thinks to himself. He’s too young to be that aware. He can’t say that, knowing he was the same way.  He was too aware, too knowing, but maybe not having his parents around always wondering why they did that to him.  It’s too late to be tortured by what-ifs; he’s got better things to think about, like where he’s going to find pancakes from and driving a motorcycle safely with a small child in a car seat behind him.

“Alright,” Sukuna agrees. “Pancakes it is.”

. . . 

The smell of ink wraps around the lingering scent of cleaner — bleach, wet wipes, the like as Freya follows her friend inside. Brown eyes look over the panels of designs lining the walls, only stopping when Rachel sets the deposit for the both of them.  There’s a clean black motorcycle outside, shiny as if it was freshly washed.  The only thing strange about it is the child’s car seat on the back, which sticks out like a sore thumb. Just like that car seat, she feels out of place in a pair of bell-bottom jeans with little bows on the back and a sheer pink shirt covered in strawberries. Her fingers dig a little into the sides of her denim jacket, but otherwise, there’s nowhere to hide.

The guitar chords of Come as You Are by Nirvana play on the speaker overhead. It’s loud enough to be heard but not too loud to block out the television for the child who sits in a bean bag chair, munching on what looks like pancakes in a to-go container.  Freya can’t help but notice his pink hair, almost rose gold under the fluorescent light.  Her eyes soften as she watches him laugh at Tom, getting whacked in the head by Jerry, again for the umpteenth time.  Her necklace dances among her collarbones, her fingers reaching up and tug gently.  She only turns when she hears the pop of someone’s gum — the secretary, handling the front desk as she settles a hand on her hip.  “Can I help you?” She asks, with dark red hair, blonde tips at the bottom.  Her gum pops again, this time blowing into a bubble before popping over her onyx colored lipstick.

Rachel nods and gestures to the paperwork they’ve signed on the counter. “We’ve got an appointment. Both of us.” Freya walks over to the counter, and she can hear the soft squeak of a chair and the slam of a trash can lid before a door shuts.  

“ Do you remember who?”  Rachel nods before pointing a finger.  

“I got her an appointment with Sukuna since he’s good at everything — and I’ve got one with Naomi.”

The redhead sighs, scratching the back of her neck. “Gimme a second,” she sighs before hopping over the side of the l-shaped desk. She walks into the room that’s off the lobby side and gives a tap on the wall.  “Sukuna, Naomi, you ready?” She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.  Sukuna rolls up his sleeves as he sits back in his chair and then waved a hand.  However, Naomi has someone in her chair, tattooing something on someone’s back — a dragon, maybe? 

“Send ‘em this way, Lila,”  he leans back in his chair, pins up his sleeves, and his feet cross in front of him.  He’s got these black combat boots on, his jeans neatly tucked into them, and Rachel gives Freya a little nudge forward. 

“Go ahead. Good luck,” She smiles. “If you cry, I’ll come running, but remember! You said you wanted to start checking off your bucket list.” she teased before Freya gives a roll of her eyes. Her fingers tug a little onto her curls in her hair before pulling them up with a satin ribbon. Her dark curls still frame her face, with dark lashes to match.  No going back. She has to do this for herself. She wanted to start on her bucket list, and this was the first item.  Going back isn’t an option, not now. 

When she walks into the room, Sukuna leans up in his chair, and his eyes give her a once over.  There’s a little twinkle in his eyes, but she can’t determine what it means. So, she decides she shouldn’t read into it. She’s surprised to see that he has similar hair to the younger boy on the couch.  It is the same shade of pink, with brown undercuts — except his eyes are a startling shade of vermillion.  Under the lights, they’re almost a bright red, like a fire just starting to burn.  His arms and chest fill out a compressed charcoal gray shirt tucked into his light-colored denim jeans, and his fingernails pick at his cuticles as he leans back into his chair, tilting his head to look up at her.

Freya can’t help but be warm from it as she walks over, and he gives a tilt of his head to gesture for her to sit, holding his hand out. “Let me see your paper,” he demands, but his voice isn’t inherently harsh. A bit gruff, deep, and his fingers feel warm but calloused. They go over her palm before returning closer to their owner, and he adds, “Take off your jacket.”  He’s beautiful.  Godly, even.  She watches how he breathes — just like her— but his chest expands, inches a little smaller once he exhales, and repeats all over again.  The tattoos that curl towards his neck’s nape are made of dark ink, as black as a void.  She can see the curl of his canine towards his lip as he gently sinks his teeth in, like a bee pressing into a flower. His shoulders are broad enough to fill the chair itself; in fact, he’s almost too big, and she can’t help but think of what’s like just to be closer to him. 

Sukuna reads over the paper, looks at the location.  Shoulder cap.  “Is this your first time?” He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t meet her gaze. There’s also what she doesn’t want, and he everything she put, he couldn’t see her with anyways. No skulls, nothing he would consider masculine or edgy first.  Freya nods, still a bit hesitant to say anything.  “Yes,” she clarifies, reminding herself to nod.  If she was going to ask her students to use her words, she should hold herself to the same standard, right?

“You know that’s not an easy spot, right?”

“I know. I can take it.”  Sukuna chuckles, gives a murmur of I don’t doubt that, and then stands to his feet. His eyes are soft before he glances at the paper again and gestures. The sunlight hits him just right from the wide window near his station, and there’s a clearing filled with a mixture of unidentifiable wildflowers. They’re beautiful, and every one looks different to her eyes… she wonders if he chose it for the view. 

“You… sure you want to give me free rein on your tattoo?”

“Ehrm, yeah,” Freya swallowed. “I heard you were the best, and I don’t want a tattoo that’s like anyone else’s… so I figured I would trust your creativity.”  However, Sukuna smiles and raises an eyebrow. The comment strokes his pride, amused at his legacy that undoubtedly gets passed from client to client. His eyes give her another look over as he picks up a tablet and takes her in. And is she easy to take in…  so much so, he has to remind himself to slow down, lest he absorbs her somehow, and she disappear entirely from his sight.   He looks at the deep v of her blouse, and the somewhat innocence in glitter strawberries, and the puff sleeves that remind him so much of the clouds Yuji likes to draw.  When he inhales again, he’s taking in her skin color as it absorbs the light.  It’s like the sun has kissed her, even given her a halo.  She’s a canvas of his creation.  The strawberries.  The sun halo. 

And he picks up his pen and starts to draw. The first muse he’s had since… well, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a muse. But he would relish it while he could, before the reality set back in. “You can sit — what’s your name?” His fingers work fast with her appearance burned into his memory as he hears the soft squeak of his tattooing chair she sits in.

“Freya.”

Sukuna mouths her name to himself as he sketches a mass of flowers, a halo with rays behind them— he even works in a strawberry, as a reminder of what she was wearing, and at the bottom of the bouquet is the ivy that wraps all the flowers together. “Take a look,” he starts, “Tell me if you don’t like it. Be honest, because these are permanent.”   There’s some part of Freya that’s tempted to give a brief I know, but there’s a lack of maliciousness in his tone that makes her bite her tongue.  She leans over into his space, and he gets the slightest whiff of her shampoo — something sweet mixed with the scent of mint, making him release a soft hum.  

“It’s beautiful,” Freya admits, nodding. “Perfect.”

A pleased smile edges it way onto Sukuna’s lips, before he nods. “Then let’s get started. Lemme wash my hands and grab some gloves, and we’ll be ready to go. Go ahead and get your shoulder out, and I’ll grab a towel to keep from getting your clothes dirty.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” Sukuna nods, looking over his shoulder. “No problem, Frey.”