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lovelywritinglady · 1 year ago

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For our little writers' Art Trade...! Gyomei has no idea how much his small Fem!Reader lover enjoys seeing her beloved show his strength like he does during the Training Arc... Honestly, it's a HUGE turn-on to see him move a boulder with ease or stand in the middle of flames while balancing heavy weights over his back... Or see him hugging kitties. Sadly, Reader is weak and can only help train Demon Slayers by feeding them, much like Tengen's wives do. She is kinda motherly and that in return turns Gyomei on SO HARD. Where she is weak, he is strong, and vice versa. Maybe some smut? Maybe they sneak out to take out the NEED they lit in each other? I would be eternally thankful!

I shall do my best!!

Strength and Weakness

Gyomei Himejima x Fem!reader

In which you and your strong lover cannot contain the burning love for each other even in important times.

Fluff, SMUT, size kink, praise, outside sex, desperation sex, maybe out of character Gyomei.

It’s been nearly four weeks since the training with the Hashiras began. You had been working with your husband, Gyomei, to wip these young demon slayers into shape. However, most of them have yet to show true promise and the few who you think could are still training with the other Hashira. Knowing that the only reason that they are even going through such rigorous training is because of Muzan. The mere thought of Muzan would make anyone here shiver with either anticipation for a fight or pure fear.

Today marked the third day that this batch of young demon slayers were attempting to push the massive boulder that your husband had told them to move. It’s size was impressive to say the least but to your husband it was child’s play. He was strong and was considered the strongest Hashira around.

You could definitely attest to that as through out your relationship with the strong man, you had seen him push boulders nearly five times the one that he’s making these young demon slayers push, and for much longer. He was truly an impressive man and you knew that you had been blessed to have him as yours and only yours. However, it’s had been nearly four weeks since your husband last touched you.

Four weeks since you had felt his strong arms around your body in glorious passion. You were beginning to get antsy and it didn’t help when you saw his strong arms and ripped muscles flex as he pushed boulders or showed how to say his mantra at the waterfall training area. Your body flowed with desire for him and you could tell he felt the same. Seeing him being so soft and kind to the students ignited a fire within you. Not to mention the time he was absentmindedly holding a small black and white kitten while he was giving instructions. It didn’t feel fair but you knew that waiting was the right thing to do as you didn’t want any of the students to see the two of you in such a way.

Just as you were trying to think of anything else the very man in question passed by you pushing a boulder. His face calm as he chanted his mantra. While his muscles were in full display as the veins in his arms were bulging out. God you loved him. God how much you needed him. You were glad In that moment that he couldn’t see as the look you were giving him was simply sinful. Your body felt hot as your pussy ached with the absence of his cock. You needed him, your craved him and you knew it was only a matter of time before you were going to snap. You heard footsteps behind you and turned around to see one of the young demon and quite tired demon slayer students.

“Mrs. Himejima, I’m sorry to ask you this, but when do you think dinner will be ready?” One of the young demon slayers asked you with a strained voice as politely as he could manage.

“In about five minutes, tell the others for me will you?” You responded giving the poor tired boy a sweet smile as you did your best to push down the burning desire you had for your husband.

Meanwhile…

Gyomei had just wrapped up the waterfall demonstration as he noticed some of the young demon slayer students practically sprinting to the area that he knew his sweet wife was in. He decided to go there himself needing to hear your sweet voice after a long days of hearing the complaints of others. He sighed wiping the tears that had recently streamed down his face doing his best to look presentable to you. Soon, he had made it to you as a smile was present on his face.

To him, you were the very definition of perfection. Despite your physical weakness, you were kind. And to him, that was the greatest strength that anyone could have. He admired you for that and your kindness was one of the many reasons that he fell in love with you in the first place. He may not be able to see you but his soul knew that you were his and he was yours. And like you, he was getting very impatient for you. Hearing you day and day out being so sweet to these poor kids and how much you wanted to help him made him incredibly grateful and not to mention horny. He neeed you and he knew you needed him too. Now, he was probably the most patient man out there but when it came to you, it was though all reason and logic left him completely.

The thought of the way your smaller body sucked him in like it was meant to make him take a deep breath. His cock was beginning to grow and he tried his best to rid himself of such impure thoughts but hearing you now speaking so gently, so motherly, make him want to take you into the woods and make you the mother that he knew that you wanted to be. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Honey, would you like some too?” You asked suddenly as Gyomei had realized he was just standing here lost in the sinful thoughts of you.

“Yes my dear, thank you.” He responded after a few moments taking the massive plate of rice balls that you had made shivering slightly at the warm touch of your fingers brushing against his.

“You’re welcome! I made those just for you. I know you’ve been working really hard!” You beamed at him doing your best not to lose control at the mere sight of your husbands tall godlike stature in front of you. His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows as you had full view of his muscular arms still wet from the waterfall as his veins were in full view. You were doing your best but were practically drooling from just his arms. “Fuck.” You breathed out

“What was that, darling?” He asked putting one of his very large hands on your cheek, stroking it softly.

“N-nothing!” You chirped feeling slinky embarrassed for not keeping it together. “I hope you like them!” You quickly added

“I’m sure I will! If they are made by my sweet wife, then I know I’ll love them.” Gyomei spoke as pure adoration was lacing every word.

“Love?” You whispered

“Yes?” He asked bending down as he knew you needed to tell him something that only he needed to hear.

“I need you.” You whimpered finally admitting the thing you’ve needed to for four weeks now. “I know that we need to be professional but I can’t stand it anymore, I need you my husband. I need you. Please.” You added sounding so desperate so needy and who was Gyomei to deny you.

Without so much as a word, he set his plate gently down on a long and grabbed your hand as softly as he could and began walking into the woods a little too quickly. You began stumbling on your feet, barely tripping. Because of this, your husband quick as he could picked you up bridal style and now quicker than before, carried you far into the woods where he was positive that no one would wander. The very last thing he wanted was for someone’s innocent eyes to see what sinful acts he was about do upon his sweet wife.

Soon, he had found a suitable spot and had gently put you down on the soft grass. You hadn’t stopped looking at him the entire time as your mid was swimming with hundreds of scenarios that could happen in this very forest. Pussy was now soaking due to your excitement and impatience. Gyomei knew this as he could feel your wetness as he carried you earlier as his own make a sizable spot on his pants.

Gyomei then kneeled down and hovered over your smaller frame. He then without warning latched himself onto your neck. Kissing it roughly then softly allowing for you to fully grasp the sensation. And grasp you did as your whole body jerked with every kiss and every nip he was giving you. Your moans were loud and it was evident that he was doing well but could tell you needed more.

“Oh god, Gyomei please I need you.” You moaned out solidifying what he already knew.

“I know my love, I know.” He breathed out as he decided to start kissing down your chest more leaving a massive trail of love marks and kisses making your head spin as you grabbed a massive fistful of his spiky hair causing him to loudly grunt. He began sucking the skin on your hip making you buck up in response.

“Please!” You whined out needing more than this.

“Patience darling.” He whispered pressing kisses down your pussy causing your back to arch.

Without warning, he pushed your panties to the side and latched himself on your clit sucking it softly. His tongue began circling it making you moan your husbands name louder. Gyomei then proceeded to insert one of his large fingers into your needy hole and began pumping it in the way he knew you loved.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum soon.” You moaned out pushing his head down against you as you began impinge is face softly.

He hummed in response as he inserted another finger slightly picking up the pace as he began scissoring your hole so that you were ready for him. Gyomei was content in his work as being intimate with you like this made him feel so accomplished. Knowing the he was the one to make you feel this good make his cock ache in his pants even more than it already had. Feeling bold, he decided that it was best to insert one more of his thick fingers.

“Gyomei!” You screeched as your climax had finally reached it peak. Your juices flowing into your husbands mouth as he greedily drank then with pleasure. Your then squeezed his head from the overstimulation you were feeling. You moaned his name over and over again as your vision went blurry and body numb from your orgasm. When he finally finished his meal, he lifted his head and gave you a sweet smile, his face covered in your pleasure.

“You did well, love. Would you like to continue?” He asked making sure you were going to be okay taking him.

“Y-yes. I need you.” You whimpered coming down from your incredible high that only Gyomei could give you.

“Good.” He spoke as his voice suddenly got deeper.

“Would you like me to take care of you?” You asked sitting up slightly as you watched him take off his clothes.

“I just need to feel you as you are. I’m getting rather impatient now my love.” Gyomei said as he suddenly picked you up as he latched his lips hungrily onto your own. You wrapped your arms around his strong neck as your boobs pressed against his hard chest.

Your eyes widen at the ferocity of his kiss. His tongue mixing with yours without warning. A moan escaped from his throat and that very sound sent shivers or pleasure down your spine. His arms gripped your smaller body as one of his hand heals you against him as the other gripped your ass firmly. You were shaking from this needing more.

“Honey..” you whined out.

But as soon as your spoke, your husband took his hand off your ass and desperately undid his pants, freeing his hard and sensitive cock. He the, rather boldly, grabbed your panties and ripped them off of your body like he was picking a flower.

“G-gyomei.” You stuttered shocked at his eagerness.

“Just need you and they were in the way of you.” He grunted and you whimpered my his show of strength. “Are you ready, dear?” He added making sure to take time to make sure you were comfortable.

“Mhmmm.” You moaned out

“Use your words sweet one.” Gyomei calmly asked.

“Yes! Please fuck me!” You cried out desperately feeling more and more desperate the longer this gets drawn out.

“Good girl.” He whispered in your ear as he lined himself with your pussy.

You felt the thick tip of his cock beginning to push in. You were more than ready to take him, wet from your previous orgasm. However, your husband, was not a small man. Meaning his cock was huge and no matter how long you prepared yourself, it would always be a slight challenge to take him. You were a smaller woman after all.

The burning sensation as his cock entered you made you suck on your breath at the pain. You gripped onto his shoulders digging into his skin. He grunted softly feeling how tight your pussy was against him a small smile graced his scarred face as the sensation he was longing for, praying for, was finally here after so long. Soon, after taking his time, his cock filled you up completely making you moan out his name. He stayed still allowing for you to adjust even more.

“Y/n, my darling, I’m going to move now. Is that okay?” He asked you softly as you felt his hands drift down to your ass once again.

“Yes!” I cried out with clear frustration in your voice.

“Good.” Gyomei responded

He then moved his hips slowly making sure that he wasn’t going to hurt you. Hearing your whimpers make him feel slightly crazy but he knew going too fast now would make you not be able to walk the next day. And he certainly didn’t want to embarrass you. However, your next words surprised him.

“Gyomei,dammit, stop being so nice to me and fuck me. I need it.” You cried out almost angry.

And that was the very encouragement he needed. Gyomei then pulled his cock out, only leaving the tip in making you whine in response before snapping his hips hard.

“Oh fuck!” You cried out as tears began pricking your eyes.

Your husband gripped your hips and ass as he began fucking you relentlessly. His pace was quick as his cock was hitting your cervix hard making your eyes roll back. He then began kissing and sucking on the most sensitive part of your neck making you moan loud. Your body was completely and utterly his in this moment as he was fucking you like never before. His grip on your ass would leave bruises and you knew that, not that you minded. Gyomei was grunting loud as he was pounding you in the air. Holding you like you weighed nothing. Using your body to his liking and god you loved it. You let him know how much you loved it scratching his back and moaning his name like a mantra. As you scratched you made sure not to hurt him.

“Harder my love, dig into my flesh!” He yelled out before crashing his lips hungrily onto yours.

And so, you did. You dig as deep and hard as you could as your husband went even faster than before making your mind and body feel like it was floating in ecstasy. The pain you felt before was long gone but you need for your husband grew and grew with each of his powerful thrusts. You began to cry due to overstimulation and the fact that you loved your husband so dearly.

“I-I love you so much.” You blabbered out as your tears poured out from your e/c eyes.

“I love you too, my darling.” Gyomei spoke out as his own tears started to flow as well. It wasn’t uncommon to see him crying but on this occasion it solidified his feelings for you. He was crying because of how much he loved you, how good you felt, and how thankful he was to have a woman like you in his life. And as he was pouring you he makes a silent prayer to God thanking him for you.

His grip on you increased as he felt himself close to cumming. His pace was erratic as the anticipation to his release was overwhelming. Your pussy was so tight, warm, and made perfectly for him. As for you, your own climax was soon as well. He was overwhelming all of your senses as you had already cum. Your body was far more sensitive than it had been in a long time due to waiting so long. You began to shake as you were getting weaker and weaker. However, you knew that even if you let go completely, your husband would hold you up due to his strength.

“Honey, m’gonna cum soon.” You blabbered out looking at his pleasure filled face.

“Me too, my darling, me too. I’m going to cum inside of you. Is that alright?” He asked quickly as his breathing became ragged.

“Y-yes. I want it.” You wined taking your turn to capture his lips with yours as you stuck your tongue in his mouth as your hands found new strength and gripped his hair roughly. His pace quickened as did his breathing. And soon you husband came as he held you closer to him as his dick was inside you fully.

“Oh my y/n, my one, my love.” He moaned out like he was praying a mantra.

You felt his thick cum filling you up like a warm embrace. You felt so full, so warm, so content. And as your husband held you, he brought one of his large hands yo your clit and began rubbing it in small circles, in the way you loved. He used the mixture of his cum and your slick to bring you pleasure. And just like that, you came hard. Your orgasm wracking your body with indescribable pleasure. His cock still stuffed deeply inside you as Gyomei could feel you tightening around him causing him to grunt as he decided to hump you slowly, enjoying the overstimulation that you were giving him.

“My love. Oh god!” You cried out still shaking from your high.

“I love you.” Gyomei whispered in your ear as he brought his left hand up to wipe the sweaty hair off your face as he placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too. I’m so glad we did this.” You told him still in his embrace with his cock still inside you.

“Me as well. And as much as I’d love to do this again, we have students to attend too my darling love.” He said hesitantly as he gave you one more forehead kiss.

“Yeah, even if we did have time, I’m not sure my body could handle that again.” You admitted feeling tired. You laid your head on his chest taking deep breaths basking in the after glow of sex.

“Are you tired now?” He asked as he slowly pulled out making you gasp at the empty feeling.

“Yes, very.” You responded doing your best to sad on your own as he put you down. The feeling of his cum running down your legs made you shiver with the memory of recent events.

“Good I know you’ve been more restless recently. So I suggest you nap for awhile. I’ll tell the students.” He suggested as he put his clothes back on, doing his best to look at leafy semi presentable.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer.” You yawned taking his arm to balance yourself. “But first I think I need to clean myself first.” You acknowledged feeling a bit gross due to the amount of sweat that was just on your body.

“It’s as though you read my mind, my love.” He spoke with a smile as he hoisted you up again. You were more than accepting of his gesture as your legs were too wobbly to walk properly. “There is a spring near by so we’ll go there and cleanse you, my darling.” He spoke softly sensing you were falling asleep.

“Thank you, my love.” You sleepily replied as you closed your eyes and snuggled into his warm embrace.

Gyomei then took you to that spring and clean you up all while you were too tired to do really anything. Your husband didn’t mind whatsoever as he loved doting and taking care of you. He was a lucky man and he knew that. Once you were all clean, he put your clothes back on your tired body and walked back to camp. As he did some of the students were questioning why you were in his arms and if you were okay. But he simply replied that you needed rest. Soon, he found a nice shady tree and place you under it. The grass was soft enough and this he kissed your lips and said a silent prayer to the gods for you. He then went back to the students and resumed his training to make sure these young demon slayers were ready for the fight with Muzan.

Thank you so much for reading!! I did a trade with @petitelepus so be sure to check out their content too!! 💜

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

Please feel free to like, comment, reblog, and request!

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

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velvet-milk · 9 days ago

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♡. ⤷ how hard is to date them? ⁞ ꗃ ⸺ JASON TODD, BRUCE WAYNE AND DICK GRAYSON ⁞

𖥻canon analysis .ᐟ 𖥻civilian fem!reader .ᐟ

❛❛ ──── BRUCE WAYNE. BATMAN .ᐟ

i don't know why you'd put yourself through this. dating bruce wayne isn't just hard, it's brutal on your heart and mental health. if what you want is a stable, trustworthy, emotionally present partner, bruce is the last man you should be looking at. because the truth is, you'll spend more time trying to understand him than actually being with him. bruce is magnetic. he's charming when he wants to be, but dating him it's not just difficult, it's self-sabotage. because no matter how much you give, you'll always come second to lady gotham. always.

his entire life is built around grief and control. the murder of his parents broke him, and instead of ever healing, he poured himself into the mission. that's not just a choice, that's his coping mechanism, his way to keep the world from spinning out of control again. wich means for bruce, being batman isn't just a job. it's oxygen. it's the thing that keeps him from falling apart. and you can't compete with something that fundamental.

this is why he disappears. why he misses dinners, anniversaries, whole seasons of your life. it's why the people on his life only ever have pieces of him. it's not that he doesn't care, it's that he'll sacrifice intimacy and moments with you in a heartbeat if it gets in the way of the work. gotham isn't just his city. she's his mistress, his obsession, his great love.

and the thing is, he knows he's absent. he knows he's totally failing you. so he tries to fix it the way he fixes everything else: with resources. flowers on your desk, expensive jewelry, surprise getaways he doesn't actually attend. he'll pay your bills, your family's bills, he'll buy you a car or an apartment if he thinks it'll keep you comfortable. his instinct is to solve problems with money, with logistics and with control.

he just doesn't know how to balance love with the crushing weight he puts on himself. and because his psychology is wrapped so tightly around guilt and responsibility, he'll always, always choose the cape over you. not because you don't matter, but because in his mind, the whole world depends on him not stopping.

but here's another thing too, dating bruce wayne doesn't just mean dating the man, it means dating the myth. gotham sees him as their prince, their royalty, the billionaire playboy who's always making headlines. wich means suddenly, you're in those headlines too. every outfit you wear, every charity gala you attend, every time you're spotted alone at a fancy restaurant, it all becomes gossip fodder. and because bruce has to maintain his cover as the shallow, womanizing billionaire, you'll always be seen as just another girlfriend. another fling. another face in the tabloids.

❛❛ ──── DICK GRAYSON. NIGHTWING .ᐟ

i think it's so funny how everyone assumes dating dick grayson would be easy just because he's the most well-adjusted guy in the family. and sure, he actually manages a decent balance between his missions, vigilantism, and his personal life. he's not the type to ghost you or miss the important moments of your life. he actually shows up. he cares. he tries.

but girl let's be real. canonically speaking, dick is easily one of the most attractive men in the universe. he's handsome, charming, seductive, and kind all at once. he's open with his emotions, capable of deep love, and genuinely nurturing in relationships. people just gravitate toward him like he's the fucking sun, he just has that energy, that charisma, that makes everyone feel seen and drawn in.

dick inspired a whole new generation of young heroes and impressed some of the biggest names in the hero community like superman. he funded an entire team of heroes as a teenager, and it was a total success, all under his leadership. his own father, the batman, has told him that his future is to lead the justice league. he's been robin, nightwing, and even stepped in as batman during moments of crisis. so yeah, he's not just ridiculously handsome. he's genuinely extraordinary.

and what i'm really trying to say is, dating dick makes it so easy to feel like he's completely out of your league, especially if you're a civilian. a normal person with a regular life, a college degree, a decent job… it can feel worlds away from everything he's accomplished. the guy has done more by his teenage years than most people do in a lifetime. so it's super easy to feel like you're not on the same level.

and it's not just that he's amazing and ridiculously handsome, he's also dated some incredible women before you, and they're still very much part of his daily life. i'm talking about barbara gordon, literally batgirl, his first love, a tech genius, and a core part of his vigilante life as oracle. then there's koriand'r, his teammate and an alien princess with actual superpowers. and we could keep going, he's canonically had connections with even supegirl and zatanna in the young justice comics. all strong, capable women who are still pretty much in his life. and remember, his ultimate superpower? being on good terms with all of his exes. it's impressive, but also terrifying for you.

and your competition isn't just the amazing women from his past, its literally every average girl out there. the ones ogling your man in the streets, at the supermarket, in the mall. people whispering about nightwing's body, wanting him. it's like everyone is watching, waiting for you to slip up so they can take your place. dating dick grayson is not for the weak, the insecure, or anyone who isn't ready to handle that kind of constant attention. you have to be confident, and fully aware that loving him comes with a lot of eyeballs on your relationship.

❛❛ ──── JASON TODD. RED HOOD .ᐟ

this man is totally running from you. if he likes you, there's a high chance he'll go out of his way not to have anything meaningful, for your sake or his own. well, i can't really see jason todd actively seeking a stable relationship. honestly, i don't even think he believes he's capable of one, even in the few canon attempts he's made. take his relationship with isabel in comics, the flight attendant, he literally hid his vigilante life from her. and if he liked you enough to get close he'd definitely keep red hood a secret, along with half of his traumatic past. a huge chunk of his life, the things that shaped him, would be invisible to you. so, you wouldn't truly understand your own boyfriend, and that's part of the heartbreak of dating jason.

the nightmares, the secrets, the scars, the strange, tense relationships he has with his own family and let's not forget the constant smell of gunpowder in his apartment. you wouldn't understand any of that, because you're only part of a small crack in his life, not the whole picture. you're living in the version of his life he faked for his own comfort, the version where he pretends he hasn't killed anyone and his father figure somehow hasn't failed him. of course, that also means jason comes with some personal issues. fear of abandonment, guilt, anger, and the very real possibility that you might eventually see him as a horrible human being. loving him is complicated, messy, and not for the faint of heart.

but teaching him how to love is the hardest part. helping him relax, trust you, and maybe even trust other people too, it's an uphill battle. jason is always hyperaware of everything, even in the most intimate or romantic moments. on a date, during a kiss, in bed, he's still scanning the exits, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. that constant alertness bleeds into his "normal" life, too. just picture it, jason todd, all six feet of him, standing in your mom's backyard during a sunday barbecue, trying to make small talk with your uncles and cousins. he's stiff, out of place, pretending to be something he's not. he doesn't fit into that world, but he'll try, for you. because loving you makes the discomfort, the suffering, and the act of pretending all worth it.

maybe one day you'll get to see every side of him. the truth behind his disappearances, the scars, and the strange behavior that doesn't always make sense. but for now, he's just happy to be by your side. happy to believe he can keep you separate from the freak show of his vigilante life, from the blood on his knuckles and the weight on his hands. with you, he gets to pretend that he's not himself, but simply a man who deserves love.

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starmapz · 10 months ago

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what you know - ch1: fallen angel || 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. implied injury. family trauma. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. 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 ; 12.1k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

You make a point of not judging a book by its cover. So, when paired with the college’s resident bad boy for the literal most important project of the year, you just nod to yourself. Of course, you’re aware of his very poor attendance record among other things you’ve heard about him. At the end of the day, the rest is all hearsay, so you’ll treat him the same as you would any other group project partner.

Searching around the lecture hall until your gaze lands on him, you shoot him a kind smile. You don’t expect him to return it, he practically always sports a disinterested or aloof expression and now is one of those times, it would seem. He’s wearing his usual oversized but fairly stylish shirt, baggy cargo pants and a leather jacket, even though it’s quite warm inside. One airpod sits in his ear, only half paying attention.

The two of you are practically polar opposites. You, who shows up to class ten minutes early, jots down every note you possibly can, and turns in projects a week early, not to mention your fairly preppy style, makes the two of you about as different as it gets. On top of that, there were moments where Sukuna would dip into a room late and you would wonder why he bothers paying for college at all. Does he even want to be here?

Turning back to your laptop, you decide you’ll set up some documents for your project to get ahead of everything and stop worrying about someone else’s life. You’ll just have to make the most of the project. Besides, Sukuna could be the best project partner you’ll ever work with.

Upon dismissal, you wait a moment for the room to clear before slinging your pale pink bag over your shoulder, holding your books to your chest and making your way up the lecture hall to where Sukuna’s seated.

“Hey, nice to meet you, I’m-”

“I know who you are,” he sighs. “I’m Sukuna.”

Rude. “Right,” you swallow, blinking twice as you attempt to clear your mind of the less than ideal first impression. “So, I was thinking since we need to analyze three paintings, I can choose one, you can choose one and we can do the work separately and then work together on the last one-”

“Sure, whatever.”

You purse your lips. That was easy. Or does he just not care? Brushing off the thought, you nod slowly. “Okay. Great,” you mumble somewhat nervously, unsure if the reason your voice is wavering is out of fear that you’re doomed from the project, or the fact that Sukuna is hardly giving you the time of day and it’s somewhat imposing.

Finding the nerve to meet his gaze, you find that it seems he’s barely paying attention. His deep near-crimson eyes accented by tattoos are trained off to the side, one hand in his pocket and the other is fiddling with an unlit cigarette. You have half a mind to wonder if he’s heard a damn thing you’ve said given the airpod still hanging from his pierced lobe.

“Do you, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth as you mentally reset to stop yourself from stammering. “Do you want to go over anything before we do our parts?”

“Nah.”

Nah? Oh my god, you’re doomed.

“Okay. No problem. Um, why don’t we just meet after class next Friday?”

Sukuna balances the unlit cigarette between his lips, shuffling to pull out his phone and open his calendar. “Sure,” he agrees, his words muffled by the cigarette.

“Great! I think we’ll want to start working on the third piece next week so I’ll choose the first painting and get started on it and then we can choose the last painting next week,” you say, putting the date in your calendar as well. “Oh! And we should exchange numbers.”

He hums in agreement, not even giving you the time for words now but he does give you his number. Realizing you aren’t about to get anywhere else with him, you shoot him a wry smile and make your way out the door.

Oh Shoko is so gonna hear about this.

–

Before you know it, next Friday comes around and when you turn your gaze to where Sukuna usually sits, you realize he just isn’t there.

Well that’s… lovely.

Leaning forward on your elbows, you groan with your face in your hands. This project was sure to be a nightmare at this rate. You could already see yourself going to talk to the professor about how Sukuna hadn’t done an ounce of work and it was all done by you.

Opening your laptop, you stare at the document you’d put together for Persistence of Memory, which may be an obvious choice but you love the painting too much to choose a different one.

Maybe you should just choose the third one on your own.

Maybe you should just choose the second one on your own…

Fuck.

You sigh, glancing back at Sukuna’s empty seat once more, and to your surprise just as you begin to give up hope upon seeing his seat empty, he ambles through the door in an oversized hoodie and sweats as though the lecture didn’t end fifteen minutes ago.

His gaze meets yours and he tilts his chin upwards at you, a silent message for you to take a seat near him.

Gathering your belongings, you take your laptop over to him, setting it on the table beside him in the mostly-empty lecture hall.

“Hey,” you greet him, receiving a grunt in response. “I was starting to think you were gonna flake out on me,” you joke with a somewhat nervous laugh when you meet his striking gaze. His disinterested eyes bore into you as he examines your nervous expression, and it’s then that you notice that- “are you okay?”

He sighs, heavy with exasperation, running a hand over his sharp features. His hair is still damp, not spiked up as usual as it hangs over his forehead, he has dark circles that make him look like he hasn’t slept in years, and his leg is shaking up and down like he’s got somewhere else to be.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, unimpressed that you’ve noticed how horribly disheveled he looks, but he brushes it off. “You got somethin’ to show me?”

“I, um-” you pause, casting him one last uncertain glance at the fact that oh my god, he looks sick? “Yeah, so I chose a Salvador Dalì piece,” you tell him, nudging your laptop towards him so that he can see your analysis.

He casts a glance at it, and it’s then that you realize that he doesn’t seem to have a laptop on him. Hm.

He seems to have noticed your confusion as he pulls out his phone, fiddling with it for a moment or two before setting it in front of you. “Had to do something before our meeting, so I don’t have my computer right now, but here’s what I’ve got so far.”

You flash him a curious glance before staring at his phone screen, reading through his notes quietly. The Fallen Angel painted by Alexandre Cabanel. You can’t say you’re shocked, but it’s a good choice. His analysis is short and needs more detail, but it’s a good start and fairly insightful. Sukuna lacks elegance with his words, but this is just the research phase anyway. Okay, not a bad start.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

To your surprise, although he’s mostly quiet, he gives you some input on your analysis and hums in agreement when you ask him to write a bit more in certain areas to match your research. He doesn’t even seem that bothered by it, only mildly inconvenienced. You would almost argue that he was agreeable if you couldn’t feel the side-eye you were receiving from him.

When you finally settle on C. Allan Gilbert’s All is Vanity for your final piece, Sukuna excuses himself quite quickly and makes his way out, grunting in agreement when you ask him to meet you at the same time next week. You had hoped to get some research done with him but this would have to do, and hopefully you would have more time next week.

Only… when next week comes, he doesn’t show. You lean over the desk where Sukuna usually sits, figuring maybe he’s just late again, but as the clock rolls past the thirty minute mark, you begin to lose hope. Tapping your fingers rhythmically over the desk as you stare at the clock, you resign to texting him.

3:39 PM || You: hey! just wondering if youre on your way

Another twenty minutes of staring at the sent text does you no good and you can’t really get much done without Sukuna’s portion, so with a sigh, you push yourself up and call Shoko to go out with you. At least now you can make the most of your Friday night, even if it’s a bit earlier than intended.

–

“He just completely no-showed, huh?”

“Not even a text,” you confirm with a groan, keeping your attention on the road as you make your way to the bar by Shoko’s house. The afternoon sun glints on the windshield of your car, warming the interior of the vehicle rather comfortably for the early autumn day.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Shoko hums at the thought.

“I really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, I mean honestly his research wasn’t too bad,” you sigh, casting a glance at your best friend.

“Could still be salvageable. Maybe try asking him what works for him?” She suggests with a shrug, leaning back in her seat as she stares blankly out the windshield.

“I don’t know. I think if I leave things up to him, he just won’t do it.”

“Oh, because he’s been so good at showing up when you organize things?” She chides with a raised brow.

You suppose you can’t really argue with that, so you groan in response. “At least he has a good taste in art.”

“Yeah?”

“A little edgy, but yeah. He chose The Fallen Angel, you know the one that-” you pause, moving your arm over your face to mimic the famous painting while keeping your eyes on the road and one hand on the wheel.

“Oh yeah, I think I know the one,” she agrees with a chuckle at your description. “I think I’ve seen-” she pauses as your car comes to a slow halt at a stop light. You shoot her a questioning glance when she remains quiet. “Speak of the devil. Isn’t that him?”

“Sukuna?” You question, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of whatever Shoko’s looking at.

Sure enough, the pink-haired man in question is on the sidewalk along with two young kids. He seems frustrated, his hand flying in the air in obvious exasperation and you wonder what his relation to them is. Your first thought is that they could be his, but the older of the two kids is just a bit too old to make that assumption.

Still, you didn’t take Sukuna as someone enthusiastic at the thought of being a babysitter.

“Shit, that is him,” Shoko confirms for herself. When the light turns green, the car jolts forward as you pull through a lane abruptly to turn and grab street parking very suddenly. “Woah, what are you-? You can’t be serious.”

“I-” your words die in your throat. Are you serious? What are you doing? It’s not like you’re friends. Are you here to confront him about not showing up? No, you aren’t really even mad, just frustrated at most. Your mind flashes back to how he’d looked the week before, like he could pass out at any moment, and you wonder if you’re here out of concern. “I don’t know,” you mumble, parking your car and hopping out.

“You are serious,” she mutters more to herself than you as she watches you leave the car with a sigh, following a short distance behind you.

The day is relatively warm for the early fall, the sun shining high overhead and providing a comfortable escape from the brisk breeze. Leaves are losing their vibrant green colors overhead, replaced with beautiful hues of yellows, oranges, and reds, and the sound of them rustling in the breeze is refreshing.

From around the corner, you can just barely make out Sukuna’s words. You were right to assume he was frustrated.

“Give it back to your brother,” he instructs, his voice a near-growl, but as the younger of the two kids whines in complaint, you can tell neither kid seems all that intimidated even by the almost seven-foot-tall man made of pure muscle who towers over them.

“No!”

“C’mon brat, I don’t have time for this,” he hisses out, voice rife with irritation. As you round the corner, lightly jogging up to Sukuna, you watch his gaze slowly turn to land on you and Shoko, his eyes widening for a moment as his expression shifts to surprise. For a moment you even think you see horror flash through his eyes, but he masks it all with his usual disinterested expression before you have time to think much about it.

“Sukuna?”

“That’s me,” he grumbles, running a hand through his tousled hair in exasperation.

“Hi! I’m Yuji!” The younger of the two boys bounds up to you, blatantly ignoring Sukuna as he waves to Shoko behind you.

You grin at him, kneeling down to his height as you greet him with your name. His eyes are filled with delight and as you get back to your feet, you put the pieces together. These must be Sukuna’s little brothers. Although the older of the two doesn’t particularly look like him, the youngest is a near carbon copy of Sukuna, only lacking his tattoos, piercings, and his signature attitude.

“What a cutie,” you coo at the little boy, who can’t be any older than five. The older of the two boys doesn’t resemble Sukuna in the same way Yuji does, with sunken eyes and unkempt long brown hair, he looks to be about eleven… and he also looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

“Don’t feed his ego,” Sukuna huffs, watching you interact with Yuji with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Look! Look!” Yuji excitedly holds his hands out to you. You recognize an old GameBoy in his hands, something you’re sure you have hidden away somewhere in your own apartment from your childhood.

“I had one of those when I was young,” you tell him, glancing up at Sukuna whose left brow slowly raises.

“Really? Do you like Pokemon?”

“Yuji, that’s enough. Leave her alone and give it back to your brother,” Sukuna instructs, his frustration laced within his words.

“No! Choso’s playing it wrong,” he argues.

Sukuna looks like he’s about to burst. If he were a balloon, he’d be floating dangerously close to a pin, and it’s in that moment that you finally get a good look at him. If you thought he looked sickly last week, he looks like he’s about to collapse now.

His eyes are sunken, skin pale, and although he’s making an effort to mask it, his focus seems as though it’s drifting while he simply stands there. His hair is disheveled in a way that doesn’t look intentional and there’s a stain on the abdomen of his shirt. Which, to your surprise, is also a uniform for a local food distribution warehouse. He’s wearing cargo pants, steel-toed boots, and a blue polo shirt. It’s a strange look for him, but you’re more concerned about the fact that he seems to be swaying, he’s so tired.

“I wasn’t playing it wrong!” Choso argues back, leaping at his brother as they get into a scuffle, and it’s barely a split second before Yuji is in tears alongside Choso.

“Fucking-” Sukuna cuts himself off, taking a step forward.

Instinctively, you step in before Sukuna needs to. “Hey, hey!” You coo softly, leaning back down to them. “Why don’t you both play together?” Yuji’s sobs don’t stop at your suggestion, although Choso backs away from the younger boy, listening to what you have to say with a heartbreakingly sad expression over something so simple. Life was so much easier at their age.

“How?” Yuji asks through sobs.

“Why don’t you take turns? It’s Pokemon, right?” You ask, earning a nod from Yuji as he sniffles and wipes his face, his sleeve absolutely covered in tears and snot already. “Why don’t you pass it over between each battle?”

Yuji stares at you skeptically, as though the little boy cannot possibly fathom sharing. Choso quietly waits for his brother to come to a conclusion as his sniffles subside, all the while Sukuna just watches the entire scene unfold with a furrowed brow.

“Okay,” Yuji finally agrees in a small voice. “But I go first!”

To your surprise, Choso seems fine with this as they both crowd around the game.

When you stand back up, you’re happy to find that Sukuna looks absolutely relieved.

“Fuck, thought I’d never hear the end of that,” he mumbles, making you wonder if that’s his begrudging way of thanking you.

You chuckle quietly, crossing your arms over your chest with a small shrug. “I’m good with kids,” you tell him. He eyes you for a moment, humming, but doesn’t say anything. After a brief silence, you glance back up at him to find the tall man’s tired gaze still boring into you.

“Ask,” he instructs.

Your brow raises. “Ask?”

“You wanna ask where I was today, right?”

That obvious, huh? “I did wait for an hour.”

A hint of a smirk graces his lips as he snidely comments, “y’know, I’m sure I’ve had other women wait longer.” You aren’t sure how he expects you to react, but the way you raise a brow and don’t entertain his lewd implications clearly doesn’t encourage him to continue. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he clicks his tongue and turns his head away from you. “Had to pick up a shift at work. Was gonna text but the little brat broke my phone yesterday.”

“Sorry, Kuna,” Yuji’s voice is small as you realize he’s been listening the whole time now that Choso is holding the GameBoy. His cheeks are puffy and red still from crying, but god he sure is a mini Sukuna.

“Kunaaaa?” You coo teasingly at the absolutely adorable nickname.

“He can’t say my name,” Sukuna grumbles, suppressing his irritation as best as he can, given that you did save him from further arguments with his brothers and he did already test his limits with you anyway. Still, his nose wrinkles in distaste at the nickname as he stares at the ground with a huff.

“That’s so cute!” You practically squeal, eyes bright as you grin at the hulking mass of anger and maybe even embarrassment as his cheeks heat up before your eyes.

“Shut up,” he hisses, still avoiding your gaze.

“It’s alright, by the way. We can figure out another time to meet.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll text-” he cuts himself off, blinking at the realization that he has no phone. “I’ll email you or some shit.”

“Email. Right,” you sarcastically tease with a tilt of your head. A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw visibly twitches and he huffs.

“Take it or leave it.”

You raise your hands in the air defensively, unable to help your amused smile. As silence falls over the both of you, interrupted only by Choso’s quiet commentary to Yuji about their game, you let your expression morph to one of concern again. Your lips part to ask if Sukuna’s alright, but he beats you to it.

“I’m fine.” His voice is low and strained and you both know you don’t believe him.

“You look it,” you challenge him sarcastically.

Sukuna’s jaw tenses as he stares you down as if daring you to challenge him again. Luckily for him, you’re willing to let it go.

“Do you guys need a ride somewhere?” You ask, glancing back in the direction of your car. Shoko is probably itching to get to the bar, though surely she won’t mind your offer given that the man in front of you looks like he could melt into a puddle if it only meant he could sleep.

“No.”

“Yeah!”

Sukuna and Yuji stare at one another as they both respond at the same time.

“No. We’re fine,” Sukuna growls, narrowing his eyes at the young boy.

“I don’t wanna walk anymooooore,” Yuji complains, shooting Choso a pleading look. Catching on, Choso shoots Sukuna a pair of puppy dog eyes. God the two of them are just adorable.

“No, both of you. Cut it out. Now.” Sukuna’s voice drops an octave as he hisses the last word.

“I really don’t mind,” you say quietly, leaning closer to him in an attempt to keep your words between the two of you.

“I don’t need your help,” Sukuna protests, taking a step towards you with massive muscular arms folding over his chest as his polo shirt is pulled taut from the movement.

“So if I give you a little push, you won’t fall over and pass out?”

“No.” He scowls defensively as he stares back at his two brothers, not noticing the way you slowly reach your hand out before shoving him lightly. He sways backwards slightly, catching himself before he actually does fall over as he swats at your hand. “Fucking- What the fuck is wrong with you?” He grouses, voice dripping with irritation and anger, although it doesn’t reach his eyes. He just looks tired.

“Let me drive you where you need to go and I’ll stop,” you taunt, moving your hand forward to shove him again.

Now paying attention, he grabs your wrist before you can push him. “Christ, you’re almost as much of a brat as my brothers,” he huffs, fiery eyes hyper-focused on your cheerful demeanor in spite of the fact that he’s been nothing short of snappy with you since you first showed up. “You’ll stop because I said so, not because I’m agreeing, got that?”

You shrug, shooting him a smile that says you won. “Whatever you say, Sukuna.”

He drops your wrist with a dramatic sigh before ushering his brothers after you as you turn to make your way back to your car.

“Can’t say I know what just happened,” Shoko whispers in your ear as she walks alongside you to your car. “But I’m surprised he agreed.”

“I’m not. He’s barely awake,” you tell her as you both cast a glance back at him. He doesn’t seem to notice as he bickers with his brothers, telling them to keep up if they want a ride from you.

“Yeah, he looks like shit,” she chuckles with a shake of her head. Never one to beat around the bush, but she is right.

Unlocking your car, you open the back door as Sukuna lifts his youngest brother into the backseat, grumbling about the two boys needing to behave before he climbs in himself, completely blocking your view through your rearview mirror.

He huffs and puffs as he gives you his address, choosing not to say a word throughout the ride as he listens to you chat with Shoko, muttering only the occasional “cut it out” or “stop that, brat” to one of his brothers.

Rolling up to what you assume is his apartment, you put the car in park and turn your attention back to the boys, putting on your best radio voice.

“Thank you for riding, please exit to your left and have a greeeeeat day!” You earn a sweet laugh from Yuji and a calm smile from Choso for your antics. You can practically feel Sukuna’s exasperation as it comes off of him in waves, clearly done with the world for the day, but you don’t miss the silent relief gleaming in his eyes.

“What do you say?” Sukuna gruffs, nudging the youngest of his brothers who you’re obviously putting on the show for.

“Thank you, miss!” He grins brightly as Sukuna opens the door and lowers him to the ground. He hands Choso a pair of keys, nudging them along to the door of the run-down building. To your surprise, he shuts the door and comes around to your side, knocking on the window.

You tilt your head as you roll down the window.

“Thanks…” he trails off as though the word is sour on his tongue, shooting a glance at Shoko in a silent gesture of thank you to her as well.

“No problem. Go get some sleep,” you tell him softly. Frustration flashes through his eyes as you tell him what to do but he’s not about to lash out at the person responsible for his grade who also gave him a ride home. Even he’s not that much of an asshole.

He sets a hand on your hood, pausing for a moment before he runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up more than it already was. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to anyone, yeah?”

You tilt your head, exchanging a glance with Shoko as he looks between the two of you. “Yeah. No problem.”

His hand slides off your car as he rounds the vehicle to follow after his brothers. He pauses to cast a glance at you, before pushing into the front lobby of his apartment building and out of sight.

Silence falls over both you and Shoko as you watch the tattooed man disappear into the building when Choso holds the door open for him.

“That was fucking weird,” Shoko comments.

“Hm?” You hum as you pull out of the apartment, unsure of what she means. Of course Sukuna would have a life Shoko had never thought about, it’s not like they were close, you aren’t sure what she was expecting.

“He wasn’t a complete dick.”

Shooting Shoko a confused glance, you purse your lips. “Is he known for that? I thought he was just a bit of a delinquent.”

“Yeah, that too, but he’s pretty well-known for being snappy with people and snarky to profs.”

“Oh,” you blink twice in thought, keeping your eyes on the road. “I don’t know. He’s pretty quiet in Art History, this project is the first time I’ve ever talked to him. I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Huh,” Shoko shrugs, “guess you’re on his good side, then.” She sighs, leaning back in her seat once again. “Oh well, you have blackmail on him anyway, so there’s no way he’s bailing on you now,” she grins with a teasing smirk.

Your eyes widen and you move your elbow to nudge her. “Absolutely not, and don’t you think about it either!”

Shoko chuckles, though you know she wouldn’t anyway. Much like you, she’s too kind to spill Sukuna’s secrets to the school, regardless of her opinions or thoughts on him.

–

As you return home from the bar late that night with a comfortable buzz that had left you needing to keep your car at the bar overnight, you pour yourself a glass of water and open your laptop on your bed, letting it boot up while you change into an oversized cozy beige hoodie with little bows adorning the sleeves.

Pulling the sleeves of the hoodie down over your hands and throwing on a pair of shorts, you run a hand through your hair and log into your laptop, pulling it onto your lap to browse social media, when something catches your eye.

You don’t pay much attention to your email inbox most of the time. Maybe you should, after all the college sends you a fair amount of emails and you’ve missed some in the past, but what catches your eye is certainly not from the faculty.

It’s a response to the document you sent Sukuna via email last week.

Oh shit, he was serious about sending you an email.

Maybe it’s because you're drunk, or maybe it’s because the idea of the nearly seven foot tall tattooed man who you’d watched leave class once just to smoke sending you an email of all things is a truly funny thought, but you snicker to yourself as you open it.

[email protected] - Saturday, 1:17 AM hey. you around this weekend

Your snicker turns to a full laugh as you read the message. You can’t decide if the message feels like a sad attempt at a booty call, an old man attempting to text via email, or an embarrassing attempt to save his bruised ego since he can’t text you.

You’d learned from Shoko at the bar earlier that Sukuna has quite the reputation. Supposedly he’s known for bringing a woman home at every party, for being able to smooth talk his way into the bedroom in spite of his usually grumpy and ill-mannered demeanor, and for being able to always get what he wants even though he has a reputation for being an asshole. So it’s hard not to laugh when that same man is the one who just sent you the most awkward email. At one in the morning. On a Saturday.

Oh my god.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:12 AM Hey Sukuna! I’m around tomorrow afternoon and all day Sunday. Did you have time to work on the project?

You hit send and shut your laptop, deciding to brush your teeth and begin getting ready to get some rest. Taking off your makeup and brushing your hair, you finish up your nighttime routine and decide on a whim to see if your project partner has responded to you.

Getting under the covers and leaning against the headboard of your bed, you open your laptop again. To your surprise, your inbox has gone up by one.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:19 AM cool. come by mine tomorrow whenever

You snicker to yourself as you read the message again. He’s certainly not fighting either the sad booty call or old man texting via email allegations.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:23 AM Had to leave my car at the bar, did you wanna come by my place?

To your surprise, it’s only a couple of minutes later when he replies.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:25 AM uhhh i gotta watch over the brats

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:26 AM Bring them!! They’re so cute :)

You can practically feel his irritated grumbles through the screen when not even a minute later he responds.

[email protected] - Saturday, 2:26 AM fine. address and time

With a satisfied smile, you let him know to drop by at two in the afternoon and send him your address before shutting your laptop.

As you lay down in bed, you can’t help but wonder what a strange little world you’ve somehow managed to squeeze your way into. Sukuna’s world. Maybe it’s because he’s easy to tease, maybe it’s the undeniable fact that he’s a good looking guy, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s actually surprised you more than once now and you’re somewhat enjoying the project more than you initially thought you would, but you can’t help but find yourself fascinated by him.

Come to think of it, you wonder if maybe Shoko’s comment has something to do with it. You think back to the way that she mentioned that he was oddly agreeable and, well, not a dick, and you wonder if it’s a curiosity to get to know this side of Sukuna that no one seems to know that compels you to be laying in bed at two in the morning thinking about the situation.

Regardless, you fall asleep with a calm little smile.

–

Glancing at the clock, you have half a mind to wonder if Sukuna will actually show up. Sure, he was the one who reached out, but maybe you should have just bussed to your car rather than waiting on Shoko to drive you to it and gone to his place on your own given that you can’t text him to ask where he is and it’s almost two thirty in the afternoon.

You could email him.

No… no. You aren’t about to email him.

You almost laugh to yourself at the thought.

Returning to your coffee, you keep at your work, refining your notes until you have something you think you can confidently write a full thesis about, when finally there’s a buzz at your door.

Speak of the devil. You buzz him up and there's a knock at your apartment door a few moments later.

“Cut that out,” Sukuna hisses practically the moment you open the door. You raise a brow at him and he sighs. “The brat, not you,” he clarifies, nudging Yuji.

You shoot him a sweet smile, suppressing a chuckle. Sukuna is dressed in a leather jacket, a white V-Neck and a pair of ripped jeans. In comparison to his usual baggy cargo pants and hoodie, he almost seems like he’s dressed up a bit and you can’t help but smile at the thought. More importantly though, the dark circles beneath his eyes are just a bit faded in comparison to when you had spotted him yesterday and you can tell he was able to get a bit of rest.

Yuji is excitedly looking up at you and attempting to tug on Sukuna’s hand while Choso stands behind his brother silently, his expression neutral.

“Hey guys, c’mon in.” You grin as you open the door for them, watching Yuji bound in ahead of his older brothers. He begins looking around with wide eyes, so full of wonder and excitement that you can’t help but smile.

“Such sweet kids,” you comment as Sukuna stands beside you, sighing as both brothers practically run to the sofa, looking around your little apartment excitedly.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You giggle at Sukuna, nudging him playfully. The glare he shoots you as he grunts seems to lack the usual malice his expressions hold and he runs a hand through his well-groomed hair, motioning for you to lead the way.

You show him to your little desk at the back of the apartment, pulling up a kitchen chair for yourself as you give him your office chair. He silently obliges, sitting down with his legs spread.

“One moment,” you mumble, heading into your room briefly before reappearing with none other than your old GameBoy, complete with a copy of Pokemon Ruby. Sukuna’s gaze is tethered to you and although his expression doesn’t change, you see surprise flash across his crimson irises as you walk up to the boys, kneeling in front of them.

“Choso, do you want to use my old GameBoy?” You ask the brown-haired young man, holding it out to him. His eyes are wide with surprise as Yuji’s jaw drops open. Choso nods, not saying a word as he flips the device and eyes the game. If it’s even possible, his eyes widen further and he smiles shyly.

“Are you sure?”

“More than sure. I bet there’s some neat Pokemon on that file,” you tell him.

The two boys exchange a grin and Choso thanks you profusely as he turns on the system.

“No problem. There’s a TV in my room, why don’t you two hang out in there and you don’t need to listen to your brother and I talk about boring art, hm?”

Yuji nods excitedly, bounding to his feet and grabbing your hand. Your heart swells at the action as you lead him and Choso to your room and hand them the remote. It takes all of a moment for both of them to begin bickering about what to watch, though you notice their arguments are fairly one-sided, with Choso being much quieter than his younger brother.

Leaving the two of them to their own devices, you make your way back out to Sukuna, who’s set his laptop on your desk and draped his jacket over the back of his chair. He’s wearing a white band tee with a deep V-neck for a metal band you aren’t familiar with, though the sleeves are torn off. With arms crossed over his chest and tattooed muscular arms on display, it’s undeniable just how attractive he is.

The real surprise is when he turns his head to look at you and his sharp eyes are, strangely, filled with… well you aren’t quite sure. Uncertainty? Confusion?

You subtly tilt your head when you take a seat on the kitchen chair beside him. His chair spins to face you as he examines you.

“Is something wrong?”

Sukuna’s adam's apple bobs as he swallows, before shaking his head. “Nah. Let’s just get this shit over with,” he grumbles, opening his laptop and turning his research document towards you. He’s clearly taken a look at yours, because his notes are in a similar format and he has about as much written as you, not to mention he’s put some work into research on the third painting you two had chosen.

Your brows raise as you read through it. “Wow, this is really good.”

He scoffs. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

You chuckle in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to come off that way, I just-” you pause, leaning back in your chair. Aside from the subtle sounds of Pokemon and the TV in the background, the only sound that breaks the silence as you pause is the squeaking of your chair. “I don’t know. When you were late and then you just didn’t show up, I…” you trail off, not wanting to accuse him of something that clearly isn’t true.

“You assumed the worst.”

Your mouth opens but any words you had in your defense die on your tongue, casting your glance to the side as you search for something, anything, to explain your thought process. No matter what way you try to word it, you’re definitely the bad guy here.

“It’s fine. Everyone does.”

Your brow furrows but before you can ask what he means, Choso is surprising you as he taps on your arm. You turn your attention to the young boy, who’s looking up at you with gleaming eyes.

“You have Rayquaza,” he states, arms outstretched to show you a serpentine creature on the GameBoy.

Your curiosity twists to easy mirth as you smile at him. “I guess I do, huh?”

Choso’s arms fall back down in front of him as he stares down at the Pokemon. His eyes flicker up to you briefly, then back down. “You have Groudon too.”

You can’t help your amused laugh. He’s such a sweet and shy little boy, but he talks just like Sukuna. Straight to the point, blunt, and rather short. He may not look like Sukuna like Yuji does, but his speech is just like his older brother’s.

“Leave her alone,” Sukuna mumbles gruffly from beside you. Choso smiles up at him before bounding back to your room. You can hear the two of them gearing up to play the games together from across the apartment, the game’s music heard in mismatched double as they both turn up the volume.

Turning back to Sukuna, your trail of thought is completely gone. “What was I saying?”

“You got any music? The brat’s game’s been drivin’ me crazy,” Sukuna mutters. “Yuji broke my laptop’s speakers,” he sighs.

“He’s on a hot streak for breaking things, huh?” You giggle.

“Don’t get me started.”

You turn in your seat, pointing towards the wall where a table sits with a fairly nice record player on it, and a shelf of records. They’re organized by artist and their sleeves range from new-looking to clearly well-loved.

Getting to his feet, Sukuna follows to where you point, curiously staring at the spines of the records. He’s not exactly shocked by most of the choices, but a few of them do stand out to him, and you’re thankful when you hear him sliding something off the shelf and putting it on the player.

You recognize the melody in the air instantly, and grin when Sukuna sits down beside you again. “The Eagles?”

Sukuna doesn’t move as his eyes slowly trail to you. He hums after a moment. “It’s a good album. You have… alright taste.”

In truth, he doesn’t mind your taste in music. Sure, he may not be fond of all of your choices, many in fact, but it would seem the two of you are making a habit out of surprising one another as he has his next album choice in mind already.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckle at his dry attempt at being nice. The corner of Sukuna’s lips twitches up into a hint of a smile. It suits him.

As Hotel California blankets the air in warm strings and simple drum beats, the two of you are able to get a good amount of work done, putting your research together into one well-written and coherent thesis, one to be proud of.

Of course, you still need to put together an actual visual presentation to go with the thesis to be presented, but at least the bulk of the work is over with and you can feel confident in your project without concern anymore.

You have half a mind to get started on the visual portion now as well to get it all finished, but one glance at Sukuna tells you he’s tapped out, and either way you’ve gone through three records at this point as the final track on a Pink Floyd album comes to a close.

As silence falls over your project group, Sukuna lets out a sigh. It’s fairly dark in the room too as the sun sets, and when you check the clock to find it’s already six, you realize that’s likely why your stomach’s been making noises for the last twenty minutes.

“Why don’t you guys all stay for dinner?” You suggest, mostly out of politeness, but you can’t help but feel as though you’re drawn to him. You want to get to know him, know why he’s late so often, why he stays in school just to not show up for classes when it’s his money being blown. After all, it can’t just be his brothers or work, he likely only takes care of them while his parents are at work, surely.

Sukuna wearily glances between you and the door where his little brothers are, before shaking his head. “Nah, I can just make us somethin’ when we get back.”

“I insist,” you grin at him, watching the way a muscle twitches in jaw. “There are some great places nearby, we can just grab takeout while they play games, we’ll only be gone for a moment.”

He remains silent, arms crossed disdainfully over his chest before grimacing, giving in to your overly kind grin.

You settle on a curry restaurant just down the block and grab the boys’ orders, letting them know you’ll be right back. You’re sure you can trust Choso to look after his younger brother for twenty minutes.

As the chilly evening air hits your face, you let out a content hum, peering curiously back to see Sukuna falling into step with you. The two of you are a sight to behold, your appearance preppy and sweet decorated with autumnal colors fitting for the season, while he’s clad in leather and punk attire, the tones of his clothing purely grayscale.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, keeping his mild gaze locked in front of him.

“How old are they, your brothers?”

“Five and twelve,” Sukuna replies, fighting off a yawn and failing.

Amused, you smile up at him. “I’m glad you got some rest last night. I was worried about you.”

His brow twitches as he meets your kind smile. “Worried? About me?” He shoots you an incredulous look, scoffing. When you pout at him, he’s unable to hold back a smirk. It’s the first time you’ve seen him truly at ease and now that you’re alone with him, you notice that he actually seems to be somewhat relaxed.

“Yeah, maybe I was. Shoot me,” you shrug, playfully rolling your eyes.

He snorts, entertained, growing silent although the air that settles over you is comfortable now. Sukuna’s presence is surprisingly calming now that he isn’t constantly regarding you with disinterested gazes and irritated huffs. His expressions remain mild, but his brooding is more infrequent and the tension in his gruff voice has dulled. You would almost think he likes being around you.

As you come up to the curry restaurant, you lean into Sukuna with a point of your finger, silently telling him to enter the restaurant to your right. He pulls the door open for you, trailing closely behind. The atmosphere of the restaurant is busy, the employees behind the counter moving quickly to fulfill orders. Sukuna can only imagine how good the food must be given the line waiting to order, though you assure him it won’t take long.

He casts a glance up at the menu and frowns as he takes in the prices. He can afford to pay for himself, Yuji, and Choso, but not you. He has half a mind to say something, but his pride causes him to choke on the words. He inconspicuously pulls out his phone to take a look at his bank app to see if he can swing anything, but catches a glimpse of an employee not paying attention as he moves quickly towards you, all the while you’re not paying attention either, idly staring at the menu.

The employee about to barrel into you is holding a massive steel bucket and while Sukuna can’t see what’s inside, he doesn’t love the idea of you covered in water or worse.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, he lowers himself slightly, locking a strong arm around your middle and lifting you off the ground. You yelp in surprise, eyes wide as you latch onto his arm for purchase, head whipping around in confusion until you find the employee now walking past the exact spot you were in with boiling hot oil in a bucket.

Your lips purse, a shiver running from the base of your spine up to your nape just as Sukuna drops you to the ground unceremoniously in front of him. Your heels land with a clack on the ground as you catch your balance, your eyes still trailing after the employee that hadn’t been able to see you over the jug of hot oil they carried.

“Pay attention,” he scolds you with a frown.

“Oh my god,” you mutter mostly to yourself, your heart beating out of your chest as you finally look up at your savior. Your eyes flicker down to his arms. Even covered in leather, the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric with each movement he makes doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Thank you, S’kuna.”

He shoves his hands in his pocket, nodding. The way you abbreviate his name is painfully close to the nickname he avoids as much as he can, but he can’t bring himself to correct you and in all honesty, he’s not sure why. He lets it slide, clearing his throat as he clears his mind of the way the name seems to shake him.

“Don’t make a habit of it.”

His words feel like they should be scolding, but his tone doesn’t hold the same meaning. As he stares back up at the menu with a stitch in his horribly handsome brow, you can’t help but find yourself confused by the meaning of his words.

You don’t have much time to think about it as your turn to order comes and you find yourself at the counter, giving the employee your order before glancing back at Sukuna. His mouth parts and he hesitates.

“I- uh-”

You’ve never seen him dither in such a way and you tilt your head, blinking in confusion.

“I can’t-”

Frustration flashes through his eyes and you can see his jaw clench as he trips over his words. Flustered isn’t the right word, but his pride is certainly hurt as he finally manages to force out the explanation you need.

“I can’t afford to- uh-”

Again he pauses, his expression burning with irritation as his cheeks heat up, the admission coming at the cost of his ego.

Your face softens in understanding and your soft fingers wrap around his tattooed wrist, pulling him up to the counter.

“I’ve got it. I invited you to stay, it’s on me.” You hold your card out with a kind smile, but Sukuna doesn’t share your sentiment, anger flashing across the crimson of his eyes as he grits his teeth at you.

“I don’t need help,” he hisses, eyes narrowed as his walls go back up right before you.

“That’s not-” your eyes widen as you try to salvage the situation when Sukuna recoils suddenly. You hadn’t intended for him to take your words so personally, you’d just felt it was the right thing to do given that you had invited not only him, but both of his brothers over as well, and suggested the place to begin with. “You can get the next one,” you tell him in hopes of mending the bridge between you.

He examines your expression, finding no traces of malice or ill-will in your features. Frowning, he huffs as he turns to give his order to the poor employee who’d had the displeasure of witnessing Sukuna’s outburst. In his silence, you order for his little brothers as well.

With a dour sigh, the tattooed man moves along to the side to wait for the order, the fact that you paid leaving a sour taste in his mouth. You make your way over to him, leaving a small distance between you.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.”

“Really, I- I-” you stumble over your words as he glares at you. You suppose Shoko had warned you that Sukuna was notoriously an ass, but you hadn’t witnessed it first hand until now. Still, you can’t help but feel like what you’re witnessing isn’t that. At the end of the day he isn’t lashing out for no reason, it’s clear you struck a nerve and you can’t blame him for being hurt by it, even if it’s not what you intended and you don’t fully understand where he’s coming from.

“Drop it,” Sukuna growls, though his anger has subsided somewhat, his gaze cast to the wall.

You blink up at him, hating the way the world seems to hold its breath around you.

You can’t deny that the man who towers over you, covered in tattoos and piercings is intimidating. Between his gruff voice, his mild mannerisms and his disinterested demeanor, he’s tough to read and you really can’t afford to let a rift come between you when you still have to work on your project.

Your lips part to say something but one striking glance from those crimson eyes has the words dying in your throat. Your mouth goes dry as you wrack your brain for anything to stay, but draw a blank.

Sukuna’s brow knits together at the sight of your anxious expression and he shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing.

It takes him a moment to fully cool off and collect his thoughts, but he can see in your eyes that you genuinely meant no harm and he supposes it’s the right thing to do to give you a break for that. You’re just naturally kind and he finds that he needs to remind himself of that.

“It’s… fine,” he murmurs in a strained voice, nudging you with his elbow. You crack a smile at him, thankful when his body language seems to relax somewhat again.

You don’t dare say anything as you wait for your food, fiddling with your phone in your hands as you contemplate his reaction. You obviously hurt his pride unintentionally by offering to pay, but between skipping school for work and the fact that this restaurant isn’t by any means expensive, you have a guess as to why he might have been so affected, one that makes Sukuna’s entire demeanor and his exhaustion click into place like a puzzle.

Before you have a chance to ask him, unsure if you even want to, your name is called and Sukuna is grabbing your order. You reach out to grab one of the bags but Sukuna swiftly holds it overhead with a smirk that doesn’t quite meet his eyes as you pout playfully. He continues to hold the food overhead as he leads the way outside. Watching you trail closely behind him, standing up on your tiptoes in an attempt to reach the bags, he raises a brow.

“Walk, brat.”

You shoot him a look, brow furrowed, before giving in and falling into step alongside him. He brings his arms down, holding the bags on his arms opposite you.

With your mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Sukuna’s earlier outburst, you bring your lower lip between your teeth, mindlessly chewing on it as you stare at the sidewalk beneath your feet.

Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals, taking note of the way you’re deep in thought. “Just fucking ask your question.”

Much like yesterday, Sukuna easily notices the way you glance at him uncertainly, the question on the tip of your tongue. It catches you off-guard how easily he reads you and you fall out of step with him, taking longer strides to catch up after you falter.

“I- um- do you-” you hesitate, casting a glance at his aloof expression. He seems at ease again and you don’t want to burn the bridge you’ve only just managed to mend, out of fear that another fire wouldn’t be put out so easily.

“Yeah.”

You stop in your tracks, blinking in surprise with pursed lips. Sukuna raises a brow at you, only a short distance ahead as he stops too, turning to face you. You can’t read his expression as it remains mild, his questioning brow the only sign that gives away any hint of his thoughts. In a few short strides, you’re back at his side.

“You’re… their guardian?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Sukuna chews on his tongue piercing mindlessly as he watches the gears turn in your mind, putting together the pieces of the puzzle that had been laid out for you.

Of course Sukuna’s tired if he’s taking care of two young boys, going to college, working, cooking, cleaning, god the list can only go on. You wonder if the reason he seems so at ease right now, so quick to forgive you, is because he’s thankful for the break. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s had time to himself.

“That’s why you missed yesterday.”

He shrugs. “You knew that already.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your turn to shrug. “I just thought it was a temporary thing.”

Sukuna lets out a humorless laugh. “Well it’s not.”

You’re not really sure how to react, in all honesty. You don’t want him to think you pity him, you can’t offer sympathy, you certainly can’t offer help. In your uncertainty, you find yourself continuing to fiddle with your phone, avoiding his gaze.

Sukuna quite simply… turns to leave, deciding to spare you of your discomfort, and him of any more blows to his pride. You jog after him, falling into step again. There are questions left unanswered and sympathies you want to extend, but you can’t bear the thought of hurting him again, even if it’s unintentional, so you bite your tongue.

The sounds of the city surround you, filling the silence. Sirens blare in the distance, trees rustle above you, and casual chatter comes and goes as you pass other groups of people on the way to your apartment. It’s all a welcome distraction as you continue to fiddle with your phone, the air between you two neither tense nor comfortable. It lies somewhere in between and you don’t dare tip the scales out of fear of making your counterpart uncomfortable.

“You play a lot of Pokemon growin’ up?”

Your eyes light up as Sukuna starts a conversation, finally tipping the scales back towards being comfortable.

“My best friend growing up really liked it, we played a lot of Ruby and Sapphire.”

“Same as the brats.” He scoffs playfully.

“Are you gonna pretend that isn’t your old GameBoy?”

He tilts his head in your direction, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “And if it is?”

“Dunno, I might think you’re a bit of a nerd,” you tease, mindlessly chewing on your lip.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker down to your lips. He catches himself immediately, averting his gaze. “Tch.”

You giggle when he doesn’t refute your claim. He shoves his hands back into his pockets, your takeout bags dangling from his forearm.

As you arrive back at your apartment, Sukuna lets you unlock the door before grabbing and holding it open for you. His eyes trace your figure as you tread ahead of him with a skip in your step. When you turn back to him, realizing he hasn’t followed you yet, he blinks in surprise as he realizes exactly what he’s doing, shaking his head to clear it.

Why in the hell was he checking you out anyway? He doesn’t make a habit of hooking up with people who know him beyond face value. He mutters a ‘sorry’, relieved when you don’t seem to notice the way he’d so shamelessly checked you out.

Closing the door behind him, he sets the food on the table, tossing his jacket aside as you call his brothers, setting up a little dinner around your coffee table. Sukuna groans as he slips down onto the floor to eat, remaining quiet as he simply watches the way you cheerfully entertain both of his brothers’ antics.

Shoveling rice into his mouth, Sukuna stares down at his curry, contemplating the strange sense of warmth blooming in his chest. The feeling is so unfamiliar to him that he can’t place it. He has half a mind to drown the emotion in nicotine and the need to smoke grows quickly.

He’s so preoccupied in his thoughts, Sukuna doesn’t realize his little brothers have both run off back to your room, leaving the two of you alone.

“S’kuna?”

Striking pupils suddenly meet yours. He straightens from where he sits across from you on the couch, taking notice of the fact that you’ve already finished your dinner.

“Are you alright?”

Sukuna nods. “‘M fine.” Yet he can’t help but to drink in the sight of you, the way you look at him with so much care and he can’t understand why, the way your lips move so softly when you speak. The way your figure and curves would feel under his hands, the way you keep biting your lip… Sukuna shakes his head suddenly, getting to his feet as he chalks it up to lust. He’ll get over it at the next party he goes to. “Balcony?” He asks suddenly, pointing at the door at the back of your apartment.

You nod, watching in confusion as he rises suddenly and rushes out the door, pulling out a box of cigarettes. You hum to yourself, deciding to give him a moment. You’re not sure exactly what came over him, he seemed flustered even if only for a moment, but there was something else you noticed in his eyes, something darker you couldn’t identify.

Pushing that aside, you put the lid back over his food to keep it warm and check your phone to find Shoko’s been trying to reach you to go pick up your car. You let her know you’ll have to pick it up tomorrow since you’re with Sukuna as you wait for him to finish smoking.

After a few messages back and forth, you glance back outside at Sukuna. The way the muscles along his back ripple just from the act of breathing is eye-catching enough, but when he stubs out his cigarette and leans over the railing of your little balcony, your eyes trail to his shoulder blades protruding from the white material of his shirt.

Catching yourself holding your breath, you take a step forward and decide to check on him, closing the balcony door in your stead as you slip onto the small overlook behind him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you even as you lean beside him, his tired expression fixated on the street below. You rest a hand on his bicep as you tilt your head quizzically. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Ever aloof, you aren’t able to tell what he’s thinking as he turns to look at you. You, completely unaware that your touch has set his skin alight. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes have darkened a shade as his pupils dilate at your touch. Unsure what’s come over him, he simply hums affirmatively as an answer to your question.

Your brow knits together but you accept his response. He wonders if you know that you’re rubbing circles into the skin of his bicep and it’s driving him crazy. What the hell is it about you that’s got him horny like it’s his first year of college again? It frustrates him beyond belief, but maybe it’s just been too long since he’s slept with someone. That has to be it. It’s just lust. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the action when you finally bring your attention out to the road in front of you both, removing your hand from him.

“Hey, um, what do you do at the supermarket?” You ask in an effort to create conversation with him.

“Stock,” he replies shortly, his tone as stoic as his expression.

“That’s not too bad,” you murmur thoughtfully, giggling to yourself suddenly. Sukuna’s brow raises. “Sorry, I just can’t imagine you as, like, a cashier or something.”

“Why not?” He sneers, standing up straight and facing you, offended.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you’re not very talkative.”

“I can be,” he insists, taking a step towards you.

“Is that your way of proving it?” You provoke him with a grin.

He scoffs. “I just don’t have anythin’ to say,” he grumbles with a tense jaw, staring down at you. “‘Sides, I work with customers at my other job.”

Another job? You frown at his admission. How the hell is he managing this? How hasn’t he flunked out? “What other job?”

“Mechanic,” he states blandly.

“Really? Are you a big car guy?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Sukuna’s somewhat taken aback by the way you lean in, your full attention directed towards him. You seem to take such a genuine interest in him and he isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

A smirk plays at the corners of his lips as he decides to mess with you, loving the idea of keeping you on your toes and pushing your buttons. “Nah. ‘M just good with my hands,” he drawls as you present him the perfect opportunity to tease you back given how much of a hard time you’ve been giving him.

Your eyes widen at his euphemism, cheeks heating up as you grip the balcony railing harder. You avert your gaze in an attempt to save face, willing your heart to slow down to no avail.

You clear your throat. “I-I um, th-that makes sense,” you stammer, mentally facepalming at just how nervous your words come out. He has no right to be this hot.

“Not so talkative now, are ya?” He chuckles lowly, sliding from his position leaning on the railing beside you to rest his opposite hand on your other side, effectively trapping you.

You flip over to face him, leaning back against the railing with pursed lips. Sukuna grins at your mousey behavior, thrilling in the way you squirm trapped between him and the railing. “Sukuna?”

His heart pounds in his chest at the sound of his name coming from your lips and his smirk falters. Why the hell is his heart beating so fast? He forces his smirk again, moving his face down to your level in an effort to push away the strange feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach. “Yeah, woman?”

Focusing on anything other than the man in front of you, you can only manage to mumble out a few ‘um’s and ‘uh’s. Sukuna chuckles at just how flustered you are, freeing you from the cage of his arms as he rests against the railing beside you again.

You clear your throat, trying to ignore your spiraling thoughts. And boy are they ever spiraling as you stare out at the street beneath you, attempting to focus on the passing cars and not your pounding heart. “Why are you in Art History?”

Sukuna’s lit another cigarette in the time that you’ve used to recover your thoughts. He looks calmer once again as smoke spirals from the glowing embers. “Required class.”

“R-Right.” You swallow, moving past your stammer. “What do you want to do?”

He pauses for a moment, taking a languid drag from the cigarette. A puff of smoke leaves his lips before he replies. “Dunno. I’m a history major.”

You wouldn’t have imagined the college’s resident bad boy to be a history major, if you’re being honest with yourself, but you remind yourself not to judge a book by its cover.

He runs a hand through his hair as you contemplate the idea of Sukuna as a history major and what he might do with that major given that you can’t envision him as a historian or a museum curator, and certainly not as a teacher.

“I’m thinking of swapping majors,” he admits. You examine his expression as he taps the edge of the cigarette with a finger. He shrugs, shifting his gaze to stare at the sidewalk beneath the both of you. “Starting to think history doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, what do you want to do, Sukuna?”

He casts you a glance, examining your attentive face. You’re so wholly invested in his words that it causes a pang in his chest. He subconsciously brings a hand up to his chest, scratching at it as if to cast the strange feeling away.

Setting the feeling aside, he finds himself scowling in thought. When he was considerably younger he’d wanted to pursue graphic design but he hadn’t had the luxury of thinking about his future for a while now. In truth, he’s not even sure why he’s in history right now. It interests him enough to keep him attentive but the career options are… few and far between and he can’t exactly afford to fuck around and swap majors constantly.

His minor in business makes more sense, at least he can do something with it, but… in truth, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s another page filed under ‘uncertainties’ in the book that is Sukuna.

You take his silence as an answer and shoot him a wry smile. “You don’t have to answer, I’m sorry to pry.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs. “I just dunno that either.”

Admitting to it feels shameful, almost, and frankly, Sukuna thinks he’s had enough of making a fool of himself in front of you today. Stubbing out his cigarette, he stands up and makes his way back inside. You follow after him, blinking as he begins packing up.

“I should go,” he mumbles, shutting his laptop and tossing it into his bag. He picks up his keys from your desk, shoving them in his pocket as he zips up his backpack. “Oh,” he stops his movements, hesitating for a moment. “I… Appreciate dinner.”

Your expression softens and you smile wholeheartedly. “No problem. You can take your leftovers, too. They’re still on the table,” you point over to the box you’d set the cover over. He nods, shutting it and tucking it in his bag as well.

With a tired sigh, he gathers his brothers, ushering them towards the doorway.

“Got anything to say?” Sukuna utters, staring down at both kids expectantly.

“Thank you!”

“Thank you, miss!”

You grin at both kids, kneeling down. “I hope you two had fun. You know, maybe you can convince your brother to come over again and I’ll pull out my old GameCube.”

With the expressions of jaw-dropping awe you’re getting right now, you would think you’d revealed to them the secret to happiness or something. Yuji leaps into your arms immediately, nearly toppling you over as he shoots a pleading stare at Sukuna.

Sukuna’s expression shifts to one of irritation as Yuji pleads with him, “Kuna! Pleeeease pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” that has you giggling at the way a vein in his forehead seems to pulse.

“Brat. Brat! Shut up, I’ll think about it, alright?”

Yuji nods cheerfully, counting straight to Sukuna’s leg to hug him, and the clear irritation on your classmate’s face immediately falters. Maybe he’s a bit of a softie after all.

Sukuna sighs heavily, reaching a long arm down to ruffle his brother’s hair. “Yeah, alright, kid. If she invites us.”

His voice is tired, albeit strangely soft. It’s almost like he’s a different person, and suddenly you can see why it is that he’s pulling such a terrible schedule. Despite the clear stress being a twenty two year old parent to two young kids is, he clearly loves them.

But this is Sukuna we’re talking about, so he doesn’t always know how to express that.

It’s sweet, really, and your heart melts at the sight.

“Go wait outside, you two.” Both kids run down the hall to the elevator as they excitedly ponder what games you might have, leaving you and Sukuna alone as he leans on the doorframe.

“You free next Saturday?” You ask once his attention returns to you.

“I can let you know. Depends on the auto shop’s schedule.”

“We can always do another day, whatever works best for you, Kuna.” Your voice holds a teasing lilt as you mimic Yuji’s entirely too adorable name for him.

“Don’t start with that,” he snarls, mumbling something about the name being annoying. Before turning to walk away, he decides to pay you back for all of your teasing with a jab of his own. “Don’t make a habit of getting oil dumped on you, yeah?”

What Sukuna isn’t expecting is for you to be able to match his teasing without a second thought. “What, I can’t email you for help?”

He snorts, smirking at the ground as he pushes himself off of the doorframe and begins to turn away. “See you around,” he says, raising a hand in farewell as he follows after his two brothers. Your eyes trail curiously after him until he’s out of sight, shutting and locking the door quietly.

In truth, you don’t expect to hear from him until maybe next Friday if you’re lucky, but to your surprise when you check your email later that night, your inbox has a new email from Sukuna. It’s still funny, to think that you’re communicating via email, but at least you aren’t giggling to yourself as you open this one.

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:04 AM brat stole your gameboy. meet at the fountain at noon monday

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:23 AM That’s alright!! He can keep it :)

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:27 AM no he needs to learn. noon at the fountain

With a sigh, you realize he isn’t about to relent and give in.

[email protected] - Sunday, 12:28 AM Okay I’ll see you then Kuna lol

And oh if you could see the way Sukuna is guffawing and huffing at his screen, slamming his laptop shut as you call him the nickname he doesn’t want anyone to know. Yet here you are, barging into his life on all fronts and learning more about him than he wants.

The way his heart stutters, it actually stutters when he sees his inbox go up by a notification because he just knows it’s you and fuck why is it actually cute when you use that nickname?

Sukuna rubs a hand over his face and pulls his comforter up over his shoulder, sinking into the plush of his mattress as he tries to get some rest before his shift the next morning. He’ll deal with his other issues later.

main masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

❦ a/n ; hello!! thank you so much for reading i've been having an absolute blast with this. i've been working on this for a long time and it was initially intended to be about 25k, but after working on it for a month straight it hit that pretty quickly and i'm nowhere near done. aaaanyways, thanks for all the love and support and as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated <3

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

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earthtooz · 2 years ago

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cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ earf's ideas that i'll never write #earthtooz: honkai star rail #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr. ratio x reader

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lightsoutmatthews · 2 months ago

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hey jo! your writing is such a great escape, you’re so talented! i have a dramatic request: reader has only met auston’s family a handful of times—like this is very new territory for them. she overhears auston’s sisters talking about her, so she starts coming up with excuses not to see them. auston gets mad thinking she doesn’t like his family, but reader doesn’t want to say what is really going on. this leads to a fight with auston and reader, but with a happy ending between everyone please (sisters included). i know you can bring this drama to life 🙏🏻🙏🏻

I loved this request, sometimes it´s so nice to have a direct vision compared to just a one sentence request (not that I don´t like them 🫣)

What wasn´t said – Auston Matthews

Meeting Auston´s family for the first time felt like being dropped into someone else´s dream.

You knew how important they were to him. How tight knit he and they were but until you were actually standing on the front steps of his childhood home on Scottsdale, you didn’t realize just how intimidating that closeness could be to a newcomer.

He had been sweet about the invite, casual even.

“My mom is doing a little get-together Saturday, nothing big. You in?”

You had smiled and nodded, hiding the nervous twist in your stomach.

At this point you had been dating for a few months, you had gotten to know most of the important people in his life that lived in Toronto, his teammates, their partners, team staff, his management team, but this was new territory.

You wanted to make a good impression, not just for Auston, but because a part of you wanted them to like you. Really liked you. As much as he did.

The Matthews´ house was beautiful. Open, filled with light, a giant backyard that backed onto the desert.

His mom, Ema, was warm right away. She kissed your cheeks, offered you homemade lemonade and told you to make yourself at home.

His dad was quieter but equally as kind, asking about your job, your family and where you grew up.

Then there were his sisters Alexandria and Breyana.

They were beautiful. Put-together. Confident.

You could feel the closeness between them and Auston immediately. Instant jokes, casual teasing, glances that didn’t need explanation.

You couldn’t help but feel like a spectator trying to step into a movie halfway through as you watched their sibling dynamic.

They greeted you politely, not unkind, but not warmly either.

Alexandria, the older one, made a bit of small talk. She asked how long you had been dating Auston and what you did, but her tone was cool.

Breyana was chattier but distracted, like she had one eye on the conversation and the other one out of it.

You tried to stay positive. Helped Ema in the kitchen, complimented the backyard. You even asked Breyana about her earrings when she sat beside you. She said thanks and then got up to join Alexandria by the pool.

Later that evening, Auston put his arm around you while you both watched his cousins toss a football around.

“They like you,” he said, smiling.

You forced a small smile back. “You think so?”

“Yeah, my mom said you were so sweet.”

That part you believed but his sisters? You weren’t so sure.

Over the next few weeks, you met them a few more times. Dinners, game nights, little family things Auston included you in.

Each time you showed up with a bottle of wine or dessert, smiled even when you felt awkward, laughed at the jokes you didn’t fully understand.

But each time, you still felt like you were knocking on a door that wouldn’t open all the way.

---------------

The confirmation happened at a late-summer barbecue at Auston´s parents´ house.

It had been a hot, dry afternoon. The pool was open; drinks were flowing and the air smelled like grilled burgers and sunscreen.

You had spent the last hour chatting with Ema and Auston´s aunt on the patio, sipping lemonade and trying not to overthink every word that came out of your mouth.

At some point, you realized your phone wasn’t in your bag.

You excused yourself and headed inside to look for it.

The living room was empty, music drifting in faintly from outside.

You started to retrace your steps. Checked under the throw pillows, the coffee table and even the guest bathroom but there was nothing.

As you moved toward the hallway where the bedrooms were located, you heard voices coming from one of the rooms. Alexandria´s you thought.

The door wasn’t fully shut.

“…like, I don’t want to be a bitch,” Breyana said, her voice low but clear.

You froze. Instinct told you to walk away, but something held you in place.

“It´s just weird,” she continued. “She barely talks to us. It´s like she´s afraid to say the wrong thing, so she doesn’t say anything.”

“She´s so… I don’t know, careful?” Alexandria replied. “Too careful. It feels fake sometimes.”

“She acts like she´s sweet but it´s all too polished, like she rehearsed it in the mirror or something.”

You pressed your back against the wall, your throat tightening.

Alexandria sighed. “Honestly, I don’t get it. Auston could have anyone. What does he even see in her?”

“Probably someone who loves the NHL lifestyle,” Breyana said with a dry laugh. “He´s always been a magnet for that.”

The words landed heavy. Your chest ached.

“I´m not saying she´s awful,” Breyana added. “She´s fine, I guess but I don’t think she fits.”

You didn’t wait to hear more.

You backed away, heart pounding, and ducked into the guest bedroom.

Your phone was on the dresser, right where you had left it when you changed into your swimsuit.

When you returned to the kitchen, your face was calm, but your stomach churned. You smiled and told Ema you weren’t feeling well. Migraine. You were so sorry.

Auston offered to drive you back to his place, but you insisted you would be okay. He kissed your cheek and told you to text when you got home.

You cried in the car. Not big sobs, just quiet tears that slipped down your face and dried before you pulled into your driveway.

You didn’t tell him what you heard. At least not then.

---------

After that day, something shifted.

You couldn’t bring yourself to face them. not Alexandria´s cold glances or Breyana´s forced smiles.

Every time Auston mentioned a family dinner, your stomach turned.

So, you started to make excuses.

At first, they were believable.

Work deadlines. Friend commitments. A minor cold. Auston didn’t question it. He told you to rest, that he would catch up with you after.

But as the weeks passed, the reasons got thinner.

You declined three events in a row. Then skipped his mom´s birthday dinner entirely.

You told him you had a scheduling conflict, but the truth was you sat on your couch in sweats, watching TV and feeling ashamed.

You weren’t angry at his sisters. You were hurt. Embarrassed.

You hadn’t done anything to deserve that kind of judgement when they had met you all of three times before that.

The worst part was that you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Auston. Not because you didn’t trust him or because you thought he wouldn’t believe you.

You didn’t want to make things awkward for him. You didn’t want to be the girlfriend who came between him and his sisters.

Still, the distance between you and Auston grew.

He started noticing the little things. “You´ve been avoiding them,” he said one night after dinner.

You barely looked up from your empty plate. “I´m not.”

“You are. You always say no to the invitations now.”

“I´ve just been busy, you know how work can be.”

“Too busy to come over for dinner and spend two hours with my family?” he shot back.

Your silence answered him, but he didn’t push that night. Still, you could feel the questions behind his eyes.

And soon enough, his patience started to fade.

-------------

It was a Sunday afternoon when it all boiled over.

You were supposed to go to his parents´ for brunch. He had even bought you a new dress the week before, teasing that his mom would love it on you.

But that morning, you said you felt off. A headache, maybe a potential stomach bug. You told him to go without you.

When he came home, you were curled up on the couch. He dropped his keys on the counter and stood there, arms crossed.

“You okay?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah,” you answered absentmindedly.

He nodded slowly. “We need to talk.”

You straightened. “About what?”

“My sisters. My family. You keep pulling away and I´ve let it go because I figured maybe you needed space, but it´s been over a month now and I need to know what is going on.”

You looked away. “Nothing is going on. You´re imagining things,” you said, harsher than expected.

“Bullshit,” he shot back.

You winced at the bite in his voice.

“Did I do something wrong? Did they? Because I´m stuck in the middle here. I´m trying to give you space, but I can´t fix anything if I don’t even know what´s up. I´ve got my mom asking me every time when I show up without you if she did something to upset you and I´m tired of lying to her.”

His voice was harsh, and your heart wrenched at the confession about Ema.

She and Brian were nothing but incredibly nice to you. They had welcomed you with open arms and it was unfair of you to make them collateral damage but at the same time you could not face them while Alexandria and Breyana where there.

You couldn’t take more of their glances and whispers.

His voice softened just a tad when he spoke again. “Do you not like them?”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “No. I mean… it´s not that.”

“Then what?” he said, harsher again.

You didn’t want to argue about it, but you felt like this was the moment you had to come clean, otherwise it would all blow up in your face. “I overheard them.”

He blinked confused. “What?”

“That barbecue a month ago. I was looking for my phone and they were talking in Alexandria´s room.”

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“They were talking about me. Said I put on a fake personality when I was with them, that all I said was like I rehearsed it in front of a mirror. Oh, and that I was probably with you for the lifestyle and that I didn’t fit.”

The room was dead silent.

You finally glanced at him. His face went a little pale with shock.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you said. “I didn’t want to cause drama, they didn’t need any more bad impressions of me, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to defend me. They´re your family after all.

His hands dropped to his sides. “You should have told me. Maybe not there but when I got home that evening.”

“I didn’t want to make you choose between me and them and I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

He stepped closer. “You´re not making me choose but Jesus, I would´ve wanted to know. Of course I would´ve had your back. They´re my sisters, yeah, but they have no right to speak about my girlfriend that way.”

“I know,” you said quietly, tears brimming. “I just… I was scared what would happen if I told you.”

He pulled you in without another word, his arms tight around your waist.

You rested your head on his chest, letting the tears fall.

“I´ll talk to them,” he said into your hair. “I promise.”

---------------

Auston didn’t waste time.

That same evening, he called Alexandria and asked her and Breyana to meet him for coffee the next morning.

You reluctantly offered to come, but he shook his head.

“I need to talk to them first. Just me.”

He returned an hour later, quieter than usual.

He kicked off his shoes with more force than any other day and sat beside you on the couch, running a hand over his jaw.

“Well?” you mumbled.

“They didn’t deny it,” he started, sending another painful pang through your chest. “They remembered what they said and tried to play it off at first, like they were just venting or being protective of me.” He sighed.

You bit your lip. “And?”

“I told them it wasn’t okay. That they hurt you and that if they had concerns, they could´ve come to me. But talking behind your back like that? That´s not how we do things.”

You stayed quiet, fingers laced in your lap.

“They asked if they could talk to you and apologize.”

Your stomach clenched. “I don’t know if I´m ready for that.”

“That´s okay. You don’t have to do anything, but they want to make it right. I think they realized they crossed a line.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay.”

-------------

Two days later you agreed to meet Breyana and Alexandria at a little coffee shop near Auston´s house.

You got there early and sat by the window, tapping your foot until they walked in.

Alexandria looked nervous. That surprised you.

“Thanks for coming,” she said as she sat down.

You nodded, arms crossed but still open enough to signal her to continue.

“I want to say this first,” she started. “We were wrong. We judged you way too fast. I don’t have a good excuse for it except… I think I got used to people coming in and out of Auston´s life quickly.”

“Some of them were only around when he was winning,” Breyana added. “When the season was going well, or the press talked about him. And I think we just assumed you were like them because we were used to that.”

You looked at both of them, staying quiet for a second, letting their words settle. “That´s the thing.” You started. “I´ve done nothing to make you think that. You barely know me and you never gave me a chance.”

“I know,” Alexandria said quietly. “And I´m sorry. Really sorry.”

Breyana leaned forward. “We want to start over. Only if that´s something you´re open to of course.”

You paused. Looked at their faces. There was no fake politeness now. Just honest, awkward vulnerability.

“I´m open to it,” you said finally. “But it will take a bit of time.”

“That´s fair,” Alexandria nodded. “We´ll earn it.”

----------

The next few weeks were slow and cautious.

You didn’t jump into family dinners right away, but you started small. Showed up to game nights again, helped Ema prep for a baby shower for one of Auston´s cousins, met for lunch with Alexandria once.

You still felt tense at first, but it slowly faded.

There was a moment at a brunch two weeks later where you and Breyana got caught up talking about a show you both loved. She laughed genuinely and looked surprised.

“Okay, okay. I misjudged you,” she said with a careful grin.

“You think?” you teased.

“I was an ass,” she admitted.

You smiled. “You´re working on it.”

They began including you more organically. Sending memes, asking your opinion about gifts for their mom because “Auston has no clue about that stuff anyways” and invited you to a Pilates class.

It wasn’t perfect but it felt like they were making a real effort.

One night, you and Auston were lying in bed, legs tangled under the sheets, when he kissed your temple and murmured “Thanks for giving them a second chance.”

You turned to him. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

“You´re my person,” he said simply.

---------

Months passed.

The weather cooled. You and Auston returned to Toronto. The season picked up. You found yourself at more and more family gatherings. Movie nights when everyone came for a Leafs homestand, birthdays, even a trip to the lake one-week Auston surprisingly had only one game.

You and Alexandria weren’t best friends, but there was a growing respect.

A shared look when Auston did something ridiculous. A text checking in when she heard you had a rough week from her brother.

Breyana was looser. Warmer. She teased you now with affection, not barbs.

At Thanksgiving, Ema pulled you aside in the kitchen, handing you a bowl of mashed potatoes.

“I´m really glad you´re here,” she smiled.

You smiled back. “Me too.”

Auston came up behind you later, looping an arm around you waist. “You know,” he said, voice close to your ear. “My mom told me yesterday she thinks you´re one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Even after I brought store-bought pie?”

“Even then,” he laughed.

You leaned into him, glancing around the crowded room. His dad was laughing with cousins, his sisters were setting the table together, Ema was calling for someone to grab more wine.

It didn’t feel like you were on the outside anymore.

It felt like you finally belonged.

#auston matthews #toronto maple leafs #auston matthews imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #auston matthews x reader #nhl imagine

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onsomenewsht · 6 months ago

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Jazz for Peanuts

About the time your daughter shows her attitude

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: +1.1k

》 All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt.

Deciding to have a kid with Leah is a no-brainer choice, probably the easiest you ever made in your life.

Never been more sure of anything in your life.

She’s exactly the person you pictured growing a family with. Loyal, passionate, caring. Ready to win any fight for the ones she cares, the ones she loves.

The process of having a kid with Leah, however, is anything but easy.

Months of consults, check-ups, exams. Months of doubts and insecurities. Months of waiting out of your power. And for a control freak as the footballer is, those were the worst.

When it finally works, it’s the best feeling ever.

The English captain is over the moon, you’re pretty sure you never saw her happier – you know, you were right by her side when she won the biggest awards of her career, when she promised you forever in front of the most important people in her life.

It’s the best feeling, until the reality of pregnancy hits you like a wall.

It’s up and downs. It’s morning sickness and weird cravings, it’s kind kicks that reminds you there’s an actually living being inside you and painful reminders it’s growing and moving. It’s waves of emotions, all at once and all the time.

It’s a process and you’re glad more than anything that you can go through it with Leah next to you.

Finley comes into your lives loudly, immediately asserting her character and determination.

She surprises the nurses with big, curious eyes and even more impressive lungs. She shows her interest in Amanda’s hair with strong pulls, the same hands that, oh-so-gently, have your hearts wrapped in a thigh grip.

She grows so much and so fast that you end up questioning if such a tiny human being could shape time as she pleases.

Scrappy kicks turn into dangerously fearless tiny steps, and now she runs around the house like the miniature version of an athlete training for some mad competition.

Tiny onesies with animals and Arsenal’s badges turn into colorful and sparkling dresses she wears just a couple of times before she moves on. Now, she apparently inherits her mother’s fashion sense.

Sleepless nights spent crying turn into tantrums over underappreciated lunches, and now she negotiates her screen time like an unfair trial.

Finley is growing into a really determinant, stubborn kid despite being barely tall enough to get on the car seat on her own.

She’s witty, smart, and definitely too cute.

Leah looks at her with a light in her eyes that sparkles just around your daughter, a light that didn’t even exist before Finley.

You may have made her from scratch. Your own organs may have had to find new positions to let her space, but she has your wife’s flame burning inside. It’s something that never fails to amuse you, as annoying as it is sometimes.

Like right now, stuck in North London’s traffic with an inpatient Leah and a bored five-year old daughter in the back seat.

“Finny, my life, can you please stop kicking me?”, the blonde asks, voice over the edge in a way just a kid could get fly over their head.

“I’m not kicking you, I’m kicking the back of the seat”, she argues, as a matter of fact.

You hold a scoff just to not be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Of course, the traffic light turns red exactly when the car is about to run over it, making the defender drop her head in frustration.

The real challenge is fighting the urge to remind Leah you had, indeed, predicted it.

She had to watch the last minutes of Arsenal’s game, so sure it couldn’t be a problem to delay the drive to your mother’s house. And now you’re stuck, traffic laws and any kind of universal rule against her.

You place a comforting hand on her thigh, trying to be a supportive wife.

“Mama, I’m hungry!”

“I know, we’re almost there”

“Not if mom keeps driving this slow”, your daughter mutters, loud enough to be heard by Leah.

“I’m driving as fast as this idiot in front let me”, she grumples in the exact same way, earning a discrete slap for her words choice, “What? You shouldn’t be allowed on the road if you could be faster by walking, it’s not safe”

“Can I have the candies mama hide under the seat?”

Traitor.

“Finny, keep playing with Bear”, you change the subject, avoiding Leah’s raised eyebrow to divert the little girl’s attention to her toy.

“You could let me starve? That’s not really nice, mama, you always say sharing is caring”

A backstabber, your own daughter.

The English defender is the one trying to suppress an amused laugh now, guessing she’s not in the position to piss you off more, “Finny, it will ruin your appetite, granny made your favourite pasta”

“My appetite is already ruined. It’s taking so long granny’s gonna be dead when we get there”

“Finley!”

“What? You’re pretty old, and granny is even older! She keeps saying she’s ready to reunite with grandad anyway”

You need to have a serious conversation with your mother about the things she says in front of a smart kid that soaks up knowledge like a sponge.

Right now, though, Leah must be the proper adult as you’re trying your best not to burst laughing.

It’s inappropriate, the way you’re both reacting at the witty remarks of a five-years old girl who needs help to brush her teeth but apparently has no issues at roasting her entire family.

You can’t let her realise how clever and funny you think she is. It’s going to make her unstoppable - and insufferable.

Finley shows every sign of listening and understanding the lecture on being patient and gentle with her words that you and Leah are trying to give her. Two adults more troubled with getting a grip on themselves than with their kid’s attitude.

You just know she’s going to use it against you at the first opportunity.

“Fine, I’ll play nice”

It seems to get better after that.

The slowest car ever been on the road finally makes a turn and allows your wife to goose the engine, mother-in-law reassured over the phone for the second time.

Your daughter is calmer, still kicking the back of the seat, but reassured either granny or her are going to die anytime soon.

You, on the other hand, are debating if you could get through it all over again, knowing this is what your life with Leah and Finley looks like.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“How long?”

And, just like that, peace is over.

“Five more minute”

“You sure?”, the kid asks your wife, doubtful but innocently enough.

“I said five more minute, Finny”

It’s coming, she is preparing for the final blow.

You know it’s coming.

Finley waits a moment, then screams, “Siri, start a five minute timer!”

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso #woso community #woso imagine #here we go again #just a little thing for you #my wo(rd)so #waiting in line

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serelume · 2 months ago

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What kind of flirt are they? {Izuku, Bakugo, Shoto}

I’m always a fan of headcanons. They’re kinda my specialty. mostly fluff. wc: 1,698

Izuku Midoriya

He doesn’t flirt to impress. He doesn’t even realize he’s flirting half the time.

But it’s in the way he looks at you like he’s studying a star that wandered too close to Earth. It’s in the way he listens, really listens, as if your words are as important as strategy, as sacred as heroics. There’s no guile to him. No suave games. He is all stammering heart and kind hands, and that alone makes him dangerous in the quietest way.

He sees the small things no one else catches: how you tap your foot when you’re nervous, how your quirk strains your shoulders by the end of training. He’ll casually offer advice – not to show off, but because he genuinely cares.

“Um, hey… sorry, I noticed your arm was trembling a bit after that last hit – do you want me to show you a stretch for it? I think it might help take the pressure off.”

You didn’t think anyone noticed. But he did. Of course he did.

Izuku flirts with his actions – not his words. He remembers your favorite sports drink. Always carries extra bandages, just in case. He’ll sit beside you during lunch without a word, just offering quiet company until you speak first.

He’s the boy who brings you your notebook when you forget it. Who lingers after sparring just to make sure you’re not limping. Who hands you a water bottle without meeting your eyes and says, soft:

“Thought you might need this… I noticed you were getting a little flushed.”

He’s not trying to impress you. He’s just being Izuku. And somehow, that’s worse for your heart.

When he does compliment you, it’s not smooth – it’s a small explosion of flustered truth.

“You looked– uh, really cool back there. I mean, your form – your stance, I–I thought it was great! Not that I was watching you the whole time or anything! Just… I, um… noticed.”

And he’ll try to walk it back, cheeks red, fingers fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. But even then, he won’t lie. His voice might be trembling, but his heart? Solid steel. He meant what he said.

There are moments when he forgets to be nervous. When you catch him off guard – laughing at something he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him and not through him – he’ll go completely still.

And then, without thinking:

“I really like your laugh.”

Just like that. Soft. Blunt. Barely above a whisper. It leaves him frozen afterward, panicked over whether that was okay to say, but it’s too late – his heart slipped through the cracks.

He doesn't realize how often he looks at you. How his eyes linger a second too long. How he watches you smile like it’s something sacred, something he’s been entrusted with. When you glance his way and catch him?

He’ll look away – fast. Scratch the back of his neck. Blush a deep pink.

But next time? He’ll still look.

Because he can’t help it.

He’s not trying to sweep you off your feet. He’s just curious – genuinely.

He asks about your favorite music. What kind of food you like. Your goals. He gets quiet when you talk about the things you love – not because he’s zoning out, but because he’s memorizing them.

“I didn’t know you liked space documentaries. That’s… really cool. There’s this one with All Might narrating – I could find it if you want to watch it sometime.”

He doesn’t realize it, but he’s inviting you in. Not just to a moment. To himself.

Izuku isn’t a flirt in the traditional sense. He’s the type who makes you feel seen. The one who remembers. Who holds space for you. The kind of boy who’ll be standing quietly at your side when everything else is falling apart.

He won’t sweep you off your feet with charm but he’ll anchor you with kindness.

And one day, when your heart stumbles in his direction, it won’t be because he chased you.

It’ll be because he never once tried to change who he was to earn your affection.

Bakugo

Bakugo doesn’t flirt. No, seriously. He doesn’t know how. He thinks the entire idea of “flirting” is idiotic, and if you suggest he’s doing it, he’ll deny it like it’s treason.

But gods help him – he does it anyway. Not with sweet words or obvious moves, but with quiet protection, sharp glares meant for everyone but you, and gruff, gritted-teeth affection that sneaks past his walls before he can stop it.

You won’t catch him staring. You’ll catch him looking away too fast.

If you smile at him too long? Compliment him? Say his name with just a little too much softness?

“Tch—don’t look at me like that.”

Jaw clenched. Eyes averted. Ears burning.

You hit a nerve and he hates that you can do that.

(He loves that you can do that.)

He doesn’t bring you flowers – he’ll body the guy who made you uncomfortable. He won’t say, “Are you okay?” – he’ll shove a water bottle into your hand with a snarl and a look that says don’t argue.

“You looked like you were gonna pass out, dumbass. Hydrate.”

Not romantic? Maybe not. But your heart still stutters.

Bakugo’s love language is proximity. If he walks beside you, if he lingers after training instead of storming off, if he slows down just enough to match your pace – that’s his version of flirting.

He may not say it, but if he’s choosing to stay? He’s already saying everything.

He’ll never straight-up say you're amazing. He’ll just… grumble about how you better keep up, then get pissy when someone else underestimates you.

“She’s not weak, dumbass. Try her again and see what happens.”

Then act like he didn’t just go to verbal war for you.

He keeps it together – barely – when you're talking to him.

But the moment you turn away? Shoulders tight. Eyes dart to the side. Lips twitch. And – if you're lucky – he lets out this barely-there, sharp breath through his nose, like he's trying to suppress how ridiculously attractive he found whatever you just did.

He keeps his distance until he doesn’t. If you’re tired, stressed, hurting – he knows. He always knows. He watches from across the room, corners, rooftops, shadows.

Not in a creepy way. In a I’ll die before I let anyone else hurt you way.

He’ll never ask you to rely on him. He’ll just be there, whether you want him to be or not.

One day, when the tension finally snaps, he’ll growl something under his breath like:

“You make my brain fuckin’ hurt.”

Pause.

“…But I don’t want you to stop.”

Then shove his hands in his pockets and act like he didn’t just light your whole world on fire.

Bakugo doesn’t flirt with charm. He flirts with intensity. With lingering looks when he thinks you’re not watching. With the way his tone softens just slightly when it’s you. With rough words that still manage to sound like care.

He’s not sweet. But he’s real.

He’s not kind. But he’s loyal.

He’s not romantic. But if he’s falling for you, he’ll protect your heart like it’s the only thing in the world worth saving – even from himself.

Shoto Todoroki

Todoroki doesn’t flirt the way most people expect. He doesn’t tease. He doesn’t compliment easily. But his focus, his gentleness, and the intensity of his attention? It’s magnetic.

He flirts like someone who isn’t sure if it’s okay to feel but wants to try anyway.

When you speak, he listens. Fully. Not half-hearted, not distracted. His mismatched eyes are locked on you, brows slightly furrowed, as if everything you say deserves consideration.

“Hm. That’s interesting. No one’s ever explained it like that before.”

He doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t rush you. He makes you feel heard. That’s his version of flirting.

And you feel seen, like really, soul-deep seen.

He doesn’t play around with charm or small talk. If something about you strikes him, he says it – flatly, but sincerely.

“Your laugh is nice. It makes me feel… warmer.”

He doesn’t even realize that’s a bold thing to say. He’s just being honest.

Dangerously honest.

Shoto’s love language is presence. You’ll find him quietly appearing beside you: during lunch, after patrol, on the way home. No announcement. No need to speak.

He just… shows up. Walks beside you. Breathes next to you. Never in a rush. Never prying.

It’s quiet. Steady. And deeply comforting.

You’re cold? He offers his warm hand without a word. You’re overwhelmed? He’ll take your wrist and guide you out of the room, expression unreadable but grip gentle.

He won’t ask what’s wrong unless you want to tell him. But he’ll be there. Always.

“You don’t have to talk about it. But if you want me to stay… I will.”

That’s not just care. That’s connection.

Unlike Bakugo, he won’t insult you. Unlike Midoriya, he won’t ramble. His compliments are rare but pointed, and never fake.

“You looked strong in that last match.”

He pauses.

“It suits you.”

Short. Measured. But the way he looks at you when he says it? That’s where the meaning lingers.

He watches. Quietly. Closely. And sometimes, he’ll say something that stuns you because it’s so spot-on.

“You always touch your sleeve when you’re nervous. I noticed.”

No teasing. Just fact. But it makes your heart race anyway.

Because if he notices that… what else does he see?

Shoto doesn’t touch casually. A brush of fingers. A hand on your back. His jacket draped around your shoulders. These aren’t throwaway moments.

They’re deliberate.

When he touches you, it’s because he chose to. Because he wants to.

And that carries more weight than words ever could.

Todoroki doesn’t know how to flirt in the traditional sense. But his quiet presence, his unwavering attention, and his gentle honesty draw you in like gravity. He won’t say much. He won’t push.

But when he does speak – when he does look at you a little longer than he should – you’ll feel it like a spark under the skin.

He’s not trying to win you over.

But he’s already halfway there.

#my: stories #My: headcanons #mha headcanons #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #bakugo katsuki #shoto todoroki #fandom: my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x you #mha izuku

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intheupside · 7 months ago

Text

The game has been Crosby’s professional life. It’s who he is and what he talks about. Hockey is his everything. And it’s what matters most to him.

Once or twice a season, when Ray Shero was general manager of the Penguins, he would invite Crosby to his office for a brief meeting that was never brief. “Usually it was about four-hours long. I’d say to Sid, ‘What’s on your mind?’ And he’d say ‘Not much.’ And then we’d talk hockey for hours, usually all afternoon.

“Detailed talk about the game, the team, getting better, training, he has such an active mind. He’s always thinking about everything. He asks good questions. He wants good answers. And often the last thing he thought about — which tells you a lot about Sid — is money.

“One time, just after he signed his second contract in Pittsburgh, I took out a calculator in our meeting. I told him the season was 180-some days long and players got paid by the day. I then calculated how much money he was going to be getting paid each day.

“I slid him the calculator and he said, ‘What?’

“I told him that’s what you’re going to be paid every day.

“He said ‘You’re kidding, right?’

“I said no, that’s the number.

“He just stared at it and said ‘Holy cow. I guess I shouldn’t skip any optional practices.’

“That’s Sid being Sid. It was never about money with him. He’s left a lot of money on the table over the years. But when he saw how much he was making in his first big contract, how much per day, it shocked him. He’d never looked at it that way before.”

When Jimmy Rutherford took over as GM of the Penguins, he made it a point to meet with Crosby almost immediately. “I flew to Pittsburgh to have dinner with him and from the time you shake his hand, and you listen to all his input and all his knowledge, you just walk away and say ‘Wow.’ He’s more special in person than you might have thought he was before you got to meet him.”

“They play their best in the biggest moments,” said Ken Holland. “You saw that with Steph Curry at the Olympics last summer. Ultimately, no matter what the circumstance, Sid drove people to greater heights. It’s not just how they play, it’s how people follow them and jump aboard.”

“How committed are they? How much drive do they have? How motivated are they? How singularly driven are they? It’s not an accident that he scored the Golden Goal. That’s what winners do. And he’s one of the greatest winners of all time.

“Everybody loves Sid. He treats people well. He hangs out with everybody and he’s one of the guys. And the respect level for him, and for the game, is through the roof. When you’re around him you see he’s just a regular person but an extraordinary player.”

Kyle Dubas is in his second season with Crosby in Pittsburgh. Like everyone else who has been around Crosby over the years, he has been taken aback by the dedication he has to practice. “He works daily on the mastery of his craft,” said Dubas. “And he takes nothing for granted.”

But what has impressed Dubas the most is the way in which Crosby interacts with his teammates on a team struggling to find its way.

“Recently, we were in Anaheim and we have a rookie defenceman, Owen Pickering, who was struggling. Sid is purposely hard on Owen in practice, competing full out against him, not maliciously, just showing the kid how hard he’s going to have to work to compete with him. Sid’s mindset is, I have to do this. If he’s going to get better, I have to do this. The kid got a little frustrated by the practice and you could see it was hard on him. He wasn’t feeling good about himself. The next day, Sid goes and gets the kid and takes him for a haircut. It’s a little gesture but on a team looking to build, it’s an important one. That’s the kind of thing Sid does on a daily basis. The kind of thing most people won’t notice.”

Five years ago, during COVID, the Penguins were upset by Montreal in the preliminary round of the playoffs. The disappointed team flew home from Toronto, where games were being played at Scotiabank Arena without fans.

The team scattered, as teams tend to scatter at the end of every season. Crosby didn’t scatter. He went from the airport to the arena. He wasn’t happy with how the season ended.

He got on the ice and practiced alone that afternoon. That was Sid being Sid.

a good day to have fond feelings about sid

#pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby #owen pickering

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seonghrtz · 20 days ago

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DOG & FEAR.

𝒮 YNOPS𝑖S,ㅤㅤyou are afraid of dogs.

❪ 𝗦𝗨𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗡 ❫ ᡴꪫ clark kent & reader 933 fluff ｡ cw. established relationship not-proofread.

When Clark expressed his desire for you to meet Krypto, his cousin Kara's alien super-dog, who was spending a holiday with him, you thought it might not be a bad idea. After all, what could possibly go wrong? Clark always talked about Krypto, saying that he was a good dog despite his seemingly endless energy. Besides, you began to see the occasion as an opportunity to finally confront your fear of dogs.

However, there was one important detail: you had never told Clark about your fear of dogs. It wasn't because you thought he wouldn't understand and would judge you ⸻ Clark would never do that, intentionally or otherwise. The truth was that it was an irrelevant fear for you; something so trivial that it didn't deserve to be mentioned. Your fear didn't amount to a phobia. It was just a sensation that stirred in the pit of your stomach when a dog came too close. You didn't even know why you were afraid, since you had never experienced anything traumatic involving dogs. But you were determined to get rid of that nonsense fear.

But things didn't turn out the way you'd imagined. Your confidence didn't last two seconds when Krypto flew happily towards you. You ended up running away from the dog and hiding behind your boyfriend's muscular body out of some kind of reflex.

“You're afraid of dogs…” Clark's statement came across as more of a realisation than a question when he turned to you, looking surprised.

“Maybe.” You forced a smile, trying to show that everything was fine and what had happened was no big deal.

For you, it might be irrelevant. It was just a slip, an excess of false confidence to make you feel better and convince yourself that your fear was insignificant and easily overcome. But for Clark? That was a serious matter. If you were afraid of dogs, that wouldn't be a problem for Clark, even if he wanted you to meet Krypto. After all, everyone has their fears and personal limits ⸻ he would never judge or belittle you for them. However, the one thing he disliked was the impression that you had only accepted the super-dog's presence to please him. He would hate it if that were true.

"Why didn't you tell me you were afraid?" Clark asked, approaching Krypto, who was wagging his tail happily and then he put the dog on his lap.

“I thought it was irrelevant.”

“You could have told me. I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“It's all right, Clark. Really. I don't have a phobia of dogs. It's just... Well, I don't even know how to explain it properly.” A sigh left your lips. "It's okay. You didn't mean any harm. I agreed to meet Krypto. I thought I'd put that fear behind me.”

“Well, maybe we should start slowly.” Still with Krypto on his lap, the Kent sat down on the three-seater sofa in the living room and waited for you to approach. Clark smiled and his eyes sparkled as he looked at you. He wanted you to take the initiative at your own pace, without rushing.

You took a deep breath, preparing to approach the man carrying the dog. Your mind was filled with optimistic thoughts and mantras, telling you that you were capable and brave enough to face your fears. And at the back of your mind, a little voice told you that everything would be fine because Clark was by your side, whatever happened. So, with a determined expression, you sat down next to Clark, a short distance from Krypto. Excited by your arrival, the dog tried to free himself from your boyfriend's grasp to come to you, but Clark wouldn't let him leave his arms until you were ready.

Your hand was slightly trembling when you raised it to approach the super-dog. You weren't sure whether it was anxiety or nervousness, but you knew it wasn't fear, because that feeling no longer existed. Not at that moment.

A soft smile broke out on your lips as you ran your fingers through the tangled, soft snow-white fur of Krypto.

“He likes it when you scratch behind his ear…” Clark whispered, as if it were the biggest secret in the world. You laughed at his words, but soon began stroking Krypto behind the ear.

“You can let him go if you want,” you said confidently after a few minutes.

“Are you sure?” Clark asked. He didn't doubt you; quite the opposite. He just didn't want you to rush things just to please him and the dog he was holding.

“Yes,” you smiled. As you stroked Krypto's fur, you realised there was no reason to fear him or any other dog. He was a good dog and you were sure he would never hurt you.

Even before he had been fully released from your boyfriend's arms, Krypto jumped into your lap with joy and began licking your face to finally greet you. You laughed and felt tickled as you stroked and played with him. You couldn't have looked more different from the person who had run away from the super-dog moments before, afraid to get too close to the animal.

Sitting on the edge of the sofa, Clark watched the scene unfold with a genuine smile on his face. You had conquered your fear, and he was happy and proud of this latest achievement. For a moment, he contemplated the scene, committing every second to memory, before finally joining the chaos in the room. He couldn't be happier.

And now Krypto had another friend to play with.

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yourlocalravendork · 7 months ago

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Nerds looks out for nerds

Cw: police being dicks, reader being a total nerd, reader getting cut off mid ramble, Spencer comforting reader, vauge description of a crime scene

A/n: Spencer, especially early seasons Spencer, is literally my spirit animal. Socially awkward, rambling and a huge nerd. I'd kill to ramble to him and have him ramble to me

Flowers were left at the last crime scene. The team, naturally came to the conclusion that it was a show of remorse. They didn't think much more of it. That was until Spencer and you were sent to look at the crime scene.

The body was still there. That caused you to urge a little. Still fairly new to this job, the sight of a body still managed to illicit a nauseous reaction.

"You the FBI?" one of the local police officers asked with a hint of skepticism in his voice, "Aren't you two a little young to be in the FBI?"

"It's not like I've heard that line before," You mumble under your breath. Being young and in the FBI had its perks. However it also came with ignorant cops doubting your ability.

The two of you began your observation of the crime scene. The usual stuff. Blood, broken objects, clues just itching to be discovered. Your mind was racing, analysing every small detail. And Spencer's mind? Well, that was sorting through theories quicker than anyone could comprehend. The body was left inside the victim's house. There was a red cross on the door and flowers in the coat pocket again. It had to mean something. Something that was staring the team in the face. Mocking them. Taunting them.

"Hey, Dr Reid," you called out to him. You were aware you could just call him Reid or even Spencer, but using his honorific seemed like a show of respect to the young doctor. "What kind of flowers are these anyway?" Spencer crouched down and observed them, brow furrowing as his mind ran through the types of flowers it could be.

"There's not one kind of flower. There's multiple. In this case, they could be referred to as a posy," Spencer explained. Then it clicked.

"That's it!" you cried out, "A pocket full of posies!" You got up and rushed towards the door. The red cross, the flowers, it was all making sense.

"I want what they're on," the police officer muttered partly to Spencer.

It seemed like a tiny break in the case. The smallest break could be useful. And it felt like you'd just found it. It was a great feeling. You were practically buzzing on the ride back to the station. Spencer could sense it. He was proud of you. Impressed too. You'd managed to figure out something that was staring the team in the face based on what seemed to be a random historical fact.

"OK," you started, as you presented your findings to the local PD and the team back at the station, "When Dr Reid and I were at the scene of the crime, we looked at the flowers left. Like, really looked at them. Upon further inspection, Dr Reid discovered that they weren't just one type of flower. It was different types. It was too small to be a bouquet so that makes it a posy. Now it's the placement that's important. A pocket full of posies. Like in the nursery rhyme, ring a-ring a roses. The song, it's about the plague. They believed in miasma, bad smells-" Your ramble was cut short by a judgemental police officer.

"Your point?" he asked, a dull, bored and condescending tone laced his voice. Your lips formed a small 'o' before pressing into a thin line.

"Right, my point," you said, quieter than before. As you spoke, you were less animated. You didn't move your hands as much as you weren't as expressive. "What all that points towards is someone with an interest in history. The pocket full of posies, the red cross on the door, all link back to the plague. It also explains the weird looking figure in the security footage. Our unsub was dressed like a plague doctor. It's not out of the realm of possibility that our unsub has a deep passion in history."

After you concluded your little display, you found yourself alone in the room where the team had been working. When Spencer walked in, he could see how dejected you were. He could see himself in you. He knew what it was like to be cut off mid ramble. You were gently rocking in the spinning office chairs when Spencer took the seat next to you.

"Miasma?" Spencer asked quietly. He knew what the theory was. He just wanted you to continue your ramble. Gain your spark back.

"The theory bad smells cause disease," you said with a small nod, "It was one of the main theories of what caused the plague. Obviously now we know that wasn't true and that it was a just a theory." There was more you could've said, but you stayed quiet. You didn't need to be cut off anymore. Spencer frowned slightly. It was clear there was more you wanted to say. You couldn't exactly hide emotions from a profiler.

"So how does that link to flowers?" Spencer knew. He knew everything you were telling him but he was willing to listen. Be the ear to hear your rambles, the one he rarely had for himself.

"Well, they'd combat the bad smells with good smells. That's where a pocket full of posies comes from. They would literally carry around a pocket full of posies," You didn't stop yourself this time, you continued, adding your information as well as getting slightly more animated, "And the plague doctors would put flowers in the end of the beak part of their masks. They'd see it as protection. They actually had a lot of obscure ways to protect themselves from the plague..." You began to ramble, almost forgetting what got you down in the first place. Spencer knew all of this before hand. However he didn't say anything. He knew what it was like first hand to be cut off from a ramble about an obscure fact you found intresting. It had happened to him more times than he could count. So he just sat there, listening intently, letting you talk his ear off while you gained your spark back.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #i love spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

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profilerclra · 8 months ago

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You're just a little bit too much like me | Spencer Reid x Reader

Enemies to lovers | angsty fluff

Word count: 1755

Warnings: Normal criminal minds type of violence, mention of guns and gunshots, age gap (Reader is about 25, and Spencer is in his late 30s)

Content: Spencer being an asshole because he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings and how you remind him of his older self, past Spencer trauma (implied but not directly mentioned), self-doubt, Post prison! Spence

It was a difficult situation, only your second week on the job and the first time you had to make that kind of decision. You went alone to a location where the suspect might have been at, all of your teammates were further away so, as reckless as you now recognize it was, you went there alone, instead of waiting like Spencer and Emily asked you too. You didn't want to lose your chance, there were more than 3 days on the field at stake here, you did not want to disappoint your colleagues and just stand there waiting like a dumb newbie, so you made the decision.

“I'm going in” You warn your teammates in the radio, not waiting for a response before storming into the unsubs house.

You bust the door open with your feet, storming into the house. As you look inside, you find the unsub taking his gun from a drawer. Thinking you had an advantage as his back was facing you, you rush to try and immobilize him, but somehow he managed to turn around and shoot you.

You growled in pain as your body dropped to the ground, just before you passed out completely you heard the sound of rushed footsteps. You heard two voices, one you recognized as Emily's going after the unsub, and the other as Reid's talking to you.

“Please don’t go to sleep, we need you awake” His voice was soothing, far different from the tone he always used with you ever since you joined the team this year, but he sounded so worried, and you really did try to stay awake for him, for your team, to show that you were okay and that they needed to go after what's important, the unsub, but you couldn't. The last thing you heard as your vision got black was him yelling at his radio, “Medical, we need medical right now”. And then, everything went black.

You are now back at your first day on the job. Still at your house, confused as to what outfit you should use, so anxious about being so young at the top team of profilers, even thought it was a last year internship you hoped to impress them enough that they would hire you officially for the team, so your anxiety was through the roof wondering whether you really deserved to be there (goddamn that impostor syndrome). But most of your worries went away when you met the team, you would never imagine that the best profilers in the FBI and maybe in the world would be such good, kind and even funny people. They all welcomed you, seeming excited to be able to work with you, except from one of them.

Doctor Spencer Reid, you had read about him and his genius mind, you even went to a couple of his lectures on forensic psychology, honestly? You were a fan, and you were so excited to meet and work with someone you looked up to. Unfortunately, he didn't seem as eager to meet his new coworker. He just stood there in the back, staring at you while you introduced yourself to the team, the most he did was mutter a “morning” when you sat next to him in the briefing room.

Never meet your heroes, they say.

Now, you're back at… Where are you again?

Your eyes begin to open, you're completely adrift until you finally begin to recognize the awful white light, and the coldness of the room. You're at the hospital, no idea as to how much time has passed.

Jennifer comes into your line of vision, holding your hand, “Hey, how are you feeling?” her voice is calm, as she watches you sit up in the hospital bed.

“I'm fine, I think... I didn't even realize what happened back then. Oh shit, did you guys catch him?” You abruptly try to sit up, remembering how you couldn't get the unsub when you got shot, guilt washing over you as you started to piece together what happened

“Hey slow down, Emily went after him and made the arrest, the victim was rescued. He shot you, but it just grazed you. You did lose a lot of blood, that's why you passed out, but the doctors say you'll be fine to leave today. Don't worry.” She says as the doctor comes in to do his final checking.

You just agree with your head, lost in your own thoughts. You knew it wasn't your fault that you got shot, but still you felt so stupid. The hurt of not being able to catch the unsub might've been even bigger than the one from your wound, all of them had been in even more difficult situations than you and made it out without so much as a scratch, and you couldn't even catch an unsub that was alone?

After a few hours, you were back on the jet, finally heading home. The guilty was still bothering you, and you even apologized for the mistake. Hotch just asked you to be more careful and follow instructions next time, but overall, the team seemed genuinely happy you were fine. Except, of course, for Spencer, who ever since you got in the jet was staring daggers at you.

Later, the jet finally landed, and you were eager to get home. You quickly went to the office to get a few of your things, Unfortunately, you and Spencer were now all alone in an uncomfortable silence waiting for the elevator.

“That was reckless” Spencer mutters under his breath

“I'm sorry, what?” You turn in your heels to face him, had you heard that right? Is that the first thing he's going to tell you after you just got shot?

“What you did on the case, was reckless and naive. You should've followed our instructions, you can't just do what you feel like doing” he's looking in your eye now, his voice coming out angry but with a hint of… worry?

“I'm sorry ok? I tried to do something, I just did not want to just stay there waiting while he could be doing god knows what inside that house” Your voice comes out more shaky than you wanted it to, the weight of the guilt pressing into your chest

“Still, it was reckless and stupid, you should never just storm into, alone, a place where an unsub might be, you never know what he might do to you, what might be waiting inside.” His gaze is cold, almost as if he's not actually here talking to you, but somewhere inside his head and his memories.

“Trust me, I know that. I regret my decision, but I wasn't doing what I felt like, I tried my best, Reid.” You turn to look directly in his eye. Yes you did something wrong, but you wouldn't let him out of all people talk like that to you “I might be the youngest on the team, the one with less experience but trust me… I'm not dumb, I earned my place here.” Your voice shaky when you said that last sentence, the insecurity you felt showing through your words.

Something in his gaze shifted after that, his expression became softer, almost sympathetic. “Listen, I'm not saying you're not qualified, I'm sorry if it came off like that, just be careful… That could have ended a lot worse, trust me I know”

“ I will” The air between you two less intimidating now but still heavy with tension, you two step in the elevator, the whole way to the garage an awkward silence until you two finally reach the bullpen's garage.

Even thought you felt like now maybe he didn't absolutely want you gone from the team, you were still curious as to why he is so cold to you

“Sorry, I need to ask… Why do you hate me?” You turn to him, after finally gathering the courage to ask this question

“What do you mean, don't hate you”

“Yes you do, I mean you're not obligated to like me but since I joined, you didn't even meet me yet and just gave this cold look”

His eyebrows furrowed as he processed your words, clearly taken aback by your directness. He sighed, a hint of regret in his eyes, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's not about you personally," he finally admitted, his voice softer than before.

“What is it about, then?”

He takes a deep breath before starting to talk “You're only 3 years older than me when I joined this team, I know what it does you, to your mind. I guess I just saw way too much of me, of who I used to be, in you, and it terrified me to be honest” His cold facade disappeared completely now, in its place a soft and genuine expression.

“So you were, and I'm sorry for the words, an asshole to me because you were worried?” You almost can't wrap your head around it, all this time you felt like one of your biggest references in the BAU hated you, but instead he was caring for you.

“Yes, I see how it comes out as “asshole” behavior, but my brain just went full shutdown when i saw you” His face turns slightly red when he notices what he just said – Freudian slip or just a bad choice of words? He doesn't's know for sure – His hand goes to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck “I mean… for the resemblance, of how I acted when I had just joined, of course”

You give him a small smile, and just like that your side that has been a fan and read all of this man's articles comes back to life “Of course. Thank you for worrying but maybe instead of hating me you could… I don't know, if it's not too much of a bother of course, help me? I value your worries Doc, maybe you could help me not make the same mistakes you did”

He nodded, a hint of relief washing over his features. "I'd be happy to help," he said, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "I might not have all the answers, but I can definitely share what I've learned along the way."

“I'm happy to hear that, thanks, Doc. Reid” You wave at him as you begin walking over to your car.

“Hey, just call me Spencer” He smiles warmly at you

“See you tomorrow Spencer”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x bestfriend!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds angst

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narrycherries · 9 days ago

Text

woman: a new distraction

Iris makes a questionable first impression on her boss.

(part 1)

woman series

word count: 4.4k

warnings/tags: harry x fem, introductions, alcohol use, sugar daddy h

[a/n: hi, thank you for checking out my new series! I’ve went back and forth with this for weeks and I’m finally happy with the intro chapter. please be kind and gentle with me lol. remember, she has a name but won’t have any description!! the name is just a visual for me that helps me write better. also, this will be less intense than ivy, but enjoy it anyway! see you soon for more!]

The smell of cigarette smoke was thick in the air as she hurried through the break room to clock in for her shift. Someone was smoking a cigarette at the small table. She was sure that wasn’t allowed, but it wasn’t her place to correct it. She was just a minute shy of being late. As her fingers typed in the code, a figure appeared at her side. She sighed when her eyes moved over to see who it was. The manager she didn’t really have a fondness for was standing with her arms crossed and a cold expression slapped on her face.

Iris was only on her second week of her new job, and so far things hadn’t been going the best. Though she hadn’t been late yet, she had cut it close almost every day. The parking situation was horrible and she struggled to find an available spot, even when she would show up ten minutes early.

“Barely made it again, I see.” Melanie, the disapproving manager, was not pleased at all.

“I’m sorry. I was trying to find a spot in the-“

“I don’t care. You have a very important table in your section tonight.”

She furrowed her brows, unsure of the meaning of that. The patrons of this establishment were pretty much considered important every night. When a place caters to a higher social class, the employees are usually expected to treat them like royalty.

“The boss is here. His reserved table is number seventeen in your section. Do not screw up tonight, understand?” Melanie explained with a serious, stern look.

Iris swallowed hard. “I understand, yeah.”

“He’ll be here in an hour. You drop everything when you see him get seated.”

“Right, okay.” She nodded, taking a mental note of that.

While she had never met the boss in person or even communicated with him at all, she knew that he was a very serious person who did not toy with bad service. He was praised for how well his club operated. The standards were high to achieve at times, but the staff was well trained and good at handling things. She was told this when she was interviewed, and she assured the management team she would contribute to this success. So far, she’s had close calls with her clock in time, multiple spilled drinks, and a few literal run-ins with patrons and other employees. This was her last weekend to prove that she could get a grip and improve.

There was a heavy anxious feeling pooling in her stomach as she worked the first hour of her shift. All she could think about was the fact that the boss, a man who she feared despite never laying her eyes on him before, was going to be seated in her section tonight. What if she messed up his drink order? Would he fire her, since he was so callous and rude like she’s been told? Her hands were shaking from her uneasy nerves, but she tried to stay collected. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself tonight, whether it was with a regular customer or with the boss.

There was a bit of curiosity growing, too. She didn’t know much about him, but he was a very wealthy man who owned multiple businesses in the area. The club was just one of his many ventures. From what she was told, he does a wide variety of things that help him accumulate his money. He must be very intimidating.

The club was dimly lit, the majority of the lighting came from the dance floor. The bar was lit with neon signs and low hanging ceiling fixtures. The seating area, where she was stationed to work in the biggest section tonight, was opposite of the bar. Whenever she was walking around, she would glance here and there to try and uncover new details about the place. The back corner made her skin crawl. She knew the security guarded door led to a hallway of private rooms, but nobody had told her what happened in them. She was unsure of it, and she hoped she never found out.

The hour ticked by slowly, but she felt every single second of it. Her tables were being pretty decent with her tonight and treating her like a human instead of a servant. That didn’t make it any easier, though. The anticipation of the boss being in the same room as her was making her feel nauseous. She wasn't sure what to expect. Each time she walked past the table with the reserved sign sitting on it, her stomach would fall to her feet. It was a daunting feeling to know she would have to serve the man who owned the building she worked in.

This was her secondary job that would hopefully help her easily handle her bills every month. The decision to apply here came after she was told the pay was good and the tips were even better. If she could manage to do things right and keep this job, then maybe she could lift the financial worries off her shoulders.

Iris was resting against the opened kitchen door trying to suck in a few deep breaths when Melanie appeared out of nowhere, she was good at doing that.

“Get out on the floor!” She snapped her fingers in front of Iris’s face. “He just walked in!”

Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as she realized she was standing back here longer than she thought. All she could do was nod nervously before running off. She squeezed by a small group of people that were blocking her walkway. Her politeness was ignored, though. As she rushed over to the table, her breathing began to get worse. She could see the hostess and one of the bouncers standing by the table, talking to whoever was there. She gulped harshly, trying to compose herself before approaching the table.

The other employees walked away just as she got to the table. Her eyes moved over the people sitting around the circle, the leather bench now home to a group of strangers. She didn’t recognize anyone. She thought maybe she’d see someone who she’s waited on before, but she was disappointed by the new faces.

One face in particular was staring right at her, his brows set straight on his forehead and his lips in a line. When her gaze fell upon him, she felt her stomach seize up. Something about this man was intimidating and frightful. He had an aura radiating around him, a display of power that convinced her he was the boss.

“Close your mouth before you catch a bug.” He said with a baseline tone.

She licked her lips and sealed them. He glanced around the table, then back to her. The only thought going through her mind was that she had made a horrible first impression and he was going to fire her before the night was over. A lump formed in her throat as he sighed and finally spoke again.

“Bring me my usual bottles.”

Her stomach churned as his request filled her ears. She wasn’t quite sure what the usual was for him. She had never served him before, never even seen him in here. How was she supposed to know? Was she expected to just know that? Was it something she was told on the fist day and she just forgot? Her cheeks were flushing as her eyes darted around the table. She was searching the faces for an answer, but nobody seemed to care enough to tell her.

“Mr. Styles, welcome!” Melanie’s screeching voice sounded over her shoulder, making her flinch.

What scared her more was the confirmation of this man’s identity. This was the boss, and he definitely didn’t look vey pleased with her service. She opened her mouth to say something, but he spoke first.

“Did you hire someone who’s deaf?” His attention directed to Melanie.

She huffed and crossed her arms. “What have you done this time?”

“I-I haven’t.. haven’t done anything.” Iris choked out the words, her heart pounding behind her ribs.

“Have you forgotten how to take an order?”

“I-I don’t know.. what he.. he wants.” Her eyes were locked with Melanie’s.

“You have to ask him.” A deadpan look was given.

“Are you new?” His deep voice made her hands start to gently shake.

Iris turned her head towards him and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckled to himself, waving Melanie off. “Go get our drinks.”

A huff flew from her mouth, but she did as she was told. Iris swallowed hard, trying to pull herself together. She was normally an anxious person, but right now she felt incapable of basic functions.

“Come back after our drinks are brought.”

“Yes, sir.”

She didn’t hesitate to walk away from the table. She knew she had to help Melanie or at least get some kind of scolding, so she searched for her until she saw her at the bar. She was waiting for the order after forcing it as a priority for the bar tender.

“Do me a favor and don’t screw up.” Melanie sighed out as Iris joined her.

“I’m sorry. I.. I didn’t know-“

“I don’t care. Just wait for the mixed drinks. The whiskey is for Mr. Styles.. the martini is for the man sitting across from him.”

Before she could question anything, the bartender met them with a tray of different brands of alcohol. She furrowed her brows at the variety. There’s no way she could remember that if she was told beforehand. Melanie took the tray and left her alone again.

This wasn’t her first waitressing job, but it was definitely one of the hardest jobs she’s ever had. No, it most certainly was the hardest. This place was not like anywhere else she’s been employed. The environment is more intense, the manager absolutely hates her, and the boss might not like her either. She was barely into her shift and tonight has already been so chaotic already.

The bartender handed her the two glasses and she mumbled a thank you, which wasn’t returned in any way. She was used to the rudeness of some of the coworkers and patrons. Not everyone was going to be nice to her all the time, she knew that, but sometimes they could at least pretend to be more cheerful. Iris made her way towards the table, passing Melanie on the way - who still had a displeased look plastered on her face. She took a deep breath and put on a bright smile as she made it to the boss’s table.

She sat the martini down in front of the man she was told to give it to, then she went to sit down the glass of whiskey. Somehow, the glass slipped out of her fingers and toppled over on the table, pouring its contents over the edge onto the white trousers covering the most important pair of legs in the building.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She shrieked out, fear consuming her as she grabbed the stack of napkins off the table and began to wipe up the mess.

“Watch what the fuck you’re doing, bitch.”

Her head shot up as the words were coldly said to her.

“Shut the fuck up. She didn’t do it on purpose.” Mr. Styles raised his voice at the man next to him.

A sigh of relief slipped out of her mouth as she realized he wasn’t the person who said that to her. She dropped her head back down and kept wiping the napkins over the liquid. He held up his hand, insisting she stop. She froze, unsure of what to do. Was she supposed to listen to him or take care of the mess? If it were any other customer, she’d clean the mess up first. But it was her boss, that means she listens to him, right?

“Don’t worry about it.” He told her, lifting his brows as she hesitated to look at him.

“Would you like for me to get you another one?” She asked kindly, trying to hide her anxiousness, but it was obvious she was nervous.

He shook his head. “No, I’ll get it myself. Take everyone’s order.. I’ll put mine in myself.”

“Are you sure? I can get it, it’s no problem!” Iris chirped out, trying her best to make up for her mistake.

“I’m sure.”

When Mr. Styles stood up, she felt her entire body fill with butterflies. He was taller than she expected him to be, his broad shoulders carried a sense of power and confidence she had never been around before. She held her breath as he looked down at her for a few seconds, then excused himself from his group. He disappeared from her view.

“Try not to fuck up our food.” The same man that was rude to her just minutes ago spoke out.

She couldn’t muster up any words, just an understanding nod. Without any more waiting, she grabbed her pad from ehr apron and asked each person what they’d like from the menu. The entire time she was focused on Mr. Styles. She was sure that he was back there complaining to the manager about his service and this horrible employee. There’s no way she’d make it out of here with a job tonight. This was going to be her last time here.

Although the service was definitely not the best he’s ever gotten, he knew that the girl was probably just nervous. He didn’t have to assume it, though, he could see it all over her face and body. From the way her eyes darted around to the movement of her fingers that she most likely wasn't even aware of. He had no intention of being harsh on the girl. Sure, it wasn’t her first night on the job, but it was her first serving him. He imagined that she got some sort of lecture before her shift started about treating his table with the utmost importance.

He pushed the kitchen door open, his eyes scanning for the employee he wanted to speak to. He saw her talking to one of the other waitresses. When she looked up, he got her attention and gestured for her to follow him. She didn’t hesitate. Melanie followed him to the break room. He shut the door and folded his arms on his chest.

“Tell me about the new girl.”

“Which one?” She seemed clueless, which made him roll his eyes.

“My waitress.”

A worried look shot over her face. She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh, god. What did she do? She’s.. she’s not the brightest. She’s clumsy and forgetful and-“

“No, tell me about her. What’s her name?” He cut her off, not wanting to her her complaints.

“She didn’t tell you her name?” Melanie was sure the girl was brainless. What kind of server doesn’t introduce themselves?

“Just answer me.”

“Her name’s Iris. She’s been here for a few days. I don’t know if she’s going to make it past this weekend.” She looked down at her feet, already thinking of how she could let Iris down easily. She didn’t want to crush her dreams, but the reality was harsh. She was going to lose her job.

“Why?”

“She’s been late, she makes messes, she spills drinks, and she just can’t handle this place.” She explained, but her statement wasn’t enough to sway him.

He was used to people being nervous and anxious around him, especially on their first day or early on in their jobs. He runs many different companies and businesses. This was not his first rodeo. Melanie wasn’t around when she spilled the drink in his lap, but he knew telling her would just infuriate her more. He chose to keep it to himself.

“She’s nervous. Give her a break.”

“She shouldn't be that nervous.” Melanie kept her tone fixed to a normal one, the last thing she wanted to do was upset him.

“Don’t fire her.”

“Mr. Styles-“

He held his hand up to stop her from continuing. “If you fire her, I’ll fire you.”

The rest of the night was going somewhat smoothly. Iris had several tables but she made sure to prioritize the one her boss was seated at. He wasn’t there the entire night. Every now and then, she’d look over or come to the table to check on everyone and he’d be gone. She’s seen him walking near the bar, talking to other employees, and just looking around. She wondered what he was doing. Was he observing everyone’s work ethics? Was he watching for mistakes or mishandling of drinks or food? It made her nervous to know he was lurking around, but she remained focused on her tables and tried her best to ignore it.

She noted in her mind that he had been here for almost three hours but he hardly consumed any drinks. He ate some of his food. She wondered if he was not big on drinking and just liked to be around his group of friends. She had a lot of questions and curious thoughts about him that she was positive would never be answered.

“Iris.”

She jumped at the sound of her name being spoken by a deep voice. She turned around, her eyes wide as she saw him standing there. She wasn’t sure how he knew her name, because she hadn’t told him all night. It slipped her mind each time she returned to the table.

“Yes, sir?” She asked with a quiet voice.

“Why are you back here?” He lowered his brows, referring to the break room.

She gulped slowly while her eyes fell down to the floor. “Um, just taking a little break. Just one minute.”

“A break?” He lifted his brows slightly.

Her heart was thumping hard. She was caught slacking yet again. This time it wasn’t a spilled drink or an order she jotted down wrong, it was more serious. She was just caught by her boss taking an unwarranted break while on the clock. Whether it’s ten seconds or ten minutes, she shouldn’t have done it.

“I’m-I’m sorry. I.. I know I’m not.. not supposed to.” She stammered out, her words tripping over one another.

“Do you need a longer break?”

She shook her head, not sure if his tone was sarcastic or normal. “Um, no, sir. I’m sorry.”

“You can take a break if you need one.”

“Melanie said I can only have my hour break. It’s not time for it yet.”

A low laugh came from his throat. He shook his head in disbelief at this girl’s nervous state. She was fiddling with her own fingers as her eyes stared at the ground. It was almost like she was afraid to look at him.

“Melanie is not the person that pays you.” He spoke clearly so she’d understand. “You may take a break now.. if you need one.”

Although she could tell he was being serious with her, she didn’t want to accept the offer. She had to make a better impression. Without considering the benefits of a few minutes hiding from her job, she denied him.

“No, thank you, though. I’m okay.”

She lifted her head and took a deep breath. He watched her adjust her apron and fix the pen sticking out of the pocket. Iris pushed the stray piece of hair behind her ear and quietly excused herself. He moved aside and let her walk out of the room.

He followed her, staying a good bit behind, as she rushed back to her section. He was glad to see she was alright and nothing was wrong, or at least she was pretending nothing was wrong. His eyes stayed on her as she zoomed around to her tables. His group of friends and colleagues weren’t impressed by her service, and when he sat back down, they made sure to tell him.

“This waitress is a dumb ass.” The man next to him said.

Matthew was someone he’s known for years. They have invested in companies together and co-own a business, among other things. His opinions are always sharp and cold. He thinks he should be treated like a king because his bank account is full.

“She’s new.”

“She asked if I wanted another drink after sitting one down in front of me.” Matthew rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be rude to her.”

He scoffed back. “Since when do you care about the waitresses?”

“I care about the treatment of my employees and my business’s reputation. So shut the fuck up and leave the girl alone.”

For the remainder of his time there, he sipped his whiskey and let his eyes move with her whenever she was in his view. He wasn’t doing it to be creepy or invasive. He was simply curious about her behavior while working. He wanted to see if she was as nervous with other customers as she was with his table. It didn’t appear to be that way.

She keeps a bright smile on her face and is very attentive to her tables. She’s been doing a great job as far as he could tell.

But when she comes up to his table, her grin fades to a nervous look and her cheeks go red. Her eyes either stare directly at him and only him, or avoid him altogether. He decided not to give her a hard time, so he left the talking up to the others. Nobody was rude to her, per his demand, so he didn’t have to intervene.

As she walked up, her eyes landed on him and she forced a smile to cover her lips. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Just the bill.”

Her features dropped and she seemed to be a little confused. She reached up to toy with the pen in her pocket as she tried to muster up the courage to talk to him. Her mouth kept getting dry and her brain was losing the words she wanted to say.

“That’s all.” He said after a minute, watching her closely.

Iris took in a breath as her eyes glanced around the table. “They told me not to.. charge you.”

“Bring me the bill.”

“But-“ She was cut off by him.

“I’m the boss.” He spoke calmly, but his eyes held a stern look that made her insides turn and twist. “I said bring me the bill.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded quickly, then turned on her heel.

What was she supposed to tell Melanie? If she found out there was a charge to his table would she get mad? Iris was battling so many conflicting thoughts all at once, but she had to stay focused. He reminded her who was in charge and she had to remember that. If he said it, then that’s what she has to do.

Just as the printer spit out the bill, Melanie walked up to her. She wasn’t going to say anything at first, but she was afraid she would see the bill. So, Iris turned to face her and told her the truth.

“Um, Mr. Styles asked for a bill.”

Melanie’s face contorted. “What? No, you don’t charge him. He owns the place.”

“I told him you said not to charge him, but he demanded I bring it.” She replied, sighing as she looked down at the bill she was holding.

Melanie really didn’t know what to say or how to go about this, so she just went with it. There was obviously a reason he wanted the bill - if there wasn’t, he wouldn’t have asked for it.

“Well.. take it to him, then. I don’t know why he asked.”

Iris made her way back to the table and presented a smile as she handed him the bill. He didn’t even look at it as he took out his card and gave it back to her. She held her breath as she gripped the card tight under her thumb. She didn’t want to drop it or lose it on the way back to the computer.

There was nothing more terrifying than the thought of misplacing her boss’s card. She didn’t know the exact amount of money he had, but she knew it was a lot. It was way more than anything she ever imagined to see in her own bank account.

Returning to the table felt like a dream. It was most likely that he was about to leave and her stressful night would end. Her shift wasn’t over, but the most important part of it would be finished. Iris smiled yet again, this time it felt more genuine.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.” He took the pen from her and clicked the button.

“You’re welcome.”

She didn’t watch as he signed the receipt and filled out the tip line. The people around him began getting up and making their way to the exit, but he remained there as he slid the card back into his wallet. Iris felt less nervous with just him sitting there. The eyes of the total strangers glaring at her and observing her every move were gone now.

“Have a nice night.” He said through an exhale as he gave her the receipt.

She looked down at his writing and felt her stomach drop. He was only a few feet away from her when she called out to him.

“Um, Mr. Styles!”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. “What?”

She pushed down the lump in her throat. “I think you.. added an extra zero on.. on the tip.”

He smirked lightly and shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

When she finally made it home that night, she got ready for bed and practically threw herself onto the mattress. She was exhausted and overwhelmed from the very stressful, long shift. There was always a heap of things circling the drain in her mind, she was an overthinking anxious girl after all, but tonight nothing was more prominent than him.

Something about the way his deep voice spoke firmly and how his eyes fixed on hers so easily just confused her. Why was she so worried about this? It was most likely because he was her boss. That first impression was not very good, but hopefully she redeemed herself or at least convinced him to give her a chance.

Iris didn’t get a lecture from her manager when the night ended, nor did she get a threat of losing her job. For some reason, Mr. Styles spared her. She wasn’t sure she believed it to be true, it seemed too good.

[a/n: like I said above, this is the intro! It’s not meant to be very long or detailed. I hope you enjoy the series!! things will obviously get better as we go! — not as slow of a burn as ivy was]

banner credit: @cafekitsune (banners only, not series cover)

title: new angel - niall horan

taglist: (this is the updated list I have, if you’re name is supposed to be here and isn’t please reach out!) this is the combined list - all posts + the woman series!

@matildasatellite

@mema10

@valeriiyuhh

@adore-you-hs2

@dipmeinhoneyh

@lillefroe

@harryyloverrr

@prettygurl-2009

@sittinginthegardern

@bugboo1996

@walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

@victoriasigaard