#( when in doubt. blame the script- )

[allpromarlo]

roger goodell when i CATCH you

[starmapz]

what you know - ch12: too sweet || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 19.2k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

With a resounding slam, the hood of a newly-serviced Nissan latches shut. Stepping over a dirty rag and a wrench, Sukuna wipes his forehead with the back of his arm and makes his way across the shop to his boss. With a flick of his thumb to point back to the little silver hatchback, he mutters an “it’s good,” before trudging back across the shop and ducking under a half-open garage door.

His breath billows out in front of him, the chill of the air frigid on his sweat-laden skin. Fumbling in his pocket, he pulls out his lighter, rubbing his thumb over the engraved last name across the metal. It’s only his father’s last name carved into the silver, yet he swears yours is written across it too, in the way that the former scrapes and scratches once littering the surface are now gone.

Blinking out of the trance he’s found himself in, he reaches back into his pocket for a cigarette, flipping the cardstock top open, only to be met with an empty box. With a sigh, he grinds the back of his wrist into his temple, attempting to keep grease and oil away from his face by using his wrist, only to look down at his wrist and see it, too, is covered in oil.

Shutting his eyes, he leans back against the smooth concrete of the building, letting his head fall back on the wall. Letting out a breath, he blinks and watches the warmth swirl into the air, not unlike smoke. He has half a mind to try to placebo himself into believing there’s nicotine running through his system, calming his rampant thoughts.

Letting the empty box hang at his side, he stares at the overcast sky. You had been so uncharacteristically cold this morning that he finds himself going over the barely-ten-minute coffee meeting as though it’s a script reading and he forgot every single one of his own lines. Swallowing hard, he contemplates what he could have said or done differently, but at the end of the day, one thing is painfully clear to him.

You have no trust in him.

He can’t be upset with you for that.

He wasn’t in a good place when you’d gotten into an argument, but a few weeks of hovering over your contact every time his chest tightened gave him a lot of time to consider things.

It took him too long to come to the conclusion that if he’d just shut his damn mouth, maybe you would have come to him first for this job. He wonders how many people you contacted before coming to him for something that’s right up his alley. Something that he might even like.

He watches his breath billow above him again with another long exhale.

He’d tried to blame it on the alcohol, on the weed, on his stress, on the hurt you’d caused that had caught him off-guard and pierced him when you’d accused him of being inebriated in front of the kids. He’d looked to blame anything or anyone but himself. No matter how many times he tried to find blame in something else, at the end of the tunnel, it was always him, a decision he’d consciously made.

If he’s about to let you down, then he’ll dig that grave himself. He won’t let you put him there at the cost of what’s left of his dignity.

He remembers the thought running through his head. He’d been so caught up in his own anger, pain, and hurt, that he’d actively made the decision to double-down. He’d gone too far.

It’s not like Sukuna wasn’t accustomed to looking after his brothers on his own, but he’d grown so used to having you around that he hadn’t realized just how much you did for him. It was never just about the kids, or studying, or classes. It went beyond that. You went beyond that.

You made him feel sane.

“Ryomen, the Ford’s ready.”

Crimson irises slowly slide towards his co-worker, a head of raven hair peeking out from under the half-open garage door. “Be there in a moment,” Sukuna grumbles, pushing off of the wall and tossing the empty cigarette box into the trash at the corner of the building before hunching to fit under the garage door. Setting his gaze on a red F-150, he sighs as he falls into familiar motions of servicing the truck.

The next few hours pass by in what feels like a slog of sweat and unwelcome stray thoughts, but before he knows it, he’s opening the door for Uraume back at his apartment. He’s not sure he remembers the last time he saw them, a scowl drawn across his brows as they slip into his home.

“Rume!” Yuji excitedly calls, running straight into Uraume’s outstretched arms.

“I owe you,” Sukuna sighs, running a hand through his wet hair.

Uraume takes a moment to evaluate Sukuna, a frown pulling at their lips. “You don’t,” they shake their head as they always do, pulling Yuji easily into their arms. “I’m happy to help.”

Sukuna swallows hard, nodding. “Right. Thanks.”

Satisfied with his reply, Uraume nods, taking a step towards Sukuna. Little Yuji clings to their shoulders, playing with the collar of Uraume’s shirt. “So, do you want to tell me what this is all about? All of this?” The motion they make with their chin towards- well, all of him- has Sukuna’s scowl deepening.

His gaze lowers to Yuji, before flickering towards Choso fiddling with his GameBoy on the couch. It doesn’t look like the system is even on from what he can tell. He’s listening in, Sukuna’s almost sure of it.

Choosing to leave out the details surrounding the argument he’d had with you, dropping out of school, and anything else that could concern his little brother, he runs a hand down his face. “Got an interview,” he sighs, explaining that it’s at your publishing house.

Uraume’s brow lifts, as though they’re surprised. He wonders if you mentioned the argument to them, but he doesn’t have the time to ask.

“I gotta shave,” he mutters to excuse himself, his footsteps heavy with the weight of responsibility and exhaustion as he makes his way to the washroom to clean up.

Once he’s satisfied with his gelled hair and shaved face, he tucks the black button-up dress shirt clinging to his biceps into his slacks. He doesn’t exactly have the luxury of buying a shirt that doesn’t look like it’s about to burst at the seams, so it’ll have to do. Maybe it’ll work to his advantage, as egotistical as it is to think. With one last onceover of his appearance, he flicks off the lights and makes his way back out to the kitchen.

Yuji and Choso are watching Uraume intensely as they teach the two boys how to fold paper shurikens. His eye involuntarily twitches as he envisions himself getting hit by a stray flying star when he gets home tonight. Yet another way for the boys to pester him.

“I’m headin’ out,” he grumbles, grabbing his keys and throwing his coat and boots on. Before he can slip out the door, Uraume grabs the back of his jacket, stopping him in his tracks.

Sukuna turns on his heel to face Uraume with frustration flickering in his gaze, but they interrupt before he can snarl whatever meaningless words were about to spill in his irritation. Their voice is low enough to keep out of earshot of his brothers as Uraume sternly tells Sukuna they won’t leave until he’s told them what’s going on, really. “You look like shit,” they add. “And not in the usual way.”

“Ouch,” he mumbles, but there’s truth behind their words that he can’t deny. He simply nods and pulls from their grip with a hostile tug, shutting the door behind him.

He remembers you being grateful that your office is on a bus route, and now he’s grateful for it too, given that it’s not exactly within walking distance and he’d prefer not to take a cab to work every day if he gets the job. As the bus comes into sight, he boards it, popping some change into the box at the front before taking a seat with his portfolio in hand.

He winces as the bus hits a pothole, the sudden realization of an oncoming headache spreading a grimace across his lips. With everything and nothing on his mind all at once, he supposes it only makes sense.

Taking a step off the bus into the brisk air, he follows the route on his phone down a block and a half before finding a small unmarked office building. Standing at three stories tall, the building sports a faded ivy green roof that doesn’t fit this decade, or even the last one, for that matter. The windows are all covered in a layer of mud and snow, while the walls of the building themselves are weathered from the elements quite harshly.

His eyes scan the blank sign at the entrance, before falling to a buzzer. A wavy paper with smeared ink is taped to the edge of the box with the names of eight businesses and the numbers to dial to reach them spread across it.

Dialing the number of the publishing house, Sukuna buries his hands in his pockets. There’s no noise as he waits and he finds himself nearly punching in the number again when a cheery voice picks up, inquiring how they can help.

“Here for an interview,” Sukuna states simply, his eyes sliding to the door as the lock pops. Following the signage, he makes his way up a set of stairs to the second floor, pushing his way through the corresponding door.

Within the office, everyone seems to be in somewhat of a mad dash. He’s sure there’s lots of work to be done, but it has an air to it of being amiss. He supposes that’s likely the impending loss of a client you’d mention hanging over the heads of the employees.

The publishing house isn’t particularly big, focusing primarily on local authors and young readers’ books. Despite the run-down appearance of the outside of the building, there’s a homely feel to the office itself. It’s well-lit with a bright oak floor sprawling beneath his feet into a combination of desks strewn across the floor, printers, stacks of paper and filing cabinets, and a few offices along the walls away from prying eyes. Plants line many of the desks and the far wall is covered in a mural of art from books that Sukuna can only assume the business has published. He’s pretty sure he even recognizes a character or two from books Yuji’s brought home from the school library.

Taking a step towards the reception desk, Sukuna shrugs his coat off in an effort to make a good impression with his outfit.

A woman with curly black hair looks up at him with a grin, using what could only be described as a customer service voice as she tells him to take a seat and she’ll inform Maya of his arrival. He can only assume Maya’s your boss, so he quickly shakes his head, asking for you, instead.

The receptionist eyes him curiously before rolling her chair back a few feet to poke her head into an office.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

The look on your face as you peek out at him in your usual pencil skirt and white blouse nearly kills him. Your eyes don’t light up as they once had, your face neutral for the split-second you actually meet his gaze, only to look away as though you can’t bear to keep eye contact, turning back into your office for a moment.

Swallowing feels like an effort with the way his throat tightens.

He hears a chair rolling and chatter from within the office you’d disappeared back into before the clack of your black heels across the floor makes its way to him. Getting to his feet, he’s forced to wonder what’s going through your mind as your eyes scan him, but apart from the obvious discomfort on your face as you continue to avoid eye contact, he can’t get a read on you. His heart sinks as you greet him in a tone that speaks strictly of business.

“You look nice,” Sukuna attempts to break the ice, but the twitch of your brow as you glance back at him doesn’t instill confidence.

“Thanks…” You whisper, beginning to lead the way towards the back of the office. You thread around a number of desks, greeting a few colleagues on the way before finally turning towards him in front of a door labelled Maya.

“So listen,” you begin with a sharp inhale, turning to face him and steeling yourself. “My boss values experience above everything else, which I know you don’t have in the industry, so put your focus on your portfolio, okay?”

Sukuna nods, opening his mouth to thank you, but you’ve already turned away to lead the way into the office. Fuck, if you’d just give him one goddamn moment. He follows after you, his eyes scanning the office for anything to help him with the interview itself.

Light shines onto the desk in the center of the room through the large window in the back, while books with colorful spines line the shelves pressed against the walls. An old typewriter sits on one of the higher shelves, a few plants dotted here and there for some added flair.

What really catches his attention is the photo of your boss kneeling down in front of a lake with two kids with bright smiles. They look about the same age as Yuji and Choso, and Sukuna has to tear his gaze away, blinking as he’s reminded of the life and experiences his brothers never got.

Running his tongue over his lower lip, he sets his attention on your boss. She’s older, with long, straight black hair and curtain bangs. A pair of glasses sits along the bridge of her nose, while a sleek gray suit-jacket is fitted perfectly to her form. She sits at the desk with an air of perfect control in spite of the underlying issue that Sukuna knows plagues the office.

As he approaches with a dossier filled with his portfolio and resume tucked under one arm and extends his other in greeting, he watches the judgment pass over her features. Sukuna’s come to expect it these days, the way eyes will roam his tattoos, silently coming to conclusions about him.

“This is Sukuna,” you introduce him as Maya takes his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sukuna.” She takes a seat, motioning to the chair opposite her, while you sit at his side. There’s something comforting in knowing you’re there with him, even if the feeling is fleeting as you straighten, a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes plastered to your face.

The interview is fairly standard, though Sukuna clearly doesn’t have the experience that your boss is looking for. Still, he sets the dossier on her desk in hopes that she’ll reconsider. If he’s lucky, between his portfolio and the possible loss of a client, she’ll give him a shot at the job anyway.

Maya pulls the folder towards her, flipping it open and pulling out a mix of anatomy pages, sketches of characters his brothers like, inked cleanly in fineline, and the real standouts, the fully realized characters within worlds. The first page has Alice in Wonderland characters, while the tail of the Cheshire Cat curls neatly around the image as though it belongs on a book cover. The second has the Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar in a more crafty style crawling up a tree. He’d pulled the drawings together late last night in an effort to impress her.

Your boss’ brows raise, clearly more impressed by Sukuna’s actual work than either his standard interview answers, or his underwhelming resume. Her reaction, although minute, makes the extra few hours he’d spent awake working on those spreads worth it.

“These are great,” she compliments, leafing back through the pages until her finger catches on a page, separating two pages that had stuck together. Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly as he realizes the Sonic drawing that Yuji had colored with the half-finished Shadow had somehow made its way into his portfolio.

“That’s, uh, not meant to be in there,” he gruffs, his brow furrowing.

But it’s caught your boss’ attention in a way the rest of the art doesn’t. The scrappy way that Sonic is colored in comparison to the rest of his sketches that use primarily charcoal and graphite, tells of only one thing- a kid. Her whole demeanor shifts as she evaluates the way the cheap marker bleeds through the paper.

“Do you have kids?” She asks genuinely, backtracking quickly as she realizes that’s not exactly the kind of question you ask during an interview. “Sorry, don’t feel obligated to answer that.”

Sukuna sucks in a breath. “No, but I look after my brothers.”

Something softens in her eyes, as though memories of her own children- the ones in the photo Sukuna spotted- are running through her mind.

“May I ask how old they are?”

“Five and twelve.”

Sukuna wonders if you know that none of his employers knew about the kids until he had to get the letters from them for the case. He wonders if you know that by divulging his part of his life to your boss, to someone who doesn’t know him, he’s trying to show you that he’s changed. He’s trying to put in more effort, trying to give more of himself to you.

Maya simply smiles, a warmth held within her features that Sukuna’s not generally regarded with. “Do you have any experience working digitally?”

No. “Yes.”

Maya nods. “Did she fill you in on the deadline for the first seven projects?” She queries, shooting you a quick glance.

“She did.”

“Do you think it’s a possibility to have them done by tomorrow?”

Sukuna’s gaze slides over to you briefly, admiring the way the sun seems to make your skin glow. Swiping his tongue briefly over his lower lip, he nods. He’ll have to work through the night, but it’s not like he hasn’t done that before. 

In his periphery, your shoulders sag in relief, grateful that all of your hard work won’t be for nothing. He knows he’s lost your trust, but even so, seeing your relief makes this all worth it.

Maya excuses you to discuss details of the arrangement with Sukuna, so you slip away with a nod. Shutting the door behind you, you let out a breath, making your way back to your office. Well, if it can even be called that.

The room is decorated to the nines with Yuki’s favorite books and photos of her and her partner at pretty much every huge travel destination you can imagine. It’s hard to believe she’s not even that much older than you, yet she’s got so many more life experiences. At least, ones worth hanging photos of.

A table that acts as your desk is pushed up to the front of hers, with an extension cable running up onto the table to plug in your monitor and the laptop the company had provided you. It’s nothing fancy, but you prefer it to being at one of the open desks littering the center of the office space. It gives you a semblance of privacy and some silence to work in, apart from Yuki’s occasional humming.

The blonde’s head raises as she spots you, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. “Puh-lease tell me it went well.”

“I think so,” you sigh, plopping down in your chair and letting it roll back a bit as you stare at the ceiling.

“Thank god, I swear Ayana just didn’t work on our books on purpose,” she groans dramatically, following suit as she pushes away from her desk, her chair rolling back until it hits the wall. “So who is he, anyway? Doesn’t seem like you know him well,” she comments, pointing the tip of a pen in your direction.

Momentarily forgetting about your makeup, you shake your head before pausing, staring down at your fingers that now glimmer with the makeup you’ve smudged. Doing your best to salvage it without being able to see your appearance, you wipe your pointer delicately around your eyes with a long sigh. “He used to be a friend,” you explain, deciding to leave it at that. It’s easier than over-analyzing the way he looked at you as you led him to your boss’ office.

For all your time spent keeping a straight face around him, you feel like you need an entire month-long vacation just to recover. And that hardly added up to twenty minutes. You know it’s for the best, but it’s hard not to give in when your heart still aches for him, even if your mind holds onto his misgivings still.

“Oh? Ohhh?” Your colleague pushes herself towards her desk, leaning over it and clasping her hands together eagerly. “Girl, spill.”

In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned that you knew him.

“It’s not a big deal, we just had some disagreements and grew apart,” you shrug, feigning an air of nonchalance that clearly disappoints Yuki, but at least she believes you. You’re not sure you can bear the thought of picking at your wounds that had only just begun to scab over and heal. Especially not with Sukuna only a couple of offices away.

It’s not a case of being civil, you’re more than capable of being mature, and you’re sure Sukuna is, as well. That doesn’t mean you forgive him though. After all, you need to protect yourself first and foremost.

Yuki pouts, staring in disappointment at the colorful arrangement of books on one of her many shelves. “I was hoping your story would be at least a ten minute distraction from work,” she grumbles.

Shaking your head with a smile, you chuckle at your colleague. “Come on, your projects aren’t even that bad.”

In a fit to prove you wrong, Yuki is quick to pick up a stack of paper, wiggling it in the air. “Do you want this pile of knock-off Baby Shark books?”

Your eyes scan the name when she quits waving the paper around. Little Whale. Huh. With a shake of your head, you point to your own pile. “I’m good,” you chuckle, about to comment on some of the strange publications sitting in your own to-do list when someone clears their throat at the door to your office.

A painfully familiar ex-friend is leaning against the doorframe to your office, an iPad and laptop in one hand, with a pile of paperwork in the other. You assume that’s a good sign.

Good for your work, anyway.

And, if you’re being honest with yourself, there’s a part of you that hopes he enjoys the job, given that he’ll have the opportunity to do something he may actually enjoy for a living. No matter how much pain the thought of all your arguments brings you, you don’t think there’s a world where you don’t care for him, so you force a tight-lipped smile as you face him.

“Looks like it went well. Congratulations, Sukuna.”

His brow twitches, but he nods. “Appreciate you thinkin’ of me.”

You can only nod. “Um, yeah… Let me know if you need a hand with anything.”

Sukuna opens his mouth to say something before deciding against it and nodding. He pokes his tongue into the side of his mouth, pushing off the doorframe. “Have a good day, prin-” He catches himself, feigning a cough to cover up his slip. If it can even be considered that. He repeats himself, this time finishing his sentence with your name.

“Yeah, you too, Sukuna,” you wave him off quietly, turning back to your desk and burying your face in your hands.

Yuki fiddles with her pen, simply staring as she waits for the sound of the front door closing. “Soooooo… Are you that awkward with every person you just grow apart from?” She pushes, nosy as ever.

“It wasn’t that awkward,” you grumble, rolling your shoulders as you sit up and attempt to ward away the fact that Yuki is painfully right, and it’s probably for the best that things stay that way.

“Girl, everything about that was painful.”

With a sigh, you let your head hang.

You’re in for an interesting ride at work from here on out.

–

Sukuna shoves his front door open with his foot, his hands otherwise full. Shutting the door with his shoulder, he kicks his shoes off and dumps the laptop and iPad onto the table, alongside the printed client instructions for the covers and the paperwork he would need to formally fill out- all before going in tomorrow. His eyes slide across the apartment to Uraume scowling in concentration at the TV as they lose brutally to Sukuna’s brothers in MarioKart.

“Kuna!” Yuji cheers excitedly, shooting him a glance despite the fact that he’s effortlessly destroying Uraume.

“Winning, Yu?” Sukuna asks in a mild tone, though Choso isn’t too far behind Yuji. Even so, Choso doesn’t seem all that interested in playing. But lately, when does anything interest him?

Still, he’s also still beating Uraume, who can’t even spare a single word towards Sukuna, lest they get beaten by more computer players.

Which is saying something, given that they’re in sixth place in the race.

Out of eight.

“Loser,” Sukuna snorts, completely breaking their concentration as Uraume falters going over a jump and lands themself in last place as they fall off the stage.

��You’re a menace, Sukuna,” they huff as the podium comes up on-screen, entirely devoid of Uraume’s character.

“I don’t think that was my fault,” he comments with a sly smirk, though his eyes are clouded with stress. It’s strange how hardly an hour with you has him completely and utterly exhausted, where once he used to find comfort. Now, he’s stepping on eggshells around you, trying to find an opening where you might give him a chance.

Ignoring him, Uraume gets up from the couch to take a look at the iPad and laptop on the table. “You got the position?” They ask, smiling as they face him. “Congratulations, this looks right up your alley.”

“Yeah, they were pretty desperate,” he hums, running a hand through his hair. “Got a long night ahead of me, though. Seven covers due tomorrow morning, then I gotta head to the auto shop.”

Uraume’s brows draw together in concern. “Please tell me you plan on quitting a couple of those jobs.”

“I already sent a text to the supermarket, I got one more shift. Gonna talk to the shop tomorrow about changin’ my hours.”

Uraume frowns, though. “Don’t you think that’s still a bit much?”

“Need the money,” he shrugs simply, casting a glance at his brothers.

Uraume sighs, relenting to Sukuna’s stubbornness as they follow his gaze. “Can I have a word with you?”

Sukuna hums in acknowledgment. “Cho, homework. Yu, brush your teeth and get in your pajamas.”

“But it isn’t even late!” Yuji whines, whipping around from his place on the couch like this is the ultimate betrayal.

“I’m not asking ya to go to sleep, just get ready.”

Yuji groans dramatically, throwing his head back as he trails after Choso.

“What’s up?” Sukuna asks, turning back to his friend.

“You look like shit. What’s going on?” Uraume finally has the opportunity to confront him.

Way to sugarcoat it. Sukuna lets out a long sigh, running his hand through his hair as he plops down on the couch. A few stray pink strands fall down into his eyes, his hair having grown painfully long. The couch dips as Uraume takes a seat beside him, sitting with their hands on their lap. They push their snowy hair behind their ear, patiently awaiting Sukuna’s response.

“It’s nothin’. Just having a tough time with the brats lately,” he brushes them off, eager to bury his racing thoughts in the seven novel covers he had to put together.

“And the fight?”

Sukuna huffs, pressing the ball of his palm to the bridge of his nose. “Did she tell you?”

“No,” Uraume shakes their head. “But it’s pretty obvious.”

Dragging his hand down his face, Sukuna mumbles, “great.” He leans against his fist, his elbow propped up on the arm of the couch as his gaze shifts towards his friend.

“Will I need to keep pushing, or are you planning on telling me what happened?” They ask, their tone hardening.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m fixing it.”

Uraume lets out a prolonged sigh, crossing their arms in exasperation. “I’m not leaving until you stop bottling everything up. The last thing either of us needs is a repeat of when we first met. I can’t be here to peel you out of bed every time you need it.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. “Shit’s not that bad,” he gruffs, keeping his gaze fixed on the coffee table. He reclines into the couch, continuing to lean on his bent elbow as he kicks his feet up onto the table.

“Maybe not now,” Uraume shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean it never will be again.” Shuffling closer to him, Uraume’s voice softens. “Mental health isn’t a straight line, Sukuna. You can’t expect to always be fine just because you are now.” This garners Sukuna’s attention as his gaze shifts to examine his friend, frustration glimmering in the crimson of his irises. “And for the record,” they add, shrugging. “You still look like shit. So I don’t believe you, anyway.”

He grits his teeth, irritation flashing in his eyes, but he knows better than to push Uraume away, keeping his frustrations contained as best as he can. The last thing he needs is to lose the last person who doesn’t resent him.

“Yeah, fine. Fine.” He drags his hand down his face, sinking further into the cushions and crossing his arms as he explains the fight he had with you. He remembers it all too well. Remember the words that cling to the outer edges of his mind, taking root like the prettiest of flowers that he could never bear to pluck.

Uraume listens with an increasing frown, blinking a few times as Sukuna recounts the events of the last month, still choosing to leave out the details of the lawsuit. He doesn’t need Uraume, Toji, or anyone treating the kids with pity. At least, he convinces himself that’s the reason he won’t tell anyone.

Withholding what may be their tenth sigh in simply the last few minutes, Uraume rubs at their temples. “I understand that you were hurt, Sukuna, but she didn’t deserve that.”

“Don’t tell me shit I already know,” Sukuna hisses, having slumped back so far into the couch that he’s staring at the ceiling.

“If you know that already,” Uraume continues, unphased by his frustration. “Then why didn’t you reach out to her?”

With a drawn out inhale, he rolls his eyes. “Broke her trust. That was my last chance,” he mutters, his words dripping with irritation. Between this conversation, his own actions from a month ago, and his growing frustration with his current day, he’s becoming more and more desperate for a cigarette. He should have stopped to grab a box on his way home.

“You’re dense.”

God, he really needs that cigarette. He lifts his head from the cushion, scowling at his friend. “What?”

They sigh again. “Sukuna, you know I have a great deal of respect for you. I don’t want to downplay just how far you’ve come from when we first met and just how much you do for your brothers. So with that out of the way,” their face drops as they deadpan, “you’re an idiot.”

Sukuna huffs, diverting his gaze from Uraume. He already knows he’s about to be pissed off.

“She said you weren’t being yourself, correct? That she likes the ‘you’ that she got to know?”

“Yeah, and?” Sukuna pushes, irritation now pumping through his veins as he careens towards flat-out anger.

“It isn’t my place to air out someone else’s business, but I want you to think about that, Sukuna,” Uraume speaks with an air of earnestness that Sukuna isn’t accustomed to. They may have a more formal way of speaking than Sukuna, but they tend to keep their tone fairly lighthearted and casual most of the time, especially with him.

“Think about what?” Sukuna’s brow furrows in vexation.

Uraume’s already on their feet, tossing their coat over their arm. They cast a glance at him, briefly shaking their head. “Think about what she meant when she said that.”

He shakes his head, his mind racing to catch up to the meaning behind Uraume’s words as they head for the door. “The fuck do you mean? Uraume-” Sukuna pushes to his feet, catching up and reaching over them to keep the door shut. Their brow raises as they crane their neck to look up at him. “What the fuck do you mean?” The air of desperation in the usually low and disinterested timbre of his voice is unbefitting of him, causing Uraume to raise a brow.

“You know exactly what I mean, Sukuna.” They can only watch as Sukuna straightens, searching their face for any sign of a lie. When he doesn’t find anything, he scowls at the floor in thought. “Go get your work done.” They turn back towards the door, shoving his hand aside and slipping out without another word.

With his jaw hanging slightly ajar, he feels his heart accelerating.

I’ve seen the real Sukuna, and I like him, I- I like you.

That’s what you said. There’s no way he’s misremembering that. It’s replayed in his mind too many times to be wrong.

He blinks, staring at the door. Absently reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, he shuts his eyes at the realization he hasn’t magically come up with a box in the last five minutes.

With a sharp inhale, he walks slowly to the back of the apartment, pushing his hand across the paperwork he’d set down earlier. The papers slide across the smooth wood of the table, everything within his portfolio, alongside instructions and HR paperwork for the position now spread across the table in no particular order.

His heart pounds in his ears as he picks up the page he was searching for, something his gaze had ghosted over only for a moment while he’d gone through the paperwork with Maya after you left. Towards the bottom of the page is a category with a box titled ‘referral’, alongside your signature. His tongue runs over his bottom lip as he’s left unable to do anything but stare.

You like him. He knows that. You’d been close for a while, able to bounce off of one another as though you’d known each other for an eternity. You’d stuck by his side through his worst days, calming him down and picking him up when he needed it.

You were his closest friend. Maybe even closer than he’d ever been to Uraume or even Toji back in the day. Of course you like him. Is he dense for assuming that’s all you meant? He wants to believe the answer is no, but Uraume is rarely wrong, as much as he hates to admit it.

Bringing a hand up to scratch at his chest, he tears his thoughts from their spiral as something moves in his peripherals. Yuji runs over to tug at Sukuna’s dress shirt sleeve, putting the full force of his tiny frame into pulling at Sukuna.

“Kuna, come look at our shu- um-” he pauses, though his attempt to tug Sukuna along doesn’t cease. “Our sh- our shu… our ninja stars!” He finally settles on a word.

“Shurikens,” Sukuna corrects him with his usual mild expression plastered on his face. He humors his brother, finally allowing the little boy to pull him into the kids’ room. Choso is blankly working on math problems at the desk, but before Sukuna’s given the chance to make a comment about the origami stars, Yuji lets go of his sleeve, picks up a shuriken, and whips it at his oldest brother with the full force of a five-year-old. 

Sukuna scowls as the paper hits him square in the abdomen, causing little more than a wrinkle in his shirt, but the older brother snarls regardless. “Cut that out, brat.”

Yuji’s eyes light up at the sight that’s so startlingly normal for their house, that you’d almost forget about the lawsuit, or Choso and Sukuna’s plummeting mental health. Hell, for a moment, even Sukuna briefly forgets as he gives chase to his brother, who slips between his legs back into the living room where he can run around the couch.

The little boy doesn’t anticipate Sukuna simply running over the couch to get to him, shrieking with wide eyes and thrilled giggles as his brother scoops him up off the ground, holding him like a limp sack of potatoes.

“Nice try, brat,” Sukuna huffs, his voice surrounded by amusement that thrills Yuji. The boy laughs in delight as he wriggles around in an attempt to free himself, though it’s completely fruitless against Sukuna’s bulk.

Heading back to the boys’ room, Sukuna tosses Yuji onto his mattress, watching as the boy laughs in delight. Choso doesn’t share the same amusement, but something familiar flashes through his eyes as a hint of a smile pulls at his lips.

In an attempt to capitalize on the moment, Yuji tries to hop off of his bed to make way for another ninja star, when Sukuna lifts his foot to block the kid. “Later, Yu. Your brother’s gotta focus. Can you read a book or somethin’?”

Yuji pouts, staring back at the bookshelf that separates the boys’ beds. “But I’ve read them all.”

“I gotta get some important work done, can you read Dragonology again or somethin’? I’ll get you a new book soon if you can do that for me.”

Yuji glances back at the large red spine with gold sparkling text across it at the bottom of the book shelf, weighing his options. A new book must appeal to him, as he seems to decide it’s worth it, much to Sukuna’s relief.

As the boys quiet down, Sukuna lets out a sigh, changing into a hoodie and returning to his own work. Momentarily forgetting his previous train of thought and conversation with Uraume, he packs all the paper together, tapping the stack on the table to straighten it out before he grabs the laptop and iPad, heading for his bedroom. He leaves the door open a crack for his brothers as he begins leafing through the client requests.

The first one is for a children’s horror novel with animatronics, which he can certainly work with. Sliding a paperclip off the first request, he boots up the iPad, getting himself set up for the first design. The first animatronic is a bear with a hat, which Sukuna realizes is strikingly similar to a character he’s seen from Choso watching YouTube.

Scowling, he takes a look at the second request. A group of kids solving mysteries with a cat in a big van. Huh.

Another flip of a page to the third request. A series about a girl who tames dragons. Tames, not trains. Otherwise, that would be copyrighted. Sukuna chuckles at the realization that everything seems to be a knock-off. He wonders if his brothers would like this sort of shit. Maybe someday his brothers would be able to bring home something he illustrated.

Legally Nondescript Monsterology. It’s not catchy, but he thinks he can make it work.

Regardless, Sukuna works hard putting together the covers in a timely manner, while trying to retain quality. They may be knock-offs, but he still wants to give it his all given that he just quit one of his jobs. Not to mention, you recommended him, and he can’t let you down. Not again.

It’s then that his thoughts come racing back to him suddenly. You like him. He scowls down at the screen of the iPad, staring at the first cover with a glower that isn’t meant for the mildly creepy animatronic bear peeking around a corner in a small diner.

As if on autopilot, he digs through his pockets to pull his phone out and snaps a photo of the nearly-finished cover on the iPad he’d barely figured out to send to you. His fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment, before sending the photo with the caption ‘do you think your boss will approve’.

He can’t think of a time, even over email, that he ever waited much longer than a few minutes for you to reply, though he doesn’t get that luxury this time around. Do you reserve that for friends? Or was that a side of you that only he was privy to?

Is he so dense, even now, that he’s unwilling to admit the fact that you might have had feelings for him?

Setting his phone down on the drawing table, his leg bounces relentlessly as he leans back in his chair.

Had he unknowingly led you on when he kissed you? He couldn’t have. You’d gone for chicken strips at a little diner after talking through that, you were both just horny and confused, he was sure of it.

Strip Joint. The diner you visited that night. The background of the art for the first novel is a carbon copy of it, he realizes. A complete accident, but it’s exactly what he pictured when thinking of a diner. He blinks at the drawing, so caught up in wondering how he hadn’t realized what he was doing that he nearly misses the vibration of his phone.

7:49 PM Princess || She’ll like it! Looks good.

His head falls forward against his phone with a sigh. You’re using periods at the end of your texts with him. Great.

Looking through your message history with him, he scrolls until he finds the night you stayed at his place, in his bed. Your texts were so bubbly, so full of life. Did you like him, then?

Did you have feelings for him?

Why does that knowledge make Sukuna’s arm hair stand on end?

Setting down his phone, he runs his hands through his hair in exasperation. He’s in for a long night, but the light at the end of the tunnel is the knowledge of how much he’s getting paid. Not just as a salary, but upfront for the overnight covers. Enough to cover whatever fees he was worried about with the lawyer, and whatever book Yuji decided on, as well as something for Choso. Maybe even a dinner at a restaurant.

And maybe, if he’s lucky, an ounce of your trust back.

–

The text you receive from Yuki the morning following Sukuna’s interview has you reeling in relief, thankful that Sukuna pulled through, and not only that, but your books are being pushed through the rest of the publishing process, and Sukuna is onboard full-time.

Well, that last part may not be something to be relieved over, but at least your hard work wasn’t for nothing.

Besides, there’s no way everything with Sukuna will be completely and utterly weird, right?

Your first Tuesday working with him, he was only able to make it for half of the day, so your paths only crossed a handful of times. Still, every time you came across one another seemed to have you both walking on eggshells. It’s not like you can’t both be civil and professional, sharing a wave or smile here and there and discussing business when necessary, but you can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t be coming to the intern when his iPad won’t connect to the company’s file cloud.

“Can’t you ask Felix?” You ask as Sukuna pokes his head into your office for the second time just since you arrived.

Although he remains stoic at your response, something flashes in his eyes. “He’s not at his desk.”

“He’s out this week,” Yuki comments with a yawn, giving you the bare minimum of her attention as she works on another Baby Shark knock-off book.

“Right,” you mutter under your breath, shooting Sukuna a tight-lipped smile as you get to your feet. “Let me see,” you hold your hand out expectantly, pulling up the cloud service’s settings on the iPad to see if you can find the issue.

After tapping through it a few times, you chew on your lip. “Did you try… turning it off and on again?” You’re met with silence from Sukuna, and when you tilt your head to look up at him, you find him staring at you with raised brows and a look that says that he absolutely already did that. “Sorry,” you murmur, going back to tapping at the screen somewhat aimlessly. You hum in thought as you click through the settings, tapping your manicured nails rhythmically along the back of the iPad as you hold it. “Hold on.”

Leading the way out to the admin computer, you login and search through permissions, before finding that Sukuna’s account simply hasn’t been added to the cloud function yet. He’d likely only submitted through Maya so far.

“That should fix it.” You offer the device back to him with a neutral smile.

He types in his password and nods. “Yeah, I owe-” He pauses, examining your expression with an intensity that has your hair standing on end. “Thanks.”

You nod, turning to head back to your office when Sukuna hesitantly spits out an “I’m sorry”.

Blinking, you pull your lower lip between your teeth once more, only halfway facing him as you wait for him to elaborate.

“For-” He pauses, shutting his eyes, before shaking his head. “For bothering you.”

And with that, he just walks away. You stare after him for a long moment, but the feeling of your heart slowing to a normal rate in your chest is a relief as he gets further away. The feeling that replaces the pounding in your chest is equally unpleasant though, as something akin to yearning wraps its claws around you.

You can try all you want to convince yourself that it’s just because he looks painfully attractive with a black button-up and sleeves rolled up to his elbow in the sluttiest way imaginable, or the way that it hugs his biceps so tightly that you can practically see every vein in his arm, but you’re not ignorant to your own emotions.

No, it’s not the damn shirt, or the slacks that hang low on his hips. It’s not the fact that he cleans up well when he needs to, or the way he’s got his hair pushed back with gel to keep it in place. It’s not even the way he seems to put you on a pedestal, as though no one in this office is capable of anything but you.

It’s the fact that something is clearly different now, and you’re not oblivious to the fact that he’s trying to show you that. He’s still as stoic and mild as ever, but he’s sharing more of himself. Even little things, tiny corrections, little changes in the way he talks not just to you, but to everyone, none of it is going unnoticed.

Does it really make a difference, though? Can you even forgive him after everything?

As he sits down in Ayana’s old office, now his, you shake that thought from your head. That’s not the question you need to be asking yourself. It’s whether you should forgive him.

At the end of the day, you need to make yourself your priority, and you’re not sure if that includes him.

–

The office is fairly quiet as you slip past reception after your morning lecture on Thursday. Yuki isn’t at her desk as you drop your bag alongside the table that’s pushed against her desk for you. Getting yourself set up for work for the day, you pause at the sight of a warm drink at the corner of your desk.

Smiling to yourself, you get to work, pulling the cup towards you.

“Hey, girl,” Yuki greets you, making her way around the room to her chair.

“Hey, thanks for the drink!” You beam at her.

She shakes her head. “Wasn’t me. I just got back from a meeting.”

Turning the cup towards you in search of a name, you come up blank, finally taking a sip of it.

Your exact order.

“Huh, I wonder who it was,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance as though a certain tattooed man isn’t the only thing occupying your mind, causing your heart to somersault in its cage.

“Ooh, do you have a secret admirer?” She leans in with a curious grin, tapping her acrylic nails on her desk. “I bet I could do some digging-”

“I’ll ask around at lunch,” you interrupt, taking another sip of the drink in an effort to dissuade her. The last thing you need is the queen of office gossip herself digging into your business with Sukuna. Yuki’s a sweetheart and you love her for that, but there’s nothing that she loves more than gossip, and as the intern, the last thing you need is to be at the center of it.

She groans dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you point at her stack of paperwork. “Go back to Adolescent Shark or whatever you’re editing.”

She wrinkles her nose in mock offense. “I’ll have you know it’s Baby Whale.”

The small office is filled with your collective laughter as you fall into the familiar routine of work. You hardly get much of a chance to really begin digging into work before Yuki’s dragging you along to the break room for lunch, though.

The break room is fairly gray compared to the rest of the office, the only real hints of color being the plants that line the top of the wooden cabinets that hang along the far wall. A stainless steel fridge and microwave sit at the far end of the cabinets and counter, housing most of the staff’s meals.

“What’d you bring?” She asks curiously, peering over your shoulder to the tupperware you’re putting in the microwave.

“Just stir fry,” you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “Nothing fancy.”

She hums as she takes a seat, beginning to recount how her meeting this morning went. You take a seat shortly after with your food warmed, looking up to find Sukuna across the room, a few tables away.

He’s gripping a matching paper cup to the one sitting on your desk barely an hour ago, his gaze trained on it. Faint stubble dots his chin and his hair hasn’t been styled, but otherwise you’re reminded that he still cleans up fairly nicely, a new-looking red collared shirt hanging over his frame that fits him better than the black one from Tuesday. It’s still pleated across the sides, as though he didn’t iron it, though you don’t exactly take him for the kind of guy to do that.

As if sensing you looking at him, his eyes flicker upwards, meeting yours with an expression you don’t recognize. He blinks a couple of times, examining you before tearing his gaze away as he evaluates the room full of your co-workers. Casting you one last glance, he silently returns to staring at his coffee cup.

You shut your eyes for a moment as your heart twists at the sight of a very obviously dejected Sukuna, who, as usual, has no lunch. Staring down at your stir fry that’s beginning to look less and less appealing, you find yourself prodding at a pepper. Why do you so badly want to give him your lunch? How is it that your mind is telling you over and over how bad of an idea it is to let him back in, while your heart hollows itself out for him again, reopening old wounds?

You continue to prod at your lunch while Yuki fills you in on her day, eventually leaving for a meeting, alongside everyone else until the room is silent and near-empty.

Near-empty.

Sukuna fixes you with an intense gaze, that same unreadable expression drawn across his features.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you spit out in an effort to fill the air, rife with tension.

“Anytime.”

The silence hangs heavily between you both, weighing down on the man who can’t even seem to bear to look at you. The weight of the settled quiet, once filled with so much comfort, presses down around you suffocatingly as Sukuna finally meets your gaze with a scowl. It doesn’t carry anger or irritation as it usually does, but something else. Something different.

“I’m sorry,” Sukuna gruffs, his voice raw with emotion.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, fixing him with a look of uncertainty. The distance between your tables feels so painfully real, wedged between you like a chasm, unable to cross it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he continues, his eyes flitting desperately across the table as though he’s searching for words he’d rehearsed, only to watch them scatter across the surface.

If he’s being honest with himself, that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s watching uncertainty and hurt spread across your features and everything he’s spent the weekend putting together for this moment is falling to pieces in front of him. Every rehearsed and well-thought-out phrase falling to pieces. He swallows hard in an effort to stop his throat from tightening, anything to keep his voice steady.

He grips his empty cup harder, the frail paper bending beneath his fingers as he grows frustrated with himself.

“Fuck,” he hisses, mostly to himself as he scowls down at the empty cup. His grip tightens again and the lid pops off, rolling across the table and down onto the floor, drawing your attention to it as it collides with the leg of a chair near yours, tumbling to a halt. “Had all this shit I wanted to say, and it’s all fuckin’ gone,” he grumbles, huffing in exasperation.

Taking in his words, you nod slowly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.” Your voice is mousey as you fiddle with your fork.

The tattooed man scowls deeply at you, shaking his head. “Why?”

You sigh, attempting to gather your thoughts as everything within you races. Your mind, your heart, your nerves. You’re not sure which one’s winning, but you’re damn-near desperate for your mind to slow down, if nothing else. You can live with your heart pounding in your ears and the slight tremor in your hands, but it would be nice to at least think straight.

“I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I shouldn’t have accused you of… Of being drunk and high around your brothers.”

And damn it, Sukuna’s envious that your words come across so eloquently, even as you chew on your lip and avoid his gaze.

“I don’t care,” he mutters in a barely masked huff of frustration.

Straightening your posture, you tilt your head in confusion. That isn’t exactly the reaction you were assuming you would get to an apology, at least not with the way he’s been seeking you out at every turn.

Finally catching on to your confusion, his eyes widen. “No, fuck, I don’t mean it like that.” He pushes to his feet, leaving his cup behind as he shuffles past the chairs haphazardly tucked under the tables between you, until he can find a spot across from you at your table. “I just meant- I mean- it doesn’t matter.” He scowls at the table. “What you said that night. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care anymore.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to make sense of the man who, for as long as you’ve known him, has never been good with words. “You forgive me?”

“Shit, yeah. That’s what I mean.” The burly man scratches the back of his head. “Look, it hurt n’ all, but I’m over it.”

You set your fork down in your stir fry with a sigh, absently chewing on your nail. The sleeve of your blouse falls down your arm to the elbow with the movement. “Still, I never meant-”

“You kept them.” Sukuna interrupts, stopped dead in his tracks by the sight of two woven bracelets around your wrist. His brow, raised in shock, slowly twitches into a furrow.

Humming, you follow his gaze to the bracelets tied to your wrist. “Oh,” you whisper, fiddling with the frayed end of a red piece of twine on your wrist. “Yeah, I didn’t have the heart to cut them off.”

Sukuna swears it takes the breath straight from his lungs.

Shit.

He always knew you loved his brothers, but it’s been a month now since you’ve seen them. A month of lies telling his brothers you’re busy, a month of expecting never to see you again. A month of thinking any care you once had not only for him, but also for his brothers is gone.

Now, every single one of his thoughts and expectations are muddled all because you didn’t have the heart to take off a couple of bracelets. Maybe to anyone else, it would be an act of clinging to something that isn’t there, but to Sukuna, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, if he plays his cards right, he can fix what he broke.

If only he wasn’t so shit with his words.

“Why?” He gruffs.

Why?

It’s almost as though he’s outside of his own body, watching some idiot fumble with words.

“Oh, um- I don’t know,” you mumble. “I guess it just felt too final, and your brothers are so sweet.”

Felt too final? Did you not want things to end?

“They miss you.”

Oh, great. And now the same dumbass is using his brothers to guilt-trip you.

Your lips twitch into a frown. You’re not sure what you’re meant to do with that information when he knows you still care for them now, just as well as he clearly knows that you’ve been avoiding him.

“Listen, I’m fucking sorry,” he begins, balling his hand into a fist  in his lapp as he repeats himself again. “I was drunk, and high, and hurt, and I took that out on you. It was a mistake. I never meant any of it, I was…” he leans on the table, rubbing his eyes with the balls of his palms. “I was just tryin’ to hurt you back.”

You take in his words, nodding slowly as you try to understand where he’s coming from. “Why?”

Sukuna shakes his head, not quite sure himself. He raises his hand in a loose shrug, letting it fall onto the table with a thud. “Fuck if I know. Guess I just thought that if I was gonna waste my last chance with you, then…” he trails off, realizing just how stupid he sounds. “I dunno, princess.”

Your heart slams itself at full force into your rib cage, giving you whiplash as his nickname for you hits you like a truck. In truth, there’s a part of you that had expected him to move on like nothing had happened. Sukuna may be a more vulnerable person than he lets on to most, but you were there when he fought with Toji. How many years were they friends? So, why did your four months with him make his reaction so different?

At a loss for words, all you can do is blink at him, your jaw ajar.

Clearing his throat, Sukuna lets out a frustrated huff. “Guess I just thought that if I was going down, I was bringin’ you down with me.”

Rubbing your hands down your face, you narrowly avoid smudging your makeup. “That’s… dumb, Sukuna,” you mumble, your voice muffled behind your palms.

He waves his hand through the air again in some form of a frustrated shrug, letting it fall hard against the table. “Yeah, well.” His leg bounces beneath the table as he examines the wall. “You know I’m a dick.”

You exhale through your nose in something akin to a wry laugh. It’s a start, and Sukuna will count that as something of a win.

Silence settles between you both again, and Sukuna doesn’t know how to get his point across. He doesn’t know how to fix things because that’s not what he does. He leaves a path of destruction wherever he goes and lets down everyone he knows.

“Let me make shit up to you,” he offers, wincing when you visibly hesitate.

Your heart pounds in your ears, practically begging you to give in, and you’re thankful for your mind finally catching up to feed you reasonable doubt. “I don’t know, Sukuna. If that’s how you act the moment something goes wrong, how am I supposed to trust you?”

He nods, his leg bouncing impossibly faster beneath the table as his blunt nails dig into his palm. Scratching harshly at his chest with his other hand as though it might dull the ache, he considers leaving you be, but Uraume’s words hang above his head, pinning him to his seat.

Did you really have feelings for him? Do you still?

“Gimme another chance,” he pleads, tone laced with desperation. He wipes the back of his arm across his forehead, the room feeling a good ten degrees too warm as he considers what he can do, if anything, to get you to forgive him.

Your lips press into a thin line as you stare down at your uneaten lunch. “Sukuna, I…” you trail off, inhaling a long, deep breath. “You can’t ask me for that, you know that was your last chance. It’s not fair to me.”

Sukuna leans his full weight onto the table, sick to his stomach. Bile rises in his throat and he’s forced to swallow hard in an effort to keep himself in check, but it only makes him want to throw up more.

“Shit,” is all he can mutter, harshly rubbing his eyes. Maybe he should have done this after the trial, waited until he could really get his thoughts in order. Would it change anything? He’s not sure, but he supposes there’s no real point in filling his mind with ‘what ifs’ that make him feel worse.

His stomach churns as he watches you hesitantly begin to stand.

“Just… Let me prove myself,” he begs, standing up as well.

“Sukuna…” You sigh as he unknowingly tugs at your heart strings. You care about him a great deal still, but you can’t abandon a month’s worth of rationale just because you’re clearly not over him.

“I’m not askin’ for things to go back to normal, just… stop avoiding me.” He swallows hard, coughing into his elbow as his throat dries at the mere concept of you saying no. “Please, princess. I’m beggin’ you, here.”

Glancing past him at the office that you need to get back to in order to get some work done, you find yourself sighing. “I can do that,” you agree with a forced tight-lipped smile.

Sukuna lets out a breath of relief, shutting his eyes. “You won’t regret it,” he breathes out, running a hand through his locks to push stray strands of pink from his sweat-laden forehead.

You can only shoot him a wary look as you put your fork in the sink along the wall of cabinets. Returning briefly to your seat, you push it in and contemplate something, before sliding your tupperware across to him.

“Please eat something,” you murmur, slipping past him as quickly and quietly as you can manage.

He knows he won’t be able to eat anything, but as he stares down at the stir fry you’d clearly made for yourself, he finds his heart rate accelerating further, only it’s not from stress. No matter how small, some part of you still cares about him.

–

Your first week working with Sukuna had been… a lot. A lot to handle, emotionally, and a lot to process, and your second week only left you further confused. Although there were no emotionally charged discussions about your falling-out, he seemed to be trying anything that might get him an ounce of trust.

A warm drink sat at the corner of your desk once again when you arrived on Tuesday, still warm, still your exact order. You forgot your charger? Take his. It’s not overbearing, by any means, he gives you space and respects your privacy, but he jumps at any opportunity to help. It’s startlingly kind, maybe even sweet, and you’re not quite sure what to make of that. 

It’s not as though his personality has changed, he’s still stoic and mild as ever, he’s just… listening. Paying attention.

And maybe it makes you a sucker, or naive, but it warms your heart.

Still, you remind yourself this is just one day. Things could change when he grows tired of putting in effort.

Thursday rolls around to the same series of events, although you remember your charger. The difference this time is that a pastry accompanies your drink.

Blinking once, you realize you’ve been staring at your monitor in thought for longer than you’d care to admit, letting time get away from you. With a small shake of your head in an effort to regain your focus, you manage to get in a solid hour of work and complete the short young adult novel you’re working on.

Hitting print, you push up from your desk, your heels clacking across the wooden floors as you make your way to the printer, standing in line behind one of the senior editors waiting for his work to print. He pulls up a stack of paper, moving aside as he checks the pages over. Picking up the first page in the printer, you eye the number in the corner.

“Oh, um, I think you might have my first couple of pages,” you smile kindly as you turn towards him. Dressed to the nines in a full three piece suit (a bit much, really), he raises a brow at you, flipping to the last couple of pages.

“Looks like I do,” he agrees, though his eyes rove the page rather than handing it back. His brow twitches, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips as he continues reading through your work. “I’m seeing a couple of errors here, intern. Tell you what, you go get me a coffee, and I’ll work through your mistakes.” He tilts his head, a strand of long blonde hair slipping from his loose bun.

“Thank you, Reggie, but that’s Yuki’s job, we can manage just fine,” you dismiss him, outstretching your hand expectantly.

His smirk grows, his eyes trailing the length of your body. “I think it would be valuable to learn from a more senior editor than Yuki, don’t you think?”

Keeping your composure, you shoot him a kind smile. “I’ll let Maya decide that.”

“Don’t you wanna learn from the best?” He takes a step forward to nudge you, your first two pages held firmly within the stack of paper he’s keeping in his hand opposite you in an attempt to purposefully rile you up. “C’mon, I’ll do you a favor, and you can do me one. Just go grab me a coffee,” he insists.

Putting some distance between you, you stand your ground. “That’s not my job, Reggie.”

“You’re an intern, aren’t you? ‘Course it’s your job,” he grins, bringing a hand up to scratch at the unkempt facial hair on his chin.

Heavy footsteps fall in quick succession across the floor in your direction, just as you’re about to give up on dealing with Reggie and simply reprint the first couple of pages of your document.

“Is coffee outside of your skillset?” Sukuna gruffs, his sharpened gaze set on the printer as he waits for something as well.

Reggie grins in agreement. “Ooh, can the intern not figure out the machine?” He chides, chuckling to himself.

Straightening, Sukuna turns to face him, towering over the blonde in both height and stature. “Wasn’t talkin’ to her,” he grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. This shirt may not look like it’s about to burst at the seams as he makes a display of showing off his muscles, but it still does him a lot of favors.

Reggie’s brow twitches into a scowl, his attention flickering between you and Sukuna. He scoffs, rolling his eyes as though he can’t possibly believe that someone like Sukuna would be siding with you. “Whatever, man. I can make my own coffee,” he grumbles, turning away.

“I need those pages, Reggie,” you remind him before he can get far. He pauses, fighting with himself for a moment before shoving them into your awaiting open palm and turning on his heel to walk away.

With an exasperated sigh, you turn back to the printer to grab the remaining stack of paper. “Thanks, Sukuna. He thinks he’s better than everyone just because his job title has ‘senior’ in it.”

Sukuna grunts, shooting a glare at the back of the blonde’s head as he disappears into an office. “Fuckin’ prick,” Sukuna grumbles under his breath, turning back to the printer. “Just needed to print somethin’ anyway. Not a big deal.”

As the printer doesn’t seem to have anything queued, you check the bottom of your stack, pulling out the one page that doesn’t belong and raising your brow in a challenge. “You needed to print the cloud storage login?”

Sukuna’s cheeks dust in a faint red as he jerks his hand forward to pull the paper from your grasp. “That was an accident,” he grumbles quietly, staring at the page like it’s betrayed him. “I meant to print a different tab.”

You can’t help the way your lips quirk upwards into a hint of a smile at his obvious white lie. “Right. Well, thanks anyway.”

“Mhm.”

You shoot him a thankful polite smile, stepping backwards a couple of times before turning back to your office with your paperwork clutched to your chest.

His chest rises and falls slowly as he takes in the scene, considering a polite smile another win. At least he had some sort of highlight to his week before his meeting with his lawyer tomorrow.

–

Thankful for Friday’s arrival, you, Shoko, Uraume, and a couple of classmates you’re less familiar with all decide to spend one final night relaxing before you would need to focus on studying for midterms. One last night of relaxing and self-care before the onslaught of exhaustion and cramming began.

Popping a piece of popcorn into their mouth, Uraume sighs. “I took way too many classes this semester,” they groan, seated cross-legged on the floor between you and a close friend of Shoko, Iori Utahime. From what you can tell, she’s friends with Uraume as well, and they share a handful of classes.

“How many did you take?” Iori asks, leaning back against her palm on the floor of Shoko’s place. She uses her spare hand to toss her long brown hair over her shoulder, keeping it out of her face as she takes a long drag of a blunt, passing it to Uraume.

“Six,” Uraume chuckles to themself as they take the blunt while Iori gapes in disbelief.

“I thought four was a lot,” you comment with a shake of your head.

“I just wanted to be done this year,” Uraume sighs. “Toji, Atsuya, and I wanted to graduate at the same time.”

You’re sure Sukuna was included in that group once, but Uraume’s refrained from mentioning him since the argument. Although you never spoke to them about it, you’re fairly sure they’re aware of it. They are Sukuna’s closest confidante, after all.

“How’ve you been managing?” You ask, dunking your hand into the popcorn bowl sat between the three of you. Uraume offers you the blunt, but you shake your head as you toss more popcorn into your mouth, dragging the bowl a bit closer.

Uraume pauses for a moment, in thought. “Let’s just say that if I could go back in time, I would definitely give myself a lecture for thinking this was a reasonable amount of courses,” they chuckle, shaking their head.

“At least we can study for a few of them together,” Iori offers, met with a cheery nod.

As they discuss something to do with a science course, you glance down at your phone as it vibrates, expecting a message from Kento, or maybe Satoru or Suguru.

You tilt your head at a text from Sukuna, simply saying ‘hey’. Deciding to focus on the here and now, you shut off your screen and tune back into the conversation, even if it’s a bit beyond what you ever learned in any science course.

Your phone vibrates again as you nod along to something Uraume is saying, barely a moment passing by before it’s vibrating once more.

Your brows pull together as you glance down at the preview for the texts. ‘could you do me a…’ and ‘please’ are the previews for the following two texts. There’s a strange sense of uncertainty held within the idea that Sukuna’s pleading with you over text that makes your stomach churn. Finally unlocking your phone, all three messages come into view.

9:43 PM Kuna || hey

9:44 PM Kuna || could you do me a favor

9:44 PM Kuna || please

Tilting your head at the message, you glance up at your surroundings. Shoko is sitting cross-legged a couple of feet away chatting with a couple of her classmates as she pours herself a shot of vodka while Uraume and Iori continue to pass a blunt. You’ve been hogging the popcorn for a bit and your mind is lightly buzzed from the shots you’d shared with Shoko. Surely whatever Sukuna needs can wait, given that you aren’t exactly fit for doing anyone any favors.

Not to mention, although you’d agreed not to avoid him, this feels as though it’s crossing the barrier of proving himself into territory you’re not ready for.

But then again, maybe he just needs a hand with something work-related when you have a moment.

Shaking your head to keep yourself from overthinking, you shoot back a message.

9:47 PM You || I’m busy right now, can it wait until tomorrow?

His response is immediate.

9:47 PM Kuna || ya no provlem

9:47 PM Kuna || sorry

Shrugging, you lock your phone and toss a kernel of popcorn at Shoko to get her attention. “Pour me one too?”

She grins, pouring you both shots. You clink the glasses together and tip your heads back, enjoying the familiar sensation of the burn of alcohol running down your throat. It simmers in your veins, your buzz becoming more comfortable as the world around you dulls. Shuffling closer to Uraume and Iori, you join their conversation as it shifts from physics to gossip surrounding one of Toji’s teammates. Toji had been filling Uraume in on every little detail, enthralled in the drama himself.

It can’t even be twenty minutes later when your phone is vibrating in your lap again. Mindlessly unlocking your phone without looking at the message previews or who sent it, you read the new texts.

9:59 PM Kuna || im sorry

9:59 PM Kuna || i lied

9:59 PM Kuna || it cant waut

10:00 PM Kuna || please cab u just text back when u see this

Your brow furrows again as you read through the texts that carry a strange sense of urgency. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate what to say.

“Everything alright?” Uraume queries, nudging you. Your scowl dissipates as you stare up at them questioningly, having missed their question. They tilt their chin at your phone. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” you glance down at the screen, shaking your head as you shrug. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Is it Satoru?” Iori chimes in. “I swear every time he texts me, he makes it sound like it’s the end of the world,” she groans, throwing her head back.

Chuckling, you shake your head. “He’s like that,” you agree, “but no, it’s not him.”

“It’s Sukuna,” Uraume states matter-of-factly. You wonder for a moment if they saw your screen, but the grimace they sport as they continue tells you otherwise. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah… How’d you know?”

Uraume shrugs. “You get this look when it comes to him.”

Your jaw drops. “What look?”

“Like-” Uraume tries to mirror your worried scowl, covering their lips in laughter when you shoot them an irritated look.

“I do not!”

Uraume puts their hands up in surrender. “Don’t blame me. Toji pointed it out.”

Groaning, you drag your hand down your face. “I’m gonna kill him next time I see him,” you grumble, your attention returning to the lit screen in your hand when Uraume’s laughter dies down. You read back over the messages, sending the most direct response you can, although you get the sensation you know the response already.

10:03 PM You || Is something wrong?

It’s mere seconds before his reply comes across.

10:03 PM Kuna || no

10:03 PM Kuna || yes

Scowling at your phone in confusion again, Uraume spots your expression and shuffles closer to you. “Is everything okay with him?” They ask, keeping their voice down.

“I’m not sure. He’s acting a bit weird,” you whisper back to them.

Uraume frowns, their earlier teasing tone now turned to completely serious concern for their friend. “Truth be told, he hasn’t been doing very well. He seemed off the last few times I saw him.”

“Distant?” You question.

Uraume tilts their head in thought. “Yeah, distant. Not all there.”

Tapping your thumb along the side of your phone, you stare at the date. The court date is quickly approaching, and as much as he likes to think he can handle things on his own, you know better. Even Choso knows better.

And Choso is twelve.

10:04 PM You || What’s wrong?

10:04 PM Kuna || i need help

Staring at your phone in bewilderment, genuine concern settles in. The world must be ending for Sukuna to be asking for help. Not a favor, not something he’ll find a way to pay you back for. Help.

10:05 PM You || What’s going on? What’s wrong?

You attempt to repeat your question, hoping he’ll give you some sort of explanation.

10:05 PM Kuna || call me

Your heart begins picking up its pace as you push to your feet and move to the back of the room in an effort to keep the call private. Hitting the phone icon, you’re connected to Sukuna almost instantly, but you don’t hear anything over the line.

“Hello? Sukuna?” You cover your other ear with your palm, wondering if maybe your connection is weak.

“Hey. Can you talk?” He croaks out. Each word is pushed out as though it’s a hurdle, his breath coming in pants and wheezes.

“Sukuna, are you having a-”

“Yeah,” he interrupts before you can finish your sentence.

Your entire demeanor softens, unable to be upset with him.

“I know you’re pissed at me,” he struggles through his words, inhaling sharply. “But I didn’t know who else to ask.” He exhales shakily.

You cast a glance at Uraume, who’s watching you intently. Though you know they helped Sukuna a few years ago to work through his mental health, they don’t strike you as a particularly gentle person. A good friend, but maybe not the person you’d call while struggling with anxiety.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” you soothe, tucking your phone between your ear and your shoulder in an attempt to make a motion resembling a steering wheel convey a silent message to Uraume. They tilt their head, so you point at the phone and mouth the word ‘Uber’ to them. Their brow raises as the same urgency in your eyes transfers to theirs. They’re on their phone in an instant, ordering an Uber for you. “Breathe in and hold, I’m grabbing my jacket and I’m on my way.”

Slipping over to Uraume, you whisper a ‘thank you’, and walk past them and Iori on the floor, headed in a rush towards the door. “Breathe out.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Uraume asks urgently, following after you, but you shake your head, making a motion that you’ll text them. They nod solemnly, leaning over to Shoko to fill her in on your sudden departure as well.

“Breathe in and hold again,” you instruct softly but firmly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you wait for the Uber. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you check the text Uraume sent you with the Uber’s license plate, sharing your location with them just in case.

“Breathe out,” you murmur over the phone, “I’m on my way.”

You hear his shaky exhale, and the hoarse croak of his voice as you crawl into the Uber.

“Just need you to talk, I know you’re busy-”

“Just let me help, Sukuna,” you insist, interrupting him. He doesn’t reply, relenting as you continue to walk him through his breathing. “Can you get to the door to unlock it?”

He grunts, and you hear shuffling on his end for a moment, continuing your breathing instructions until the shuffling comes to a stop. “It’s open.”

“Keep breathing for me, okay? We’re just pulling up.”

Thanking the Uber driver, you keep the line open as you dial up to his apartment. You hear the buzzer ring for a split second on his end, before the door clicks. Making your way up to his apartment, you jog through the door quietly and carefully, shutting it behind you and dropping your boots and coat off in a pile at the door.

The apartment hasn’t changed much since you were here, though there’s paper all across the house and it seems the boys have been dabbling in origami based on the paper ninja stars and what you can only imagine is meant to be a crane sitting on the coffee table.

Padding quietly through the living room, you hold the phone up to your ear. “Are you in your room?”

“Washroom,” he grunts before hanging up.

Shoving your phone in your pocket, you carefully open the washroom door, shutting it quietly behind you. The fluorescent overhead lights are on, illuminating Sukuna leaning against the wall near the bathtub at the back of the room. His knees are bent to his chest, his elbows propped up on them, his hands burrowed in his tangled hair. The landline phone used to let you in with the buzzer is discarded on the floor to his right.

The sound of the door quietly clicking behind you catches his attention as he peers past his wrist at you. His skin is gaunt, his appearance unkempt and jaw rife with tension. He looks downright exhausted, and you can only guess how long he’s been sitting in this position alone, debating whether he should reach out at all.

You may not know it, and there’s a high likelihood that Sukuna will never tell you, but he’s been in this position before. On the floor, in a washroom that no longer feels like home with a crushing weight pressing down on him. The difference this time around is that when he calls the one number that may numb his pain, he’s not met with a voicemail.

While that voicemail may be dear to him for reasons he can’t bear to think about, the gentle reply of your voice on the other line brings relief that the voicemail never could.

His dad would be proud of him for reaching out.

No matter how upset with him you still are.

“Hey,” you softly greet him, kneeling down until you’re perched on your knees. Your breathing instructions must have helped a bit, because he’s not as bad as he sounded earlier. His chest rises and falls a bit too quickly still, his skin clammy with sweat, but he’s more present than the day outside his building.

Gingerly, you reach up to move his hands from his hair. He doesn’t protest, his jaw slightly ajar as though the air is physically seeping from his lungs.

“Keep breathing deeply,” you murmur, letting him hold one of your hands as you use the other to move his sweat-drenched hair from his forehead. “You’re burning up, give me a moment, okay?”

Running your thumb gently over the back of his hand a couple of times, you push to your feet and slip into the hall, grabbing a hand towel from the linen closet. Slipping quietly back into the washroom and shutting the door behind you, you turn on the tap, running the towel under cold water and wringing it out.

Sukuna blinks his eyes open, desperation and guilt swirling within the crimson as he watches the way you wipe his forehead. Moving the hood of his black hoodie away, you rest the towel around his shoulders, pressing it against the back of his neck.

His eyes raise to stare at the ceiling as you plop down onto your knees in front of him and shoot him a reassuring smile. “Keep breathing for me,” you encourage him, taking a hold of his hand again and rubbing soothing circles into his knuckles. “In… and out.” You continue to encourage him, keeping as calm as you can despite your own concern and uncertainty.

Your gut twists in pain at the sight of him so vulnerable, so genuinely hurt that he’s willing to ask for help. You care too much to deny him when he’s clearly in pain, even as you struggle with thoughts of the complicated relationship you have with this man. No matter how upset you are with him, you can’t bear the thought of him suffering alone.

Sukuna’s head falls forward, his eyes on his knees as his breathing finally begins evening out, the room no longer feeling claustrophobic.

Giving him a moment to catch his breath, you remain silent as you rub his knuckles. Once he seems more present, his gaze flickering around the room and taking in his surroundings, you finally speak. “What happened?”

“Had a meeting with the lawyer,” he rasps, shaking his head as he flips it back in an effort to keep his hair off his forehead.

“It didn’t go well?”

Sukuna inhales sharply, holding his breath for a moment. “Went fine. Just need to see if I can get a letter from Maya, have her sign off on my salary n’ shit.”

“That’s good,” you nod along. “What happened after that?” You push him for details, hoping he’ll get whatever’s on his mind out into the open.

He slides his hand out of yours, running it through his hair with a sigh. “The kids overheard me askin’ if I would have any more time with them if I lost.”

Your brows tie together in sympathy. “Choso…?”

Sukuna shakes his head, throwing his hand through the air in an exasperated shrug. “He shut down. I dunno how to help him, I-” he pauses, dragging his hand through his hair again. A stray strand of salmon falls down over his forehead and into his vision. He likely hasn’t had a chance to get his hair cut in a while, and it seems it’s bothering him as much as Choso’s is, though you can’t imagine Sukuna will let you put his hair up like his little brother does. “You’re so much better with them than I am.”

You blink, your lips parting at his confession. “You’re good with them, Sukuna.” Before you can continue, he interjects with a snarl.

“Keepin’ a roof over their heads isn’t being good to them!” He growls, teeth gritted in frustration. At the sight of your dejection, he backpedals quickly. “Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” He throws his head back in frustration, hitting his head on the wall hard enough to wince. “Shit-” He mutters, rubbing the back of his head.

“Sukuna,” you get his attention with a soft smile, pulling him from his spiraling frustration.

He fixes you with a scowl, his eyes flitting around your face. His shoulders fall as he relaxes, leaning his head against the wall gently this time. “Sorry, princess.”

“It’s okay. Just talk to me,” you encourage him, watching as he reaches out to fiddle with your fingers. Biting your lip, you will your heart to relax, grateful he can’t feel your pulse as it skyrockets from his touch.

You’re not as over him as you thought, but you suppose you knew that already.

“Cho locked himself in the brats’ room and Yuji wouldn’t stop crying. Don’t think he knew what was goin’ on.” Sukuna sighs, rubbing his free hand harshly over his face. “Cried until he fell asleep. Choso’s probably still awake, but I can’t get into his room without pickin’ the lock,” he mutters, scratching at his chest as the familiar weight of guilt and stress begin to press down on him again, his breathing growing somewhat erratic.

“Where’s Yuji asleep?” You whisper softly.

“Moved him to my room.”

God, no wonder he was struggling. “How long has this been going on?”

Sukuna’s thumb runs over your nails, focusing on the glossy finish of your manicure. “The lawyer left at six.”

You blink at him, your lips parting. “And Choso locked himself in his room right away?”

Sukuna nods, the tension in his shoulders rising again. “Couldn’t get Yuji to stop crying, couldn’t get Cho to open the door.” He scratches at his chest, stress settling deep within him once more as the room begins to close in on him. He lets his head hang, his hair falling down over his forehead once again. “I dunno how you got Cho to open up a bit, but I fucked shit up again.”

You press your lips into a thin line, comfortingly squeezing the tips of his fingers before pulling your hand from his. His eyes dart towards you, watching intently as you grab the towel from the back of his neck, heading back to the sink. Wetting the towel with more fresh, cool, water, you wring out the excess and kneel back down in front of him.

He doesn’t protest as you run the towel over his forehead, replacing it over the back of his neck. He rolls his shoulder as water rolls down his spine, but the sensation is somewhat welcome as a distraction from the tightening in his chest.

“You know,” you begin, adjusting the towel in an attempt to keep the water from running down his chest too. “You may not realize it, but you are good with them.” Sitting back on your heels, you evaluate your work before meeting his eyes, which are watching you intently. “You know their favorite foods, what they need when they’re sick, what they like to play and watch.”

“That’s surface-level shit,” he grumbles.

Reaching out softly, you let him fiddle with your fingers again. He doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it.

“You might think so,” you shrug, “but I bet those things mean a lot to them. You’re encouraging Yuji’s love of sports, and Cho’s passion for cooking. You can’t tell me the gifts you got them for Christmas didn’t mean anything to them, or you.”

Sukuna blinks, glaring at the bathtub to his left like it’s personally offended him.

“Do you know how carefully Yuji colored that Sonic you drew? Or how excited they got when you played Nerf with them?”

He doesn’t reply, his jaw tightening as he recalls the Christmas eve spent with you and Uraume. Slowly, his hand moves to engulf your much smaller one, squeezing. Your heart is in your throat at the feeling of his thumb smoothing over your skin. There’s no world where this is good for your progress in getting over him, but it doesn’t matter, so long as he isn’t struggling on his own.

“I know you’re trying to be their parent, but that’s not what you are, Kuna.” He jerks his head towards you, his stomach fluttering as the nickname he’s grown more fond of than he’d previously realized slips so effortlessly from your lips. “I know you have the responsibility of a parent, and they realize that too, they’re smart, but they also need their brother.”

His tongue slides across his lower lip as he listens intently.

“They need the Sukuna who can turn off ‘parent mode’ and toss a basketball around with them, or beat them in MarioKart because that Sukuna can’t bear to lose to a five-year-old.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes dramatically as though you aren’t right.

“They love you, Sukuna.”

He inhales sharply, clinging to the deep breath like a lifeline. He knows his brothers care, but it’s hard to feel that it should be him taking care of them when he can’t even get his little brother to stop crying.

It stands as a cruel reminder of the question he couldn’t answer all those years ago from the social worker.

How the hell was he supposed to provide emotionally for his little brothers when he can’t even handle his own emotions? He’d had to call someone in a desperate attempt to escape the pain.

Not just anyone, but you, who he’s already feels an immense amount of guilt towards.

Sukuna leans his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Is that enough?” He mumbles, more as a rhetorical question than something he expects you to respond to. Yet in your infinite wisdom and kindness, you have an answer for that, too.

“You don’t have to be the only person they can turn to. It’s okay to need help, Sukuna.”

Tired pupils with dark circles weighing them down fall to his knees. He reaches up to scratch his chest with his spare hand, inhaling deeply. “I can’t just call you every time Choso’s acting off,” he mumbles, pulling his hand back to rest on his knees as he withdraws into himself at the idea of calling on the one person who doesn’t want to hear from him.

Well, one of the two. He can’t imagine Toji is his biggest fan either.

Pulling your hands back into your lap, you stare at your manicured nails, as though they might hold the answer. “Maybe not,” you agree, “but you don’t have to try to figure it out alone every time.”

He glances at you through his peripherals, dragging his fingers through his sweat-slicked hair. His lip curls in disgust at the feeling.

“Why’d you come in the first place?”

“Here?” You query, tilting your head.

Something flutters in Sukuna’s stomach, threatening to eat him from the inside out, leaving a taste on his tongue that’s so sickly sweet he thinks his body is tricking him into thinking he’s about to upheave the contents of his stomach. Yet, there’s no bile at the back of his throat, this is something different entirely. And that thought makes his chest tighten again.

Clutching at his chest, he nods in response, fighting to keep his breathing even.

“Just because I haven’t forgiven you doesn’t mean I want you to go through this alone.”

Somehow, that makes this hurt even more for Sukuna. He can’t help but feel as though he’s manipulating your overwhelming kindness, although that’s not the case. You’re too sweet for him, too sweet for the world he comes from and lives in.

Clutching the edge of the bathtub, he feels his heart accelerating, his breathing following shortly behind.

Catching a glance at the way his chest is rising and falling faster, you step in to stop his panic before it gets unbearable. “Talk to me, walk me through your thoughts,” you speak gently, running your palm back and forth along the length of his forearm.

Staring at the ceiling with a lidded, exhausted gaze, he shakes his head. “Just tryin’ to catch my breath,” he croaks, unwilling to admit that he has half a mind to kick you out if it only means he won’t be fucking up the strange agreement that’s settled between you both like a rickety bridge, as though your hand isn’t already outstretched to him on one end of it.

But Sukuna’s nothing if not dense.

“I think some fresh air would do you good,” you suggest, pushing yourself up off your knees. You extend your hand, but he doesn’t take it, opting to use the leverage from pushing his hand against the edge of the tub to get to his feet. He throws the towel in the sink on the way out.

The tattooed man trudges after you as you lead the way to the balcony, peering outside at the snow covering it. Jogging to the front door, you grab your boots and coat and Sukuna’s, offering them to him as you throw your jacket on. He slips his feet into the shoes in a half-assed fashion, leaving the coat unzipped as he keeps his focus on breathing evenly.

Heading out first, you use your boots to shove some of the snow aside. Sukuna follows after you, leaning over the railing. As he does that, you grab a couple of chairs from the kitchen, placing them facing one another on the balcony, before shutting the door.

The cool air on his skin is refreshing, the bite of the faint breeze seeming to lessen the weight on his chest, just a little bit.

Tugging on his jacket sleeve, you point to the chair behind him. “Take a seat.”

Grunting, he slides down in the chair, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Any better?”

He nods, staring up at the sky as he slumps back in the chair. It’s faint from the city’s light pollution, but a few stars twinkle at him in the distance. You follow suit, sliding down in the chair to rest the back of your head against it, staring up at the few visible stars. Your foot brushes against the tip of his boot, nudging it a few times as you shuffle in your chair to get comfy, zipping your coat up.

“Can you believe those are all stars?”

Sukuna clears his throat, his breathing evening the longer he spends out in the frigid night air. It’s warmed up enough over the past week that it’s bearable, though he does run warm. He hums in agreement, letting out a long, and surprisingly steady breath.

“How far away do you think that one is?” You point at the brightest one in the sky. Sukuna cranes his neck to see what you’re pointing at, serving as a great distraction from his thoughts.

His voice is still hoarse as he replies. “I think that’s Jupiter. Maybe Venus.”

You raise your head to look at him, curious. “It’s a planet?” As you watch his eyes dart around the night sky, you’re grateful to find that he seems more at ease. His features are only illuminated by the dull glow of the light from the entrance of the apartment that you’d flicked on upon arrival and whatever lights decorate the street. The dull yellow glow makes the darkened circles beneath his eyes painfully obvious, though you notice they actually seem a bit better than when you’d met him at the coffee shop last week. Maybe the new job is doing him good.

“I think so. It’s been a few years since I took Astronomy,” he shrugs in his seat, nudging your foot. “The ones that don’t flicker are planets.”

“Huh, I never knew.”

Sukuna hums, pulling his hands out of his pockets to fold them over his chest. As your eyes return to the sky, he lifts his head. You haven’t changed much in the time since he last saw you, though you don’t look as worn thin as you had been when you were helping him. He wonders if maybe your life is better with him sidelined, where you can focus on yourself.

Yet, he knows that it’s that mindset that landed him in this position, staring at a crater that separates you both where once he could reach for you freely. He’s not enough of a fool to let himself think that again. Uraume’s words still ring in the back of his mind, serving as a constant reminder that he might not know you as well as he once thought.

He remembers thinking once that you were a sun, while he was little more than a star about to burn out. Maybe he had run his course already with you, and if that was the case, he supposes that’s fine, but if a planet that produces no light can shine brighter in the night sky than the stars themselves, maybe he does stand a chance at standing alongside you again.

He’s not really sure what he means or wants by that, either. He just knows he longs for your presence. Longs for this, whatever it is. This sense of tranquility with you.

As the silence stretches on with Sukuna quietly observing you while untangling his thoughts, your eyes fall from the sky to meet his, a small smile gracing your lips. You tilt your head questioningly, a familiar feeling of warmth flooding through Sukuna. Cute.

“You didn’t deserve all the shit I said.” It comes out in a flurry, before Sukuna has a chance to mediate his own words.

You avert your eyes, your smile dissipating. You know this conversation is a long time coming, and the one in the break room was only the beginning, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

“I… Appreciate that,” you tread carefully. Sukuna can see your walls coming up, carefully guarding your heart where once there were none. Walls erected to guard you from him.

“I know you didn’t see me as a project, or whatever the hell else I said,” he adds, staring down at his forearms. He takes in a long breath, watching it billow out in front of him. “I shouldn’t have used your scholarship, or all that Prom Queen shit against you. You work fuckin’ hard, I was just trying to hit where it hurt.”

“Because I hurt you?”

He shrugs. “Guess so. It’s a shit excuse, though.”

You examine his expression, taking a moment to take in his words. There’s a level of maturity held within his tone that you don’t recognize, though it suits him. He’s still the same Sukuna, with serrated edges and bared teeth, ready to leap at the opportunity to jump into a fight, but he’s quick to reel himself back and approach things just a bit more level-headed.

Scratching at the stubble that dots his jaw, giving him a five o’clock shadow, he sighs. “I know I said it the other day or whatever, but I’m sorry. I was an asshole.”

You nod a bit, taking in his apology. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I was trying to fix you. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you about little things, and I shouldn’t have accused you of endangering the kids. I was out of line.”

Sukuna just shrugs. “I know you meant well. Don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body.”

You crack a hint of a smile. “Well, it wasn’t very nice of me.”

Sukuna shrugs again, looking back up at the sky. “You’re fine, princess. Don’t worry about it.”

Your heart betrays you, flipping in your chest as he calls you princess again. Chewing on your lip, you stare at his sharp, stubbled-dotted chin. Disheveled beyond belief after his long and shitty day, he still looks handsome as hell. You can’t deny just how attractive he’s always been.

“What do I need to do?” Sukuna gruffs, clearing his throat as it tightens with the fear that you could shoot him down in only a couple of words. Less, if you wanted.

“What do you mean?”

“To get things to go back to normal.” His gaze shifts to a car pulling into the parking lot below the balcony.

You take pause, considering for a moment what’s good for you. The man sitting before you, though still stoic and rough around the edges, has clearly come a long way. Whether that earns him a second last chance, you’re not sure. You don’t expect things to go back to how they were right away, but forgiving him feels like a step in the right direction. Maybe that’s the final step you need to allow yourself to heal.

Even as you think that, your pounding heart betrays those thoughts.

Maybe it’s just what your longing heart wants you to think.

But if you want it so bad, can it be so wrong? Could you be thinking about things the wrong way? Maybe you don’t need to get over him to heal. Maybe he can be a part of the process.

“I don’t know,” you admit, wrestling with your own thoughts. “I can’t say for sure if things will ever be the same, but it means a lot to hear you apologize.”

He hums, shaking a stray strand of hair from his eyes. “Do you forgive me?”

“I…” you trail off in thought, chewing uncertainly on your lip.

“Do I need to get down on my knees and beg?” He raises an eyebrow in challenge.

A smile pulls at the edges of your lips. “Now that I’d love to see,” you chuckle wryly, shaking your head as you shuffle in the dining chair.

“Tough luck,” he scoffs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips for what feels like the first time in ages.

Shrugging, you tuck your hands under your thighs, staring down at the parking lot as a white rabbit darts out from snow-covered brush to erratically hop across the lot under the cover of a truck. “A girl can dream,” you mimic his lighthearted tone.

Sukuna observes you for a long moment, crimson gaze darting across each of your features. He caught your impish tone, but something in your eyes, a glaze of underlying sadness, tells him there’s a level of sincerity to your request.

At least, he thinks.

With a huff, Sukuna slides down off his chair onto his knees before you.

“Oh my god, what are you-?”

“You wanted me on my knees, or whatever,” he grumbles like it’s normal, though his tone is earnest.

A giggle bubbles in your throat that you attempt to stifle, sitting up. “I was joking, get up,” you plead.

“Does saying I’m sorry from down here make it more serious?”

“Sukuna please, oh my god, this is embarrassing-” You bite down on your lip, taking in your surroundings as though someone might see you.

“For who? I’m the one on my fuckin’ knees-” he points out with a brow raised, mild irritation crossing his frown and interrupting your rambling.

“Your knees are gonna get all wet, please get up,” you beg, unable to hold in your laughter any longer as you tug at his bicep, getting to your feet to attempt to pull him up.

Sukuna can’t help his smirk, any irritation dissipating at the sight of your laughter. It brings a sense of peace to his life that he hasn’t felt in a long time. Even in the midst of all the issues plaguing his life, you still brighten it so much that he doesn’t mind being on his knees. Even if he’s giving up some dignity to appease you.

“Kuna, cut it out!” You giggle, tugging on both of his forearms with as much strength as you can muster.

His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners at your use of his nickname, but he stays put, insistent on earning your forgiveness in any way he can. When he doesn’t budge, you cover your face, though your muffled laughter still rings out in the open winter air. “Please get up, oh my god,” you giggle, peeking through your fingers.

“Alright, alright,” he relents finally, pushing up to his feet with a grunt.

“Your knees are soaked,” you murmur, brushing his sweatpants off for him, though his knees have two darker gray patches decorating them.

“My knees will live,” he gruffs, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

You raise a hand up to your lips, stifling your giggles as you turn back towards the parking lot. Sukuna joins you, brushing the snow off the railing so that his forearms don’t suffer the same fate as his knees.

Silence settles over you as you follow suit, leaning against the railing beside him. The rabbit you’d caught sight of earlier darts out from under the vehicle it had chosen, leaping up onto the sidewalk, camouflaged in snow. The light breeze rustles your hair, blowing strands of Sukuna’s salmon hair into his eyes. He shakes his head, his locks falling out of his vision.

The city is mostly silent at this time of night in the middle of winter. There’s no one out wandering at this time, even close to the college, with the cold. The distant sounds of cars driving across packed snow and thin layers of ice serve as little more than white noise.

“I forgive you.” You murmur, penetrating the comfortable silence.

Sukuna’s head whips towards you, as though in disbelief. He doesn’t say anything, blinking down at the rabbit sitting directly below the two of you. He’s never exactly been great with words as it stands.

“’Cause I got down on my knees, huh?” He settles on a teasing reply.

“God… no,” you giggle, craning your neck to look up at him. “Please don’t do that again.”

He huffs in amusement, nudging your shoulder.

“That doesn’t mean things are back to normal,” you warn more seriously, but he’ll take what he can get. He already knows he lost your trust and he doesn’t expect to get it back in what was just a desperate plea for help to pull him from the hole of doubt he’d dug himself into. After over an hour of working himself up and struggling to breathe, he’d felt out of options.

“I can live with that,” he mumbles, the breeze cutting through to his knees as it becomes increasingly clear that there’s wet patches where he’d been kneeling. The back of his neck is fairly chilly too from the towel. “Come inside,” he grunts, turning away from the railing to slide the door open.

Slipping your boots off, you attempt to shake some of the snow off onto the balcony before carrying them to the mat at the front door. Pulling your phone out, you glance at the message previews from Uraume checking in, shooting them a quick text to let them know everything is okay.

Sukuna drags both chairs back inside and casts a glance at the two room doors that are shut in the hall before meeting you at the front entrance with his own boots.

“What are you gonna do?”

Letting out a breath, Sukuna shakes his head. “Dunno. Sleep on the couch ‘til Yuji wakes up, try to get him to stop crying.” He shrugs. “I don’t think the kid’s gonna unlock the door.”

“Do you need a hand?”

Sukuna reaches up to scratch his jaw. “Nah, I’ll figure it out.”

Shoving his chest lightly, you fix him with a scowl. His head whips around to meet your gaze with equal disdain.

“The fuck was that for, brat?”

“How many times do I need to tell you to ask for help?” You groan, narrowing your eyes as you point at his chest.

Smacking your pointed finger aside with relative mercy, he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t fuckin’ shove me.”

“Sukuna. Focus.”

With a half-hearted sneer, he grumbles out a “fine,” giving in with little dramatism.

But it is Sukuna, so he does have to make a bit of a show of it.

“I’ll text ya when Yuji wakes up if shit’s bad, alright?”

Nodding, you cast a glance towards the back hall. “Uraume wants to help, too. Just… ask, when you need it.”

He regards you with his usual stoic expression. “Mm,” is his only reply, a silence settling between you that doesn’t quite feel as comfortable as you’d grown accustomed to with Sukuna so long ago. It isn’t even the same comfortable silence that you’ve felt with him tonight. There’s something unspoken, something hanging in the air, settling on the tips of your tongues that remains a talking point, but before Sukuna can voice his question, you glance at your phone.

“I should call an Uber.”

He hums once more, shoving his hands in his pockets as the opportunity passes. “Drink some water.”

You tilt your head questioningly, and fuck, Sukuna has no right to find it so sweet, so… attractive?

Clearing his throat, Sukuna scowls as his surroundings become increasingly more interesting. “I can smell vodka.”

“Oh. Right, I was with Uraume and Shoko,” you explain simply, hitting a couple of buttons on your phone to call for an Uber. Satisfied, you nod to yourself. “They’re a minute away, I’m gonna head downstairs.”

Sukuna hums again, his usual guarded personality having completely returned now that he’s neither having a panic attack, nor physically begging for your forgiveness.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Probably, yeah.”

Shooting him a polite smile, you put your boots back on and turn towards the door. Only moments before it shuts does Sukuna find his voice again.

“I owe you.”

“Just say thank you, Sukuna.”

“Thanks, princess. Text me when you’re home.”

With a more genuine smile and a small wave, you head out the door, letting out a breath as you consider the weird limbo you’re in with Sukuna now. Forgiven, able to jest and connect on some level that never quite disappeared, but it’s as though there’s a thin, near-invisible barrier that still separates you. Something unspoken, hanging over your heads like a condition of sorts.

Yet you can’t quite place the uncertainty. It’s as though you’re both holding back, holding onto something that the other can’t place.

Crawling into the back seat of the Uber, you stare out the window at the passing lights, all blurring into one another as you lose yourself in thought.

You want to tell yourself you’re letting him back in as nothing more than a friend, that you’ll keep your walls up and let him in bit by bit as he earns his place within your life again, but that would disregard everything that took place tonight. Try as you might to keep him at arms’ length, he has a way of slipping through your defenses and tugging at your heart strings.

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt that this time will be better, though. Maybe it’s naive to expect that the Sukuna that you’ve seen over these past couple of weeks is here to stay, but you can’t deny that there’s been a shift.

You can only hope things stay this way, and if you’re lucky, maybe the distance between you that you can’t quite place will begin to crumble.

You can’t say for sure if it’s what you need, but your erratic heart has a funny way of telling you that it’s what you want.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

❦ a/n ; in case you missed it, my best friend did some absolutely gorgeous and adorable art for the series here! can you tell i was listening to hozier when i wrote this LMAO anyway hiiii my loves, thank you sm for reading as always <33 i really hope you enjoyed it, that last scene has been on my mind for a couple of chapters and i couldn't possibly end the chapter without it, so uh 19.2k words it was LOL i expect the next chapter to most likely be longer as well, and it may take me a bit more time going forward since i have some research to do on legal proceedings and whatnot (you know what that means 🤭) so bear with me on that, i want to make sure i do everything justice. i also just want to mention that i do really appreciate each and every like, comment, reblog, and ask, it genuinely means the world to me and i read each and every one and love chatting with y'all <33 aaaanyway i'm yapping again so i'll stop LOL but thanks for sticking with me for my fave extremely slow burn couple 🫶

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @jeonwiixard

@ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears

@tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts

@lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811

@toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @moonchhu

@privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast

@axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[melshifting]

～S/O extras for your script! 𐙚

• [001] You both know how to balance between spending time together and when to remain individual, ensuring that your bond feels fresh and not suffocating.

• [002] You always feel wanted; whether through subtle gestures, glances or spontaneous romantic moments, there's no doubt about how your partner feels about you.

• [003] Your partner's compliments are neither generic nor obligatory. Each is so specific and sincere that it makes you feel truly seen and appreciated.

• [004] Your S/O never compares you to anyone else, making you feel like the only person who matters; they're totally focused on you only.

• [005] They never make you feel like you are asking for too much, even if your desires are unusual or require some effort. They meet your needs with enthusiasm and willingness to make you happy.

• [006] Your S/O naturally avoids doing anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or insecure, even unintentionally.

• [007] They seem to have an inexhaustible reserve of patience for your pet peeves, frustrations, or bad days, always responding with love and understanding rather than irritation.

• [008] Even in a room full of people, their eyes always find you first - there is an undeniable attraction that draws them directly to you, wherever you are.

• [009] When something in your relationship doesn't work out, they take the necessary responsibility without deflecting blame, showing maturity rather than spite.

• [010] Your S/O never tries to turn you into someone else. Instead, they fall more in love with you for the things that make you unique.

• [011] They always validate your feelings, and never belittle or despise them, even if sometimes they don't fully understand them.

• [012] They never allow the opinion of others to cloud their view of you, including their friends and family if that were the case.

• [013] No one else could captivate them like you - they're not physically/literally capable of looking at anyone in the same way.

• [014] When they tell you 'I love you', it is not just a statement, but an unbreakable vow. Not only do they love you, but they have a devotion that words can't explain.

• [015] They will never let you go to sleep upset. Even if you have to stay up all night to work things out, they can't rest until things are right between you.

• [016] They don't just want you, they need you, in an almost primal way - as if the thought of being apart for too long physically hurts them.

────୨ৎ────

[ariel26c]

🎀Things I’ve learned about Shifting 🎀

1. Background noise doesn’t matter. I come from a Hispanic family household and let me tell you hun it’s freaking loud as hell. It’s like a zoo lol but guess what? I still shifted. At some point you will start to feel your CR kinda “fade away”. I have been in this state where I am in between my CR and DR. I can hear background noise from my CR but I still feel like I’m in a different room or I hear sounds from my DR as well. Has anyone experienced this?? Let me know, I’m curious 🤨

2. Have patience. Allow yourself to relax and naturally connect to your DR. Don’t stress about having random thoughts or having an itch or things like that. Have patience with yourself like seriously you got this babe. Sometimes for me it’s feels like it’s takes 1 or 2 hours until I feel fully connected to my DR. (It’s different for everyone btw) you may take less time than I do. Those things don’t matter if you decide that those things don’t matter.

3. Methods really aren’t needed. If you think about it all methods consist of the same thing usually. It usually consists of affirmations, visualization, subliminal audios, meditation, counting, blah blah blah. If you want to use a method, then do that but don’t force yourself to do a method that doesn’t resonate with you. If you don’t like counting, then don’t count. If you don’t like visualizing, then don’t visualize. Change things up a bit and listen to music that reminds you of your DR or do something that you think is fun.

4. Just because some people like to lie about their shifting experiences doesn’t mean that shifting is fake. Just like in every community there is going to be people that are dishonest or don’t have the best intentions but that doesn’t mean that shifting is a big inside joke. Don’t allow these people to discourage you from shifting to your DR or make you doubt in its existence. Don’t depend on other people's content to feel motivated or believe in shifting. Just KNOW it’s real and motivate yourself to shift. (even though motivation isn’t needed to shift)

5. Shifting is Real. I think we all should know this by now, but I don’t think people really fully understand just how REAL shifting is. I mean you are going to be able to use all of your senses. You will be able to taste food, see your reflection in the mirror, talk to people that may be considered as fictional in this reality, etc. The process of shifting is safe but if you are shifting somewhere that has violence or gore make sure you script your own well-being. High pain tolerance, no trauma, etc.

6. Time isn't important. Just because it's been 4 years or 5 doesn't mean you can't do it. Time doesn't apply to shifting because time is just man-made thing. We created the concept of time not the Universe. Don't blame the Universe for your "Failure". (Spoiler alert: it's not failure) You just need to realize that no matter what, it will happen. It is completely inevitable. Some people have shifted after 5 years so don't give up! It will be worth it.

7. You can't fail at shifting. When you do your method, you will shift to your DR or shift to your CR. You shift all the time. We are constantly shifting consciously or unconsciously. Manifestation and shifting are very much closely related. (But that's another discussion for another time) Just like how we are manifesting on autopilot we are also shifting on autopilot. So, when you do a sleep method, and you wake up in this reality instead of your DR you still shifted. (Just not to your DR) (Get it?)

I hope you found this post helpful! :)

[thebestsetter]

- I wish you'd dedicate a goal to me

- What? - Rin asked as he stared at the girl

- I said - (Name) said while not taking her eyes off the horror movie her and Rin were watching - I wish you'd dedicate a goal to me. Ya know, like Bachira does to his girlfriend - she sighed dreamly - or Isagi. Hell, even Kaiser dedicates his goals to his girlfriend.

- Hm - Rin said, taking his eyes off her and looking back at the TV - that's kinda stupid. Everyone knows you're dating me, so why would I need to do that? The game should continue as quickly as possible, so it would just be a waste of time.

The girl finally looked at him. If he stopped paying attention to that movie and decided to look at her too, he'd see the sad look in her eyes. The girl sighed again (this time, out of disappointment) and got up from the sofa.

- Hey, where are you going? - Rin said, finally pausing the movie (just as the main character was almost getting caught by the big, bad and scary monster) and looking at her again

- I'm going to bed - she responded. Quick, short and emotionless. Exactly the opposite of what her answers should be

- Then I'm going too - Rin got up from the sofa, kind of grateful that she made him turn off that horrible movie (he liked horror movies, but this one was ridiculous. The monster looked like phlegm and the script looked like it was written on colored paper with crayons by a 5 year old)

- Hm - she hummed, and the teal eyed boy was starting to get uncomfortable with her responses (or the lack of them)

Without another word, the couple went to their shared bedroom. (Name) sat down on the bed and decided to spend the next 30 minutes surfing the internet and liking some cute cat videos, while Itoshi went to the bathroom to shower (the last time he had taken a shower was in the morning, before breakfast. Yucky!).

When he finally locked the door, (Name) suddenly got a call from her best friend. She decided to pick up, since the girl always knew exactly how to cheer her up

- Hey (Name)!

- Hey.

- Okay, You can stop giving me that attitude, young lady. What happened?

Sighing for the third time in a span of 30 minutes, (Name) decided to tell her about the disgreement with her boyfriend.

- So yeah, I got kinda sad. He basically said our relationship was a waste of time, you know?

- I can't believe that bastard really said that. "That's stupid". If anything, he's the stupid one! - she said, mocking Rin by mimicking his voice. A very poor imitation, may I add. But it made you giggle, and that was exactly what she wanted - can't believe you're still going to his game tomorrow!

- Yeah - you said, a lot more happy thanks to the conversation with her - But can you blame me? VIP session, baby! - you both chuckled

- True. Well, I have to get going - she said, sadly cutting your convo short - I have a job interview tomorrow, since not all of us date a football player - she playfull rolled her eyes - but it was amazing talking to you!

- You always know how to make me smile. Thanks.

- Don't mention it! If he ever pulls any shit like that again, just break up with him OR don't hesitate to call me. I'll kick his ass for making my pookie wookie sad - she answered, using that ridiculous nickname you begged her to stop using

- Will do - you smiled - now go to sleep. You need to be in good form tomorrow!

- I'll get that job opportunity, you'll see.

- I don't doubt you one bit

- Bye, good night!

- Night! - (Name) said, turning the call off and finally going to sleep with a calmer mind.

What she didn't expect, however, was that Rin was hearing every. second. of. the. call.

It's not like he wanted to hear it, he just happened to be attently listening to every word (Name) said and trying to understand what her friend said too. It's not his fault his gf uses speaker mode!

The Itoshi got out of the bathroom and stared at the phone with a dumbfolded expression, not believing ehat he had just heard.

"I can't believe (Name) got mad because of that" because of me, is what he really thought, but he decided to lie to himself claiming that "it wasn't his fault"

- ...why are you looking at my phone like that? - the girl said after being woken up by the light coming out of the bathroom.

- Like what?

- Like that!

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- Okay then. If you're acting stupid to make me angry, congratulations! It's very effective

- I'm not acting stupid

- You're right! You're not acting stupid, you are stupid

- Hold on - he put his hands in front of his body - are you seriously mad at me for not wanting to dedicate you a goal?

- Wow! What a genius!

- Not a fan of the attitude

- Not a fan of you being an asshole

Rin decided that arguing was useless. Afterall, you were always very sarcastic when mad, so any efforts to make you less angry were fruitless. There was only one way to solve this argument, and Rin already knew what he was gonna do. So, he finally decided to lay in bed.

- Nuh uh, you're sleeping on the couch tonight.

- What?! You wouldn't do this to me.

- Yep, I would. Couch. Now.

Yeah. He had to solve this shit fast.

"And there he goes again, Rin Itoshi dominating the field once more! "

He was at the top of his game today. It almost made you pity the other team, really. Two goals in the first half of the game is a big deal. And, sadly, none of them were dedicated to you. Not that you were expecting it. You knew how stubborn Rin was, but you were just as (if not even more) petty.

So, you decided you would leave the game early. You wish he could see you leaving, but he would notice your absence sooner or later.

- Wow, this game just keeps getting more interesting! A penalty for the team led by Rin Itoshi, and it looks like he will be the one to shoot it. I'm sure he wants to score a hat trick, so that's his chance! And he isn't someone who loses his chances often.

He sure isn't. Because, the moment he grabbed the ball, he looked at your chair, eyes sparkling and almost pleading for you to watch him. And even though you wanted to leave him alone, something inside of you told you to wait. So, you decided to humor him for a bit.

"The ref blows the wistle. Itoshi looks at the ball, runs and... GOALLLL!!!! A hat trick from the one and only Rin Itoshi, ladies and gentleman!"

You rolled your eyes, cause you knew he wouldn't lose this, and decided to finally leave. Afterall, your gut was wrong. Nothing extraordinary happened. Or at least you thought nothing did.

- Love, wait!

No way. Rin freaking Itoshi was not jumping the fence separating the field from the stands just to get to you.

- This goal was for you, ya know?

This wasn't happening, right? He for sure wasn't hugging your waist so tight it was making you red (yes, of course your red face was only caused by the lack of air filling your lungs because of his grip. Of course you weren't feeling shy or anything)

- I didn't think dedicating you a goal was necessary because I thought you knew all of my goals were and are for you. Everything I do is for you. I love you. And since I love you, you don't deserve only a goal: you deserve a whole ass hat trick. This is for you, love.

You were crying. In front of thousands eyes and in front of the television. The whole world could see your ugly crying red face, but you strangely couldn't care less. Not when Rin was closing the distance between your faces, and specially not when the striker was kissing you with so much passion it made you wanna cry even more. And so, you laugh.

- Yeah, you're not sleeping on the couch again tonight.

~ A/N: not proof read, so sorry for any mistakes!!! Also, the friend got the job after the interview 👍

Masterlist

[deadtoes666]

Can we talk about Laura Lee? Like, REALLY talk?

(This is super long and not perfect)

I'm going to start with the Summer camp scene here. The scene itself is a sweltering day at a pool, busy with kids at play. We see a sign above the pool reading ‘Mary Magdalene Summer Camp’ and a faint ‘bible study’ poster behind Laura Lee, both insisting that this is run by a christian organisation. We then pan to a younger Laura, at least a year before the plane crash, sitting by the pool with her legs in the water. She then gets up and hovers over the edge of the pool for a moment, before diving in head first. Once she hits the water, she outstretches her palms, grazing them against the bottom of the pool, but making no attempt to stop herself from hurling into a concussion. As a result, she passes out from the impact of bashing her head against the bottom of the pool, floating at the stop with blood flowing from her forehead. In the lingering moment before she dives, I think she's hesitating. She’s thinking ‘should I really do this?’ because she's about to take her own life. After the jump, she is so unafraid to die, that I think it proves that she is really trying to hurt herself, because she doesn't seem to get a last rush of fear. I think she knew very well where she was and what would happen to her.

But, why would Laura Lee want to attempt suicide? Well, let’s see: Laura Lee was raised into religion, implied to have the ‘big christian poster family’; she is hinted to have mental health problems in the second episode where she says “This is all my fault”, blaming herself for the plane crash; and she could very well be feeling disconnected to her religion or even God itself. This disconnect is interesting when you look at Laura Lee’s not-so-goody-two-shoes acts like: going to parties, playing defence in sport, and having a close relationship with both Lottie and Van. Although it was scrapped, Laura Lee and Van were best friends in the original Yellowjackets script, and this is a very interesting choice, because we know that Van is lesbian. Sadly, we never get to learn if Laura Lee knows this, but we do get some implications of what both Van and Tai assumed of her. The very episode after Laura’s death, Van and Taissa stop hiding their relationship from the other girls, and kiss at the ‘dooms-coming’ party. Earlier in the show, Van says that ‘we can’t hide it forever’ and Tai responds with ‘I just don’t want to deal with the drama’. It’s possible that the ‘drama’ Tai refers to could be Laura Lee’s reaction, fuelled by her bible worship. However, considering that the original script was going to make Van and Laura very close friends, I tend to doubt that Laura was really as homophobic as Tai (rightfully) assumes. She played on a girl’s football team, for christ’ sake– Laura knew damn well about the queer connotations of that, it was the 90s. And this isn’t the only thing Laura Lee could be going against her religion with. Referring back: she attends high school parties in the woods; Even though she preaches about god, she’s in a woman’s soccer team– which isn’t condemnable, but very unusual for an aspiring christian housewife; She also has quite the temper, even if she doesn't show it most of the time. We do get to see this in her scene with Ben in episode ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’, when she asks “What are you going to do to stop me?” after he tries to stop her from leaving. In this scene, she’s not afraid to curse and admit reality. She says she has to go, “Or else we’re all going to fucking starve.” She's ambitious and determined - which are well or ill qualities in their own right, but may be not what's expected from a ‘good Christian girl’.

All to say, Laura Lee feeling disconnected from her religion because she doesn't agree with major preaching points is very much plausible. The summer camp scene itself is there to show how and why Laura Lee is so devout in the current day, and this could hint that Laura wasn’t nearly as nun-like before her suicide attempt. Perhaps she tries to take her own life as a way to test her dwindling faith. She's young and developing, and her close relationship with Lottie can definitely be read as something more than a simple friendship, meaning she could very well be read as queer herself. This could also explain her friendship and kinship with Van. Maybe because Laura Lee was growing apart from many christian beliefs, she was desperate to be proved wrong, because she loved her family and knew that she wouldn’t be accepted if she lived her truth. 

I take Laura’s act of jumping into the pool as a dare. A test to God. ‘If I live, I've been saved. if I die, God is false.’ It’s a very risky bet, but not one that Laura Lee isn't scared to try. If God is false, she doesn’t see herself having anything to live for. No community, no family. She is so ingrained into christianity that she would die if it wasn’t true. She was yearning for a close connection to god. She can’t consider anything else; it’s her way of following religion. If God ‘allows’ Laura Lee to keep living, it means she has a purpose to fill. A mission, something, anything – she's not lost. It allows her to ignore (or deny) other parts of her identity. After she is saved by the lifeguard, she tries to thank him, but even he refuses to take any credit, and tells Laura Lee to thank God. This is why she is so incredibly devout. Even in her last moment of clarity, the person who saved her redirected her back to God.

This scene creates such a strong impression because of the amount of small details and little things that allude to Laura Lee’s mental illness, and why she repeatedly tries to hurt herself. This young girl has been forced into an incredibly restrictive and toxic environment, and she struggles to find herself amongst priests who tell her right from wrong. And it isn’t just when she tries to kill herself in the pool that’s impactful, but also when she tries to fly a plane that has been abandoned in the woods upwards of decades. She's completely untrained, and would be flying through a complex area filled with mountains and valleys, where even highly experienced pilots have struggled. She had no idea how far she had to fly, and in what direction, let alone how to land, or what conditions would be like. Not only is this incredibly insane, but it’s just dumb. Yes, Laura says it’s for the good of the group. Yes, she says it’s to save Van and Shauna– but it’s impossible. Her grandfather was a pilot, so it’s not like she was uneducated. She does it for god. She tests him yet again. Laura Lee uses her faith as an excuse to put herself in harm's way again. 

Expanding on her “This is all my fault” comment, we also know that Laura Lee can’t imagine God wanting to punish the other yellowjackets. She knows all too well that none of them are saints: getting drunk, having physical relations before marriage, and being queer (If we assume that Laura knows). She thinks so lowly of herself that she immediately takes the blame for an uncontrollable plane crash, blaming herself just because she called her piano teacher ‘a cunt’ in her own mind, sobbing “But god heard me. And now he's punishing all of us (because of her actions).” While this is also meant to serve as a comedic scene, with all the characters laughing at Laura Lee, it has some deeper implications into Laura Lee’s harmful mindset. This really shows how her upbringing negatively impacts her, with this ‘it’s all my fault’ mindset linking back to divine punishment. 

Despite her low self-worth, Laura Lee still manages to be a good character with strong morals. She is continuously understanding of Lottie and so sweet and gentle with her when she shows interest in Laura’s religion. Not only that, but she isn’t incredibly pushy about God, despite being so pious. She doesn't bring up God especially often in the wilderness, where everyone is scared and vulnerable. She keeps her religion mostly to herself. This contrasts most preachers, as so many major (mainly christian) religions rely on preying on the needy to collect followers. Preachers often see moments of vulnerability as an opportunity for people to ‘let god into their heart’, but Laura Lee doesn't do such things. In fact, I'd say she discusses God less now that she's in the wilderness. Before the crash, it seemed like every line of dialogue linked back to God. When considering Laura Lee’s own moment of ‘saviour’ (being resuscitated from a suicide attempt), one may dare to say that she was one of the vulnerable people who the church trapped herself. Despite being raised into christianity, I don’t think she truly believed when she was old enough to know that Santa Claus wasn’t real either. Maybe she had a tweenage rebellion, but we know painfully little about Laura Lee’s past.

All of these things have such an impact because it directly tackles the power that ‘God’, as an idea, can give to mentally ill people. Laura Lee puts herself in harm's way ‘for the sake of god’ when she really just wants to die. This is why she doesn't get the help she needs. Everyone sees her acts as devotion, when they are harmful. Flying the plane follows the same path as the pool scene: God lets Laura Lee live, and she saves the day; or God isn't here, and Laura Lee dies. She's provoking both God and the Wilderness, if they exist. If they do not, Laura Lee is just following her suicidal tendencies by risking her life with an excuse: potentially saving the others. And, as we know, nothing can save Laura Lee from her violent plane explosion. In the moments before her death, she is so glad to have the chance to save everyone, and panics when the fire lights. She looks around frantically, repeating “No, no…”, but knows that she can’t stop the inevitable. Laura Lee doesn't even look particularly afraid after realising that she is about to die, and there’s nothing she can do. There's a fire lit beside her, but she just keeps looking forward, inhaling the smoke. She clutches her necklace, calm and serene, and the plane implodes. It’s a bittersweet feeling to see the death of a character who was trying to die, but, as Lottie had written on her chalkboard in Shana, Van, and Akilah’s hallucination in episode three of season three: ‘Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.’ It was a mercy to Laura Lee, so that she didn't need to endure the horrors of winter and thereafter.

It's fascinating to compare Laura Lee with Jackie on their shared suicidal ideologies, because they're both trying to kill themselves in their own way. Laura Lee hides it (to others, but I think also to herself) behind her faith and her desire to save everyone, whereas Jackie stops eating and begins to self-isolate. They're both trying to be subtle about it, but they both want to die.

One of the few characters that respond to Laura’s small signs of instability is Lottie. When everyone laughs at Laura for her piano teacher confession, Lottie jumps in to reveal her own plane-crashing secret: She steals from T.J. Max, only to return the clothes and collect ‘T.J. bucks’ in the hundreds. So, in a way, it was Lottie who started the round of team confessions to show that Laura Lee wasn't alone, helping to turn a silly moment into team bonding. It’s fascinating because this is the first time we get to see Lottie's observation skills and empathy as leadership qualities, even if she still has the quiet girl status at the time. Throughout Lottie’s metamorphosis into who she is in season two, Laura Lee is there to encourage her into speaking up, and giving Lottie the confidence she needed to be able to grow into herself. When Lottie is unmedicated, Laura Lee is one of her few pillars of support and understanding. Even though it may not be good for Lott, Laura listens to and considers the things that Lottie is seeing in an honest and slightly delusional manner. Laura Lee sees Lottie as a prophet of God. During their time in the wilderness, Laura Lee and Lottie grow much closer. Laura Lee supports Lottie and believes in her visions even when there is no reason to. She believed Lottie was a prophet and her visions were messages from god, and this may not have been the best for either of them, but it made them happy, at least. Laura takes these dark parts of Lottie that have been repressed for years as a blessing. Laura Lee embraces Lottie for who she is, and that’s something not even Lott’s parents could do. 

And Lottie helps Laura Lee believe in God, despite the setting of the wilderness and the lack of societal barriers that Laura grew up with. Lottie upholds the divinity of a priest for Laura Lee, resulting in her throwing herself deeper into christianity instead of allowing herself to start doubting her faith again. Laura Lee and Lottie both build up off of each other: Laura shrouds herself in her faith like a shield or suit of armour because Lottie reinforces her beliefs; and Lottie begins to be more and more outspoken as Laura Lee brings her out of her shell, resulting in her eventual leadership. Laura is such a major part of Lottie’s ascent to the throne that it’s hard to talk about one without talking about the other. Their relationship isn’t crystal clear before the crash, but we know that they chose to sit close to each other (Lottie behind Laura) on the plane. When it began its descent, they reached out to each other for support, gripping one another’s hand. They may not have been best friends ever before the crash, but there's an undeniable sense of familiarity between the two of them. They’ve definitely known each other a while, with being on the same sports team. And they seem to like each other’s company too, especially since we know that Laura Lee and Van were meant to be best friends in the pilot, and still Laura chose to sit with Lottie. 

In episode 6 ‘Saints’, Laura Lee takes it upon herself to baptize Lottie in the lake. There's a lot of symbo- lism in this scene, specifically in Lottie’s vision where she is transported to a basement where she sees a male deer. The stag can represent many things here, but on the surface, the stag can simply symbolize the spiritual cleanse (baptism). But, in christianity, a stag represents Christ's crucifixion as well as a spiritual guide. So, Lottie follows the stag into a passageway in the basement, and there’s several candles burning. She lights one of the unlit candles. In terms of religious symbolism, the candlelight often represents the light of christ. Because of this scene, i think that While underwater, Lottie opens her eyes back up only to see Laura Lee’s face above, with a halo around her head akin to the ones seen around saint’s heads in religious paintings. Due to the similarly named episode, the symbolism of Laura Lee being like a saint is highlighted, and this could absolutely allude to Laura Lee’s tragic end, much like the saints of catholicism. This scene is so impactful to me because it creates such a strong impression on the viewer. We see two characters who are shown to be mentally ill feeding into each other's delusions, while simultaneously building up their characters and setting up Lottie’s character arc as the leader. We can see the way that the story is going, especially with the knowledge that everyone will devolve into cannibal cultists hunting each other for survival from the pilot episode. 

[takimakiiiii]

i love you but not as much as i love me

summary: after waiting for lando countless times you finally realise that you deserve more than that.

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

tw: heartbreak, self doubt

a/n: i have absolutely no idea where this came from but it’s kinda bad so bear with me and it’s 12:30am rn and i have a maths test tmr so spare me okay 😭

themes: angst, heartbreak, BADASS Y/N HELL YEAHHHH

word count: like 300 words?

—————————————————————————

The restaurant noises seemed to distort the longer you sat and waited. Thoughts circled through your mind as each minute ticked by slowly but surely. 

“I promise I’ll be on time.” Lando’s words lay heavy on your chest as you sat alone at a table. 

Liar. 

You should have known he wouldn’t come. But you chose to give Lando the benefit of the doubt and look how that ended. Sitting alone with a glass of wine in your hand, you could feel the stares of the people around you. Their pity for you radiating in your direction as you wallowed in silence. 

You nearly laughed out loud at the sheer irony of it all. You thought he would actually come, how pathetic. You already knew the script off by heart. You’d get home, he’d get home, you fight and everyone goes to sleep either mad or sad. Too many times had this occurred and you couldn’t help but blame yourself. Blame yourself for trying too hard, putting in too much effort when you knew it would be the same outcome each time. Work would always be Lando’s first priority, it came before everything, his health, his family and above all, you. 

You couldn’t even count how many times you’d been left waiting alone in a restaurant embarrassed. Peoples stares would linger far too long to be just friendly. Monaco was a small place so there was no way around all the whispers and exchanges of gossip that would occur. Especially surrounding Lando and your relationship. 

The wine tasted bitter in your mouth as you finished the glass. Your eyes flickered up to the clock that hung on the wall, the time reading 9:43pm. 

With a heavy sigh you decided it was time to leave. You payed for your glass and stepped out of the restaurant, the sky already swallowed in darkness. You swallowed, holding back tears as you slowly made your way toward your car. The street lights seemed to buzz tauntingly above your head as your heels clicked against the pavement. 

“Y/N!” an all too recognisable voice called down the street. Your head shot up as your eyes fell on Lando who jogged toward you. You payed no attention to the tears that threatened to fall as you stopped in your tracks. 

Lando finally caught up to you, out of breath. Still in his papaya shirt he looked like a fool next to you. You who had gotten ready for tonight only for it to end like the countless times before. You stared at him unimpressed as you held a steady face. You absolutely refused to let him see how much it affected you.

“What happen to ‘I’ll be on time this time,’ hmm?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest defensively. 

“Look, I got caught up-“

“You’ve already used that before.” you interrupted. Lando frowned, pausing under your stare. 

“What?”

You let out a scoff, anger pulsating through your chest as you tried to remain calm. He looked absolutely clueless.

“You’ve already used that excuse, Lando. Come up with a new one and impress me.” sarcasm seeped off your words. He stared at you is disbelief, words failing to leave his lips. 

“Have you run out? Is that it? Surely you can think of at least one.” you pressed until anger ticked through his eyes. 

“Don’t do this right now, Y/N. I thought you’d be able to understand that work is just too important right now for . . . this.” he gestured to nothing but the space in between you both. You raised your eyebrows, throat beginning to ache from holding back tears. “So you want to break up?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” he gritted, running his hand through his hair, frustration thick in his voice. You scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh. 

“What do you mean then?” you asked. “Because right now there is absolutely nothing keeping me from staying. I love you, Lando and I really thought you would see that seeing how many times I’ve waited for you to show up and you haven’t. Your life is work and I get that, I really do but have you ever thought to think how that affects me? That maybe I don’t want to be constantly pushed aside and dismissed as a priority? You can work day and night and everything in between but what about me? Why am I the only one trying to keep this together?”

“That’s untrue, Y/N. I do try, everything I ever do is for us and our future together.”

“Don’t say that. Everything you do is for yourself, Lando.” 

“What do you want me to do then? I should just call up Zak and say ‘sorry boyfriend duties!’ and hang up?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Lando and you know it.” your heart felt like it was failing inside of your chest as he stood before you.

“Please, enlighten me then. If you can’t understand that work is my priority right now then maybe we shouldn’t be together.” 

His words lay heavy in the silence that followed. You stood before him, that guy who had loved you just as much as you’d loved him was long gone now. 

“God I hate you.” you whispered, biting back a sob. His gaze softened as he watched you rub away tears. Regret washed over him like a tidal wave but as it turns out that wouldn’t be enough to save him this time. 

“That’s not what I meant-“ he began to say

“I’m leaving.” you said in finality, the words seeming like a foreign language to you. Lando looked up in disbelief, “What?” 

You took a deep breath in, the thought in your mind resonating with you. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t deserve someone who wouldn’t give you their time or at least to even try to. You loved yourself far too much to let yourself be treated like that. He didn’t deserve your love or respect, he’d made that clear every single time he didn’t show up. Exhaling slowly you continued, “You’re absolutely right. I won’t ever understand how work can be a priority over your own relationship, so good luck finding someone who will because it most certainly won’t be me.” 

Lando was at lost for words as he stood and stared at you. Silence lay thick in the air as you waited once again for him. “Yeah,” you breathed, “That’s what I thought.” 

And as you walked off into the night your mind and heart finally felt free. 

a/n: well i hope you enjoyeddd and a reminder that you should never doubt yourself and that your health and wellbeing comes first! love yourself first <333 stay safe and have a good day!

[andy-wm]

Jibooty Appreciation Society

I might be writing this but I'm not the main character here

I'm still living for the moment in AYS when Jimin said his butt was unbelievable, and now it's just believable.

He's honestly hilarious. And his butt is still unbelievable in my books.

I know I'm in a long queue of people admiring Jibooty. We all love it.

Its a national treasure.

But the person at the front of the line is our favourite muscle bunny.

He's been admiring that work of art up close for a long, long time.

In fact if you asked him about his Roman Empire...

I'm pretty sure he'd say its the cake he gets for his birthday every year.

Jibooty is a snack, and this boy is permanently starving

Yes, JK is the real expert on jibooty, and if anyone ever doubted his personal experience with that Delicious Derriere™ he makes it very clear in this episode of Run.

He's not relying on an imagined scenario, he's SEEN this and he KNOWS he's right. But he doesn't direct his comment to the whole group, he tells Jimin to go home and look in the mirror because it's Jimin's ass he's seen in this exact situation.

Proof once again of the authenticity of their relationship. Nobody in their right mind would script this.... but I digress.

Who can blame our golden boy for grabbing that perky handful every chance he gets.

Doing so in public is such a flex, too. Because it's one thing to be rubbing it like a magic lamp in the privacy of your own home. It's a different thing entirely when you squeeze it and smack it on a stage in front of 60 000 people.

And Jimin used to swat him away but these days, the way Jimin doesn't even break stride, you know JK probably walks around the house with one hand fastened to Jimin's ass like it's his personal fidget toy

... like its his happy place

... like its his emotional support

... like its his.

It's not that i think about jibooty an unhealthy amount, its just that it's so buoyant that it rises to the top of my mind all the time... like a big, round, delectable bubble of happiness.

And i find myself imagining the joy it must bring to all involved. And i find myself smiling about that.

Ah, yes, the simple happiness of a perfect bottom... and his magnificent peachy butt.

Sigh...

I would send one of these to Jimin if it wasn't so utterly WRONG in every respect...

Obviously the biggest problem with this, is he would NEVER wear something from Temu 🤣🤣

I jest. I'd never do any such thing

💛🍑🕺🏻👀💜

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤshield ! reader ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤpart two !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤULTIMATE REVENGE.

summary memories are reawakened with the arrival of soldier boy into your life again, but his presence is not the only new thing slipping its way through the cracksㅤㅤㅤwarnings feminine rage, light discussions of trauma, violence against men HAHAHA, me trying to mimic butcher's accent ( embarrassing edition )ㅤㅤㅤword count 2.1k

ㅤㅤㅤ"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ANGRY WITH ME?" it was a ridiculous question to be asked, considering all that happened, but you'd let him talk. how deep of a hole could one man dig himself into?

you don’t dignify him with any answer. of course you were angry. it had been festering since you were created, switched between homes like a rejected foster child that no one really wanted, but got stuck with. it was bad enough knowing that the entirety of your long existence would be spent being a pest to the ones stuck with you; they did not need to find ways to torment you.

you shove the closet door open with your shoulder, having waited in the closet until soldier boy vanished. he didn’t deserve any of your attention, and didn’t deserve any indication that you knew him. that was another irritant to your fury.

“i told you to stay in your space.” it’s the only defense that the legend has, so he milks it, stresses the points of it as if that can deter your frustrations. “i told you that this is the risk i was keeping you from, dammit—”

the legend doesn’t have to get it, and so he never will. still, you can’t help but feel the need to try. “you knew it was a risk,” you say it slower, as if that will make it click in his rotten head, “and you did not tell me. you knew that soldier boy was alive, and could come back, and kept it.”

“look at how you’re reacting!” his hand shoots up toward you, hovering in the expansive closet’s entrance. “you decked him. you crushed his nutsack—”

“not. enough.”

“plenty enough, indy.” your name is always a weapon in men’s mouths. no one ever looked at you and thought you were something worth whispering or promising. you were a gun, your words the bullets, the safety always off. and nobody wanted a girl in a constant state of misfire. “i get what you’re going through, and what is going on inside of your head—”

“you do not.”

his lips thin in his frustration. “are you going to let me finish a single fuckin’ sentence today, indy, or are we going to argue around each other because you don’t listen?”

your jaw clenches tightly, teeth grinding together. “you do not get anything that is in my head. you are just an old man minus a leg.”

“you are old too,” he shoots back at you, wagging his finger in your face. you shove his hand away with a scoff. “just because little miss indestructible doesn’t physically age doesn’t mean she hasn’t been here as long as i have. so you should know better than to act like an insolent child.”

it’s so easy for a man to flip the script on you and blame you. you were not asked for permission before you were created. you were not ever treated kindly in the tests you endured after it. you were shaped and molded into something as strong as you’d been as a manmade shield, and then punished for what evolved from that.

“i would know better if i was not locked away.”

somehow, his thin lips press together tighter. you’ve got him. you always get him on that point, and still, the legend doesn’t ever listen to you. it was so useless to have a voice when it did nothing for you.

the bell to his door rings, and your head snaps in that direction. you can see the front door now, from where you stand — considering the fact you’d broken down the hinges to that side of the penthouse, and soldier boy had dismantled your door.

multiple shadows stand on the other side. you see their outlines, big and broad, through the glass walls surrounding the doorway. your eyes narrow. “soldier boy has brought guests.”

“i hardly doubt he will come back.” the legend steps around you, back into the living room, with a glance over his shoulder. “i’d highly suggest sitting this one out.”

“you cannot keep me away anymore today.” you stalk after him, following him again through the broken mess of doors scattered around his living space. “the door is ruined. you have to let me see.”

“i don't have to do a thing.”

he never listens to you. you’ve been stuck with him for forty years and he does not listen. he’s the cruelest sort of captor, controlling everything of your life down to the rooms you’re allowed to take up space in.

you shove past the legend, grabbing the doorknob before he can, tugging the locked, heavy door open with an agitated growl. “go away. you are not wanted here.”

the man in the center on the other side raises his eyebrows. “sassy lass, ain’t ya?” he has an accent, just like you, except his is much more pronounced and nothing like how yours sounds. “i didn’t know the legend kept around girls that can beat him in a tongue lashin’.”

sickening how every single man you’d had the displeasure of meeting assumed you were one of the legend’s playthings. this was the consequence of his containment. you faced the scrutiny of his choices.

you dash forward, grabbing the gun he had poorly concealed at his hip. you release the safety and step back before any of his crew can process the barrel of the pistol pressed against the center of his chest. “mind your mouth.”

his hands raise in mock surrender. “alright, love. i don’t think we should be playing with things we don’t know how to—”

you’d known how to shoot a gun since you learned how to grip. you cock a bullet into the chamber and point it backwards, pulling the trigger at the two feet distance between the legend’s cane and your own feet.

the tall, lankier man in the back of the group shudders out an, “oh my god.” the one next to their assumed leader grimaces at the ringing echo of the bullet. behind you, the legend is seething, hissed curses falling out of his spluttering mouth.

you press the warm barrel to the man’s chest again. “tell me i am too stupid to work a gun again.”

the corner of his mouth tilts higher. “my apologies, lass,” he says, raising his eyes from your face to behind you. “might i speak to the man of the hour?”

“he has nothing worthy to say,” you say, finally dropping the hand holding the gun to your side, “not unless you like idiocracy and long-winded tall tales.”

the man shrugs. "i'm afraid that's all this lot has got to offer, anyways, yeah?"

you don't give the gun back. you untuck your shirt from your pants and stuff it in the waistband, offering a smile to the group of men waiting outside. "i can tell," you hum, turning on your heel, walking back the way you came from.

the basketball game is still on, but it's wrapping up — as far as you can tell, anyways, through the giant black hole in the center of the screen. you weren't in any sort of mood to get in another argument about the channel after what you'd gone through, so you drop down onto the couch again with only a huff of protest.

expectedly, the men follow afterwards. expectedly, the legend is apologizing on your behalf to men that don't deserve it, using words you'd never use. she's really sorry. no you weren't. she's always been crueler than the other of vought's creations. the familiar sentence, still stings all the same.

"she's a supe, then?" the lanky one asks, like you aren't even there. he catches your eye when you turn to glare holes into his temple, and his face flushes a little. "you're a supe?"

your face twists up. "i hate soup."

"oh." he nods a couple of times, clearing his throat in the process. "well. that answers... nothing."

the irritable, disgusted scowl becomes one more laced with anger. "i am not one of the heroes." the legend's reaction is proof enough to an unanswered question you had. that, no, before soldier boy's departure, he did not inform the hero of who you really were, and he was dancing around it now. you'll spare him from the science lesson. "i was created in laboratory. by the vought man." he's never been doctor frederick vought to you, because he never acted as a doctor, only an enforcer. "a someone out of something."

the lankier of the men blinks his surprise, somehow not deterred even with the look you gave him before. "created how?"

no one has ever addressed you in these conversations. usually legend apologizes for you, and they talk about you like you don't exist, and you are expected to stand down even when the order is not enforced. a long silence passes before you speak, unwilling to answer if he was not genuinely asking. but his eyes don't stray from you, and so you nod slowly in acceptance.

"you know of soldier boy?" his name is poison in your mouth, the only thing that has ever hurt you. "the great american hero with a shield?" there is no point of you explaining the world's first hero to these people. they probably know more about him than you ever would. "i am the shield."

the original man, the one with a smirk permanently plastered across his face, turns to you, then, abandoning whatever plans he'd come with. "bullshit."

"you are bullshit." you don't need any of them to believe you. trying to convince others of what you knew to be true was pointless. you slump backwards against the couch again, your eyes zeroing in on the shattered television screen.

it's the lanky one that comes to sit next to you. the legend doesn't even sit as close to you as he does, and he'd lived with you for forty years. "vought does some crazy shit." his shoulders lift in a shrug, letting out a little hum. "doesn't seem so off base that they turn a shield into a girl."

"the shield is with him," you clarify, finding it hard to actually meet his eyes whenever he's watching you with more understanding than anyone had bothered to offer. he wears the same curiosity that you saw in soldier boy's, which simply wouldn't do. "it is just useless now."

"does he know?" the original man, his rugged voice giving way to its own sort of morbid curiosity. there are too many men around you, and not enough space for you to feel safe and secure.

you shake your head, shooting a pointed look at the legend, balking on the other side of the room. "he did not tell him."

"ben is not going to be doing anything with that shield to warrant knowing its truth—"

frustration pours out of every orifice of your body. "soldier boy is a ticking bomb." he has always been volatile. a man cannot change simply because the man was locked away for decades. from what you saw of him, there wasn't any ounce of growth from him at all.

"she's right." the man sitting beside you turns to look back at the legend, and for once, you feel seen. someone else sees the hypocrisy of the man you were stuck with and is not afraid to reflect it back at him. maybe the legend would listen this time, now that a man was telling all of his sins to the choir. "he's a ticking time bomb."

"don't start, hughie," the rugged brit says, his voice nothing more than a growl.

"no, she's right." he gives butcher a long, hard look before he shakes his head, glancing sidelong at legend. "you know what we're planning to do. you know that we're trying to use him for it. and you sent him into the world to die."

the confirmation makes your stomach feel leaden. you should not care at all about what that means. you shouldn't care that soldier boy could die. and you don't. it's just—

"and what do you want me to do about that now, huh?"

the room is quiet, the only sound being the distorted audio coming from the broken television. you know where this is going. you sense it in the way that the man that isn't hughie stares at you, piecing together everything that the options laid out for them offered.

hope was a bitter thing in your mouth. this could be your sole chance of freedom, finally getting to see a breath of the world you'd spent your entire life locked away from. it just came with the added downside of—

"hand over soldier boy's shield," the man finally says, his eyes never leaving yours, "promise with every inch of my wee heart we'll take good care of 'er."

notes. indy beat up all men ever era !!! billy butcher EAT UR HEART OUT. just a heads up that this !reader has a structured timeline vs baby & lore not <3 u can still send asks abt her if u wanna but in my head this lil lady is all plotted for ... i dont wanna say it in case i abandon it midway ... so just know there's a proper number of parts oKAYYY thank u 4 reading love u bye

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz @mahi-wayy

[clairewritesfanfics]

System cheats are OP

possible spoilers for the comic book, but definitely spoilers for Frieren Episode 8 and Umineko manga (I forgot which chapter.)

trigger warning: mild gore

Scene: Thragg kidnaps veteran VCS!Reader. His daughter decides to take revenge on Mark by killing you and secretly enters your prison cell. 

You were playing Gin Rummy with the system when it informed you of an unwanted visitor approaching.

It saved the progress of your game and put away the light screen just as the vacuum sealed door in your cell unlocked and slid open.

One leg over the other, you folded your hands neatly on top of your knee. “From what I heard, only the Grand Regent is allowed to visit me.”

Her face was stoic as she stood before you. “I am Ursaal, daughter of Thragg.”

“I’m–”

“I know who you are. You are the mate of Mark Grayson.”

You didn’t know how to feel about your fame tied to being someone else’s lover, but oh well.

Her chilly stare never faltered as she spoke, “That man murdered my kin and attempted to dethrone my father.”

You stared back at her. You doubt that saying “my condolences” would be appropriate.

“Father believes that your life will make for a good bargaining chip, but I disagree. I will kill you right here and now and deliver your corpse to Mark Grayson myself.”

“I see.” You uncrossed your legs. “I should warn you, I'm strong.”

She scoffed. “Stronger than me?”

You glanced at your nails. They've gotten too long. “Stronger than even Thragg.”

Ursaal was a fast thing, as are all Viltrumites. However, even their kind can't outpace the system.

Time froze just as she crouched to strike. 

[Ding. Cheat item: Author Authority Lite is on standby.]

A laptop manifested in front of you, staying still in the air as if perched on top of an invisible desk. A word document was open, detailing the events that have led to this very moment.

“I'm not good at writing action scenes, so how about this…” Only the sound of your typing echoed in the cells. 

“This should do the trick.”

You hit ENTER.

[Ding. Script accepted. Author’s Authority Lite will take effect in 3, 2, 1–]

You were playing Gin Rummy with the system when it informed you of an unwanted visitor approaching.

It saved the progress of your game and put away the light screen just as the vacuum sealed door in your cell unlocked and slid open.

You folded your hands over your knee. “Ursaal, was it? I’m guessing you’re here to kill me.”

“That is correct.”

You hummed. “You’re going to have a hard time, though.”

Blood gushed out of her thighs and arms. 

You walked over and pushed a finger to her chest, making her fall backwards. 

The blood then stopped and her wounds closed. 

“This is perfect. I’ve been meaning to get my hands on a Viltrumite test subject.” You retrieved the cheat store dissection kit from your inventory.

She gritted her teeth. “My father will know, he will–”

“Shh.” You gagged her mouth with an unbreakable bandage. “You don’t mind, do you? You’re the one who approached me, so you have no one to blame but yourself.”

 

Author's Note: To clarify, this is not going to be part of the actual VCS series, this is just a goof that I've had in my mind for a while. I was never going to publish it but dammit @weponxwrites look at what you made me do. 😤

[dontbelasagne]

desperately need to do a presentation on why the Twelfth Doctors journey perfectly represents the transfem experience

their previous eleventh incarnation being suave and hypersexual (i know moffat is mostly to blame but!) is reminiscent of attempts to fit into heteronormative ideals of masculinity. whilst it is not completely insincere, there are obvious signs this does not fit you as a person, it is acted out of desperate need to being seen. as Vastra put it, eleven wore that face, and subsequently that form of masculinity, to be accepted. on becoming twelve, realising even an "idealised" masculinity does not inherently serve them, they retreated into themselves as a person for self-reflection and trying to understand why they feel so detached from who they are.

the "am i a good man" arc mirrors being closeted and having to present as something not inherently tied to your sense of self, but still wanting to be the best of your perceived gender as any failure could leave you spiralling into self-doubt about simply being like any other "man". you ignore your gender dysphoria/questioning by trying to claim a moralistic view of gendered expression. made even more clear by Twelve rejecting Clara's heroic view of them, establishing that even though they have made efforts to be a "good man", that is just a placeholder for their loss of identity.

Missy appearing as she does, who as a character serves as a parallel to The Doctor on what they could become, and her eventual arc in trying to become good is symbolic of the fear around transition regret that internalised transphobia can create when you are closeted. Missy never gives importance to their fem existence other than nonchalant jokes, rather showing a more free and expressive personality devoid of any frustration. this immediately dismisses the transphobic assumption that trans people are only focused on their gender. also, Missy representing trans femininity is inherently tied to chaos and upsetting the status quo, she is the embodiment of what society considers accepting your womanhood as someone previously labelled masculine. what many others, and The Doctor themselves, saw as a need for attention and senseless disruption is Missy not needing to serve a false version of who they are, that they can now focus on becoming whoever they want to be now without losing energy to performing a gender that society has imposed on you. Missy could never have made the decision to stand with The Doctor if she had not given importance to her own queerness.

it wasn't coincidence with meeting Bill, she was the perfect foil for The Doctor to finally let go of their anxious attachment to masculinity. i would even argue for the majority of s10, The Doctor is largely ambiguous in their gender identity and does not fit into any construction of masculinity or femininity. whilst they still present as something socially labelled as masculine, they do not internalise that gender expression. they are uncaring about and not needing the validity that comes with heteronormativity, and thus is free to finally accept the decision they have to make. as Bill says, it is so hard to let go of The Doctor, and that rings true for twelve themselves. but they begin to realise The Doctor can be anyone. yes, they are tired, it would be so easy to simply rest and not give value to who you can become. but choosing to let go of everything you once were to survive is better than oblivion. it is better to let go, to choose another lifetime where the only person that dies is your falsity, to finally get it right and choose kindness. for yourself and for those who you love. they regenerate, not just into another person, but into someone who (if only tv scripts...) can now move forward.

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part three//t.c.

“Are you all ready for the Palm Springs Awards tonight?” you asked Timmy when you arrived at work, his house, the next day.

“Yeah, I guess.” he said. He looked tired, he rubbed his eyes with his hands, “I think I will take your speech with me. It will be a good script to ground myself with when I accept the award.”

“Alright. So I guess it’s good enough for you to use if you win the Golden Globe, and then we can work on a new variation for the Oscars.”

“Yes, yes, but I doubt I will need it. Those awards always favor older actors. Not that I can blame them, I am not as experienced.”

“Timmy you should be proud of your work. The awards are just a bonus for some people. It’s not a necessity to know you’ve done a great job.”

“I am proud.” he smiled then shrugged, “Maybe one day I will stop caring so much about the awards. You’re a great writer by the way. I think I’ll have you do all of my speeches with me from now on.” he grinned softly at you.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad to help, boss.” you set your purse down on the counter, "Emails today?"

You heard his phone buzz, he looked at it, then answered you, "Yeah, it'll be a short day for you today. I'll be leaving this afternoon for the ceremony."

"Okay, um, do you need me to do anything for tonight? I could come with you, if need be."

He shook his head, "No, no, I don't think that will be necessary."

You nodded as he answered a text on his phone, "Is she going?"

"Who?" he responded without looking up, totally aloof.

You sighed, "Timmy, I'm not a reporter, you don't have to play dumb with me. You know who I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I think she is going." he grumbled.

"So, should I expect a drunken phone call at two in the morning this time?" you quipped.

He looked up, stared at you, like he was trying to communicate something, even if he didn't know what it was. "I've got a phone call." he said plainly, avoiding answering, before turning away and going into the other room.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling to him, but really to yourself, "I guess I will take that as a yes. Your phone wasn't even ringing."

..........

The workday went smoothly, but the closer it got to your early dismissal, the more Timmy become agitated. He grew grumpier throughout the day, not necessarily at you, just in general. You began to wonder if he was getting enough sleep, or maybe it was just stress, or maybe it was Miss Jenner.

"Are you sure you're okay? For tonight, I mean?" you were concerned about him on a personal level, but couldn't let it show too much, so you sheathed it with the mention of the awards ceremony.

“Yeah,” he spoke softly, walking you out of his home, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

It seemed to be a new routine for him to escort you out at the end of the work day. It was growing on you. It made you feel cared for.

“Okay, well, good luck. You’ll do great. I’ll see you tomorrow.” For some reason, you felt the urge to kiss him on the cheek, like returning the favor from the day before. But you held back, yeah it’s a good idea to hold back.

"Thank you. See you tomorrow." he gave you that signature Timmy grin.

As you headed home, you could not get the image of his face out of your mind. You didn't care for the mustache and short hair combination at first, but the look had really grown on you recently. His hair had become looser and tousled on top, and he had grown a goatee to go with the mustache, which you think brought the facial hair look together nicely. It began to suit him in a mature way, and there was something really cute and sweet about it.

But, you knew that you could not think of him like that for too long. He was your boss, and he belonged to someone else.

That evening, you wondered if you would hear from Timmy after the awards were over. You hoped that you wouldn't, and that he would be okay. Maybe he wouldn't drink, or maybe he would just have a couple and then go home. Maybe he wouldn't need you.

However, your phone rang in the middle of the night, waking you up. You peeled your eyelids open with a groan, grabbing your phone and seeing the time, 1:47 A.M. Sure enough, it was your boss calling.

Your cleared your throat as best and as quickly as you could, hitting the green answer button, "Yes, Timmy?"

"Hey, open your door would ya?"

"What?" you sat up instinctually, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Can you open your door?" he asked louder, with more emphasis on each word.

"Okay! Jeez, sorry. I'm coming." you threw your covers off, scooted your feet across the floor to find your slippers. "I was asleep you know." you sassed into the phone at him.

"Oh, shit. I guess it's late isn't it?" you could just picture him squinting at his phone, seeing what time it was.

"Try 'early,' goodbye." you said, ending the call and scampering out of your bedroom.

.........

You opened the front door of your apartment, and there he was, waiting.

"Timmy. What are you doing here?"

"Just stopping by." he shrugged nonchalantly.

"How did you know where I lived?"

"Your job application." he said in an obvious tone.

You blinked in disbelief, “I gave that to you more than a year ago."

"Yeah, well, I have my assistant's address memorized, okay? You never know when I might need you." he insisted.

You sighed, "I guess. Please tell me you didn't drive here." You leaned outside, peeking around to see if his car was there.

"No, I took an Uber from the event." he placed his hand on the door frame next to you.

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you go home with Kylie? Or just go to your place?” you asked.

He frowned, looking down at the ground, he shook his head at your interrogation. “I don’t know.” he looked up at you, standing straight up, he took a step forward.

The close proximity between you and him felt dangerous.

He was a bit taller than you, so he leaned down close, and softly, he said, “Why can’t I stay away from you?”

You felt weak, like you could fall right to the floor. But if you did, you didn’t know if Timmy was stable enough to help you back up.

Luckily, you didn’t have to respond in any way, because he said, “Do you have a couch or something I can crash on?”

January 10, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[daybreakrising]

It's like a pulse beneath his skin – the itch that seeing that face summons. He knows the risk of being here, of getting close to this ghost of his past, especially without Kafka nearby to quell the mara that sits, ever present, in the shadows of his mind. Yet he must be here. It is part of his script.

"You can relax." He utters, knowing relax is the last thing Dan Heng will do in his presence. "I am not here to fight you." This time. "I… need your help."

He suspects he will not be believed – and no wonder, really. He cannot blame the man for that. He half expects that spear to be thrust towards him at any moment, an initiation of a dance they have danced many times before. "I need to reunite with the other Stellaron Hunters, but… circumstances make it difficult to do so upon my own power." He knew he'd be here. It was written into the script, just as his circumstances were. "Can you help?"

H.SR STARTER CALL // @daybreakrising

"I thought we were clear on matters..."

There's a tenson to Dan Heng's posture that threads through his body, fingers curling more tightly around the spear he keeps close as the Stellaron Hunter emerges from the shadows. He had thought that the events on the Luofu had been an end to their engagements, yet here, within the remoteness of the universe, he'd felt the presence, had needed to pause his data gathering to deal with the current situation.

"What do you want from me? There is nothing left that I can do to help ease your burden..."

[zekeyboy]

okay. here it is.

why john kramer (and lawrence gordon) are kind of classist

disclaimer: this contains some canon-based assumptions? nothing crazy. just know some of my points are “most likely this happened because this.”

this also contains bits from scripts. i really like gordon as a character i just like to pick apart guys with my brain

starting off strong with the fact that. most likely. lawrence gordon and john kramer were born into well-off families. that’s not to say they had the most perfect, 100% best lives, but i really doubt they struggled financially in a severe way. they both went to college for respectable degrees, and got respectable jobs where they feel that they are helping out society due to the goodwill of their own heart. the important thing to note is that they have most likely not experienced severe poverty or homelessness or living from check to check.

lawrence is very clearly over it when adam talks about how he does what he does because he needs to eat - and it’s no coincidence that adam was put opposite to lawrence in the game, because it was always lawrence’s game, and adam is someone that - despite the connection they gain - lawrence could feasibly bring himself to shoot and kill. he’s a ‘bottom feeder.’ he has no respectable job, he does shit they don’t approve of to survive. he’s the lowest rung of society and therefore it’s not a huge loss if he dies in that bathroom. not sure if that’s cohesive at all but it’s there in my mind.

in short: both lawrence and john (john’s the one who put him in lawrence’s game, after all) have very little respect for adam and his life solely because he’s on what they deem the bottom level of society. in poverty, committing illegal acts, and - ruining the lives of these better men.

when lawrence is crying near the end of the movie, he laments about having his “whole life in order” and wondering where it went wrong. he doesn’t come to the conclusion that the fact that he cheated on his wife is partially what made it all go south. he won’t even admit to it. and, yes, while the question of if he did actually physically cheat is up for debate - let’s be honest. that marriage was dying and it wasn’t allison’s fault.

if anything, at the very least, in that moment - lawrence feels that it’s adam and tapp’s fault for bringing all his dirty laundry to the top. it’s easy for him to pin the blame on them.

the most important piece of my argument is this part of the saw vii script, though. because it really hammers it in how the philosophy works. this is how john completely recruits lawrence.

the “underbelly of society has been indulged. they’ve begun to control the lives of the strong.”

the underbelly of society: addicts, sex workers. homeless people. impoverished people. a majority of the people who get trapped.

while you can come to me and say “john kramer traps rich guys too!” he does. that is true. but he also has a deleted trap where a homeless guy has to sift through shards of glass. trapped for being homeless is the most insensible thing i have heard of. he sucks.

the strong: important, respectable rich men like john and lawrence.

and that sentiment gets lawrence on board. he hears that and hes like “yeah these people deserve to be horrifically maimed.”

which is also what these tags said on my last post -

thank you to @a-dotrivenitupontop

the majority of the people behind john’s cause are these rich white men. amanda is an outlier - mostly because she’s more like a trophy for john, in a way. that’s a whole other post though

i didnt organize my thoughts here at all. idk if this is coherent. i couldn’t tell you. i just woke up. thanks guys

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I interpreted the "adaptation from the manga" thing to imply that they'll animate the 3 Yuus (like you said) but my partner proposed smth to me that raised my concerns... what if they only animate Yuuka? or like- default to a female Yuu? I could see that bc it would be probably easier for them to have only one protagonist.

don't get me wrong I like Yuuka and I know a lot of TWST fans are women but since the studio involved is apparently known for shojos I'm scared they'll make it seem like the story is romantic/the game is an otome... Which I mean- we do have SOME fanservice stuff but it's definitely not a romance story. That's why I'm scared 😭 if they do go that path... I much rather prefer the disconnection (?) of having 3 different Yuus than the possibility of this...

Also I'm just 🥲 I'm scared ppl will see that and say ahhh So Yuu has always been a woman!! Because as a trans guy, one thing that rlly made me feel valid in a way was seeing that in the game Yuu has no gender at all... I don't go by they/them but I'd much rather be referred as that than to be misgendered. It's a small thing but it's such an important detail for me (the fact that Yuu is gender neutral/can be whatever u want them to be) that it being erased in the anime would make me pretty sad... even more if ppl take the anime as "confirmation" of Yuu's gender, which it wouldn't be regardless if they end up giving us a girl OR guy Yuu- it would just be another Yuu interpretation different from the game.

But yeah, personal stuff aside, I'm more scared by the possibility of them making it seem like it's a romance story 😭 or ppl calling TWST an otome... which I mean... some people already have that misconception, even some fans...

[Referencing this post and this news!]

I definitely think they're probably leaning towards a new Yuu every season; otherwise, there would be a very uneven distribution of screen time for one Yuu over the others, and that leads into the problem of one Yuu being "more" canon than the rest. Yes, it will probably be easier logistically speaking to keep the same Yuu for the entire anime--but I also said the same thing when we only had the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, and look what happened with that. We ended up getting Yuuka and Yuuta following Yuuken, regardless of the logistical inconvenience of it all. I think if the anime intended to have a singular Yuu to follow for the main story, they would have chosen to adapt the light novel (which has Yuuya across multiple volumes) instead of the manga. The conscious decision to adapt the manga (with changing Yuus) says something to me. So really, I don't think we have to worry about one "kind" of Yuu dominating the anime. I took a look at the portfolios of the two studios collaborating for the Twst anime and didn't see a ton of shoujo myself. There was definitely a handful of them, but overall there was a spread of genres. I think Yumeta Company (one of the studios) has Tokyo Mew Mew New under its belt, which is probably one of its better-known works and maybe that's where the "they're known for doing shoujo" allegations are coming from? Don't quote me on that, though. I'm not someone who closely follows anime studios.

I would, however, like to point out that we shouldn't put all our stock into the studios behind the anime. Yes, they are obviously animating the project and thus have an influence on how the final product is. However, there are tons of other people involved (like the script writer) that will dictate how the anime looks and feels. (In fact, the script writer for the Twst anime, Kato Yoichi, is not known for writing shoujo.) I highly doubt all the staff involved at every possible level of production are conspiring to make Twst a genre it's not. (Related: I blame socialization for this, but it's a little sad that most of us by default think one woman + a bunch of men in a cast must be romantic.)

Now, to your main point. I understand the initial fear of people misunderstanding Twst as a dating sim/otome from how it is presented. Really, I do. I also understand the frustration that comes with people claiming Yuu's identity or gender or what have you is "confirmed". But to that, I ask you: so what? And I don't mean that in a "your feelings aren't valid" way (because your feelings are very valid!) I mean in like... Do these misconceptions others have truly impact your own enjoyment? Do the people believing in these falsehoods erase what you know is the truth? I would wager it doesn't. There has been and always will be those who see Twst or interpret Yuu as something they are not. Lots of us (myself included) thought Twst was an otome game when they first heard of its concept. People claimed Yuuken was the definitive Yuu when the first chapter of the manga dropped. That's fandom, especially the larger they get. If we fixate on those sore spots, it will ultimately make us unhappy because there will never be an end to misunderstandings. I would advise that you try and detach from those worries and just focus on having your own fun in the fandom rather than worrying about how others are consuming or reacting to Twst. Yes, we want Twst, a franchise we've seriously been invested in and love, to be seen a certain way--but I don't think that should come at the cost of your enjoyment. Fandom is meant to be fun, and we don't want to make ourselves miserable by stressing over the "what ifs", you know? Please focus on yourself!!

[muiitoloko]

Unscripted Love

Summary: At a wedding, actors Alan and You pretend to be a couple, but a heartfelt confession transforms their charade into true love. In a moment of unscripted passion, they discover their feelings have always been real, leading to a new beginning.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: I absolutely loved this idea and had so much fun writing about it! Thank you for the inspiration. I hope everyone enjoys the story as much as I did! 😊

Request from @eccentricchick here.

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

Alan drummed his fingers on his thigh as he sat in the backseat of the car, his gaze drifting between the entrance of the film set and the conversation with his driver. He spoke softly, exchanging pleasantries and casual remarks, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. He always felt this way when he was about to see you—his heart seemed to beat a little faster, a warmth spreading through his chest.

"She's taking her time today," Alan mused, a hint of amusement in his baritone voice.

The driver, a seasoned professional who had driven Alan for years, chuckled softly. "Must be an important conversation, sir."

Alan nodded, his thoughts wandering back to you. He'd never told you how he felt, never confessed that he was in love with you. The fear of losing your friendship, the worry that you might not feel the same way, kept him silent. So, he settled for the role of "Best Friend," cherishing every moment he could spend with you, even if it meant hiding his true feelings.

Finally, you emerged from the set, your expression a mix of relief and mild frustration. Alan watched as you approached the car, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Just seeing you had this effect on him, making everything seem a little brighter.

You opened the car door and slipped inside, an apologetic smile on your face. "I'm so sorry for the delay, Alan. The director just wouldn't stop talking."

Alan shook his head, a reassuring smile on his face. "No need to apologize. Directors do tend to get carried away, don't they?"

You laughed softly, your tension easing as you greeted Alan's driver. "Hello, Tom. How have you been?"

Tom nodded politely, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "Very well, miss. Thank you. Ready to head off?"

You nodded, settling back into the seat. "Yes, please. Let's get out of here."

As the car pulled away from the set, you turned to Alan, a grateful smile on your face. "Thanks for waiting. I know it must have been boring just sitting here."

Alan shrugged, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Not at all. Tom and I were having a riveting discussion about the best places to get a proper cup of tea."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully. "I'm sure you were."

The conversation flowed easily between you as the car made its way through the city. You shared stories from your day, the ups and downs of filming, and Alan listened with rapt attention, interjecting with his clever and slightly sarcastic remarks that never failed to make you laugh.

"So, how's 'A Little Chaos' coming along?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Alan sighed, a mock-exasperated expression on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual chaos. I swear, directing is like herding cats sometimes. But it's coming together. I'm quite proud of it."

You smiled, your eyes shining with admiration. "I can't wait to see it. I'm sure it's going to be amazing."

Alan's heart swelled at your praise, though he kept his tone light. "Well, if it's terrible, you can always blame it on my questionable taste in scripts."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Somehow, I doubt that will be necessary."

The car ride continued, filled with easy conversation and shared laughter. Despite the chaos of your respective film sets, being in each other's company brought a sense of calm and comfort. Alan cherished these moments, even if he couldn't express how much you truly meant to him.

As the car continued its journey, your cell phone rang with a message notification. You picked it up absently, your attention shifting from the conversation with Alan to the screen. Alan glanced at your phone and casually remarked, "You know, I still haven't figured out how to use these new technologies at all. I'm convinced they're designed to make me feel old."

You smiled softly at his comment, but as your eyes scanned the message, your expression changed. Alan noticed the shift, his own smile faltering as concern crept into his eyes. "Is everything alright?" he asked gently.

Forcing a smile, you nodded. "Yes, it's fine." you replied, quickly putting your phone back in your bag.

Alan nodded, accepting your answer, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. You grew unusually quiet for the rest of the trip, your responses reduced to short, polite phrases. Alan refrained from pressing you, giving you the space you seemed to need.

A few minutes later, the car came to a stop in front of the restaurant. You both stepped out, and Alan led the way inside to the table he had reserved. As you settled into your seats, Alan began to fill the silence with stories from the set of "A Little Chaos."

"The garden scenes are coming along beautifully," he said, his voice warm with enthusiasm. "We had to deal with some unexpected rain, but I think it actually added to the authenticity. Nature's little gift, I suppose."

You nodded, your smile faint but polite. "That sounds wonderful, Alan. I can't wait to see it."

Alan continued, trying to engage you with his usual charm and wit. "You should have seen Stanley Tucci trying to keep his wig on in the wind. It was like watching a man wrestle with a particularly determined squirrel."

You chuckled softly, but the laughter didn't quite reach your eyes. Alan's concern deepened, though he kept his tone light. "I swear, the wig nearly took off and started a new life somewhere in the countryside. Stanley was ready to let it go."

You nodded again, your responses polite but lacking the usual spark. Alan could see that your mind was elsewhere, but he respected your need for space and continued to share anecdotes from the set, hoping to lift your spirits.

As the waiter came to take your order, Alan glanced at you, his eyes filled with quiet concern. "What do you feel like having tonight? Maybe something indulgent to cheer you up?"

You offered a small smile, your voice soft as you placed your order. "I think I'll just have the grilled salmon, please."

Alan nodded and placed his own order, then turned his attention back to you. "So, any exciting projects coming up?" he asked, trying to draw you out of your quietness.

You hesitated for a moment before replying, "Nothing too exciting. Just a few scripts I'm looking at. It's been a bit slow lately."

Alan nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was more to your mood than you were letting on. "Well, sometimes a bit of downtime is just what we need. Gives us a chance to recharge."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding but still unable to fully shake the weight that had settled over you since reading the message. The rest of the dinner passed in a similar fashion, with Alan sharing stories and making light-hearted jokes, while you did your best to engage, though your heart wasn't fully in it.

As dessert arrived, Alan reached across the table, his hand gently covering yours. "You know, I'm always here if you need to talk. About anything."

You looked up, meeting his eyes, and saw the genuine concern and care there. For a moment, you felt the urge to confide in him, to share the burden that was weighing you down. But you held back, not wanting to ruin the evening.

"Thank you, Alan," you said softly, squeezing his hand. "I appreciate it. Really."

Alan smiled warmly, his touch reassuring. "Anytime, love. Anytime."

The two of you continued eating your dessert in relative silence. Alan, sensing the need for a bit of mischief to lighten the mood, reached over and stole a piece of your dessert, a playful grin on his face. Normally, this would elicit a laugh or a playful smack on his hand, but tonight, you didn't react at all. Instead, you continued to poke at your dessert absentmindedly.

Alan's concern deepened. He set his own dessert aside, leaning forward with a serious expression. "Alright, love, enough of this. What's really going on? This isn't like you."

You sighed, still poking at your dessert, before replying softly, "It's nothing, Alan. Really."

But Alan wasn't having it. He reached out, gently placing a hand over yours. "Please, [Your Name]. Talk to me. Whatever it is, you don't have to carry it alone."

Your resolve crumbled under his earnest gaze, and you finally relented. "It's... it's Michael."

Alan's expression darkened at the mention of your ex-boyfriend's name. He'd never liked Michael, especially after discovering how the man had cheated on you. Alan had tolerated him for your sake, but his dislike was palpable. "What did he do now?" Alan asked, his voice laced with anger and concern.

You took a deep breath, pulling out your cell phone and showing him the message. "He texted me. He's getting married and... he's inviting me to the wedding."

Alan's eyes scanned the message, his jaw tightening with each word. "How does this idiot have the courage to do that?" he muttered, barely containing his anger.

"That's not the worst part," you said, your voice trembling. "The woman he's marrying... it's the same woman he cheated on me with."

Alan's grip on your hand tightened, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "That bastard," he growled. "He doesn't deserve a moment of your time or thought. How dare he?"

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I know. But it still hurts. I thought I was over it, but this... it just brought everything back."

Alan moved his chair closer to yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into a comforting embrace. "Listen to me, [Your Name]," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "You don't owe him anything. You deserve so much better than him and his pathetic attempts at validation."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth and comfort of his presence. "I know you're right, Alan. It's just... hard to see it that way right now."

Alan kissed the top of your head, his touch gentle and soothing. "Take your time, love. But remember, you have people who care about you, who want to see you happy. And I'm one of them."

You smiled through your tears, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thank you, Alan. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a serious yet gentle expression. "You'll never have to find out. I'm here for you, always."

As the waiter came to clear the table, Alan gave him a polite nod before turning his attention back to you. "Let's get out of here," he suggested. "How about we take a walk? Clear our heads a bit."

You nodded, appreciating the suggestion. "That sounds nice."

Alan settled the bill, and the two of you stepped out into the cool evening air. As you walked side by side, Alan kept a protective arm around you, his presence a comforting anchor in the midst of your emotional turmoil.

The city lights twinkled around you, the sounds of the bustling streets providing a soothing backdrop as you walked in silence for a while. Finally, Alan broke the silence, his tone lighter, trying to lift your spirits. "You know, if I ever meet this Michael fellow again, I might just have to give him a piece of my mind. Or perhaps a piece of my fist."

You chuckled softly, the image of Alan confronting Michael oddly comforting. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble on my account."

Alan smirked, a playful glint in his eye. "Oh, I wouldn't get into trouble. I'd just give him a very stern talking-to. Maybe with a few choice words from Shakespeare."

You laughed, feeling a bit of the weight lift from your shoulders. "I'd pay to see that."

Alan's expression softened as he looked at you, his eyes full of affection. However, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted some paparazzi lurking nearby. He quickly removed his arm from around you and put his hands in his pockets, not wanting to create any scandal in the media. You and Alan were already often mistaken for a couple, and you had previously commented on how frustrating you found it. Alan didn't want to feed the media's gossip any further.

The two of you continued walking side by side, the city lights casting a warm glow around you. The air was cool and refreshing, helping to clear your mind. After a few moments, Alan turned to you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You know," he began, his voice measured and calm, "I read in Michael's message that he said you could bring a date to the wedding."

You nodded, not entirely sure where he was going with this. "Yeah, he did. But I don't think I'd want to go alone anyway."

Alan's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he continued, "What if you... took me as your date? We could... pretend to be a couple, like in those cheesy movies. Show Michael that you're better off without him."

His words took you by surprise, and you stopped in your tracks, turning to face him. "Alan, I don't know if that would work," you said hesitantly. "It's not as simple as it sounds."

Alan paused, considering his words carefully before speaking again. "Think about it, [Your Name]. We're both actors. We've played a couple dozens of times. Pretending to be a couple at Michael's wedding will be like... stealing sweets from children."

You chuckled at his analogy but remained uncertain. "I get that, but what if it backfires? What if people see through it?"

Alan's expression was resolute as he looked into your eyes. "We'll be convincing. We've always had great chemistry on screen. Besides, this is a chance to show Michael what he lost. And more importantly... to remind you of your worth."

You took a deep breath, weighing the pros and cons of Alan's suggestion. It was true that you and Alan had always had a natural rapport, both on and off screen. Pretending to be a couple might not be as difficult as you feared. And having Alan by your side would undoubtedly make the experience more bearable.

"Alright," you said finally, a small smile playing on your lips. "Let's do it. Let's show Michael what he's missing."

Alan's face lit up with a genuine smile, his eyes twinkling with delight. "That's the spirit," he said warmly. "We'll make it a night to remember."

As you continued your walk, the weight of Michael's message seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of determination and excitement. With Alan by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, including your ex's wedding.

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation. You and Alan discussed your plan in detail, rehearsing your "couple" act to ensure it would be as convincing as possible. You coordinated your outfits, planned your arrival, and even rehearsed a few affectionate gestures and inside jokes to make your performance seamless.

On the day of the wedding, you felt a mix of nerves and excitement. Alan arrived at your apartment, looking dapper in a tailored suit that accentuated his distinguished features. He gave you an approving once-over as you stepped out in your elegant dress, his eyes filled with admiration.

"You look stunning," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of awe.

You blushed, feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment. "Thank you, Alan. You don't look too bad yourself."

He offered you his arm, a playful glint in his eyes. "Shall we, my dear?"

You nodded, slipping your arm through his as you both headed to the car. The drive to the wedding venue was filled with light-hearted banter, helping to ease your nerves. Alan's presence was a calming influence, and you felt more confident with each passing moment.

As you arrived at the venue, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the challenge ahead. Alan squeezed your hand reassuringly, his eyes filled with unwavering support.

"Remember," he said gently, "we're in this together. Just follow my lead, and everything will be fine."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unwavering support. "Thank you, Alan. I couldn't do this without you."

With a shared look of determination, you both stepped out of the car and made your way to the entrance. The moment you walked in, heads turned, and whispers filled the air. You could feel the curious gazes of the guests, but with Alan by your side, you felt a newfound confidence.

As you made your way through the crowd, you spotted Michael across the room, his expression one of shock and confusion as he saw you with Alan. You took a deep breath, your resolve strengthening. This was your moment to show him that you had moved on, that you were better off without him.

Alan leaned in, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. "Ready to make a grand entrance?"

You nodded, your heart pounding with anticipation. "Let's do this."

With Alan's arm securely around your waist, you approached Michael, your smile confident and poised. "Michael," you greeted him, your voice steady. "Congratulations on your wedding."

Michael's eyes lit up with a mixture of emotions, but he quickly composed himself, a polite smile forming on his lips. "Thank you, [Your Name]," he said, his voice carefully controlled. "I appreciate it. And Alan, it's good to see you."

Alan's expression was one of polite indifference, reminiscent of one of his on-screen villain roles. His intense gaze seemed to pierce through Michael as he greeted him with a curt nod, his arm remaining firmly around your waist. "Michael," Alan acknowledged, his tone cold and measured.

You could feel the tension between them, and you leaned into Alan for support, your heart racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Michael seemed a bit flustered by Alan's presence, his composure slipping slightly. "If you'll excuse me," Michael said, his voice a bit strained. "I need to greet the other guests."

Suppressing a laugh, you watched as Michael hurried away, clearly rattled by the encounter. Alan's grip on you tightened slightly, a subtle gesture of reassurance. "Well, that went better than expected," Alan murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

You smiled up at him, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thank you, Alan. I couldn't have done this without you."

Before Alan could respond, a group of wedding guests approached, their eyes wide with excitement as they recognized both you and Alan. Among them were several younger women who seemed particularly starstruck by Alan.

"Oh my gosh, it's Professor Snape!" one of them exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.

Alan chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Yes, well, I'm afraid Professor Snape isn't quite as charming as I am in real life," he said, his tone subtly self-deprecating.

The women giggled, clearly delighted by his response. "We loved you in Harry Potter," one of them gushed. "You're such an amazing actor!"

Alan gave them a gracious smile, his baritone voice warm and inviting. "Thank you, ladies. I'm glad you enjoyed the films. They were quite a remarkable experience."

As the fans continued to gush over Alan, you couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration for him. He was so effortlessly charming and kind, making each person feel special with his attention. It was no wonder you had a little crush on him; it was hard not to be captivated by his presence.

One of the women turned to you, her eyes shining with excitement. "And you're so lucky to work with him! What's it like?"

You smiled, glancing at Alan with affection. "It's incredible. Alan is not only a brilliant actor but also a wonderful friend. I'm very fortunate to have him in my life."

Alan's eyes softened at your words, and he gave you a gentle squeeze. "The feeling is mutual, [Your Name]."

The conversation continued with more fans approaching, eager to meet both of you. Alan handled the attention with his usual grace, making everyone feel at ease with his witty remarks and genuine interest. You couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he navigated the situation, his presence a calming influence amidst the excitement.

As the night wore on, you found yourself more and more drawn to Alan, his charm and kindness only deepening your feelings for him. The way he looked out for you, the way he supported you without hesitation—it all made you realize just how special he was to you.

Finally, when the wedding ceremony began and everyone took their seats, you and Alan settled in the back, observing the proceedings. The ambiance was serene, the air filled with the soft murmur of guests and the gentle strains of classical music. You found yourself stealing glances at Michael, your thoughts a mixture of lingering pain and newfound strength.

Alan, sensing your tension, gently took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His presence was a comforting anchor, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. Leaning closer, Alan whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin, "Do you remember that movie we made together where our characters got married at the end?"

You turned to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I remember," you replied softly. "You were quite charming in that tuxedo. Definitely sexy."

Alan's eyes twinkled with amusement as he looked at you, but your next words came out before you could stop them. "No wonder I missed the scene on purpose just to kiss you more times."

Realizing what you had just confessed, you froze, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Alan's expression shifted from amusement to something deeper, but before he could respond, the entrance of the bride saved you from further awkwardness.

Everyone stood, including you and Alan. As the bride made her way down the aisle, Alan leaned in once more, his voice a hushed murmur in your ear. "Did you really mess up that scene on purpose just to kiss me more times?"

Your heart raced as you quietly hissed back, "Be silent, Alan. The bride is entering."

Alan obeyed, but you could feel his amused gaze on you, the heat of his presence almost tangible. The ceremony continued, and you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the proceedings with Alan's question lingering in your mind. The truth was, you had indeed missed those scenes intentionally, unable to resist the allure of his kisses, the way his touch made your pulse quicken.

As the ceremony progressed, you felt Alan's hand gently squeeze yours again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture. It was a silent promise, a reminder that he was there for you, regardless of the complicated feelings now simmering between you.

As the judge performed the ceremony, his voice a solemn backdrop to the picturesque garden setting, Alan leaned in once more, his breath warm against your ear. "You didn't answer my question, [Your Name]."

You ignored him, your gaze sweeping across the beautiful garden where the wedding was taking place. The fragrant blooms and lush greenery created an almost ethereal atmosphere, but your mind was too preoccupied to fully appreciate it. The ceremony continued, the judge's words blending into the background as you tried to steady your racing heart.

"Do you, Michael, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?"

Michael's voice, firm and confident, cut through your thoughts. "I do."

Just then, you felt Alan's hand gently rest on your knee, a gesture so intimate and unexpected that you couldn't help but turn your attention to him. Your eyes met, and you were a little surprised to see how close your faces were to each other. Alan's hazel eyes, sometimes shifting from brown to green with the changing light, held you captive, their depths revealing an intensity that took your breath away.

"And do you, Jennifer, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?"

Jennifer's soft, clear voice responded, "I do."

But you could no longer focus on Michael's wedding. You only had eyes for Alan, mesmerized by his gaze. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way you hadn't fully acknowledged until now.

The judge continued reciting the ceremony, his words a distant murmur as Alan leaned closer, his voice a low, intimate whisper. "I've been in love with you for some time now, [Your Name]. And I would love to try something with you if you want to."

His confession caught you by surprise, and you felt your heart skip a beat. The ceremony, the guests, the entire world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that moment. Alan's words echoed in your mind, their sincerity and vulnerability leaving you speechless.

"In the presence of these witnesses, and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Applause erupted around you as Michael and Jennifer shared their first kiss as a married couple, but you barely registered it. Alan's eyes searched yours, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Alan," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I... I didn't know you felt that way."

Alan's hand tightened on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soothing gesture. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I was afraid of losing what we have. But seeing you here, so beautiful and strong, I couldn't keep it to myself any longer."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the depth of his feelings, feelings you had always hoped for but never dared to believe were reciprocated. "I... I feel the same way, Alan," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been in love with you too."

A slow, radiant smile spread across Alan's face, his eyes lighting up with a joy that mirrored your own. "Then let's not waste any more time," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Let's make this work. You and me."

Before you could respond, Alan leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, yet passionate kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away entirely, leaving only the warmth and tenderness of his embrace. His lips were soft and inviting, and you found yourself melting into the kiss, your hands coming up to rest against his chest.

The kiss deepened, filled with the promise of a new beginning, a future where you and Alan would no longer have to hide your feelings. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered emotion, and you knew that from this day forward, everything would change.

Unbeknownst to either of you, a fan in the crowd had discreetly taken out their phone and was filming the two of you, capturing the intimate moment as it unfolded. The camera caught the way Alan's hand gently cradled your face, the way your fingers tangled in his hair, and the undeniable connection between you.

As the kiss finally broke, leaving you both breathless and smiling, Alan rested his forehead against yours, his eyes filled with love and determination. "I love you, [Your Name]," he whispered, his voice a promise.

"I love you too, Alan," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

The fan, realizing they had captured something truly special, quickly put away their phone, eager to share the video with the world. Little did you and Alan know, your love story was about to become the talk of the town, a beautiful testament to the power of love and the magic of unexpected moments.