#like girl i've read TF stories i know what this means

[miss-wizard]

hey. is someone bunnifying me

[strawberryvanillafrosting]

success life story ♡

heyy i'm here to share about my success story, the beginning is only before i started manifesting and about when i just started, all my success are on the very end of the blog, so feel free to skip directly at it if you're not interest by all the rambling !

have a good read ☆

michiko is so pretty, i've literally been told so many times i looked liker <3

the old story that i don’t live in anymore

okay so before i didn’t hate my life, at all, but i just found very dull and so poor of entertaining like it was just too fucking regular and repetitive.also a bit depressing. i thought of myself of such an unlucky girl before and i was like affirming all the fucking time that i was unlucky and guess what? everything really used to go the way i didn’t want it to go every single damn time and i’d be like i knew it im so unlucky boo-hoo.

same for the money i would just go every single fucking day rambling to my friends how poor i was and how i wanted money so bad and the same story every single fucking for days, weeks, months.

i really wanted a new appartement and my own room cause i used to share same room as my sister and it really was getting on my nerves, i had no privacy and place for myself. the apartment was small, my mum always kept complaining about it and then she would argue about my dad about it but the reason why we couldn’t move out despite trying for several months was cause my dad had whole lotta debts and my mom had a really low paying and hard job she was exhausted and, it was quiet hard to see them being this unhappy and they still tried their hardest to make us happy so i really wanted to get back at them.

about social life i had very few friends and barely went out, i'd say probably one time a month. and i really wanted to get that life of the party, and those big ass friends group and also i was crazy desperate about having black friends cause i am black and literally the only black out here without none of black friends and i felt pretty left out like wtf am i the only black girl with no black friends cause all of them (that's so dumb tho.. ) were friends and gets invited to the most fun hangouts and i was embarrassingly jealous of that and also complained a lot about it…and kept asking tf was wrong with me.

STRONGLY on this one : i wanted a relationship so bad and i kept hating and being sad to those couple on tiktok’s. one time i actually cried cuz i wanted a boys’s love so bad like i was craving it so bad. i was in such despair state before..cringy ahh ☠️

i used to be rlly insecure about my looks too even tho at some moments i felt more confident, i kept comparing myself and waisting dozens of minutes enumerating my "flaws ". i knew about manifestation but not really about law of assumption , for me manifesting was really all about listening to subliminals, method and scripting. we all once knew that phase yeah? i used to manifest from time to time but then would just give up again,since i was not seeing results and so on. so useful wow.and then there’s the others things like mediocre grades, poor family health, just constant tiredness and fatigue feeling,

tw : mention of being depressed,sh,ed, : felt empty like life had absolutely no meaning, suicidal thoughts, tried to end by over-consumption of medication, self-harm and bulimia, constant complaining and NEGATIVE ONLY mindset.

but now, NOW i tell you ever single thing i’ve just listed changed completely like every single damn thing i’ve just listed is no more, it’s out of the date, dead, buried and no longer existing !

it clicked

then at some point at my life i was just like. yk what? fuck i just wanna change it all. then i really like really  got into it all over again and for good. no more 1 week i try then giving up cause i ain’t seeing no « results ».

i watched hours and hours of ppl talking about loa (i’m not saying you should do this at all it’s just that i was very under-informed and wanted to know everything about loa)on youtube, shoutout to rita kaminski and hyler who really put me into it and informed me. then i started reading neville’s pdf books, and tumblr blogs, kinda overconsuming but i liked getting myself informed.

and then that’s where everything started and that i got aware of all the power i actually hold. all the things i actually can do just cause of my mind. i wrote down all my wishes in present tense ,like every single aspect i wanted to change/have in my life. and i started fully living in the end like really got myself into and at first of course, wavering from time to time in the beginning. it was pretty easy for me since i was used to manifestation.but what i didn’t do before is persist no matter what and that’s what was really tricky for me in the beginning to persist no matter what and not just give up to bullshit 3D. but when i kept moving forward no matter the 3D and made it facts the only my 4D matters and everything has already happened, ALL and every single wish down to the last one flowed into my life. ONE by ONE every single hour of the day i would get my manifestations down to the last letter i wrote in my notes.every single thing

success storyy

in a matter of few weeks like really 3 week-ish like- 1 month max.

starting off LUCK i’m extremely lucky now every single time i play gambling activities i win. i’ve won insane amounts at scratch cards i think i’ve won in total more than 5’000$. JUST FROM SCRATCH CARDS.and before i started i NEVER EVER WON. now whenever i play there’s not one time that i’ll win absolutely nothing even just a small prize

won huge lottery prize (from 200 to 12k the biggest i’ve won yet)

winning a gambling games, either online or dice rolling luck,bets, bingos etc.. its literally insane every one keep telling that i literally has got god’s blessing (i’m the god guys🥰)

financially freedom, my parents upgraded jobs and i’ve got lots of incomes + the money my parents give me 

all the debts my dad had, he got rid of ALL of them and when i tell you mf had a lot of em☠️

move out in a new huge ass condo which is a duplex (like really like i wrote it it’s actually scary how powerful we are..) I’VE FINALLY GOT MY OWN ROOM and we’re getting my desired furnitures and decorating the house i’m so grateful

friends and popularity i think biggest shock for me is really this. like my social life has gone from very paisible to completely fully booked and passioning life. like seriously i’ve been to more parties, concerts, birthdays, and hangouts during the last 2 weeks holidays than in my entire life

got lot of new friends, healthy relationships and quality time passed on lots of fun activities and sm memories

black groups friend. WITH AN S.so thankful to myself to be this good a manifestation i litteraly got into a black friend group of girls and i’ve never felt more at my place and understood this much. and these girls know the black group boys (when i tell you that 2y ago they were the person that i wanted to be close with so bad..also they’re really hot and funny lol)so we hung out with them and i was literally so highlighted and became pretty much friends with all of them !! 

my man. HELLO I LITERALLY MANIFESTED MY DREAM RELATIONSHIP? when i met him i didn’t actually realize right on the spot that he was exactly how i wanted him to be and reading back to when i scripted out all the things i wanted at the beginning, everything matched. he’s literally physically and mentally the man of my dream LIKE REALLY. we’re no bf and gf YET cause it’s just a little soon but we see each others super often and we have the best relationship ever i swear it’s giving wattpad. the flirting is crazyyy.

dream bod.from head to toe my desired body. heavy on the lower body all for that azz and wide hips.ive got smooth and clear skin and smell good all the time!! litteraly flawless face + got my braces which suits so much and dimples

plenty of vacations (went to ibiza, usa and dubai )

lenient parents they use to be so strict before i swear its crazy they let me go so easily now, i can hangout without asking 3 days ,like they accept even if i've gotta go in the next hour or if wanna go on trip that's in another country. i can come back home so much later too

attractive & magnetic aura + being really charismatic (everyone i met keep telling me i’ve got this thing that really makes them want me, get closer to me)

good grades without doing much

perfect self-concept - as i kept living 24/7 in the state of wish fulfilled, my self concept only got better making me really know what i’m worth and never wavering/ going back to the old story

whole ass pc set up

all of my desired skincare/makeups/shoes/clothes

and so much more...

outro

i hope y'all liked my blog and that it motivated some of you to NEVER GIVE UP cause y'all are reallyy some powerful mfs and y'all already got all of yours desires !!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ honey kisses, shayama

[haljathefangirlcat]

Now that you mention it, the Volsung-Nibelung-Dietrich cycle would make a good sitcom if you just focused on the zanier parts. The Nibelung siblings Gullrond, Gunther, Gernot, Giselher, Kriemhild, and (maybe) Hagen, with all their pals. Nephews Dankwart and Patavrid; Gunther's incredibly athletic girlfriend Brynhild and her dog and horse; the Nibelungs' best pal and Brynhild's ex Sigurd, who would be the man you wished your man could be if not his moments of random philosophizing or idiotic life decisions despite knowing what was going to happen; Hagen's best pals, Volker the musician and Walther the nerd; local businessman Rudiger and his sweet, cutesy young daughter; socially maladjusted Dietrich and his gang of pals, who always pop up during hangouts despite nobody inviting them... With less murder and more mayhem, it sure would make a good show!

You know, one thing I will always be irrationally sad about when it comes to the Sigurd/Siegfried cycle and related legends is that... it just never gets any of the wacky, zany, "how tf did you even come up that" adaptations and reimaginings Arthuriana keeps getting.

I mean, sure, you do have adaptations with some humor in it, and different ways to mesh Norse and Continental and even Wagnerian elements, and very different perspectives on the same characters. But Arthuriana really has anything and everything from Disney movies to anime and manga to Monty Python movies and musicals to kids' cartoons to A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court and all its parodies to Young!Arthur/Young!Merlin Slashy Bromance shows to irriverent French sitcoms to loosely-inspired queer YA romance novels to a few recurring and even main characters in "all stories are true" fantasy series like Once Upon a Time or The Librarians. There's even those collector's edition Merlin & Morgana Barbies that were making the rounds on here a while ago!

Meanwhile, the wackiest, less "serious" stuff our Nibelungs get are:

The brief Siegfried & Fafnir cameo in the Mara and the Firebringer movie, where the main mythological figures are actually Loki and Sigyn (can't really say anything about the books, as I haven't read them)

A weird Hungarian (?? iirc??) comedy movie where Siegfried has a talking piglet as his animal companion for some reason and Kriemhild really doesn't like him but she apparently can't just tell him to get lost and stop courting her so she orders Hagen to drive him away from Worms and kill him, which I've only ever managed to "watch" in bits and pieces

The comedic operetta Die lustigen Nibelungen, which I've never managed to find anything about that wasn't in German, so I'm not even really sure what it's actually about

The 70s porn movie The Long Swift Sword of Siegfried, which... tbh, I'd rather stick to fanworks on the nsfw side of things, if the alternative is Siegfried with a pornstache

A Modern/High School AU fantasy romance self-pub I once found where, from what I remember of the summary and excerpt I read, Brunhild is a Mean Girl/Queen Bee who tries to steal Siegfried away from Kriemhild and Hagen is Kriemhild's shitty jealous ex-boyfriend (nothing against High School AUs, or romance novels, or alternative takes on the Kriemhild/Siegfried/Brunhild love triangle, or Hagen/Kriemhild as a ship... but tbh, I'd rather see all those elements handled in vastly different ways XDD)

A couple of old Italian Disney comicbook parodies featuring Donald Duck and his family (but those were mostly Wagner-based, iirc, and then again, an amazing thing about Italian Disney comics is that they will parody literally everything under the sun from the Divine Comedy to Twilight)

... Siegfried (or Sigurd?) showing up in one of the Fate anime series? Or novels? Or games? Not sure. I've only ever watched like two episodes of the Fate/Stay Night anime and then dropped it because I didn't like the normal guy protagonist always rushing to protect his (secretly Fem!King Arthur) supernatural sworn knight just because she was a girl

And... that's it, I think.

And on the one hand, I get it. With Arthuriana, you have adventurous romances and ridiculous (affectionate) quests and so many different bizarre canons and twists on them that even that cartoon where Morgan Le Fay sends an American football team back in time to Camelot (I think that was the plot, at least????) is just another "you know, this might as well happen" situation. I suppose that, at least by comparison, the Nibelungensage & All Adjacent Stuff may appear more grounded and less easy to play with and bring in whatever strange, unlikely new direction you want. Plus, tragic events like Sigurd/Siegfried's death, Brynhild/Brunhild being tricked into marrying a man she doesn't want, and Gudrun/Kriemhild's revenge, or even Dietrich's exile, are just central to it, so that's kind of a downer already, I guess.

... on the other hand, King Arthur's tale literally ends with him and his son killing each other at the end of a bloody civil war. And it's not like anyone's ever had any problem merrily ignoring THAT part to, idk, have everyone in the story be cats.

All this to say, I'd watch the hell out of a Modern AU Nibelung sitcom. Or even just a Nibelung sitcom set in the Middle Ages, or Late Antiquity, or a vague mishmash of the two. The dream for that would be a Galavant-style show with musical numbers and a lot of scenes poking fun at epic and heroic tropes, ngl.

Actually, let's be real: I wouldn't just watch it, I'd probably write fic and make gifs and fanvids for it!

[literaticat]

Hi Jenn. I know you haven't read my book or my query so this might be hard to answer, but I was looking for some tips on how to construct feedback. I've gotten feedback that my query letter(s) read more like "high-level back jacket blurbs" instead of "what is needed for the query". They also said they almost moved on from the letter in their inbox but was hooked by the time they read it all. Could you break this down a bit for me and offer any advice? I can parse most of it but am still confused. (It also says at one point that that there should be more about the MC.) Does this mean I've written nice-sounding blurb that would entice a reader but not an agent? Why would a blurb entice a reader but not an agent? If it would entice a reader, surely it could hook the agent too? I kind of see what they're saying - but I'm also confused and not sure I'm analyzing the feedback right. Thank you so much.

As you note, it's hard to say really, since I don't know what the material is, and also I'm not sure what kind of "feedback" this was -- like was it a paid critique from an agent or editor? A friend just giving advice? MULTIPLE friends? Input on a writer's forum? Random offhand comments from different agents you actually queried put together? (Something else?) -- I feel like all these different people or groups might have different kinds of feedback, and I'd take some of it more seriously than others, you know? BUT ANYWAY:

When I see "high-level back jacket blurbs", that implies to me that you've given a big-picture kind of set-up in the pitch. ("High Level" not being synonymous with something like "Fancy and Sophisticated" or "Gifted and Talented" -- but in this case meaning more like "birds-eye view" kind of thing). Combined with them wanting "more about the MC", I suspect you are giving us a taste of the setting and world and a broad-strokes indication of the problem -- when what tends to be more effective is giving us a way in through the main character, and what THEIR problem is and what the stakes are for them, personally.

It would be like if you described the Wizard of Oz by telling us about how this is a fantasy about a magical world ruled by four witches, two of them good, two of them evil, and when a girl gets sent there from Kansas by a tornado, and accidentally kills one of the witches, she must go on a dangerous quest with her band of misfit friends, meeting all kinds of munchkins and whatnot along the way to meet a wizard in the Emerald City who might be able to grant them all wishes, but they face a variety of perils and all is not as it seems. In other words, the focus here is "big picture" and mostly setting up the world and the main thing that happens, but not setting up the main character or the stakes.

When what would probably be a more compelling pitch is focusing more on DOROTHY, what she wants, what her problem is, etc. She's the reader's way in to the story -- we want to care about her and find out what happens to her, right? So you might start by asking yourself some questions about her.

*** [ETA: It wouldn't hurt you to follow this "But" and "therefore" advice, either -- the literal "buts" and "therefores" do NOT have to be in the query itself, but it might help when writing out the story beats as below to help you from falling into a boring "and then" trap where you are just listing off events.]****

WHO IS OUR HERO? She's Dorothy! A plucky, resourceful farm girl who lives a hardscrabble existence in Dust Bowl Kansas, but has big dreams of a bigger and brighter world.

WHAT DOES SHE WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING? To get tf out of dusty old Kansas and find rainbows and happiness!

WHAT'S STOPPING HER FROM GETTING IT? She's a child, she has to live with her family, she loves her family but her family lives in Kansas, etc.

WHAT PROBLEM DOES SHE FACE? First there's a massive storm, which is scary -- BUT, her wish to leave Kansas actually DOES come true -- her house is swept up in a twister and deposited in the glittering realm of Oz! YAY! BUT, unfortunately, her wish came true at a cost -- her house crushed a witch when it landed. THEREFORE, though the people of Oz are happy about the witch thing, actually, she's now a murderer, and has been separated from her family with seemingly no way home. :(

SO WHAT CHOICE DOES SHE HAVE TO MAKE? Will she stay and embrace her new life as the pampered Hero of Munchkin-land with every treat and beautiful, magical thing she has ever dreamed of? Or put herself in danger and give up the lollipops to find a wizard nobody has ever even seen who MIGHT be able to help her get back to the farm and her family?

OK, THAT'S BAD -- BUT HOW DOES HER PROBLEM GET WORSE? Not only would the journey be lengthy and hard under normal circumstances, it's made significantly worse by a witch hell bent on killing her and her friends as retaliation for the death of her sister.

If you can answer these questions about your main character in the pitch, I suspect that it will help it feel less "High Level" and more High Stakes, and get the reader wanting to know what happens to the MC more quickly. (Maybe???)

[pixeldotgamer]

✨All My WIP Projects✨

Since the results of that Twitter poll I did show people REALLY wanna know what I'm working on, I figured I'd just announce/summarize most of the things I have in development right now!

This will be pretty long so it's getting tucked under a read more!

Don't Tell My Wife / DTMW (Game, Horror VN) Status: Active Development

DTMW is my entry for SuNoFes2024 on Itchio! Folks may actually recognize this one as I streamed some concept art a while back, and even posted some as well!

This game focuses on a Husband and Wife in the woods. Specifically, the Husband and something he's been trying to plan for a while. Now there's only one week left and his Wife has taken notice.

"You have one week to get your plans sorted. You thought you had more time than this. Don't let her find out."

---

Treacherous Flesh (Game, RPGMaker Horror) Status: Research & Writing

TF follows the story of Ila, a woman who contracts a deadly illness and must wait 8 months for treatment. The game follows her over that time as her symptoms worsen, and her body turns against her.

Like many of my projects, TF pulls from a personal feeling. This game is an outlet for my own ongoing health problems. I started working on this game after being told I had to wait 8 months for an ultrasound I need for diagnosis. It's month 4 of 8 now.

Probably the most outright depressing thing I'm working on, this game actually means a lot to me. This is an outlet, but I'm also hoping it resonates with people who may be going through what I am.

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Dead Girl's Club (Game, VN) Status: Research & Writing

DGC follows a girl from a religious cult town tracking down the male "murderers" of girls from said town. The game is a very blatant look at the transmasc experience tackling themes of family, community, passing, more.

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Computer Angel (Game, Point & Click/Interactive Fiction, Horror) Status: Concept Development

Computer Angel comes from my own fascination with the concept of "angels speaking to you through your screens" and such, whether for horror or comfort.

In CA, your aunt has just passed away suddenly and you end up with her computer. As you investigate the machine to use for yourself, you realize there's something in the computer. Something that would very much like to make your acquaintance.

With 3 narrative paths depending on your choices, I want CA to be a spooky and surreal little game! While the concept has been fleshed out, this one is on the back burner until I dedicate myself to learning GameMaker which is the engine I want to use.

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Pop-Rock & Curly (Game, Point & Click) Status: Research & Writing

A brainchild of mine from 2019, where I said to myself "What if I made a detective/robber OCs but they're lesbians?" and then PR & C just. existed in my brain?

After just having them rattling around in my brain but never drawing them more than once, I decided to adapt them into a game! I've always had a love of P&C games, so it only makes sense I take a stab at one (Art from 2019)

The game follows detective Pop-Rock, who is personally requested by Curly to help as she rats out her no good boyfriend who has stolen a big flashy item. Using this as a chance to improve her reputation, PR ventures into the cities criminal underworld.

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Juno Law (Game, VN) Status: Pre-Dev Done, Art Concepts Started

Juno is what I'd call my first "modern" game idea, the first game idea I can pinpoint where looking at it I could go "Wait this could actually be a game!" Basically a "what if I made an PWAA game" type deal

We got lawyers, punny names, gimmicky designs, and more! While not what I would call a fangame, Juno is meant to be my love letter to Ace Attorney that I started cooking up after playing the main 6 games. I actually was pursuing this as my first game!

Juno is a LARGE game. The biggest of anything even on this list in scale. Because of that, I've had it on the back burner since I finished the full game notes back a few years ago. The game is completely outlined! All characters, trials, plot lines, all of it!

I'm really passionate about Juno, but I knew I had to be honest with myself; This is just too much for my first game! My weakest skill, in my opinion, is my writing. So, starting out with massive narrative VN? Maybe not, haha. Someday though, I want to make it.

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7. Cleopocha (Game, ???) Status: Concept Development

Cleopocha is about an android idol named Chapel, who starts dreaming of their past personas. It's a game largely about identity and asking what do we own those who came before us, especially when we don't remember them?

My current sticking point with Cleopocha is actually genre! The story I want to tell needs breathing room in a way a VN can't provide, but I'm unsure if an RPGMaker type game is quite right. What should the gameplay even be? Those kinda questions 🤔

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A2amB (Podcast, Liminal Space Horror) Status: Research & Writing

I've had this fascination with doing some kind of story based podcast as far back as 2019, where the title A2amB comes from! The name is a placeholder from the idea I had way back then. (Art from 2019)

The story now is WAY different than the first concept. Salvaging characters and concepts from a MOTW campaign I was running, the podcast is now about a liminal space mall and the people stuck within it. (Art from Aug 2023)

Casey Day, local computer repairmen and burnout, gets dragged into the liminal mall and is stuck fumbling around trying to get out again. Besides twisting halls, a mannequin cult, and unpleasant personalities - Casey will also be haunted by his own issues.

I've been on a steady dev pace with A2amB, but I'm still figuring out what I want from the story, as well as how I want to deliver it. So currently I'm just locking down the pacing and themes in a way I find satisfying. I'll probably have to trim a lot of ideas..

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And there's the bulk of what I'm working on! I need to refine my pitch process a bit, but I honestly just love gabbing about ideas!! I have no set release dates for these projects, they'll happen when they happen! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

[kyliafanfiction]

saying ward is only lame idiocy is pretty myopic. all true dykes support Victoria “cop” dallon

...I didn't say Ward was lame idiocy? The anon that 'recommended' Ward referred to idiocy in the worldbuilding, but AFAIK, I haven't called Ward idiotic or lame.

I've said I don't want to read it (and referred to gouging my own eyes out as a preferred thing to do rather than read it) and I've probably said a few other disparaging things about it in a broader sense, but the term 'lame idiocy' has not been among them. I'm not sure I've called anything 'lame idiocy'... ever?

As for supporting Vicky, I do like Vicky? I don't want to read Ward for many reasons, including that by all accounts I don't think I'd really like the version of Vicky that exists in that work, but I do like the Vicky that exists in Worm (such as she is) and some of the fanfics that use the decent (subjectively) parts of Ward to construct a fuller and better picture of the character.

But I doubt an actual supporter of Vicky would call her 'Cop' like that, especially not as a middle name. Leaving aside the fact that I vehemently disagree with that sort of labelling of Vicky (it's not inaccurate, but it is misleading and incomplete and certainly dismissive to just label her 'cop' and move on).

As for 'all true dykes' supporting her, that seems... off? I mean, popular shipping and fanon aside, as far as I'm aware, Victoria remained straight throughout the entire text of Ward (because, as I understand it, the first female MC Wildbow ever wrote that is canonically into girls is the Claw MC). Of course, ship whatever tf you want, Taylor being straight in canon doesn't stop me from shipping her with Amy or Rachel (or doing similar things in other fandoms, from time to time, though I do tend to do it less than some people in modern fandom) or having about ~20 different Pillbug/Skitterpan fic ideas.

So while I'm sure lots of lesbians and bi girls, etc do really like Vicky, hc as bi or gay or pan or w/e and ship her with Ashley or Taylor or Lisa, etc, as do presumably decent numbers ofstraight girls, guys of all sexualities and various fans of other gender identities (nb people, agender people, w/e), she's not like, you know canon sapphic rep or anything.

And again, I do like Vicky. I just don't want to read Ward. I would rather, as I said, gouge my own eyes out with a rusty spoon than read it. I would rather sit down on a cactus. I would rather read Twig. There's certainly things that would be less enjoyable than reading Ward, and there's also probably a good amount of stuff I would enjoy in it. But I do not feel any need or desire to subject myself to 2 million words of a work that I have many reasons to think I wouldn't like.

The fact of the matter is, for all that I am enjoying Worm, there are a lot of things about Worm I don't like. Not because Worm is bad or anything, it's not, it's just not really my kind of story. I'm not and never was the target audience, and I knew that going in, and I knew there were things about it I was never really going to love (the bleakness, for instance, which some people seem to adore, though they may not use the word 'bleak'). There's still a lot I like about Worm, but Ward sounds like it has even more of the stuff I don't like about Worm, and even less of the stuff I do like about it.

Obviously, without reading Ward, I cannot have a fully informed opinion on the work, and you know what, I'm fine with that. I didn't need to read 50 Shades of Grey to know that it's not for me and that I don't want to read it. And if you think that's an unfair example (which, granted, it kind of is), I can also say I don't need to read IT or watch either of the recent IT movies to know that I don't want to read/watch it. Not for me.

Ward's not for me, and I don't want to read it, and unless I was paid to, I wouldn't read it. (Or, I guess, forced at gunpoint, I'd read it then too). But I am not and will not say Ward is a bad work. All said and done, it's probably as good as Worm, or therabouts. So good, even great in places, but by no means a perfect flawless masterpiece. But I'm still not gonna read it.

I don't know if this technically counts as hate, but I am gonna rate this anon with a 0/10.

[skylermadness]

Full Interlink (Guernica Vandham TF/MC/AP)

(Original Date of Upload: February 4, 2023)

Guess I'm uploading my stuff to Tumblr now! I've been writing on DeviantArt and FurAffinity for a good two and a half years now, and felt like maybe testing the waters to see how things will do on Tumblr.

Original Description:

I have written two TFs of the Vandham variety and both of them are Mature. I wonder what this means for me. Anyway, this was an idea I've actually had swirling around my head for a few months now. I wanted to try something based on one of the early game cutscenes, and I kind of went with something that might be considered possession in the least? I don't know. Anyway, this was a really fun story to write! I was trying to go more of an angle of self-exploration and pleasuring during the transformation, something I didn't really explore with many TFs before (except maybe the Thor one from last year). I'm quite proud of how it turned out though, might be among my favorite works! ...I say that with everything I upload, damn. I also wrote this story as a soft sequel to my earlier Xenoblade 3 story "Gray Matter". It's not really vital you read that one first, I just thought it'd be a nice connection to end things on.

   Smoke was quickly consuming the valley's battlefield with each passing second, the only sound heard being that of a grueling fight. Six people fighting against a gigantic, monstrous creature of an unknown Origin.

   Farther away from the fight there's the sound of metal clanging, and energy pulsating shortly after. An egg-shaped object sits on the ground, splitting open evenly as a piston within it arises and blue motes of light escape its internals. The shell of the object glows a bright green. An eighth person is on this battlefield as well: a burly, bearded man who was currently mortally wounded. Still, he was attempting to do something despite his life-threatening injury.

   As the object appears to power up, this man lets out a laugh of triumph. "That's what I'm talking about… looks like it wasn't all for nothing!"

   And for a second, the TV screen flickers.

   In truth, all of what had just occurred was merely a part of a cutscene. One that belonged to the game Xenoblade Chronicles 3.

   Sitting on the living room couch, a young man named Mike eagerly watches the scene unfold. He had originally spent a while procrastinating on even beginning to play this game, but once he started he found himself hooked. The characters interested him, and what little plot he's been given at this point in the story had interested him. 

   And considering Mike's fixated gaze towards the TV screen. He was captivated.

   The fight still continues in front of him. The mysterious giant manages to knock one of the fighters off her feet. But before he gets a chance to land a finishing blow, someone else comes and uses their sword to divert the giant's attack. The swordfighter isn't able to get both he and the girl beside him away from the giant fast enough, and things already are quickly beginning to look dire.

   But then a voice yells out in the distance; deep, aged, accented. "It's not over yet!!"

   Mike stares at the face of the man. Guernica Vandham. Admittedly he looked like an altered version of the Vandham from the second Xenoblade game, but that didn't make him any less interesting. Considering Mike's ardor towards the original, the copy was just about as good in his eyes.

   The older face, the thick beard, the Australian accent. Heck, the jumpsuit looked perfect on the guy! It was enough to make him unconsciously think about just being the guy. Having his face, his hair, his muscles, his voice…

   In almost an instant, Guernica pushes down the piston and a massive pulse of energy spills from the object. Spirits of the fighters appear to be ejected from their own bodies.

   This includes the spirit of Guernica Vandham himself.

   Time seems to slow, and…

   Mike barely gets a chance to react as the burly man's spirit almost seems to get expelled from the screen of his TV and descend onto his own body. His physical form and Guernica's spectral form seem to overlap each other for just a millisecond, then the hulking apparition disappears as if it were never there to begin with.

   At the same time his television seems to flicker, the power of it short circuiting as his Switch emits a worrying noise of electric crackling. Something builds up, then snaps as the TV forces itself off. The console beside it does the exact same thing as well.

   The sensation that pushes everything out of the weird slow feeling state of time was the electrical crepitation of the very controller in his hand, the object seemingly mimicking the actions of all the other electronics in the room. A massive shock entered Mike's hands and arms, the young man hissing in pain as he flung the object onto the table in front of him.

   "What the hell was that-" Mike said, his eyes wide as he took in the sudden change of state in his surroundings. His limbs tingle from the sudden shock of electricity, and his palms seemed a little red, likely due to the heat. 

   His gaze wandered around. Towards the controller, which now appeared fine. Then to the television, whose screen was black and pictureless with no sound coming from its stereos. He then took a glance at the Switch, seemingly inactive as well. But there seems to be something faint, and Mike squints to see what it was.

   "Is that… smoke?"

   He couldn't fully tell, but a barely noticeable stream of smoke seemed to be escaping the docked console's vent. "Aw crap, did it overheat??"

   He stood up from the couch and took a step forward, but was suddenly stopped when he felt a sudden spasm course across his entire body. "Agh, what…?"

   The tingling in his hands seemed to increase dramatically, feeling a new, strange sensation. It felt as if he submerged his hand in pure TV static. He looked downwards at his hands to check for any changes, and… he indeed found some.

   "Wha…"

   Mike's mind blanked, the young man dumbfounded at what he was witnessing. Both of his hands appeared to be growing. Both palms stretched, size increasing with each passing second. They swelled with a thick meatiness entering them. His fingers lengthened to fit the new proportions of his hands, and a significant thickness entered them as well while the tips of each finger blunted. 

   The discomforting tingling in his hands slowly subsided, the cause being another change that seemed to settle in his hands. As his palms enlarged, the skin upon them grew harder and dense with thick calluses etching upon them. The skin on the back of his hands began to weather, aging rapidly as it gained an almost leathery texture to it. 

   Mike flipped his hands over a few times in a panic, eyes wide at the sight of them. “What’s happening??”

   This strange occurrence then started to move upwards. The rapid aging of his skin cascaded upwards like some kind of reverse waterfall. Alongside that came a substantial amount of bulk in the affected limbs. Bulk that was a result of an increase in muscle mass. It started in his lower arms, the areas heating up as an almost instantaneous workout was forced upon them, their musculature increasing greatly in mere seconds. All the while, the bones in his arms extended, stretching to a larger length than they once were.

   Things rapidly reached his forearms next, his muscles growing in that area as well. Biceps began to bulge, triceps magnifying alongside them. The sleeves of his shirt strained against this growth, easily becoming sizes smaller in comparison to his thickening forearms. This was quickly exacerbated once his delts started to gain mass as well, practically ballooning in size. From there the changes jumped to his torso, etching into his shoulders and beginning to broaden them.

   The sound of the fabric of his sleeves tearing pierced the air of the room, Mike groaning while sweat started to bead from his forehead. The odd tingling had remained as a searing heat that reverberated around his form, and now that it reached his torso it was steadily plunging both downwards and rising upwards. 

   He blinked a few times, placing a massive hand at the side of his head. “Hot…” was the first word he could muster, the burgeoning heat messing with his train of thought and leaving his mind hazy.

   “Ugh, something’s wrong…”

   Although, something about that very statement felt incorrect. His earlier panic was dying down rapidly, easily being replaced with a dazed disposition. Confusion was setting in; that of why this is happening, what is even happening. There was also a state of curiosity as well. 

   His eyes slowly edged to a side, staring at a muscular arm and thick hand. “So… old and…” his cheeks flushed, “big…”

   At the sound of that very simple word, something else began to well up inside him. Heat surged within the man’s core, his bodily frame now starting to widen and slowly pull at the buttons of his shirt as his size grew in width. The strain on his shirt's split persisted, his chest swelling as his pectorals expanded. It wasn't long until their growth exceeded his shirt's limit; a button breaking an eyelet while another one just simply popped off. His pecs continued growing, thickening into two meaty slabs.

   It was at this point that Mike's attention had drawn downwards, his mind in a hazy stupor. The site of his newly massive pecs felt satisfying to him. There was also something enjoyable about feeling his shirt continue to rip itself open, more and more buttons breaking against his wide form and thickening muscles. His stomach churned at the feeling of his abdominal muscles beginning to bubble from his skin. Buttons strained, a few simply breaking off, as a six-pack sequentially rippled from the top of his abdomen down. 

   Mike smiled goofily at the sight, lifting a hand and dipping a finger into the cleavage of his pectorals. "U-urgh… this feels… nice…"

   His breathing shuddered. Did his voice crack? It sounded… deeper. And like an accent was beginning to creep in. But those thoughts quickly dashed out his mind as he moved a finger downwards, slowly trailing the midline of his new abdominal muscles.

   "Y-yeah… warm 'nd… big…" he said, voice quiet but getting noticeably deeper with each word.

   His back straightened, pressure wracking the vertebrae of his spinal cord. The floor was beginning to move further away, the hem of his shirt riding upwards. A sign that his height was increasing.

   The sensuality of the experience seemed to increase substantially as he felt hairs prickling from his skin. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden sight of dark hairs emerging from his skin. At first it was just a mild dusting trailing across his chest and the middle of his abs, but it quickly grew beyond that. The fuzz lining his midline thickened into a nice treasure trail, that blossoming of thick hairs seeming to move upwards until it reached his pecs. From there it formed a forest of fur, a sight that greatly contrasted the hairlessness of his arms. Even more peculiar, all this hair had a dusty gray color to it.

   He didn't have a lot of time to dwell on that thought though, his hand moving back to his pecs and rubbing them a little. Feeling the bush of fur beneath his calloused skin, watching the hairs break through from between his fingers. His cheeks flushed again, the man feeling so… warm…

   He could feel this intense warmth running downwards in more ways than one. The button of his jeans struggled against his widening waist, that region being the next to expand. 

   It started off simply at first. His thighs started bulging, mimicking the changes in the rest of his body as the muscles within them expanded. Ridges formed within the denim of his jeans quickly as they outlined the increasing size of his hamstrings and his quads. But things quickly got out of his, Mike beginning to feel his rear swell in size. The seat of his pants filled, his glutes growing. His ass was getting round, firm, and thick. So much so that it was evident through the back of his pants.

   Of course, the front wasn't left unscathed. He could practically feel the blood shooting downwards, the man blushing in a mix of embarrassment and euphoria. His groin stirred with activity, the zipper of his jeans breaking from his new girth. A bulge had formed, Mike letting out a deep, husky groan at the feeling. He couldn't help but move his hand down to the area and squeeze it for just a moment of pleasure.

   Meanwhile, more of his changes transitioned past his knees. His bones pressurized as they bulked beneath his new weight. They lengthened as well, the legs of his jeans moving upwards as his height increased some more. The denim also began to split at the sides, muscles continuing to bulge in size. The crus of his legs practically felt like they set ablaze as his calves swelled. His legs were effectively twice the size of what they used to be, although the same could be said for the rest of his body.

   The only piece of his clothing that wasn't torn up was his shoes, but judging by the increasing discomfort in that area it was easy to tell that wouldn't last long. With his footwear, his feet were steadily expanding. Stretching out to get larger, getting meatier as well. His toes grew as well, each one getting thicker. As the size increased, the toecap of his shoes started bulging, his toes pushing up against the leather. The seams holding his shoes together were quickly beginning to undo itself, the strings fraying and splitting apart over the bridge. His heel dug into the back, ankles into the sides. Then, in mere seconds, his shoes split open to reveal his massive feet, which continued to grow larger until they were in proportion with the rest of his body.

   Mike was practically growling now, slowly trying to get over his sudden erotic euphoria. "Everythin's so sparkin'... hot, urgh…" 

   He swallowed, feeling the lump in his throat swelling as his neck got larger. Thicker, swelling out into a trunk. His voice continued to deepen, his vocal cords altering it as they changed within his neck. 

   "Somethin' ain't right…" he spoke. His vocal mannerisms were shifting. His very accent was changing, becoming more and more Australian sounding.

   He felt so confused. So many emotions and feelings were firing in his brain at once, his senses being overridden with other feelings every second. Confusion, euphoria, warmth, haziness, erotic bliss, pleasurable desires, it was so much.

   "Grrgh, ain't never felt like this before…"

   His body swayed, the man unhanding his groin and pressing it onto a nearby flat surface (a table, he'd assume if he could think properly anymore).

   He started looking around. "The heck am I… this ain't Alfetto…"

   A-Alfetto? That's not… is it? He was in that valley, a fight was going on… or, or was that just… a game? N-no, it was real, right?

   "What's goin' on…"

   He placed his unoccupied hand on his head. His mind felt scrambled. Memories twisting and shifting, identity in turbulence. Where was he? Who was he? He should know this goddammit!

   "Can't let your age get to ya' now, M… Mi-... Urgh-"

   His head ached. Shit, what was his name again? How the hell could he forget that…

   He groaned again, aches beginning to reverberate across his entire skull. The structure of it was increasing in size; lengthening, widening. His jawline resculpted itself, hardening and chiseling itself out into something more wide and blunted. His head's shape was looking more rectangular by the second. Structures on his face were next to change. His eyes were getting slightly smaller, his eyebrows getting more curved. His nose probably underwent the largest restructuring as it grew bigger, rounder, and slightly bulbous.

   Shortly after, hairs started to prickle across his face. Dark at first, but quickly shifting to a gray coloration. Stubbly fuzz running down the sides of his head, across his chin, around and above his lips. It soon began to grow, however. It was slow at first, but the pace soon changed as it quickly bloomed into a short beard. Short, well-kept, gray…

   His entire body had aged at this point, his face was about ready to catch up. His younger features faded rapidly; wrinkles etching themselves at the ends of his mouth, the edges of his eyes. His skin was getting a tough, weathered look to it. Older and older he got; early 20s, mid 30s, late 40s, mid 50s. More and more age was sleeping into his skin, alongside a massive X-shaped scar that slit itself across his face and scarred over in a millisecond. 

   As he aged, his once brown hair was graying as well. Starting where it met his beard, quickly extending to the rest of his scalp in the blink of an eye. His hairline was even beginning to recede a bit, granting the man a widow's peak in seconds. The curly, messiness it possessed was probably what changed the most though. Follicles were realigning as they pushed out his head, getting longer and longer. From the sides and from the back it became quite long, moving past the nape of his neck and reaching his upper back. As for the top of his head, it extended, but also styled itself, growing and aligning into a perfectly groomed pompadour-style.

   A soft green glow illuminated his eyes for a moment before subsiding. "Sparks, is this what death feels like-"

   He placed a hand on his chest. His… bare chest. A part of him reflexively squeezed a pec, the man shivering in response. "Wh-what am I doing…"

   His mind was still in a confusing mess. Parts of him that didn't feel like him were being subsumed, his identity trying to supplant itself firmly in his mind. Turmoil and chaos was trying to settle itself, pieces falling into place as he was trying to determine what the hell he was doing here-

   Alfetto Valley, Ouroboros Stone, Mœbius, those kids…

   He squeezed his chest again. Why wasn't his hand wet? He could've sworn he was shot straight through there…

   He tried to reorient himself, to look around, although he felt woozy and disoriented. He'd make a joke about being drunk right now if he was in his right mind.

   The final changes occurred as he stumbled; that being the shifts of his ill-fitting clothing. From an outside perspective, these changes were almost instantaneous. His button-up shirt fused with his jeans, the material of both articles of clothing seeming to harden into leather. Whatever buttons remained got consumed by the leather, the combined split growing a metallic zipper to compensate before beginning to zip itself up. The sleeves of his shirt seemed to almost disconnect, leaving the newly forming jumpsuit sleeveless. The disconnected sleeves formed a second layer of grayish-teal cloth that went across his chest to form a t-shirt. His jumpsuit continued to change, the material finally changing color to a plain gray while the size of it enlarged to perfectly fit his body. The collar of it unfurled and lengthened, almost going so high that it would graze his face.

   Additional bits were being added. Slits formed in the abdominal region of the material becoming welt-side pockets, meanwhile a pair of gusset pockets bulged from the thigh region. A belt materialized and snaked itself around his waist, adorned with pouches and a weapon holster. While his t-shirt formed, the part that touched his hand seemed to cause another sudden appearance of a new material, black leather encasing his hand and lower arm while a metallic goo emerged and solidified into an arm guard. A similar accessory seemed to appear on his other hand shortly after.

   The last changes reached the remains of what could barely be called his shoes anymore. The simple fragmented cloth and rubber that composed of the footwear's entirety expanded, the once-solid consistency seeming almost liquid as it consumed his foot and moved upwards and around the crus of his legs. It then shaped itself, molding into what appeared to be boots, garnering a leathery black texture while this occurred. Metal plating then emerged from that leather, a pair of guards strapping themselves around his lower legs.

   A boot practically stomped on the ground under his weight, the older man slowly regaining proper mobility absentmindedly. He didn't even notice an eye patch appearing out of thin air and strapping itself to his head, his mind registering it as having always been there.

   "C'mon, Guernica, ya know you haven't had anything…"

   Guernica! That's his name! 

   He squeezed a pec again, the mindless self-indulgence seeming to have faded. He could barely even recall what had happened in those last minutes, only recalling flashes of pleasure from one side of his mind while having flashes of war from the other. He let out a deep sigh. His chest didn't hurt anymore, and unhanding it he saw it was… fine. As if nothing was there.

   Looking up, he peered around the room he was in. Living room of some kind, pretty well furnished too. Although it doesn't feel like anything he's seen in the City. 

   As he thinks that, his eye catched a glance of a nearby window. It's noticeably dark out, but he can definitely see the night sky, the outside.

   "This definitely ain't the City…"

   So where did that leave him?

   Part of him wondered if this was one of those fabled upper realms like those he's heard the City researchers talk about in passing. Elysium? Or perhaps the divine upper plane beyond two giants?

   Agh, whatever. He didn't listen to them long enough to know. He doubts this is some kind of post-death paradise anyway. Especially since the last thing he could recall was activating that Ouroboros Stone, and feeling like his very soul was pummeled from its body. 

   Did he even get a chance to die?

   He growled to himself. "Don't go thinking those thoughts to yourself."

   He feels alive. He has to be. He's just in some… unknown world.

   "Hm. If this ain't Aionios…"

   This could be a big risk, but…

   He lifts up a hand and grasps a notch on his eyepatch's strap, squishing it around to undo it. It takes a few moments, but he manages to do so and remove the patch.

   He blinks his eyes. "Sparks, that thing gets hot…"

   He then feels something within his Iris. Crap, he hopes it ain't a Mœbius signal-

   But after a few moments, he registers the signal. It's familiar. It's…

   "Gray…?"

[andvys]

“that’s the thing, you create him so disgusting to people and for eddies girls to hate him more, “

This is a fanfic? 😭 Andy can create him however she wants. I think people need to learn how to separate fanfic from show canon. A fan writes a fic about characters based on how they want them in their own alternate reality🤠 I mean shit I’ve seen a lot of fanfics where Billy is the sweetest man on earth when canon wise he was pretty shitty. Yeah Steve is not like this anymore in the show after S1, but THIS IS NOT A SHOW! IT DOES NOT HAVE TO BE THE SAME AS THE SHOW! (& honestly Steve had a character development in this story! He changed a lot but ? That does not mean reader is gonna overlook the trauma and fall back in his arms. What kind of message does that send to people who are in actual relationships like those or who have struggled to get out of toxic relationships like those. AND you know what it’s not even about that. What this is mainly about is that as the author Andy can write whatever tf she wants. Just don’t read? Andy has never cared about likes and repost and attention. She writes for herself and chooses to share it with us. She can stop this any time she wants.)

Also yeah some Eddie girls may react the same some Steve girlies do, but I’ve never seen one be so rude to Andy. And if they are shame on them.

if we’re gonna be getting mad that Steve is written a certain way then let’s also get mad about how the story isn’t written by Andy to follow the show’s plot line in terms of the fucking lab and the fucking demogorgons and Vecna etc etc 🤠🤠🤠

I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL FOR YOU ANDY. I WILL DEFEND YOU TO NO END EVEN IF YOU DO NOT NEED ANYONE TO DEFEND YOU. (Which you don’t) I think many of your other readers will too.

-💃🏻💅🏻

THANK YOU!!!!!

you're right! this doesn't follow show canon, at all, except for the fact that Steve was a bit of a douchebag in season one, just like in this story but he changed in both the show and this fic.

honestly, I've never gotten this many rude asks before. and I wrote a rockstar!Eddie fic where he was literally a cheater (not to reader) and a liar, yet none of the Eddie girls came for me that way, not even when reader started a relationship with Steve (kind of) despite being in love with Eddie. In fact, most of the Eddie girls even supported that relationship with Steve and wanted it because he was so much better for her than Eddie was. (And Eddie wasn't even half as bad as Steve was in the beginning of this fic)

I love love love this story so fucking much. I put so much effort and time and love into it and I'm sad to finish it soon but I also look forward to it cause I'm exhausted about all the shit I get after every chapter that I post, it's literally annoying and draining.

[turmoilcity]

I wanna talk about Bella and MTH for a bit. I wanna roast her.

~~~

I have absolutely no idea why I've become obsessed with a fic out of anything one could obsess with, but SBJ's More Than Human is like a drug to me.

I won't get into the awkward detailing, to save myself from embarrassment, but I've been following the fic since 2014. SBJ has no idea how much of an inspiration her work has been for me.

All of that's to preface, I know MTH is a ship fic, so adding my characters is messy and junky happies for myself. I respect and adore the fic for what it is originally, and adding my characters is just me being silly.

Onward, to Bella.

I have this running joke of Lillian calling Bella "A wannabes Buttercups" It's a poke at how similar I've made Bella to her.

Perhaps I've read sbj's essays on the greens way too many times because Buttercup's entire persona rubs off on Bella. From the "tough girl" trope, to the "only befriending guys" idea.

Can you tell, I think MTH Buttercup is super cool?

Well I thought it'd be totally wicked to up the antee. So "boom" add a shit load of Butch into a Buttercup 'stand in' and "bwam" there you go, Bella.

She smokes. She swears. She makes tasteless sex jokes and flirts with her friends.

I realized way too late that this could make her an unlikable brat. If there's one thing society don't like, it's girls with bad attitudes. And Bella... oh boy.

Because you see, like, Buttercup? She has a bad attitude, but it's not too much of a bad attitude. She's not going around talking weird shit like "Choke me, daddy," and then punching guys in their dicks for edge factor.

Bella is...

I'm not bragging here. It's like, a really horrible character trait I've tact unto her and i won't let it go because "bella go berserk. Bella Demon girl. She no girly girl."

Bella is a mess.

Like this "official" story I'm trying to write with her got me stressed tf out. She's just...

And im trying so hard to search if there is anything more to her character.

Um. There is, I'm just bad at showcasing it. In terms of More Than Human, I like presenting this character to the greens, obviously, like "look at the little baby you've unintentionally birthed by being such a great dynamic."

Butch: lemme see...

Also Butch: *yeets baby*

For example. I like when Buttercup bonks Butch on the head. It's a Funny! But put that trope in my hands? Pft... ha. Shit gets real unfunny real quick.

And like, I mean no harm inserting Bella into the greens ship. I'm just trying to get my baby some action as well, but she is so broken. Like "don't girl, you bringing too much to the party!"

Buttercups rationally crying over her relationship with Mitch at her, age, meanwhile, I gotta have Bella fighting a whole damn lucifer just so that she can shed a tear.

BUT THATS WHAT I MEAN. WHY IS SHE SO EDGY AND HOW DO I LESSEN THE INTENSITY OF IT???

I want her to be likeable, so I try not to make her too much of a brat? Like she's a definite "not like other girls" trope going around skating and only wearing baggy pants and hoodies and smoking weed and ISNT SHE SO COOL BUTCH? DATE HER. I DARE YOU.

I dare you to break Buttercups heart bitch 🔪

Woah.

Maybe... I'm Bella.

So i like inserting my problem child into the fic but there's an issue. She's got bad communication skwills 🥺👉👈

And- and... like... she wants to tell Butch, she think he's hot but what if he doesn't reciprocate it? Because like, they've built this weird friendship where she'll literally say shit like, "ha, yeah, if I had a [REDACTED] I'd [REDACTED] with Butch😏" and he'd be like "LOLOLOL this chick is so funny, where did you find her Buttercup?" And Buttercup is like "😐❗️😬‼️🤨⁉️"

And then I always imagine Butch and Bella just go on and in with the sex jokes, but let's be for real, how many pervy jokes is a guy gonna take from a girl before he eventually goes

1.

The answer is 1.

Thats all it takes lads. Is 1 joke.

Especially if we're talking about Butch. Butch is so much of a meat head he'd immediately assume Bella has the hots for him and HE'D BE ABSOLUTELY CORRECT.

But since I like to pad shit out Butch is "none the wiser" and eventually he's like "wHaT!?!?! bElLa'S gOt a cRuSh oN mE!?!?!"

And then he'd go fuck around with Buttercup because that's just the way the story goes.

So high, and dry, Bella is basically this meme

And then she starts avoiding her friends cause "I doNt wAnnA gEt betWeEn whAt theY'Ve GoT 👉👈"

And I imagine she tries one last time with Butch. She asks him to prom.

NOW I DONT KNOW WHERE MTH IS GOING, but I hope the greens go to prom 💚💛💚💛💚💛BUT IF THEY DO THAT WOULD BE SO FUCKeD UP IN MY AU LMAO.

Because you see, Bella would try to ask Butch as like, a last time thing, and he'd be like "no, prom is lame. I hated going with amy." And she'd be like "haha you're right."

And then because I don't want to take out any parts of the story I'd definitely want to keep the greens going to prom but then Bella, oh boy. Bella would be cruuuuushed.

So long story short, Bella does not belong in mth even though I work passionately to shoehorn her in there. :D

[ladybirdvariant]

A very aggressive Hiiii

Sooo

I go by El on here

Currently 14 (Ik I'm the stereotypical 14 year old teenage girl who writes fan-fiction I find it hilarious)

She/Her

I'm an Aquarius

ENTP⋆VLEF⋆3w2 (Don't know anything about typology my cousin just asked me some questions and gave me that information lmao)

Don't even know what fandoms I'm a part of anymore like it can go anywhere from classical literature to Glee. Basically I've watched the majority of mainstream shows and read the majority of YA/popular fiction books. Anyway I'll post mostly marauders on here bc like I love that fandom

If you can make a claim on a ship/head-cannon and defend it appropriately I will most probably become obsessed with it

I write fics and I do visual art but like art is bugging me rn so I'll probably just post fics, speaking of which here are some that I've written:

A One of Us is Lying AU, basically the marauders trying to solve various crimes in their small costal town, and that's the fic I'm working on the most rn it's so close to my heart I love it, closest I will ever get to writing a scream au (idk I just can't see how that would translate to words from screen, if anyone's read/written one id read tf out of it)

This is a Fault In Our Stars Alicissa AU, for those of you who aren't familiar to the book it's about two childhood cancer survivors falling in love, it's so dear to my heart and I yearn to finish it (I will finish it eventually)

So this one is Mary and Regulus teaming up to find a spy in the order ranks, I love the concept but like I wrote it and then sort of forgot about it and now my writing feels like it's evolved and changed a lot, but I want to get to it again, even if it means rewriting the first few chapters

This was meant to be a long Mary cannon compliant fic but like it didn't really get much attention and ik it's unhealthy but external validation is my only motivator atp

SO MAYBE IM THE ABSENT FATHER OF FANFICS

No but like actually rn I'm focusing all my attention on About That, then I'd ideally finish Great Or Nothing and then like either try to salvage one of the Mary fics or write something new.

Anywayyy if you read any of my fics make sure to read the content warnings because like I'm the edgy kid in English class who would write extremely concerning short stories with like gory and existential content and have my mum called in grown up

I love interacting with fandom ppl so I really appreciate comments and the like

That's it

[sunmoonjune]

okay sheesh i’ve been gone for too long exams took up too much of my time why did i chose to be a woman in STEM and god knows if i’ll even pass but 😭 I FINALLY GOT TO READ THE NEW (not so new) LTM UPDATE

a little late but late is better than never no?

FIRST THINGS FIRST i love your writing so much ik i mention this like everytime i send anything but your writing is genuinely mesmerising and i have to re read almost every line because you could rival shakespeare your writing in fact would make him jealous he would literally plagiarise you in fact he would wishe he could write that good if he was still alive!!!

the way yunho is so considerate and knows all of bugs ticks and how she’ll feel 😭😭 the one thin blanket so she doesn’t feel suffocated I CANT he’s so sweet give him not one but TWO kithes!!

and jongho being so caring and keeping watch and taking care of bug his love language is literally acts of service and he is servicing his acts!! big protector boss!! and the little forehead bump was so cute when he blushed when bug held his hand back AND HE CALLED HER LOVE >{^]!|$~! i’m literally gripping my hair rn

BUT BUGS DEVELOPMENT she’s sleeping soundly next to them which means she feels SAFE! and COMFORTABLE! but also the fact that it’s been one year omg that’s their baby that’s literally their baby

NOW HONGJOONG!! the long awaited bugjoong moment hath arrived!! the way he was on her left side so she’d see him instantly and not get scared,,,, the way he was so gentle in waking her up tapping the floor??? him bringing the mattress AND TELLING HER TO SIT BACK DOWN? she was sat instantly like girl me too tf

WE GOT A NEW SIGNED NAME AND ITS MY HONGJOONG!!! she called him HOME!!! and he HUGGED GER AND SHE THINKS SHE LIKES HUGS (girl me too) it’s over for me i’m gone im literally gone bye bye

AND THEN HIS STORYYYYY JOONGS BACKGROUND STORYYYYY him and bug deserved so much better im sat here crying :( but he was being so comforting of bug he was thinking about her mostly when telling his story he needs all the kithes in the world

and then woosan creeping and staring at bugjoong that’s literally all the readers creeping in on bug and her moments with all the ateez members staring like o_o

they’re so snuggly wtf i wanna be there too

anyways as per usual you absolutely DEVOURED THAT it was astronomical im gonna have to re read a couple times now again ‘‘twas too much for me

make sure you take care of yourself MWAH !!

- 📚

📚 anon I've missed you <33

gosh babes I totally understand the struggles of being a woman in STEM :")) it's a rough journey but you'll make it! I'm proud of you :D <3

omg omg omg better than Shakespeare??? No way I love you so much omfg <3 thank you thank you <33 that entire paragraph literally had me screaming crying throwing up :'D

yun is SO sweet and he knows his bug SO well :"] he takes such good care of her fr,, def deserves kisses and hugs <33

jongho's love languages are DEF acts of service <33 he just wants to take care of his partners and keep them safe <3 his lil forehead bump with yun was so cute too xD

also shoutout to 🪷 anon for helping me decide what nickname jongho would call bug xD I struggled for SO long and 'love' was mostly their idea hehe

THAT'S THEIR BABY <33 BUG IS ATEEZ'S BABY <33333

HONGJOONG <3 he was SO worried about bug and didn't want to frighten her even though he wanted to speak to her SO bad :') ALSO bug ogling joong's muscles while he brought over the mattress, so true of you babe xD

her home <33 the founder of ateez and the founder of her home <33

and joong's backstory :"(( they were clinging to each other and confronting each other the whole way through <3

woosan watching them snuggle was so cute xD they were blushing and kicking their feet fr :}

hehe I'm so so glad you enjoyed the update my dear <33 thank you again for your lovely review :D I enjoy them every single time <33 take care of yourself as well <33 kiss kiss <3

[norikuna]

user cuntyji fic post so you know what that means! buckle up 😫

sukuna and reader's meeting was sauuuur cute don't even joke. 'just be my girl already' well i'm sat straight up!!!!! sukuna trying to keep his bad boy image while living his pookie scenario out in his head. they've never had a bad track i fear

i love all the details in your fics, every character feels so lived into each story. not like...placeholders if that makes sense. like its so NATURAL and flows so well...like the settings, the descriptions, and the ambience feel so natural. the details about sukuna's room really makes his characterisation stand out sooooo well.

just know that u write so well that it had me tweaking out and yearning for a man i know...sat up straight and realised that i have actually have feelings for someone (this is quite crazy bc i think i've been in denial for years) enough on this one, lets move onnnnnnn but i'm telling u my smile dropped when i was reading the part abt sukuna being in his room/on tiktok/remembering his girlfriend. like life was no longer funny i was floored....FAWK i like a man.....this is a compliment to u tho, u just write that good!!!!!!!!

YUUJI CAMEO MY GOATTTTT (i say this literally all the time im crying)

gojo's promposal i was genuinely giggling...he needs to move over tho like he ain't all that...i need to ask suguru geto to prom actually 😭

me being 'girls crying harder'...

toji being written as down bad is so fucking funny, there's one braincell rattling around in there and its romantically determined to bag a baddie...mamaguro we love u!!!

IN TEARS. naobito zenin clicking suscribe + like as we speak!!!!

i love uraume so bad. need their number.........

need to know why nanami is reading vogue helloooooooo thats my king!!!!!!! 🫡

sukuna is so real bc why the FAWK are flowers so so expensive.

i'm crying bc the one thing a man will do is fumble

reader's personality is so cute. i love how her room and sukuna's rooms are SO different but there's still hints of each other in their respective rooms

NOOOOO the face i made when reader heard others bitching abt sukuna stringing her along 'apparently' in the bathroom i was literally devastated!!! don't listen to them!!!!! he loves u i promiseeeeee

sukuna commenting fire emojis, hes lucky he's got looks on his side because god knows he wasn't blessed with common sense 😭

SLAY. he made up for it!!!!!! #wanthimsobad

THE PROMPOSAL i haven't felt this emotion since i watched 10 things i hate about you for the first time. fawking gaggggggged and cheesin

how tf did yuuji get into prom, love that for him tho! <33

the ending i actually cried a little

u ever read a fic so fucking good that u believe in love and light once more. reading it literally put me in a good mood, made me a #lovergirl #gonnatexthimnow <3333333 sooo beautiful and captured the ups and downs of youth and young love im so obsessed!!!!!

CUPID'S DUMBEST SOLIDER ౨ৎ RYOMEN SUKUNA X READER

summary: ryomen sukuna, king of the school and reigning bad boy extraordinaire, has one rule: prom is for losers. but apparently, his too-good-to-be-true girlfriend (seriously, what are you doing with him?) thinks promposals are cute. so now he’s stuck planning the most over-the-top, cringe-inducing spectacle known to mankind. armed with zero artistic talent, a ton of misplaced confidence, and multiple dumb ideas, sukuna’s on a mission to prove that he’s boyfriend material. will he survive the humiliation of public vulnerability? will his classmates ever stop laughing at him? and more importantly, will you even say yes after watching him trip over his own ego mid-promposal? spoiler alert: sukuna might hate prom, but he doesn’t hate you — just don’t tell anyone or his bad boy reputation is toast.

warnings & tags: all characters except yuuji are high-schoolers [aged eighteen]. 100% sfw and crack. lots of high-school and social media related drama. sukuna is ooc but he's a loverboy. slight angst, misccommunication and misunderstanding, reader gets bullied. mentions of drugs & vaping. reader is sort of preppy [only when compared to sukuna], implied stsg and tomema. mentions of: yuuji, choso, gojo, geto, shoko, nanami, toji (zenin), naoya, yorozu, mei mei, uraume, mamaguro, wasuke itadori, mai and maki zenin.

a/n: i'm writing this because i'm thinking about my last year of highschool a lot. please enjoy <3

‼️i recommend reading on ao3 :) thank you for being here!

chapter one: love at first “you’re kidding, right?”

prom sucks. 

sukuna's decided this long before he even knew what it was, back when he was a kid and thought dances were just for the weak. now? the banners are inescapable, plastered on every wall like wanted posters, except the only crime being committed is how much glitter they used. seriously, who thought this level of sparkle was necessary? he doesn’t even want to look at them, let alone read the overly enthusiastic “prom countdown” in bold bubble letters.

but here’s the kicker—you’re excited. 

you. his girlfriend. the only person he’s ever willingly given his jersey to, the one he pretends not to care about but secretly loses his mind if you’re even five minutes late to meet him after practice. you’re actually grinning at the posters, casually mentioning how it might be “fun.”

fun. the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth, much like the time he accidentally puffed on his teammate’s fruit-flavored vape, pretending he didn’t low-key enjoy it. and now, just like back then, sukuna refuses to admit the truth: the idea of seeing you all dressed up, looking at him like he’s worth more than a fistfight and a bad attitude, is enough to make his brain short-circuit.

“you know,” you say one day, glancing over your shoulder at him as you tug on his sleeve. “prom doesn’t have to be a big deal. it’s just one night.”

“then why’s everyone acting like it’s the olympics?” he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. he keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, not on the way your smile softens like you already know what’s going on in his head.

because of course you know. you always know. it’s annoying.

but the thing is, sukuna’s always been a fighter. he knows how to take a hit, how to deliver one back, how to keep moving even when his ribs feel like they’re cracking under the pressure. this, though? asking you to prom? it feels like trying to fight blindfolded in a ring full of glitter bombs.

“you’re thinking too hard about it,” you tease, leaning closer, and he has to resist the urge to snap back with something sarcastic. instead, he just grumbles something incoherent, hoping you’ll drop the subject.

spoiler: you don’t.

“come on, it might surprise you,” you add, giving him that look—the one that makes his chest feel annoyingly tight and his brain feel like it’s melting. and just like that, sukuna knows he’s doomed. he doesn’t even know how you managed to turn this whole thing around, but here he is, contemplating how to ask you to prom like it’s some epic quest.

but for now? he’ll just keep glaring at the posters, convincing himself it’s all for you. definitely not because he’s secretly imagining what it’d be like to see you under those stupid lights.

yeah. that’s it. it’s for you.

why is sukuna losing his absolute mind over asking you, of all people, to prom? it’s not like you’re some untouchable deity perched on a golden throne. you’re just you—the one person who’s seen him shirtless and sweaty post-practice and didn’t immediately gag. the one who has the audacity to call him “cute” after he’s just finished smashing someone’s face in and honestly? he still hasn’t forgiven you for that.

and yet, here he is, spiraling like a damn teenager—which, fine, he technically is, but that’s beside the point. this isn’t just prom. this is war. but why does it feel like he’s already lost?

he doesn’t even know when this whole “you and him” thing started. 

oh wait. yes, he does.

cue the flashback: sukuna, bloody and bruised, crouched in an alley after picking a fight with college kids who were built like linebackers. he was sure this was it. the end. game over. then suddenly, you appeared, haloed by the sun.

or maybe that was just his swelling eye playing tricks on him.

“are you seriously bleeding again?” you’d said, hands on your hips like you were scolding a toddler who’d colored on the walls. you looked so annoyed, so unimpressed, so... angelic? he doesn’t know. blame the blood loss.

“what’s it to you?” he’d snarled, expecting you to walk away like everyone else. but instead, you crouched down, pulled out a first-aid kit from god-knows-where, and patched him up right there. like some feral stray, he’d just sat there and let you.

and then, because subtlety is not in sukuna’s vocabulary, he’d yelled at you a few weeks later to “just be my girl already,” fully prepared for rejection. except you’d said yes. casually. like it was no big deal.

liar. it was a huge deal. he’d wanted to cheer so loud they’d hear him across town. instead, he’d just grunted and said, “fine,” as if he hadn’t just won the lottery.

now, here’s the thing: sukuna doesn’t “do” feelings. or labels. or mushy crap like this. but somehow, you’ve made it your personal mission to take care of him, and the worst part? he lets you.

so, yeah, obviously he needs to “man up” and ask you to prom before some other idiot gets the idea. the thought of someone else—someone less deserving—getting to stand next to you in those ridiculous photos everyone takes? absolutely not.

but how is he supposed to ask you?

“hey, wanna go to prom?” no. too boring.

“you and me. prom. be there.” god, no. too aggressive.

“i’ll fight anyone who tries to take you if you say yes.” okay, maybe, but he doesn’t want to scare you.

and what if you say no? …no, scratch that. you wouldn’t. right?

“why do you look constipated?” your voice pulls him out of his internal chaos, and he realizes he’s been frowning so hard his face hurts. 

“shut up,” he grumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets. you just laugh, that soft little sound that makes his chest feel annoyingly warm. “you’re so silly sometimes.”

silly? silly? sukuna’s this close to snapping back, but he bites his tongue. for now. he’ll figure it out. eventually. probably. 

unless someone else beats him to it.

nope. not happening. over his dead body.

chapter two: swipe, stress, repeat

if sukuna from a month ago could see sukuna right now, he'd be frothing at the mouth. the self-proclaimed king of school, the untouchable badass who spent his time punching people and skipping class, reduced to lying in his bed, phone clutched in hand, scrolling through tiktok like some lovesick idiot? 

embarrassing. absolutely humiliating. 

the guy would’ve torn his own future self apart, verbally and probably physically, for this kind of behavior. but present-day sukuna? he couldn’t care less. if past sukuna had a problem, he could take it up with the tiktok algorithm because, damn it, he was busy right now.

sukuna's room is peak sukuna. the walls are painted a deep gray—an edgy, brooding shade that screams “it’s not a phase mom,” and yet the color somehow sets off the aggressively pink hello kitty lamp on his bedside table. don’t ask why he has it. it’s your fault, anyway, since you bought it for him, and when he told you he wouldn’t use it, you pouted. now the damn thing stays on every night. 

his bed is a mess of black sheets, crumpled in a way that suggests he both sleeps like a starfish and fights imaginary enemies in his dreams. the single poster above his bed is of some obscure underground metal band you probably pretend to care about when he rants, but the corner is peeling because he’s too lazy to fix it. 

on the desk? chaos. protein powder tubs, half-used cologne bottles, random dumbbells, and a notebook that’s only ever been opened once—probably because he mistook it for a coaster. nestled among this battlefield of masculinity is his phone charger, tangled in a knot that somehow feels symbolic of his life choices.

but let’s talk about the tiktok doom scrolling session. sprawled on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, sukuna clears out his notifications, which are predictably 90% you tagging him in ridiculous couple reels. “this is us <3,” you captioned one, featuring two lopsided cartoon bananas cuddling. another one? a video of raccoons stealing food with the words “me and you robbing mcdonald’s after your practice :3” plastered over it. he groans loudly but still clicks the tag, because god forbid he misses one.

and then he sees it: the initials trend. he stumbles across a video with the letters r + your initial floating on-screen, surrounded by sparkly hearts. it takes him a solid two tries, but when the stupid thing finally lands on the right combination, sukuna practically slams the save button. the smug grin on his face could rival the one he wears after winning a fight. “got it,” he mutters to himself, as if he’s achieved something monumental. and maybe he has—because nothing screams romance like a tiktok filter confirming your undying love. his phone buzzes again, and it’s you, sending yet another video. he opens it, and it’s a clip of two fat seals flopping in the water together. “this is us,” you text, followed by a string of hearts. sukuna lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “you’re so dumb,” he mutters, even as he saves the video.

but tonight, sukuna is a man on a mission. a stupid mission, in his humble opinion, but one he’s reluctantly accepted because of you.

his night started the same as it always does lately—on call with you while you go through your nightly skincare routine. he pretends not to care, half-listening as you ramble about serums and exfoliators, but if anyone asked why he knows the difference between niacinamide and retinol now, he’d deny it with his whole chest. “okay, goodnight,” you say eventually, and he feels weirdly warm when you pause, waiting for his reply. “yeah, yeah. goodnight,” he mutters, then sends you a five-line-long text he drafts with the precision of a tactical operation. it’s disgustingly sweet, full of things so cheesy he could probably use it as a weapon in a fight. 

of course, he ends it with a selfie—him lying on his bed, shirtless but casual, because he knows you eat up this couple-y nonsense. “cute,” you reply immediately, followed by a flurry of heart emojis that make him roll his eyes and grin at the same time. with that out of the way, it’s doom scrolling time. 

but tonight isn’t about your endless tags of raccoon memes or seal videos. no, tonight, sukuna is diving into the depths of promposal content.

his room is dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of his phone and the offensively pink hello kitty lamp on his bedside table. the contrast between the lamp and his deep gray walls is glaring, but he’s gotten used to it—he even mumbles a “thanks, kitty” when he turns it off at night. sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by a haphazard array of items—a half-empty protein shake, a stray dumbbell, and a random sock he’s too lazy to find the pair for—he scrolls through tiktok like a man possessed. 

promposals flood his feed, one after the other, and his frown deepens with every video. flowers, posters, confetti—it’s all the same. one boy after another holding a sparkly sign with some cheesy pickup line, and a group of random bystanders shrieking like it’s the second coming of christ. “yuck,” he mutters under his breath, barely noticing when he tosses his dumbbell off the bed with a loud thud! “this is how people live? pathetic.”

then he sees it: a video of a guy holding a giant poster that reads, “are you a parking ticket? because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

sukuna’s jaw drops. “oh, hell no.”

without thinking, he types out a comment: “i can do better.” and when the notifications flood in from strangers defending the boy’s cringe-worthy effort, he actually guffaws, shaking his head in sadistic satisfaction. but then a thought strikes him. what if this is what you expect? what if you want the cheesy pickup line, the sparkly poster, the ridiculous crowd cheering you on? the idea makes him physically recoil, but he can’t ignore the tiny voice in his head whispering, it’s for her.

and when he exits tiktok, his matching hello kitty profile picture with you stares back at him, painfully cute and obnoxiously pink. it’s a sharp contrast to the guy who spent ten minutes this morning threatening his neighbor’s dog for barking too much.

groaning, he sets an alarm on his phone for tomorrow morning. “five hours of sleep,” he mutters to himself, glaring at the clock like it’s personally offended him. with a dramatic sigh, he reaches over and switches off the hello kitty lamp. the room plunges into darkness, but his mind is already racing, plotting ways to outdo every cringe-worthy promposal he’s seen.

you’d better appreciate this, he thinks, punching his pillow into shape before flopping onto it. because if sukuna’s doing this, he’s going to do it better than anyone else.

—

the next day, sukuna wakes up with the vague hope that he’ll somehow embody the effortlessly cool energy of those coming-of-age movie protagonists you seem to fawn over. the universe, however, has other plans. his “cool boy” morning routine includes stubbing his toe on the corner of his bed, swearing loudly enough to make the neighbor’s dog bark, and grabbing a shampoo bottle to wash his face before realizing, mid-lather, that something isn’t right.

by the time he’s dressed in a ratty old lakers jersey his mom gave him ages ago (that’s definitely seen better days), he’s already on edge. he triple-checks that the beaded bracelet you made him is securely on his wrist. one time, he forgot it in the abyss of his bag, and you didn’t talk to him for all of lunch period. the memory alone makes him shudder. high school relationships are no joke; he’s convinced they’re scarier than any fight he’s been in. “yuuji!” he bellows, dragging his seven-year-old brother by the scruff of his neck like a misbehaving cat. “we’re gonna miss the bus!”

“but i’m watching powaaaaa rangerrrrsssss!” yuuji wails, kicking his legs in protest. for the fifth time. in a row.

“i don’t care if they’re morphin’ again for the hundredth time,” sukuna snaps, hauling the squirming kid out the door.

once on the school bus, sukuna practically shoves yuuji into the front seat with his group of loud, chaotic little friends—toge, the broody one, and nobara, the one who’s probably already plotting world domination. “don’t cause trouble,” he growls, earning a cheeky grin from nobara and a half-hearted glare from toge. then, sukuna retreats to his rightful throne in the backseat. people probably think he’s texting some gang leader to set up a fight or maybe coordinating a weed deal. but no. you know what he’s actually doing?

writing you the sappiest good morning text imaginable.

with his phone held at a suspicious angle, he types furiously:

good mornin sunshine ❤️❤️❤️ sorry this is late. woke up thinking about you and totally forgot how to function lol. you’re probably already looking perfect but don’t forget to eat breakfast okay???? can’t have my girl passing out and making me look bad 😏. also did i ever tell you your bedhead is cute? bc it is. anyway have a good day baby i’ll see you in school soon. love you.

he stares at it, debating whether it’s too much. but then again, you’re the type who sends him texts like, “did you know sharks existed before trees? good morning !! <3 :3” so he figures he’s safe. after hitting send, he leans back with a satisfied smirk, like he’s just conquered the world. if anyone dares to ask, he’ll lie through his teeth about what he’s doing. but deep down, sukuna knows he’s whipped. totally and utterly.

—

sukuna’s morning ritual of chaos continues as he practically shoves yuuji toward the elementary school section, muttering curses under his breath while dodging questions about his bracelet.

“but when can i get tattoos like yours?” yuuji asks, for the millionth time this week.

“never,” sukuna snaps, ruffling yuuji’s hair just hard enough to mess it up.

“but why nooottt?” yuuji whines, pouting. “they’re cool! toge said they make you look like a bad guy!”

“tell toge to mind his own damn business,” sukuna growls, ignoring the way yuuji’s tiny friends scatter at the mere sight of him. when one of the kids starts crying, he scoffs loudly. elementary schoolers are weak.

with yuuji safely deposited, sukuna sprints—yes, sprints—to the high school section, expertly weaving through crowds of students. if anyone asks, he’ll say it’s because he’s late to class, but really, he’s looking for you.

when he spots you at your locker, a familiar warmth floods his chest, but he quickly shoves it down, replacing it with a carefully practiced scowl. if sukuna could have it his way, he’d profess his undying love for you in the most dramatic way possible—on his knees, quoting some shakespeare nonsense about your ethereal beauty or whatever the old dead guy used to write about. but alas, his bad boy reputation is at stake. 

so instead, he settles for a gruff, “yo,” as he leans against the locker next to yours, arms crossed, trying to look casual. you glance up, smiling brightly. “morning! did you sleep okay?”

“yeah,” he lies, conveniently forgetting the part where he only got five hours of sleep because of tiktok research.

you go on, oblivious to the way he’s fighting the urge to smile like an idiot. “ugghhh, i got up five minutes late today. five whole minutes!” you pause dramatically. “so i didn’t have time to pack my stationery, and now i have to use my backup stationery pouch from my locker. do you know how annoying that is?”

“devastating,” sukuna deadpans, nodding solemnly. “truly, the world is cruel.”

“right?” you huff, pulling the pouch from your locker. “like, what if the backup doesn’t have my favorite pens? what am i supposed to do then?”

he watches you, amused, as you rummage through your locker like your life depends on it. secretly, he loves how animated you get over the smallest things, but god forbid anyone else find out. “wish i had backups,” he mutters, half to himself. “my locker’s just got junk. extra shoes, pants, a charger, and, uh…” he pauses, eyeing you carefully. “a vape.”

you turn to him, raising an eyebrow. “a vape?”

“it’s not mine,” he says quickly, standing straighter. “holding it for a friend.”

“sure,” you tease, smirking. “it’s true!” he insists, trying to look indignant but failing because you’re smiling at him, and it’s making his brain short-circuit.

as you shut your locker, you start rambling about your next class, and sukuna does what he does best—stands close, nods occasionally, and tries to act nonchalant. inside, though, he’s cataloging every word you say like it’s gospel, marveling at how even your complaints sound cute. he stuffs his hands in his pockets, pretending not to care, but the truth is written all over his face: sukuna is hopelessly, ridiculously in love. and it’s a problem he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

as you and sukuna make your way down the hallway, everything seems normal—or as normal as a high school hallway can get. the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, lockers slam shut, and a cluster of juniors are trying to tape a "kick me" sign to someone’s back. sukuna’s tuned most of it out, but that’s when the universe decides to test his patience. smack dab in the middle of the hallway, it happens.

“oh my god!” you squeal, tugging on sukuna’s sleeve.

he already hates this.

in front of you both, a whole crowd has gathered. there are girls crying into their hands, boys hooting like it’s a football game, and teachers yelling about how this is a fire hazard, which no one is listening to. and at the epicenter of it all is none other than gojo satoru.

“suguru!” gojo announces, holding up a bucket of kfc chicken in one hand and a bouquet of roses made entirely out of dollar bills in the other. “you’re the butter to my biscuit, the drumstick to my chicken, and the love of my life! if you don’t go to prom with me, i’ll throw myself into oncoming traffic!”

“oh my god, he’s so dramatic,” you whisper to sukuna, but your voice is dripping with excitement. “this is adorable!” sukuna blinks at the scene, trying to process what’s happening. “adorable? this is a migraine waiting to happen.”

meanwhile, geto—poor, unsuspecting geto—is standing there looking like he’s debating whether to run or laugh. “satoru, what the hell?” he finally manages, his voice somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“it’s love, suguru!” gojo declares, dropping to one knee for added effect. “say yes, or i’ll never recover!”

“that’s definitely not true,” sukuna mutters under his breath.

“shh!” you scold, hitting his arm lightly. “this is so cute!”

“it’s cringe,” sukuna grumbles. “he’s holding chicken.”

“the chicken makes it better!”

“the chicken makes it worse,” sukuna counters, crossing his arms. but he can’t deny that the bouquet of dollar bills is kind of genius. if he had to respect one thing, it’s that. geto sighs loudly, clearly resigned to his fate. 

“fine,” he says, shaking his head but unable to hide the small smile on his face. “i’ll go to prom with you, satoru.”

the hallway erupts.

girls start crying harder, like their hearts have been ripped out of their chests. “geto’s off the market!” one of them wails, collapsing into her friend’s arms. the boys cheer, probably just glad they don’t have to be involved in anything like this. and gojo? gojo lets out a triumphant yell, pumping his fist in the air. “i told you he loves me!” their friend group immediately piles on, clapping geto on the back and hyping up gojo like he just won the lottery. you, meanwhile, are clutching sukuna’s arm and bouncing on your toes. “oh my god, that was so cute!” you gush. “did you see the chicken? and the bouquet? sukuna, that was so sweet!”

sukuna looks at you, then at the chaos, then back at you. he feels a headache creeping in. “sweet? that was... loud.”

“you’re impossible,” you say, laughing as you let go of his arm to keep walking.

but sukuna isn’t laughing. oh no, because now there’s a new problem: he has to top that. as he follows you down the hallway, he rubs his temples, muttering to himself. “chicken and dollar bills. great. what’s next? fireworks? a live band? a damn parade?”

you glance back at him, raising an eyebrow. “what are you mumbling about?”

“nothing,” he snaps, quickening his pace to catch up.

but inside, he’s panicking. topping gojo satoru’s level of absurdity is a tall order, and sukuna isn’t sure whether to be pissed off or impressed. probably both. one thing’s for sure, though: he has his work cut out for him.

sukuna finally wades through the chaos of the hallway—largely composed of gojo clinging to geto’s foot like a very loud termite—and drops you off at your first class of the day: english language and literature. you sigh dramatically, digging through your bag and muttering about how your lack of highlighters is basically a crime against academia. “how am i supposed to annotate macbeth without my stationary pouch?”

sukuna, leaning against your desk with all the casual confidence in the world, rolls his eyes. “it’s not that deep.” but then, in a move that makes you freeze, he pulls a neon highlighter out of his pocket and tosses it to you. “use that,” he grunts, like he just handed you a scrap of paper, not an intimate act of love. 

you blink at the highlighter, then at him, like he just gifted you the moon. “did you just—where did you even get this?”

“don’t ask questions,” he snaps, already looking like he regrets the decision. (he definitely stole it from someone’s pouch months ago.) but you’re staring at him with so much adoration it’s almost embarrassing. 

“this is... this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for me.”

sukuna freezes. “you’re joking.”

“i’m not joking.”

he looks like he’s questioning every life choice that brought him here, but before he can respond, his phone buzzes in his pocket. it’s a text from toji zenin. the message is cryptic and infuriatingly vague: “grounds. now.”

sukuna sighs loudly, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “gotta go,” he mutters. he leans down and plants a quick kiss on your cheek before bolting out the door, and you both freeze for half a second, equally flustered. “uh—bye!” you call after him as he practically sprints out of the classroom, the beads on his bracelet jingling against his wrist.

by the time sukuna reaches the school grounds, he’s already mentally prepared for a fight. he’s even got his tough guy face on—jaw clenched, shoulders squared, the works.

but when he spots toji zenin and shiu kong standing by the bleachers, something feels off. toji isn’t cracking his knuckles or smirking like usual. instead, he’s pacing, running a hand through his hair like he’s stressed. 

sukuna narrows his eyes. “what the hell is this? if this is another one of your stupid pranks, i’m decking you both.”

“relax,” toji says, holding up his hands. “i’m not here to fight.”

“yet,” shiu mutters, earning a glare from toji. sukuna crosses his arms. “then what do you want?”

toji looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is listening. then, in a voice so low sukuna almost doesn’t hear it, he says, “i need your help.”

sukuna blinks. “what?”

“you heard me.”

“no, i definitely didn’t. because it sounded like you said you need my help.”

“i did.” toji looks like admitting it physically hurts him. “look, it’s about fushiguro.”

sukuna raises an eyebrow. “who?”

“you know, my... my...” he gestures vaguely. “crush.”

sukuna stares at him. “you dragged me out here to talk about your love life?”

toji groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “listen, it’s not that simple. i need your help to... to bully her.”

“...what?”

“bully her,” toji repeats, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “you know, make her life miserable so i can swoop in and save the day. it’s foolproof!” sukuna stares at him for a long moment, trying to process the sheer idiocy of what he just heard. 

“you want me to bully your crush so you can play knight in shining armor?”

“exactly.”

“you’re an idiot.”

“c’mon, sukuna,” toji pleads. “you’re good at the whole intimidation thing! you don’t even have to go hard, just—”

“no.”

“but—”

“no.”

shiu snickers from the sidelines. “told you he wouldn’t do it.” toji glares at him, then turns back to sukuna. “fine. then give me advice or something! how am i supposed to ask her to prom?”

“i don’t know, maybe try not bullying her?”

“wow, thanks for the groundbreaking advice,” toji says, deadpan. sukuna rolls his eyes. “look, just—give her something she likes. flowers, chocolates, whatever. don’t overthink it.”

“flowers? chocolates? what is this, a rom-com?” toji scoffs.

“then figure it out yourself,” sukuna snaps, already turning to leave. “i’ve got better things to do.”

“like what?”

“none of your business.” sukuna snaps, already regretting every second of this interaction.

this is the point where toji is wailing, absolutely wailing, and it’s honestly one of the worst things sukuna’s had to witness, and he once saw yuuji eat spaghetti with his hands. 

“you don’t get it, sukuna!” toji cries, pacing back and forth. “if i don’t get fushiguro—mamaguro, the love of my life—i’ll look like a fool for calling myself toji fushiguro all year! do you know how many people think we’re already married? do you understand the pressure?”

“no,” sukuna deadpans, crossing his arms. “because i’m not insane.”

“this is a matter of marriage or death,” toji insists, dramatic as ever. “marriage! or! death!”

shiu, leaning against the bleachers, snickers. “it’s more like marriage or public humiliation, but yeah, sure, toji. go off.”

“shut up, shiu!” toji snaps. then, in the most embarrassing move yet, he turns back to sukuna, clutching his arm like he’s begging a god for salvation. “please, sukuna. please. i’ll do anything!”

sukuna yanks his arm back with a grimace. “don’t touch me.”

“i’ll pay you,” toji adds, desperate now. “how much do you want?” shiu, ever the opportunist, pulls out a wad of cash from his jacket. “i’ll double whatever you’re thinking.”

sukuna glares at him, then at the money, then back at toji, who’s practically vibrating with nerves. the sheer audacity of these people.

“what do you two think i am?” sukuna growls, stepping closer. “someone you can just buy?”

toji and shiu exchange a look.

“yes,” they say in unison.

“you’re not wrong,” sukuna mutters, snatching the cash out of shiu’s hand.

and that’s how sukuna finds himself storming into the art room, where fushiguro—lovingly dubbed mamaguro by the school fraternity, who is also the unknowing subject of toji’s unhinged obsession—is peacefully painting a landscape. 

“yo,” sukuna calls, making sure his voice sounds just gruff enough to make an impression. mamaguro looks up, confused but polite as ever. “oh, sukuna. what brings you here?”

“uh…” sukuna falters for half a second. then, remembering the script toji forced on him, he clears his throat. “your art sucks.”

mamaguro blinks at him. “excuse me?”

“you heard me,” sukuna says, louder this time. “these clouds? they look like—like… mashed potatoes!”

“mashed potatoes?” she repeats, her tone teetering between disbelief and amusement.

“yeah! and this—this tree? it’s—it’s… ugly!”

he’s running out of insults fast, but thankfully, he doesn’t have to keep going because, right on cue, toji bursts into the room like a man possessed.

“stop right there, sukuna!” toji yells, pointing dramatically.

sukuna rolls his eyes so hard he nearly pulls something.

“how dare you insult her art?” toji continues, marching forward. “you know nothing of the beauty and grace she pours into every stroke of her brush! apologize to her, right now!”

sukuna glances at mamaguro, who’s now staring at toji like he’s grown a second head.

“um…” she starts, clearly confused.

“and not only that,” toji adds, dropping to one knee, “i, toji fushig– i mean, zenin, would be honored if you would accompany me to prom!”

the silence that follows is deafening.

“…what?” mamaguro says, her voice a mix of shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“say yes, please,” toji begs, still on his knee.

sukuna takes this as his cue to leave before his brain cells start dying en masse. as he walks out, he hears a mixture of toji’s frantic pleading, mamaguro’s incredulous laughter, and shiu’s obnoxious whooping from the hallway. “cringe,” sukuna mutters to himself, shoving his hands into his pockets. on the way out, he snatches the rest of the wad of cash from shiu’s hand. the guy doesn’t even protest; he’s too busy recording the whole disaster on his phone.

normally, sukuna would use this cash for something like a new vape or a pack of cigarettes. but now? now he’s a man with a mission. he’s going to use this money for your promposal.

assuming he can think of something. preferably something that doesn’t involve dollar bill bouquets or public humiliation.

as sukuna storms off the art room steps, he’s already thinking of how he could possibly top the circus act he just witnessed. whatever he comes up with has to be cool, low-key, and—most importantly—not the type of thing that makes people point and say, "look at ryomen sukuna doing that." because if there’s one thing sukuna won’t tolerate, it’s losing to toji zenin in a battle of charm.

he stuffs the cash into his pocket, muttering to himself, “this better be worth it.” and by "this," he means putting up with high school drama, helping idiots like toji, and figuring out the best way to ask you to prom without looking like a total sap.

little does he know, shiu is already uploading the footage of toji’s “promposal” disaster onto his burner account with the caption: “zenin family downfall: live footage.” 

and in the back of his mind, sukuna knows one thing for sure—he needs to act fast. whatever he does has to blow everyone away, especially you.

—

sukuna leans against the wall outside the school gates, trying to look as nonchalant as humanly possible despite the fact that his brain is doing cartwheels. his day’s been an absolute dumpster fire—between toji’s soap opera, shiu’s cryptic smirks, and some freshman mistaking him for a guidance counselor (how? how does that even happen?), he’s just about had it. and then, like the climax of one of those rom-coms you force him to watch, you step out of the school building. sukuna swears he hears a choir of angels, some harp strings, and maybe even sees a glowing halo over your head.

but of course, he’s ryomen sukuna, and he’s supposed to be the "bad boy." so instead of saying something poetic like, “you’re the light of my life,” he settles on:

“what the hell took you so long?”

your indignant pout hits him like a sucker punch, and he immediately regrets his choice of words. “excuse me, mister,” you huff, hands on your hips. “i was finishing my community service hours.”

“community service?” sukuna raises a brow. “what’d you do this time? steal a library book? jaywalk?”

you roll your eyes. “not everyone’s a delinquent like you, ‘kuna. i was helping clean up the school garden.”

“right. of course you were.” sukuna mutters, trying to ignore the sharp contrast between the two of you. while you’re out here being a model student with a résumé the size of a textbook, sukuna’s résumé might as well just say “can punch really hard.”

you don’t notice his inner turmoil as you launch into your usual spiel about your packed schedule. “so after that, i had drama club practice, then i’m helping with the fundraiser for the library, and then i have to—”

sukuna zones out for a second, overwhelmed by the sheer productivity radiating off of you. jesus, she’s a walking linkedin profile, he thinks, mentally comparing your extracurriculars to his…well, lack thereof. unless fistfights, bad decisions, and looking hot in leather count as extracurriculars.

“—and next week i’m presenting at the school board meeting!” you finish, beaming.

“you know, some of us don’t have time to kiss ass,” sukuna mutters under his breath, though there’s no malice in it.

“what was that?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, reaching out to grab your hand before he can think too much about it. he gives it a small squeeze, hoping it’ll shut up the voice in his head that’s been nagging him all day. you glance down at your intertwined hands, your expression softening. “you okay?”

“yeah, fine,” sukuna lies, looking away so you don’t catch the slight pink tint creeping up his ears. you let it slide, leaning closer as you walk beside him. “you know, you don’t have to wait for me every day.”

“and let some idiot try to ask you out while i’m not around? yeah, right.”

you laugh, and sukuna feels his chest loosen a little.

“you’re silly,” you say, swinging his hand a little as you walk.

“and you’re too good for me,” sukuna blurts out before he can stop himself. 

you stop in your tracks, blinking up at him. “what?”

“uh—nothing,” he says quickly, his brain screaming at him to shut up. but you don’t let it go. you tighten your grip on his hand and give him a look so sincere it nearly floors him. “sukuna, i like you for you, okay? not for some résumé or checklist or whatever you’re overthinking right now.”

“who says i’m overthinking?”

“your face.”

sukuna scoffs, trying to mask the relief that washes over him. “yeah, well. you’re lucky i like you too.”

you grin, leaning up to kiss his cheek, and sukuna swears he hears those angel singing again. maybe you really are untouchable, he thinks. but then again, you’re holding his hand, choosing him out of everyone else. and maybe that’s what true love is—messy, imperfect, and way too good to be true.

—

sukuna stumbles into his room after the long, exhausting day. his feet drag on the floor as he sheds his jacket, but leaves his shoes on—he's too tired to even care about a single thing right now. his bed looks like a warzone, clothes scattered across the floor in what can only be described as a "i’m a badass" fashion, but anyone who’s seen it knows it’s just laziness masked as chaos.

one of his dumbass bandanas is hanging off the lamp, and his hello kitty nightlight still glows faintly by his desk, casting a strange aura around the room. a vape lies carelessly tossed beside his pillow, some loose change, and a stack of junk food wrappers. he’d never admit it, but there’s a half-open box of chocolate chip cookies on his nightstand because, surprise surprise, he bought it for you earlier but kept it for himself when you weren’t looking.

ryomen sukuna, ladies and gentlemen.

plopping down onto his bed, he lazily scrolls through his phone before flopping down, leaving the screen bright enough to nearly fry his eyes. as if the day wasn’t already overwhelming enough, now he’s doing something even dumber. he opens discord. 

and without thinking twice, sends a message to uraume, the e-friend he’s been talking to for months, mostly while they’ve been playing apex legends. he had no clue how this strange friendship even started, but honestly? uraume was sarcastic, annoying in a way that made him laugh, and didn’t take his “bad boy” persona too seriously. 

he leans back, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, holding the vape in his mouth while scrolling mindlessly through tiktok videos, making mental notes about the stuff you liked—stuff like cheesy couple memes, random boyfriend-girlfriend skits, and, of course, the tiktok videos of couples doing those “promposals.” sighing dramatically, he sends the message to uraume.

kingofcursezz: yo kingofcursezz: how the hell do you ask someone to prom without making it cringey kingofcursezz: help me out bro kingofcursezz: i'm trying to avoid looking like an idiot

he exhales a puff of smoke, irritated with himself for even reaching out to uraume about this. this is beneath him. but the thought of you—and how you’re so sweet, how you deserve the best….

yeah... he can’t screw this up. not now, not after all the effort.

his phone pings with a reply, and sukuna, having put it off for a second, glances down at the screen:

starume666: LOL starume666: are you seriously asking me this?

kingofcursezz: if you don’t help istg i’ll show up with a bucket of chicken and a bouquet of dollar bills. that’s my backup plan so you better give me something good.

he pauses to let out a tired, humorless laugh as he wipes his face. god, he’s not gonna survive this.

starume666: lmaooooo starume666: dude you’re way too hard on yourself starume666: just do smth simple but meaningful  starume666: what’s the thing you know will make her smile?

kingofcursezz: uhhhhhhh kingofcursezz: how about not being a weirdo who doesn’t know what the fuck a promposal is?  kingofcursezz: i’ll be the guy in the background who just buys her flowers and does the bare minimum like some jock that’s been forced into this tradition 💀💀💀💀

starume666: yeah but you’re not a jock bro  starume666: you’re a bad boy 😹 so act like it starume666: maybe do something unexpected n go off-script.

kingofcursezz: i mean ig she’ll like it if i show up in a full suit kingofcursezz: but i don’t have a tux so kingofcursezz: 💀

starume666: i swear if you don’t do this right i’m flying to your school and putting a bucket of kfc on your doorstep starume666: figure out what she likes and then do that. just be honest dude.

kingofcursezz: okok fine kingofcursezz: i’ll show up and do smth kingofcursezz: if you could stop texting me like my mom, that’d be great.

starume666: [reacted 😹 to your message]

sukuna rolls his eyes as the conversation ends, staring at his phone for a long while. he can’t help but think about you and the fact that he might actually care enough to make this promposal thing work. he shakes his head and grins at the absurdity of it all. for you, though? he’ll do anything. even if it means figuring out how to pull off the world’s least embarrassing promposal.

with that, he flicks his vape one last time, sits up, and starts brainstorming—maybe a simple bouquet? or, wait—does she even like roses? the inner turmoil continues, but one thing's for sure: he’s committed to this, for you.

chapter three: flowers are expensive, but regret is worse

sukuna’s day is just one monotonous loop of chaos, like some cruelly predictable high school sitcom. the cycle starts as usual: he drags yuuji, still wailing about his half-finished power rangers episode, onto the bus. the kid still begs for face tattoos, and sukuna swears he’s about to lose his mind if yuuji brings it up again. after that, he waits for you by the school gates like some lovesick loser who’s too proud to admit it, walks you to class, and then spends the rest of his day dodging every cheesy, cringe-worthy promposal happening at every corner.

but today? today, he’s got a mission. because apparently, the hellscape of high school doesn’t just end at promposals. no, the school administration has to rub salt in the wound by charging $20 per ticket for prom. 

$20. per person.

“are they funding a space program or what?” sukuna mutters under his breath as he trudges toward the admin desk, a wad of cash in hand. the admin, of course, isn’t at the desk. instead, gojo satoru is standing there, grinning ear to ear, holding a stack of offensively pink prom tickets. sukuna stops dead in his tracks.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” sukuna grumbles, glaring at gojo. “good morning to you too, sunshine!” gojo chirps, twirling the tickets between his fingers like he’s actually enjoying this. “what are you doing here?” sukuna asks, shoving the cash across the desk with zero ceremony.

“volunteering,” gojo says, batting his lashes as if he’s some kind of saint. “community service, you know? unlike you, i’m giving back to the school.”

“you mean they forced you here after you nearly set the chem lab on fire last month,” sukuna deadpans. gojo gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “how dare you? those were experiments! i’m a man of science, sukuna.”

“you’re a man of stupidity,” sukuna snaps, snatching the two tickets from gojo’s hand before he can start twirling them again. the pink nearly burns his eyes.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” gojo says, leaning over the desk like some smug cat. “you excited for prom? oh wait, let me guess. you’re one of those guys who’s too cool for prom, huh? you’re just going for your girlfriend’s sake, aren’t you? how adorable.” 

sukuna grits his teeth, refusing to give gojo the satisfaction of a response. instead, he grabs the clipboard to sign his name and yours, hastily scrawling the details. “oh, and while you’re at it,” gojo continues, leaning further into sukuna’s personal space, “you should totally sign up for prom king. i mean, look at you. tattoos, brooding face, bad-boy aura. the people would eat it up.”

sukuna freezes, pen hovering over the clipboard. “prom king? really?”

“absolutely!” gojo beams. “and hey, if you win, you’ll get to dance with your queen on stage in front of the whole school. talk about a moment, right?” sukuna scoffs but signs his name anyway. not because of gojo, of course. but because there’s no way in hell he’s letting some random idiot stand next to you on stage as prom king. 

gojo squints at the clipboard, noticing sukuna’s addition. “wait, you’re actually signing up? no way! oh my god, this is going to be epic. i can already see the headlines: ‘bad boy turned prom king—how sukuna stole the crown.’”

“shut up, gojo,” sukuna growls, shoving the clipboard back across the desk. “you got it, your majesty,” gojo smirks, giving a mock bow.

sukuna storms off, tickets in hand, muttering to himself about how much he hates this school. but deep down, he’s already imagining you as prom queen, standing beside him, both of you looking annoyingly perfect.

sukuna’s first instinct when he spots you walking toward him is to shove the glaringly pink prom tickets into his mouth and chew. problem solved. except, knowing his luck, you’d catch him mid-act, choke on the damn thing, and die right there in the middle of the hallway like some bad joke. 

so, instead, he opts for plan b: stuffing the tickets into his shirt. brilliant. considering you’re shorter than him and can’t reach his chest, it’s practically foolproof. he adjusts the tickets awkwardly under his jersey, patting them down like some suspicious drug mule as you get closer. totally suave. totally inconspicuous. 

“hey!” you chirp, completely oblivious to his internal crisis.“yo,” he grunts back, hands jammed into his pockets like they’ve been superglued there. 

you squint at him. “...you okay? you’re standing like you’re hiding a bomb or something.”

“nah, i’m good,” sukuna says quickly, shifting his weight like he suddenly forgot “how to human.”

you tilt your head, but thankfully don’t push it. instead, you start talking about your day—something about a community service meeting and a teacher who forgot their own syllabus—and sukuna does his best to nod and grunt in all the right places. but his mind? it’s running a marathon.

how the hell is he supposed to propose?

the obvious answer is to just...hand you the tickets. easy, straightforward, zero theatrics. you’d say yes, because of course you would—it’s not like you’ve been subtle about dropping hints that you wanted him to ask you. but then he remembers the look on your face every time you watch one of those elaborate promposal videos on tiktok. the way your eyes light up, how you gush about the effort people put in, how cute it is.

and that’s when it hits him like a brick to the face: this isn’t about proving a point to the rest of the school, or even about outdoing gojo’s obnoxious stunt with geto. it’s about you. about making you smile, giving you a moment you’d remember fondly for years. he’s gotta do it right. for you.

but how?

his brain is a war zone of terrible ideas:

buy a giant teddy bear and make it hold the tickets? nah, too cutesy.

write a message in the sky? too broke.

pretend to lose the tickets and ‘find’ them in front of you? too stupid.

he realizes, with a sinking feeling, that this is why he’s been spiraling. because this whole relationship thing? it’s uncharted territory for him. you’re his first relationship, his first everything, and the last thing he wants to do is screw it up.

goddamn it.

you’re still talking when he zones back in, noticing the way you’re looking up at him expectantly. “...so? what do you think?”

“uh,” he says, blinking. “yeah. sounds good.”

“sukuna, i just asked if i should shave my head for charity,” you deadpan.

he stares at you, caught red-handed. “...no?”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, and he feels something in his chest unclench. for now, at least. he’s got until the end of the week to figure this out. totally doable. right?

wrong.

sukuna slumps onto the gym floor after basketball practice, sweat dripping off him like he’s just crawled out of a swamp. he grabs a water bottle, downs half of it, and tosses it aside like he’s starring in a gatorade commercial, all while muttering to himself, “this is a nightmare. i’m surrounded by idiots.”

“what’s the crisis this time, king sukuna?” naoya zenin drawls, leaning against the wall and doing absolutely nothing productive. the guy wouldn’t even break a sweat if his life depended on it, yet somehow he’s always the loudest voice in the room. “none of your business, zenin,” sukuna snaps, trying to ignore the fact that he even brought this up.

“aw, come on,” naoya smirks. “let me guess. girlfriend troubles? did she finally realize you’re all bark and no bite?”

sukuna shoots him a glare that could probably set someone on fire. “i’m trying to plan a prom-posal, dumbass.”

“oh, that’s why you look constipated,” toji pipes up from where he’s sprawled on the bleachers, looking like he’s auditioning for a mattress commercial. “need me to step in? i can bully her a little for you. worked like a charm with my mamaguro.”

“toji, shut the hell up before i make you swallow that smug look,” sukuna growls, though toji just chuckles, completely unfazed. “don’t listen to him,” nanami says, peeling off his sweatbands like he’s had it with everyone’s nonsense. “if you want a genuine suggestion, vogue says simplicity is key. a heartfelt speech, some flowers—”

“you’re reading vogue now?” geto interjects, raising an eyebrow.

“it was for a research paper,” nanami replies, deadpan. “and no, i will not elaborate.”

“you’re all useless,” sukuna groans, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. he turns to geto, the only one who hasn’t actively annoyed him yet. “what about you? you’re practically married to gojo at this point. what worked for you?” geto groans like he’s been asked to relive a traumatic experience. 

“please, don’t remind me. the guy brought kfc and roses made of dollar bills. do you know how many times i’ve had to explain to people that i didn’t say yes because of the chicken?”

“but you still said yes,” toji points out, grinning like the devil himself.

“because he threatened to throw himself into traffic if i didn’t!” geto snaps, throwing his towel at toji’s face. “what was i supposed to do, let him die in front of the school?”

“yes,” sukuna mutters under his breath, earning a snort from nanami.

“look, you’ve got this,” nanami says, attempting to be the voice of reason. “just think about what she’d like. something meaningful. and maybe, just maybe, don’t get advice from this crowd.”

“i hate all of you,” sukuna announces, standing up and grabbing his bag. “but especially you, toji. never speak to me again.”

“love you too, bro,” toji calls out as sukuna stomps out of the gym, muttering curses under his breath. he’s no closer to a plan, but at least he’s 100% sure of one thing—he’s never asking these idiots for help again.

—

sukuna drags himself into the house, tossing his bag onto the floor like it’s personally offended him. the sound echoes through the living room, but yuuji doesn’t even flinch. the kid’s sprawled out on the couch, a juice box in one hand and the tv remote in the other, utterly engrossed in mean girls. “the hell are you watching?” sukuna asks, toeing off his shoes.

“mean girls,” yuuji replies, eyes glued to the screen. “it’s ‘bout some mean girls, duh.”

“you’re seven, yuuji. why are you watching a movie about high school drama?”

“’cause i gotta get ready for high school. duh again.”

sukuna rolls his eyes but stops when he catches the prom scene on the screen. his brows furrow as he watches. could this help? nope. just people dancing and some heartfelt speech about how everyone’s a queen or whatever. useless. he groans and flops onto the armchair, rubbing his temples. out of pure desperation—and because his brain’s running on fumes—he asks, “hey, yuuji, how would you ask someone to prom?”

yuuji pauses the movie and turns to him with the seriousness of a kid about to give the most groundbreaking advice in the universe. “easy! dress like their favorite power ranger.”

“what.”

“and then you go, ‘will you go to prom with me? hiya!’” yuuji does a karate chop for emphasis, nearly spilling his juice. “and if they say no… boom! mass destruckshin.”

“mass what?”

“mass destruckshin!” yuuji repeats, puffing his chest like he’s just dropped the most foolproof plan of the century. “you gotta show them you mean business!” sukuna stares at his brother, wondering if it’s possible to feel both amused and like his life is spiraling out of control at the same time. 

“yeah, no. thanks for nothing, yuuji.”

“you’re welcome!” yuuji chirps, unpausing the movie. “don’t forget to do the hiya part!”

sukuna groans and leans back in the chair. he’s not about to karate chop his way into a promposal. that’s a one-way ticket to you dumping him on the spot. his mom would’ve been a better bet, but she’s probably halfway through her night shift by now—and even if she were here, she’d skip prom entirely and go straight to planning your wedding. he shudders at the thought. not because he doesn’t like the idea of marrying you—hell, the thought of you in a white dress has his brain short-circuiting—but because his mom would absolutely order a three-tier cake before you’d even said yes to a prom date. “get a grip, sukuna,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head. prom first, wedding later. priorities. 

yuuji, oblivious to his brother’s existential crisis, pipes up again. “hey, ‘kuna, if she says no, can i have your power ranger costume?”

“i’m not wearing a damn power ranger costume!” sukuna snaps, chucking a throw pillow at yuuji, who ducks with a laugh.

“okay, okay! fiinnnneee. but if you mess up, can i have your juice money?” sukuna glares at him. “shut up, yuuji.”

“love you too!” yuuji sing-songs, turning back to mean girls like nothing happened. and sukuna? he’s mentally preparing himself for what feels like the most important mission of his entire high school life.

—

sukuna woke up with the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged to a bath. it was the weekend—not the artist, fortunately, but the actual day—and the irony of hearing the weeknd's "reminder" on loop in his brain from all those tiktok promposals wasn’t lost on him. tiktok really had a way of making everything worse, didn’t it? he groaned, rubbing his face as he sat up in bed, his hair a complete mess and his shirt wrinkled from falling asleep in it.

“alright, flowers,” he muttered, standing and grabbing a hoodie off the floor. it was one of those old, oversized ones with some random logo he’d stolen from his cousin choso. paired with his basketball shorts and beat-up sneakers, sukuna looked like he was ready to run errands or rob a gas station—either worked.

the neighborhood was its usual weekend self—kids playing, dogs barking, and aunties gossiping by gates like it was their full-time job. sukuna stuck out like a sore thumb as he wandered from florist to florist, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket, trying not to look like he was about to hold the place up.

his first stop was a quaint little flower shop with pastel walls and a ridiculously cheery name: bloom haven. sukuna stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the overpowering scent of roses and lilies. “good morning!” the florist, a middle-aged woman with a bright smile and an apron covered in flower prints, greeted him. “how can i help you today?”

“uhhh… bouquet?” sukuna said, voice low like he was ashamed to be seen in public buying flowers.

“wonderful! who’s the lucky someone?” she asked, practically sparkling with excitement. “just… someone,” he grumbled, glancing at a bucket of roses. “how much for these?”

“oh, roses are $5 per stem!” she chirped.

sukuna’s brain screeched to a halt. “five bucks? for one flower?”

“they’re premium quality!” she said, as if that justified daylight robbery.

“yeah, premium my ass,” he muttered under his breath, leaving the shop before she could try to sell him anything else.

the next place wasn’t much better. a hipster-owned flower truck parked near a cafe, blasting indie music and decorated with fairy lights. the owner had a man bun and greeted him with, “peace and petals, brother.”

sukuna hated him immediately.

“you got bouquets?” sukuna asked flatly.

“absolutely, bro. we handcraft our arrangements using sustainably sourced—”

“how much?” sukuna interrupted.

“oh, a bouquet starts at $45,” the guy said, like that wasn’t insane.

“forty-five?” sukuna’s voice cracked. “for flowers?”

“yeah, but they come with vibes,” man bun said, gesturing to the arrangements like they were ancient artifacts. sukuna turned on his heel and walked away, muttering, “i’ll give you vibes, idiot.”

by the time he’d hit his fourth florist, his mood was sourer than expired milk. flowers were so stupidly expensive. why did people even like them? they just died after a week. he considered the idea of pulling a tree out of the ground—free, big, dramatic. totally memorable. but then he imagined you looking at him like he’d lost his mind and immediately scrapped the plan.

“what are you even doing, sukuna?” he mumbled to himself, stopping on a street corner to rub his temples. the hoodie wasn’t doing much to hide him from people who were now giving him concerned looks as he stood there, muttering like a lunatic. eventually, he caved and called the only person who might understand his suffering: geto.

“yo,” geto answered, his voice muffled. “what’s up?”

“how the hell do people afford flowers?” sukuna barked into the phone.

“uh, normal people have jobs?” geto replied.

“i have a job,” sukuna snapped. “it’s called surviving high school and taking care of yuuji. do you know how much that little monster eats?”

“okay, calm down,” geto said, laughing. “why are you even buying flowers? is this for her?”

“obviously,” sukuna muttered, lowering his voice like the trees might overhear. “just go to the supermarket,” geto said. “grab some from there. they’re cheaper.”

“supermarket flowers?” sukuna sneered.

“they’re not bad,” geto said. “it’s the thought that counts, right? plus, you’re gonna make up for it with the rest of the promposal, right?”

“...yeah,” sukuna lied, glancing at his empty hands and feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. “good luck,” geto said, clearly trying not to laugh.

“shut up,” sukuna muttered, hanging up and sighing. supermarket it was, then. hopefully, you wouldn’t mind flowers that came with a discount sticker.

on his way to the supermarket, sukuna didn’t plan to get distracted. but there it was—a tuxedo shop with mannequins that practically mocked him, standing tall in their fitted suits. he told himself he’d just peek. just a look. but somehow, sukuna was inside, staring at a rack of tuxedos, his hoodie feeling embarrassingly out of place in the crisp, polished environment. he ran a hand through his hair, eyes landing on a sleek black tuxedo with satin lapels. it was classic, clean, and exactly the kind of thing you’d probably love seeing him in. just try it on. what’s the worst that could happen?

five minutes later, sukuna was glaring at his reflection in the mirror, fumbling with a tie that refused to cooperate. “stupid, overcomplicated—” he grunted, yanking at it so hard he nearly choked himself.

“you’re gonna kill yourself before prom, kid.”

sukuna turned to see a short, older man with a grumpy face and an air of authority that reminded him of a drill sergeant. the man—wasuke, according to his name tag—walked over and snatched the tie out of sukuna’s hands.

“stand still,” wasuke barked.

“i’m not a kid,” sukuna muttered, but he stood still anyway, letting wasuke adjust the tie with the precision of a man who had probably done this a thousand times. “you’re fidgety. just like i was before my prom,” wasuke said, his gruff tone softening slightly. “you nervous about asking someone?”

“...something like that,” sukuna admitted. wasuke grunted, finishing the tie and stepping back. “i was nervous too. didn’t think she’d say yes. but she did.”

“yeah? how’d you ask her?” sukuna asked, genuinely curious despite himself.

“showed up at her house with a dozen carnations, a guitar, and no plan,” wasuke said, chuckling. “played the worst version of wonderwall you’ve ever heard. still don’t know why she said yes, but she did. forty years later, she’s still here.”

sukuna blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity. for a moment, he imagined himself and you forty years from now. he hated how much he liked the thought. “cool story, old man,” sukuna said, brushing it off.

“you’ll figure it out,” wasuke said, patting him on the shoulder. “just don’t overthink it. and maybe don’t strangle yourself with the tie.”

with that, wasuke waddled off, leaving sukuna to face the mirror again. the tux fit perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders and tapering at the waist. the black-on-black look was sharp, especially with the skinny tie wasuke had wrestled into place. he looked...good.

too good, apparently, because he did the dumbest thing imaginable: he pulled out his phone and snapped a mirror selfie. “what am i even doing?” he muttered, staring at the photo. it was too late to stop himself, though—his thumb hit send before his brain could catch up.

the text went to you.

you.

“shit,” sukuna hissed, panic gripping him as he watched the message deliver. seconds later, your name flashed on his screen. video call. “hey!” your voice came through immediately, bright and excited. “are you trying on a tux? lemme see!” sukuna groaned, holding the phone at arm’s length so you could see the tux. “don’t freak out,” he muttered.

“oh my god, you look so good!” you squealed, and sukuna swore he felt his soul leave his body. “is this for prom? are you finally gonna ask me?” 

his heart slammed against his ribs. “uh, no,” he said quickly. too quickly. 

and then, like the coward he was, he hit end call.

he stared at his reflection, his ears burning. “god damn it,” he muttered, yanking the tie loose. wasuke’s voice echoed in his head: you’ll figure it out. “yeah, right,” sukuna muttered, shoving his phone back into his pocket and heading for the fitting room. he wasn’t sure what was worse—your reaction, or his. probably his. definitely his.

—

a hello kitty phone charm dangled from your phone, clinking softly every time you tossed it onto the bed after furiously texting sukuna. you giggled like a maniac, clutching your phone with both hands as his unread replies piled up.

you: omg you’re SO HANDSOME, why didn’t you tell me sooner???!!! you: can’t believe you look THAT good, excuse me while i pass away you: also if you’re dressing like that for prom, consider me yours all over again </33

your fingers flew across the keyboard, unable to stop yourself. there was just something about seeing him all polished up that had you swooning, even if he couldn’t see your reaction. sukuna being flustered? rare. sukuna being flustered and looking that fine? a national treasure.

your room was the perfect mix of chaos and comfort, a little shrine to your personality. fairy lights twinkled around the edges of your room, casting a soft glow over the colorful mess that was your bed—a heap of throw pillows and the softest blanket you refused to part with since middle school. your laptop sat open in front of you, the screen glowing with pinterest boards full of prom dress inspo: sleek satin silhouettes, dreamy tulle gowns, and even some edgy alternatives, because why not keep your options open? stickers covered your laptop’s lid—mostly cute animals, a few doodles of your favorite characters, and a sneaky, ironic skull-and-rose design that reminded you of sukuna.

your room smelled faintly of vanilla candles, the remnants of last night’s study session still lingering in the air. posters of your favorite bands and a few anime characters covered the walls, some slightly crooked but perfectly placed in your eyes. your vanity table overflowed with skincare, hair clips, and makeup products, while a laundry basket overflowed in the corner—a battle you’d deal with later.

you rolled onto your back, phone still clutched in your hand as you refreshed sukuna’s chat. no reply yet. that was fine. you grinned, imagining him struggling to come up with something cool to say.

you: don’t tell me you’re too busy being HOT to reply now 🙂‍↕️😹 you: also hi ily bye 🤭

closing your chat for a moment, you leaned back against your pillows and stared at your laptop screen. prom dress inspo was serious business, and as much as you wanted to keep teasing sukuna, you couldn’t ignore the excitement bubbling in your chest. prom was coming, and with a boyfriend like sukuna, it was going to be perfect—even if he was probably sweating bullets over the whole promposal thing. let him sweat a little longer, you thought with a giggle, clicking on yet another gown that made your heart skip a beat.

chapter four: gossip girls and a guy who can’t communicate

the bathroom was dimly lit, the flickering bulb above one of the stalls doing nothing to make you feel any better. you hadn’t even been planning on overhearing the conversation when you snuck into the last stall, phone in hand, planning to scroll mindlessly through pinterest to distract yourself during the break. but then their voices carried in, sharp and intentional, like knives aimed straight for your heart.

"i mean, can you believe she hasn’t been asked yet?" yorozu’s saccharine tone dripped with malice, her voice echoing off the tiled walls. "like, it’s kind of embarrassing at this point. you’d think someone as clingy as her would’ve forced sukuna to do it by now." 

mei mei let out a low laugh, the kind that made your stomach twist. "maybe he’s just not into her like that. i mean, bad boys don’t exactly do promposals, do they? unless it’s for someone worth the effort."

"exactly," yorozu snickered. "like, if he really cared, she’d have already been bragging about it all over instagram. but nope. maybe he’s keeping his options open? can’t blame him." their laughter cut through the air, and you pressed your hand over your mouth, trying to steady your breathing. your chest felt tight, and for a moment, you thought you might actually cry. not here. not in front of them. not where they could hear.

from the sinks, shoko ieiri’s voice came sharp and cutting, a stark contrast to her usual laid-back drawl. "god, can you two shut up? it’s break, not your audition for mean girls 2."

"what’s your problem, ieiri?" yorozu snapped, but there was an edge to her voice—shoko wasn’t someone to mess with lightly. 

"my problem is your ugly-ass voices ruining my smoke break," shoko replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke with practiced indifference. "if sukuna hasn’t asked her yet, it’s probably because he’s not a performative little attention whore like, oh, i don’t know, you two."

mei mei sniffed. "whatever. we’re just saying what everyone’s thinking."

"yeah, everyone," yorozu added, her voice dripping with mock concern. "but hey, maybe sukuna will surprise her. or not."

their laughter followed them out the door, and the sound of it made your stomach churn. the bathroom felt unbearably quiet once they were gone, the only noise the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. you stayed in the stall for a moment longer, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. their words circled in your head like vultures, each one pecking away at your confidence.

maybe he’s just not into you like that.

bad boys don’t exactly do promposals.

someone worth the effort.

your mind spun in spirals. was it true? sukuna had been acting distant lately—or was that just your imagination? he hadn’t replied to your texts about the tuxedo selfie, and now that you thought about it, what if it wasn’t meant for you? what if it was meant for someone else? maybe mei mei and yorozu were right. why would someone like sukuna—brooding, aloof, undeniably cool—want someone like you? you heard the stall door creak open, and shoko’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. 

"hey. you okay in there?"

you hesitated before opening the door, forcing a tight smile. "yeah, i’m fine."

shoko frowned, her cigarette dangling loosely between her fingers. she looked at you for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, before finally muttering, "those bitches don’t know what they’re talking about."

"it’s fine," you lied, brushing past her. your hands were trembling as you gripped the strap of your bag, and the lump in your throat made it hard to breathe. shoko didn’t stop you as you left, her awkward, apologetic smile lingering in your mind as you walked down the hall, head low, trying not to let the tears spill over.

is he really stringing you along?

does he even care?

two days until prom, and he hasn’t said a word.

the voices in your head were relentless, their whispers feeding your growing self-doubt. and for the first time in your relationship, you wondered if you’d been wrong about sukuna all along.

the day had dragged on forever, the weight of yorozu and mei mei's words pressing heavily on your shoulders. by the time school ended, you were so emotionally drained you couldn’t even think straight. but when sukuna pulled up on his bike, leaning casually against it with that stupidly handsome smirk of his, you plastered on your best smile, determined not to let him see how much you were spiraling. "hey, handsome," you chirped, sliding onto the back of his bike, your voice just a little too bright. "miss me?" 

he glanced back at you as he handed you the helmet, brow furrowed slightly. "you good? you sound... weird."

"weird? no way!" you forced a laugh, strapping the helmet on. "just, you know, long day. classes were boring. people were annoying. the usual."

sukuna didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged it off, revving the engine as you wrapped your arms around his waist. the ride home was silent, save for the growl of the bike and the occasional honk of a car passing by. usually, you’d chatter about everything and nothing, filling the air with your stories, your laughter, your plans. today, though, the words felt stuck in your throat, your mind too tangled in thoughts of prom and sukuna and you. when he stopped in front of your place, you hopped off and handed him the helmet, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, "can i ask you something?" his eyes narrowed slightly, his usual nonchalance giving way to something more guarded. "what’s up?" 

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "why haven’t you… you know… said anything about prom?" sukuna blinked, caught completely off guard. "huh? what d’ya mean?"

"i mean…" you trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid for even bringing it up. "it’s just… prom is in two days, and everyone else is, like, getting these cute proposals and stuff, and i thought maybe… maybe you’d—"

"oh, come on," he cut you off, his tone more defensive than he intended. "you know i’m not into all that cheesy shit. i’m not gojo or toji, running around making a scene." your heart sank at his words, and you tried to keep your voice steady. "it’s not about making a scene, sukuna. it’s about—"

"about what?" he snapped, rubbing the back of his neck. "you already know we’re going together, right? so what’s the big deal?" you stared at him, your chest tightening. "the big deal is… i just wanted to feel special, okay? like you care. but if that’s too much to ask, then—"

"you think i don’t care?" he interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "you think i’m just stringin’ you along or some shit? what kinda dumbass idea is that?" the tears you’d been holding back all day threatened to spill over, and you quickly looked away. "forget it. i shouldn’t have said anything."

"no, seriously, where’s this coming from?" he pressed, his frustration clear. "you’ve been acting off all day, and now you’re throwing this at me?"

"you’re impossible," you muttered, turning on your heel and walking towards your door.

"wait, hold up—" he started, but you didn’t stop, the lump in your throat making it impossible to respond. sukuna sat there on his bike, watching you walk away, his chest tightening in a way he didn’t know how to describe. he wanted to call after you, to explain that he was trying, that he wanted to give you something special, but the words just wouldn’t come out. instead, he clenched his fists, cursing himself under his breath. 

as you closed the door behind you, you leaned against it, tears streaming down your face. your thoughts were a chaotic mess. does he even care? am i being unreasonable? is this all in my head?

meanwhile, sukuna sat outside for a few moments longer, staring at your house with a sinking feeling in his stomach. he’d messed up, and he knew it. but how the hell was he supposed to fix it?

—

sukuna was lying on his bed, arms splayed out like he’d just been KO’d by life itself. staring at the ceiling, he let out a groan so deep it rattled his soul. it’s so over, he thought. this is it. the end. the fat lady’s singing. the curtain’s dropping. i’ve fumbled my way into boyfriend hell. his phone was propped up on his chest, the screen dimmed but still visible, waiting for the one thing that could bring him solace: a notification from you. no cute animal reel, no cheesy meme, no “omg this reminded me of you <3 :3” tag. nothing. nada. silence. sukuna stared at the unlit screen like it was actively mocking him.

so this is how it feels to die inside, he mused, scrolling aimlessly through tiktok, where every other post was either a cringy promposal or a “men ain’t shit” rant. great. he tossed his phone aside, facepalming hard enough to leave a red mark.

"bro, can you NOT," yuuji’s voice boomed through the thin wall, followed by the sound of something heavy slamming against it. "some of us are trying to get good sleep over here!" sukuna didn’t even flinch. "and some of us are trying to figure out why we’re the literal worst boyfriend on the planet, yuuji," he shouted back, voice muffled by his pillow.

there was a pause, and then yuuji called back, "sounds like a skill issue!"

yeah, thanks for the moral support, kid, sukuna thought bitterly, rolling onto his side and glaring at his phone like it held all the answers to his problems. should he text you? call you? grovel at your feet and beg for forgiveness? nah, too much. probably. "but what if it’s not too much," he muttered to himself, his overthinking spiraling like a tiktok rabbit hole. he grabbed his phone and opened your chat, fingers hovering over the keyboard. he started typing:

sukuna: "hey."

no, too casual. she’s probably still mad. delete.

sukuna: "sorry for being a dick earlier."

ugh, too vague. she deserves better than this half-assed apology. delete.

sukuna: "pls don’t leave me i’m stupid and i love you."

god, get a grip. delete.

he groaned again, tossing his phone across the bed and burying his face in his hands. he was spiraling, and not in the cute “omg i like her so much” way, but in the “my life is a flaming dumpster fire” way. the worst part? he couldn’t even properly apologize yet because the grand promposal he’d been planning wasn’t ready. and if he apologized now, you’d probably forgive him, but it’d ruin the big moment he was hoping to surprise you with. but what if waiting too long means she never forgives me at all?

“fuck,” he muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling again. “why is being in love so goddamn hard? people on tiktok make it look so easy. just dance, propose, and boom, happy ending. where’s my happy ending?”

from the other room, yuuji shouted, "SHUT UP, ROMEO!"

"eat shit, yuuji!" sukuna barked back, even though the kid was right.

god, he needed to get his act together before you realized you could do way better than him. but for now, he just laid there, shriveling up and dying like the dramatic dumbass he was, waiting for a miracle.

—

your room was a disaster zone: laptop open on your bed, your playlist stuck on “prom dress” by mxmtoon like it was 2019, your phone precariously balanced on a pile of mismatched socks, and tissues littered around like you were auditioning for a sad indie movie. the death metal hello kitty pajamas—thrifted with sukuna—clung to you like a bittersweet hug, the fabric somehow feeling heavier tonight. you weren’t about to cry over a boy. but also… you might cry over a boy. the duality of woman. and because emotional self-destruction is best paired with a sprinkle of pettiness, you grabbed your phone, snapped a cute selfie in said pajamas, and slapped a caption on it: “cozy nights >>>> everything else 💕”

posting it was an impulsive decision, but it was also calculated. you knew the power of a cute, casual post. it wasn’t technically aimed at sukuna, but you also weren’t about to sit here and pretend you didn’t want him to see it, to notice you, to maybe—just maybe—grovel a little in your DMs. the likes and comments started flooding in immediately because your socials were basically the hub for school tea and wholesome vibes.

mamaguro: our little fashionista!!! thrift QUEEN 😍

god bless that woman. she deserved the world.

shoko: (attached gif of a woman dramatically fainting on a chaise lounge)

classic shoko.

maki: ugh, if i thrifted this, mai would burn it out of spite. cute though. thumbs up. mai: shut up maki. also, not bad. 8/10. maki: don’t rate her outfit like it’s your stupid games, nerd. mai: cry about it.

sibling banter in your comments? worth it.

and then, of course, there was:

naoya zenin: so glad someone else noticed how good you look in pj’s 😏

you rolled your eyes so hard you saw another dimension. of course he had to slither in. you didn’t even bother giving it a pity like.

you refreshed the page once, twice, twenty times. still no sign of sukuna. no like, no comment, no DM. you threw yourself back onto the bed, groaning into your pillow like a banshee. was it really that hard to double-tap? and then, the spiraling started.

what if he didn’t like it?

what if he thought it was cringe?

what if he saw it and scrolled past, thinking about how much of a baby you are for posting this in the first place?

or worse — what if he thought it was for someone else? like naoya? 

ew.

you shook your head violently, trying to physically rattle the thoughts out. sukuna wasn’t that stupid. right? he had to know this was for him. but as the minutes ticked by, and the comments from your friends kept rolling in, the notification you wanted most stayed stubbornly absent.

boys are so stupid, you thought bitterly, scribbling “stupid sukuna and his stupid abs and his stupid everything” in your spiral-bound diary. it stayed locked away in your closet, expertly hidden in the event of an accidental snoop, because some things were too raw to share with the world. you hit play on “prom dress” for the 17th time that evening, feeling the lyrics a little too personally as you kept refreshing the post like a woman possessed. love, as it turns out, was truly exhausting.

—

sukuna had just slumped back in his chair, doom-scrolling tiktok and internally mourning the lack of a “girlfriend tagged you in a tiktok” notification, when your instagram post pinged onto his phone. for a solid five seconds, he froze. like a caveman discovering fire.

you looked ethereal. the death metal hello kitty pajamas, the soft glow of the fairy lights, the cozy chaos of your room in the background—sukuna didn’t even know how to process it. you looked like, uh, a… renaissance painting? yeah. except, sukuna was 98% sure he couldn’t spell renaissance if his life depended on it. 

r-e-n-a…sauce? god, no.

whatever.

like an idiot, his thumb hovered over the comment section for too long, his brain scrambling for something cool but romantic but not cringe but also boyfriend-worthy. and then, because he was absolutely useless under pressure, he panicked and commented:

sukuna: 🔥🔥🔥

the second he hit send, he let out the longest groan known to mankind, slapping his hand over his face. what the hell, sukuna? he might as well have sent a dm saying, “wyd ;)” for how basic that was. wasn’t he your boyfriend? he was supposed to be above fire emojis!

meanwhile, across town, your phone buzzed, and when you saw the notification, your entire soul ascended for half a second before crashing back down. fire emojis? that’s what he gave you?

your reaction was visceral. 

a gasp so loud it nearly knocked the fairy lights off your wall. your heart rate skyrocketed. every fiber of your being screamed, is this what my life has come to? my boyfriend thinks i’m fire-emoji-hot, not love-letter-hot? "oh my god, no," you muttered, pacing your room. this is it. the tiktoks didn’t work. i failed as a girlfriend. what’s next? marrying someone who comments ‘send bobs and vagene’ on my posts?

but before you could plan the ultimate self-roast in your diary, another notification came through. sukuna, clearly in full damage control mode, had added a second comment:

sukuna: my girl. 💪

you stopped mid-spiral, blinking at the screen. the simplicity of it. the possessive undertone. my girl. two words, and somehow your heart went from shriveled raisin to blooming flower.

back at sukuna’s place, he was staring at the new comment with narrowed eyes, second-guessing himself yet again. was that too much? was it cringey? what if she thinks it’s corny? what if she screenshots it and sends it to shoko, and they both roast me? what if—

and then, your like on his comment came through, followed by you pinning it under the post. sukuna let out a dramatic exhale, flopping back onto his bed. ah, love. exhausting, anxiety-inducing, and, somehow, totally worth it.

chapter five: when subtlety isn’t an option

dragging yourself onto campus that morning felt like a herculean effort. you were running on fumes and whatever scraps of serotonin sukuna’s ridiculously over-the-top goodnight message had left you. sure, it was sweet—ten whole lines about how he’d “reshape reality” for you or some nonsense—but was it an apology? was it a promposal? absolutely not. boys were a disease.

as soon as you stepped through the gates, gojo’s obnoxiously loud voice rang out, cutting through your existential crisis like a foghorn. “diva down!” he declared dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d personally betrayed him by showing up in less-than-perfect condition. before you could even muster a glare, geto’s hand shot out, smacking gojo square in the stomach. “read the room, satoru,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “ow!” gojo wheezed, doubling over. “i was just stating facts!”

you ignored their antics, trudging toward your locker, when the crackling intercom interrupted the usual morning chaos. nanami’s voice, as calm yet strained as ever, floated over the campus. “attention, students. all of you are required to assemble on the football field immediately. this is not a drill.” a murmur rippled through the halls. was it a fire drill? a surprise pep rally? something worse? you glanced around, half-hoping to see sukuna leaning against a wall with his usual “i don’t care about anything” face, but he was nowhere to be found.

“weird,” you muttered, joining the slow shuffle of students heading outside. on the field, clusters of confused teenagers were gathering under the bright morning sun. you scanned the crowd, squinting against the light. no sign of sukuna. where was that idiot? meanwhile, gojo and geto had caught up to you. “what do you think this is?” gojo asked, clearly already bored.

“hopefully not another motivational speaker,” geto muttered. “or a fire drill,” you added, your voice flat.

“whatever it is, it better be quick,” gojo whined. “my skincare routine does not involve standing in direct sunlight for this long.”

you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to the crowd. something about this felt off. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening, it had something to do with sukuna.

the murmurs in the crowd were growing louder, restless. one of the jocks inhaled, clearly gearing up to yell something stupid—probably “this is so lame” or some other brilliant insight—when the jumbotron sparked to life with a loud buzz. everyone froze, heads snapping toward the giant screen.

there he was. 

sukuna. 

in a tuxedo.

he looked… disheveled, to say the least. his tie was slightly crooked, and his bloodshot eyes gave him the appearance of someone who hadn’t slept in years. or maybe ever. but the way he leaned back in a chair, dressed like a mob boss with the confidence to match, had the crowd whispering excitedly.

“oh my god, is this for real?”

“is he—he’s wearing a tux! is this, like, a movie?”

“is he single?” one girl whispered, earning a sharp glare from her friend.

you? you were just standing there, slack-jawed, because what was he doing?

on screen, sukuna let out a deep sigh, his voice lower and rougher than usual, probably from the late hour. “hey,” he started, glancing off-camera like he wasn’t sure how to say this. “so, uh. this is for… my girl.”

your heart stuttered.

“listen,” he continued, running a hand through his hair, “i know i’m the world’s worst boyfriend. like, bottom of the barrel. absolute trash. no one’s worse than me.”

“i mean, he’s not wrong,” gojo stage-whispered from behind you. geto smacked him again.

sukuna’s voice dropped even lower, making half the girls in the crowd swoon. “but i’m trying. and if i have to humiliate myself in front of the entire school to make it up to you, then so be it.”

your breath caught as the screen cut to black with a simple message: turn around.

you whipped around just in time to see sukuna—your sukuna—riding his motorbike onto the football field like he was in a damn action movie. the crowd gasped, screamed, and scattered as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the field, yuuji riding behind him, holding on for dear life. “this is better than coloring claaaasssss!” yuuji yelled, his little voice carrying across the field. in his tiny hands was a bouquet of… lego flowers? some of the pieces were dangerously close to falling off. behind them, sprinting full speed like his life depended on it, was choso, carrying an actual vintage boombox over his head. half the girls in the crowd were now screaming, but not for sukuna.

“who’s that?”

“he’s so hoott! does he go here?”

“you’re all so basic,” geto muttered under his breath.

as sukuna parked his bike, yuuji jumped off and ran toward you, yelling, “you hafta say yes! otherwise big bro will cause mass destrunkshun!” 

sukuna groaned, glaring at his little brother. “yuuji, shut up!” but yuuji ignored him, shoving the lego flowers into your hands. “here! they never die, just like big bro’s love for you!”

the crowd erupted in a mix of laughter and cheers as sukuna finally got off his bike and walked toward you, his face red but determined. “listen,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “i know i’m an idiot, and i suck at this whole ‘romantic boyfriend’ thing. but i love you, and i want to take you to prom. so… will you be my date?”

you blinked, tears welling up as the boombox suddenly blared heart of glass by blondie. choso gave you a thumbs-up, still holding the boombox over his head like a champ. “say yes! say yes!” yuuji chanted, jumping up and down.

“oh my god, yes!” you finally shouted, throwing your arms around sukuna’s neck. the crowd roared, clapping and cheering as sukuna hugged you back, a relieved smile breaking across his face.

“finally,” gojo muttered. “that was so painful to watch.” but you didn’t care about the crowd, or the noise, or even yuuji yelling, “yay! no destrunkshun today!”

all you cared about was the way sukuna looked at you, like you were the only person in the world.

—

sukuna flopped dramatically onto your bed later that evening, still in his slightly wrinkled tuxedo from the ridiculous escapade earlier, his head hitting the pillow with a soft thump. “do you even understand what i went through to pull that off?” he groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “i might as well retire. i’m too old for this.” you snorted, sitting cross-legged on the floor, your gaze flicking to the lego flower bouquet proudly perched on your desk. “you’re eighteen, sukuna. relax.”

“eighteen with back pain,” he muttered, shifting to look at you. “and a vendetta against a certain flower set. do you know how many pieces are in that thing?”

“clearly, enough to drive you insane,” you teased, reaching over to nudge his shin. “so… tell me how it all went down. i need to know what mastermind put this together.”

he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow with an exaggerated sigh. “fine. but just know that i better get some kind of boyfriend-of-the-year award for this.”

“you’ll get a sticker. now spill.”

“okay, first of all,” he started, counting off on his fingers, “i had to beg nanami to bend the rules. i was like, ‘listen, dude, just one announcement. i swear i won’t get detention for the rest of the year.’”

“and he believed that?” you raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

“well…” sukuna grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “i might’ve also thrown in a promise to help him clean the chem lab after school for a month. he was this close to saying no, though.” you laughed, imagining nanami’s face at sukuna’s desperate pleas. “sounds about right. and choso?”

“ah, choso,” sukuna said dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest like he was reciting a shakespearean monologue. “the real goat. he flew in from across the state—i’m talking dead of the night—to bring me that stupid lego flower set.”

“you made him travel for legos?” you gasped, barely holding back laughter.

“hey, it was symbolic!” he defended, pointing a finger at you. “and he didn’t just deliver it; he stayed up with me all night building it. i thought we were gonna lose a piece at one point, and let me tell you, i almost cried.” you couldn’t stop giggling at the image of sukuna and choso frantically building lego flowers in the middle of the night. “okay, okay. what about yuu?”

“oh, he was the easiest to convince,” sukuna said, smirking. “i just told him, ‘power rangers need good deeds on their resume, like helping their big bro.’ he was all in after that.”

“of course he was,” you muttered fondly, shaking your head.

“so, there you have it,” sukuna finished, stretching out on your bed with a satisfied sigh. “a night of blood, sweat, and legos. all for you, baby.” you smiled, leaning back against the edge of your bed. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“yeah, but you love me,” he shot back, his tone smug.

“unfortunately,” you teased, though your cheeks warmed at his words. there was a brief silence before you hesitated, biting your lip. “sukuna?”

“hm?” he hummed, eyes half-closed.

“mei mei and yorozu said some stuff yesterday. about you and… us.”

his eyes snapped open, narrowing. “what kinda stuff?”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but he wasn’t having it. “they said you were stringing me along. that you’d never—”

“oh, hell no,” he growled, sitting up so fast he almost hit his head on your fairy lights. “i’m gonna—”

“no, you’re not,” you interrupted, grabbing his arm before he could launch himself off the bed. “we don’t beat people up, remember?” he grumbled under his breath, clearly displeased. “fine. but if they say one more thing—”

“they won’t,” you said firmly, giving him a look. “because we’re gonna ignore them and enjoy our nap instead.” sukuna sighed, flopping back onto the bed with a resigned groan. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, tugging you down beside him.

“and you’re lucky i put up with you,” you shot back, settling into the warm space next to him.

the two of you lay there under the glow of your fairy lights, the faint scent of your vanilla candle filling the room. the lego flower bouquet sat proudly on your desk, a quiet reminder of sukuna’s chaotic but heartfelt effort. as you drifted off, you couldn’t help but smile. love with sukuna was messy, dramatic, and over the top—but it was yours.

you tried. you really tried to fall asleep. but how could you, when sukuna had casually dropped an “i love you” like it was just any other sentence? sure, he said it before when he asked you to prom, but that was in the middle of a chaotic proposal involving legos and yuuji screaming about power rangers. this? this was casual. this was deliberate. this was real.

your brain spiraled faster than your pinterest boards during finals week. did he mean it? like, really mean it? was it a slip-up? does he just throw around the word “love” like that? you stiffened in his arms, your body going ramrod straight like a ruler, and sukuna, ever the perceptive one (at least when it comes to you), noticed immediately. “you good?” he mumbled, voice groggy as he cracked one eye open.

you didn’t respond right away, too busy drowning in your thoughts. was this what all those romance novels meant by ‘confessions catching you off guard’? but this wasn’t a confession, was it? or was it?

“hey,” sukuna nudged you lightly, his brows furrowing. “you’re acting weird. what’s up?”

you sat up suddenly, twisting to face him, your fairy lights casting a soft glow on his confused expression. “you�� you said you loved me.”

his eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in… well, ever, sukuna looked genuinely nervous. “uh… yeah? i mean, yeah. i did. i do. why?”

“you do?” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. you couldn’t help it; the man was notoriously bad at expressing his feelings, and now he was just casually confirming his love for you like it was no big deal? “uh, yeah?” sukuna scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in the corner of your ceiling. “i mean… why else would i do all this crap? the flowers, the tux, the boombox…”

“so you’re saying you really love me? like, love-love me?” you clarified, your hands now gesturing wildly because, of course, this needed to be crystal clear. at this point, sukuna’s face was turning an alarming shade of pink—like, my melody type pink, and you could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “yes, okay? i love you. love-love you. happy?”

you blinked at him, your heart doing that annoying fluttery thing it always did when he looked at you like that, all flustered and frustrated but undeniably sincere.

“wait, why are you smiling?” he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “this is so embarrassing. i knew i should’ve just—”

you didn’t let him finish, leaning forward to kiss him, your lips cutting off whatever self-deprecating nonsense he was about to spew. when you pulled back, his ears were now as red as his eyes, and he stared at you like you’d just stolen his soul. “i’m smiling,” you said softly, “because i love you too, dumbass. and because i think it’s cute when you get all flustered.”

“cute?” he repeated, deadpan. “did you just call me cute?”

“yep,” you chirped, lying back down and snuggling into his chest. “get used to it, my melody.”

sukuna groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes, but you could feel the way his heartbeat quickened under your cheek. and as he tightened his hold around you, mumbling something about how you better not tell anyone about this, you smiled to yourself. maybe you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon, but at least now, you’d be lying awake with a warm, fuzzy feeling instead of overthinking yourself into oblivion. love-love really was something else.

chapter six: the painting, the prom, and the prince

the evening of prom was finally here, and sukuna rolled up to your house looking, dare he say it, hot. okay, maybe he wouldn’t say it out loud, but judging by the double-take you gave him when he stepped off his bike in that sharp tux, it was safe to assume you thought so too.

and then you walked out.

he swore his brain short-circuited. he’d seen you in a hundred different outfits, every single one somehow better than the last, but this? this wasn’t just a dress. this was art. 

“you…you look…” he stammered, his usual cocky bravado completely out the window. “uh…you look like…you know…like…a renaissance painting or something.”

you blinked at him, clearly amused. “a renaissance painting?”

“yeah,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly regretting his life choices. “you know, like, those really fancy ones. with, uh, good lighting.” you bit back a laugh. “i’ll take that as a compliment.”

“you should,” he grumbled, averting his eyes because looking at you too long felt like staring into the sun. “you look perfect.”

as the two of you got on his bike and headed to prom, sukuna felt like he was riding on air. that was, until you turned to him halfway there and asked, “so, do you have the tickets?”

oh, shit.

his mind raced as he remembered exactly where those tickets were: stuffed into his t-shirt so you wouldn’t find them during his promposal planning. and then, last night, in a frenzy of cleaning and trying to look cool, he’d tossed the shirt into the laundry. “uhhh…” he stalled, trying to come up with a lie, but your raised eyebrow told him you weren’t buying it.

“‘kuna,” you said, already exasperated. “please don’t tell me—”

“okay, okay, maybe i left them in the washing machine,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. you groaned, but to his surprise, you didn’t seem mad. instead, you reached into your purse and pulled out two tickets. “lucky for you, i bought these ages ago,” you said, smirking.

“wait, what?” he blinked, genuinely stunned.

“what? i wasn’t about to risk you being unprepared,” you teased.

“okay, wow, first of all, rude,” he said, though he couldn’t help but grin. “second of all, you’re amazing. third of all…can we pretend this didn’t happen?”

“not a chance,” you replied, laughing.

fast forward to the gym, where the school had, of course, gone full cliché with the decorations: fairy lights, balloons, and a weirdly overused “enchanted evening” banner that looked like it had been recycled from at least three other events. but none of that mattered when you spotted yuuji and choso standing near the punch table. well, you saw them. sukuna, on the other hand, saw chaos.

“why the hell is yuuji here?” sukuna hissed, his hands already on his temples. “don’t ask me,” you said, equally baffled. “how does a seven-year-old even get in here?”

“puppy eyes,” sukuna muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

sure enough, yuuji was grinning ear-to-ear, his hair plastered to his head in spikes from what must have been an entire bottle of power ranger-branded gel. “big bro! you made it!” yuuji shouted, running up and practically tackling sukuna in a hug. “yuuji,” sukuna groaned, prying the kid off him. “what are you doing here?”

“helping!” yuuji declared proudly. “plus, i used your tickets!”

sukuna’s jaw dropped. “what?”

“he’s surprisingly resourceful for a kid,” choso muttered, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here as he adjusted his tie. “next time, don’t leave important things lying around.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” sukuna grumbled, running a hand down his face.

meanwhile, you were barely holding back laughter, especially when you noticed the cluster of girls gawking at choso from across the room. “looks like choso’s got some fans,” you whispered, nudging sukuna.

“yeah, well, they can have him,” sukuna muttered. “i’ve got everything i need right here.”

and just like that, the stress melted away, replaced by that smug, confident grin you loved so much. prom was a mess, but it was your mess. and honestly? you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

—

the night was winding down, and with prom nearing its end, you and sukuna made your way toward the photobooth. sukuna had his arm slung over your shoulder, and you leaned into him, already envisioning how cute your pictures would turn out. but, of course, peace was short-lived.

“oh, look who it is,” came mei mei’s unmistakably smug voice.

you stiffened, turning toward her and yorozu, who stood there with their arms crossed, both looking like they had nothing better to do than spread bitchiness. “figures you’d show up,” yorozu sneered. “thought you’d be too busy fixing your ‘perfect relationship.’”

“is this where you get your weekly drama fix?” sukuna drawled, his voice low and sharp. he glanced between the two with a look that could’ve cut glass. “or did you just run out of things to do since no one wanted to take you?” mei mei opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, sukuna bent down and scooped you up bridal style.

“sukuna!” you yelped, clinging to him in shock.

“don’t waste your energy on people like them,” he said simply, striding past the two women without so much as a second glance.

“you can’t just—hey!” mei mei called after him, but sukuna didn’t bother stopping. yorozu muttered something under her breath, but even she knew better than to push it.

“you really didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your voice. “didn’t have to?” he scoffed. “like hell i’d let them talk to you like that.”

the line for the photobooth wasn’t long, and before you knew it, you were stepping inside with sukuna still holding you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re not putting me down?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “nah,” he said with a smirk. “you look too good tonight. gotta keep showing you off.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed all the same.

once inside the booth, sukuna finally set you down, pulling you close for the first set of pictures. the two of you posed like a typical couple at first, all smiles and laughs. then sukuna decided to make things interesting by pulling faces, sticking his tongue out in one, and pretending to bite your shoulder in another.

“these are gonna look so stupid,” you laughed, pushing at his chest. “nah, they’re gonna be fire,” he said, grinning.

just as the final photo flashed, the curtain whipped open, and toji’s booming voice rang out.

“move over, lovebirds! we’re crashing this party.”

toji and mamaguro squeezed into the booth, nearly squashing you and sukuna against the wall.

“what the hell, toji?” sukuna groaned, glaring at the intrusion.

“what?” toji said innocently. “you think i’m missing out on free photobooth pics?”

“scoot over, lovelies,” mamaguro chimed in, pushing toji aside so she could squeeze into the frame.

“there’s no room!” you said, laughing as you were squished further into sukuna.

“there’s always room for one more,” came another voice, and before you could even register what was happening, gojo leapt into the booth, landing half on toji and half on sukuna.

“what the—get off me!” sukuna growled, shoving at gojo.

“smile, everyone!” geto called, popping his head into the frame at the last second.

the camera flashed, capturing the chaos in all its glory. by the time the prints came out, you were crying from laughter, holding onto sukuna to keep from doubling over.

“what a night,” you said, wiping tears from your eyes. “yeah,” sukuna said, his voice warm as he looked at you. “what a night.”

—

the picture on sukuna’s instagram was a beyonce level of iconic. the both of you stood side by side, wearing your prom king and queen sashes, though sukuna refused to actually wear his properly—it hung off his shoulder like he was in a fight club. you, however, looked perfect as always, your sash gleaming and your tiara slightly askew from all the dancing. sukuna was leaning just enough to rest his chin on your head (a “power move,” as he called it), and you were holding the bouquet of lego flowers proudly. the caption? equally sukuna.

prom king and queen, obv. any losers who’ve got something to say can take it up with me. she’s the queen, i’m the muscle. try us, idk 🤷‍♂️ also yeah, she's mine. no refunds.

within seconds of posting, the comments started flooding in.

gojo: the muscle? more like the court jester 💀

yorozu: lmao no one even voted for you two 💀💀💀

choso: solid pic 🔥 i’ll be charging for the lego flowers btw

mamaguro: MY BABIES LOOK AMAZING!!! 👑😭💕

toji: me and my girl did it better 😹

“yorozu really can’t keep my name out her mouth,” sukuna muttered, already cracking his knuckles. “ignore her, my king,” you teased, throwing a pillow at him from your desk chair.

your room was a warzone after the night’s chaos. your shoes were discarded near the bed like a crime scene, your fairy lights had a sad strand that had gone out mid-celebration, and your makeup wipes, bobby pins, and jewelry were strewn all over your vanity. you’d kicked off your sash somewhere in the mess, and your dress was neatly hanging off the edge of your chair because despite the chaos, you couldn’t risk ruining it. meanwhile, sukuna was lying sideways on your bed, scrolling through his phone like he owned the place, his tux jacket slung over the back of the chair you were sitting in.

“should we clean up?” you asked half-heartedly, already knowing the answer.

“nah,” he said, throwing his phone onto the bed. “it’s post-prom. chaos is mandatory.”

before you could argue, sukuna’s phone buzzed. he picked it up, squinting at the email notification, and then froze.

“what’s up?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he stared at the screen for a second before a grin slowly spread across his face. “i got in.”

“what?”

“sports scholarship,” he said, holding the phone up like it was a trophy. “same college as you.”

your jaw dropped, and then you were practically tackling him onto the bed, laughing and hugging him at the same time.

“we’re going to college together?” you asked, beaming.

“hell yeah, we are,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “best decision ever.”

and as the night wore on, with your messy room, tired limbs, and full hearts, you realized he was absolutely right.

epilogue

the morning sun cast a golden hue on your driveway, and there was a quiet buzz of excitement mixed with nervous energy as the taxi rolled up. your suitcases, meticulously packed with everything you thought you might need for college, sat neatly by the curb. sukuna, leaning against the taxi door, looked as relaxed as ever, though his towering frame and sharp features gave him an intimidating edge. “you ready?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. he was holding your suitcase because, apparently, carrying your own bags was “not allowed” anymore.

“as ready as i’ll ever be,” you said, patting the strap of your carry-on bag nervously. the realization that you were actually leaving home was starting to hit.

“you’ve been glowing lately, by the way,” sukuna said casually, as if he hadn’t just paid you the highest compliment. “probably ‘cause you’re spending all your time with me.”

you rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto your face. “it’s called a skincare routine, sukuna. maybe you should try one.”

before he could retort, a loud, familiar voice shattered the morning calm.

“WAIT! WAIT!”

both of you turned to see yuuji sprinting toward you, waving something in his hand like a man possessed. “YOU FORGOT THESE!”

you squinted, trying to make out what he was holding. as he got closer, it hit you: your prom queen sash and tiara. “oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “i knew i was forgetting something.”

yuuji skidded to a stop in front of you, panting heavily. “you’re welcome,” he wheezed, thrusting the items into your hands. “how could you forget these? you’re a queen!”

“thanks, yuuji,” you said, taking the sash and tiara from him and trying not to laugh at his dramatic delivery.

“don’t forget to wear it on your first day of college!” he added, grinning ear to ear. “yeah, sure,” you said, ruffling his hair. “and maybe i’ll wear a ball gown to class, too.”

“you’d still look better than half the people there,” sukuna chimed in, snatching the sash from your hand and draping it over your shoulder like he was crowning you all over again. “okay, that’s enough theatrics for now,” you said, adjusting the sash so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “we’ve got a flight to catch.”

yuuji’s face fell slightly, and he threw his arms around you in a sudden, tight hug. “i’m gonna miss you,” he mumbled into your shoulder.

“i’ll miss you too, yuuji,” you said, squeezing him back. “but we’ll visit, okay? and you better facetime me every week.” he nodded, pulling back and giving sukuna a pointed look. “you better take care of her, big bro.”

“always,” sukuna said without hesitation, ruffling yuuji’s hair in return. “and don’t eat all the snacks mom buys, okay?”

“no promises,” yuuji replied, grinning.

as you settled into the taxi and it pulled away from the driveway, you glanced back to see yuuji waving wildly until he was out of sight. you leaned back in your seat, holding the sash and tiara in your lap. “i can’t believe i almost forgot these,” you said, shaking your head.

“you packed a literal hello kitty lamp,” sukuna said, one eyebrow raised. “but not your prom queen stuff. priorities.” you laughed, swatting his arm. “the lamp’s for your dorm, thank you very much. i’m not letting you live in a depressing man cave.”

he smirked, but there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you. “yeah, yeah. but hey, this is it, huh? college.”

you nodded, the weight of the moment finally settling in. “yeah. it’s the start of everything.”

“good thing we’re doing it together,” sukuna said, reaching over to take your hand.

and as the taxi sped toward the airport, you realized he was right. this was just the beginning—not just of college, but of a whole new chapter of your lives. and with sukuna by your side, you had a feeling it was going to be a damn good one.

thank you for sticking till the end <3 this was a drabble i decided to format into a full length fic because i recently came across my old prom photos and the nostalgia was very real. while i can safely say i did NOT have the ideal high school experience, i am deffo making my reader[s] have it 🙂‍↕️ if you'd like to find out what type of reader are you (based off of my fics), click on the quiz link here <3 thank u for reading !!

[offbeat-manga-ships]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!! 🥳

for this end of the year i would like to do some reflections on the titles i've read in 2024. admittedly, there weren't all that many of them. if i were to say what was the star of my heart this year, it would be a show that was very important to me in my early teenagehood that i rewatched in its entirety and a particular ship that was one of the firsts i felt really strongly about completely consumed me once again. but still, in these final 2 or 2½ months, i sprinted through many manga with the same love i have for them as always and found a taste for doing caps again :D

for starters, i would like to look back just on a couple of manga that i wish had been better. of course, there were plenty of manga i read that didn't quite hit the spot, but for these ones, i had expectations. i had dreams and i wanted to see them soar. but in one way or another, they just let me down.

• onnanoko ga daicha dame desu ka? (ladies on top / is it wrong to get done by a girl?)

—

we don't have to be that dramatic for this one, actually. it's not even that i disliked it, but with a subject such as this one, i was supposed to love it. hand to your heart, how many romantic leading ladies have you ever read that get absolutely turned tf OFF by the usual confident kabedon-like romantic advancements of their love interest? note that i'm not talking about a girl who is unaffected until she starts to have feelings towards that person, i'm talking about actual 'EW what are you DOING?' and genuine desert dry pussy at the thought of having to assume the usual position with someone she already likes/is in love with/is in a relationship with.

the starting point of this manga is really strong. of course, immersed in the culture they are, both mitsuki (our main girl) and shinomiya (our main guy) have self-image troubles to the point of working really extra hard to try to conform in relationships going against their natural inclinations of sexual and romantic roles. i read this way back when there were only a handful of chapters and decided to wait for everything to be out so i could read it all at once and this year was the time for it.

and it was... fine? it was all right. i think this manga, along with many others, got lost in the sauce of non-conventionality until it founds its way back to a safe, tamer version of it. not in an overt, unforgivable way. what i mean is that maybe this was a bit too much of a psa than actual character exploration of a woman getting off on dominating her guy in bed and the actual sexiness of it. i don't mean to just say that it was all a disappointment because this manga had good moments of discovery, but i don't think it came even close to nailing making a story to people that already like the concept, rather than trying to explain itself to the "normal" audience. and for a manga who came to have such a discussion about these topics, it did not go actually deep into dominance and submission itself in relation to the masculine and feminine roles, in relation to certain sexual acts nor did it challenge pre-conceived notions of an act being inherently one thing or the other.

this manga also didn't know what to do with most of its side characters and i will forever be salty that we didn't get a bit more in the alt culture and gave a bit more of a spotlight to the messy ex of the main guy with a bit of a mean streak finding love with the nonbinary bisexual bartender who is clearly in love with her but is a bit stuck on the 'giving advice' position (THIS is what i mean about compelling flawed characters who we'll want to see going at it because they're interesting and have plot around them rather than the perfectly fine couple giving us all a lesson).

one final complaint i just can't seem to shut up about: feminine faces and the lips are freaky as fuck in this manga 😭 (in a bad bad way) am i really the only one completely bothered by the way the faces are drawn? like tf is thissss

it's like her lips go inwards and not outwards 😭 and compared to his face hers is so small it's just weirdd

• ibeon saeng-do jal butakae (see you in my 19th life)

—

i've already talked plenty about this one, but i really thought this was going to be a special one for me and it's painful when it isn't. as i said, i still really liked how jieum (our main girl) is this Being who has had many names and faces and genders which makes her approach things from romance to problem-solving in an unorthodox way. which makes it even sadder that the story didn't lean into her full potential to fit within the parameters of a heterosexual romance manwha. it's pretty much a waste of the charm of the character and their whole backstory (not to mention such refreshing character designs). seoha (our main guy) was done much better, but unfortunately, not enough to save this one from the weak writing. but i will still be grateful for the massive step forward we made in knowing how to write a female character simply longing and wanting to have someone and a male character letting himself be seduced. all of it without ever trying to point at it and "deconstruct back into normalcy". it's just the way they are :)

• watashitachi wa moto joshi desu (we are former girls)

—

when i found this one i was really excited. making boys turn into girls and girls turn into boys is one of my favorite things ever in media. and i don't mean something very temporary or not tied to your own identity like a body swap. imagine one day you woke up in a genderswapped version of your own body? you would have no choice but to evaluate in some way the cross between the equipment you have and how you want to present. how strongly do you feel about it? how do you want to see yourself and be seen by others? plus: the issues of people whom an ordinary cis protagonist might think was so distant from their own reality suddenly have something to do with them. on the hands of the right writer, it's a goldmine.

because of all this complication and because the manga actually was doing good in how the character was adjusting (or not) to their new life, i was ok with overlooking the implication that, because our previous female protagonist woke up in the body of a boy, that they would inevitably be attracted to girls. taking things in my way, i was happy to see it a bit differently. everyone knows testosterone has a way of making you hornier and seeing a "former" girl suddenly facing the attraction she feels towards girls was too interesting of a plot point for me to hang up too much on the heterossexist lens. i've ALWAYS wanted to read the story of a girl turning into a boy (a feminine one at that 🥳) and falling for a GIRL and working out the queerness of it in this sense rather than falling for a guy who will be ok with being gay for her/him.

but maybe that little problem was a warning for things to come. when the manga brings actual medical transition to the table it just did it horribly and in such a callous manner. something to understand about me is that i'm the chillest person in the world towards some queer concepts being done in manga without touching on the queer subtext of it. like oh you want to bring cross-dressing or body swapping, or disguised gender, or plain non-conforming girls and guys without really touching on the queerness or genderqueerness of it? sure, fine by me! i can and have enjoyed plenty of stories that do that.

but the moment you choose to start a conversation about topics explicitly pertaining to us you have started to play ball in our court and we expect you to do the bare minimum. do authors really think they can just take our struggles and our culture and our conversations and dilemmas and try to do some lame "commentary" on it completely out of their ass?? oh you want to use the big boy words and portray the big boy situations? great. but now you've actually gotta know what you're talking about. because this is not just a little detail or a little character quirk, you literally chose to make this a theme of your work. and i'm sorry, but if you're stupid about it, my patience has very hard limits. we have been misrepresented and looked at as freaks long enough for us to be still tolerating this in 2024.

now, to be fair to this manga, i think they try to make some amends in subsequent chapters. but the harm had already been done and they already proved to me they are dumb about it. so i basically gave this one a rest and will pick up again later.

obs: one more manga i read this year that made this same mistake -> seibetsu 'mona lisa' no kimi he. (the gender of mona lisa). have already said a lot about it.

obs2: one manga i read this year who managed to do the concept of genderbodyswapping in the most boring normative way possible -> jun to kaoru (jun and kaoru)

obs3: manga i read this year that felt borderline transphobic at times with their fantasy world puberty blockers that are so so bad for you and dragging the character into what their body is "actually supposed to be like" that just left me kinda uncomfortable -> crystal agassineun namjada (lady crystal is a man)

manga that did the same commentary on puberty blockers but didn't commit the grave sin of being boring so i like it better even though we lost our cute androgynous male character who grew up as a girl as was happy with his female identity -> useon namdongsaengbuteo sumgija (let's hide my little brother)

(going with the promo entry because it has a better synopsis. it's not an oneshot. and you can clearly see how the ML looks as a girl and of coooourse the author couldn't give us a short guy with androgynous traits even if he decided to live as man. nooo he has to be tall and broad shouldered and short haired and boring.

• saraba, yoki hi (farewell, happy days)

—

i had even forgotten i actually read this one earlier this year haha. it's really unfortunate because it has everything in its favour. it's a nicely drawn contemplative story that explores various moments of our characters lives so we can hopefully understand why these siblings are in love with each other. and unfortunately... it just didn't land for me. i mentioned somewhere that while i could see the codependency, nothing was good enough for me to explain why these characters want and need each other romantically or sexually. in a manga where a scene like this exists, i find myself without the right words to explain exactly why because it should be there. clinging to childhood roles and the comfort they provide for each other being so close and with absent parents is a start, but it shouldn't be all there is to it.

i couldn't shake the feeling that these characters are only portrayed as the roles they play - the sister who's got it together and the brother who can't do anything right - rather than any actual peek into their inner lives that rings true and shows true desire and vulnerability. they tell each other at one point or another during their childhood that they like the other and it is basically that and the angst of not knowing how to be together. i can see that she wants to be with him and he wants to be with her, but why? some love stories may not need an exploration of that question, but this one, i mean. come on.

i wish i remembered more to explain better, but i don't ever plan on coming back to it because just remembering how bored i was completely discourages me. (by the way i remember i made a comment about how a friend of the characters and her dad make a better unintentional incest story than the own protagonists of this manga lol)

• gokurakugai

—

i won't say too much here because i didn't read all that much. clearly and obviously, i started reading this manga for this character:

like bro look at her! but unfortunately just what i read was so derivative and cliché i guess. some chainsaw man jujutsu kaisen early bleach and naruto amalgamation that just came across a bit too much like generic shounen to me and i guess this really isn't my genre. i thought i would at least get an interesting partnership between what seemed to be the two main characters, but so far nothing scratched the itch. it's like it's all style, no substance. again, though: as far as i read.

and can i just say. i'm a boob guy, but even i think this was a character design mistake

maybe because i'm a boob person, i like to appreciate a well done instance of bringing out a character's appeal and sexiness by knowing how to draw big boobs, but just putting this on a character with this character design just smells like desperation to put ANY traditionally feminine sex appeal to be ogled at because they just couldn't let her be that cool with her androgynous-inclined fashion style and need to have an obvious "for the boys" trait. you can clearly see when she is drawn with more "usual" sized boobs for a character with her frame that it just fits her better.

honestly, it seems like it's nearly a lost art knowing how to draw big boobs that are actually appealing to anyone who knows a human woman and has lusted after real boobs. you do NOT have to go that far. with the right clothing, you can make boobs of any size look appealing. please stop thinking about character designs of female characters in terms of these obvious easy "appeals" and just do what looks right.

anyway. coming next, the highlights of the year for me!

[ask-hannah-blog]

Hey it's uh, Pretzel here. Probably a bad idea I keep calling myself that but darn it internet anonymity matters to me! At least for now, if I could talk to Pretzel the Clown right now I get the feeling they would disagree. Too bad for them they're not driving this meatbag body of mine just yet!

Anyhoo, just wanted to talk about this Cassidy girl a bit. I wish I had met her, the human version of her I mean. She seemed like a sweet gal. I've seen videos of other fully turned Clowns like her. I dunno, I guess for me it's kinda chilling. I look at that and I keep thinking "wow, is this what I'm gonna be like soon? A comple joke that no one will ever take seriously?" I don't have very many friends, nor does my family like me (long story, #transrights). I guess it's just a weird thought to know that eventually to society I'll just be some wacky clown walking the streets doing pervy shit to debase themselves with no end goal other than making people laugh. I wonder if clowns still need to take estrogen lol. I guess that would be nice to not worry about anymore.

Personally right now my biggest worry is my major buck tooth problem. Big dumb overbite like that Cassidy girl. Makes me feel like a beaver lol. I think my newest urges are probably the ideas I keep getting about adding Cartwheels and similar stunts to my yoga routine every morning.

Sorry for all the rambling, I guess it just feels nice to have somewhere I can vent a bit about all this clown stuff that's (literally) taken over my life. My plushies say hello btw. Honk Honk and all that 👋💝🤡

🥨

Pretzel!

Yes, trust me girl I was silently screaming my whole time with Cassidy. Part of me was really happy she’d gotten over the shame she felt last time we talked in public, but goodness a little shame is healthy.

If you’re in the middle of nowhere I can do see your fear of becoming your town’s weird wandering clown. I know I’m so thankful for all my friends, patients, Daisy, and my sister. I’m very lucky I have so many people to share the load. I’m glad I’m at least giving a place bc where you can air your frustration.

I know exactly what you mean about the transformation. I would give anything for a tf that would let me keep my practice. Just the thought of being so aimless scares me.

As far as Estrogen goes, I’ll try to find a journal I was reading the other day, but clowns on estrogen have reported supercharged effects as their change progresses.

And I like buck teeth personally, but they do admittedly make you look kind of dumb. I shared a boyfriend with this bimbo is college who had Buck teeth, oh my gosh I loved watching her use her mouth.

Anyway, good to hear from you! Give those plushies a hug for me! Honk honk!

[laurfilijames]

GIRL YOU WROTE ME A WHOLE NOVEL 🥹😭💗

I love that you love their relationship!! I feel like that means how I've written everything is working and it makes me so happy!

I would love to write an in-depth scene about the Miller bros training but I don't think any of us would survive that 🔥

I'm glad you'd be waiting for him too because honestly, I'd never let the man out of my sight. I'd be on him like a koala at all times 🐨

I hate that he lied too. And he knows it was a bad move, but he just didn't know how else to deal with it and was so afraid of the consequences... (cue an eye roll for later)

I want to scream with joy every time you GET WHAT IM DOING!!!!! You catch every little detail I include to make sure that things are flowing and staying consistent and I love you so much for noticing these things!!!!!!

That nightmare has really messed this poor man up. 😢

Benny is the voice of reason and Will is so lucky he has his bro to try to smack some sense back into him. Literally.

Will is really playing with fire here 😅 when in doubt, act WORSE is his motto at the moment 🙄(the eye rolls begin)

I love that you're reacting exactly how the reader is/should be. I am so happy about this. Me ⬇️

Benny and Will will always make things right with each other as we saw in TF, but Benny definitely still thinks he's being a shithead.

Thank you once again for providing me so much joy and entertainment while reading your notes about this!!! It's honestly like I get to read a story about my own story and it's just wild to me that you take the time to do it 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Breathe

Part 6

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 5.4K

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse. Oral sex (female receiving). ANGST. Oh the angst. Mentions of war and deployment.

Summary: Will starts to distance himself from you to the point of being unable to mend things and tension rises between the Miller brothers over his actions.

A/N: No notes. Just tears. GIF by the amazing and generous @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler and beautiful banners by the loveliest and most supportive @spaghettificationandpretzels who also was my sounding board for my ideas and maniacal mood swings while writing this 💗💗

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

---

“What if I hurt her, Ben?”

“You won't.”

“If she was in that bed with me last night-”

“You won't.” Benny insisted, cutting Will off before he could continue, sending his older brother a concerned, but stern glance as he turned around after filling his mug with coffee.

Will sighed and looked down at his feet, clenching his teeth together as the same thoughts that hadn't left him since last night continued to occupy his mind.

“It was so real, man…”

“I can imagine!” Benny sympathized, his eyebrows raising on his forehead, silently assessing his brother who he'd only seen that distraught once or twice before. “But you're not going to hurt her. That,” he emphasized, referring to Will’s nightmare, “isn't going to happen.”

Will puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled again, looking out the kitchen window where the early morning sun was casting a yellow glow over the room, hoping Benny was right, but not feeling convinced.

“Are you seeing her today?”

Will pursed his lips and nodded, looking over at Benny who stared at him over the rim of his mug as he took a long sip, waiting for a proper response.

“Yeah, I'm going to her place tonight.”

Benny shook his head up and down as he swallowed his coffee, appearing pleased with that answer.

“Good, that's good. We’ll have a hard session at the gym and hopefully that'll help you sleep better, too.”

“Yeah, you're right. Thanks, man,” Will smiled, feeling slightly guilty that he knew he wasn't going to sleep or feel better about this anytime soon, watching Benny light up and start excitedly going on about their training after Will’s convincing lie.

After refilling his cup of coffee, Will pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat, staring blankly at the black beverage steaming in his mug, tuning out whatever else Benny was saying, the exhaustion he felt from not sleeping the rest of the night and the pure panic that hadn’t truly left his veins making his whole body feel like lead in the wooden seat.

He wondered exactly how he would even manage to get through a workout, but knew with his tour coming up he’d have to keep training, and as he was always used to doing, he would push through even the toughest days.

Will picked his phone up off the table, checking it again to see if you had text, wondering if he should send one now, or wait until a bit later, or if he should just call you and risk you hearing that something wasn’t right in the tone of his voice.

He tossed it carelessly, sighing as he picked up his mug and took a drink from it, setting it down and then grabbing his phone again, spinning it in his hand indecisively.

Will roughly rubbed his hands over his eyes after he parked his truck in your driveway, exhaling deeply before finding the strength to get out and walk to the door, his workout draining him even more than he already had been. It temporarily gave him hope that being that tired would result in him actually sleeping, but the feeling in his stomach reminded him how anxious he still felt about his nightmare and that it was something his mind wasn’t going to simply let him forget.

For a moment it was all whisked away, seeing your face as you opened the door before he even had the opportunity to knock, your smile immediately making one appear on his own lips.

“Hey!” you greeted enthusiastically, your presence bringing him some calm as soon as you wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him.

Will placed his lips against your head, inhaling your scent and pressing a light kiss as he squeezed you back, the relief to have you in his arms mixing with the now persistent fear that he was capable of hurting you.

“How was your day?” you asked, peeling away from him slightly to look at him.

“Good,” he lied, nodding and hoping he didn’t look half as weary as he felt. “What about you?”

“It was good,” you smiled. “Better now.”

Will chuckled and followed you inside, kicking his boots off before following you further in and through to the living room.

“Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, no, I’m good, thanks.” Will declined, seeing a quizzical expression draw over your features.

“Okay…are you not staying the night?” you asked, finally noticing he came with just himself, no bag with a change of clothes or toothbrush.

“Uh, no…” he confirmed through a sigh, feeling guilty about it already. “I gotta be up early, something for work. It’s looking like I’m going to start getting back into things soon,” he lied, omitting the fact that he was already cleared and scheduled for duty in a matter of weeks.

You smiled despite feeling a slight sense of disappointment. “Well, I’m glad I get you for a little bit at least. How are you feeling about going back?”

Will shrugged. “It’ll be good to have a purpose again, maybe it’ll make things feel normal…get me back to being who I was before I was the guy who choked someone out in the cereal aisle.”

His heart ached at how you were looking at him as he spoke, your expression so genuine and clearly caring about him and how he felt, making that sourness in his stomach amplify from his dishonesty.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” you spoke softly, your eyes bright as the smile on your lips met them. “I’m really happy for you, Will. This is great news.”

You reached for his hands which he let you take hold of, pulling him in for a sweet, slow kiss that grew deeper and harder with each second, a sense of relief flooding Will over the fact that he didn’t have to explain more or evade the truth.

He focused on your kiss, breathing you in as your hands began to roam each other’s bodies and clumsily tore at clothing, stumbling toward your bedroom where he hoped that for as long as he was inside you, he would forget about everything.

It was all a mix of slow and fast, Will constantly reminding himself to relax and breathe, all of his emotions toiling within him uncontrollably.

As eager as he felt to have all of you as much as he could, Will wanted to take his time, soaking up each moment with you while he had the chance, every touch and kiss one that he tried to imprint in his memory.

Will sat on the bed, looking up at you as you stood close to him between his legs, his hands gently running up the backs of your thighs to your bum.

You sighed out slowly and closed your eyes, feeling his fingers find the edge of your panties and start to tug them down your hips, his lips landing on your bare stomach where he kissed you over and over.

He breathed in, keeping his nose and lips pressed against you, able to smell your arousal as he slipped your thong down to your knees before letting go where they fell the rest of the way to the floor.

Dragging his face along the crest of your hip bones and further down to your groin, Will moaned, his fingers indenting your flesh instinctively, feeling himself relax when your hands smoothed over his tense shoulders and back, your touch everything he needed right now.

He pulled you onto the bed with him as he laid down, both of you resting on your sides where your leg fell over his, his arms embracing you while your foreheads touched, his hand cupping your cheek to keep you close to him.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, sensing something from him you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Hmm, yeah,” he responded, moving his head so your noses rubbed together.

You gave a quick kiss to his lips, testing the waters, only to have him pull your face hard into his, his tongue delving into your mouth desperately, his claim over you clear as he released his hand from your face and grabbed under your bum, pulling your core against him where he ground his hips into yours.

With what little space there was between your bodies, you reached down and found his cock straining through the thin cotton of his boxers, grabbing it and tugging it free before angling it down to the apex of your thighs where it nestled perfectly between your folds and began to grind on him.

“God, you feel so good, sweetheart,” he groaned, hardly able to believe it felt that incredible without even being inside you yet.

You squirmed against him, moving along his length as you breathed out slowly and closed your eyes, your mouth teasing his before slotting your lips together again. His beard was soft on your skin, but you knew with how eager you were to keep kissing him that your face would feel raw by the time you were sated, the taste of him too good to stop.

Moments passed with you just like this, kissing and teasing, indulging in the soft and slow that you seldom did, usually unable to stop yourselves from choosing a rough and fast pace.

A long whine came from you as his tip breached your entrance, pushing through and settling no more than an inch inside, the tease of it almost equally as satisfying as if he was buried completely in you.

His hands grabbed at your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, the stretch feeling so good you automatically brought your hips closer to his body, making his cock go deeper while you increased the fervor of your kiss.

Will groaned into your mouth as he shifted his body, moving at lay on top of you where his weight pressed you comfortably into the mattress, lifting his hips so his cock slid out before slowing forcing it back in again.

His fingers raked over the sides of your head, holding you securely and angling your face up to his, his tongue exploring your mouth wildly as his thrusts grew into a deep, purposeful rhythm.

The thought of never being able to do this with you again crossed his mind, wondering what the outcome of telling you he was leaving would be and if he would even make it back alive, dreading what he knew he would have to face sooner rather than later.

Trying to ignore that panic, he relished in the way your hands smoothed over his back, your touch so soft yet so meaningful it helped make everything more profound, and he vowed to put everything he had into making love to you.

There had been so many times already he had wanted to say it, to tell you he loved you, because fuck did he ever, but now he knew he couldn’t, wanting to protect you from him even more and what he feared he was capable of.

Each rolling thrust was met perfectly by you, your hips purling into his to take him deep, allowing him to drag out slowly before pressing back in, the rhythm addicting and working to send you both over the edge.

Your bed moved against the wall as he put more power behind his pace, moaning and breathing into your mouth desperately as he lost himself completely in you, feeling your hand search for his where you laced your fingers together and held onto it tightly, his grip squeezing as he brought your linked hands up beside your head.

Will knew you were on the brink, able to read your body on instinct and almost better than his own, feeling your breathing change and the pitch of your whines switch, your free hand leaving marks on his back as your movements became erratic.

He felt you tense, every muscle in your body that was wrapped around his straining through your pleasure, your walls choking his cock as a surge of wet lubricated his strokes.

Will kissed you harder, absorbing your cries until your body relaxed under him, but he'd only allow you a short moment of reprieve.

He crawled down your body, a whiny moan sounding from you when he pulled out of you, your hands clawing for him to stay, but when his mouth landed on your soaked cunt your protest stopped, your hips bucking off the bed against his face as he worked to make you come again quickly.

“Are you sure you can't stay?” you whispered, tracing your fingers all over his sweaty face in a way that made him never want to move.

He sighed, closing his eyes and praying for the courage to give the answer he knew he needed to.

“I'm sure. I'm sorry.”

You looked crestfallen despite your best efforts not to, the side of your mouth turning upward as you nodded your head in understanding.

Will kissed your palm that rested beside his mouth, wanting more than anything to stay in bed with you, not even caring if he ever slept or not, but his nightmare kept nagging him and reminding him exactly why he couldn't.

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he explained, stepping out of bed and finding his boxers, leaving you in the mess of sheets to watch as he dressed.

It was so late already, making you question even more why he wouldn't just stay the rest of the night, feeling a sense of unease and confusion, and hoping you weren't reading into things too much.

“Get some sleep,” you wished, sitting up to meet him in a kiss when he came back over and leaned down, your hand slipping behind his neck where you felt him groan to your touch.

“Yeah, I will. You too,” he said quietly, knowing damn well he wouldn't. “I'll lock the door behind me.”

Both of you hesitated a moment, your eyes searching each other’s, your silence screaming the words neither of you dared to.

With a weak smile, Will turned and walked out, and everything in you felt so anxious that something between you was changing, and you couldn't determine if it was for better or worse.

The rest of the week played out the same; Will coming over to your place each evening to have dinner and spend time with you, only to make himself scarce as soon as turning in for the night was being considered.

He caught you staring a few times, watching him finish the dishes or studying his expression as you watched tv together, trying to work out what was going on in his head.

He did everything he could to act as normal as possible, but could feel himself slowly pulling away, distancing himself like he was gradually building up to the inevitable.

All of that seemed to fade the moment his body made contact with yours.

His hands would grip you tighter, each kiss more intense and passionate than the last, the time spent with his arms wrapped around you in a hug growing longer with each one, savouring your presence and everything good that you gave him.

He almost wished you would just ask, call out what you seemed to know he was doing, his guilt growing the same his love for you was, but the pain he felt in his heart at knowing he was hurting you, and was going to hurt you even more, was outshining both easily.

Six hours and forty-seven minutes. That was the total amount of sleep he'd had in the last three days, finding himself growing more irritable and angry on top of being exhausted.

He sighed when he came in the door, noticing the tv on and blaring, Benny still awake and watching a fight.

The last thing he wanted was an interrogation from his brother, and he prayed as he slipped out of his boots and put his keys in their spot that one wouldn't come tonight.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Benny’s head whip around, and as he walked into the kitchen, he waited for the comments to come.

“Do you keep fucking and bailing? Because it really seems like you keep fucking and bailing.”

Will took a deep breath and ignored him.

“Nice,” Benny added, sarcastically.

Will opened the fridge to get a glass of water, glaring at him over the door with warning, which only encouraged Benny more.

He always had a habit of testing Will, seeing how far he could push him until he snapped, and while Will wasn't sure if that was what he was doing now, it was definitely getting on his nerves.

“Getting your fill and then leaving her hanging. You must really love her,” he drawled, staring at the tv as Will walked into the room.

“Fuck off, Ben. You know why I'm not sleeping there,” Will huffed, plopping himself on the chair opposite the couch.

“I told you it isn't going to happen for real. It was a dream, man. I know you-”

“You don't know shit!” Will barked, cutting him off.

He stood and stormed to his room, hating how his brother could be so good and understanding one minute and then go totally against him the next, but mostly hating how he knew he was right.

Coffee was barely enough to keep him functioning at this point, and after another sleepless night, Will wondered just how much more of this he could take, especially with his deployment date looming and getting closer and closer.

He counted the tablespoons of grounds he scooped out of the container and into the coffee maker, hoping a stronger brew would help him drag his feet less but worried it would only do the job of amping up his anxiety.

For the brief moments he had slept, that same nightmare kept recurring, seeing your lifeless face in his hands until he jolted awake, gasping for breath and covered in sweat.

He knew should tell you about the nightmare and that he was leaving, but his selfishness was getting the better of him, feeling as if the moment he said it out loud that his whole world would actually fall out from under him, and the thought terrified him.

Benny came into the kitchen, his arms stretched above his head with a long exaggerated yawn, and even though Will told himself he wasn't trying to, it was like he was rubbing it in his face that he’d slept so well.

As Will went to grab a mug from the cupboard, Benny brushed by him, reaching around his brother to get his own, nudging Will in the process.

Will sighed, but ignored his irritation, opening the next cupboard over to put the coffee away where Benny stuck his hand in to get the sugar.

“Don’t fucking start,” Will warned under his breath.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Benny gave him a look, smoothing his hair back and out of his face as he grabbed the bag of bread and took out a couple of slices.

“No, but I know what you’re doing.”

Benny didn’t respond, and Will knew he was carefully choosing what he would say when he did speak next, seeing a tension in his back as he went about his business.

“You’re gonna have to tell her at some point, Will,” he said quietly, not looking at him.

Will swallowed thickly, feeling every muscle in his body tense up while choosing to bite his tongue.

Benny shoved him with his shoulder as he sidled up next to him, grabbing the pot of coffee before Will was able to.

“Can you stop?” Will barked, holding his empty mug up in disbelief.

Benny glared at Will as he put the pot back down, almost as if he was daring Will to make a move.

“Fuck you.”

“Really?”

“You’re acting like a dick and you know it,” Benny accused, not moving from where he stood.

Will took a step back, hanging his head. “I don’t need this shit right now.”

“No?” Benny asked excitedly. “Stop being such an ungrateful piece of shit. You treat everyone like shit, like you’re owed everything because you’re hurt.”

Will shook his head, feeling anger rise up through him, but Benny just kept going.

“You landed yourself the best girl and look what you’re doing with that. You don’t think she deserves to know you’re fucking leaving in eight days?”

Benny’s voice continued to rise as he went on, making Will’s teeth clench harder and his grip on the countertop get tighter as he leaned forward against it.

“Now you’re just pissed off because you know you’re fucking everything up. How the hell are you gonna go over there and focus when you’re turning into a complete fucking mess here?”

Will stayed quiet, hanging his head and unable to look his brother in the eye, knowing everything he was saying was true.

Benny watched him for a minute, waiting, and gave his final say before walking out of the kitchen.

“Get your shit together, man. Or something bad might really happen.”

More and more days passed between seeing each other, and by now Will imagined you had gotten the hint, having stopped initiating conversations due to how cold and short he was being with you, knowing you were doing your best to give him space in hopes that would fix everything.

Texts were rare and visits were brief, and Will could see and feel the worry radiating off of you when he was with you, your uncertainty if you were the problem blatant.

Two days remained until he deployed, and with his bag packed and everything else in order, he reached for his phone.

Can we talk?

You gave him a smile when you opened the door to let him in, but the rest of your face said it all, your eyes bleary and barely able to hold contact with his, your body language nervous as you rubbed your arm up and down even though it was brutally hot and humid.

“Can I get you anything?” you offered, the question feeling too formal but suiting the atmosphere, neither of you reaching for the other for a hug and kiss like you used to.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t going to be a fun conversation, so I’d like you to spare me even more grief then you’ve already caused, Will.”

Your words came out quickly, like if you didn’t rush to say them you wouldn’t get them out, and your voice shook, making Will’s heart break even more than it was.

He sighed and nodded, raising his eyebrows on his forehead.

“I think we should stop before we get too far ahead of ourselves here.”

“What does that mean?” you scoffed, your frustration and confusion clear as day.

“What do you think it means?” he said pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you bluntly.

You nodded your head as you looked up at the ceiling, blinking quickly to fight off the tears he knew you were struggling to keep back.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” you explained. “Why didn’t you say if it was too much or too fast?”

“I’m sorry,” he said flatly, looking at your face contort with even more hurt and confusion.

“You’re sorry?” you blurted. “You’ve spent the last however many weeks stringing me along and acting like everything was fine until all of a sudden it wasn’t and then you fucking ghost me? And all you have to say is you’re sorry?”

“Why is that so hard to understand?” he spat, the chill of his words surprising himself.

He watched your expression shift, your anger switching to a gut-wrenching hurt he knew too well, your pain washing over you in a rippling effect after his words slapped you across the face.

“Because I’m falling in love with you!”

He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, knowing all along that you were but hearing it hit him so much harder, and in the act of self-preservation, he continued his facade of not loving you in return.

“Yeah? Well stop, because you’re only gonna end up hurt.”

“Wha-” you started, but he cut you off before you were able to start asking questions.

“I’m deploying in two days.”

Your mouth opened and closed, and he knew the feeling of not being able to properly take the breath you so desperately needed, the shock on your face forcing Will to look away and down at his boots, too cowardly to face what he caused.

“I can’t go do this mission with any distractions,” he explained, his tone flat and expressionless.

“Is that all I am to you? Do you not think I care or wouldn’t offer support…I can't just put how I feel about you on hold or dismiss it completely, Will. Us breaking this off isn't going to make a difference in me worrying about you or erase what we have.”

Will shrugged, not knowing what else to say and feeling like he was out of lies to spew, and at this point nothing he said would make any of it better or worse.

You shook your head quickly and grunted frustratedly, wiping the tears that finally fell off your cheeks.

"I don't know why I'm crying,” you laughed, looking at him defeatedly. “You're not mine to cry over."

Will couldn’t bring himself to look at you again as he made his way over to the door, knowing damn well that he was yours as much as you were his, his entire heart left behind with you as he walked out.

After crying more tears than you thought you ever had, you peeled yourself out of bed and dragged your sorry ass to the gym, needing to distract your mind and do something good for your body, even if it meant risking seeing one or both of the Miller brothers there.

Your reflection was like a stranger, a hollowed-out version of yourself with puffy, blood-shot eyes lifting the dumbbells in your hands up and down as you worked through a set of bicep curls.

You were barely able to count through your reps, thinking how ironic it was that that was how you and Will met in the first place, but you knew the exact amount of hours it had been since he came and broke things off with you, and how long it was until he’d be on a plane flying out to wherever hell he was going.

You did a double-take in the mirror when you saw Benny come out of the change room, spinning around to see him better, the large black and blue bruise swelling around his left eye making your mouth hang open. A cut on his lower lip looked like it was still bleeding, and you thought it all to be strange when you recalled Will telling you he didn’t have any more fights until the fall.

The sympathetic smile he gave you was a reminder of all the things you knew you would be missing out on, but you shoved those feelings aside and walked over to him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What the hell happened to you? I thought you weren’t fighting for a while?”

Benny huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “You should see the other guy…”

That drew your attention to his hands, seeing the skin on his knuckles broken and red, knowing whoever was on the receiving end of it was likely in far worse shape than him.

Before anything else could be explained, you followed Benny’s gaze as he looked up, your heart stuck in your throat as you watched Will walk in the front door, his face even more beat up than Benny’s was.

You looked at Benny where he just shrugged, knowing you had put two and two together.

“He deserved it,” he said flatly, clearly not proud of it. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into him. I’m sorry for what he did to you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, looking down at the floor because you knew if you met Benny’s kind, blue eyes, you would crack again.

You sighed, praying your voice didn’t break when you spoke. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Benny nodded convincingly, the faith he had in his older brother never faltering despite whatever was happening. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

You nodded, feeling the lump in your throat return.

“Are you gonna be alright?” he asked, making you nod faster and look anywhere but at him, the tears coming on fast as all the equipment surrounding you began to blur in your vision.

“I’m sorry he’s such a dipshit.”

You laughed through your tears, and Benny did too, his broad smile making you feel a little better.

“It’s just crazy,” you started, finding your courage to speak. “I don’t even hate him for what he did. I just want him to be happy and be safe.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. “That’s what happens when you love someone.”

It was silent in the truck on the way over.

Benny hadn’t even turned on the radio which was unusual, leaving Will with nothing to listen to other than his thoughts and the sound of his pulse, counting each heartbeat until his brother pulled onto the tarmac and parked.

“You sure you're gonna be okay over there?” he asked, and Will could feel his eyes fixed on him.

Puffing out his cheeks, he breathed, “I think so. Kinda have to be.”

Will looked out the window, seeing all the families saying goodbye to his fellow troops, his heart aching in his chest as his mind went to you.

He blinked and then turned toward Benny, shaking his head and laughing, seeing how bad Benny’s beat up face was and knowing he looked ten times worse.

“We look like idiots.”

Benny ripped down the visor to look at his face in the mirror, offended Will would say such a thing.

“I look like this pretty much all the time. Are you saying I always look like an idiot?”

“I'll leave that up to you.”

Their chuckles faded out, leaving them to sit in silence for a couple of minutes, Benny studying Will carefully for any tell that he wasn’t stable enough to get on that aircraft.

He saw his brother’s chest rising and falling sharply, the pulse in his neck thumping wildly, the muscles in his cheeks flinching as he tried to control his emotions.

“Everything will be fine, man.” Benny assured him, referring to both things with you and his mission.

Will nodded and finally found the courage to look over at him, his eyes wet.

“Keep an eye on her for me?” he choked out, trying to swallow the broken sob that followed his words.

“I will.”

Benny clapped his shoulder and shook it, his eyes welling up too, knowing he would never get used to these goodbyes regardless of how many times they happened, seeing his big brother go off to war something he hated more and more over the years.

Will leaned over and pulled him into a hug, squeezing his back so tight while feeling himself start to crumble as Benny reciprocated it with equal force.

“I love you, man,” Benny mumbled against his brother’s shoulder.

“I love you, too, Ben.”

Benny knew there was no point in punishing him anymore, it was punishment enough with his own guilt and having to go do what he was, and losing you on top of it was about all Will could handle.

He’d have his brother’s back no matter what, even if he didn’t agree with some of the things he’d done, and knew Will would do the exact same for him if it was the other way around.

Benny had never seen Will so happy as when he was with you, and promised to himself that he would do everything in his power to help get you two back together, refusing to let him give up on what he knew was the real deal.

The brothers parted, Benny squeezing the back of Will’s neck as Will pulled the handle to open the door.

“Go get ‘em and get on home.”

---

Taglist:

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[nervousgardenerkid]

Why don't I do it for you?

a/n: it's finally here!! the moment you've all been waiting for! i'm so so happy with out this turned out and i really hope you all like it! i'm thinking of changing the title but i honestly don't know what to LMAO idk "the other woman pt.2" sounds bland i need some zest i hope you guys enjoy reading this cause i definitely enjoyed writing it! read part one here! credit to the gif owner! enjoy the story yall <3 why tf they look so good in this gif i'm BARKING bruh

Steve watched you in the ammunition store playing around with Dustin, you both stopped deciding it was time to be serious before bursting into another fit of giggles. He let out a sigh grabbing a bottle of gasoline and put it in the shopping cart roughly causing Robin to flinch.

“Are you okay?”

Steve chuckled and nodded his head. “yup. just peachy!”

Dustin ran up to Steve and Robin with a wide smile on his face. “Guys check it out! y/n gave me a bandanna and tied it like eddie’s! pretty sick right?” Dustin asked while doing a pose. Steve smiled then looked around the shop, his eyes frantically looking for you in the big store.

“Hold on, where's y/n?”

-

You cocked the shotgun, a small smile on your face at how easily you handled it.

“How much is this?” You asked the man working the counter.

“$120.99, but I'll throw in twenty rounds buckshot for you.”

you smiled at the man and nodded while inspecting the gun that was in your hands.

“Hey, can I see this pretty 357 please?” you heard a familiar voice ask. the blood in your veins ran cold and you shivered. you turned your head and let out a curse when you saw Jason Carver. You quickly look back down at the gun trying to shield your face as best as you could, your breathing picked up a bit as you gripped the gun.

“y/n l/n.” you heard him say. You close your eyes and let out a sigh. you forced a smile as you looked at him.

“I didn't expect to find you here.” he said while holding a gun in his hand.

your heart was beating out of your chest and the only thing you could think to yourself was please don't let them find eddie.

“yeah, well it's just, scary times.” you say while looking at him. Jason wasn't the best looking guy in your book, but he also wasn't the ugliest. You took this time to study him. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked a shade paler than usual.

“I'm sorry,” you began. “about um, Chrissy.”

He nodded his head at you and put down the gun he was carrying. “Want my advice?”

The word no was on the tip of your tongue. You could say it but the minute he stepped closer everything you once knew fled your mind.

“Shotguns aren't good past anything besides killing birds,” he said standing up straighter. He took a step towards you.

“I mean they have power, sure, but not much range.” He was up close now. You could see the bloodshot red color in his eyes and sweat dancing along his forehead.

“That's just gonna force you into close-up combat, and someone can just grab the barrel like this,” he grunted out as he grabbed the barrel of the shotgun. You let out a gasp as he pulled you toward him.

“And redirect it,” he said. You glared at him and tried snatching the gun back, but you were unsuccessful.

“You know Eddie, right?”

“Only because I tutor him.” you lied.

Jason smirked and shook his head. “I don't buy it, I've seen you come to school with him and even eat lunch at his table. You're one of them, aren't you?”

Your breathing picked up. “What are you talking about?”

“Where are Henderson and Munson?”

“I don't know.”

Jason’s eyes scanned your face. “you're nervous.”

“Like I said, scary times.”

“Everything okay here?” Steve asked, coming up behind you. Jason let go of the gun barrel and looked at Steve.

“Harrington didn't expect to see you here either.”

Steve nodded his head and pushed you behind him. “Yeah well, when your girl wants to protect herself, who are you to stop her?” he said with a tight-lipped smile.

It took everything in you to not roll your eyes at him calling you his girl. Jason’s eyes darted around the store and you prayed to whatever greater power was out there that the rest of the group left the store.

“Nancy with you?”

Steve stood straighter. “Why?”

“Her brother, he's in that cult right?”

Steve made a face. “Mike?”

“Mike…is he here?”

You pushed past Steve and stood in front of Jason, all fear left your body and was replaced with anger. You were angry at Jason for wanting to bring harm in the kid's way, you were angry that the whole town thought Eddie Munson was capable of something like this, and you were mad at Steve. You were mad at him for coming in and acting like your knight in shining armor, and you were mad at him for calling you his girl when you're the furthest thing away from it.

“No, he isn't,��� you said in a firm voice.

Jason nodded his head not even looking in your direction. “His friends here?”

Steve opened his mouth ready to say something but you beat him to it. “Jason, if you know what's best for you, you'll leave me and my friends alone. Are we clear?”

Jason’s eyes met yours and if looks could kill you'd both drop to the ground in an instant. The customers in the store suddenly disappeared and you drowned the noise out.

“Are we clear?” you asked again, stepping closer to Jason.

“Crystal,” he said with a smile.

-

“What the hell was that?! You get a gun in your hand and all of a sudden you stand up to a guy who's three times your size?!” Steve exclaimed while running towards the mobile home. You ran in behind him letting out a sigh of relief when you saw that everyone was safe.

“Just drive Steve!”

Eddie stood up from his spot. “What's going-”

“Your old friends are here!” Erica told Lucas once she settled into her seat.

Steve starts the vehicle and drives off in an instant. You're sitting in the passenger seat looking out the window when you lock eyes with Jason who's standing outside of the store. None of your eyes leave each other until you're out of each other’s view.

“Hey, hello! Are you gonna answer me?” Steve asked while looking at you before he focused on the road again. You let out a scoff.

“Jason isn't three times bigger than me.”

“Really? That's all you got from that?”

You turned your body to glare at Steve.

“What about you?”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“When my girl wants to protect herself, who am I to stop her?” you mocked him. “I didn't need you to step in, I had it handled.”

“Didn't look like it to me,” he muttered under his breath.

You took a deep breath. “I didn't need you, Steve.”

“I'm just saying, you look scared-”

“Stop. I didn't need you. I don't need you.”

Steve took a glance at you. “Are you serious? Now? You wanna do this now?” he asked, slightly raising his voice.

“I'm not some pathetic girl who needs saving Steve! I'm fine! I can handle my own shit.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yeah right.”

You unbuckled your seat belt ignoring Steve when he asked where you were going.

“Last time I checked it was always you who came crying to me. I had to save you, Steve! Countless times, and never once did I hear a thank you. We're done, Steve. Whatever the fuck kind of relationship we have, it's over.” your voice was cold and quiet as you stormed to the back of the mobile home and you sat the furthest away from everyone.

Nancy made her way to the passenger seat and took a seat. She cleared her throat and looked at Steve.

“Trouble in Paradise?” she asked quietly.

He led out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, you could say that,” he said while sniffing and wiping at his eyes.

Nancy looked back at you and smiled when she saw you tossing candy into Max's mouth. “She doesn't mean it you know, she's just upset right now.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn't matter, you heard what she said, we're done.”

“You'll both be fine Steve, just give it some time.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“It's silly but, I actually always had this dream that I’d have a really big family. I'm talking like a full brood of Harringtons, like maybe five or six kids.”

“Six?!”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, six little nuggets, three girls, three boys.” he felt tears begin to prick his eyes and he swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. “Every summer, I figured all of us Harringtons, we’d pack into something like this,” he said, waving his hand around to gesture to the mobile home. “and we’d just see the country. You know, the Rockies, the Grand Canyon, maybe Yellowstone.” He looked in the rearview mirror, his heart clenching when he sees Eddie tying a matching bandana around your head, your smile as bright as ever.

“We’d end up in some beachside town in California, spend a week parked in the sand…” he wiped away a stray tear that fell down the left side of his face, and focused back on the road. “I'd probably learn to surf or something.”

Nancy smiled. She wondered if Jonathan ever thought about a future with her like Steve has with you. The only difference is that Jonathan knows he's talking about Nancy. “That sounds nice.”

Steve glanced at her then back at the road. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, except for the part about six kids.” Nancy decided to play with fire.

“I don't think y/n would have that many.”

“What-”

“Sounds like a total nightmare!” she exclaimed while looking out the window and laughing.

Steve rolled his eyes and pointed to the kids in the back. “If only I had some practice.”

“Fair enough.” Nancy laughed out. A comfortable silence was shared between the two of them before Steve decided to break it.

“Hey, I have a question.”

Nancy let out a hum and closed her eyes.

“Did you mean everything you said?”

Her eyes opened and she looked over at him. “When?”

“When we broke up.”

Nancy cleared her throat and she sat up. “I don't know…I was upset about what happened to Barb, and I still am,” she said in a hushed tone. “but that didn't give me the right to take it out on you. I'm sorry for that.”

“Did you ever love me?”

Nancy’s gaze dropped down to her hands as she nervously played with her fingers. “At times.”

Steve nodded his head. “But not all the time, right?”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

Steve wasn't sure what hurt more. Was it that Nancy never really loved him as much as he loved her? Or was it the fact that you had your head in Eddie's lap trying to get some sleep, his leather jacket draped over your upper body acting like a blanket? His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white when he saw Eddie gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You peeked one eye open and smiled at him letting out a giggle that Steve only seemed to hear.

Steve stopped driving the car noticing they were near an empty field. You let out a squeak at the sudden stop and blushed when you felt Eddie's arm on your waist.

“Careful there, I know you're falling for me but don't take it literally,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, sat up, and handed him his jacket. “Yeah right, you wish Munson.”

You all stepped out of the vehicle letting out groans as you all stretched your muscles out. Everyone went to their own area of the field. Robin and Steve stayed near the home while filling empty bottles with gasoline and stuffing rags in them. Max and Nancy went a little further out. Nancy was sawing off the barrel of the shotgun you bought while Max watched.

“Is this legal?” Max asked her while holding the old ice chest and the end of the shotgun still.

“Actually, I think it's a felony.”

“Right,” Max said, nodding her head.

“But it guarantees one thing, I won't miss,” she said before she knocked off the barrel with the saw.

Dustin and Eddie were making shields that had nails facing the opposite direction. You let out a giggle when you saw the pair play fighting, both of them trying to make the best out of a moment like this.

You sat with Erica and Lucas, making your own versions of spears for everyone. Erica tried telling you about what she found under Lucas’ bed but he kept screaming every time she mentioned it. Eddie walked up to the three of you with a smile on his face.

“Sinclairs, y/n.” he greeted. “How are the spears coming on?”

Lucas gave him a thumbs up before Erica rolled her eyes at him.

“Flip that damn thumb around.”

Lucas glared at her. “What?”

She handed you the spear she was working on and took Lucas’. “It's too loose Lucas. This isn't a basketball game where they blow the whistle when your shoes fall off.”

You giggled and looked up at Eddie when you saw he offered you a hand. You stood next to him listening to the siblings bickering.

“Okay, for the record my shoes never fell off.”

“Okay, for the record it's kinda hard for your shoes to fall off when you're riding the bench.”

That made Eddie snort.

“And yet for some reason, you show up to every game!”

Erica let out a questionable hum. “Except for the one that mattered, plus mom and dad forced me.”

Lucas shook his head. “Bull! Mom and dad can't force you to do shit!”

Erica smirked. “Well, even though you're a bench riding loser, you're still my brother. Just the facts.” she finished before handing Eddie the spear. You handed her her spear back and ran towards Dustin who was playing with the shield.

“These look sick, dusty!” you said while picking one up.

“Thanks! Eddie was talking about if we had some paint it would look even better.”

You nodded your head trying to figure out what they'd paint on their shields.

You held the shield up in the air and made a surprised noise. “It's light.”

“And durable,” Eddie added. He grabbed the shield from you and handed you the spear Erica gave him.

“No more retreating from Eddie that banished,” he said to himself. You placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“We're gonna clear your name, don't worry. Eddie the banish will soon be Eddie the hero.”

Eddie smiled at you and dropped the shield, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think we'll win?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I've only done this three times, so sorry if I seem a little cocky.”

Eddie chuckled and brought you into a hug. “Never change l/n. Promise me that.”

You pulled away and narrowed your eyes at him. “Only if you promise to stop talking like you're gonna die.”

-

“I just don't get it,” Steve said under his breath.

“Get what?”

Steve looked at robin and furrowed his brows. “He graduated like two years ago.”

“So?”

“So he's in college, which means he was visiting on spring break and fast times was returned like…I don't know, a week ago?”

Robin looked at Steve in disbelief and rolled her eyes.

“Unless she has like, I don't know some horn dog brother that we didn't know of. Which is possible, or she's just really into-”

“Steve!” Robin said, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“What?”

“I don't care!” She put down the bottle she was holding, giving her full attention to Steve. “And I don't understand why you do either with everything that's going on! Honestly,” she said with a sigh. “This feels like the perfect time for that little pull of the rug because in the face of the world ending the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”

Steve looked at her and gave her a small nod. “Yeah, I mean I get you there but I still have hope,” he says while taking a glance at you and handing the bottle he was holding to Robin. A small part of him wants to give up. He wants to let you go and give you the space you need and have you come back whenever you're ready, but there's a much bigger part of him that refuses to let you go. Steve knows he's lost a decent amount of fights, but he will not lose the fight when it comes to you.

He has so many questions running through his head like why does ignoring him hurt him more than the breakup with Nancy did? And when the hell did you and Eddie get so close? He's never even heard you talk about Eddie!

Robin took the bottle with a smirk. “Not everything has a happy ending.”

“Yeah, yeah believe me I know.” he steals another glance at you, rolling his eyes when he sees Eddie throw you over his shoulder while Dustin chants: banish her! Banish her! Banish her!

Robin lets out a breathy laugh and follows Steve's gaze to you.

“I'm not talking about failed romance,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I just, I have this terrible gnawing feeling that…it might not work out for us this time.”

Steve looked at her with fear and confusion visible on his face. “You think we shouldn't be doing this?”

Robin paused, trying to think of the right thing to say knowing they were all a little in too deep now.

“I think we're mad fools, the lot of us,” she said, pouring more gasoline into the bottle. She let out a sigh looking at all of the people she loved and considered her closest friends. “but if we don't stop him, then who will?”

They both chuckled when they saw Dustin fall to the ground, you hopping over him like a game of leapfrog with Eddie not too far behind. Erica and Lucas twirled the spears around and made stabbing motions trying to get used to the feeling of it in their hands, while Nancy practiced aiming the gun Max gave her suggestions here and there.

“We have to try, right?”

Steve gave her a slight nod, his gaze finally meeting hers. “Yeah.” He held up a bottle and tilted it toward her.

“To killing Vecna,”

Robin had a smile on her face as she reached behind her to grab a bottle, clinking it against the one Steve had. “Slash Henry,”

“Slash one.”

-

taglist <3 :

i tried tagging everyone but tumblr couldn't find all of y'all for some reason :( im sorry i hope y'all can still see it tho! <3

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