#like it's not fully in line with his character for him to want to be consumed by what he loves | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hiramaris · 19 hours ago

Text

I can’t read you but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine.

SPECIAL CHAPTER

Chapter Summary:

You have a plan. Check the farm. Leave. Simple. You make it about three steps before stopping again. Your gaze drifts back toward her. She’s smiling softly at the photo she just took, adjusting the camera settings before raising it again. Cute. And the plan? Crumpled. Burnt. Gone. With a sigh, you trudge toward the farm, muttering under your breath, “Looks like I’m going to live on a farm after all.”

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer: I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None. Just a useless lesbian.

Notes:

Ever wonder what the farmer's perspective is about all these? And how you seemed to be there whenever Haley needed you to be. That's just a plain ol' coincidence, right? Right? Well, worry no more, 'cause you're about to find out.

Spring 1

You arrived in Pelican Town with nothing but your suitcase and the stiff suit clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The tie at your throat feels like a noose, and the weight of city life still lingers on your shoulders.

You're far too overdressed for this place. If a crowd existed, you'd stick out like a sore thumb.

The bus sputters off behind you, kicking up a cloud of dust that lingers in the crisp morning air. You watch it disappear down the road, leaving nothing but silence in its wake. No honking cars, no distant chatter, no hum of neon lights. Just birdsong, the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the faint scent of damp earth.

The quiet is unsettling.

Before you can fully process the sheer stillness of the valley, a voice had cut through the air.

"Ah, there you are, Y/N! Welcome to Pelican Town."

An older man—short, with a thick mustache—approached you with an easygoing grin.

"It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Mayor Lewis," he said as he adjust his hat. "I used to be good friends with your grandfather. You probably don’t remember me, but we met once when you were little."

You don’t remember, but you nodded anyway.

Beside him, a woman with fiery red hair pulled into a loose ponytail grinned at you. She held a clipboard under one arm, boots tapping against the dirt road as she sized you up.

"And I’m Robin, the local carpenter," she greeted. "I’ve been fixing up your grandpa’s old place for you. It needed… well, let’s just say a lot of work."

She smirked, and you get the feeling she's holding back from saying something worse.

You shifted your grip on your suitcase. "I appreciate it, but—"

Robin gestured down the road before you can finish. "Come on, let’s head to the mayor’s manor first. Your farm’s just down that path"—she nodded toward a dirt trail on your right—"but the Mayor wanted to talk to you first."

Lewis nodded. "I need to go over a few things with you before I send you off. Won’t take long, promise."

You hesitated but fall into step beside them, your dress shoes crunching against the gravel road. The manor is just down the road, tucked neatly near the town square. Luckily, it's still early. The streets are empty, the town barely waking up. The houses lining the path are quaint, with colorful wooden signs swinging gently in the breeze.

You aren’t sure if it’s the morning chill or something else entirely, but the weight in your chest feels heavier with every step.

Lewis lead you up the short stone steps of the manor and gestures for you to step inside. The air inside is warm, filled with the scent of wood polish and something faintly herbal—tea, maybe. The walls are lined with old photographs, shelves packed with neatly organized town records. It's a lived-in space, one that feels much too welcoming for someone like you.

"Have a seat," Lewis said, motioning toward a wooden chair in front of his desk. He lowered himself into his own chair with a sigh, then rummaged through a drawer before producing a rusty key.

"Here’s the key to your farmhouse," he slid it toward you. "It’s a little run-down, but with some work, you’ll have it back in shape in no time."

You picked up the key, turning it over in your palm. It's cold, the metal worn with age.

Robin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I already stopped by to check the place out—patched up a few things, cleared some of the worst debris." She tilted her head with a teasing smile. "Figured you'd appreciate not falling through the floor on your first night."

You're not sure what to say to that.

Instead, you nodded, offering a polite, "Thanks."

Lewis pulled out a large map and flattened it on the desk in front of you. "Now, Pelican Town isn’t a big place, but you’ll want to familiarize yourself with it. We have a small, tight-knit community here. It’d be good for you to meet the townsfolk." He tapped a few locations on the map. "The general store, the saloon, the blacksmith—these are the places you’ll be visiting the most."

You glanced at the map, taking in the layout of the town. Everything looks so… open. Unlike the structured, rigid grids of the city.

Lewis leaned back in his chair. "I know this is probably a big change for you," he said, his tone softer now. "But we’re glad to have you here. Your grandfather was well-loved in this town."

Your throat tightens at that. You don’t answer.

Instead, you slide the map toward yourself and fold it neatly. "Right," you said, standing. "I should get going. Thank you."

Lewis nodded, rising to his feet as well. "Of course. I won’t keep you."

Robin pushed herself off the doorframe, stretching her arms. "I’ll check in later to see how you’re settling in. Try not to break anything before then."

You’re not sure if she’s joking.

Lewis walked you to the door, and as you step outside, the morning air feels cooler against your skin. The manor may have been warm, but this place still isn’t home.

You glanced at the map in your hand, then at the road ahead.

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

And yet, instead of heading straight there, you decide to take a detour.

The town feels too small, the air too clean, the people too… friendly.

You aren't in the mood for conversation, so instead of taking the main road, you cut through the graveyard. The map shows a southwest path leading directly to the farm—perfect. Less people, less awkward small talk.

Or so you thought.

As you stepped past the last row of tombstones, a door creaked open.

A young woman stepped out from the house ahead (2 Willow Lane, according to the map). Sunlight caught in her golden hair, turning it almost white at the edges. A camera dangled loosely from a strap around her neck, swaying gently as she moves. She lifted it, adjusting the lens, before taking a step forward.

Your breath catches.

You’ve only looked at her for a second—two at most—but it's enough. Your grip tightened on the map. The delicate curve of her nose, the way the breeze tugged a stray strand of hair across her cheek, the soft squint in her eyes as she scanned the sky—somehow, you've already memorized it all.

What the hell?

Panic surges through you, and you do the first thing your brain deems logical.

You snap the map up in front of your face.

Like an idiot.

You peek over the top just in time to see her lift the camera again. The quiet click of the shutter follows, and you realize she’s taking a photo—not of you, thankfully, but of a small potted cactus sitting on her porch.

You exhale sharply, willing your heart to settle.

What was that?

Shaking your head, you lower the map and start walking again, forcing yourself to focus.

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

You make it about three steps before stopping again.

Your gaze drifted back toward her.

She’s smiling softly at the photo she just took, adjusting the camera settings before raising it again.

Cute.

You forced yourself to keep walking, chastising yourself for acting like a creep.

All that gawking, and you didn’t even have the guts to ask for her name.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because the moment you saw her—blond, shiny hair, brilliant blue eyes, and that damn camera swinging from her neck—you knew you were fucked.

The plan?

Crumpled. Burnt. Gone.

With a sigh, you trudged toward the farm, muttering under your breath, “Looks like I’m going to live on a farm after all.”

****

Spring 2

The forest was quiet except for the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the branches.

You had only been here for one day and you were already starting to like it here—the air was cleaner, untouched by the thick smog of the city, and the silence was more comforting than suffocating.

You crouched by the riverbank, palm open as the tiny squirrel sniffed at the wild walnuts resting in your hand.

It had taken patience to earn the little guy’s trust. Just yesterday, wildlife scattered the moment you approached, unfamiliar with you, an outsider. But now, after some consistence of offering food and waiting, they hesitated a little less, inched a little closer.

This one, in particular, had grown bold. His tiny paws brushed against your fingers as he picked up a walnut, nibbling it with twitching whiskers.

A small smile pulled at your lips.

Then—click.

The sound was sharp, foreign. Unmistakable.

Your body reacted before your brain caught up, head snapping toward the source.

Someone was standing just beyond the clearing, partially hidden by the trees.

A girl.

Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, camera raised.

Recognition hit you a second later.

The girl with the camera.

The one you saw yesterday, standing on her porch, light catching in her hair as she focused on something behind the lens.

Despite the many faces introduced to you yesterday, her face stood out in clarity on most of them.

It's funny how you can remember her despite not knowing her name.

But now she was here. And she had just taken a picture of you.

You blinked at her. She blinked back.

Neither of you moved.

The squirrel let out a startled squeak and bolted into the underbrush. You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of three remaining walnuts still sitting in your open palm.

Then, finally—

"Uhm," you started, voice breaking the tension. You straightened, dusting dirt from your hands. Now that you were standing, you realized just how much shorter she was up close.

And prettier.

Still, she didn't say a word. Just stared.

A nervous chuckle left your lips. “You’re the girl with the camera yesterday, right?”

She nodded, slow, like her brain was still buffering.

You tilted your head slightly, studying her.

“Oh… You’re that new farmer girl or whatever, aren’t you?” she said, almost absently.

She stood there, staring at you like you had grown a second head, blue eyes flickering over every detail of your face, your clothes—lingering too long, like she was trying to piece something together.

You didn’t understand why she was looking at you like that, but for some reason, you kept talking anyway.

You told her about your grandfather. About how this farm wasn’t planned, how Zuzu City had drained you dry, leaving you with nothing but exhaustion and a letter promising a different life.

You weren’t even sure why you were explaining yourself. Maybe because her presence—so out of place in the middle of the woods—reminded you of who you used to be. Or rather who you are yesterday. The city life, the carefully curated image, the feeling of being misplaced in your own skin.

But Haley wasn’t listening, at least, that’s what you thought.

She was nodding absently, her eyes locked onto your face, mouth slightly parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Then you smiled.

A small, amused smile—not at her, not at anything in particular, just at the absurdity of the moment. Of being here, talking to some blonde girl in the woods who looked like she belonged on a magazine cover rather than in Cindersap Forest.

And just like that, something shifted in her expression.

It was so fast, you almost missed it.

Something too bright flashed behind her eyes—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Shock? Embarrassment? Frustration?

Whatever it was, she reacted to it the way a cornered animal might—by striking first.

"If it weren't for those horrendous clothes, you might actually be pretty."

The words hit you like she slapped you. Hard.

Your smile faltered, dropping so fast you almost felt the sting of it.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Excuse me?"

You didn’t raise your voice, but there was an edge to it now—something sharp and unforgiving.

Haley shifted slightly, like she suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. "Actually, never mind," she muttered quickly, brushing it off.

You watched her for a moment longer before exhaling slowly, fingers tightening around the strap of your rucksack.

Maybe this was just how she was. Maybe she hadn’t meant anything by it.

Or maybe she had.

Either way, you weren’t going to waste your energy on it.

Without a word, you reached into your bag and pulled out a daffodil—bright yellow, delicate in your palm, freshly picked from the clearing earlier.

You held it out to her.

"For me?" she asked, voice quieter than before.

You nodded. “Hmm. It kinda looks like you.”

Something in her shifted again.

This time, when she looked at you, it wasn’t annoyance or scrutiny. It was something else. Something softer.

And you find yourself staring a little longer than you should have. Studying her.

She said thank you. You hummed in acknowledgment. But you didn’t smile this time. It felt wrong to fake it.

The silence stretched between you, heavy, thick with something unspoken.

Then, finally, you broke it. "It's my grandpa's."

She frowned slightly. "What?"

You gestured vaguely to your clothes. "These. They were his."

You saw the realization settle in her eyes.

Understanding. Then, maybe, guilt.

"I moved here with nothing but myself after I decided spontaneously that I can't live a life as I had in Zuzu's." You admitted, exhaling a quiet chuckle. "Didn’t plan on it. Just… happened."

"I—"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so grim." This time, when you smiled, it was small. Distant. But it was real. "Uhm, sorry to cut this short but" you stared at your watch. "I still have to tidy the farm up; you know it's not exactly the cleanest place right now. I just took a break to feed the little guy. I'll catch you later, Haley."

She didn’t respond. You didn’t expect her to.

As you turned and walked away, you felt her eyes on your back the entire time.

You let out a small smile despite it all. She has a pretty foul mouth.

But pretty, nonetheless.

****

Spring 7

The walk from the farm cabin to Leah's cabin was peaceful, the kind of quiet you had come to appreciate since moving here.

You decided to stop by to drop off some fresh salad. Leah had been kind enough to show you the best places to forage when you first arrived, and you figured it was a decent way to return the favor. She had smiled warmly, thanked you, and invited you to stay for a while, but you had politely declined.

Too much work still needed to be done back home.

With the sun hanging high in the sky, you adjusted the strap of your rucksack and started toward the river, figuring you’d take a little break.

The river had always been a place of quiet for you.

After spending the past few days buried in work—clearing debris, tilling soil, hauling supplies back and forth—the stillness of Cindersap Forest was a welcome break.

And that’s when you spotted her.

Haley.

She was crouched near the water, camera in hand, completely absorbed in whatever she was trying to capture. The focused expression on her face was one you hadn’t seen before—her lips slightly parted, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was… different.

Before you could even think about calling out to her, she suddenly stiffened.

She had seen you.

And then—she ignored you.

Then again, you hadn’t expected much of anything when it came to Haley.

You had assumed, after your last encounter, that she’d brush the whole thing off. That you’d become another passing thought, a minor inconvenience in her otherwise polished life. But the way she looked at you in the forest that day… the way she hesitated, the way her lips had parted slightly in something close to regret—it stuck with you longer than it should have.

You haven’t seen her for days. Not that you were counting.

Not that you’d been avoiding her.

No, you were just busy.

Busy enough that you hadn’t gone out of your way to see her, or anyone in particular for that matter.

You watched as she very purposefully looked anywhere but in your direction, her hands tightening slightly around her camera, adjusting the lens like she was just so busy she couldn’t possibly be bothered to acknowledge your presence.

You almost laughed.

Seriously?

The past few days, you had gotten the feeling that she had been looking for you—whether it was in passing comments from the townsfolk or the way you caught glimpses of her lingering near places you know she normally wouldn’t be. But now, when you were literally a few feet away? She suddenly had nothing to say?

Fine.

If she wanted to pretend she didn’t see you, you weren’t going to stop her.

You smirked slightly and kept walking, letting her think she had the upper hand.

Except then—

Her foot slipped.

The wet ground beneath her gave way, and you barely had time to register what was happening before she was stumbling forward, arms flailing, panic flashing across her face.

Her camera—her expensive, very breakable camera—was still strapped around her neck, and if she fell, it wouldn’t just be her hitting the water.

Without thinking, your hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist in a firm grip as you yanked her toward you.

The force of it sent her stumbling forward, right into your chest.

For a second, neither of you moved.

You could feel her breath—sharp, uneven—as she processed what had just happened. Her hands were pressed against your chest, her camera strap tangled between you, and for some reason, she wasn’t pulling away immediately.

"That was a close one," you said, your own heartbeat a little faster than normal.

She jerked back like she had been burned, separating from you so quickly that it was almost comical. "I—I..."

"You okay?"

"I am!" she answered too quickly, laughing nervously.

You tilted your head, watching her fidget. Haley was always composed, always sure of herself—but right now? Right now, she looked like she had no idea what to do.

"Thank you, um..." she trailed off, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

You raised an eyebrow. "It's Y/n, remember?"

Something flickered across her face—annoyance? Embarrassment? Both?

"Of course, I remember," she scoffed, tilting her chin slightly. "I was just… I haven't seen you since whatever and—" she huffed, crossing her arms before realizing her camera was in the way and dropping them again. "I was still shocked, okay?"

You fought back a smirk. "Wait, so you were looking for me?"

The way she reacted was immediate. "No!"

You smirked. Right.

"Well," you said casually, throwing her a sideways glance, "if you were wondering, I was actually busy tidying up the farm. Brought over some things I left in the city."

"Okay." She shrugged, still pretending to be indifferent. "As I said, I wasn’t looking for you or anything."

Your chuckle was genuine this time. "Right, right."

She looked like she wanted to smack the smirk off your face.

"You should be careful next time, though."

"I know." She huffed, brushing her hands off on her skirt. "I was just taking a picture of..."

She turned to point at her subject—only to realize it was gone.

"Great," she grumbled. "It’s gone."

You followed her gaze. "What is?"

"The squirrel!" she flailed, frustration seeping into her tone. "I've been trying to get the perfect shot for hours!"

You hummed in acknowledgment before reaching into your pocket. "Here."

She blinked at the handful of walnuts in your palm, then at you.

"You want me to eat these?"

You chuckled. "No, princess. Hold them out."

She frowned but did as you asked. Without warning, you reached out, wrapping your fingers over hers, positioning her hand so the walnuts rested properly in her palm.

Haley froze.

She didn’t pull away.

You ignored the way your own skin felt too warm from the contact and crouched down beside her, clicking your tongue a few times.

"Just wait a second," you murmured. "They’ll come back."

And sure enough, a moment later, another squirrel peeked out from behind a tree, its tiny nose twitching.

Haley inhaled softly, watching with wide eyes as the small creature scampered closer.

She was entranced.

You found yourself watching her instead.

"It's so cute," she murmured, and for the first time since you met her, the smile on her lips wasn’t forced, wasn’t teasing or sarcastic.

It was real.

Your own smile tugged at the corners of your mouth before you could stop it. "Aren’t they?"

She raised her camera, snapping a quick shot, and you watched as she checked the viewfinder, her brows furrowing in concentration.

"Wow, this looks good." You murmured, stepping behind her to look over her shoulder. "I'm glad you made good use of the natural lighting. Squirrels get frightened a lot with flash."

You didn’t realize how close you had gotten until she suddenly stiffened.

"Kiss ass much?" she muttered, but her voice was quieter than before.

You cleared your throat, pulling back slightly, ears burning. "I'm not—I..." you trailed off, shaking your head. "It's a good photo, okay?"

Haley let out a laugh—loud, unrestrained, warm.

You pretended to be offended. "Haha," you deadpanned, stepping back like you were going to leave.

Immediately, her hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist for just a second.

"I was kidding!" she said quickly, still laughing. "Yoba, you're so serious."

You looked down at her hand, then back up at her face, before shaking your head with a grin.

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am too."

The back-and-forth continued, and you weren’t sure why it felt so easy.

When had that happened?

Eventually, you sighed dramatically. "You win, woman."

She grinned in triumph. "Ha, I’m always right anyway."

You rolled your eyes but found yourself watching her again, really watching her, and noticing something different.

You couldn't help but think if she had always been like this and you just never noticed.

Or you had been quick to judge her.

Because the Haley you had come to know the past days wasn’t supposed to be this.

Not this close, not this real, not this... beautiful.

You had seen her before—the perfectly put-together version, always polished, always poised. The kind of person who moved like the world bent to her whims, the kind who scoffed at things that didn’t fit into her carefully curated life.

But this Haley?

This was different.

Windblown hair, dirt smudged against the sleeve of a designer outfit that probably wasn’t meant for trekking through the forest. The usual sharpness in her eyes was softened, replaced with something brighter—something curious.

And damn it, you found yourself staring.

You caught yourself just in time, turning away—only to realize she was staring, too.

Your brows furrowed slightly. Was she…?

"Is there something on my face?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, genuine confusion lacing your tone.

She blinked rapidly, snapping out of whatever daze she had fallen into. "You're fine," she said quickly, her voice a little too forced, a little too rushed.

You frowned slightly, touching your jaw as if doubting her response.

She huffed, rolling her eyes before reaching into her purse. "Oh, for Yoba’s sake," she muttered, stepping forward.

Before you could react, she was dabbing at your jawline with a small handkerchief.

Your body froze.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, the touch featherlight but warm. She was standing too close now—close enough that you could see the way her lashes fluttered slightly, the way she chewed the inside of her cheek in concentration.

You should step back.

You should.

But you didn’t.

Instead, before you could think better of it, your fingers moved on instinct, pulling a daffodil from your pocket.

And then, just as easily, you tucked it behind her ear.

She froze.

For a split second, you almost regretted it.

Almost.

"As a thank you," you said quietly.

It sounded stupid the moment it left your lips.

You immediately sputtered out something else—some excuse, some way to make this moment not feel as heavy as it did—but your brain was too busy cursing itself into oblivion to form anything coherent.

She startled you again by responding just as frantically, as if she was the one who had overstepped. Something about how she touched you first, how she was just wiping your face, as if that evened things out.

Neither of you made any damn sense.

Then she reached into her bag, pulling out something small.

A photograph.

You hesitated before taking it, eyes widening a little when you realize who’s in it.

It was you.

From the other day.

You stared.

Seeing yourself through someone else’s lens was… strange. You looked at your own expression, the way the light framed your face, the rawness of it all. It didn’t feel posed, didn’t feel artificial.

You wanted to ask her—is this how you see me?

Instead, you swallowed down the words and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Keep it," she said, voice steadier than before. "Please, it's the least I could do after taking that shot without your consent."

Consent.

Funny. That wasn’t something people in the city had cared much about. But she said it so easily, so naturally, like it was just given.

Your lips tugged into a small, genuine smile. You met her eyes, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

"Thank you," you murmured.

And in response, she didn’t roll her eyes.

For the first time, you saw something else—a brief flicker of relief, like she had been waiting for you to say it.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, you glanced back down at the photo, running your thumb over the edge of it. That’s when you noticed something.

There was writing on the back.

You barely had time to tilt it before she panicked.

"No problem! Uhm, I still need to cook for lunch, yeah," she blurted out.

It was still morning.

You weren’t going to correct her.

She was already stepping back, clutching the daffodil in her hair like she had only just remembered it was there. "Thank you again for helping me and for the… saving thing. I’ll… I’ll see you around, yeah?"

She bowed slightly—actually bowed—before turning on her heel and walking away.

You blinked.

Did she just…?

You exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking your head as you watched her retreat.

You weren’t even sure if she heard your response.

Maybe you should have teased her about how she had absolutely been looking for you.

But then again…

You had been looking for her, too.

And you liked looking at her.

****

Spring 8

You weren’t exactly expecting much when you walked into town that afternoon.

The note Haley left on the back of the photo had been unexpected enough—an apology, a breakfast invitation. It wasn’t something you thought she’d do, let alone so soon after that flustered mess of an interaction yesterday. You had read it more than once, half-wondering if she regretted writing it the second she left it in your hands.

Still, you had considered showing up, maybe knocking on her door just to see her reaction.

But something about the way she wrote if you’re free told you she wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

So, you didn’t go.

Not today, anyway.

Instead, you had been running errands—picking up some supplies, stopping by the community board—when you spotted something familiar near the playground. A stray hair tie, tangled around the corner of the bench.

And there, sitting on the swings, was Haley.

She looked… relaxed. Not posing for anything, not trying to capture the perfect shot. Just there, with the spring breeze tugging at the loose strands of her hair, her blue tank top bright against the muted colors of the playground. It wasn’t a place you expected to see her, but somehow, it suited her.

And for some reason, you found yourself staring longer than necessary.

You shook the thought away and approached, holding up the hair tie and the daffodils you had picked up earlier.

"Uh, Haley?"

She stiffened immediately like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

Slowly, she turned to face you. "Oh… hi there," she said, her voice cautious, as if she weren’t entirely sure how to react to you being here.

You barely noticed her initial reaction, already launching into a casual question about whether the hair tie was hers.

She didn’t respond right away, but that was fine. You figured she just needed a second to realize she’d lost it in the first place.

So, you kept talking, mentioning where you found it, all while loosely holding the daffodils at your side.

You noticed her watching you, gaze flickering over you in a way that almost felt calculating, but you assumed she was just listening.

For a second, you could’ve sworn she lingered on your mouth—but that was ridiculous.

Right?

Her expression shifted slightly, something unreadable passing over her features. But instead of answering, she glanced past you, eyes locking onto something in the distance.

You were about to turn, to see what had caught her attention, when—

"Uhm, how do I say this…"

You blinked at her sudden change in tone.

"I appreciate your gifts and such," she continued, shifting uncomfortably. "But please don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like a little flower will make us besties or anything, you know."

You blinked.

What?

The words hung awkwardly between you, and for a second, you weren’t sure whether to be confused or amused.

Your gaze flicked down to the daffodils in your hand, then back at her.

"Uhm," you started, trying not to grin, "I was just asking if this is your hair tie."

Haley visibly froze.

"Oh!" she squeaked—actually squeaked—before yanking the hair tie from your fingers like it had personally insulted her. "I didn’t even notice it was missing…"

Her cheeks were turning pink.

You tilted your head slightly, watching her fidget. She was embarrassed—deeply embarrassed—but instead of backing down, you decided to push just a little.

"You were saying…?"

The look she gave you was caught somewhere between a glare and complete mortification.

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions,"she muttered quickly, barely meeting your eyes. "I was just… well, never mind."

You chuckled, still not entirely sure what just happened but deciding to let it go.

"Hey, you weren’t wrong." Before she could overthink it, you held out the daffodils. "These are actually for you."

Her fingers twitched slightly but hesitated before taking them.

"And I’m not expecting you to be friends with me just because I give you flowers, you know?"

"Then what else were you expecting?"

The question should’ve sounded snappy, but her voice came muffled this time as she buried her nose in the petals.

You grinned, shifting your weight slightly. "Ever heard of giving a pretty flower to a pretty lady?"

From somewhere behind you, there was a distinct sound.

Something like—

A snort?

Only then did you notice movement from the corner of your eye.

Demetrius.

He was walking past, definitely within earshot, and judging by the way he was fighting back a laugh, he had heard everything.

Haley let out a long, suffering sigh, pressing the flowers closer to her face like they could somehow erase the last two minutes of her life.

But she wasn’t throwing them back at you.

She wasn’t storming off, either.

Instead, she stood there, half-hidden behind the petals, golden hair catching the sunlight in a way that made the moment feel surreal.

Weird.

How can someone be prettier next to a pretty flower?

****

Spring 9

You finally decided to accept Haley’s invitation.

It had been sitting in the back of your mind since she gave you the photo—her apology, neat but uncertain, scrawled onto the back like she had debated every word before leaving it in your hands.

You didn’t take her for the type to apologize easily.

Or at all, really.

But she had.

And if she had gone through the trouble of inviting you to breakfast, the least you could do was show up.

So, on Spring 9, you knocked on the door of 2 Willow Lane.

Emily answered, bright and welcoming as always. “Hey, Y/n! Come in, come in,” she chirped, already moving toward the kitchen. “Tea?”

You hesitated, glancing past her toward the small dining area. The house wasn’t big, only a few rooms. If Haley was here, she’d be just past the kitchen, maybe in her bedroom or the bathroom, but nowhere far enough to not have heard the knock.

“She’ll be out in a sec,” Emily assured you.

So, you waited.

And waited.

And by the time you reached the bottom of your mug, Emily was giving you an apologetic smile, one that silently said, Yeah… she’s not coming out.

You left soon after.

The next morning, you tried again.

This time, Emily didn’t even pretend. She cracked the door open, sighed, and leaned against the frame.

“She’s… busy.”

Which was just code for hiding.

You didn’t have to peek inside to know Haley was there. The way Emily shifted like she was blocking the view, the faintest rustle of movement from the other side of the house—it was obvious.

Emily gave you a knowing look, half amused, half exasperated.

You just smiled, adjusted your satchel, and said, “No worries. Tell her I stopped by.”

And that was that.

You didn’t try again after that.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice her.

You saw the way she turned away when she spotted you from across the bridge.

The way she peeked through her window, only to snap the curtain shut when she realized you were looking back.

The way she hesitated—for just a second—whenever you passed by, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how.

You weren’t sure whether to be amused or frustrated.

She was avoiding you.

That much was obvious.

What wasn’t obvious was why.

So instead of focusing on it, you spent the rest of the day helping Penny.

If Haley was going to keep her distance, you weren’t going to waste time chasing her.

Penny was one of the first people to welcome you to Pelican Town, long before anyone else had warmed up to you. She was quiet, kind, and had an easy presence—one that made it effortless to spend time with her.

On most afternoons, you could be found helping her with Vincent and Jas’s lessons under the big tree outside her trailer. Not because she asked you to, but because you liked it.

She always seemed so grateful, even though you barely did anything.

Which was why you were more than a little surprised when she wasn’t entirely thrilled to see you today.

"You look tired," she observed as you sat down beside her, a book resting in her lap.

You raised a brow. "Do I?"

Penny hummed, giving you a once-over. "You’ve been… distracted lately."

You blinked.

You hadn't expected her to notice.

"I’ve been busy," you said, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Penny gave you a look. A soft, knowing look that made you feel like she could read right through you.

She didn’t push. She never did.

Instead, she simply turned her attention back to the book and said, “the kids are late again. Want to read until they gets here?”

And that was that.

You didn’t bring up Haley.

And Penny didn’t ask.

But later, as you helped Jas with her spelling, you caught Penny watching you, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at her lips.

You had a feeling she knew exactly what was on your mind.

Maybe even better than you did.

****

Haley was still avoiding you.

By now, you were starting to wonder if she thought you were some kind of curse she needed to outrun.

You still weren’t sure what you did to make her act like this.

She had been fine at the playground. She had been flustered, sure, but she had laughed with you, teased you, even handed you a photo like it actually meant something.

And then, suddenly, she was gone.

It wasn’t like you had time to dwell on it, though.

Between the farm, errands, and helping Penny with her lessons, your days were full. You spent the morning delivering leeks to Evelyn, knowing she liked to cook them for George. You spent the afternoon tending to the crops and making sure you didn’t completely ruin the fencing you had hastily built last week.

And now?

Now you were standing in front of the community board, scanning over Pierre’s latest overpriced sale, when a voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"You’re doing it again."

You turned to find Penny standing beside you, arms crossed, her expression patient but pointed.

"Doing what?"

"Spacing out," she said simply.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "You should stop paying so much attention to me."

Penny just smiled. "I can’t help it when you’re so obvious."

You gave her a look.

She returned it, unbothered.

After a moment, you sighed and leaned against the board.

"You ever get the feeling that someone’s avoiding you?" you asked.

Penny tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"

You weren’t sure why you asked.

Maybe because you knew Penny wouldn’t tease you for it. Maybe because you knew she’d actually give you an answer worth listening to.

Or maybe because she had already figured it out, and you didn’t feel like pretending otherwise.

Instead of answering immediately, Penny tapped her chin in thought.

"If someone is avoiding you," she said slowly, "there are usually two reasons."

You raised a brow, waiting.

"Either they don’t like you," she said, glancing at you, "or they like you too much."

Your breath caught—just for a second.

Penny noticed.

And she smirked. You know it’s bad when Penny smirks out you. She never does that after all.

You groaned, running a hand down your face. "Penny. Come on."

"What?" she laughed, shrugging. "I’m just saying."

You shook your head, not entirely sure whether to be annoyed or impressed.

And yet, as Penny walked off, you found yourself staring at the daffodils blooming just a few feet away.

The same ones you had given Haley.

The same ones she had buried her nose in, pretending she wasn’t flustered.

The same ones that, for some reason, made your stomach twist.

Either they don’t like you…

Or they like you too much.

You weren’t sure which one was worse.

But you were pretty sure you were about to find out.

****

Spring 12

You hadn’t planned on stopping by 2 Willow Lane today.

But after running errands near the town square, you figured—why not? It wasn’t like you were doing anything urgent back on the farm, and besides… you still owed Haley a proper conversation after she practically disappeared for the last few days.

The last time you saw her, she was stuffing her face into a bunch of daffodils and acting like she wasn’t flustered. Now? You weren’t entirely sure what to expect.

Maybe today would be different.

So, you knocked.

“Hello?”

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by two very different expressions—Emily’s, which was polite but amused, and Haley’s, which looked… well, looked like she was about to strangle someone—possibly you, but more likely Emily.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.”

You blinked at Haley’s blunt answer.

Emily let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temple. “Sorry about that, Y/n/n. Haley’s just complaining because I asked her to clean the cushions—”

“—which you should be doing because it’s your schedule, not mine.” Haley cut in sharply, sending her sister a glare. She then turned to you, her blue eyes sharp and expectant. “It’s important to mention that I already cleaned them last week.”

“Haley…”

“Shut it, Em. I want to hear what she has to say.”

You blinked.

Oh.

This was a thing.

Emily looked exasperated, while Haley looked… weirdly eager?

Did she actually want your opinion on this?

For a second, you hesitated, glancing between them. The last thing you wanted was to somehow make things worse, but at the same time, Haley was looking at you like she really wanted to be validated right now.

"Well," you started carefully, trying to find a middle ground, "why not have this be your one weekly job?"

Haley’s face immediately dropped.

Oh.

Not the answer she wanted, then.

Before you could backtrack, she turned on her heel, clearly done with the conversation.

And for some reason, that didn’t sit right with you.

Without really thinking, you reached out and grabbed her hand.

She froze.

"W-wait," you stammered, suddenly realizing what you’d just done. “I’m not siding with anyone."

Haley stared down at your hands, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she looked back up at you, skeptical. "Sure."

You swallowed. "I just thought it’d be the best course of action, so you two don’t have to argue over it again. If you took this job, Emily wouldn’t bother you again with cleaning the bathroom every two days. Right, Em?"

“Yeah!” Emily agreed immediately, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

You turned back to Haley, watching as her lips twitched—like she was this close to smiling, but was too stubborn to let it show.

“Doesn’t that sound more appealing?” you prompted.

For a second, Haley didn’t say anything. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, she shrugged.

“Alright, you win.”

Emily squinted at her, as if trying to figure out how you had gotten her to agree so quickly. Then, to your surprise, she turned to you with an almost appreciative look. “Thanks, Y/n/n. That was a great solution.”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s no problem, really.”

Emily clapped her hands together. “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”

You opened your mouth to decline, but before you could, Haley spoke.

“Your hands are rough and warm.”

You blinked.

“…Huh?”

Haley’s eyes widened slightly, and then, for the first time, you actually saw her panic.

“I mean—what I meant to say was—” She sputtered, tripping in every sense of the word before taking a deep breath to let out a composed response. “Yeah, you can join us for breakfast.”

You saw Emily smirked and gave Haley a look. “Good! Then I’ll get on with it. Haley, keep our guest occupied.”

“You sure?” you asked when you saw the hesitation in her eyes.

If she's still uncomfortable around your presence then you would politely dip out. You got all the time in the world after all.

“Of course.”

“…Okay,” you said slowly, though something about the way her face was slightly pink made you really want to tease her about it. Instead, you nudged her lightly. “How about we clean these cushions now? So, you won’t have to later?”

Haley scoffed. “Eh. It’s fine. I can do that later.”

“I insist. Two pairs of hands are better than one, y’know?”

“Ugh. Of course you’d say some dorky crap like that,” she grumbled, but you could hear the slightest waver in her voice, like she was fighting back a smile.

You only laughed, moving to lift the couch.

****

Spring 13

You hadn’t really thought about birthdays before moving to Pelican Town.

Back in the city, they had been just another day—sometimes an excuse for coworkers to bring in cake, but mostly just something you marked on a calendar and then forgot.

But here? Here, birthdays mattered.

You had been scanning the community board at Pierre’s when you first saw it—"Haley’s Birthday – Spring 14."

It was written in neat, careful script, decorated with little doodles of flowers in the corners.

For a second, you just stared at it.

You could have ignored it. You weren’t really friends. Acquaintances, sure—closer than before, but still hovering in that weird in-between where it wasn’t clear if she actually liked you or just tolerated you.

But then you thought about the coconut-themed bandage she forced you to wear a few days ago.

Your forehead still had a faint scab from when you accidentally ran headfirst into a low-hanging branch while foraging. Haley had been the only person around when it happened, and instead of laughing at you like she definitely wanted to, she had sighed dramatically, muttered something about “idiots getting themselves killed,” and yanked you inside her house to clean it up.

You still remembered her standing over you, scrutinizing her first-aid kit before pulling out a very unnecessary selection of bandages.

"Sunflowers or coconuts?" she had asked, dead serious.

"That’s… the only choice?"

"Obviously. Pick one."

You had sighed, pointed at the coconut-themed one, and watched as she carefully placed it over your cut like it was some sort of delicate surgical procedure.

"You’re officially less ugly now," she had declared, patting your cheek before walking off.

It had been ridiculous.

But for some reason, you had thought about it again when you saw her name on the birthday list.

So, naturally, you did the most insane thing possible and spent majority of the day trying to find a coconut for her.

Spring 14 - Early Morning

Your quest to find her a perfect gift yesterday had been nothing short of a failure.

Coconuts weren’t local here, after all.

You had checked everywhere (except Joja’s, of course)—Pierre’s, even asking Pam in case she’d somehow stumbled across one.

"Calico Desert," she had said. "That’s where you’ll find ‘em. But unless you got wings, kid, you ain’t getting there anytime soon."

Right. The bus was still out of service.

You made a mental note to prioritize that when working on the community center. Maybe the Junimos could help.

But for now?

You needed another plan.

The traveling merchant.

Marlon had once mentioned her in passing—"If you’re looking for something rare, something out of season, she’s your girl. But she doesn’t sell cheap."

You had barely waited for sunrise before setting out to find her, boots crunching against the damp forest floor as you took the back route toward Cindersap.

By the time you arrived, she was already setting up shop, humming a tune under her breath.

She barely looked up as she greeted you. "Back so soon?"

No time for pleasantries.

"Please tell me you have a coconut in stock," you said, then hastily added, "or a sunflower."

She let out a low hum, tapping her chin, drawing out the moment just to toy with you.

"Mmm… you’re in luck. Got a few coconuts left. But they aren’t cheap."

Of course, they weren’t.

Didn’t matter.

You pulled out the pouch from your pocket, untying the string with practiced ease. The weight of it was familiar, comfortable.

More than enough.

The merchant raised an amused brow as you handed over the payment without hesitation.

"Didn’t even ask the price, huh?"

You just smiled, rolling the coconut in your palm, satisfied.

"Didn’t need to."

It was plump, perfectly shaped—exactly the kind of thing you imagined Haley would appreciate. You even took the time to wrap it (poorly) with a ribbon you found lying around in your house.

It looked ridiculous.

But handing it to her unwrapped felt even weirder.

And now?

All that was left was to find her.

Late Morning

You checked the beach first.

Then the town square.

Then the entire stretch of road leading to Marnie’s ranch.

Nothing.

You were starting to wonder if she had just locked herself in her house all day when, finally, you spotted a familiar blonde figure sitting on a bench in the playground.

Huh, this scene feels familiar.

For some reason, the sight made you pause.

She wasn’t posing. She wasn’t talking to anyone.

She was just there, her arms loosely wrapped around her knees, her gaze distant.

For a moment, you considered turning around.

But instead, you stepped forward.

"Thought I’d find you here."

She looked up, startled, before quickly masking it with an indifferent shrug. “Done with your chores?”

You plopped down beside her. "Woke up extra early to finish them all."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why? You have plans?"

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

"Had to run some errands," you said, reaching into your rucksack, "and I wanted to give you this."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Give me your hands."

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

That sounded way too serious. Way too something.

And then, to make things even worse, you followed up with:

"Just trust me, Hay."

Oh, Yoba. No. Abort. Abort.

Why did you say that? You never called her that before.

She was definitely going to call you out for it. Or roll her eyes. Or—

…Or she’d just listen.

Because, to your absolute shock, she sighed and held out her hands.

You barely had time to process your overwhelming relief before you carefully placed the coconut in her palms.

She blinked.

Stared down at it.

And then, for the first time since you met her, she seemed completely, utterly speechless.

"I… I love coconuts."

You exhaled a quiet laugh, suddenly feeling like maybe—maybe—this was worth all the trouble. "I know."

She clutched it a little tighter. "How did you know?"

You rubbed the back of your neck, feeling weirdly shy. "Remember when you patched up my cut? You made me pick between a sunflower band-aid or a coconut one. So, I kinda assumed they were your favorite."

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “B-but how? You can’t just summon a coconut tree, and there’s no way you had time to go to the desert—"

"It was pure luck," you admitted. "The traveling merchant had a few in stock. But she warned me they’d sell out before noon, so I got there early."

Her fingers traced the edges of the ribbon, her expression soft.

Then, almost too quietly, she murmured, “Thank you. It’s really sweet of you to do all this.”

"No problem. I like it when you smile." You shrugged, trying to play it off. "Happiness looks good in you."

Something flickered in her eyes.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

The park was quiet, the sun warm against your skin.

And in that stillness, you realized something—

You weren’t just acquaintances anymore.

You weren’t quite friends, either.

But whatever this was?

It was something.

****

It had started as a casual thing.

You never really planned on showing up at 2 Willow Lane every morning.

But after that first breakfast—where Emily practically shoved a plate in your hands and Haley begrudgingly tolerated your presence—you just… kept coming back.

At first, it had been an excuse to escape the overwhelming solitude of the farm. Waking up at dawn, toiling in the fields, eating alone—it was fine. But it wasn’t exactly fun.

The mornings here were different.

Emily would hum while cooking, always somehow awake and cheerful despite her late-night shifts at the saloon. Haley, on the other hand, would sit at the table looking half-asleep, hair an absolute mess, grumbling about how “humans shouldn’t be awake before 9.”

It was domestic. Easy. Nice.

And you liked it.

So, you kept coming back.

And for some reason, Haley never told you to stop.

Which was weird, because Haley Carter absolutely would have told you to stop if she actually wanted to.

Emily must’ve noticed something too, because one morning, after you had helped clean up the dishes, she pulled you aside with a conspiratorial grin.

"Haley's a little calmer when you're around, Y/n/n."

You had laughed, shaking your head. "I think she just doesn’t want me to see her throwing a spoon at you."

Emily only winked.

And maybe—just maybe—Haley had heard, because the next day, when you showed up at their door like usual, she muttered something under her breath before letting you in.

Something suspiciously close to "You’re late."

****

The thing about Pelican Town was that it had a rhythm.

People followed routines here. Maru always took the same route to work. Jodi always went grocery shopping on Mondays. Penny always had her class under the big tree at the same time each day.

And Haley?

Haley had patterns too.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

That every time you turned a corner and saw her, it was just luck.

But after a while, you started to realize that maybe—maybe—you had started to learn her habits without meaning to.

Like how she always went to the riverbank after lunch if it was sunny.

Or how she stopped by Pierre’s around noon but only ever bought fruit.

Or how she took the long way home through the park when she thought nobody was looking.

You weren’t following her or anything. That would be weird.

But sometimes, your paths just… lined up.

And, more and more, it started feeling less like an accident.

Because instead of rolling her eyes and storming off like she used to, Haley had started doing something else entirely.

She started stopping.

Not always. Not every time.

But sometimes—when you greeted her in passing or made some dumb joke—she’d actually pause, sigh dramatically, and talk to you.

Complain about the weather. Ask if you had seen Alex. Casually mention that she had "accidentally" taken a picture of you feeding the squirrels and no, you definitely couldn’t see it.

And if she really wasn’t in the mood?

Well.

She still didn’t walk away.

****

You stood outside 2 Willow Lane, balancing a small crate in your arms as you knocked lightly before pushing the door open.

Haley was already at the table, sipping what looked like a strawberry smoothie. She glanced up as you entered, giving you a once-over before looking back at her drink.

“You’re late.”

You blinked.

"...It’s 8:07."

"Exactly."

You huffed out a laugh, kicking the door shut behind you as you set the crate down on the counter.

Emily peeked over from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh! More eggs and milk?”

“Figured it’s only fair,” you shrugged. “Can’t keep letting you guys feed me for free.”

Emily waved you off. “Oh, please. You’re basically family at this point.”

Haley made a noise suspiciously close to a choke.

You didn’t comment on it.

Instead, you slid into your usual seat as Emily set a plate of pancakes in front of you with a satisfied grin.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew it.

This was a routine now.

And neither of you seemed to mind.

****

Mornings at 2 Willow Lane had become second nature by now.

You didn't even hesitate before knocking, pushing the door open with a familiar ease, half-expecting Emily’s usual cheery greeting.

But instead of Emily, the first thing you heard was Haley grunting.

A frustrated, muffled noise, followed by a sharp “Come on, just open already!”

You stopped mid-step, blinking.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had walked into, but based on the sheer determination in her voice, it was either a battle for her life… or a particularly stubborn jar.

Considering this was Haley, the latter seemed more likely.

Peering into the kitchen, your suspicions were confirmed.

Haley stood at the counter, face scrunched up in frustration, gripping a jar like it had personally wronged her. She twisted the lid with all the strength she could muster, letting out another huff when it refused to budge.

You bit back a laugh, watching for a moment as she scowled at the object like sheer hatred alone might force it to open.

Yeah, this was too good to pass up.

"You need some help?" you finally spoke up, amusement thick in your voice.

Haley jumped.

She turned quickly, blue eyes wide with surprise before she covered it up with an exaggerated scowl.

"Ugh. How does it feel seeing me in pain?"

You grinned. There it is.

"Aw, does the baby need help?" you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

That was a mistake.

The look she shot you could have incinerated you on the spot.

"Hmp," she scoffed, holding the jar closer to her chest like a challenge. "I was about to cook breakfast for us, but now I don't feel like doing it."

You held up your hands in mock surrender, biting back another chuckle. "Alright, alright, miss sassy pants. Come here."

Before she could protest, you reached over, tugging lightly at the loop of her belt to pull her closer.

You hadn't really thought about it—just something casual, something natural—but the way she froze made your brain catch up real fast.

Oh.

Had that been too bold?

But before you could dwell on it, you grabbed the jar from her hands, twisted the lid with ease, and plopped it back into her grasp like it was nothing.

"Piece of cake," you said smugly, flashing her a grin.

For a second, she just stared.

Then—

"Hmp. You're stronger than you look," she muttered, crossing her arms with a faux pout.

You quirked an eyebrow. Stronger than you look?

"Excuse me?" you repeated, placing a hand on your hip. "What do you mean stronger than I look?"

Haley gave you a once-over, not particularly impressed. "I mean, you’re kinda…" She gestured vaguely at you. "Scrawny-looking under all those baggy farm clothes."

You gasped. Scrawny?!

Alright. Fine. Now it was personal.

Rolling up your sleeves, you flexed dramatically, putting on your best Alex-worthy showmanship. "I’ll have you know, Miss Carter, farm work is no joke."

Haley blinked.

Her mouth parted slightly—just for a second—before she quickly turned away, crossing her arms tighter. "Y-yeah, yeah, show-off."

Huh.

Weird reaction.

She had seen Alex flex a thousand times and usually mock-gagged at the sight.

But right now?

You had a very strong suspicion she had definitely just checked you out.

Oh.

Your stomach did something.

You quickly shoved that something into a box and locked it away, because nope, not unpacking that today.

And then—

"I wonder how many other ladies have been lucky enough to see that impressive display."

You nearly choked on air.

WHAT.

You blinked at her, half-expecting her to burst out laughing or tell you she was joking, but—

No.

She was smirking.

Smirking, while still not looking directly at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt like she hadn’t just said that out loud.

Your brain short-circuited.

It took a full three seconds before you recovered enough to bark out a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Uh, how many are you?"

It was Haley’s turn to choke on her own spit.

Her face turned pink.

You grinned.

"I’m gonna hit you," she sputtered, clutching the jar like it was a weapon.

You laughed, backing up with your hands raised. "Okay, okay! I’ll help you cook, alright?"

"Fine," she muttered, recovering quickly. "But you’re going to boil the pasta. You suck at making the sauce."

"Yeah, yeah, M'lady. Let’s do it your way."

****

You weren’t entirely sure how the two of you worked so well in the kitchen, but somehow it just… clicked.

Maybe it was because Haley actually knew how to cook.

Like—really knew how to cook.

You had expected her to just throw ingredients into a pan and hope for the best (or, at worst, order you to do all the hard work), but nope.

She worked with practiced ease, moving around the kitchen like she had done this a thousand times before.

Which—maybe she had.

It wasn’t something she boasted about.

Which made it all the more surprising when you found yourself… actually impressed.

"Okay, stir gently," she instructed as you stood next to her at the stove. "You don’t want the sauce to break."

You did as told, though not without a little dramatic flair. "Like this, boss?"

"Less stupid, more stirring."

"Wow. So bossy."

"Yeah, well, someone has to keep you in check."

You grinned but didn’t argue.

Because standing here, in the warmth of 2 Willow Lane, listening to Haley boss you around while the scent of fresh pasta filled the air—

You realized something.

You didn’t mind at all.

****

Spring 20

In hindsight, challenging Shane to a drinking contest was a mistake.

You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but you also weren’t a regular at the Stardrop Saloon, knocking back beers like they were water. Unlike Shane, who, for all his problems, had a tolerance that could rival Pam’s.

Still, it had been his birthday, and after spending weeks drowning in farm work with barely enough time to breathe, a part of you thought—why not?

Bad. Idea.

The first couple of drinks had been fine. You laughed, listened to Gus grumble about Shane’s tab, even managed to hold a decent conversation with Sam before he had to carry Vincent home.

But by drink number five, the world tilted just a little.

By drink number seven, you were buzzed.

By drink number nine, Shane was on the floor, Pam was laughing at you, and Emily was calling for backup.

And now?

Now you were leaning against the bar, eyes half-lidded, vaguely aware that someone was helping Shane, but—

Oh.

Oh, she’s here.

Even through your drunken haze, you’d recognize that perfume anywhere—clean, soft, expensive.

A sleepy grin pulled at your lips.

"Hay…? Is that you…?"

She sighed, her voice half-exasperated, half-soft. "Yeah, it’s me."

Her arm looped around your waist, pulling you upright as she guided you toward the door.

Warm.

She was warm.

And soft.

And so close.

Haley smelled really good, which wasn’t surprising, but it was distracting because your brain was already a mess and now there were too many thoughts happening at once.

"You smell geurd…" you mumbled.

Haley stiffened against you, and if you were sober, you might’ve enjoyed the way her breath hitched.

"I know," she retorted, voice tight. "And you smell like beer."

Which—fair.

But you could still smell the lemon and mint under all of it, the scent of fresh air and something sweet that made your stomach flip.

She smelled better than anyone had the right to.

You let her drag you outside, vaguely aware of voices around you—Pam yelling something about kids these days, Leah offering help (which Haley firmly declined, for some reason?), and Penny’s gentle concern.

Didn’t matter.

None of them were Haley.

You barely noticed when the town’s quiet streets replaced the saloon’s warm glow, the crisp spring air biting at your flushed skin. The cobblestone path blurred under your feet, and if it weren’t for Haley, you’d probably be face-first in a bush.

"Where… we going?" you slurred, stumbling slightly.

"Home," she grunted, adjusting her hold on you. You chuckled, amused by how done she sounded. "Yoba, just how many beers did you drink? Surely, you're not that much of a lightweight."

You held up three fingers. "I had nine." You thought for a second, then added, "Shane, I think… had seven."

Haley snorted. "I’m pretty sure I’m not dumb enough to count three on your fingers."

"It’s three times three," you explained sagely.

"Yeah, sure."

"Yeah! And I'm completely sober."

You took two confident steps forward—

And immediately tripped.

Haley caught you, her arm tightening around your waist before you could faceplant into Marnie’s fence.

"Oops—" You grinned, looking up at her through hazy eyes. "Thanks, babe."

Haley froze.

Like. Froze.

Her whole body went stiff, and for a second, you thought she might actually drop you.

Her grip on you tightened instead.

You felt her heartbeat pick up, her breath hitch slightly as she stared at you, her face suddenly red.

Weird.

You liked that.

"Wow, you sure are flirty tonight," she muttered, clearing her throat. "You sure you're sober?"

You hummed, contemplating. Were you?

You stopped walking. Haley turned, confused, as you stood still under the streetlights, the dim glow casting shadows across her face.

You wanted to remember this.

Because it felt… important.

Because Haley Carter was looking at you.

Because Haley Carter was holding you.

And because, drunk or not, you had just said something honest.

"The only time I allow myself to be this close to you," you murmured, your words slurring less now, "without my heart pounding in my chest, is in the reality I’ve created in my dreams."

You lifted your head, searching her expression.

Her lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours, uncertainty flickering across her face.

The air between you felt… different. Thicker.

"So, tell me, Haley…" you breathed, voice quieter now.

Your head tilted, gaze tracing over the softness of her features, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her fingers tightened slightly around your wrist.

"Am I sober, or is this just a dream?"

And Yoba—

You really, really hoped she had the answer.

****

Spring 24

You had never run away from anything in your life.

Not when Joja tried to groom you into something you weren’t.

Not when the weight of a legacy you wanted no part in nearly crushed you.

Not when you packed up your bags, left everything behind, and started fresh in a quiet little town where no one knew your name, your past, or how much money you technically had sitting untouched in a city bank.

But Haley Carter?

You ran from her.

For four days.

And Yoba help you, but you had no idea what you were even running from.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at you that night—half-lidded blue eyes too sharp, too soft, too knowing. Maybe it was the warmth of her fingers ghosting over your wrist, your shoulder, your neck. Maybe it was the fact that you had called her babe, and for once in her life, she hadn’t snapped at you for it.

No.

It was worse than that.

It was the way she hadn’t corrected you at all.

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, wearing nothing but shame and your bedsheets, and found Haley in your kitchen, wearing your damn shirt, making breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It had nearly killed you.

And then she had turned around, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing to you, and teased you about your weak alcohol tolerance like it was all so simple.

So, yeah. You ran.

Straight into the mines, where monsters were easier to fight than whatever the hell was happening to your heart.

Away from breakfast invitations, away from Emily’s knowing glances, away from your own stupid, reckless, painfully obvious feelings.

It wasn’t like you expected her to chase after you. But you also didn’t expect her to notice your absence this much.

You had meant to skip the Flower Dance.

Even if dancing was something you could probably master in five minutes if you really tried.

Even if the festival would have been another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things you were unexpectedly good at.

That list was getting long. Too long.

At first, farming had been just another thing to conquer.

You had picked up a shovel for the first time, read a few books on agriculture, and within weeks, your farm was thriving like a well-oiled machine.

Your crops flourished, your animals followed you like a shepherd, and the once-abandoned land now looked alive in a way that felt almost... personal.

And somewhere along the way, it stopped being about proving you could do it.

Somewhere along the way, you started waking up excited to see what had grown overnight.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with it.

Not because it was something you were good at, but because it was something that felt like yours.

And Haley Carter? She was the first thing in your life that didn’t come easy.

And maybe that’s why you had been avoiding her.

Because you didn’t know what to do about something you couldn’t master in a day.

And then, of course, Alex has other plans.

Before you knew it, he grabbed you by the collar before the Flower Dance and forced you back into her orbit.

****

"Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

You nearly choked on your own breath. "What?"

Alex grinned like he was enjoying this way too much. "You got this. There's no need to worry."

"I don't—"

"You got this." He cut you off. You barely had enough time to wrap your head around what was happening before Alex was shrugging off his jacket and shoving it into your hands.

Haley’s eyes were already on you.

You could feel them. Watching. Waiting.

And you?

You were panicking. Internally, of course.

Externally? Blank face. Neutral expression. Playing it cool.

But inside? Complete. Freaking. Chaos.

Penny, bless her, tried to intervene. "Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?"

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea immediately, grinning wider when he saw the panic in your eyes. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important."

Your entire soul left your body.

Your mouth was dry. Your brain was short-circuiting. You wanted to look at Haley but—NOPE.

Because if you looked at her, you might see hope. Or worse—disappointment.

And Yoba help you, you didn’t know which was scarier.

Then she said it.

"Wait a second—can’t we get a say in this?!"

And your stomach sank.

Oh. Oh.

So she didn’t want to.

You should have expected that. You should have prepared for that.

You should have let yourself believe that was coming. But for some reason, it still stung.

For a split second, your fingers curled around the jacket in your hands, grip tightening, something raw twisting in your gut. You weren’t sure what you had been hoping for, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

The rush of disappointment came so suddenly that it nearly threw you off balance.

Of course, she didn’t want to. Why would she?

You had never felt less qualified for anything in your entire life.

The moment was so quick—so fleeting—that you barely had time to process it before Alex shut her down with a cheery, "Nope!"

"Very well, then." Mayor Lewis clapped his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

Haley was warm.

That was your first thought when you wrapped your hands around her waist.

Your second thought was, I should not be thinking about this.

But it was too late. Her perfume—light vanilla and something faintly floral—wrapped around your senses, and the heat of her skin, even through layers of silk, burned. For a second, you forgot how to move.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Her voice was quieter now, breathless.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to meet her eyes.

Haley, in white silk and soft curls, looking up at you with something you couldn’t quite name. Your heart stumbled over itself.

Her hands—small, delicate, trembling ever so slightly—rested on your shoulders.

You should say something. Anything.

But all that came out was, "Huh?"

Not your best moment.

Haley had just said something, something important—and all you could do was stand there like an idiot while your mind scrambled to catch up.

Her voice was quieter now, breathless, uncertain in a way you rarely heard.

"You were avoiding me."

Your grip on her waist tightened.

She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of her hands on your shoulders burning through the fabric of your suit.

Your first instinct was to deflect. To say something easy. Lighthearted. Something that wouldn’t make your chest feel like it was caving in under her stare.

But the way she looked at you, with something too sharp, too knowing, too close to understanding what you weren’t saying, made it impossible to lie.

You scrambled for an excuse, anything to steer away from the truth.

"You don’t want to dance with me."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, sharp and certain, like she had already decided the answer for you.

Something inside you twisted. You felt it—the briefest flicker of disappointment, sharp and bitter, before you could shove it down. It was stupid. Irrational.

But for a single, awful moment, you thought maybe she had been hoping you’d refuse. Your stomach twisted.

"I wasn’t…"

Her blue eyes narrowed. "Could’ve fooled me."

You barely had time to process the sting behind her words before the music started.

Instinct took over. Without thinking, you twirled her.

Haley gasped softly, caught off guard, her hands instinctively tightening against your shoulders to keep herself steady.

And just like that—you were dancing.

The steps came easily. Too easily.

It should have been hard to match the rhythm. It should have taken weeks of practice to master the precise footwork. Alex had only shown it to you once. Like everything else in your life—it only took once.

And Haley? She moved effortlessly, like she was made for this. Like she was made to fit against you like this.

She returned to your arms just as swiftly as she left them, her fingers curling tighter around the fabric of your coat.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, didn’t you?"

You faltered—barely, but enough for her to notice.

"I don't."

The words left your mouth too fast. Too immediate.

Haley’s lips parted slightly, startled by your complete lack of hesitation.

"You don’t?"

You hesitated now. Not because it wasn’t true—because it was.

Because saying it out loud, with her, right there, in your arms, looking at you like she was trying to solve a puzzle—felt like admitting to something much bigger.

Something you weren’t ready to name. And yet—

"I don’t want to dance with anyone but you."

There. There it was.

Your dumb, reckless mouth running away from you again.

The words had left before you could stop them, slipping through your defenses like water through cracked stone. And now—now there was no taking them back.

Haley stilled in your arms. Her grip on your shoulders had eased, but her eyes never left yours—sharp, searching, waiting. A slow inhale.

"Then why?" she pressed, voice steady but insistent. "Where were you? I haven’t seen you in days. You haven’t visited us for breakfast."

You swallowed thickly. Damn it.

Of course, she noticed. Of course, she counted.

Four days.Four days of avoiding her. Four days of working yourself into exhaustion, of diving headfirst into the mines with reckless abandon, hoping—stupidly, naively—that maybe if you buried yourself deep enough, you could outrun whatever this was. Whatever she was doing to you.

But the thing about Haley Carter?

She never let anything slide.

"Tell me."

There was something in her voice that left no room for avoidance. No escape.

And when your eyes met hers again, the music, the crowd, the festival—all of it ceased to exist.

It was just her. Just you.

And the four days of silence stretched between you, fragile as glass.

You inhaled, forcing the words out. "I was out mining."

A flicker of something—doubt? frustration?—crossed her face.

"And?"

You hesitated. Your fingers tensed against her waist.

She was close. So close.

You could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, the faintest scent of coconut and vanilla clinging to her hair.

And Yoba help you, you were so weak for it.

"And maybe I was kind of avoiding you…"

Her glare was instant.

Your stomach plummeted. Oh, shit.

Panic sets in.

You scrambled to backpedal, hands tightening around her waist like that would somehow ground you.

"I was embarrassed that I puked on you!"

A beat of silence. A single blink. And then—

"You what?"

You winced. Oh, fantastic. Perfect.

You had somehow, miraculously, spectacularly, made this even worse.

Desperate to recover, you hurriedly added, "Alex told me it was your self-care day and… I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

The irritation in her eyes softened.

Shifted into something else. Something gentler. Something far more dangerous.

"Idiot."

It should have been biting. It should have been mocking.

But instead, it came out like a sigh of relief.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world—

Her arms relaxed completely, hands slipping from your shoulders to wrap around your neck. Your breath hitched.

She let you hold her. No hesitation. No resistance. Just… trust.

The warmth of her breath tickled your collarbone as she whispered, "You haven’t ruined anything."

"Yet." You chuckled, squeezing her waist just a little—just enough to feel real.

"You know…" Haley’s voice dropped to something softer, something almost dangerous.

She leaned closer—so close that her lips nearly grazed your jaw.

"You smell good today."

You nearly stopped breathing. Her words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You could take on a horde of monsters in the mines. You could rebuild an entire town from the ground up.

But this? This had you completely, utterly defenseless.

And then, like a goddamn idiot, you whispered, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

She smiled. She actually smiled.

And Yoba help you, you were so, so doomed.

****

A/n: I only wrote this different perspective for fun and yet I found myself giggling as I wrote the scenes. From Haley’s perspective, it’s completely and utterly different. It was messy, chaotic and uncertain. It was a push and pull of some kind. And our farmer, the ever calm and collected between the two of them has been fighting a losing battle all this time. She was better with emotions but she’s quite a runner, and well… denial is her thing also haha. Also if you noticed, some dialogues were different but with the same thought. I thought it’d be a fun detail to add that since it’s from a different perspective, they have a different way of narrating the scenes. Anyway, I have to stop here because it’s getting far too long. I also maxed out the 1k block soooo . 🤷‍♀️ I also didn’t plan to do the farmer’s perspective for every chapter but I found myself writing it nonetheless. I find it quite fun and interesting that while writing, I’m starting to learn the qualities and quirks of the farmer even though she’s my own creation.

If you want, you can listen to Every Breath You Take by The Police, Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer, and Bags by Clairo while reading because this special chapter is inspired by these songs.

Anyhow, sorry for the long wait. I only have time on Saturdays to write so please forgive me. I hope you’re all doing well. Ciao!

#stardew valley #haley x farmer #haley x reader #stardew farmer #stardew haley #stardew fanfic #haley x you #stardew haley x farmer

23 notes · View notes

saintobio · 8 months ago

Text

RIDE OR DIE .ᐟ

in a world where horsepower meets heartstrings, and bookstore meet-cutes lead to motorcycle mishaps, you soon realize that opposites do attract in ways that blur the line between fiction and reality.

▞▞ PAIRINGS. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ GENRE. fluff, smut, established relationship, biker boy x book girl au, 18+

▞▞ TAGS. biker!kuna, backpack!reader, profanity, reckless driving, mentions of violence (not to reader), bruises, police, fellatio, cunnilingus, protected, explicit smut, sukuna being a cute bf

▞▞ NOTES. 8.3k word count. my biker!kuna fics are unstoppable atp 😮‍💨 and as an irl writer gf to a biker bf, this is a very self-indulgent fic. got lazy with the smut so i copied bits from my other gojo oneshot. reblogs are highly appreciated <3

▞▞ INSPOS. my fav biker boys on biketok: that10r, dylan.r.one, raven.coop, onyx_r7, senor_torque, blacchornets, aushendrivessafe, tiiidddooo, bongo & takaro 🖤🏍️💨

After dating you for six months, Sukuna realized that nothing in the world could capture your attention like your cherished collection of fictional books—except, of course, him. But before he entered the picture, you were always immersed in solitary bliss at the cafe or library, lost in the intricate worlds of your latest literary fascination to the point where it was almost impossible to pull you out of it.

Yet, it became an unspoken understanding between you both; he respected your need for uninterrupted reading time, allowing you to lose yourself in stories populated by your favorite characters, while in return, you supported his desire for a thrilling experience of riding his bike despite the inherent risks that came with it.

He vividly remembered the first time he saw you while riding his bike through the city. You were crossing the street then, carrying a bag of books you had just bought from Barnes & Noble, and the sight of you in a cute sundress had him completely distracted from the road. So in an attempt to catch your attention, he revved his bike to ‘flex’. But in his effort to impress, he missed the red light and had to brake abruptly, causing him to lose control and drop his bike to the ground.

That was the very first time he had ever dropped his precious R1 after a year of riding it. If it had been his old R7, he wouldn’t have cared as much, but his R1—his expensive, still-on-the-loan, matte black, fully customized R1—hit the pavement along with him. For bikers, these kinds of things hurt.

Now, talk about embarrassing. You even stopped to look at him in concern that day and if only you could see his blushing face behind his helmet. But at least, looking back at your meet-cute, he could tell you that he did, in fact, fall for you. Literally.

And there can’t be anything truer than that.

“Aww, she’s cute,” Choso remarked, gesturing his chin towards you with a teasing grin as they dismounted their bikes at the parking lot. You were there sitting in a cafe with a book on your lap, unaware that you were being conversed about by these two men right outside.

Sukuna jabbed him on the side and motioned for him to stop staring. “Fuck off. She’s mine.”

As Choso lifted his helmet, a group of girls outside the cafe couldn’t help but swoon over the two bikers, whispering and commenting on how hot and attractive they looked. And being the fucker that he was, completely absorbed in the attention from the girls, Choso had momentarily forgotten about Sukuna as he swaggered towards them with a confident smirk, glancing back at his friend and playfully raising his eyebrows.

“You go ahead. I’ll go check out the scenery,” Choso said in his usual mischief, “Unless you want to join me?”

Sukuna, still sporting his helmet, smugly showed him a picture of you as his phone’s home screen. “Sorry, already got my hands full with my princess.”

“Whatever. Tell Y/N I said hi,” Choso replied with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to the admiring group of girls.

You sat in your customary corner of the cafe, near the window, with a barely touched cup of coffee before you. Your attention was still and all riveted to the pages of your current book, remaining oblivious to the world around you as it looked like you were just getting to the good part of the storyline. Sukuna decided it would be a charming surprise to approach you as he entered the cafe, his arrival catching the eye of another group of girls who noticed him immediately, but he ignored their glances when he made his way towards your small area.

In his usual black leather jacket, Sukuna pulled a chair backward and straddled it, casually resting his arms on the backrest. With both legs on either side, he settled in, observing you intently behind his black helmet. A faint smirk played on his lips as he quietly watched you absorbed in your reading, and for now, he said nothing and enjoyed the moment silently.

He gave it a minute or so for you to realize.

5… 4… 3… 2… “L-Lovey?” By the time you finally noticed his presence, you saw your widened eyes at his reflective visor when you looked up at him.

“Hey, baby girl.” Sukuna pushed the button to lift his visor, revealing his narrow eyes that were locked onto yours. He had that boyish grin sitting handsomely on his lips.

As for you, you looked like you were blushing. That, or perhaps there was some sort of fluttering happening inside your heart at the unexpected sight of him. It was probably taking you a moment to separate fiction from reality, because not long ago, you were too fixated on the fictional boy written on the pages of your book. Now, your very real and actual boyfriend was here. For you. “Um… How long have you been there?”

“Not that long,” he assured in his usual low, velvet voice. “I just arrived, actually. Didn’t wanna disturb my baby.”

Your curious eyes fell on the red tribal decals on his black Nexx SX100r helmet, reminding you of the same face tattoo designs he had mentioned wanting to get, but you were refusing to let him have. “New helmet?”

Sukuna nodded, smirking as he tapped the headgear with his gloved hand. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, smiling. “It’s very you.”

“Thanks, baby.”

You glanced at his sleek black Yamaha R1 outside the window and immediately closed your chosen book for the day. “Okay, well…” You met his gaze again. “I have backpack duties today, don’t I?”

He was quick to dismiss it. “No, no. You can finish reading. I don’t mind just sittin’ here and watching you for a while.”

But, being the stubborn girl you were, you were already packing your book into your bag. You didn’t even listen to a word he said. “Did you bring my helmet?”

“‘Course, princess. Your helmet’s right there strapped onto the backseat.” Your boyfriend leaned in closer and pointed to his sportbike. Just as he took your bag from you, his eyes lingered on your lips for a moment. “So, you’re gonna be my pretty little backpack today?”

You mustn’t have realized it, but the two of you had become the subject of envious stares in the cafe. Most of the girls who looked your way were clearly jealous. Yet your cute, clueless self didn’t even seem to notice as you clung to his arm. “Yes, lovey. I miss being your backpack.”

Did you know? Sukuna always melted from your enthusiasm. And he couldn’t even resist pinching your cheeks. “Alright, then.” His hand moved to squeeze your nose. “I'll be your personal chauffeur, and you’ll be my cute little backpack who’s clinging tightly to me the whole time. Sounds good?”

“Yessir,” you answered with a playful salute.

“Good girl.” He then took your hand in his, leading you out of the cafe and onto the parking lot when he all of a sudden felt a tug on his arm.

You had a visible pout displayed. “Lovey, wait!”

“What is it, baby?” The question came out of him softly, tilting his head when he looked at you.

“My kiss,” you said sweetly, making Sukuna feel like Cupid shot an arrow to his heart. “You forgot.”

How can one person be so unbelievably adorable? Just how? How on Earth did he land the cutest girl on the planet? The cuteness aggression was certainly urging him to fall on his knees right now. With the weakness he tried to restrain inside, he was trying his hardest to laugh it off on the outside. “Oh damn, you’re right.” He pulled his helmet up, leaning in forward to place a warm, tender kiss on your soft lips. He could hear the hearts of the surrounding girls breaking at the sight. “Can’t believe I forgot to give my baby the most important item of the day.”

Satisfied with the kiss, you followed your tattooed boyfriend like a shadow to meet his bike, ‘Fury’, as he affectionately named it. The sportbike rocked a midnight black wrap and the cool customizations he added made it a standout even more. Of course, what kind of person would think Sukuna would stick with a boring base design? One of the best things about his R1 was its front light, infamous in the bike community, as it resembled a menacing face that added to its aggressive allure. It was also equipped with a powerful 998cc inline-four engine, leaving no questions why ‘Fury’ roared with a throaty exhaust note that echoed through the streets. Sukuna chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hoped you wouldn’t mind, but this big bad boy would have been the love of his life if you hadn’t come along.

“Love, I was thinking,” you interrupted his trance as he slipped the smaller helmet over your head, deftly securing the straps under your chin, “Do you think we can swing by the bookstore on the way?”

His lips curved into a smile. “Sure, we can. You wanna pick up more books to read?”

“I do,” you confirmed, yet hesitated at the end of your tone. “Well, there’s this book I wanna read, but… it has eighteen plus stuff.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, his visor still up as he effortlessly lifted you onto the back of his bike with one arm. “Oh, so it’s a spicy book, huh?” he teased, recalling the discussions he had seen on ‘biketok’ where he went by the username r1.skn. His TikTok account was an unexpected blend of motorcycle enthusiasts and book lovers, and that unique intersection of interests amused him endlessly. “Think my followers would love to know what my backpack’s gonna read next.”

Even with your helmet on, he could sense the shy smile behind it. “No, please don’t film our ride today!”

“Hmm… What kind of spicy book are we talking about, baby?” he asked, settling onto his bike and revving the engine. When your arms were securely wrapped around his torso, he took that as a go signal to hold the throttle and smoothly shift from first to second gear. “Is it very naughty?”

You hugged him tightly from behind. “Um, it’s about this biker guy and a bookish girl,” you introduced the plot coyly, “And yes, it has some steamy scenes.”

He glanced at you through the bike’s mirror, ensuring that you were safe and secured behind him. Sukuna then shifted into third gear as you entered an empty road, gradually picking up speed. The roar of his bike was louder than his voice. “Really? I bet the biker guy is a dominant one.”

“Yeah.” Your grip tightened on his compression shirt, almost as if you were trying to feel his abs through the fabric. “He’s got tattoos, too.”

What a tease. “You better picture me as that biker guy when you read that book, princess,” he playfully warned, “You’re mine, both in real life and in your fantasies.”

“Yes, but my lovey is hotter.”

“Good response, baby. You have taste.”

As you reached the stoplight in the city intersection, Sukuna slowed down and adjusted the small camera mounted on his bike to make sure it still had the perfect angle of you two. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he now had evidence of how touchy his cute, little backpack could get. You sensed him filming your interaction, but instead of pulling your hand away, you leaned further against his back and playfully touched his toned chest. He was surprised and amused at the action, gently pulling your hand down when your silly hands squeezed his chest, but you remained undeterred by placing them near his crotch the next. Your boyfriend hoped to God that none of the surrounding cars were recording you two for your affectionate display in the middle of the traffic.

“Brat,” he teased back with a shake of his head. “A brat who always gets what she wants, especially in bed.”

Your whine followed, along with a light slap on his arm. “Hey!”

Why was this red light taking too long? He was getting all bricked up the more he could feel your tits pressing against his back. Although, he considered it a blessing and curse, because the only distraction that was served to you two was when another bike pulled up ahead of cars lined up behind you. It was a white Kawasaki ZX-10R. And its owner? A jerk who had a clear death wish.

“Hey there, sexy,” catcalled the rider of the 10R, stopping exactly where he could see your rear. “Cute helmet.”

Sukuna knew you well enough to know that you were offering an uncomfortable, yet polite smile underneath the helmet. But it was the tug at your boyfriend’s shirt that made him glance over the biker with a hint of warning in his eyes. “What’d you say?” His voice carried a menacing edge. While he hadn’t been in a brawl in a while, he definitely didn’t mind the idea of one now. “Back off my girl or I’ll smash your head on the ground.”

The ZX-10R rider chuckled, hands in the air like an idiot. “Alright, man. No harm meant.”

“Shut it.”

“Okay, jeez! How about a little race to settle things? See who’s got the faster ride?”

Sukuna scoffed, finding it hard to believe that a random guy, especially an obvious amateur, had the audacity to challenge him to a race. Didn’t he know? Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t nicknamed the King of the Streets for nothing. He had been riding motorcycles for twelve years now, starting with a modest 300cc and graduating to his current 1000cc superbike. His riding experience was unmatched. He also knew every biker in the area as it was his turf. Yet this ZX-10R rider had appeared out of nowhere with such laughable confidence.

Thanks to him, your boyfriend’s competitive spirit was ignited. “You’re on.”

“Cool,” the other biker replied.

Meanwhile, you tensed behind Sukuna and gripped his shirt tighter than before. “Love, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He turned his head, gently held the top of your head, and gave you a sweet ‘helmet kiss’. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reassured, “Just hold on tight for me, okay?”

As soon as the light turned green, best believe the street became a racetrack. All the cars were left behind to dust with the roar of motorcycles as both bikers increased their speed, side by side, in a fierce race. Sukuna shifted into third gear as he passed the next intersection, then into fourth gear when the ZX-10R caught up to him. He could feel your hold around him tightening more than ever as the rush of the wind blew through your helmet’s visor.

He thought you might hate it, but you were surprisingly loving the thrill of the scene.

“Go, baby!” you cheered, holding onto him for dear life. Cute.

“Not bad, man!” the other biker shouted over the wind, pulling ahead slightly at Sukuna’s moment of distraction. “But try harder!”

Tch. Sukuna gritted his teeth and focused all his senses on the road ahead. He weaved through traffic, maneuvering his bike skillfully and taking advantage of every opportunity to gain ground. In no time, he caught up with the ZX-10R rider, and they soon raced neck and neck. They exchanged glances as they sped between cars, with the other vehicles blurring around them in motion. The thrill of the competition fueled their adrenaline, while you, as the passenger, felt your heart pounding with excitement.

Both bikes continued to zoom down the road. And it was also during that time when Sukuna locked his mind and body into analyzing the situation. Let’s see, he thought, should I push Fury to its limits?

He calculated his next move, feeling the strong breeze on his face and the vibrations of the powerful engine beneath him. The ZX-10R rider was good, but Sukuna knew he had the skills and the bike to outpace him. He just needed to time it right. Between a ZX-10R and an R1, a quick Google search would tell you that the 10R pulls faster than an R1 engine wise. While both bikes were top-tier, high performance vehicles with a 200 horsepower and a top speed exceeding 180mph, the 10R’s disadvantage is being 7 kg heavier, which instantly gave Sukuna an edge in this situation. Being the lighter bike between the two would certainly make him marginally better at handling and acceleration.

With that, your boyfriend capitalized on his bike’s strengths and shifted into sixth gear at the next intersection, surging ahead and crossing the finish line just as the ZX-10R was left stuck at the last stoplight.

Sweet, sweet victory. Sukuna sped onto the freeway, shouting triumphantly into the air. “Woohoo!” He could feel the jolt of adrenaline satiating his need for a thrilling ride.

“B-Babe.” You, on the other hand, tugged at his shirt in worry. “Babe, we’re going too fast. The cops—!”

The sound of the siren snapped Sukuna back to reality in an instant. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated by the abrupt interruption. “Can’t even have a minute to celebrate my win.”

While he could have engaged in a high-speed freeway chase if he wanted to, especially having already escaped the police once, having you with him now made him opt for better judgment. His promise to keep you safe was his foremost priority here. So, swallowing his pride with a tightened jaw, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as the police car trailed behind.

The officer swiftly exited his vehicle and approached you two. “Evening, folks,” the stern voice of the elderly officer broke the tension. “License and registration, please.”

Sukuna retrieved his wallet and handed over his license and registration, then turned to you, placing a protective hand on your thigh. He could tell his poor little backpack was feeling anxious.

The cop then glanced between you and Sukuna, his gaze lingering on you with concern. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, his focus more on your well-being than on the biker himself.

You nodded, trying to appear composed despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Yes, officer. I’m fine.”

The officer soon directed his attention to the R1. “What’s the fastest you’ve been on this thing?”

Sukuna couldn’t resist a cheeky reply. “Speed limit.”

“Very funny,” said the unamused officer, who retreated to his vehicle to run Sukuna’s information while leaving you and your boyfriend to exchange glances once more.

His expression softened. “Sorry about this, babe. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze around his waist. “I trust you.”

Interrupting the tender moment, the officer returned and handed back your boyfriend’s license. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, receiving a shrug in response. A lecture that Sukuna heavily hated soon followed. “You were speeding back there. I clocked you going 20 miles over the limit. It’s always you fellas with the 1000cc bikes who think they’re invincible. Even 600cc guys are scared of the police. You need to slow down, especially with a passenger.”

With your insistent look, Sukuna nodded to the cop, apologetically. “Understood, sir.”

The officer studied Sukuna for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Look, I get it. It’s a nice night for a ride. Just remember, it’s not just your life on the line. You’ve got someone else to think about.” He pointed at you while handing your boyfriend a ticket. “You’ve gotta take good care of her.”

Only then did Sukuna’s cold mien soften up with the cop. “I’ll be careful next time, officer.”

“Right. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. Slow down, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

The officer returned to his car, and Sukuna pocketed the ticket with a mixture of relief and frustration etched on his face. “We didn’t get to pass by your bookstore,” he lamented, giving you an affectionate caress on the back. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You touched your headgear to his, sharing a helmet kiss. “There’s always next time,” you reassured him with a smile in your voice. “Besides, this is a real-life experience that no book can ever give me.”

By the time you arrived at your apartment, darkness had already settled in, leaving a cozy glow from the distant cityscape as you switched on the lights and placed your helmet on the nearby console table. Immediately, your British shorthair cat dashed toward you with a loud meow, his pretty auburn eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing his mom.

“Hi, Casper,” you cooed at the feline, but his attention swiftly turned when Sukuna entered your apartment a few minutes later—someone he clearly wasn’t fond of.

Upon spotting Sukuna, your cat hissed, expressing his displeasure toward your boyfriend, who playfully stuck his tongue out in response. “I’m back, asshole.”

“Don’t call him that!” You chuckled, attending to Casper by mixing up his food in his bowl. “He’s probably never going to warm up to you at this rate.”

Sukuna smoothly removed his jacket and flopped down on the couch. “Boo! Casper sucks,” he hooted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “He’s just jealous because you love me more.”

It had been a while since Casper had seen Sukuna since you were the one coming over at his place more often. Still, the cat’s disdain for your boyfriend persisted, and you suspected it was because Casper could detect the scent of Sukuna’s dog, a large Doberman, whenever he was near. You can only imagine how crazy your household would be should you and your boyfriend move in together in the near future.

For now, his occasional visits sufficed. Although, there were days when his presence in your apartment stirred more thoughts in your mind than just simple cuddles and movie nights. How could you help it? He was oblivious to the thoughts running in your head as he sat lazily on your couch, his legs spread wide, lifting his compression shirt just above his sweaty chest. His toned abs were impossible to ignore, especially as he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.

“Babe, it’s so hot,” he said, fanning his face, completely unaware of the chaos inside your head. “Wanna shower before bed?”

His suggestion was innocent enough, but your immediate agreement was driven by a different kind of excitement. “Okay,” you replied with a sheepish grin, “I’ll see if you have any clothes left in the closet.”

You see, you and Sukuna had just started dating a few months ago—precisely 6 months and 3 weeks to be exact, so the relationship was definitely still fresh and vulnerable. But needless to say, while he was indeed a sweet and dreamy boyfriend that you could only ever read about in your stash of fictional books, there was also a side of him that awakened the more mature side of you.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Sukuna was more experienced in the intimacy department than you. And him being your first did bring in thoughts of inadequacy in terms of your performance in bed. You haven’t done it enough to call yourself a pro, but you also did it enough to say that you already knew what, how, and where to please him the most. You owe that experience to the multitude of smut scenes you had read about on Tumblr and AO3, because those exact stories provided essential insights that guided your actions on your first time.

Now, whenever the sexy beast within you was unleashed, you didn’t even hold back anymore.

The shower was already running when you stepped inside the small space, your boyfriend letting the cold water fall on his naked tattooed body in rivulets. Each drop of water sounded like rainfall, and with him pulling you closer by the arm, he began kissing you with a passion that made it feel like you were caught in a rainstorm.

“Lovey!” You giggled, pushing your palms flat against his chest. “You said we’ll just shower.”

“You know what I meant by that, baby.”

The water continued to cascade down your skin, your hair now damp and your body now wet. Sukuna’s eyes darkened in lust as eyed you up and down, his hands tracing the curves of your body, before crashing his lips back onto yours once more. This time, his kisses were more aggressive as he bit your lower lip, and took the opportunity of shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He was devouring you with rough and wide movements, allowing your tongue to roll around his in a playful tangle. And with his fingers now grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other hand sliding down your chest to squeeze your breast, you felt a stretch on your scalp when he pulled you by the hair to look up at him. “You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” he teased, kneading your right breast before his hand moved south to palm your dripping cunt, “Deep down, you’re just as naughty and wicked as me.”

“N-No.” Your breath hitched when his lips traced light kisses around your neck. But it wasn’t just his kisses and touch that made your knees weak, it was the feeling of his hardened member pressed against your stomach, fully erect and ready to be inside you. “Mmh… You’re the naughty one.”

Sukuna went in for another open-mouthed kiss before he nibbled on your earlobe. “I don’t deny that, princess,” he pivoted your body around, and made you lean against the glass wall so he could get a better view of your buttocks. While you, you could see your tits pressed against the glass from your reflection in the mirror, a sight that your boyfriend went absolutely crazy for when he looked up. “Ah, fuck. That’s so hot.”

You could feel his fingers playing with your entrance from behind, and you watched him bite his lip through the mirror, his eyes dancing in lust as he wantonly stared at your body. “Ngh,” you bit back a moan, the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance making you curl your toes, “I… I-I like that.”

“I bet you do, baby.” Good lord. His voice was deep and raspy, and the sexiness of it was enough to make you wet. He even showed you evidence per se, when he pulled his digits out, spreading two fingers apart to show you the clear, slimy substance that coated it. You were already a blushing mess when he showed you your cum, and felt the heat in your cheeks worsening as you watched him, eye-to-eye, suck your juices from his fingers. “Aww, my baby tastes sweet.”

“It’s the pineapple juice,” you joked, allowing him to cup your jaw and place a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “Mmm—I forgot to tell you.” You pulled away to look at your boyfriend. “I’m ovulating.”

Sukuna tilted his head, squeezing your bum tenderly as he replied, “Are you suggesting I get you pregnant?”

“No, silly!” You chuckled shyly while he positioned himself behind you. “I was trying to say that I get extra horny when I’m ovulating.”

He smiled, aroused more than ever as he heard you say those words out loud. “Too bad, I was thinking of creampie-ing you.”

A gasp flew out of your lips when Sukuna’s long, slender fingers performed circular motions on your clitoris, stretching your labia apart so he could insert two fingers at your entrance. “B-Babe!” Your widened eyes were in great contrast to his lust-filled ones as he found entertainment at your submission to pleasure. You gripped his wrist and tiptoed when he started scissoring his fingers inside, forcing you to raise your leg so he could continue to move his hand in and out of your sopping cunt. “Ahh—ah! S-Sukuna!”

He hadn’t heard his name from you in awhile and he found that amusing. “Hm, baby? Saying something?”

You squeezed your legs together to hide the clench that you were feeling inside, looking up at his crazed brown eyes and tracing his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You couldn’t hold it anymore, you were a willing slut ready to be pounded on by this tattooed man. “Please, f-fuck me.”

He reattached his lips back onto yours and pulled away just enough to keep your foreheads connected. “Not yet, baby girl.” A sly smirk spread off his lips. “That book you were reading earlier at the cafe,” he began, pulling his fingers away to turn you around, “It was smut, wasn’t it?”

Feeling a wave of embarrassment as he brought it up, you responded with a coquettish smile. “Maybe.”

Sukuna then pushed you down on your knees, letting you kneel down in front of his hard, veiny cock. He had stroked himself a few times—his other hand lifting your chin up—before he slapped his length against your lips. “Think you can show me how they did it in that book?”

“Why…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping the long, meaty shaft before placing your tongue on top of the swollen tip. He was all crazed and aroused when you kept eye-contact and started putting his member inside your mouth.

“Damn.” Your boyfriend threw his head back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s make all your fantasies a reality, baby.”

Well, he was sweet for that. But also mischievous, too. He knew you could be just as naughty as him because he had seen the books you were reading and most of them were definitely far from innocent. Could he blame you? Sometimes, reading about it was better than experiencing it. Yet with your boyfriend’s ego, he wasn’t one to allow your fictional men to be better than him in all aspects. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually.

You let him guide your hand into stroking his shaft before you ejected spit on the pink head, using it to lubricate his aching member while you lowered yourself further to fit his firm balls inside your mouth. It gave you utmost pleasure to hear his guttural moans when you swirled your tongue around his bollocks—tasting the same flesh that carried all of his sperm, and releasing it from your mouth to give his cock the same attention. At first, you kissed his swollen tip and treated it like a lollipop, then you started sucking every inch of his length by bobbing your head at a stable rhythm. “Mmm.” You could hear curses leaving his pretty lips as he held your head in place, snapping his hips forward until you were gagging from the intense penetration on your throat.

You learned all these after a single read at your favorite 18+ book.

“That’s a good girl.” His praise rang in your ears like a sweet melody.

Even without a reflection to look at, this was the most erotogenic exchange you two had ever done as a couple. And along with that, his half lidded eyes were staring down at you, judging you and your every move.

You did your best to give him a stellar performance, did your most at pleasuring his member, and did everything that he liked whenever you were sucking his cock. And just like that, thick ropes of cum were sent straight down your throat. The musky, metallic taste didn’t stop you from swallowing all of his seed and you had to show your tongue to make him know that you did a good job at taking all of his semen. Nothing was wasted.

Not even time, because as soon as you finished giving him a blowjob, he was already carrying you out of the bathroom without drying yourselves off. You were thrown into your double bed, manhandled into spreading your legs apart before your animalistic lover plunged his face onto your pussy.

“S-Sukuna—! Mmm—fuck!”

He had your back arching because of how deep his tongue was going inside, tasting your walls and kissing your cunt like he would do with your mouth. He was smooching off your labia like a hungry beast, eating you out as if he wasn’t satisfied by the juices that he was sucking from you. You were already in your seventh heaven, unable to think straight when he added his middle finger to the movements of his tongue. If fingering your pussy and lapping your clitoris weren’t enough to drive you crazy, maybe grabbing a fistful of pinkish hair was a sign for him to stop before you could truly lose it. You could feel fire pooling on your lower abdomen and your legs were already shaking uncontrollably, your toes curling wantonly—with the suction he was doing on your cunt, you ended up screaming for his name and engulfing his mouth with your Earth-shattering release.

“Haah! ‘Kuna, p-please…”

As he detached his mouth from your entrance, he started climbing up, visibly pleased with the way he ravaged your cunt. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, pressing his lips down on yours to make you taste your own fluid. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his before he grabbed ahold of his erect member once again. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes and you were already being hauled into another position. “Let me fuck you from behind.”

“Lovey, w-wait.”

“Ass up, baby.” His patience was growing thin when he dragged your body by raising your hips close to his crotch and pressing your head down against the mattress. Your boyfriend cared none for the embarrassment that settled on your heated cheeks when he spread your buttocks apart so he could ogle at the exact hole that he was about to enter.

“No, wait!” you begged, looking up at him with a plea, “Condom, please.”

The realization hit his face. “I think I’m all out, baby. Let me check,” he said, pulling away and stumbling towards his discarded pants on the floor, hoping desperately that he would find an unused packet of condom. Just to his luck, he had one more packet hidden between the folds of his leather wallet. “Got it!”

He hastily ripped the packet with his teeth, taking the rubber out, and rolling it slowly to cover his entire length. You remained on all fours, watching him as he ejected spit on his fingers, which he soon used to lubricate your entrance.

Did he give you any time to adjust? That word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary when he sunk all seven inches inside of your cunt, wrecking you open to the point where you could feel a stinging sensation on your entrance after being stretched by his fully erect cock. “Best pussy in the entire world.”

You were suppressing your moans from coming out too loud while you bit on a pillow, nails digging on the sheets as your lover penetrated your tight vaginal walls. “Ahh! M-More… More.” He was treating you like a fleshlight as he continued to rut your sopping cunt with his fat cock, absolutely enjoying how your warm pussy was milking his full length.

“Can your fictional boys fuck you like this, baby?” he breathed, all deep and velvety as he gave you the most rhythmical skin-slapping thrusts. He was so deep in your cavern that you could feel the base of his cock slamming against your ass. You didn’t even notice the hand that was snaking on your front to massage your bouncing tit because you were far too lost in the shockwaves of sexual gratification. “No other man can fuck you this good.”

It was like he was riding his own bike. With how fast his pace was increasing, you were already too limp to feel his hard thrusts.

Your brain was short-circuiting from the amount of sensation that was entering your body, intoxicated by the waves of libido in your system that was heightening more and more as he continued to satisfy your insatiable heat. You could barely think straight. You lost your sanity. All the modest parts of you had completely dissolved into a bitch in heat. Like a needy little whore. You didn’t even have any control of your own words when you started telling Sukuna, “I… want… you to keep… fucking me… like this.” Another forceful slam elicited a mewl out of you. “A-Aah! Haah!”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Your boyfriend held a tighter grip on your hips, your moaning face leaving an imprint on his mind as he propelled your body forward and raced towards his ecstasy. After yet another thrust or two, or three, or four… Spurts of warm seed started exploding into the rubber. Sukuna’s thrust had become unsteady, his body falling down on the bed but his member still remaining inside of you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy, baby.”

You were catching your breath after he broke your mind into becoming this sex-obsessed freak. “Lookie! My bed’s all wet now.”

He smiled and finally pulled out, only to lean down again and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me carry you to the couch,” he offered, but first he had to pull the condom out of his cock to reveal a cum-filled rubber. “Christ. I came a lot.”

In other words, his cum would have been dripping out of your pussy for days.

You extended your arms, awaiting to be lifted like a princess by your lover. “Carry me now, please!”

“I will, baby.” Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his tattooed arms. He, too, was heavy breathing, but he still effortlessly held you. “I’ll take care of cleaning your sheets while you sleep.”

He was already walking towards the living room as you kicked your feet in the air, giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. “Can you clean out Casper’s litter box, too?”

Sukuna made a face of disgust, glancing at the cat before gently setting you down on the couch. “Only if he stops being an asshole,” he joked, but your pleading expression melted his resolve. “Alright, fine. I’ll take care of your bed, your cat’s litter... what else? You’re lucky I love you, you know.” He moved to the window, drawing the curtains closed to shield you from prying eyes. “Do you think your neighbors saw us fuck earlier? I forgot to pull the curtains on your bedroom.”

You laughed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. “Well, there’s this couple that’s been giving me strange looks lately, so it definitely isn’t the first time they’ve seen us do it.”

“It’s like that movie we watched,” Sukuna mused, trying to recall the title.

“The Voyeurs!” you both exclaimed in unison, sharing a laugh before you gestured to him. “Get dressed, lovey!”

Sukuna returned to tuck you in under the thin sheets, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips. “And you get some rest now, baby.”

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you woke up, stretching lazily in bed to find Casper purring next to you. That’s strange, you thought. Your cat normally wouldn’t go near you when your boyfriend was around, so you turned to your side, expecting to find Sukuna still sleeping beside you, but the spot was empty. Confused, you glanced around the room, noticing that his motorcycle gear was also missing from its usual place.

“Lovey?” you called out through the empty apartment. “Where are you?”

With no response received, you walked towards your bedroom and found the sheets had been changed and everything was tidy. Searching the bathroom yielded no clues to Sukuna’s whereabouts either. And a quick trip downstairs to check his usual parking spot confirmed your suspicion—he had left without a word.

You frowned, reaching for your phone to send him an annoyed text.

YOU: love, where are you?

YOU: i’m not some kind of booty call that you can just leave the next morning without a say

The minutes ticked by as you waited for a reply, feeling a mix of frustration and worry because of his absence. Were you overthinking this? Perhaps he was just out to get you lunch. Or maybe he had an emergency. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing deeply and thinking of any possible explanation other than the worst-case scenario. Maybe his phone died, or he got caught up in something urgent. But after an hour of no response, worry began to gnaw at you. Did he just ghost me?

“Oh, God.” You paced back and forth in your apartment, checking your phone repeatedly for any sign of a message or call from Sukuna. “Oh, God. Oh, God! I’ve read about this a lot. Why are guys such jerks?”

You tried to rationalize his absence, hoping for a reasonable explanation, but your mind persisted racing through various scenarios, with each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe he’d gotten tired of you, or perhaps he was scared of commitment. The frustration and confusion were almost unbearable. Was the sex last night not good enough for him?

That situation lasted the entire afternoon. And you wanted to rip your hair out at the fact that your boyfriend had been gone for hours, his phone unreachable, and his friends having no idea where he was.

So as the evening approached and your anxiety grew, you decided to call Sukuna again. It was the 47th missed call. But just as you were about to dial his number once more, you heard the familiar roar of his R1.

“What the hell.” You rushed to the window and saw your boyfriend pulling into the parking area. Relief flooded your system as you watched him switch off the engine, dismount his bike, and walk leisurely towards your apartment building’s lobby like he didn’t just leave an anxious girlfriend without a note the morning after he fucked her brains out.

You waited for him to arrive at your doorstep, your heart calmer but still ticking with anxiety as the clock rang in your ears. You were ready to give him a lashing for being unresponsive to your texts and calls. But as the door swung open, your boyfriend knowing your passcode by heart, you didn’t expect that your anger at him would end up being for a totally different reason.

Because there he was, standing by your door looking slightly disheveled but with a sheepish smile on his face. He held a Barnes & Noble bag in one hand.

“Hey, baby—”

“What the heck happened?” You rushed to him, noticing the scrapes and bruises on his face. “Are you okay? I was worried sick!”

Sukuna removed his helmet and winced slightly, the corner of his lower lip was smeared with dried blood. “Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, going in for a comforting hug, “I wanted to surprise you, but things got a little complicated.”

You pulled away to touch his bruised cheek. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you answering my texts?”

“Phone’s dead,” he answered, showing you his lifeless phone before handing over the bag. “And this is for you, my beautiful princess.”

Taking the bag, you said, “You didn’t have to do this.” Then your eyes scanned his face for any sign of serious injury.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, his voice filled with affection despite his exhaustion. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

You eyed the Barnes & Noble bag, realizing that the book inside was the exact one you had mentioned wanting yesterday. Your emotions swirled in a mix of frustration and tenderness. Should you lecture him for being so reckless, or cry because of how romantic it was that he went out of his way to get the book you had been searching for?

But first and foremost, how and where did he get all those bruises?

Before you could ask, he already had an answer prepared. “Long story, baby. Let's just say I had a little run-in with another biker who had the same idea as me.”

You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch while you hurriedly fetched your first aid kit. As you tended to the scrapes on Sukuna’s face, Casper the cat approached cautiously, sniffing his scent before surprising both of you by leaning against your boyfriend’s leg.

“Meow~”

“Casper!” Sukuna exclaimed joyfully, picking up the cat with a playful flourish like how Rafiki carried Simba in The Lion King “Babe, he finally likes me!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and joined Sukuna on the couch, gently tilting his chin to examine his bruise. “Tell me exactly what happened,” you asked with a hint of sternness, “You went all over town just for this book?”

Your boyfriend carefully set Casper back down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s the last one they had. Had to fight for it, though.” He then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t even get a kiss or a thank you?”

At once, all your defenses crumbled. You let go of the gauze in your hand and pulled your boyfriend into a tender kiss, wrapping him in a warm hug afterward. “You’re insane, you know that? I was so worried about you, and now I find out you spent the whole day looking for this book.” You sighed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions the day had brought. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for the man who had gone to such lengths to make you happy. “But thank you, lovey. That’s really sweet of you.”

Sukuna, now grinning broadly, held you closer around the waist. “Always welcome, my baby.”

“Now, tell me about that biker,” you began, taking a q-tip and some ointment, “How’d you get into a fight?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he recalled, amused at the thought, “He was going to get the book for his girl, too. But I got there first, and he wouldn’t let me have it.”

Jesus. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh at the absurdity of two bikers squabbling over a book in a bookstore. “You should’ve just let him have it.”

“But baby!” he protested like a child, “I couldn’t come home empty-handed. I already feel bad we didn’t get to pass by the bookstore yesterday.”

What a stubborn boyfriend you have. “I already told you it’s okay, lovey. You’re the best boyfriend already. I appreciate the effort and I’m even more in love with you now than ever,” you reassured, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now, is there anything I can give you in return? As a thank you?”

Oh, boy. You already assumed he would request for something concerning activities in bed. But his face suddenly lit up as if a lightbulb just appeared above his head. His idea was surely not what you had in mind.

“How about I teach you how to ride my bike?”

The sun hung low on the horizon as Sukuna stood beside his Yamaha R1, patiently explaining the basics of riding ‘Fury’ to you. He seemed to be heavily enjoying this whole thing. Meanwhile, you, donning a helmet and gloves, were fully geared up, nervousness evident as you cautiously swung your leg over the bike.

“Ah, dammit.” Your boyfriend was grinning like an idiot as he saw you sitting on his bike. “You’re gonna be one hot biker girl. I can’t! You’re mine. Don’t let them see you like this, babe!”

“Stop exaggerating!” you retorted, your voice tense with nerves as you gripped the handlebars tightly. “This bike feels… big.”

“Like my cock?”

“Stop it.”

Sukuna erupted into a chuckle before proceeding to move closer to you. “Alright, babe. Remember what I showed you about the clutch and throttle control,” he encouraged, “Take it slow.”

Nodding, you started the bike and felt the powerful engine rumble beneath you. With your boyfriend’s guidance, you eased out the clutch and gave a tentative twist of the throttle. The bike lurched forward, causing you to panic and squeeze the brakes hard.

“Oh, my God!” You let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die.”

“Easy there.” He held your waist protectively. “Let’s try one more time?”

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intimidating power of the machine beneath you and instead focus on Sukuna’s instructions. Even with his guidance, you found yourself repeating the same mistake where this time, you braked too hard again, causing your body to jolt forward dangerously. You would have fallen from the bike if not for your boyfriend catching you right on time.

“I can’t do this…” You shook your head, frantically. “I’m not cut out for this.”

Sukuna held you steady, his hands firm yet reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, looking into your eyes. “It takes time, alright? You’re doing fine. Maybe we should start with something smaller.”

You let out a heavy exhale as Sukuna carried you off his bike. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Like a lower cc bike?” he suggested, giving your helmet a playful tap. “Let’s start you off on a 150cc bike. Yuuji has a CBR150R we can borrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to wreck your nephew’s bike,” you teased, watching from the side as Sukuna effortlessly mounted his own bike.

He revved the engine and reached out for your hand, helping you settle in behind him. “Then, you can just stay being my backpack princess for now”

With your arms securely around his waist, the bike accelerated, the wind whipping against your helmet visor. The view of the sunset was perfect for this ride. “So, does that mean I’m not your ride or die anymore?”

Sukuna took your hand from behind, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Nah. You’ll always be my ride or die, baby.”

#ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #biker sukuna #biker au #biker bf sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #biker boy x book girl #jjk smut #jjk fluff

4K notes · View notes