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starmapz · 1 month ago

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what you know - ch17: ghosts || r. sukuna

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

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

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). medical content. 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 ; 22.7k.

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

Two million, seven hundred and eighty seven thousand, four hundred and three. That's how many of those stupid little dots are scattered across Sukuna's aging apartment's popcorn ceiling.

Well, no- it's not. But mindlessly counting from absurd numbers is preventing his stomach from upheaving any more of its contents.

Funny, that he pretends to count the spots on his ceiling, but he can't count how many hours he's been awake, fighting against his own body to get some rest. His back, forehead, and the valleys of his chest and abs are nothing more than pools of sweat, his sheet and blankets long tossed aside in favor of cooling down his perspiring skin.

He groans in pain as his stomach churns, clutching his abdomen as he finds himself breathing deeply in an effort to prevent the inevitable. He can't decide whether the taste of the Everclear from earlier in the night coming back up or the feeling of shame as he’d passed by Uraume sprawled across the couch on the way to the washroom is worse.

He'd had more than enough of their scolding for one night. Is it even still night? He isn't sure anymore. If he twists to look at the clock, he'll be sick.

What's worse is that even as his hair sticks to his forehead, slick with sweat, he thinks he'd do it all over again. There's another bottle barely an arms' length away, tucked in his drawer for the moment he would need it most, the same one he’d contemplated having before Satoru’s frat party months ago. It's one of those party favor bottles, the one meant to be a sampler that's hardly a single shot, but with Everclear, it'll go the distance.

It’s not dependency, it’s just… escape. A cowardly escape.

He doesn’t consider himself to be a coward, but there’s relief that comes with the idea of being one, just this one time. If he can’t fix things and reverse the trial then… Just once, he wants to be allowed to do something for himself, even if it’ll actively make him feel worse afterwards. Still, he wants to forget, until the wounds close and the scars fade and his day-to-day routine isn’t filled with questions.

How could he have done better? What had he missed?

What stage of grief would that put him at, anyway? Three?

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

He wants to say that puts him at the bargaining stage, but in truth he thinks he’s experiencing them all at once in some sort of unfair turmoil. The denial and anger hit months ago, as though he knew from day one that he’d lost, but the bargaining and depression hit hard and fast after the trial, pummeling down whatever was left of him.

The acceptance… That slunk its way into his psyche somewhere along the way, like a parasite he never noticed taking root. He can’t remember when it was that he realized he’d lost and began preparing himself, but it was long before the trial ever even started.

His eyes are heavy lidded as he trails his gaze across the ceiling, the rise and fall of his chest weighed down by his stomach churning again.

He groans again, slowly raising an arm to rest over his overheating forehead as he’s reminded of his pounding head. He supposes he can only blame himself for that, Uraume had forced him to drink two full bottles of water before letting him pass out. If they hadn’t, he figures he would be worse off.

As the sun rises and filters through the gap in his curtains, a strip of light casts vertically across his wall, his stomach settles enough that he manages to flip onto his side and get some rest.

He can’t say how long he slept, but it can’t be much later when he’s awoken by the sound of knuckles rhythmically hitting the door. Dazed, he groans as he pushes up onto his elbows, bleakly letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. His shadow is cast over the strip of light at the center of the room, his hair sticking up in every which way.

Rubbing at his dry eyes, he kicks his feet off the edge of the bed, still in yesterday’s clothes. Still half asleep, he can practically see his little brother shuffling from foot to foot with teary eyes just outside his door. Probably another nightmare, Sukuna figures.

That makes it all the more jarring as he opens the door and finds Uraume staring at him. It hits him like a head-on collision and he’s pulled to the present suddenly, reminded of just where his life sits now.

Uraume’s gaze evaluates Sukuna’s well-being before they let out a long sigh. “I made you some coffee.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, his mood soured as reality settles in. He pushes past them, making his way to the old coffee machine sitting atop his counter, the vinyl scratched beneath the machine from the amount of times he’s pulled the machine forward and backwards. He pulls the brewed pot out of place, met with a sudden pain right above his left eye as he reaches for a mug. He squints hard at the onset of a hangover headache, setting the mug down and pouring himself a cup of black coffee.

Turning from the counter, he presses the ball of his palm against his forehead in an attempt to dull the pounding, squinting hard. Rubbing small circles into his skull, he takes a sip of his drink, the familiar bitter taste and caffeine providing clarity to his morning, if it can even still be called that.

Half past one in the afternoon. He supposes that makes sense after his tumultuous night. He doesn’t even think he was at the bar that long, completely plastered before ten o’clock even hit, but his stomach kept him up most of the night.

“Are you ready to talk about last night?” Uraume calmly stands opposite him, arms crossed across their chest with a mostly neutral, albeit slightly unimpressed expression.

“What’s there to talk about?” He grumbles from behind his hand, peeking up at them with one eye still shut.

“I’d like to start with what drove you to order three shots of Everclear within an hour,” they begin pointedly.

He sighs, frustrated. “You know what did.”

Uraume nods slowly, casting their gaze aside in thought. “Right,” they affirm to themself quietly. Moving to the side of the open concept apartment, they pull a chair out from the table, taking a seat and settling their hands in their lap. “Everyone knows now,” they state.

Leaning his hip against the counter, he takes a sip of his coffee. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore,” he grumbles.

“Do you really think that? Have you actually given up?”

Sukuna pauses in thought, rubbing the pad of his thumb above his eye to relieve the pressure of his headache.

Does he really think it’s fruitless? He wants to say no, but is that just the first stage of grief, still? Is he just in denial that there’s nothing he can do? He supposes he doesn’t have a definitive answer to their question, like he wants to believe that he has a chance at turning things around.

But… What else can he do? He’d searched endlessly for incriminating records concerning Kaori. He’d searched the internet tirelessly, he’d been through his records twice, and he’d called enough telecommunications companies to last a lifetime. What’s left? At the end of the day, he thinks it’s little more than a daydream to hope for evidence to show up on his door on a silver platter.

Maybe he’d missed something in his documents? But still. Twice, he’d gone through everything. Kaori had tied every loose end with a bow at the end to really rub it in.

His lack of response is all that Uraume needs for their lips to quirk up into a minute smile. He’s not resolute yet in his acceptance of the loss of his brothers, and that’s enough for them. His spark isn’t out yet.

It’s dim, but it’s there. He may not have it in himself to nurse it back to life, but unbeknownst to Sukuna, he has a support system more than willing to help him bear the weight of his loss, if he’ll just let them in.

But therein lies the problem, doesn’t it?

“Maybe you missed something,” they point out, “when you went through your old files. I can take a look through them with you.”

Sukuna’s attention turns back to Uraume as he considers whether they could be right. He wants to say he’s looked through everything rigorously, but some files are harder to look through than others. Some of them he’s more than willing to admit sting to the very core and he avoided looking at them for too long. Some bring back memories that seem to burn the back of his eyelids, desperate to be seen once more, even when he closes his eyes to them.

He wants to say it can’t hurt to check again, but it hurt to check the first time.

He thought the second time would be easier, but that wasn’t the case either.

Still, the old storage closet filled with bankers’ boxes may have been stacked by Sukuna, but it was Uraume who packed them, all those years ago when Sukuna couldn’t bear to do so. Maybe they’ll see something he didn’t.

“Fine,” he relents, pushing a hand through his knotted and messy hair. It still sticks up in places, a sheen of sweat clinging to each and every strand after his shitty night. His skin is slick with that same sickening feeling and his head pounds with no sign of relent. “Not right now, though,” he grumbles, turning away to lean his elbows on the counter as he hunches over with his head in his hands.

Uraume gets up and pats him on the back, setting a bottle of Advil beside his elbow. He recognizes the telling rattle of the bottle and doesn’t hesitate to pop an extra strength tablet into his mouth, completely forgetting about his coffee as he throws the fridge open and grabs a half finished jug of apple juice- one of Yuji’s favorites- and drinks straight from the jug. He supposes it doesn’t really matter anymore.

Tossing it carelessly back onto a shelf in the fridge, he lets the door shut and throws himself down on the couch face-first. His limbs hang over every side, but his headache calms down the moment he’s laid across the cushions.

Unfortunately for him, Uraume’s always had a tough sort of love.

“Let’s start now,” they push, moving across the open kitchen and living space towards the hall.

“Fuck no,” he groans, muffled by the couch cushion. “Gimme a day or two, christ.”

Uraume grimaces, pushing his feet aside as they turn to take a seat at the end of the couch. They want to push to get it done as quickly as possible given that he has one month since the end of the trial to file for an appeal and it’s already been just over a week, but pushing won’t get anywhere when the throbbing of Sukuna’s head is making him increasingly grumpy.

Grumpy is better than numb, though, by Uraume’s standards.

“Can we talk, then?”

“Whatever.”

Uraume’s unphased by his frustration, settling their hands neatly in their lap as they begin. “Satoru told everyone he felt bad. He didn’t mean to get under your skin like that.”

Sukuna’s silent, staring blankly at the coffee table as he slowly blinks.

“You know, I actually think you two would get along well.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Uraume lets out a breath through their nose, something akin to a chuckle. “Toji?”

“Mm.”

They nod to themself, staring up at the movie shelf beside the TV. It’s usually full, with a little Star Wars Lego tank off to one side and a few bead lizards dangling off the higher shelf. That’s not the case anymore, though. A handful of family movies are missing, and the lizards that used to be scattered across the entire apartment have all been gathered in a pile they can just barely spot atop the shelf, mostly out of view.

He’s also cleaned up the final remains of the tinsel that used to pop up every so often from Christmas, the one that used to hang from the edge of the TV now having finally disappeared.

In fact, contrary to Sukuna’s personal living space, which is a mess- clothing everywhere, empty energy drinks and coffee cups scattered across every surface and a surplus of laundry ready to topple over the basket- the apartment is startlingly clean.

They recognize this pattern in him from when he lost his dad.

Wake up, lay in bed until he’s forced to his feet by an outside force, and find any and every way to keep himself busy, whether that’s chores or work or working out. Back then, that outside force was Yuji and Choso who would keep him on track. Now, Uraume can only pray that work is enough of a driving factor to get him out of that slump.

It’s why they aren’t exactly keen on leaving him to his own devices right now.

Moving along, Uraume says your name, trailing off for a moment before they continue, “you didn’t kiss her, did you?”

He shuffles, pulling his feet out from behind Uraume. “No,” he sighs, sitting upright. “Don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

His chest rises and falls heavily as bile sits sourly at the back of his throat. It tastes of Everclear, strong and repugnant. “I didn’t,” he doubles down, sinking back against the couch as his head rests on the back, his weary gaze plastered to the ceiling.

“Did you want to?”

He doesn’t move his gaze as his hands flail up into a frustrated shrug. “I guess, yeah.��

“Do you have feelings for her?”

Sukuna’s head whips up to look at his friend. “Can you stop? Fuck, I don’t wanna talk about it.” He winces as his head pounds in response to his snappy behavior, like sweet karma. Still, he’s too irritated and exhausted to be willing to apologize right now.

The thing about Uraume is that they don’t take anything Sukuna says to heart, really. They’re used to his outbursts and simply move on without a second thought. Simultaneously, Sukuna knows not to take their bluntness and tough love to heart when they’re a little bit too honest. That’s the dynamic that allows their friendship to work so well and has Sukuna just a little bit more willing to let Uraume in.

It’s sheer stubbornness, on their part. They walk in and take matters into their own hands. It pisses him off sometimes, but it was exactly what he needed back when Uraume caught wind of Sukuna’s situation all those years ago. They walked in and taught him the ins and outs of managing a one-year-old’s diet and baby proofing a new apartment, no matter how adamant he was on shutting them out. They even showed up out of the blue to help him pack up his dad’s old room when he couldn’t bear to.

They were there. They were there, and they found a way to help him manage, and they’re here now. For all his complaining and groaning, he appreciates it. Somewhere deep down, there remains a scared and lost man who’s grateful he isn’t alone.

He is, however, genuinely less grateful that they won’t drop the fucking subject.

“It’s a simple yes or no question, Sukuna.”

“It’s not fucking simple,” he growls, twisting in search of his coffee to find he’d left it on the counter. Huffing, he lets it go, unwilling to risk his head pounding if he attempts to get up.

“Why isn’t it?”

He flashes a snarl at his friend. “It’s just not, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Christ, how old are you?” He hisses in exasperation, letting his head hit the back of the couch with enough force that Uraume winces at the sound. “Stop fuckin’ asking, you’re worse than-”

Yuji.

The words die in the back of his throat, his shoulders slumping as realization crosses his face again.

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Uraume to catch his drift. With a sympathetic smile, they get up and cross the room, grabbing his coffee and handing it to him. It’s not quite as hot as he’d prefer, but it’s better than nothing and it’s helping to settle his stomach a bit more, which still churns every so often.

Uraume rephrases their initial question now that Sukuna has some more caffeine in his system. “You do have feelings for her, don’t you?”

Sukuna’s grip on his mug tightens. He wants so badly to say that it’s the hangover making him feel sick again; that maybe three shots of Everclear is too many (two is perfectly acceptable though, of course), because admitting that he drowned his sorrows is easier than admitting there’s something to be said about the way his heart seems to take a different shape when you’re around.

The piece of himself that you hold has transformed over time, becoming something else that he isn’t quite sure what to do with and it’s easier to push it away. Last night, though, something in the way your eyes shone in the moonlight struck a chord with him. Your eyes gleamed, not with pity or sympathy that Sukuna's tired of receiving, but with care.

All the shit he’s put you through, and you’re still goddamn there. Putting your heart into every single thing you do for him.

The clammy skin of his palms sticks to the mug as the same feeling from last night sits heavy in his stomach.

He stills wants to kiss you. Not to guide you to a bed and chase a night of pleasure before moving on with his life, no, he wants to feel how soft your lips are again. He wants the taste of whatever lip gloss you decide to wear to permeate his tongue and coat his own lips. He wants to keep you tucked tightly to his chest and fend off anything or anyone that dares to take your warmth from him, as though your care is fleeting.

Heat blooms in his chest, rising to his throat. It’s not like bile, it doesn’t taste quite as bitter, just… foreign. He doesn’t think he minds it, though. Like your warmth last night, this offers respite from the onslaught of bad thoughts and guilt that presses down harshly on his lungs and threatens to stop his breaths.

It’s almost a relief, he thinks, to come to terms with the thought that he’s been running from for so long now.

Fuck, he has feelings for you.

And they run deep. They’re ingrained into the way he seeks your company, or the pull at the corner of his lips when you say something so sweet that he can’t help but smile. They’ve taken root in him in such a way that holding your hand and wrapping an arm around you is second nature.

But with that realization comes the tightening of his throat, the undeniable and inevitable feeling that he’s not what you deserve, and you both know that. You don’t see him in the same way as he sees you. Why else would your hands press against his chest last night, pushing him back?

Maybe you’re okay with him seeking comfort in your kindness, but the intimacy in which he held you last night was too much.

It’s sickening, to think he’s only just come to terms with something he thinks he’s known all along and you’ve already slipped through his fingers. How many times does he need to lose everything and start over again before he gets a break?

He remains silent for a long while before his thoughts slip from his lips without a second thought. “Doesn’t matter. She pushed me away.”

Nodding slowly, Uraume shifts to face Sukuna. “I’ll admit, I suppose I don’t know how she feels,” they agree, “but you’ve made it through this much and your friendship stayed intact, is it not worth it to ask?”

The truth is, Sukuna doesn’t know. So many last chances crushed under the weight of his arrogance, what if that’s the final straw? He’s not sure if he can handle that.

Not right now.

There’s too much going on, he’s not willing to drown you in his demons or to start something only to pull back when everything is too much to bear. He knows himself well enough to know that no matter what angle he looks at things, he can’t do that to you.

No matter how hard it would be, he’d rather be just your friend than bring you down with him. He’d rather drown alone than be forced to watch the life leave your eyes as you drown alongside him. It’s easier this way.

“‘M gonna go shower,” he mumbles, deflecting Uraume’s question as he sets his mug on the coffee table.

They grimace as he holds his head while he walks away, but they’ll take any amount of progress when it comes to the grumpy man struggling once again to find his place in the world.

��

It was a relief to hear from Sukuna the morning following the night out, even if it was the driest of updates.

Quite literally. He sent a thumbs up emoji.

Uraume had given you updates on him throughout the night. Maybe even too many, honestly. According to their nearly hourly texts, he’d been up most of the night throwing up, which was… a gross dozen texts to wake up to. It’s not like you didn’t expect it (eight shots, and all), but you still didn’t need that much detail.

Hearing from Sukuna himself made your afternoon just a little bit easier. It also made your study session with Kento infinitely more productive as he helped to guide you through the final few chapters of your textbook, putting you back on track with your most difficult class.

A godsend, that man.

In fact, all of your friends are. The views on Sukuna seem to shift over the course of the weekend too, as you fall into step with Suguru the following Monday on your way to lunch. He’s looking relatively disheveled himself in unusually baggy clothes for him, with his hair down, rather than his signature half-bun. Strands fall in front of his eyes as he gives you a small wave.

“Morning,” he greets you with the easy smile he always manages, pushing his raven hair back out of his face.

“Morning, Suguru! How was your weekend?”

He hums. “I’ve had better,” he chuckles, casting the thought aside. “And you?”

“You and me both,” you sigh. “Everything alright?”

Suguru finds himself chuckling once more. “I’m fine, don’t you worry one bit about me.”

Pouting, a crease forms between your brows as you look up at him. “But-”

He interrupts you with a firm statement of your name, though his tone is playful and scolding. “I’m fine,” he reaffirms. “I’ll admit that I’ve been better, but I’m managing. I have lots of support from people with less on their plates and as much as I appreciate your kindness, I would prefer to see you not join myself and Sukuna in this state,” he chuckles, tired amusement pulling at the corners of his lips as his eyes crinkle at the corners just a bit.

You relent, smiling at him. “Just know that I’m here.”

“I’m well aware. Likewise for you,” he offers. “Speaking of Sukuna, how’s he handling things?”

“I’ll spare you the details from Uraume’s texts, but it sounds like he had a rough night.” You wince at the mere thought of the context from Uraume’s texts. “He hasn’t really been all that chatty otherwise.”

“Understandable,” Suguru acknowledges. “Give him some time. He’ll come around.”

“I hope so,” you sigh as you follow your friend into the lunch hall. A majority of the group from dinner the other night is there, and you know you’re moments away from being bombarded with questions, which does no favors for your disdain for being at the center of the attention.

Satoru also does you no favors as he practically leaps from his chair to take the empty seat that was once Sukuna’s between you and Uraume. “Hey,” he greets you, genuine sorrow painted across his pale features. He’s not the most genuine person, usually hiding behind comedy to mask his feelings, so the painfully serious look in his striking blue eyes causes you to shrink.

“Hi, Satoru.”

“Listen,” he starts, “I didn’t mean to start shit like that. I didn’t realize he-” he cuts himself off in an effort to keep his voice down to outside groups. The last thing he needs is to also accidentally spread rumors.

“You didn’t know,” you brush him off, keeping your eyes down on your lap as you avoid the curious gazes of onlookers and the rest of your friends. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s kinda his fault,” Toji adds dryly from across the table, his mouse full of food. “I fuckin’ told ya to shut up, man.”

“We were drunk!” Satoru retorts, throwing his hands up. “I thought you were just fucking around!”

Toji just shrugs. “I told ya you’d get along with him just fine if you just shut y’re damn mouth for two seconds.”

“Toji,” Uraume scolds him from across the table.

Satoru turns towards Uraume, clearly seeking answers although Uraume is the least likely to give them. “What even happened with his kids that I got to him so much?”

The air is silent as glances are exchanged between those who know of the lawsuit, and his loss. No one is quite sure what to say to appease the rest of the table, jaws ajar and eyes wide as anyone searches for an explanation.

“Would this have anything to do with the woman I heard him talking legal shit to outside his place the other day?” Atsuya asks, sounding wholly disinterested in the entire matter for someone who has no clue whether he’s airing out his friend’s issues. He chews on a toothpick, glancing between you and Uraume.

“Why were you at Sukuna’s place?” Uraume questions, incredulous.

“Didn’t know it was his,” Atsuya shrugs. “I was seeing someone who lives in the same building. Was gonna say hi, but he seemed busy.”

Uraume just sighs, making an executive call on behalf of Sukuna, which you’re grateful for as it pulls the attention to them, rather than you. Going back to Atsuya’s question, they nod. “Yes, it does. I’m not answering any more questions, though. It’s not your business,” they point out.

Satoru’s questions end there, though he still seems confused as he turns back towards you. “Can you tell him I’m sorry, at least?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“I appreciate you, short stuff.”

You swat his hand away as he tries to use your head as leverage to push himself up from the seat and head back around to his spot between Toji and Suguru. You shoot him a scowl, but he just grins, unphased.

–

You send Sukuna a text that afternoon letting him know that Satoru wants to apologize, but Sukuna’s replies remain dry.

In fact, he shifts his attitude not just within his texts, but even when you see him at work.

There’s no coffee awaiting you, nor does he ask you to accompany him for any of his four coffee runs on Tuesday alone, not to mention his five runs on Thursday. He also brushes you off for lunch both days, choosing instead to hole up in his office with headphones in. You can tell he’s at least going home since he’s in different outfits both days, but… you can’t help but feel as though it’s not doing him any favors to brush everyone off.

He’s doing it again.

So, you confront him by text on Thursday night after work.

6:49 PM You || Kuna?

It takes him a bit to get back to you, but he does. His replies are still as dry as ever, though.

8:01 PM Kuna || yeah

8:03 PM You || You’re pulling away again

Another break in his texts, it takes a bit to hear back from him.

8:29 PM Kuna || yeah.

8:30 PM You || I know things are hard right now, but you can’t push me away every time something goes wrong

You do what you can to express your frustrations, praying he takes it well.

8:34 PM Kuna || what do you want from me

8:34 PM You || I just wanna talk

8:35 PM Kuna || fine

8:35 PM Kuna || uraumes on my ass anyway about going through my files again

8:36 PM Kuna || come over tomorrow after your lecture

Able to finally breathe a sigh of relief, you send him confirmation that you’ll be there, followed by a thank you.

8:38 PM Kuna || mhm

Your day passes quickly and you’re standing at his door in a cute burgundy sweatshirt and a skirt, along with a pair of tights and some brown boots before you know it. Waiting outside Sukuna’s door, you smile as Uraume answers, raising your hand in a small wave.

“Hey,” you greet them as they move aside to let you in. Kicking off your boots, you shoot them a glance. “How’s he doing?”

They shrug. “I don’t think he’s sleeping much. I got here maybe ten minutes ago and he answered the door shirtless, then headed straight to his room and shut the door. He doesn’t seem all there.” They shake their head, running a hand through their white locks.

“Distant?”

Uraume grimaces. “Somewhere between distant and angry,” they shrug. “I don’t think he really wants to do this.”

“Look through the files?”

They nod.

Steeling yourself, you nod solemnly in agreement as Sukuna emerges from his room in a pair of black sweatpants and a black hoodie with an illegible band name on it. He’s freshly showered, hair hanging over his forehead and dripping down the bridge of his nose. He wipes the water with the back of his hand, pausing when he meets your gaze. His lips part and his shoulders tense as though the air’s been sucked from his lungs while his gaze travels the length of your body, but he finally shakes himself from his stupor and clears his throat.

“Storage closet’s this way,” he mutters, ducking his head and trudging away. Not even so much as a hello, just straight to the point. His movements are as empty as his words as his heels drag on the hardwood.

You suppose you’ll have to talk to him later about his frustrating tendency to push everyone away.

He barely waits for you both to make it to his side when he pushes the storage closet door open. It scrapes against the cardboard boxes painstakingly shoved inside, many of them on the verge of falling apart with frayed corners, while others look ready to burst at the seams. They’re all labeled with names, though you can’t tell what’s in them otherwise.

Sukuna pulls down the first few boxes, passing them along to the both of you, who move them into the living room. You shove the coffee table aside, attempting to set the piles of boxes up based on which brother they belong to. Sukuna brings out all the ones labelled for his little brothers, as well as any with his name on them in case they have something incriminating concerning Kaori. Lastly, he pulls down a couple of unmarked boxes that are mostly junk, setting those aside as well just to be sure.

With your hands on your hips, you survey the piles of boxes. “Where should we start?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Wherever. Doesn’t matter.”

You nod, looking him up and down before you move to a stack of boxes. His chest rises and falls heavily, you assume from lifting the boxes, his gaze settling heavily on the sight of them. He frowns at the stacks, the crimson of his eyes swimming with uncertainty. You find yourself lingering a moment too long on the gaunt skin beneath his eyes that denotes just how little he sleeps these days, as if he wasn’t already sleep-deprived before losing his brothers.

Now, the thought haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

You miss the way he’d attempt to hide his smirk when you made a dumb joke and the way he’d snort in amusement when you teased him.

Now, every reaction you get from him is hollow. A ‘whatever’ thrown around here, a ‘fine’ there. He just doesn’t care. He’s going through the motions, surviving, and that’s it. Alive, but not living. It hurts to see him so pained as he carelessly tosses a cover aside on the first box he grabs, labelled with his youngest brother’s name.

The detachment is likely the only way he knows how to handle going through this paperwork again.

As Uraume settles on the other side of the couch, you take a seat opposite them both on the floor, leaning back against the coffee table, and open a box marked ‘Ryomen’ in writing you assume must be Jin’s. It’s proper, albeit a bit bubbly. Teacher writing, easy to read.

Peeking into the box, you take in the contents. A variety of documents and paperwork all piled messily on one side, while seemingly random bits and bobs all fit along the side. You pull out a bandana, some pencils with various city names engraved into the sides, keychains that say ‘#1 Teacher’, and a stack of sports trading cards in rough condition, tied together with a dried elastic band that’s one tap away from crumbling.

Setting them aside, you purse your lips as you find an inhaler. The liquid within, or what’s left of it, sloshes around inside as you tilt it to read the label. Sukuna, Ryomen. Salbutemol, two to four puffs per day. Huh.

“Do you have asthma?”

Sukuna pauses, raising a brow. “No, why?”

As an explanation, you hold the inhaler up over the stacks of boxes between you for him to see.

He clicks his tongue, returning to sorting through paperwork. “Nah, it was a misdiagnosis,” he mutters with a hint of frustration.

“Is that what they gave you that day I drove you to the hospital?” Uraume queries as they squint at the plastic puffer held between your fingers.

Sighing heavily, Sukuna nods. “Yeah.” His exasperation doesn’t waver as he explains, “it was supposed to help with my breathing. Didn’t do shit, though.” You run your thumb over the label, nodding as you set it aside with the rest of the trinkets from the box you’re tackling.

His breathing. Anxiety, you figure. Yeah, you can only guess that an inhaler wouldn’t do much for shortness of breath induced by stress.

All three of you return to silence as the sound of paper flipping fills the air. You pull out the top portion of the haphazard pile of documents before you, flipping through a stack of old resumes, cover letters, and job applications. Nothing really sticks out, so you flip through the bottom portion of the pile before dumping the rest back into the box, setting it all aside.

Dragging the next box labeled with your friend’s name towards yourself, you pop the lid of the box off. This one is more well-organized, and when you leaf through the documents, it’s primarily school documentation. Grades, report cards, attendance records, and odds and ends of projects.

It’s organized by grade, beginning with first and ending with seventh. Although you do your best not to snoop, it’s tough when you need to double-check documents for anything that could help Sukuna’s case.

Also, you’re nosy.

His grades are stellar from the first grade all the way to the seventh, though the last couple of files are a little bit thicker. Most of the extra weight from the file comes from permission slips for field trips, as well as notices of school events like sports rallies and school plays. Most of them don’t seem to have much to do with Sukuna as far as you can tell, but Jin must have kept them anyway. A couple of notices of unexcused absences signed by Sukuna’s father are also tucked within the last two files, though one with a different signature catches your eye.

Kaori Itadori. The first sign of her involvement in Sukuna’s life seems to be grade six, coincidentally lining up with the start of Sukuna’s unexcused absences. It could just be by chance, but you’d wager a guess that there’s a reason behind the change in Sukuna’s behavior. After all, he’d mentioned that he was eleven when Jin introduced her to him.

Still, this box is a bust, so you place the lid back on top of it and push it aside with the other completed boxes.

As you drag the next box over, Uraume holds something out to Sukuna. Hospital documents, it seems. “Is this from when Yuji got that ear infection?”

He squints at the page, adjusting his view to see it better. “Yeah, it was.”

“That was a nightmare,” Uraume comments, though there’s a certain fond timbre to their words.

“Don’t remind me,” Sukuna grunts.

As you peer curiously over at Uraume, who sets the paperwork aside, they direct their attention to you. “Yuji woke up in the middle of the night and woke Sukuna up complaining that his ear hurt,” they explain, “but by the time Sukuna and I got him to the urgent care clinic, he was in tears.”

“More like having a fuckin’ nuclear meltdown,” Sukuna comments, crumpling and tossing aside something from one of the boxes labelled with Choso’s name.

Uraume chuckles, shaking their head. “Yuji got treated almost immediately because he was causing such a disruption.”

“At least the brat never put slime in his ear again,” Sukuna sighs, shoving aside the box he was looking through.

You wince at the mere thought of what a mess that would have been.

“Because he learned his lesson, or because you never bought slime again for him?” Uraume raises a brow with a hint of a smile.

For a fleeting moment, you think even Sukuna smirks, but the moment is gone when you blink. “Never bought it again.”

“Figured,” Uraume chuckles, shaking their head.

You laugh along with them at the thought, able to picture the poor kid sniffling when Sukuna refuses to buy him any more slime. The poor kid’s clearly been a troublemaker since birth.

Your attention returns to the next box, which you’re expecting to be grades eight to twelve, but it’s a box packed full of old printed photos.

The top few are more recent, mostly made up of photos of little baby Yuji with barely a hair on his little head. You pout at the adorable sight, setting it aside as you quietly sift through photos. The top of the box is made up of baby photos of Yuji, and the deeper you go into the box is where childhood photos of Sukuna begin to pop up, along with many of Choso.

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you pull out a photo of Sukuna all dressed up for his father and Kaori’s wedding with a little scowl. “Look,” you gasp, holding it up for Uraume to see.

They grin at the sight, suppressing their laughter as best as they can. “I see you’ve always been grumpy.”

Unimpressed, Sukuna scowls at you. “Focus,” he grumbles, his expression matching the photo in your hand. Mischievously, you hold it up beside his face, your giggles slipping through as you’re unable to hold it in. Sukuna reaches out to swipe it from you, but you pull it back before he can.

Your smile remains in place as you continue to sift through photos. “Do you think any of these photos would be worth bringing up?” You query as you hold up a tall stack you’d set aside, primarily of Sukuna with his little brothers.

Scratching the stubble along his jaw, Sukuna reaches over the boxes between you to take a look at the stack. Halloween, Christmases, nothing that really screams ‘guardian’ as far as he can tell, aside from the few at the end.

Holding his baby brother’s hand as the infant got his vaccinations. Choso on Sukuna’s shoulders at some sort of outdoor fair show so that the little boy can see. Sukuna helping Choso cut some steak off the bone, followed up by Sukuna flashing the photographer a snarl to stop taking pictures. Sukuna hunched over the table, pointing to something in Choso’s homework. Furious Sukuna covered in whatever baby food Yuji had flung at him.

And lastly, the first time Sukuna held Yuji. He’d held Choso too when he was born, but he was an older teen when he held Yuji, and everything seems so much more daunting at that age. You can see that fear in Sukuna’s expression in the photo, too. Having another little brother to look after felt like a world of responsibility given that Kaori couldn’t seem to be bothered with her own motherly duties.

Even back then, Sukuna knew.

Jin had excused her behavior as a part of the experience of postpartum, but Sukuna wasn’t so sure. His father was blind to Kaori’s quiet mistreatment of her children. Hell, he was blind to her quiet mistreatment of himself.

And so, Yuji always felt like a new responsibility.

He just never expected his father to not be there to handle the brunt of it.

With a sharp inhale, Sukuna passes the stack of photos back. “No.”

Your brow knits together with concern at his obvious dismissal as he buries himself back into whatever he was looking through. You exchange a glance with Uraume, silently sharing their worries. Casting the thoughts aside, you plop the photos back in the box and shove it into the pile of completed boxes.

Surely, you think the next box will be grades eight to twelve, but the inside of the box takes you by surprise. You glance at the label on the outside of the box, but Sukuna’s name is crossed out, with nothing to replace it.

Shuffling through the box’s contents, you pull out a variety of old acrylic paints, little figures of dinosaurs and trees, glue sticks, paint brushes, and toybox sand in a little bag. Setting them all aside, you blink at what sits at the bottom of the box. It’s honestly… hard to decipher exactly what it is.

It’s mostly orange, and whatever it is seems to have somewhat imploded. It… might have been one of those old volcano science fair projects at one point? Jin must have kept it, you can’t envision Sukuna wanting to hold onto it.

Shifting the box towards him, you tilt your head. “Is this a volcano?”

Sukuna swallows hard at the sight. “Yeah. It was a project for our school’s Science Fair Day.”

“Oh! Choso’s?”

“Mine. It was a demo of how eruptions preserve life,” he explains blankly, his scowl deepening as he stares down at his lap.

That was the one box he’d intentionally known to skip the last couple of times he’d gone through files, but it slipped his mind this time around. Seeing that project all these years later doesn’t make the memory any less painful.

“Y’r volcano looks great!”

Sukuna grins at Toji. “Thanks! Dad helped me put it together and I painted it,” Sukuna states. He knows it’s just about the most generic project he could have put together, but it allowed him to show off his history knowledge thanks to his dad by talking about volcanic events throughout the years, and he’d get to show off his art, both of which he prefers over science.

Bonus points that it explodes, and what twelve-year-old doesn’t love that?

“Lucky. I did the lemon and potato battery thing, didn’t know what else to do,” the raven-haired boy shrugs. There’s a hint of jealousy in his eyes, but he moves along. “Is Jin comin’?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna help with the eruption,” Sukuna nods, turning to face the baking soda, water, dish soap and vinegar set up along his table in the corner of the school gymnasium.

Other students wander and look around at different projects around them as Toji shoves his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, his emerald gaze focused on the ground. “I hope he looks at mine, too.”

Sukuna doesn’t really understand why Toji’s parents never show up, too young to grasp his friend’s situation, but he does like that his friend gets to spend a lot of time at his house because of it.

It’s only in the later years of their childhood that Sukuna would grow to realize just what it means to have an absent parental figure. Maybe even neglectful, if he’s more honest with himself.

“I’m sure he will,” Sukuna shrugs. He pulls his flip phone from his pocket to check the time. “He’s supposed to be here in ten minutes.”

“Sounds good. I’ll go back to my project!” Toji calls, racing off towards the middle of the gymnasium.

Watching as he practically barrels over a girl in Sukuna’s math class, the pink-haired boy shakes his head and surveys his project. He adjusts a dinosaur at the base of his volcano and shifts on his feet as he waits for his father to arrive.

Jin’s never late. So, five minutes past the time he said he’d be there, Sukuna pulls out his phone to check for calls or messages.

Nothing. It’s probably an accident.

Picking at his nails, Sukuna glances around the gym. The teachers are a couple of rows away from his project, so he still has time.

Once they’re only a row away, Sukuna finds himself searching the entrances every few seconds. He flips his phone open, but there’s still nothing. Pulling his baseball cap off, he pushes his hair back, settling the black cap back on his head.

The teachers only a few tables away when he pulls his phone out to call his dad.

One ring, two, three.

Five.

He gets the answering machine.

“Hey, Dad. Uh- I’m just waiting for you in the gym. Uh- bye.” He hangs up, staring down at the phone screen as though it’ll light up instantly and his dad will apologize and be running through the door, but that’s not the case. He tucks the phone back in his pocket, shifting from side to side.

As the teachers arrive at his table, he searches the entrances quickly. “Uh- my dad’s just late, can I go last?”

It’s not a problem, and they move on to complete the last few rows circling the outside of the gym. His dad has another thirty minutes or so, plenty of time.

As the minutes go by, the gym begins buzzing as it nears time for the teachers to judge the projects and announce a winner. The students get louder as they converse with friends around them, all while Sukuna silently watches the doors. With each second, he feels his shoulders falling. He wants to believe his father will show up, but…

He’s not sure what the feeling bubbling within him is, really. The emotion that rolls within his stomach and tightens his throat. The one that sends his mind reeling as he wonders if this has something to do with his dad’s girlfriend. He can’t say why his thoughts go there first, but maybe it has to do with that feeling he can’t describe, right?

Maybe he should call her.

He flips his phone open again, scrolling through his few contacts until he finds Kaori, calling her as well.

Voicemail.

He calls his dad.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Scowling down at his phone, his eyes are hot and he wipes any evidence of his disappointment away, turning towards his table.

This can’t be any different from that soda and mint experiment, right? So… the baking soda would be the mints, he supposes.

Sucking in a breath, he pours water into the base of his volcano with a bit of dish soap and food coloring, and finally the vinegar. He picks up the diorama to give it a little shake to mix it all, and stands straight as the teachers make their way to him.

One frowns, concerned when Sukuna is still alone, without his father, but Sukuna begins before they can ask any questions. He explains the process behind the preservation of the dinosaurs due to molten lava rock, the ways it solidifies around its victims and forms shells that allow humanity to cast an approximation of what something may have looked like. He points to a poster board standing behind his volcano with examples of such a thing, and goes over moments in history where it’s been recorded.

He doesn’t falter once.

The teachers can’t even tell that he’s wracked with nerves that his volcano won’t erupt as he dumps the baking soda into the volcano. It erupts without a flaw, leaving a trail of orange across the diorama and demonstrating his point by having bumps where the dinosaurs once were.

The teachers all clap, before heading off to discuss each project.

Sukuna’s hardened expression searches for his friend, threading through the sea of bodies when he finds Toji.

“Hey, where’s your dad?”

Sukuna casts a glance back at the entrance. He pulls out his phone in hopes of a missed call, but the screen is still blank. “Dunno.”

Toji’s head tilts, scratching at his neck. “Sorry, Ryo.”

“It’s fine,” he dismisses, although Toji can see through his friend’s thin-lipped neutrality.

For all his stupid antics and the dumb shit Toji pulls his friend into, Toji was forced into maturity at a young age, even if he doesn’t always come across that way. He recognizes the depths of Sukuna’s disappointment more than he’s willing to admit, so he launches into a discussion about how shitty his favorite basketball player has been this season to distract the pink-haired boy.

It works well enough as Sukuna stops obsessively checking his phone and tapping his foot. Although Toji and Sukuna don’t often talk about their home lives, they’re always there for one another. They’re too young to see all of the pieces of the puzzle when it comes to either of their families, but they do understand the quiet agreement to look out for one another.

Someday in the future, Toji would find himself wondering where exactly he went wrong.

Sukuna would find himself wracked with guilt.

But for now, Toji wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulders with a grin as Sukuna cracks a joke about Toji’s terrible taste in basketball teams.

It’s not long before the teachers return to the gymnasium to congratulate the winners. Third place goes to a girl in Sukuna’s math class who did a demonstration on aerodynamics with paper airplanes.

Second place goes to Sukuna, and though his chest swells with pride at the unexpected victory, something else festers within his chest.

He almost wonders if it’s a pity win. A volcano is nothing special, and to him, the history lesson he threw into it is just another day at the Sukuna household. He doesn’t realize the depths of his research and understanding of history, art, and even science.

He grins as Toji shoves his shoulder in congratulations, but even as he jogs to the front to accept the prize, the eyes of students around him feel…

Do they know, too? Do they feel bad, too? His skin itches with the strange crawling feeling those questions leave behind.

First place goes to a girl in Toji’s science class. She’s beyond smart, everyone knows she’ll go far, and her homemade lava lamp proves it.

When Sukuna’s finally allowed to slip away, he ducks through the dispersing crowd back to his table, where he pulls out an old banker’s box to dump everything into. He doesn’t bother to even wipe down the diorama, just tosses it inside along with all the materials and tucks the box and his display under his arm.

He pushes out of the gymnasium, beelining straight for the outdoors.

Rain downpours, hitting the cardboard lid of the box in his hands with a subtle plap! as droplets accelerate around him until it’s pouring. He blinks, his lips parting as he realizes there’s no car waiting to take him home, and the bus route is still a good twenty minute walk from his house.

“Hey, come back to mine.”

The pink-haired boy spins around to find Toji grinning. There’s no sign of pity in his eyes, to Sukuna’s relief.

He fumbles with his project box to pull his phone out one more time before nodding when he finds the screen blank. “Sure,” he relents, pulling the hood of his sweater over his ball cap to prevent it from getting completely drenched and soaking his hair.

It would be two hours later, just after dinner, when Jin would call Sukuna in a panic.

He’ll apologize- eyes red and cheeks puffy- to his child as he explains what happened. An emergency at work, something completely out of his hands. Sukuna still won’t really get it, but he’s old enough to recognize the signs of tears on his father’s face. He’s at that age where things begin to click, and just as they had clicked earlier than usual for Toji, things are beginning to make sense to Sukuna, as well.

He would learn later that there was no emergency at his father’s work, but rather that his girlfriend had chosen Sukuna’s science fair time to reveal something to Jin.

The pregnancy was an accident on both parts. An unexpected baby boy.

The timing to tell Jin, however, was no accident. It was an opportunity to erase Jin’s past, to pull all focus and attention to a chance at a new life and leave behind the old one, should Jin allow it. That’s the thing about Jin, however. He would never, not in a million years. And so despite Jin’s joy, they had fought. The first- and maybe even only- time, to Sukuna’s knowledge.

Unfortunately for the little boy drenched right down to his socks in rain with his head down as he walks away from the Zenin household that night, he isn’t aware of the depths of Kaori’s manipulation in his life. It’s because of her that it won’t be the last time Sukuna is disappointed by her, or even by his father at her beck and call.

“Sukuna?”

Uraume’s staring at him with a raised brow, their arm outstretched. He blinks, pulling a document from their hands.

“Would that help with anything?”

Flipping the file to face him, Sukuna frowns at the contents. Detailed medical records for Kaori, and thus far the only record of her existence aside from one signed absence record. After looking through his documents the first time earlier this year, he’d come to the conclusion that Kaori had scrubbed her files and taken them with her before she’d left, as though she might someday get accused of something by Sukuna.

As though she knew.

“Maybe,” he hums, looking the records over. They’re detailed records of a full exam before Yuji’s birth with not a single thing out of the ordinary that he could potentially use to disprove whatever medical records Sukuna is certain that Kaori forged. Still, they’re from a year prior to the supposed sickness, so can he even be sure that would work? “Dunno if it’s enough.”

You narrow your eyes briefly at him, having noticed just how zoned out he’d seemed for a good few minutes, but he seems fine now. Shaking it from your head, you pull the next box towards you.

The following banker’s box that you find is grades eight to twelve, as you had expected of both previous boxes. This one is packed as full as it can possibly get, nearly bursting at the seams. Grade eight is similar to seven, a couple of unexcused absences, a few unsubmitted projects that Sukuna was allowed to make up, but nothing that stands out and no evidence of Kaori.

Grade nine does stand out. Dozens of notices of unexcused absences, and for whatever reason all of the signatures shift to Kaori’s. His report cards all seem to be missing from this year, as well as most of the evidence of his grades at all. Tucked between a novel study and math worksheet is also a photocopy of an apology letter, handwritten by Sukuna, asking for forgiveness for stealing an answer key for an exam.

You can only guess the lack of evidence of what took place this year means this is the year that Kaori bailed him out, and consequently the year that changed Sukuna’s entire perception of her.

Following the ninth grade, he seemed to pull his grades together with nothing that really stands out or points to Kaori.

Grade twelve tells a story that has your heart sinking.

Excused absences start here. Each one is signed by Jin, but as they progress, the signatures get sloppier- weaker. There’s a document denoting Sukuna becoming a part-time student in order to take care of ‘familial obligations’, and his signature to sign off on dropping an art class in order to have two spare time slots in his schedule.

You cast a glance up at Sukuna, who yawns and rubs the corner of his eye as he squints at something Choso wrote when he was in second grade, the little boy’s writing nearly illegible. Shaking his head, he continues to sift through files with the same devoid expression on his face.

You can’t help but wonder if this really isn’t affecting him, to go back through his siblings’ files like this, or if he’s just bottling up whatever emotions arise from the documents.

Frowning, you turn your attention back to the box. The last thing tucked at the very end of the box is Sukuna’s graduation cap. You pull it out, unflattening it and untangling the golden tassels with a minute smile. It’s clear that Sukuna meant the world to Jin, keeping every last detail from each year.

Sukuna catches sight of his graduation cap out of the corner of his eye, averting his gaze before you can ask any questions about the day. Talking about the time Yuji shoved slime in his ear is one thing, but he can feel his ability to search through documents waning as the day stretches on.

He’d thought he had no tears left to shed and no anger left to yell, but it would seem that isn’t quite the case as each one of Choso’s little worksheets and duotangs with sweet drawings of him and his brothers claws the wounds open once again. It seems as though Sukuna can still bleed.

Sukuna had never really cared for graduation, he’d always reasoned that high school was just that- high school. Grades hardly mattered to anyone but Jin, attendance was a joke, and he’d been adamant that math was a waste of time when instead of understanding the equations properly, he memorized how to program formulas into his calculator and still got high marks.

But Jin cared.

And Sukuna’s not sure he’ll ever forget the proud look on Jin’s face, alone in the crowd, as Sukuna crossed the stage.

“Right here’s great, Ryomen.”

Sukuna leans down to Jin’s eye level, squinting up at the stage. “You can’t see anything from here, Dad.”

“I can figure it out, you go to your seat,” his father insists, but Sukuna just rolls his eyes. Taking a hold of the handles of his father’s wheelchair, he stands up straight and takes a look around, making the executive decision to find a better spot. The venue choice for the ceremony is just about the least wheelchair-accessible option that the school could have chosen, but Sukuna’s positive they just went with the cheapest choice.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, go to your seat,” Jin attempts to shoo his son away, insistent that he can find a spot, but Sukuna knows damn well from the tremble in his fingers and telltale wheezing that today isn’t a good day for his father’s health and he’s just pushing through. Some days are better than others for Jin, and while today isn’t a good one, Sukuna deems that he’ll make it one, if that’s what his father wants. If he wants to watch his son graduate, then he will.

Slowly wheeling his father down an aisle of chairs, he moves him off to the side, out of the way but with a narrow view between the seats that allows Jin to actually see the ceremony. “Better?”

Jin sighs and nods, grateful to his oldest son. He reaches up to adjust his glasses before affixing the camera in his lap to a stabilizer that Sukuna had saved up for to help with the tremor in his hands. His father always loved photos, and Sukuna wouldn’t let his frailty take that from him.

Jin’s beyond proud of the man his son has become. He once worried Sukuna wouldn’t make it through high school when his grades began plummeting as he and Toji often disappeared the moment they were dropped off at school. As soon as no one was looking, they were gone with the wind.

Jin never blamed Toji, though. They were just kids, out doing what kids do best. Having fun and getting in trouble.

“Got it working?” Sukuna asks, leaning down to check the camera’s screen himself.

“All set!” He smiles, his eyes gleaming from behind his glasses. “Go sit,” he shoos his son away.

Sukuna’s gaze evaluates his father’s wellbeing a moment longer, looking over the way his fingers tremble, his slightly labored breathing, and his pale complexion, paired with obvious weight loss. His illness is undeniable, but he looks happy right now, so Sukuna finally nods and takes his assigned seat between a couple of people he scarcely knows who just happen to share last names close to his in the alphabet.

The ceremony is painfully long and Sukuna pays little attention throughout the majority of it. He probably would have stayed home and had his diploma mailed if this wasn’t the single most important event for his father. All month, it was the only thing Sukuna had heard about.

Could be worse, he supposes. At least he isn’t sitting between four sterile white walls with the sickening smell of some sort of pungent cleaner. There’s no rhythmic beeping, no distant sounds of the chatter of nurses. Just a low buzz of excited students and parents. It’s almost comforting knowing that he’s here with his father, rather than where he could be.

Row by row, students rise and cross the stage until it’s Sukuna’s turn. With a quiet sigh, he steps across the stage under bright lights and shakes the principal’s hand, taking the diploma in his opposite hand as he turns to pose for a photo.

His eyes scan the crowd, settling on his father, who has the biggest grin Sukuna’s seen on his face in months. The pink-haired man’s lips quirk at the corner, his shoulders relaxing at the sight as his father’s contagious smile somehow crosses the whole crowd to Sukuna.

For all his complaining, that one sight might have even made this whole ceremony worth it.

Stepping down off the stage, Sukuna returns to his seat, waiting for the ceremony to end with the traditional cap toss.

Sending his cap flying through the air, the graduate slips out of his seat as the ceremony comes to a close. He makes his way to the back of the conference hall where his dad is still seated, eagerly awaiting his oldest son.

“I’m so proud of you, Ryomen,” Jin beams, tears in his eyes as his son returns to his side.

A puff of air leaves Sukuna’s nose, something between a laugh and embarrassment as the tips of his ears warm. “Thanks, Dad.” He rounds the wheelchair to grab its handles, waiting patiently for the room to clear.

“We should find your cap, I want to make one of those graduation frames with the photo and cap.”

“School’s cheap, they rented the caps and gowns. We don’t get to keep ‘em,” Sukuna explains stoically.

Jin contemplates this for a moment as he places his camera within the bag he’d brought along. He pulls his phone out, fiddling with it as he speaks up again. “You know, they probably won’t notice if one is missing.”

Sukuna’s brow raises, a faint smirk on his lips. “You wanna steal something?”

Jin chuckles, a faint cough rocking his frame that causes Sukuna’s smirk to falter. “Let your old man have this.”

With a quiet sigh, Sukuna stares out at the hats littering the area in front of him. “How am I even supposed to tell which one’s mine?” He mutters, staring across the expanse of unmarked hats.

“My son’s got a big head. You’ll know,” Jin teases in such a way that it’s easy to forget anything is wrong in the first place.

Sukuna snorts. “Thanks, Dad.”

Wheeling his father to the edge of the seats where most of the caps litter the floor, he attempts to look for the biggest hat, but they’re all the same size. Jin knows it, too.

As Sukuna steps over the caps, he moves towards his seat, looking in the general direction that he thinks he tossed it. There’s literally no way of knowing, so he picks up a cap and holds it up for his father’s evaluation.

“Too small,” he calls from the edge of the caps.

Sukuna shoots him a look, but there’s amusement swimming in his eyes. With a little huff, he carelessly tosses the cap back into the pile, sifting through the remainder. After a moment, he picks up another one, flipping it only to see the tassels are somewhat mangled. He makes the executive decision to not even show his father that one, instead finding one that seems to have avoided being stepped on while the students all made their way out. He holds it up, satisfied when his father grins.

“That’s the one.”

“Great,” Sukuna chuckles, setting the cap on his dad’s lap as he steps over the remainder of them. Jin tucks it into his bag, his expression morphing to a more pained one as he pulls up his texts afterwards.

It’s not often that the pink-haired young man snoops, especially on his father, but one look at the contact has him immediately reading over his father’s shoulder. It’s not easy with the tremor in JIn’s hands causing the screen to shake, but that won’t stop Sukuna.

From what Sukuna can tell, Jin and Kaori seem to be in an argument about the graduation ceremony. Jin had told Sukuna that Kaori wouldn’t be able to make it due to her work schedule overseas (which is for the better, if you ask the brutish man), but his heart sinks as he sees the truth of what they’re fighting over.

It was never work at all. Kaori just didn’t want to miss an outing with her friends and colleagues.

It’s not like Sukuna cares, but Jin does. In the eight or so months since she left, she hasn’t once returned. Not for birthdays or anniversaries, not for Christmas, and least of all for graduations.

Yuji isn’t even a year old.

As he reads over Jin’s shoulder, he wonders if the lie about her being unable to make it due to work was something she said to Jin in an effort to cover up the fact that she doesn’t give a flying fuck, or if Jin always knew all along and came up with the lie himself to protect Sukuna. It’s not like he needs the protection, but his father’s always been a kind soul like that.

With a final ‘talk later’ text, Jin sets his phone inside his bag and glances up at Sukuna, who coolly wheels him out to the parking lot, where he proceeds to help him into the small family car.

“How does lunch sound, kiddo?”

“Don’t call me that,” Sukuna mutters as he lifts his father into the passenger seat before rounding to the driver’s side. “And that’s alright. I know we’re short on cash, we can skip the-”

Jin frowns. “You don’t need to worry about that. As soon as my surgery date’s here, I’ll be back to it in no time and your step-mother can help until then.”

From the driver’s seat, Sukuna’s grip on the gear shift tightens. He knows damn well that Kaori has sent the bare minimum as far as money goes, just enough to pretend she cares. Being as kind-hearted as ever, Jin always sees the best in people and of course he believes her.

“Sure, Dad. Where do you wanna go for lunch?”

Sukuna swallows hard, grateful that when he glances back up at you, that the godforsaken cap is out of sight.

He stares down at the slight tremble in his own fingers, as though his own body is mocking him. His jaw clenches at the mere thought as he shoves aside the box he’d almost finished, deeming whatever sits at the bottom to be a waste of his time as he carelessly shoves more documents into the box.

He pulls the next box from the stack with a hardened expression as nothing continues to jump out at him, given that he’s already seen all of this shit.

Time passes in relative silence until Uraume needs to excuse themself to head to their evening plans. Sukuna follows them to the door to chat, though you hear their quiet exchange as Sukuna claims he doesn’t need them to check on him. Still, his friend insists they don’t mind and want to spend time with him.

You honestly expect him to put up a fight to defend his pride, but whether he’s too dejected or too tired, he doesn’t bother, back to sorting boxes before you know it.

Finishing up with the last box with Sukuna’s name on it, you take a look around. “Which one should I take next?” You ask, unsure what’s already been checked.

With a long inhale, Sukuna scans the remaining boxes. “Uh- just take this one,” he nudges a box near his foot. “It’s another one of Choso’s shit.”

You pull it towards yourself, popping the lid off. You pull out a stack of drawings from the top, unable to hold back a bittersweet smile at the drawings made by a very young Choso of what you can only assume is himself, Sukuna, Jin, and Kaori doing a number of fun activities. As you flip through them, your smile falters when Yuji appears, but Kaori disappears from the art altogether.

Sukuna’s expression in the art changes, too. From a neutral one to a frown.

There are no more drawings following one of the four of them around a Christmas tree. You’re grateful, honestly, because you’re not sure you could stomach seeing the way the drawings would shift after Jin disappears, too. Would Choso’s smile turn into a frown?

You don’t want to know.

You set the drawings atop the last box you sorted, alongside a hospital bracelet with any information completely smudged from its surface.

Sukuna glances up as you set a stack aside, the bracelet catching his attention. He blinks, rubbing his eyes. Why had he agreed to look through everything again? He already knew you would all come up short. A few medical records with Kaori’s name on them won’t do much to help his case. What’s he supposed to say? ‘Well, Your Honor, she was fine a year ago’?

Things change in a year. Hell, they can change in an instant. Sukuna knows that all-too-well.

The door shuts behind him as Sukuna turns to hang his keys off of the hook on the wall. Choso’s at a friend’s house, though his father should be around somewhere with Yuji. Sukuna skips every second step on his way up the stairs, heading past the chairlift they’d had installed to allow Jin to remain independent. He peers into his dad’s room, before finding him in Yuji’s nursery.

The kid had almost outgrown it at this point, but his father insisted on waiting until the last moment to swap everything out.

Jin’s not slick with his lies either, unable to hide anything from his keen eldest son. Sukuna knows the real reason is that they aren’t just short on cash, they’re completely and utterly broke. Jin’s relying on the medical leave payments from his work to cover their living expenses, and whatever pitiful amount of money Kaori claims she can spare. It’s not enough to care for the four of them, but he won’t allow Sukuna to drop out of college in order to get a job.

It’s his one and only request from his tattooed son.

Jin doesn’t ask Sukuna to drive him to appointments, or to help him around the house. In fact, if anything, he insists that Sukuna doesn’t help. He continues to take care of Yuji on his own, doing what he can to eliminate work for his oldest, but it doesn’t stop Sukuna from stepping in.

On shaky legs, Jin leans heavily on Yuji’s crib, pulling the child into his arms. It pains Sukuna to watch his father play a balancing game, all the while the baby in his arms is crying.

“I got him,” Sukuna mutters, pulling Yuji from his father’s grip.

“It’s fine, Ryomen, I-” Jin cuts himself off with a sigh, shaking his head as he takes a seat back in his wheelchair.

“Lemme take you guys down to the kitchen.”

Although Jin struggles with his loss of strength and therefore his loss of mobility and overall independence, the kind man struggles the most seeing Sukuna handle so much of the responsibility. He never allows his son to change a diaper or cook, he handles the bulk of the responsibility of having children, but for all of his denial, he’s grateful that his oldest has grown into a smart and capable young man.

It’s easy to see where Sukuna got his prideful independence from when you consider the way he misread his father’s intentions at the time. The young man always assumed that Jin tried to refuse Sukuna’s help out of pride, but that was never the case. From the moment Jin began to need an extra hand, he tried to spare his son of the responsibility not out of pride, but out of love. He always wanted his son to have the opportunity to enjoy the freedom of being a young adult in college.

Still, Sukuna just brings Yuji downstairs without a word, setting him down in a high chair and coming up next for his father.

The process is easy enough when you’re built like Sukuna is. He wheels his father to the stairs and doesn’t bother with the chair lift, opting to carry his dad down to the awaiting second wheelchair to transfer into. From there, he leaves his dad to do his thing, ducking away to his room without another word.

Shutting the door, he runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, falling face-first onto his bed.

It’s been a long day. College is a different experience from high school and he needs to put in a lot more effort to apply himself properly and he’s not looking forward to studying for his exam tomorrow. Why did he take geology anyway? There had to be easier credits elsewhere.

Pushing himself back up after taking a breather, he unloads the contents of his backpack onto his desk and settles down with his laptop.

With headphones on over his ears, he stares blankly at his geology textbook as he considers the life choices that led him to learn about sedimentary rocks. He thinks a part of him had expected more of a focus on mountains, or fossils, or… something. Either way, he doesn’t think he likes rocks enough for this.

His brow furrows as he swears he hears something loud and piercing over the sound of his music, which is loud enough as it stands. Pulling his headphones down, he hears Yuji crying, but shrugs it off under the assumption that Jin will handle it.

As a minute goes by and he hears more wails, he pulls his headphones down once more. He hears no movements, no shushing. What the hell?

Huffing, he tosses his headphones down on his desk and makes his way back down the stairs to the kitchen. He stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the edge of the tile, blood running cold at the sight of his father on the floor, slumped against the kitchen cabinets. He’s still conscious, clutching his chest, but has no energy to even attempt to soothe Yuji’s cries. His mouth is parted as he focuses on breathing.

“Shit,” Sukuna reaches into his pocket urgently, pulling his phone out and dialing the emergency number. He sets it on the floor on speaker as his wide eyes take in his father’s shallow breaths. His skin is pale with a sickening blue hue, and as Sukuna attempts to adjust him, he groans. “Shit,” Sukuna mutters again as the phone clicks to connect him to an emergency operator.

He runs on autopilot as the emergency operator begins questioning him. The nature of the emergency, his address, his father’s medical history. It comes naturally to him now, but it didn’t always. No matter how many times he’s gone through this cycle, however, it doesn’t get any less terrifying. Even now, the fourth time in five months that he’s called the emergency number, his hands tremble as he attempts to keep his father present and awake while replying to the operator on the other line, all while doing what he can to shush his little brother so that they can hear Sukuna on the phone.

When the ambulance arrives, Sukuna races to the door to let them in, pulling his hungry little brother into his arms as he surveys what his father was doing before he collapsed. There’s some sort of food in the blender, maybe he can just feed that to Yuji and take the kid with him to the hospital.

It’ll have to do.

He races to strap Yuji into his car seat, taking the family car and following closely behind the ambulance. The little boy’s wails only intensify as he grows hungrier, unaware of the goings on around him.

“I know Yu, fuck, gimme a moment, okay?”

Sukuna’s words don’t appease the little boy, who continues to sob. Reaching the hospital parking lot, the brutish man sighs as he parks, the screams of his little brother pounding in his head already. He turns in his seat, grabbing the baby food- or whatever it is- and spoon that he’d shoved into a little bag on his way to the car.

“C’mon, it’s alright,” he grumbles in his best attempt at soothing the toddler when he leans over the center console of the car to attempt to spoon some food into Yuji’s mouth.

Yuji throws his hands around, knocking the spoon from Sukuna’s hand. The man pulls back, raking his hand aggressively through his hair in frustration.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles to himself, picking it back up and wiping it on his shirt. He can clean it later, it doesn’t matter right now. With a sharp inhale, he scoops up another spoonful of what he can only guess is carrots and pauses before Yuji’s arms can reach out again. “Don’t be a brat,” he mutters, holding it barely out of arms’ reach.

Yuji calms down for a split second, just enough time for Sukuna to propel the spoon through the air towards him. Just before it can reach his mouth, the toddler wails and turns his head, sending the spoon to the floor again.

Sighing heavily, Sukuna twists back into the driver’s seat, head in his hands as he levels himself so as not to take out his frustrations on his baby brother. He isn’t even one year old, Sukuna can’t be upset with him for acting his age. He knows that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with his current reality.

Sukuna’s head pounds with each sob that tears from the boy’s lips, and after a shaky breath, Sukuna flips again in his seat, composing himself with a frown as he picks the plastic spoon back up, wiping it on his shirt once more with a slight curl of his lip, and tries again. He recalls what his dad likes to do to get Yuji’s attention, raising the tone of his voice as best as he can to mimic his father’s gentle tone.

“Look, Yu,” he holds the spoon out, waiting for the baby to react. Yuji’s cries die down as he curiously stares at his oldest brother, kicking his feet. Sukuna takes the miraculous opportunity to spoon food into the little boy’s mouth, relieved as he eats in spite of his face being drenched in his own tears.

Breathing out a sigh, Sukuna feeds the kid until he begins to rub his eyes and refuse any more, yawning as his eyelids grow heavy. Able to easily get him into a blanket in his arms, Sukuna scoops him out of his seat and finally is able to make it inside, where he’s informed to sit in the waiting area.

He’s been here a handful of times for the same reason once or twice, though he’s sat in this waiting room for other issues more times than he can count. He knows the harsh overhead lights serve a purpose, but he despises the sterile glow they provide. He’d rather sit in the dark if it means he doesn’t need to see the equally terrified and sickly faces plastered across the waiting room around him.

A man with a towel held tightly over his hand, a woman with two crying children hugged tightly to her although she’s barely holding it together herself, a kid around Sukuna’s age, maybe just barely eighteen, asleep under his coat by himself. Different people, all in different stages of their lives, all here with the same shared experience under harsh lighting.

At least the walls are a pale blue, rather than white or eggshell. He wants to think it’s the hospital designer’s way of acknowledging what’s really going on here, like the blue is meant to let everyone down easy. It’s less harsh, more solemn.

He can only pray he isn’t about to be let down as a familiar face makes their way out of the double doors at the front of the room. The attending physician who’s been here the last couple of times this has happened spots Sukuna and makes his way over.

“Hey,” Sukuna greets him, rising from the chair carefully in an effort not to wake Yuji, who’s finally resting quietly in the blanket Sukuna had wrapped him in.

“Hi, Ryomen. Your father’s stable,” the man explains, looking over the records on the clipboard in his hands.

“Thank god,” Sukuna sighs, letting out a breath.

“We do need to discuss something important, though,” the doctor adds, his gaze settling on the page before him.

Sukuna’s chest tightens as he prepares himself.

“Your father’s not responding to his medication anymore. With that being the case, we need to look at surgery now. The original procedure is off the table, we’re looking potentially at a transplant.”

Sukuna’s jaw slacks in disbelief, his back straightening as unease slithers up his spine. His lungs feel as though they’re physically shaking within his chest, squeezing the air straight from him.

“We’ll need to find an urgent donor, so we’ll keep monitoring him here until then, but you need to make the call now whether to proceed, in case he doesn’t wake up before then.”

Sukuna’s eyes shift wildly around the room, searching for something to anchor the way his skin crawls and his heart races. He adjusts his hold on Yuji, hugging the little boy tightly to his chest, though he’s careful not to disturb the baby. “Uh-” his voice breaks before he can begin. He clears his throat, starting again. “I thought the meds were working?”

“They were,” the man affirms. “The human body can change in an instant,” he explains with a shake of his head, offering a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “There’s still a lot we don’t know about it.”

Sukuna lets out a shaky breath, staring down at Yuji. “Right.”

The little boy deserves to know his father, and if this is their only change at that, then-

“Do it.”

The physician evaluates Sukuna’s expression as he nods. “I’m glad you’re open to it, though I’d like to go over the risks with you first, transplants aren’t easy on patients or surgeons. In the meantime, you’re welcome to visit him. I’ll meet you in there to discuss potential complications.”

“Thanks,” Sukuna mutters.

“Room three-one-four.”

With a grunt of acknowledgement, Sukuna passes through the double doors. He hates that he knows his way around like second nature. His dad shouldn’t be going through this to begin with, he’s too young for this shit.

Sukuna, Choso, Yuji, they all are. They’re all too young to sit by their own dad in this state.

He stands at the door to the room, feeling it hit his back and knock him past the frame before he approaches his father. Using his foot, he drags a chair closer to the hospital bed, eyes scanning the man’s pale features, unconscious on the bed. Sukuna keeps Yuji clutched tightly to his chest as he lets out a shaky breath.

Risks, huh?

He knows what that means. He supposes he should see if Choso can get dropped off at the hospital. He should be here.

Just in case.

Sukuna blinks a number of times, moving a hand up to rub his eyes and accidentally sending the paperwork on his lap across the floor. He frowns, reaching down to gather the papers and dump them back into the box he’d pulled them from.

He glances up at you as you sift through a box of mostly Choso’s baby possessions. His first onesie, his first plush, a blanket knitted by one of Kaori’s parents, a baby tooth that you visibly grimace at as it clicks what’s in the little bag you’re holding.

The next sealed bag you grasp is filled with powder that faintly glimmers with pink sparkles. “What’s this?” You query as you notice Sukuna openly staring at the bag as well.

“Tooth Fairy dust.”

Your brow raises as you hold it up to get a better look at it. “Salt and sparkles?”

“Probably,” Sukuna shrugs. “Cho stopped believing pretty quick,” he adds, choosing to omit the fact that it’s because he forgot to replace a tooth with cash.

You frown, tossing it- along with the other contents of the box- back inside and pushing it into the pile of finished boxes. Dusting your hands off with a couple of claps, you peer around, eyes landing on the last box that you think is unfinished. “Can I take that one?”

Sukuna nods, uncaring one way or the other. He just wants to be done with this, at this point. He thought since he’d already been through these files twice that he could steel himself and make it through it, but it hasn’t proven to be that easy. He’d been so sure he’d spilled enough oh his own blood that there was nothing left to bleed, a husk of his former self, but every reopened wound pulls out more from him than he ever thought possible.

You hear him sigh as the silence returns while you both read through your boxes.

The last box is labeled with the youngest Itadori’s name, though when you open it, there’s no drawings, or plushies to be found. It’s filled with paperwork from back to front and side to side. Nothing jumps out at you immediately, so you pull out the stack stuck to the leftmost side and begin sorting through it.

It’s almost all hospital records and paperwork, the whole pile. You quickly flip through what else is in the box, your brow drawn together in confusion. Had Yuji spent a long time in the hospital as a baby? Settling down to get a better look at the documents, you flip the first one open. It seems to be a document printed off the internet with general information on a disease you aren’t familiar with.

Homozygous Familial Hypocholesterolemia. HoFH, for short. Inherited genetically from both parents, and a very rare form of the disease that affects patients from a young age. It influences how the body processes cholesterol and puts those affected at a high risk of heart disease at a young age.

You skim the remainder of the document, lips pursed in confusion as you flip to the next page. Does Yuji have HoFH? You know the document details that it affects kids at a young age, but you would think it would have come up by now.

The next document seems to be the second or third page from some sort of hospital discharge planner with a detailed recovery plan listing a number of prescribed drugs and when to take them in order to prevent heart failure, along with an extremely detailed health and diet plan in order to help the body accept a heart transplant.

Your chest tightens and you check the name on the outside of the box again. It does say Yuji’s name, but you get the feeling these files have nothing to do with him.

Frowning, you quickly flip through paperwork until you find exactly what you’re looking for.

Jin Itadori. HoFH. Heart Disease. Acute Heart Failure. Acute Cellular Rejection.

Your fingers pause on the page as the weight of the loss buried within the box settles in and you frown, sparing a glance up at Sukuna. You delicately and neatly put the paperwork back into a pile, setting it atop the box, and slide it across to him.

“I don’t think I should look through this one,” you tell him softly, your voice low with sympathy.

Attempting to rub the pounding in his head away, Sukuna presses circles into his forehead with the pad of his thumb before looking up at you with a pained sigh. It’s clear that he wants nothing more than for this to be over and it’s getting increasingly difficult to flip through the pages without losing himself in one memory after another, each one tearing away the scabs of old scars.

Dragging his hand down his face, he pulls the box towards himself in exasperation, his eyes skimming the paper you’d placed in a pile atop the box. This is the only box he deems not to check each time, because he knows the contents like the back of his hand. It’s one of the few he’d packed rather than Uraume, over the course of the year that his father had grown ill. The front is shoved full of dumbass brochures on how to handle Heart Disease and transplants, and one of the last things at the very back of the box, poking its corner out, is the obituary he’d been forced to write.

Sukuna’s fingers tapped along the top of the page, his eyes drawn to the photo he’d chosen for the column. Is that what you call an obituary? A column? Makes it sound like some sort of drama piece. He supposes that maybe that’s fitting, given the drama his life had become.

From appointments to unanswered phone calls to lawyers and social workers, followed by funeral arrangements, the most daunting task isn’t even the obituary that he’s struggling with. It’s the baby sound asleep in his little cradle… thing. That, and the kid clinging to his writing arm, watching as Sukuna struggles to figure out how to write an obituary.

Choso’s sitting on his knees in a chair he’s pulled up next to his older brother. Each time he shuffles, he tugs Sukuna’s hoodie, choking him and grating further and further on his nerves.

“Cut it out!” He hisses finally, shooting his little brother a sharp glare.

The little boy looks up at him, his expression entirely unreadable. Sukuna had expected him to be upset at the very least, but he’s just… nothing.

That’s been the case since Jin died.

Pure, unwavering silence.

Sukuna hears the older of his two brothers crying alone at night sometimes, but he doesn’t have it in him to face the kid. He blames himself for a portion of it as it stands, and that only weighs heavier on his conscience. It’s not like lashing out is helping, but his anger towards the world clouds his judgement.

It shouldn’t have happened like this. Sukuna followed every guideline to a T, and made sure his father did too.

So why the hell did his body reject the transplant? It had to be some sort of cruel joke that Sukuna swears he should wake up from any moment now, because this is too much. It’s all too much.

He wrenches his arm out of his little brother’s grip, leaning back in his seat and pushing his hand through his hair. His chest is painfully tight as he captures another glance at his father’s photo. Maybe it’s just the angle, but it feels as though he’s judging Sukuna’s behavior. He’d be disappointed, if he could see what had become of his family, and what had become of Sukuna.

Before Jin had passed, Sukuna had long grown out of his anger towards the world. Jin had labeled it as a ‘rebellious phase’, although Sukuna knows the cause of that ‘phase’ was Kaori. The anger he feels now, it’s not like back then. Sure, he’s always been on the quieter side and not an overly enthusiastic or emotive person, but he wouldn’t have called himself an angry guy. Now, he thinks the label might make sense.

Jin had been so proud of him, even just a couple of months ago when he’d awoken from his heart surgery.

He’d thanked Sukuna for being there for him, and for taking care of the kids. Then, without so much as a break to rest, he’d immediately taken over in caring for them all, again. After the first few weeks, he’d even been able to take some steps on his own. There’d been so much progress, and the whole family’s spirits lifted.

Then, out of nowhere, acute cellular rejection. He’d gotten a fever, and that was it. Sukuna had let Choso say his goodbyes before sending him out of the room. The two Itadori brothers had sat alone on the other side of the wall with the seven-year-old watching his baby brother, while Sukuna held his father’s hand as the light behind his eyes faded.

He turns his gaze back towards Choso, examining the way the little boy quietly sits and stares at the page in front of Sukuna, blank aside from a few scribbled out phrases.

The oldest clenches his jaw.

Choso’s mother should be here. Kaori should fucking be here now. How many more missed calls before Sukuna needs to accept the reality that he’s a guardian to two kids while trying to make his way through college?

It’s not a life he wants, nor one he ever prepared for, and he’ll hold it against his step-mother until the day he croaks. Not just for himself, but for Jin. For his brothers.

With anger festering in his chest, he doesn’t realize how hard he’s pressing the pencil he’d picked back up at some point into the paper until the lead snaps from the pressure. The sound brings him back and he stares at the blank page.

He should just try this again later. Maybe it’ll be easier when Choso’s asleep.

He drops the pencil with a heavy sigh, pushing away from the kitchen table with the heavy scrape of a chair. The sun is setting anyway, he should just make dinner.

He turns to his brother, one hand on the open freezer door. “Chicken fingers?”

No reaction.

“Uh-” he swaps to the pantry. “Veggie soup?”

Nothing.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, staring at what’s left of the food from their last shopping trip. “Do you just want cereal, or somethin’?” He shrugs, turning back to the little boy.

No reply, but there’s a shift in his expression.

“Fine,” Sukuna relents, too tired to worry about the fact that his little brother is having cereal for the third dinner in a row.

The little boy slides off the chair, making his way over to Sukuna to be handed a box of Froot Loops and a bowl. His older brother helps to pour the milk before turning on the oven to throw in some spicy chicken pockets for himself. He supposes he can’t judge his little brother when he’s been living off of these for the better part of a week.

He leans back against the counter, watching his little brother silently stare at the multi-colored cheerios in his bowl as they soak up milk.

They’re both shadows of what they once were. Him, and Choso. He knows it’s not fair of him to pull away from the boy, but he’s never been great at managing his emotions, now it’s simply amplified by the situation they’re caught in.

How is he ever meant to take a step in Jin’s shoes when his own barely seemed to fit?

He’s failing his brothers, and he’s failing his father. Hell, he can’t even write an obituary. He’s never been good with words and nothing seems to do his father justice.

His thoughts gnaw at him, even as the oven beeps to let him know it’s preheated, he doesn’t move a muscle, not until Choso has dumped his bowl into the sink and quietly slunk off to his room. It’s then that Sukuna feels everything pressing in on him.

“What am I supposed to do?” He mutters to himself, his eyes hot and watery, as though somewhere his dad might hear him and give him a sign. But this isn’t some sort of fairy tale and he’s hit with the harsh reality that he doesn’t get a happy ending like that.

Sukuna shakes his head as you call his name, bringing him out of his thoughts like a damn life preserver saving him from drowning.

He’s sick of it. Sick and fucking tired of reliving all of these moments, of being forced to recall the way his father deteriorated. Most of all though, he feels shame. Shame, and rage towards himself for how he’d handled everything. His brother only ever seeked comfort from him and what the hell did he do? Shove him off.

For fuck’s sake, he was seven. He didn’t know any better. Probably didn’t even understand what was going on, and Sukuna pushed him away. The guilt eats away at him still, and he wants so badly to go back in time and fix things. The struggle to take care of two kids is one thing, but fuck, he wishes he could go back, erase some of the things he said.

He never meant a word of it. He never meant half of his actions. He was just a kid too, angry at the world with no way to express it.

Yet somehow, they still chose him, didn’t they? Both Yuji and Choso clung to him like their life depended on it, like he’d somehow made their lives better and now more than ever he struggles to see how he could have ever earned that trust, that love from them. Somewhere along the line, they became his world. His family. His anchors.

He wishes he could grab his younger self by the collar and shake some sense into him in order to get him to step up and be the brother those two kids deserve.

He supposes that’s why they’re not with him now, though. He’s never been what they deserve. And as he sees the contents of the final box which have no information regarding Kaori, with very little to work with as new evidence, he thinks that maybe this is just the way things should be.

His jaw tightens, and he scowls as he quickly picks the pile up, opting to shove it forcefully back where it had come from, only for it to get caught on something.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters, attempting to shove them in with more force.

Sensing his distress, you shuffle forward on the floor until you’re in front of the box, one hand over his as you gently take the stack from his hands, pulling it back out to adjust it and see what was preventing it from being replaced.

At the bottom of the box is a paper folded neatly into three like a letter ready to be slid into an envelope. You pull it out, setting it aside on one of the boxes you’ve already searched as you neatly tuck the stack of paper back into place.

Catching a glimpse of handwriting on the paper you’ve set aside as the tri-folded paper pops open, Sukuna’s scowl remains in place as he reaches forward to grab it. He slides his thumb along the side of the page, letting the contents of the paper breathe for the first time in four years, unbeknownst to him.

The paper itself is torn from a staff hospital notebook with the facility logo in the corner. It’s lined, with shaky and smudged blue ink spanning the top three quarters of the page. The writing is somewhere between the bubbly and easy-to-read print of a teacher and cursive, though the shakiness of the writer’s hand means it’s no longer as easy to read as it clearly once was.

His eyes scale the length of the page without reading a word for longer than he’d care to admit as he takes in the state of his father’s writing. It’s not hard to deduce when this was written without even reading a word, and that pains him so much that he finds his own hands trembling, afraid to read the text written out before him. He’s not certain that he’s ready to face whatever Jin likely wanted his last words to his eldest son to be.

When he collapsed a month after his operation, when his body rejected his heart, there had been a moment in the hospital that burned itself into Sukuna’s mind. With Yuji in Sukuna’s arms and Choso curled into Jin’s side on the bed, the eldest son had exchanged a look with his father, one that said what they were both thinking.

Jin’s time had become limited. The dour exchange made Sukuna want to get down on his knees and beg for another chance, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Jin looked tired. More tired than Sukuna feels now, and he thinks it was that weariness that told them both that it was time.

Shuffling his hands over the paper, he snaps himself out of his trance. He holds the page taut as his eyes finally settle at the top when he finds some courage.

Ryomen.

I hope by now that you know this, otherwise maybe I haven’t done my job well enough (haha!) but I’m so proud of you. I know how tough the last year has been, but I’m so grateful I got to see you graduate and be there for your first day at college. Thanks for looking after your old man, too. Obviously I made it look easy, but taking care of the three of you is no joke.

Sukuna stiffens, his jaw clenching as he feels pressure build within his chest. A lump forms at the back of his throat as his lip minutely trembles.

You’re a good kid, and I know you’ll nail whatever you put your mind to. If I’m being honest, I was surprised you chose the same major as me, even if I’m proud to see you follow in my footsteps. I think I always expected you to go into art. Maybe I didn’t do a very good job of telling you that I’ll support you no matter what you chose, I just want you to be happy. Or maybe you like history more than I realized! I did make it pretty fun to learn, hey? Maybe I’m a better professor than I thought, haha!

Sukuna’s eyes burn and he blinks, rubbing them with a thumb and forefinger. He stares for a moment down at his hand, wet with warm tears that he can’t feel running down his cheeks, his face otherwise numb from the tension of his grinding teeth.

I wish I could continue to watch the three of you grow. You’re so good with your brothers, it’s always made me happy to see Choso follow you and Toji around. I know I’m supposed to scold you for spray painting around him, but I was just happy to see you including him. Someday, maybe that’ll be Yuji that Choso is including with his friends. Keep an eye on them for me, yeah?

I know you and your step-mom had your fair share of issues, but she told me she’d look out for you. She’s coming back, and she said she’ll make sure there’s space for all three of you until

Sukuna blinks. He flips the page, but the text simply… ends. He inhales shakily as he scans the front of the paper again as though he somehow missed the rest of the letter, but there’s nothing more. Sure, he was nearly at the bottom, but he couldn’t have meant to end it there, right?

You sit with your hands in your lap as you quietly watch Sukuna read the folded paper you’d set aside. You watch as he flips it once, twice, his jaw set with tension and eyes reddened with the streaks of the tears that have run down his cheeks as he searches for something. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he sets the paper aside and drops down to his knees on the floor across from you, beginning to pull documents out of the box, scrutinizing each one.

Your lips purse as his movements grow increasingly urgent, no longer setting the paperwork aside but rather tossing it. Sitting up on your knees, you shuffle towards him, frowning as you gather the paperwork back together into a pile where he’s tossed it aside.

“Is everything okay?” You ask softly, but he’s so caught up in whatever it is that he’s searching for that your words barely register in his mind.

Hospital discharge papers, prescription information, insurance claims, legal documents, that damn obituary that he’s still ashamed of.

It didn’t matter how many times he rewrote it, Sukuna had always been bad with words. There was nothing overtly personal about it, about as generic as an obituary gets, and fuck Jin deserved better than that. His hand trembles as he stares at the paper, unaware of his own strangled gasps as his grip tightens and the paper crinkles.

Attempting to prevent what feels inevitable, you sit up on your knees and attempt to take his hand and grab his attention. Before you can, the obituary slips from between his fingers and he continues digging through the box. His movements grow erratic, tossing paper anywhere in the hopes of finding something that answers the question of what remained to be said.

“Sukuna, stop,” you softly attempt to urge him as you reach for his hands, but he pulls away, intentionally dodging you. His breathing, the tears, his movements, it all grows increasingly manic by the minute, so you try again to reach out. This time, you’re faster. Your hands grip his wrists, gentle but firm as you momentarily halt his movements. “Stop,” you whisper.

“It has to be here, I-” he pauses, but you can tell even he isn’t really sure what he’s saying. “There has to be more.” With that, he pulls himself from your grasp and tosses the remaining neatly stacked paperwork from the box, searching whatever has fallen to the bottom as though there might be another tri-folded paper hidden as well as the first one was.

He sifts through long-dried sticky notes and half-crumpled hospital documentation, continuing to mutter to himself that there has to be more as he ignores every attempt you make to slow his movements and bring him back down to earth. When nothing seems to work and you find your own anxiety bubbling up into your throat at the sight of your friend- hell, the man you love- so broken, you do the only thing you can think of.

“Sukuna, please,” you beg, your voice barely above a whisper as your hands settle on his cheeks. They’re warm with his tears in contrast to your cold fingers, and you feel him stiffen under your touch, his movements coming to a halt. His chest rises and falls heavily as his fingers slow and the sticky note he was holding falls from the tips of his fingers. “Please,” you repeat quietly.

With labored breaths, his gaze rises to meet yours, flickering between your eyes as he searches for answers that he won’t find. Not with you, and not within the box. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, it’s then that he breaks. He grits his teeth harder, if that’s even possible, leaning on the edges of the box. He grips the cardboard so hard that one edge nearly collapses under the force of his hand as finally the tears in his eyes fall freely.

He’s deathly quiet, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and gathering along your palms as he blinks and averts his gaze. His face is warm with his frustration, confusion, and unadulterated melancholy, but the worst feeling of it all is chagrin.

If Jin only knew all the way Sukuna would let him down in the future, the brute’s not so sure his father would have written something of the sort.

You give Sukuna time to let everything he’d bottled up out in the open air and catch his breath, swiping away any stray tears with your thumbs as you keep your grip steady, fighting your own shakiness in order to do so. As his breathing evens, you slowly and carefully nudge the box between you off to the side and out of his grasp and shuffle forward. You let your fingers slide back through his hair and pull his face into your shoulder, letting him relax into you as you rake your fingers soothingly through pink strands.

His hands find purchase on your waist for a moment, before his arms slide around you. He pulls you closer, your body slotting against his like you belong, and he feels the slight vibration of your voice as you speak quietly.

“What was on the paper?”

You feel him swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing against your collarbone. “A letter,” he mumbles hoarsely. “From my dad.”

You nod slightly. “What else were you looking for?”

His grip on you tightens. “The letter-” he pauses, sighing against you, “- it’s not done.”

You shift slightly, looking over his head tucked into your shoulder to the letter folded on the couch. “Like, he didn’t finish writing it?”

He shakes his head against you. “It just ends.”

Nodding slowly, you turn your attention back down to Sukuna, who’s hunched forward in such a way that it can’t be comfortable given how much taller he is than you. “Can I read it?”

His chest rises and falls slowly. “Yeah.”

You pull back from him, sliding your hands back through his hair and down his cheeks with a solemn expression as you separate yourself from him to pick up the letter. Taking a seat on the couch, Sukuna plops down beside you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

The feeling you would describe upon reading the letter is wistful. A musing sadness, mixed with a yearning desire for Sukuna to find peace. Ever since he told you of his father’s passing, you’ve sensed that he never really got the opportunity to grieve, to understand, and to forgive himself for the blame he’s clearly taken when no one is at fault.

Jin’s writing dissipates three quarters of the way down the page. There’s more than enough space for him to have continued, but time clearly wasn’t on Jin’s side, and he’d run out of it before he could finish. You can understand why Sukuna so desperately searched for an end to the letter, but seeing it for yourself, you know he won’t find it. You can see in his eyes that he knows that, too.

The letter may not offer any real parting words given that it’s unfinished, but you can only hope that it’ll offer your friend the closure he desperately seeks.

“Your dad seems really nice.”

His head tilts back to look at you as he nods.

“Was he the kind of dad that made a lot of jokes?”

“Constantly,” he mumbles. “Y’know what one of the last things he said to me was?”

You tilt your head at him.

He lets out a short breath through his nose, shaking his head at the mere thought. “He told me he was glad he made it through his book about anti-gravity.”

Your brow furrows momentarily, but when it comes to you, you find yourself with a small, wry, smile. “Because he couldn’t put it down?”

The faintest hint of a quirk pulls at the edge of his lips as he stares at the pile of paper scattered around your feet. “Guess that’s a common one,” he mutters.

You shrug with one shoulder. “My dad’s a connoisseur too.”

Sukuna’s gaze slides to the side as he eyes you through his peripherals. His hair falls forward over his forehead, blocking most of his view of you, but sharp crimson irises peek through the curtain of pink as he examines the gentle and caring look on your face. Raising a hand, he pushes his hair back, tilting his head more towards you as he catches a glimpse of the tired look you seem to be trying hard to hide, probably for his sake.

A pang of guilt tugs at his chest at the realization that everything has been so focused on him that he’s failed to ask about you.

Fuck, he thinks he may even have never asked about you. Surely he must have, but… he can’t think of a particular moment. The shame makes his skin crawl and he damn near wishes he could crawl right out of it in an effort to rid himself of the feeling.

Maybe he can at least right his wrongs now.

So, he tests the water. “What’s…” he pauses, still leaning forward on his knees. “What’s he like? Your dad.”

You blink a couple of times, glancing off to the side in thought. “He works hard. My parents both do. They work hard to make sure I can be here, in school. It’s why my scholarship is so important,” you begin, considering Sukuna’s question. “I guess… he’s a little bit strict, but he’s always been really supportive. Money is really tight, you know? But…” you pause, smiling, “him and my mom work extra hours to make sure I get to go to school. They help with everything the scholarship doesn’t cover.” You smile at the thought, staring down at the letter held within your hands. It’s clear that Sukuna’s dad felt the same way. “Your dad seemed really proud, too.”

You twist the conversation so naturally back to Sukuna, and he blinks as his opportunity to check in on you seems to dwindle, and he isn’t quite sure how to turn things back. Still, he replies. “Yeah. Back then, maybe.”

You frown, eyeing Sukuna’s contemplative scowl. “He’d still be proud, Kuna. I know it.”

Doing his best to brush past the nickname that he’s still struggling to handle, he sighs. “I don’t think he’d be thrilled to know I dropped out, or lost the kids.”

“None of that is your fault,” you point out, holding the letter pointedly towards Sukuna. He glances down at the paper, sitting upright and leaning over to look at it as you hold it out. “Kaori made promises she didn’t keep.”

“Maybe she really was sick.” The defeat in his tone is devastating from someone who holds that woman in the lowest possible regard.

“You don’t mean that.” You know he doesn’t. He knows he doesn’t. You turn slightly towards him on the couch, your gaze flickering around his reddened eyes and slightly puffy cheeks. “Why do you blame yourself for all of this?”

He doesn’t move for a moment, his brow twitching as his scowl deepens. You wonder briefly if he’s ever even thought about the answer to that question, if maybe it comes from a place of self-loathing so deep-seated that he’s never once stopped to consider it. Your question is quickly extinguished like a flame underwater when he doesn’t so much as waver when he replies.

“I don’t blame myself for his death, or the shit Kaori pulled,” he explains grimly, his eyes darkening a shade as somewhere within him a wall is broken down as he allows himself to be vulnerable with you. Truly, and utterly vulnerable. “I blame myself for the fact that I’m in this damn position to begin with.”

Unsure of the meaning behind his admission, you set a hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sure Kaori lied about a lotta shit,” he shrugs, staring ahead blankly at the wall behind the TV. “But everything she said about me was true. I didn’t…” he trails off, harshly raking his hands through his hair. “I didn’t even know Cho was being bullied.”

Frowning, you run your hand up and down his spine as he leans forward on his knees again. His eyes briefly flicker shut, a sense of calm flooding him as you attempt to soothe his nerves.

Sukuna allows himself a moment to bask in the silence. It’s funny, he thinks, how difficult it seems to let someone in, to air out your stress, and yet this is the first time since he lost the kids that his mind isn’t screaming at him. There’s no flood of self-deprecating thoughts or doubts, no ‘what if’s clawing at his throat and pressing down on his chest. It’s just open air and acceptance, because you never judge or pity him.

His eyes flicker back open, the dark circles beneath them more apparent now than ever. “When Dad died, I was so fuckin’ angry at the world,” he shakes his head, “I never meant to, but I took it out on Choso.” He shuffles to put his head in his hands. “I always wonder if I’m the reason he’s so quiet now,” he admits, muffled from behind his hands. “I know I’m all they had, but-” he shakes his head. “It doesn’t make all the doubts any easier.”

You shuffle closer to him, your thigh brushing his as you drape an arm over him in a makeshift hug. Your warmth and weight seems to lighten the pressure in his chest, even if only for a moment. Resting your cheek on his sculpted back, you run your thumb up and down his side softly. “You’re a good brother, Kuna,” you whisper. His muscles ripple beneath you, something you’ve begun to catch onto. “Your dad said so himself.”

He lifts his head from his hands, letting his eyes adjust for a moment before searching for the letter, settled in your lap. He sits upright, careful to let you slide off of his back without disturbing you too much. Slowly, he flattens the letter within his fingers again, listening only to the distant sounds of cars passing by outside the apartment. His eyes slowly move across the page as he takes in the words once more, settling within him with a sense of finality, rather than the anxiety that had threatened to drown him barely fifteen minutes ago.

You’re so good with your brothers.

With a long, deep inhalation, he grips the paper a bit harder.

Keep an eye on them for me, yeah?

Still, he frowns. He’d dropped out of school and lost his brothers. The two things his dad had asked of him. He can feel your eyes on him, examining the way he stares dejectedly at the scribbled words. He can see a question within those pretty irises of yours, held within the way you purse your lips. He answers before you can ask what he’s thinking.

“He asked me to look out for them, and I-” he shakes his head and shrugs, waving his hands through the air pointlessly.

You nod in understanding. “When do you get to visit them?”

Sukuna scoffs. “Today. She cancelled, shocker.”

Fuck. You had hoped that maybe she would prove both you and Sukuna wrong, but that’s clearly not the case.

“Dunno what the hell I’m supposed to do. There’s nothing here,” he gruffs, hopelessly motioning to the pile of paperwork scattered across the floor and within boxes. You know he has a point, there’s nothing here that won’t get the appeal request denied instantly as far as you can tell, but it’s not in your character to just give up.

It’s not who he is, either. But you hold the pieces of yourself close to your heart, while Sukuna’s are scattered across the floor with the paperwork at your feet. You can see it in the way he doubts himself, how he pauses whenever he gets a glimpse of a mirror, and now he’s flinching at the sound of his own nickname.

He’s lost himself.

“That’s not your fault. He wouldn’t blame you. He would see Kaori for who she really is,” you decide, steeling your own resolve as you attempt to take the blame from him and place it with whom it belongs.

He doesn’t reply, staring at the letter as he contemplates where it ends. He can only assume it was written at the hospital bed where his father passed, but how did Sukuna miss the letter? How did it end up in the box? Had he read it years ago and buried it so deeply within his psyche that it came across as new to him? Hollowly, he shakes his head at the mere thought. He’s not sure he could do such a thing. Not when this is the closest thing to closure that he’ll deem to get.

Silence hangs heavily over your heads, but the shared space held between you is comfortable. Your thighs are still pressed together, his bulky bicep brushing yours each time he shuffles. You help bear the weight of his troubles without so much as a peep.

It’s just who you are, and makes you far more fitting of the nickname he has for you, that he’s always thought was a little too sweet coming from him. Maybe it’s been more fitting than he thought all along, though.

“Are you okay, princess?” He asks out of the blue, finally finding the opportunity to ask the question that had been plaguing him for the better part of the last twenty minutes.

You straighten, eyes wide with confusion. “Yeah, why?”

Sitting upright, he tilts his head to get a better look at you. “You’re startin’ to look like me.”

Your brow furrows slightly as you try to make heads or tails of what he means. “Buff?” You ask lightheartedly.

“No, smartass,” he scoffs. “You wish.” He lets the teasing quip hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Tired.”

“Oh!” You nod slightly, considering where he’s coming from. “Yeah, I guess. I’m fine though, really.”

Sukuna’s no fool, he can tell you’re hiding your emotions. He’s spent the better part of the last four years with a little brother who hides behind silence when he’s upset and in comparison to Choso, you’re easy to read. “C’mon, princess. Your turn,” he offers you the floor, waving his hand through the air as he leans back against the couch.

With pursed lips, you fiddle with your fingers uncertainly. Of course, he is right. You’ve been struggling a lot recently, and Kento’s told you time and time again that your emotions and stress are just as valid as Sukuna’s, even if his issues feel greater, but…

It doesn’t make it easier to admit to someone who you can’t even really say has seemed like himself in months.

“You don’t need to worry about it, Sukuna,” you brush him off, careful to use his full name. He doesn’t seem as bothered by it. His eye does twitch, but that might just be because you’re attempting to deflect.

You do so much for him, you push him to talk, and yet you won’t.

How frustrating.

Okay, so maybe he gets it, now. It is annoying.

“Princess,” he deadpans with an unimpressed curl to his lip. “What’s goin’ on?”

Sighing, you shake your head. “It’s not a big deal, really,” you attempt to brush off his concerns, but he’s staring at you pointedly now. “I just- um- I’m worried about my scholarship,” you admit. “But I’ll figure it out! It’s really not a big deal,” you quickly add before he can chime in.

He scowls in confusion. “What’s happening with your scholarship?” He queries.

“I- um-” you search for an explanation that doesn’t place the blame on him given that you’ve been helping him so much that your study time went to the wayside. “I missed a paper,” you sigh, deciding on something that might spare him a bit of stress. “It’s stupid, I thought it was due Wednesday but it was due Monday and the prof won’t let me make it up,” you shrug. “And now I’m kinda just behind.”

He nods slowly, staring down again at the letter in his lap. He sets it aside on one of the boxes, wrapping a bulky arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze. “If you’ve got a history class to study for, let me know.”

You chuckle. “Not this semester, but thanks, Kuna.”

He inhales sharply, nodding. His arm doesn’t move from its place as the both of you sit there, silently comforted by one another within your shared stress. Within the warmth of his arm, tucked into his side with your head resting on his pec, things don’t feel quite so bad.

That is, until the realization of just how close you really are sets in, and your poor heart begins to race and a pang of pain overtakes the comfort. You do what you can not to make a big deal of it, sighing as you sit back up and pull yourself from his grasp. You tell yourself it’ll be easier this way. It’s better you let yourself down than have him do it again. You’ll heal in due time, but you need to allow yourself the opportunity to do so. You need to separate the comfort you offer him from the confusing signals he sends you.

“I’ll handle this,” you offer in a mutter, looking for anything to create some space between the both of you as you slip down onto the floor and carefully gather the paperwork at your knees.

Sukuna examines you carefully, trying to make sense of where you stand as friends. It’s strange the way the lines seem blurred and one moment he’s certain you share his feelings, but the next moment… He watches the way you push away from him to gather the paper at your knees.

“I’ll help, just… gimme a moment,” he grumbles behind you, making his way to the washroom.

You breathe out a sigh when the door clicks behind him and the sink turns on. You shouldn’t even be thinking about a romantic relationship between all of the issues you’ve already got to deal with.

How are you even meant to think like that when Sukuna can’t bear the sound of the name that you and the kids call him? You scarcely catch a glimpse of the man you’ve grown so fond of over the last few months, the last thing he needs to add to his plate is romance.

Your eyes scan the contents of each of the pages before you as you sweep them up into a pile, heart sinking with the words strewn across each page, and the knowledge that Sukuna would have just barely been an adult as this was all happening. To need to list your own child as an emergency contact when they’re barely an adult is a terrifying thought.

Casting the thoughts aside, you finish gathering the last of the paperwork and shove it as neatly as possible into the box, taking the lid and shutting it before pushing it aside. Only a couple of documents aside from the letter were taken from the boxes, but Sukuna’s right to say they don’t consist of enough evidence to sway a court that’s clearly already under Kaori’s influence to Sukuna’s side.

Frowning, you take a seat on the couch once more, awaiting Sukuna’s return. You can still hear the sink running, so you find your eyes running along the familiar TV stand and shelves before you find your old GameCube tucked aside.

With Sukuna taking as long as he is, you take the opportunity to move the GameCube back to its original spot (conveniently in the center of the floor, of course) and flip open the disc reader, pulling out a Sonic game and popping in your old Animal Crossing game. Taking a seat back on the couch with an indigo controller in-hand, you wait for all the logos to finish crossing the screen before starting your old save file.

You occupy yourself with trying to figure out how to find bugs and catch neat fish once again when you finally hear Sukuna shut the water off and the handle of the door slightly jiggle. When he re-emerges, his hair is slightly damp near his forehead and a single drop of water drips from his chin to the hardwood below.

He takes in the somewhat cleaner living space and nods to you as thanks, taking a seat beside you and draping his arms across the back of the couch. His forearm brushes the back of your head as he blankly stares at the screen, watching as you run up to a little pink bear villager. An exclamation forms over her head as she notices you, before dropping what might be the funniest line Sukuna’s ever seen from a very family friendly game as the little bear proceeds to say ‘woah! You look so weird! And not weird in a hip way, either. More like, “weird” as in “makes me wanna barf.”’

He snorts. “Isn’t this game for kids?”

Giggling, you nod. “It is. They used to be really mean in the old games, though.”

Sukuna hums.

“Here, hold on.” You leave the dialogue with the bear villager, wandering around until you find the character that was your biggest hater when you were, like, seven. You spot the white cat with purple makeup and run over to her. “I spent so many hours as a kid trying to figure out how to get her to leave my town,” you explain.

“They can leave?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, doing little circles around her as you chat. “She made me cry as a kid, so I sent her hate mail-”

“Hold on,” Sukuna’s chest rumbles at the sheer amount of childhood information that one sentence just unloaded onto him. “You and your lil’ Flower character sent hate mail? You cried?”

You laugh harder, subconsciously leaning into him as he slides somewhat towards you. “Yeah, to both. She was really mean and my friend told me that’s how you get them to move away, so I wrote to her every day to tell her I hate her,” you speak through laughter, throwing your head back.

Even Sukuna seems himself for a moment with a tired smile as he chuckles alongside you, comfortably reclining his feet onto the coffee table. “Christ, princess.”

“The hate mail obviously didn’t work,” you add, finally approaching the cat and speaking with her. You can’t say you’re shocked when she says ‘what’s with you!! Get away from me! You smell!!’

Sukuna snorts again, his chest continuing to rumble with laughter. “Dunno. Maybe she’s right.”

Pouting, you shove Sukuna’s chest, but he hardly budges as he snickers at your side. You roll your eyes as you settle back into place, falling into easy conversation about the goal of the game and why you stopped playing as a kid.

For a moment, Sukuna doesn’t feel quite so hollow. As though maybe the piece of him that crumbled when his father passed can be mended with the revelation of the letter, and the piece of him that you keep within your heart is being held in place, just for a brief moment in time.

He finds himself staring at you more intently than usual, a calm, albeit weary look in his eyes. He settles comfortably into the couch, leaning back into the cushions and eyeing the way the green and blue tint of light from the TV illuminates your features and shines within your irises.

When it comes to you, Sukuna knows he’s a fool. He’s messed up so many times that the look of hurt on your face that he caused is something he knows he’ll be living with for a long time, but he feels like a fool now more than ever. He wants to think that maybe you still have feelings for him, he wants to think that maybe it isn’t just him that finds peace with you subtly tucked into his side, and yet…

You always pull away. And he can’t tell if you’re scared, or if you don’t feel the same way at all.

He frowns, staring down at his lap. Is he that much of a coward that he can’t just ask?

He contemplates it, examining the little content smile on your face.

Yeah, he thinks he is.

Yawning, you catch a glimpse of the time on your phone. “I should probably get going,” you say softly, saving the game and quitting. Sukuna grunts quietly, yawning himself. His eyes don’t leave you as you begin gathering your belongings, shrugging a jacket over your shoulders. “What do you think you’re gonna do next?” You query as you pull your keys from your bag.

He shrugs. “Dunno,” he admits quietly. “Guess I’ll talk to my lawyer again,” he sighs, shrugging hopelessly. “I think my only option is to sue her for not lettin’ me see the kids for visitation.”

You frown. It’s not ideal in the slightest, nor is it what any of you want, but at least he isn’t completely giving up. In fact, he seems okay right now. His breathing is deep and even and his jaw isn’t set with tension. There’s even a sliver of the Sukuna you’ve grown to care very deeply for peeking out at you.

“I’ll let you know what the lawyer says. Maybe there’s another way,” he mumbles from where he sits on the couch.

In comparison to the complete and utter defeat he’d been struggling with, this is a positive change. He’s more present than you’ve seen him in ages, and the drive to do right by his brothers has a flame lit beneath it once more, even if it’s not the brightest.

You smile softly. “Sounds good. See you at work Tuesday?”

“Mm. See ya, princess.”

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❦ a/n ; i got a little carried away again with this chapter again LOL i hope everyone enjoyed the long chap!! this was such a challenging chapter to write when it came to keeping sukuna in character, while exploring different parts of his life, times when he wasn't quite so angry. the way he's grumbly and tired but still kinda happy at his grad might be one of my fave scenes tbh

i also really enjoyed writing for jin, even if it was just a bit. adding the little pieces of his personality to the letter was such a bittersweet moment as a writer to kinda wrap up a character i've teased so often :') i love these characters sm

anyway, thank you all for sticking with me for my very long and very slow burn LOL, ily guys and i hope you all enjoyed <33

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

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@toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @moonchhu

@privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast

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

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

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yelenasbraid · 3 months ago

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JOE BURROW — maintaining professionalism [ pt. 7 ]

series summary — She’s a witty, stubborn athletic trainer for the Cincinnati Bengals. He’s the star quarterback who can’t take his eyes off of her. The more she works with him, the stronger the magnetic pull. She’ll do anything to maintain professionalism, and he’ll do anything to get the girl.

chapter summary — He finally gets the chance to show her how often he thinks about her.

warnings — fem!reader, SMUT (MDNI ‼️), fluff, joe is so horny my god

note — sorry for the late update! i’ve been grinding for the past few hours and wanted to get it out before i overthought too much. pls enjoy!!

tags — @starsinthesky5 @definitelynotdomanique @majestic87 @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @belleann23 @wickedfun9 @hannahjessica113 @kravitzwhore @musicforsnoopy @burreauxsss @grandpeachpersona @inlovewithcarsthatrunreallyfast @noeesd19 @burrowswomen @xbriexx @grittysbiggestfan @dboanalagoaaoo @harryweeniee @kazsbrckkers @wellwellhereiam @hotburreaux

“JOE,” SHE MOANED, his lips peppering down her jawline, down to her neck, “not here,”

“Then where?” he hummed against her neck. His hands gripped her hips, massaging her through the fabric of her clothes. Her mind was blurred, her neck tilted, revealing more of her beautiful skin.

Joe was supposed to go home after she confessed her feelings for him. He was supposed to get rest, to heal the parts of his body that were sore from the game. After she’d confessed, he didn’t think about anything else. All he wanted was her.

Which led him to keeping her in his arms, his lips peppering down her body, outlets for the pent up desire that raged through him.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, one of her hands digging into his curls, her fingers pressing into his scalp. A low, soft moan vibrated against her skin.

“My place,” Joe decided, his teeth nipping at a sensitive spot on her neck. Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around his curls.

“Yeah, sounds good,” she breathed, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as his lips sucked at her skin. Her body ached, tendrils of warmth latching onto her nerves and pulling her closer to Joe. Her pussy throbbed, swelling at the mere thought of having Joe in the most intimate of ways.

timeskip — at Joe’s house

His house was beautiful. Warm, bright lights illuminated the door as Joe stepped up to unlock it. He led her inside, keeping his hand intertwined with hers.

His heart thudded against his chest. He shouldn’t be nervous, but it was her. The woman he’d fallen for, the one who’d managed to wiggle her way into his heart. He didn’t want to let her go, and he wanted her in ways that were unprofessional.

Yet he didn’t care.

He led her into the bedroom, the moonlight streaming through the curtains. He shut the door behind them with a soft click, their breaths only filling the room. He stepped up to her, watching as she looked up at him.

Her eyes are sparkling. They’re beautiful as they look up at him, twinkling with the shared desire they both felt. He backed her onto the bed and she laid against the plush mattress. Her heart is racing, her skin warm as he hovers over her.

It’s the moment they’ve both been waiting for. The months of tension that led to this very moment, the warm intimacy that coursed through their veins. Joe settled down on his elbows and captures her lips in a slow, sensual kiss. She inhaled deeply through her nose, her arms looping around his neck. His lips were warm, slotting perfectly against hers. It ignited her body, her nerves wired with the need that wound in her gut.

Joe pulled away, but only to pepper kisses down her jawline and down her neck. She tasted so sweet, and the soft breaths she gave him fueled the fire in his gut. One of his hands threaded through her hair, gently tugging her head to the side. Her eyes were closed, lips parted with the breaths that left her lungs.

With every kiss, he grew more desperate. His fingers moved to the hem of her shirt, his skin brushing with hers. Tingles prickled her skin as his hands dove under her shirt, pushing the fabric over her bra-clad breasts. He parted from her neck, leaving her breathless. He tugged the shirt from her body, his lips kissing her cleavage.

“Beautiful,” Joe hummed against her skin, his tongue darting between her breasts. His hands slid around her back, popping the strap of her bra free. Ever so carefully, his touch light and tender, he slid her bra off of her shoulders, freeing her breasts from the cloth. His hands slid to settle on her hips, tugging at the fabric of her shorts. The anticipation was killing him, the ache that pulsed in his cock drove the desperation that ignited his veins.

She watched as his lips pressed to the soft skin of her stomach, his tongue tracing her skin. The velvet of his tongue against her skin grew goosebumps on her body. The ache in her pussy intensified, throbbing in sweet intimacy. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, his body glowing in the dim light of the room. His fingers pried down her shorts, sliding them down her legs. His lips met hers inner thighs, inhaling the sweet musk of her arousal.

There was no waiting. Not when she looked this good, not when her muscles were outlined by the shadows of the room. Joe pried her panties from her body, her slick sticking to the crotch of her panties. He tossed them aside, kissing her inner thighs again.

“Joe,” her voice was a desperate, silky plea. His touches were incendiary, shocking her nerves. His fingers slid up her folds, collecting her arousal onto his fingers. He felt his cock twitch at how sticky and wet she was, at the sounds she made. She shuddered, her eyes fighting to stay open as she propped herself on her elbows. His eyes were dark, twinkling with his lust.

“So wet for me,” he murmured before his lips met the sweetness of her folds. His tongue flicked over her, collecting the arousal she produced. His hands stayed on her thighs, keeping them open. Her moans, simple yet so beautiful, shot down to his cock, making it twitch in his shorts.

His tongue slid up to her clit, flicking the sensitive bud. He closed his lips around her, his tongue massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves. The burn that he produced, the way her stomach shuddered with the pressure of a building release made her moan. Her hands clenched the sheets, her back arched beautifully against the bed. Her legs shivered with his touch, threatening to close around his head.

“Fuck,” she breathed, every flick of his tongue, every time he dove between her folds to taste her, it pushed her closer to the edge of the knife. One of her hands threaded through his curls, tugging at his hair as his ministrations continued. She tasted amazing, a sweet musk that he needed injected into his veins. His eyes slowly slid up to hers, hooded with the high she was giving him.

He pulled away, strings of her arousal leaving his lips. He used a thumb to wipe his lips, kissing back up her body. He captured her lips with his, this time it filled with hunger. She moaned against his lips, the ache that ignited her body. She tasted herself, the sweet and salty sensation burning her tongue. She tugged him closer, her body shivering as her taste slid down her throat.

He pulled away, shedding off his shirt. His body glowed in the moonlight. His skin was beautiful, and her fingers brushed over his skin. His fingers worked the hem of his shorts, stripping him of his boxers and shorts. Her eyes flicked to his cock, how angry and red and big he was. Before she could have any sort of reaction, he lowered himself onto her, kissing her again. Her body shivered, feeling the hardness of his cock brush against her swollen pussy. She moaned, grinding her hips against his.

“Shit,” he moaned against her lips. His body was electrified, wired with the aches that coursed through him. He rested his forehead against hers, one of his hands stroking his hard and sensitive cock. He lined himself up with her, flicking the head of his cock against her clit. She gasped, the burn so good she felt her muscles tense.

“You ready?” he asked her, and she only nodded. He guided his tip in, and his hands settled on her hips as he pushed himself in. His lips parted, soft grunts leaving his lungs. She arched her back, his cock stretching the plushness of her walls. His hands gripped her hips, his lips still ghosting over hers.

She was so tight, pulsing around his cock with her need. Her pussy was wet, slick with the arousal he’d conjured up with his touch and his tongue.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his chest heaving with his breaths. She felt so right, so good, and he could feel every throb of her pussy around his cock.

She let her eyes slide closed, strangled moans leaving her parted lips. Her mind went hazy, her hands gripping the sheets as he pushed into her, his curls brushing against her forehead.

It took her a moment. He stretched her, the burn created by his cock had her heart racing, her teeth gritted together with both pain and pleasure. She always figured Joe was packing, but feeling it inside of her was a different world itself.

“God,” she breathed, “yes, yes I’m ok,”

Her words were sweet to his ears. His body was pressed against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. He flexed his hips, starting with slow, deliberate thrusts. Their breaths mingled, whines strung together as he thrusted into her.

“Fuck,” he moaned, her walls clenching around his cock, squeezing him, begging him for more.

“Joe,” she whispered, her arms lazily wrapped around his neck. His name sounded heavenly falling from her lips, a prayer to him. He responded, his hips snapping a little faster against hers. Her mind went hazy, her jaw slack with the moans that spilled from her throat.

“God, you sound so beautiful,” Joe murmured as he kissed her jawline, his eyelashes tickling her skin. She couldn’t form words, his thrusts taking them from her. The sweetness of his movements rippled through her body, ignited her blood as it flowed through her veins. Her lips were parted, her back arched into his chest. His hands held her sides, his lips brushing against her jawline.

“Joe,” she breathed, a desperate and silky sound that wrapped him in a blanket. His hips moved against hers, his cock hitting her g-spot at a perfect angle. Her walls clenched around him, the sweetness of her building orgasm making her whine. Her arms wrapped around his back, her nails digging into the taut and thick muscle of his back.

“Gonna come for me, pretty girl?” He growled in her ear, his lips brushing against her ear. She shuddered, the pressure pressing down on her lower abdomen, adding to the pleasure his cock was thrusting into her. Her legs squirmed, bending and shaking, the moonlight catching the muscle of her thighs.

“Yes,” she breathed, her head pressing against the pillow. Joe’s eyes flicked from her ear to watch her face. Her eyes were closed, her hair displayed around her head like a halo, but in this moment she was no angel. Her forehead creased with her concentration, the moonlight catching the beauty of her skin. His eyes darkened, his own pleasure building as he thrusted into her, his cock buried so deep he could feel every part of her pussy around him. Every second he fucked her, the closer she brought him to his own orgasm.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he hummed, his lips brushing against her temple, “wanna watch you,”

Her nails dug into his back, her body coiled so tight she thought she was gonna explode. His thrusts were so deep, pushing against the plush of her walls. She whined, shuddering as she finally tensed. She twitched, a moan ripping from her throat as her orgasm snapped over her. It was hot, all consuming.

Joe shuddered as he felt her come around him. It took everything in him to hold back his own orgasm. He gritted his teeth together, but his eyes watched her. Her lips, parted with her moans, her sides heaving against his hands, his fingers leaving indents in her skin. He slid his hand up her body, gently grabbing her chin. He angled her face down, slotting his lips against hers.

“So fucking good,” he murmured against her lips. She moaned into his mouth, her skin hot and slick with sweat. She kept her arms around him, her hands sliding up to cup his face. His lips were hot, nipping at her bottom lip, his tongue brushing her teeth. She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging at the curls.

“I’m not done,” he growled against her lips, “gonna make you scream for me,”

The promise in his tone made her shiver. It caused her nerves to prickle and her pussy to throb. Joe pulled out of her, his lips leaving hers. He looked down at her, raising himself up on his hands. She watched him, his muscles popped with his weight. The shadows danced across his body, illuminating the muscles she knew he worked so hard for. He was delectable.

His hands guided her body, turning her onto her side. She went to roll onto her stomach, but his hand stopped her.

“I’ve got you where I want you,” he promised her, leaning over her and kissing her shoulder. Her stomach fluttered, her eyes cast to the wall in front of her. He had her on her side, his hand rotating her hip. He placed her leg over his shoulder, stretching her quad. His eyes roved over her skin, watching as the moonlight highlighted her muscles and the wetness that dripped out of her pussy.

His hands ran along her legs, his touch prickling her skin. Her breath hitched, the stretch in her legs adding to the thrill in her gut. Her thighs shuddered under his hands, his callouses scratching against her smooth, toned muscles.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Joe mused as he pressed his lips to her calf, his eyes cast down to her body, contorted to his liking. His other hand reached down, the touch against his cock made him hiss. He had to control himself; he was going to make her fall apart and scream before he got his own pleasure.

Consider it a selfless act.

Joe lined his tip with her entrance, circling the rim before he pushed himself in again. Joe threw his head back, his right hand gripping her thigh over his shoulder, his left attached to her hip. He didn’t give her much wait time, his hips rocking against hers. She gasped, her body jerking with the increasing pace of Joe’s hips. She reached out with her hands, gripping the sheets as his hand gripped her thigh.

“Shit,” she moaned. His cock hit her in a whole new spot, her sensitivity from her previous orgasm shattering her nerves. She looked up, Joe’s face loose with bliss. His lips were parted, the moonlight perfectly catching his muscles. He was a greek god in his element, and she was his muse.

His thrusts were relentless, the bed rocking with his movements. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, his cock hitting her g-spot in the most perfect of ways. He was hot, his thrusts wet with her arousal and his pre-cum. His hand moved to the under side of her thigh, pushing it towards her body. She whined, the stretch burning her body. His pace increased, skin slapping against skin, balls deep into her pussy.

“My pretty girl,” Joe leaned over her, his hand moving up her stomach, his fingers wrapping around one of her breasts. He kissed her shoulder, his voice gruff with his pleasure. His body was hot, the pressure building in his body threatening to spill over. He held it back, his teeth sinking into her shoulder. She moaned, her body shuddering again. He knew what that meant, and he smirked against her skin.

“Joe,” she whimpered, her body hot and coiled so tight she couldn’t think. Her heart slammed in her chest, making her squirm. Her leg tightened over his shoulder, her heel digging into his back.

“Wanna hear you,” he murmured as he pulled from her skin, “come for me,”

The rubber band snapped, her second orgasm washing over her in waves. Her body folded, her lips parted with the whimpers that left her lips. Her body burned, her pussy throbbing with the slick that slipped out of her. She felt her stomach cramp, her thighs shaking. Joe pulled out, making her hiss. Her nerves were frayed, her body overstimulated. She flipped onto her stomach, her hands stretching above her head. Her back muscles glowed in the moonlight, and Joe needed a minute. He tilted his head back, taking controlling breaths.

If he looked down at her right then, he’d paint her with his cum. He didn’t want to come yet, he wanted to have his way with her one more time. His eyes slowly looked back down at her, her back arched and her hands stretched above her head.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled, his hands grabbing her hips. His hands ran up her sides, his body leaning over hers, his lips finding her neck. His hands caressed her sides, sliding up her arms, finding her hands. He interlocked their fingers, kissing her neck.

“Joe,” she moaned into the pillow. Her thighs shuddered, her body burning with a mixture of arousal and exhaustion. It made for the perfect cocktail, and Joe planned on taking everything she had to give him.

“One more time, sweet girl,” he whispered into her ear, his teeth grazing her skin, “you can take it,”

“Joe-”

“You can take it,” he assured her, “I know you can,”

She trembled, his hands running back down her body. Prickles were left in his wake, her skin shivering. His hands grabbed her hips, his lips kissing between her shoulder blades. She flexed, and Joe licked his lips. Her back muscles were beautiful, and he loved how strong she was. Her personality matched her body; strong and beautiful.

He sat up, grabbing her hips. His fingers pressed into her body, firm and tight. His heart thudded in his chest, his breaths heavy and thick. His cock twitched, his need for his release almost painful. He bit his lip, one hand moving to her hair. His fingers dug into her strands, pulling her back. She whined, but not because she was in pain. It didn’t hurt, but she felt the ache in her body. Her back arched, coiled tighter than she’s ever been bent before.

His other hand guided his tip in, her wet and gummy walls sucking him in. He groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He immediately picked a relentless pace. His hand moved to hold her hip, his other hand hoisting her head further back. His thrusts were brutal, creating a burning sensation in the depth of her pussy. She moaned, her fingers digging into the plush of the mattress.

“Feels so good,” he moaned, his eyes closed. He fought off his own pleasure, even as her walls clenched and pulsed around his cock. He whimpered, his hand tightening in her hair. Her back was coiled so tight it stung, but she didn’t argue with it. She was his muse, his all-consuming thought.

No words materialized. Her brain was grey, foggy with the static of his movements. She whimpered, her back arched, her body jerking with the force of his thrusts. He fucked her deep, hitting every corner of her vagina. The room was thick, hot with their intimacy. Her skin was hot against his, his hand gripping her hip with a bruising force.

Without warning, she snapped. She cried, her moans loud and filled with both her shock and the burn of her orgasm. The wetness of her release coated the grooves he’d fucked into her walls. She whimpered, her body sore. Joe immediately pulled out, flipping her over. He needed release, he needed to make her his masterpiece.

She looked up at him, her body squirming on the bed. Her body ached, her muscles sore and twitchy. Her eyes were blurry with her pleasure, but she caught his movements. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping himself. She watched as his cum, hot and milky, released onto her stomach. Her breath hitched, her eyes flicking up to his face. His head was thrown back, his whimpers filling the room. His hand continued, his cum squirting onto her body. He squeezed the last little bit out of his tip, and he lulled his head back forwards.

She reached out, dipping her finger into the milky substance on her stomach. She slid her finger into her mouth just as he laid over her body. He tasted salty, tinges of sweetness in his cum that made her shiver. She removed her finger, her eyes locking onto his. Her muscles shuddered, his forehead pressed against hers. His breaths were heavy, hot with his exhaustion. His body ached, his heart slamming in his chest. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his eyes closed.

Her muscles twitched, sore with his intimacy. His hands slowly slid up her body, his fingers intertwining with hers. She whimpered, her body pulsing with the overstimulation that ripped through her muscles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse with the force of his orgasm. His muscles still trembled, but he knew she felt the brunt of it all.

“Yeah,” she breathed, her nose brushing his, “perfect,”

Her words made him smile. He kissed her, a gentle and tender expression of his affection for her. He pulled away, keeping his forehead against hers. He let the moment sit, the quiet of the room wrapping around them. His mind finally screwed back in, his thoughts filing back.

He finally had her.

The one he’s wanted for months.

“Y/N,” he hummed, his eyes opening and peering down her. Her eyes peeled open, the beauty of her expression smoothing over his frayed nerves. He reached up with his free hand and caressed her cheek.

“Good thing it’s the offseason, right?” she whispered with a small smile, and Joe let out a huff of air. As intense as their intimacy was, he didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want this to be an offseason hookup. He wanted her. Every day.

“I don’t want this to be an offseason thing,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around her.

“I don’t either,” she admitted, her eyes filled with nothing but affection for him. He was beautiful, his cheeks flushed with the efforts of their intimacy. She wanted to have him every day, in every domestic moment. She wanted to come home to him, to enjoy the warmth of his presence.

But she couldn’t. Not with her current position.

“We’ll figure it out,” Joe promised. He knew what she was thinking. He was thinking the same thing. She broke her contract that night, she broke her promise to the Bengals franchise. As of right now, no one knew. But Joe knew it would only be a matter of time.

“I know,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to think about it right now,” she admitted. Joe gave her a soft expression, leaning up and kissing her forehead. He moved his lips down and kissed her sweetly on her lips. He sighed, her lips soft and warm, slotted perfectly against his.

He pulled away, sinking down beside her. He tugged her into his embrace, his hands roaming her back. Her skin was soft, flinching with her sensitivity. Joe kissed the top of her head, giving her a comforting squeeze.

“You sure I didn’t go too hard?” he asked, and her gruff chuckle lit his heart up.

“I’m sure,” she assured him, peeking up at him. Her eyes were so beautiful, sparkling with the affection she felt. Her heart swelled, her mind fuzzy with her feelings. Her butterflies flew about, making her stomach churn. The sensations she felt were reflected in his eyes, the emotions that swam behind her eyes also swam behind his.

He was in love with her. His muse. His goddess.

“Okay,” he hummed, kissing the top of her head again. Silence spread across them, settling overtop of them like a blanket. The AC ran over their bodies, cooling the heat of their skin and solidifying the sweat that stuck to their bodies.

He’d always choose her. She’d always choose him. No contract or professional expectation could keep them apart. As she laid her head against his chest, and as his chin rested on her head, they both silently agreed to never leave each other’s side. They didn’t know what that looked like, there was a lot they didn’t know. But that wasn’t for them to think about.

All they knew is that they needed each other like the air they breathed, and that was enough.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #maintaining professionalism #nfl imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut

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immortalmrwavell · 3 months ago

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The Identity Transfer

(Original story posted February 6th 2023) This story has been mildly Updated!

Written for @the-natwolf

It’d been a long day for Nat as he arrived home feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to chill out for the last few hours of the evening. The first thing he did was whip up a nice hot meal for himself to satiate his growling stomach. Soon after he’d finished his meal, he was collapsing onto his bed with a drink in hand as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through some of his socials.

Naturally it wasn’t long before he found himself on Instagram. He took a sip from his drink as he flicked through the various posts. Some were of his friends, some being adverts and others being funny videos. But of course one of the most common themes while scrolling had to be the huge manly hunks showing off their half naked bodies. As a gay man, who could blame him. There would be bears, jocks, dads and meatheads alike just filling his feed to the point where more often than not Nat found himself unable to go on Instagram in public.

“Damn he looks good…” Nat mumbled to himself as he stopped on an image of a bear showing off his big hairy pecs and stomach. In honesty he’d always been a little jealous of men like that. Men that were huge and masculine. It made sense though. After all, Nat was 26 now and stood at around 5’7 with a pretty lean average build. He wasn’t really that hairy either. He might not have been as hunky as the men he drooled over but he didn’t hate his body. He was content with what he had… mostly. When there were guys out there his age and younger that were well over 6 foot and stacked with muscle, it was hard not to be at least a little envious of them.

He took another sip of his drink before his seemingly endless scrolling was stopped dead in its tracks. Up had popped a new post from one of his favourite dudes on Instagram. Ched Uzor!

He was a massive dude in every sense. Incredibly tall and insanely muscular with dashing good looks that made the smaller man swoon every time. Along with almost any gay man for that matter. He was gorgeous! So much so that Nat couldn’t help but pull up the man’s profile and start scrolling through all his posts again like he had many times before. He could never get enough of drinking that man in.

As it turned out Ched was an online coach that took on clients to help with training and getting into shape so naturally this meant he posted tons of pictures and videos dedicated to showing off his physique. Plentiful amounts of shirtless pics in the mirror to show off his god-like body for all to see. There were even a few where he stood in nothing but a towel or a tight pair of shorts that left little to the imagination. Those posts always drove Nat and many others crazy. Getting to see those chiselled abs and incredible pecs was always a treat. Not to mention those colossal arms of his that needed no introduction. Apparently he considered them his best feature and for good reason. Just one of Ched’s gigantic biceps looked to be the same size as one of Nat’s legs!

He continued to search through the bank of juicy content with a growing tent in his jeans. There were of course many workout videos to go with all the pics he put up which was just the icing on the cake. Getting to see Ched working those impressive muscles of his in an effort to pump them even bigger than they already were. He really couldn’t be more of a beast! Though his British English accent was something that frequently threw Nat off. He hadn’t expected it when he first heard Ched’s voice but he certainly didn’t hate it. He found it being quite the turn on actually!

Eventually he’d begun to lose himself a bit. Soon finding himself gulping the rest of his drink down so he could focus on rubbing his arousal over his jeans while gawking at this man’s amazing body. “Fuck… I wish I could be just like him.” Nat muttered to himself. He was just about ready to unzip and whip his dick out when suddenly a strange pop up filled his screen. It said:

- Our service has deemed you eligible for an identity transfer. From what we can gather, you wish to become like the user of this account “Ched Uzor”. Would you like us to proceed in making that possible for you? -

Beneath the message was a green accept button and a red deny button. Naturally Nat’s first instinct was to deny with strange pop ups like this but as his finger hovered over the red option, he hesitated. He had no idea why but for some reason, something deep down was telling him to accept. The logical part of his mind was telling him it was most likely a scam or a virus or some kind but at the same time something else was tugging at him. Telling him that it was real and to just trust it… so he pressed accept. After which there was a slight nervousness building in his chest as a new pop up emerged that simply read:

- Confirmation Received. Preparing Physical Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Seeing this Nat began to panic slightly. What was he thinking accepting this random link!? It was probably taking all the personal info off his phone right now! Next thing he knows he’s gonna have an emptied out bank account and most of his emails compromised! Though just as the fear began to set in, the screen changed once again.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Physical Transfer… 0% -

Physical transfer? What the hell did that mean? Well Nat was soon about to find out. He tapped away at his phone a little, trying to back out from whatever this was but nothing was working. Even pressing the home button or holding down the power button did nothing as the percentage metre slowly began to tick up.

His eyes widened in disbelief when he noticed the pale skin on his hands beginning to darken. At first he thought he was seeing things but he couldn’t deny it when they started expanding too! Growing larger and meatier while also gaining a more weathered look you’d see on guys who did plenty of physical labour or spent lots of time in the gym. Before long his enlarged hands had turned a deep ebony in colour and that darker hue was quickly starting to spread across his light skin. He tossed his phone onto the couch in panic as he could do nothing but watch this bizarre transformation progress…

- Physical Transfer… 5% -

Next up were his forearms. His skin didn’t waste any time in converting from his usual pale white to a much darker tone. His biceps and shoulders soon followed the same example until both of Nat’s arms looked as though they belonged to a black man! He barely had time to process this though as moments after he felt a warm tingle flow up and down his arms for a second until suddenly they began expanding with muscle!

It began once again with his forearms pumping up rather aggressively with his biceps and triceps quickly following suit as they grew to seemingly no end. It wasn’t long before he’d not only filled out the sleeves of his shirt but the fabric was beginning to dig into his biceps until a faint ripping sound could be heard. That sound only got louder as his shoulders started to bulge, growing into huge boulders of muscle.

He looked… ridiculous! His arms were huge, bulky and a completely different colour to the rest of his small white body. Thankfully it wouldn’t stop there though. As soon as his arms finally reached their full enormous size, the transformation began to spread further.

- Physical Transfer… 25% -

Saying Nat was bewildered would be an understatement. He took a second to marvel at his arms by moving and flexing them a little as he stood up from the couch. The sleeves on his t-shirt were torn in multiple places and only continued to tear as he checked out his new guns. They were gigantic to say the least. He’d go as far as to say his arms were now bigger than a lot of the jock dudes he’d seen at the local gym. Though, as incredible as they were, they probably looked rather silly and out of place on his much smaller pale body.

Just then however, as if on cue, there was another warm tingle that darted around his torso. Of course Nat had been far too focused on the new size of his arms to notice that the skin beneath his shirt had continued changing. It started with small splotches of colour appearing across his chest, stomach, back and traps. At first making his skin appear tanned in those spots but as the patches spread and connected to one another, the tone deepened even further until it matched the same rich ebony skin colour his arms now proudly adorned.

- Physical transfer… 40% -

After what had just happened down with his now hulking arms, Nat already had a good idea of what to expect next when the warm tingle across his torso subsided. He stared down at himself, breath hitching slightly as he waited. And then he felt it. A strange pulsing sensation flooding through his upper body and then…

“UUROOUGGHH!…” Nat bellowed as his chest suddenly heaved forwards, his once unimpressive pecs eagerly starting to take shape. What was previously a relatively flat chest ballooned out into a juicy pair of meaty muscle tits that strained desperately against the front of his shirt. At the same time he found his torso growing thicker and wider in unison with his pecs. His back broadened more by the second until a massive rip tore across the spine of his shirt as he hulked out of it. It simply wasn’t able to contain so much man.

Nat’s eyes began to flicker and roll with all the intense feelings rushing through him right now. The changes were so overwhelming but at the same time… he didn’t want it to stop. Even smiling a little as he felt his traps start to bulge and his neck thicken slightly to compensate. But it didn’t end there. Even as all this new muscle was growing, his height had been increasing a little as well. His torso had grown significantly longer as his former 5’7 statue extended up to 5’11. It couldn’t be more obvious as his shirt rode up enough to give the world a view of his new thick dark abs.

That said he still looked quite ridiculous. He had the arms and torso of a bulky black man with the head and lower body of an average white dude. Not for much longer though.

- Physical Transfer… 65% -

The changes seemed slowed down towards his neck for time being but they didn’t stop their march downwards to the lower half of his body. Naturally the first things to be swallowed by the darkening skin were his groin and his backside. Then as the tingling began to swarm those two regions, it was near impossible for Nat to hide the huge grin forming on his face. By this point he was fully embracing the insane transformation and only wanted more! He didn’t know how it was possible but it just felt so damn good! All he could think about now was the rest of his body getting huge and how amazing it was going to feel!

The back of his jeans started to grow tighter by the second as his ass expanded aggressively, plumping itself up with more and more muscle. Before long his jeans were forced to really stretch themselves over two thick globes that put his former ass to shame. But it didn’t stop at the heavy black jock butt. If anything Nat’s attention was much more focused on his crotch as he rubbed a large hand over it. He could already feel the next change setting in fast.

His hard and already black cock started to bulge obscenely in his pants as it pumped itself bigger and fatter. Gaining not only length as it bucked and pulsed but some delicious girth as well that would stretch any hole to its limit. He almost couldn’t believe he didn’t cum on the spot as the mushroom tip grew thicker and rounder inside the confines of his jeans. He’d managed to stifle his moans for the most part up until that point but he couldn’t help letting out a long groan when his balls suddenly bloated to a huge and heavy size without warning. A glob of precum stained the inside of his pants as his nuts swelled with jock seed.

- Physical Transfer… 75% -

As was expected by this point, the ebony colour spread down across Nat’s legs causing his thighs and calves to darken multiple shades in tone. The change crept lower before finishing with his feet as they endured the same fate. He pulled up one of his pants legs slightly to confirm this was the case and he couldn’t help but get excited upon seeing the dark skin, knowing what was to come. His entire body from the neck down was black!

Moments later that now familiar pulsing sensation travelled up and down his legs. What followed was the sound of his jeans ripping at seams as his legs started to pack on years worth of hard earned muscle in a matter of minutes. His thighs thickened to watermelon crushing levels of size and power while his calves slowly but surely began to grow to the size of sturdy footballs. During which all Nat could hear was the sound of his legs tearing his jeans apart. But once again it didn’t stop there. Along with all the muscle, his legs began stretching longer as well. It wasn’t long before his already increased height of 5’11 went well past 6 foot and all the way up to 6’4! By that point his muscle had finished expanding leaving him with a set of huge meaty legs and jeans that were clinging on for dear life. They were in complete tatters like his shirt. The button on the front had popped off and his ankles were exposed thanks to the jeans now riding up his legs!

He only got a few seconds to rest however as the next little transformation wasn’t waiting right around the corner. The only warning he got was a pleasant buzzing sensation flowing through his feet before suddenly they began exploding with size. They grew at such a rapid rate that within moments they completely burst out of his shoes. With a grin Nat gave his new black size 14 feet a wriggle, loving the feel of how big they were.

- Physical Transfer… 90% -

Now there was only one part left to go and Nat was ready to embrace it. He closed his eyes with a smile as the darkening skin resumed its spread up over his neck and towards his head. It took a little longer than the rest of the body but before long there wasn’t a trace left of Nat’s once pale skin left. Every inch of him was now a rich dark tone. But with the skin done, it was time for the rest of his features to catch up!

A warm wave of tingly pleasure washed over his head as the final changes began. It started with the lump in his throat shifting slightly and readjusting to give him a slightly deeper and more intimidating voice but also one that could be sensual and charming. The main event however was the face itself. Facial features began moving, growing, shrinking, sharpening and softening in all the right places until there was almost no resemblance to the original Nat left. His jaw was stronger, his lips were fuller and his nose was broader. The only thing left was his hair but even that quickly began to recede from the shaggy mop it had once been into something much shorter. Forming into tight neat curls that were distinctly black. And to top it all off a short bristly beard sprouted across his face to match, making his visage all that much more handsome.

- Physical Transfer… 100%… Complete! Physical Identity of “Ched Uzor” assumed! -

Bringing his hands up to his face, Nat couldn’t believe what he was feeling. Everything about it felt different to the spacing between his eyes to the size of his features to the feeling of his hair. It was insane but at the same time extremely erotic for some reason. He had to see what he looked like.

He was in luck as he’d recently put up a new mirror in his bedroom of which he soon found himself stumbling towards, not used to his new weight and centre of gravity. Though despite having just gone through the whole transformation, nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw. Staring back at him was a black muscular hunk! But not just any hunk… it was Ched Uzor! *He* was Ched Uzor! The same man he’d been drooling over online for years!

Of course Nat was far too distracted to notice but across the room on his bed, the message on his phone changed as it began to initiate the next phase…

- Preparing Mental Transfer… Gathering Information… -

Being blissfully unaware of this second transfer, Nat immediately began exploring himself with glee. He never imagined he’d get to experience what it felt like to have a body like this. Not only powerful and muscular but extremely tall as well. Before he'd always felt like the short dude in a crowd but now that he was 6’4 things are gonna be very different. Even now he couldn’t help but notice how much smaller everything seemed. How the floor looked so much further away and how things like his bed, desk and closet seemed so tiny now. It was crazy to wrap his head around but he could certainly get used to it.

- Preparation Complete! Beginning Mental Transfer… 0% -

Nat couldn’t help but love how his former clothes were now in tatters as they struggled to contain his new godly form. Despite that, he had to get a proper look. And so he gripped his torn t-shirt and with one swift motion, ripped it off his torso with ease. Tossing the fabric to one side, Nat took the opportunity to marvel at his incredible upper body. Starting by giving his juicy new pecs a generous squeeze before pinching at his dark nipples. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how many guys he’d get to fuck with a body like this. He was gonna have dudes practically falling to their knees before him.

“Mmm I wonder if I can bounce my pecs like this…” Nat mumbled to himself, loving the new English accent to his voice. He struggled at first, flexing the muscle on his chest awkwardly, but then something just hit him. Suddenly he started popping his pecs like a pro. No wonder because he’s been able to bounce them like that for years now!

- Mental Transfer… 10% -

Once he’d had his fun with his pecs, Nat made sure to give his abs a bit of attention as well, running his hands across the hard ridges with a bite of his lip before moving onto his arms. Sure he’d given them a good flex earlier but now he had the rest of the body to back them up. To say they were unreal wouldn’t do them enough justice. They were so massive and juicy that merely moving his huge arms gave him a power rush, never mind flexing them for the mirror. Getting to feel the pure strength behind all that raw muscle was intoxicating.

“Ughhh yeah!… I’m so huge!” He moaned as his enlarged cock strained against his underwear. He was getting drunk on the sensation of how huge his arms were. No wonder he considered them his best feature. He’d always had big arms so when he started training them properly they just exploded with size! Now he and everyone he met couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

- Mental Transfer… 25% -

He just had to see his body in its full glory. Not wasting any more time Chat gripped his jeans and just like with his shirt he ripped them off before tossing the remains to the side. Now all he had covering himself was an extremely tight pair of underwear that had the tip of his excited cock peeking out one of the leg holes. Overall he was pretty surprised that his underwear seemed intact. Or so he thought anyway.

After giving a quick twirl in the mirror, he was fast to notice a huge rip down the back that gave a perfect window view of his large muscle ass. Seeing this Chat couldn’t help but laugh before giving his big butt a hefty slap, enjoying the way it recoiled slightly. “Yeahhh boy! That’s what I’m talkin about!” He smirked as he took pride in the powerful glutes he’d crafted over the years, just as impressive as the rest of his body.

But of course he couldn’t ignore the main course for long. That new cock of his was begging for attention and Chat was willing enough to oblige. He turned back around to face the mirror once more before ripping off his underwear and allowing his fat new dick to spring free at last. Finally he was able to get a good look at his body in its entirety. “Thank fuck I decided to drop college so I could work on my body.” He stated proudly while turning to look at himself from every possible angle

- Mental Transfer… 50% -

Chat was completely oblivious to what was happening to his mind. With every second that passed his personal reality was being warped around him. He was starting to believe that this was all normal while his former identity was slowly being pushed out of his head to be replaced by a new one. His intelligence dropped a fair margin in the process from the IQ of an intelligent young man to the level of a blissful jock. Not dumb per say but not as bright as he once was either.

Despite everything he still found himself insanely turned on by his reflection even if the reasoning for it was becoming blurrier and blurrier with every passing moment. He gripped his thick black member with a dumb grin, loving how it filled his large hand before pumping it slowly. For some reason it felt way more sensitive than usual. Generally his cock was quite active but this was something different. It almost felt like it was begging him to cum. But he had to savour it just a tad bit longer. It felt far too amazing to rush.

He managed to keep a smooth rhythm with his stroking as he continued to explore his buff body for some obscure reason. As he did, a lot of his former smarts were replaced with a bunch of gym, workout and healthy eating knowledge. All of which was necessary to maintain a huge physique like his. He was definitely gonna need it. After all how else was he gonna be an online coach if he didn’t know all the tips, tricks and secrets to getting swole as fuck!

- Mental Transfer… 80% -

As his free hand wandered around the muscular crevices of his body, it eventually found its way to his back side. At first he was simply grabbing and kneading his cheeks which he didn’t think too much of at first. Just enjoying the feeling until he tried to slip a finger towards his hole. The moment said finger grazed that tight puckered hole however, his eyes snapped open. “The fuck am I doing!?” He questioned out loud as he drew his hand away from his ass. He wasn’t sure why the hell he’d been doing that. After all he’d never been into ass stuff before. Not to mention his asshole is clamped shut anyway. No way anything was getting up there anytime soon. Instead he just tried to shake off the weird experience and focus on jerking off instead.

“Fuuuuck bro! Why am I so horny today!?” Chet moaned as his cock began spluttering pre-cum relentlessly, getting his hand wet and sticky. “I need a hookup or something. Haven’t been with a girl in weeks…” he droned off mindlessly, not even realising the problem with what he’d just said. Yet despite everything it was still his thick muscular body that was the main attraction of his sexual desire right now.

- Mental Transfer… 90% -

Chet began stroking faster as he bounced his pecs again in the mirror, his own body seeming so hypnotising for some reason. It baffled him as he’d never felt this way about himself before but he didn’t bother questioning it. How could he when he could already feel his fat bull balls starting to churn. They were getting ready to shoot while his cock grew more and more sensitive by the second. All of his senses were being overloaded as a thick haze settled over his mind. And soon enough that pleasure began to peak…

Chet couldn’t stop himself from flexing almost every muscle in his body involuntarily as his balls squeezed, sending a fat load up towards his cock until… “FUUUUUUuuuuuccckkkkk…” Chet moaned heartily as his massive dick shot rope after rope of hot thick jock nut all over the mirror like an erupting volcano. Shooting more cum than he ever had in his life while giving the reflective glass a sticky coating of delicious man milk.

- Mental Transfer… 98%… Error Error… -

The pop up screen on his phone began to flash with a warning as the meter seemed to get stuck on 98%.. The Error message continued to flash for a few seconds before the screen changed again, jumping directly to a new screen without having shown the 100% at all.

- Congratulations! You have assumed the Mental and Physical identity of “Ched Uzor”! It would seem our work here is complete! Enjoy the rest of your day. -

The strange pop up claimed proudly before disappearing without a trace. The phone returned to Ched’s Instagram, only now it seemed to be logged in as the user of the account.

Back over at the mirror Ched grabbed his head in confusion. That was one of the biggest nuts of his life so he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he’d done it to his own reflection instead of to a hot babe like usual. But even more importantly where the hell was he? This definitely wasn’t his house and those ripped clothes on the floor certainly didn’t belong to him. He closed his eyes and racked his brain for a moment, trying to figure everything out until it finally hit him. He was on vacation to America right now and he’d hired this dude to look after his place back in the UK. The dude’s name was Nat if he remembered correctly. He took a breather as things finally started to fall into place.

And so, with his cock turning flaccid once again, Ched grabbed some tissues and started to clean up the huge mess he’d made. After all, the people he was renting this place from wouldn’t be happy if he left their mirror with a huge cumstain on it. Once that was done he’d better find himself some clothes to put on so he can enjoy the rest of his evening and take plenty of pics for his Instagram. He knew how thirsty some of his followers were and they were always eager to get another glimpse at his incredible body. Not that he could blame them.

———

- 4 Months Later -

Ched had long since returned home to the UK. That Nat guy had done a good job looking after his house while he was gone, the place looked spotless! Though he could swear there was something eerily familiar about Nat that he just couldn’t place. He couldn’t really put it into words. It was almost like nagging in the back of your mind when you’ve forgotten something but can’t remember what. Regardless he thanked the smaller man before giving him the second half of his payment and sending him on his way.

Since then things had been normal for the most part. Making inspirational posts on Instagram about exercising and getting into shape as well as just having an excuse to show off a bit. Naturally he spent plenty of time in the gym as always and was hard at work coaching his online clients as a personal trainer. But there were a couple weird things he’d noticed recently…

For example he still hadn’t gotten over this weird fascination with his own body he’d developed lately. Every time he looked at his reflection he found his cock chubbing up for some reason and he had no idea why. Plus the amount of times he would end up groping his own muscles while jerking off. He’d never done that before but now he couldn’t help it. But don’t get him wrong though, Ched isn’t gay. He’s been hooking up with plenty of women as of late and had no problem getting it up when they pull their tits out for him. If anything he’d say he’s been fucking more pussy recently than usual. Getting into bed with hot chicks left and right to fuck their bimbo brains out… but that could be partially due to him compensating for another new desire.

You see along with his self infatuation, over these past few months Ched had also caught himself glancing at other men. Not just in an admiring kind of way either. Like he was properly eyeing them up. His gaze was constantly being drawn to their asses and bulges. It was madness! He’d never been into dudes before so why were these feelings suddenly surfacing now!?

Recently there’d been this new guy at the gym that’d he’d been speaking to. Brandon was his name. Massive dude, about the same size as Ched himself. And just like with many other guys, Ched hadn’t been able to stop himself from checking out Brandon’s huge body. Only difference being that he could swear he caught Brandon checking him out as well…

Surely he couldn’t be gay because he did genuinely love women as well. So maybe he was Bi? If that was the case, how he managed to go all these years and not realise until now was beyond him. Well perhaps if this Brandon dude really was interested he could give it a go and ask him out or hook up maybe?… see what happens?

Little did Ched know that this was actually due to the error during his Mental Transfer. It seemed a tiny percentage of Nat remained inside him and vice versa for the new Nat as well. It was that tiny part of himself that was obsessed with his body and the part that still had an interest in men. But of course he’d never know that because as far he knows, Nat is just the guy that looked after his house for a couple weeks. He of course was the hunky Instagram model and online coach Ched Uzor! Only now he was a little gayer than before. And you know what? He was okay with that.

483 notes · View notes

norrisainz33 · 11 months ago

Text

Summer to Remember | MV33

☆ summary: in which Max surprises you during summer break 💍

☆ pairing: max verstappen x reader

☆ fc: none, pics from pinterest

☆ warnings: ever so slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume.

୨୧┈୨୧

yourusername made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, redbullracing and 204,375 others

yourusername: strong first half of the season for my maxie! now its time to relax 🫶🏻🌊☀️

view all 433 comments

user1: if you guys need another cat i can meow

user2: how he bagged such a baddie will always be beyond me

maxverstappen1: beach baby

yourusername: 🏝️🌊☀️

redbullracing: going to miss you for a couple weeks y/n!

yourusername: i’ll miss you too admin but dw ill dm you updates

redbullracing: 🫶🏻 my queen

user2: even the rbr admin is obsessed with her and honestly i get it

maxverstappen1 added to his private story

view story replies

danielricciardo: STAY CALM EVERYBODY STAY CALM YOU KNOW THE PROCEDURE

maxverstappen1: at least one of us is staying calm

danielricciardo: i’m so excited i could explode

landonorris: LETS GOOOOOOOOO

charlesleclerc: alex and i expect a call with updates directly after

maxverstappen1: don’t worry, i’m sure she’ll call alex before i’ve even finished asking her

martingarrix: ohhh it’s finally happening 🥹

yourusername made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebeccad, alex_albon, and 486,780 others

yourusername: i don’t think im ever going to leave this place 😫

view all 546 comments

oscarpiastri: lily will miss you too much if you don’t come home

yourusername: you make a good point

maxverstappen1: you don’t have to leave, i told you we could get a condo here

yourusername: ok mr solves all my problems

user3: making my partner take notes

user4: nah bc wtf where’s my man who just offers to buy me a second house

user5: i’m sleeping on the highway

bestie: if you need company i’d happily visit 😉

maxverstappen1 added to his private story

view story replies

landonorris: the suspense is killing me can’t you do it right now

maxverstappen1: patience lando!

danielricciardo: i have a countdown set on my phone. 23 hours, 6 minutes and 23 seconds left!

maxverstappen1: danny 😂

schecoperez: so excited for you mi amigo

maxverstappen1: 💙

maxverstappen1 added to his private story

view story replies

danielricciardo: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

alexandrasaintmleux: she looks so beautiful in white 🤍

charlesleclerc: good luck mate

landonorris: facetime me in rn

oscarpiastri: lily and i are sending our best 🧡

georgerussell63: go get that girl 💙

maxverstappen1 made a post

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 1,344,234 others

maxverstappen1: she said yes! y/n thank you for completing me, supporting me and loving me. i don’t think i ever truly knew what love was until you came along. i can’t wait to make you my wife 🤍

view all 5,675 comments

user12: who is cutting onions

user14: not me sobbing over an instragram post

schecoperez: unbelievably happy for you both

landonorris: successfully did not spill the beans!

maxverstappen1: i know that was hard for you. thanks for keeping the secret and for helping me plan 😉

yourusername: i’ll always be your biggest fan. i love you to the moon and back my fiancé 💙

maxverstappen1: fiancé has a nice ring to it

danielricciardo: i love you both so much this is everything and more

yourusername: we love you more danny

danielricciardo: NOT POSSIBLE

maxverstappen1: couldn’t have done it without you mate

charlesleclerc: leo has agreed to be the ring bearer 💍

yourusername: that is the best news

user17: LEO IN THE WEDDNG?! STOPPPP

user18: this is going to be the wedding of the century

user19: seeing max happy makes me so happy

yourusername has made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, bestie, alexandrasaintmleux, redbullracing, and 454,789 others

yourusername: I AM GOING TO BE A WIFE!! the easiest yes i’ve ever said! I can’t even begin to explain how much i love you max, these past few years with you have been nothing short of a dream come true. i can’t wait to be your mrs. verstappen 🤍

view all 1,222 comments

user22: i just fell to my knees in this walmart parking lot

maxverstappen1: i’ll love you to the end of time mrs. verstappen

yourusername: promise?

maxverstappen1: promise

georgerussell63: finally!!

charlesleclerc: i am so happy for you both - congratulations 💙

user16: this is my version of the royal wedding

alexandrasaintmleux: you are going to make the most beautiful bride 🫶🏻

yourusername: and you’re going to make the most beautiful maid of honor 🤍

user33: so true love does exist huh

redbullracing: is it too early to talk about making the next world champion

user24: AINT NO WAY LMFAO

user23: admin said get to work

୨୧┈୨୧

☆ a/n: hope you enjoyed!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

୨୧┈୨୧

2K notes · View notes

royalarchivist · 4 months ago

Text

How to Archive VODs and Clips

Whether you want to download VODs and/or clips for your own records or because you’d like to share them online, knowing how to archive things is handy, especially when so many streams become lost media once they’re deleted off Twitch and/or YouTube.

Here are a few programs that I use for Royal Archivist!

—

Of all the programs on this list, my personal favorites / the ones I most strongly recommend are Cobalt and Twitch Downloader! (When all else fails, OBS is also a good backup).

Cobalt

Cobalt has gained a lot of popularity the past few months, and for good reason! It's a very reliable, extremely user-friendly website that lets you save videos in MP4 formats, convert them into MP3 formats, or video-only without sound.

Cobalt is currently compatible with: BlueSky, Dailymotion, Facebook, Instagram, Loom, OK, Pinterest, Reddit, RuTube, SnapChat, SoundCloud, Streamable, TikTok, Tumblr, Twitch, Twitter, Vimeo, VK, Xiohongshu, and YouTube.

Twitch’s built-in download feature

If you’re downloading your own clip, this is the easiest method to use

First, navigate to your clips page.

To do this, click on your Twitch icon and go to “Creator Dashboard.” There will be a row of icons on your left - click the fifth button from the top (the one above the settings icon) and click on the link that says “Clips.”

At the top of the page, click on “Clips I’ve Created” and you should see a list of every clip you’ve ever made (regardless of whether or not you’ve published them, the clips are there!)

If you're having trouble, you can also type: https://dashboard.twitch.tv/u/ YOUR USERNAME HERE /clips/created

Click on the share button, and the list shown in the photo below will pop up.

After you click on the “Download” button (for landscape or portrait), a new tab will open up with the clip (which will autoplay, so heads up if you have your volume turned up high!)

Right click on the video and click “Save Video As”

That’s all there is to it! Please keep in mind that Twitch’s download function only works for clips you’ve made! You cannot use it to download VODs, or other people’s clips.

Twitch Downloader

Twitch Downloader is by far the BEST Twitch download program I have ever used. I’ve used several different ones, some which have broken because of Twitch’s updates, others which have fallen into disrepair because their creator no longer updates the program, but this one has been working consistently for me for a little over a year now. I’ve kept it very close to my chest because I’m terrified it’ll stop working one day, but it’s better to share resources than horde them out of fear.

Pros:

HD quality for all downloads! Whatever quality the stream was, that’s the quality the download will be (unless you adjust anything in the settings).

The best feature of this program is you can adjust how much you want to clip! Only want a 30 second clip from a 6 hour VOD? You can specify the section you want to download so long as you know the timestamps where you want the clip to start and where you want it to end.

You can download entire VODs.

When saving the file, it will automatically enter the original name of the stream and the stream date. (You can change this, but it’s very handy when you’re downloading an entire VOD and not a section of one).

It will automatically prompt you to update it when a new version has been released. (You do have the option to opt out of this, if you want).

There are a lot of other features available, however, I’ve never tried any of them so I can’t say how well they work. The Github page has a lot of examples and a Q&A section though, so check that out if you’re curious!

On the rare occasion that the program encounters issues, it's easy to use a past version, and the creators are quick to release new updates that resolve any problems. As of today (February 21, 2025) the latest version is currently 1.55.2, which updated last week.

Cons:

Sometimes when you click “Get Info” it won’t immediately load the VOD. This is pretty easy to solve by just restarting the program, so it’s not a huge issue imo.

You can’t preview clips before you download them, so you need to know the exact timestamps you want.

You can’t download VODs that are privated or no longer on Twitch.

How to use:

Download Twitch Downloader from Github and install the version that works for your computer. (In this case, I would download the GUI Windows-x64.zip version. Make sure you’re downloading the GUI version if you want a user-friendly version of this program).

Enter the URL of the VOD you’d like to download.

You can adjust the quality of the video and the length. If nothing is specified in the “Crop Video” section, it will download the entire VOD.

Once you’re ready, click the “Download” button and you’re good to go!

Open Video Downloader

If you’ve ever wanted to download any kind of video, I’m sure you’ve heard of Youtube-dl. There are different versions of this program, but some of them are a bit finicky and if things stop working, it can be difficult and frustrating trying to figure out what went wrong and how to fix it — which is why I recommend this program.

Open Video Downloader, aka youtube-dl-gui, is one of the best video downloaders I’ve ever used. It’s basically Youtube-dl with a Graphical User Interface (GUI) that makes the program very easy for anyone to use.

Pros:

No coding knowledge required! VERY user-friendly.

The creator fixes user issues very quickly! Whenever the program experiences a problem, a new update is released within 24 hours.

It can download videos from pretty much all major social media platforms, including Youtube, Twitter, Tumblr, Twitch clips, Instagram, and more.

Cons:

You can’t adjust the length of what you want to download. If you want to download a 2 minute section from a 5 hour Youtube VOD, you’ll have to download the entire video.

On rare occasions, I’ve had issues where it cannot download an unlisted Youtube video. There are sometimes ways to get around this, but it’s a pain and usually not worth the effort.

How to use it:

Download the latest version of the program from GitHub. Scroll all the way down to “Assets” and select the version that’s right for your computer. (For example, I use Windows, so I would download the .exe file).

Once you’ve installed it, you can start downloading things! For this example, let’s say I want to download Quackity’s “Welcome to the QSMP” video. All I need to do is copy the link and paste it into the white box at the top of the program.

Once that’s done, you should see the video pop up in your download queue. You can queue multiple videos to download at once (you can also download entire playlists too). When you’re ready, click the green download button on the bottom right (as shown in the picture below) or if you only want to download one specific video from your queue, click the download button (circled in red) next to the video.

You can adjust the quality of the video you want to download, and in theory you can choose whether to download just the audio or just the video of a video, but personally that’s never worked for me. That might just be a me issue though.

If you’d like to change where your videos are saved to, click the Folder button (circled in yellow) and choose a download destination. If nothing is chosen, it will default to your Downloads folder.

There are ways you can customize this program, but like I said earlier, this program is very very easy to use and does not require any tinkering whatsoever. You open it, download what you want, then close it. Nice and simple!

Other Recommendations

OBS is a good backup when all else fails! I have to use OBS pretty frequently for YouTube VODs, since there aren't a lot of tools that let you clip parts of a YouTube video (and I'd rather not download an entire 7 hour long VOD for a 30 second clip). There are already a lot of good tutorials out there explaining how to use OBS, so I recommend poking around and seeing what works best for you. If you're new to video downloading / archiving things, I'd still recommend starting with some of the tools I mentioned above first.

I’d recommend making a folder on your computer for clips. I find it very helpful to name all my files with this method: [Stream date] Streamer name - Something that helps me remember what this clip is about / something that will help me find it later, or a quote.

Example: [2-6-24] Mike - I hate capitalism

If you’ve got a significant amount of clips on your computer, I’d recommend backing them up and/or saving them to an external harddrive!

That’s about it! I apologize if I’ve missed any steps, but hopefully everything is more or less easy enough for folks to understand! I’m someone who does not like downloading random programs onto my computer and I’m very paranoid about cyber security, but I’ve used these programs for over a year now, and they’re very reliable and trustworthy. 10/10, I recommend both of them.

Lastly: if anyone has a recommendation for good Youtube clip downloaders, please let me know! I haven’t found any good programs that let me specify how much of a Youtube video I’d like to download, and I am suffering. Help your friendly neighborhood Archivist so I can share more clips from the early days of QSMP.

#Twitch #Resources #FAQ #This post is brought to you by me teaching my coworker about Cobalt today #Coworker: Wow this is amazing! How did you learn all this stuff?#Me: I edit a lot of goofy gay cubito clips ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿#I didn't tell her that but I'm pretty honest about my fandom hobbies when people ask me directly lol #I've put so many sideblog shenanigan things on my resume #I ran a character design blog for like... 5 - 7 years or so?#and I still have stuff from that in my portfolio #Literally any ''silly'' fandom thing you do can be used for your resume #You just need to know how to phrase it #It was very funny when one of my past bosses looked me dead in the eye and said ''You're kind of a nerd aren't you?''#It made me laugh #I'm more of a geek than a nerd but I wear both titles proudly #Anyways that's your RA fun fact of the day #I've posted this before (as an addition to one of Bell's posts) but that one's a tiny bit out of date now #So here's a (slightly) more updated version

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nerdy-novelist017 · 11 months ago

Text

Apologies (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader pt 6)

Ahhh don't come at me for the lack of updates lately! 😅 I've been so distracted with watching the Olympics and my job. I'm not meant to work a ful-time job, your honor. I just wanna write silly fanfics all day and read all night pls and thanks ! Anyway, enjoy! 🩷

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.4k+

Summary- The last person you expect to be there to dry your tears is that stubbornly persistent biker of yours.

******

Pete never showed up to your fundraiser. You had waited the whole afternoon in the hopes that you’d see him, but he wasn’t there for your event. He wasn’t there for the bake sale, or the picnic. He didn’t even show up for the auction which you were sure he’d be interested in that since one of the items to be sold was an expensive golf club set. He must have had other plans, you tried to tell yourself. He must have been too busy.

You hadn’t seen Benny after that either, but you tried to find that as more of a relief than disappointment, after all, he was the reason you and Pete had a bit of a disagreement anyway. Part of you wondered if he only showed up for your tent since you hadn’t seen him anywhere else at the charity afterwards. Regardless, the hours passed at the picnic and you eventually helped everyone pack up before you left too, riding home on your bicycle. You tried to call Pete when you made it home, but his mother answered and told you he wasn’t home. You asked her to have him call you when he could. You ate dinner with your family and tried to not look too hopeful every time the phone rang because it was never Pete calling you back. You expected to go to bed with a sense of dejection, but instead you were surprised to feel something closer to . . . relief.

So the next two days went by quickly. You were too busy with work and household chores to notice that Pete hadn’t called you back. It was only when you had gotten up early to start on breakfast on the third day that he finally did ring you.

“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you much,” he told you over the phone. “I miss you.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you were busy,” you mumbled as you stirred the pancake batter, phone receiver balancing precariously between your cheek and shoulder.

“I want to see you this weekend. I can pick you up around noon on Saturday if you’re free.”

You agreed a bit reluctantly, but he didn’t seem to catch it.

******

“Oh, are you going to teach me to golf?” you asked excitedly as Pete pulled into the country club parking lot. He’d been quiet to tell you where it was that he was taking you today, but you wanted to trust the spontaneity of the moment so you let him drive you to the mystery location. Out of all the places he could have surprised you with, this certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Part of you was confused because you hadn’t expressed a particular fondness for the sport, but another part of you felt warmth that he wanted to share his hobby with you.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like to join me and the boys today.” He smiled at you as you both exited the car. “Sit in the cart and look pretty while you cheer us on.”

Oh. So he wasn’t even teaching you his hobby. You wanted to say something back, to tell him that you were willing to learn if he taught you, but his friends came over then, interrupting your chance to speak. Pete introduced you to them, five in total and you struggled to remember their names. But it didn’t matter much since all chances of you speaking were thrown out the window when they bear hugged each other, and turned to go out onto the field. You followed behind, quietly trying to find a place in their obviously-tight friend group. And that’s how you spent the next three hours: awkwardly existing in their world, sitting on the cart and watching them play. You were the only girl, and it was clear that they didn’t know how to involve you much in their conversations. And when you were able to pull Pete to the side for a moment, you asked if he could let you take a swing once, just to try it out. He nodded but said, “Well, maybe in the next game, this one I’ve got a bet on and every shot counts.” You didn’t ask again.

Even though you were still technically spending time with him, this didn’t feel in any way fun or exciting. You tried not to, but your mind drifted to your night spent at the bar with Benny and how fun that was, despite it being a bar full of bikers – a scenario you would have never thought you’d be in, let alone enjoy. As you sat in the golf cart, having nothing better to do than to watch Pete with his friends, you wondered if this was all he wanted you for. Were you really just a doll to him? A trophy? You didn’t get to play?

After the next game ended, you asked Pete if he could take you somewhere for lunch and he seemed almost reluctant to leave his friends. But in the end, he did agree, and you said goodbye to the band of golfers. You walked back to the parking lot together and when you spotted his car in the distance, you figured this was your chance to actually talk with him, not just listen to him speak.

“What do you want out of life, Pete?” you asked quietly as you slowed to a stop on the sidewalk.

“What?” He paused a few paces ahead of you, glancing back. “What kind of question is that?”

“I mean,” you struggled to gather your jumbled thoughts. “What kind of life do you want?”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “Well, I’m going to school for engineering so I’m going to do that.”

You waited for him to continue, but he just shrugged and motioned for the car. “You coming?”

Not seeing the conversation over quite yet, your feet remained firmly planted in your spot. “But what do you want out of life? What do you want for me in your life?”

“Geez, (Y/N),” he laughed humorlessly. “Where is this coming from?” His expression darkened suddenly. “Is this because of that dirty biker?”

It was your turn to look confused as you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. “Have you seen him again, hmm?”

“I . . . he was at the fundraiser–”

“What did I tell you?” He asked rhetorically as he closed the distance between you. “I don’t want you around that deadbeat again.”

“It wasn’t like I sought him out,” you defended, trying to ignore the rush of agitation at his choice of description. “I had no clue he would be there. I thought you were going to be there.”

“Well, I couldn’t be. You can’t just expect me to drop everything for you at such a late notice.”

“What was more important that you needed to be at?” You frowned.

He rolled his eyes, turning back to the car. “I have my own life.”

That’s when you realized that he was so . . . disconnected, uninterested. He may have wanted you but not in the way of getting to know you. His want was selfish, only born out of lust. He didn’t care about your hobbies or interests. You weren’t even listened to when you spoke to him. The realization was painfully obvious and you felt like a fool, like he had played you. And maybe he wasn’t even aware of it himself, but you could see it now: he didn’t care for you, not in the way you longed for.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking your head as you watched him approach the driver’s side door. “I know that, but . . . I was just hoping to spend time with you.”

He turned back and threw his arms out dramatically. “I’m spending time with you now, aren't I? Will you just get in the car?”

You took a deep breath, looking down at your shoes. “I think I’m gonna walk home.”

“Are you serious?” His voice grew colder as he yanked open his door. “Because I didn’t go to your bake sale?”

You shook your head. “No, I like walkin’ and I just want some time to think–”

“You’re going off to find that biker, aren’t you?”

“What?” Your gaze shot back up to his. “No, I–”

“I knew this would happen.” He shook his head, an unamused smile flashing on his face. “He’s filling your head with all these dangerous ideas. He’s poisoning you against me. Me.”

“I’m not–”

“Get in the car.” You didn’t realize that it wasn’t a request anymore.

“Pete, I just don’t–”

“Get in the fucking car, (Y/N)!” He shouted, slamming his hand on the roof, and you jumped at the sound.

You stared at him, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. You’d never seen any man act like this, especially not Pete. Panic turned the blood in your veins to ice and you were suddenly painfully aware of just how fast your heart was beating in your chest. Seconds ticked by, and he finally reacted to your speechlessness by rubbing a hand over his face, sighing loudly.

“Look, just get in the car,” he tried again, his voice barely controlled. “We came here together and I don’t want people to talk about how I’m leaving without you, okay?”

No, it wasn’t okay, you wanted to say, but your throat was suddenly too tight to speak. All you could do was stare at this man who you thought you had a pretty good understanding of, who you never thought would raise his voice at you, who would never command you to do something you very obviously denied. You shook your head, hand holding over your chest in an attempt to even out your heart rate.

He called your name, but you turned and forced your legs to walk, to move away from him. You just wanted to get home to the safety of your bedroom. Behind you, you could hear his car door slam shut and the engine whine as it fired up. He drove over to you, nearly hitting the curb as he weaved.

“Fine, walk home then!” he yelled and revved the engine, tires peeling out on the blacktop as he zoomed away.

That’s when the tears started falling. You sucked in a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and a sob choked into it. The sidewalk blurred from the stream of tears but you trudged on, wanting nothing more than to escape the prying eyes of the neighborhood. The action of Pete slamming his hand against the metal proof of his car replayed in your mind and something unpleasant gripped your heart at the realization that what you saw was his reaction to not getting what he wanted the first time. This was supposed to be the exciting moments of you relationship, the time when you were still discovering who each other were. If he could be so easily angered by you now, what would 5 years of marriage look like? What would 10?

And as you approached the intersection, a thought came to you and you felt sick at the possibility that maybe this is what your mother felt before she married your father. And your grandmother before she married your grandmother. Like a chain, these women with hearts and ambitions and dreams all just got married and became something their husbands wanted, lived a dream their husbands had. And maybe that was their dream, but what if it wasn’t yours?

The revving of an engine broke you free from your all-consuming thoughts and fresh fear spiked through you. Was it Pete coming back? But no, you realized. The engine was coming from the gas station you were passing on the corner, and it wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle. The rider pulled up to one of the free parking spots, cutting the engine and kicking out the kickstand. His back was turned to you, but you knew who it was already by the messy blonde hair and signature blue jacket lettered “Vandals” across the shoulder blades. You groaned because he was the last person you wanted to see right now but you needed to walk right by him to continue on your way home. And as ridiculous as it was, you wanted to cry harder at the thought of him seeing you crying.

When he dismounted, you quickened your pace, putting your head down in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice you. But of course, you heard him call out, “Hey, Little Bunny.”

You sniffed hard, quickly swiping your fingers across your cheeks as you heard him approach. Even though you didn’t slow your pace, he caught up to you quickly.

“You walkin’ home again?” His voice was light, teasing but you didn’t dare to look up at him. “You must really like–”

But he must have seen your tear-soaked face because he stopped, his hand gently grasping your upper arm. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, and against your better judgment, you glanced up at him. That was all it took before his shoulders visibly stiffened, and his jaw locked tightly. “Who did this?”

“Nobody,” you muttered softly, voice cracking. “I’m fine.”

“Was it Pete?” his grip remained firm on your arm.

“Please, just leave it alone, Benny,” you whispered desperately, and his eyes softened as he released you. A painfully long beat played out between you as you watched him decide if he wanted to press you further for details. But to your surprise, he dropped it, instead, reaching out, his calloused thumb brushing away a solitary tear from the apple of your cheek. You flinched at the contact, not expecting him to touch you so intimately. As quick as he was to make contact, so was he able to let his hand fall back to his side, leaving you wide-eyed at the act.

“Let me give you a ride home, please,” he asked, his voice so quiet, so compassionate that you were honestly dumbfounded that this was a biker in a notoriously revered club standing before you. “I don’t want you to have to walk back when you’re upset like this.”

You glanced down the sidewalk, knowing you still had a few miles to go before you’d see your house in the distance. You sniffed again, “You won’t try to propose to me again, will you?”

“No strings attached, I promise,” he replied quietly.

You relented, nodding slightly, and you didn’t protest when he slid his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together and gently tugged you back to his bike.

******

Benny drove slowly back to your house, and you just buried your face against his jacket the entire ride, focusing on the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. It gave you time to settle your breathing, to dry your tears, and when he finally did pull up to your house, a disappointed wave surfaced over you. He put both feet down to balance you both, but he didn’t cut the engine, and you didn’t release your arms from around his torso.

“Can we . . . keep going?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of just how patient he was willing to be with you.

“You wanna keep going?” he questioned over his shoulder, and you responded with a brief nod. “Where?”

“Anywhere, just not here.”

He pushed off the ground, revving the engine slightly and the bike picked up speed as you left your neighborhood. You tightened your grip as he drove you out of the city, down the long country roads, past barns and farms, out by the lake and through the winding back roads which cut the woods. He drove until the sun began to make its descent over the far wheat fields, the last warmth of those golden rays catching the two of you like a spotlight, like you were the only two people on stage. And you realized that’s what riding with Benny felt like: solidarity together. You’ve felt a strange sense of loneliness most of your life, even when you were surrounded by others who loved you, but with Benny . . . it was like you were finally being seen. No, not just seen, it was like you were finally being heard.

But reality came back too quickly when Benny pulled up to a stop light, hand moving to brush across yours as he asked, “You ready to go back now or d’you wanna keep going?”

Keep going, your heart wanted to shout, keep going and let’s drive until we hit the sandy beaches of California. But your head always won the battle in the end, and you only nodded mutely.

When Benny pulled up in front of your house again, he cut the engine, but remained seated. He held his hand out for you as you dismounted, and he wanted to say something – anything– to make sure that you were okay, to help you. But Benny’s not known for his good communication skills so he clenched his jaw tightly, frustration building in his chest. You needed him, you needed to be consoled, and he was so pathetic that he wasn’t even sure how.

Sure, he knew how to have someone’s back, especially in a fight. He knew how to throw punches and get back to his feet after getting knocked down. He could do that all day. But you staring at him with your Bambi eyes and heartbroken expression, he couldn’t take it. He just wanted to pull your tiny frame to him and kiss away the tears, to tell you that everything would be okay because he’s got your back. Then a horrible thought clouded his mind because what if he was the reason you were crying? A bitter taste filled his mouth at the possibility. And my god, how stupid could he be because of course he had to dig himself deeper into that hole when he had told you that he wouldn’t apologize for his conversation with your date. At the time he said it, he had no guilt or shame for his actions because he saw nothing wrong with it. He wanted you more than Pete did, he was sure of that. But now as he glanced at your sweet face, he realized that his actions could have hurt you. And all for what – his pride? That seemed so insignificant now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said ever-so-politely.

Before you could turn to walk to your front porch, Benny’s hand reached out to lightly touch your own, and he blurted out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to Pete. That was wrong, and I see that now. I’m sorry if what I did has hurt you in any way, that was never my intention.”

Your frown deepened, and Benny’s heart sank. But then you said, “I’m not upset with you, Benny, but thank you. That . . . that means a lot to me.”

He was at a loss for words, struck by your angelic voice and unwavering benevolence. He could only watch as you slipped from his grasp and turned away. You were walking away from him, but Benny couldn’t help but feel it meant something more than just putting physical distance between you. His mind raced with thoughts, trying to find something he could say to get you to stop, to be able to see your face again.

However, it seemed that fate had other plans because you halted in your tracks, hesitating a moment before spinning back around and approaching him again. He opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, but you cut him off as you leaned up and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. His heart skipped a beat at the gentle touch of your soft lips, and he widened his eyes as you pulled back, a shy smile on your face. He grinned because every time he thought he had you figured out, you continued to pull stunts on him. You were the most entertaining thing he knew.

You took a few steps backwards, but maintained his eye contact as you spoke, “Maybe . . . next time we could go a little faster?”

He knew you were referring to the bike, but God help him because heat burned in his lower belly, and he wanted to pick you up over his shoulder and carry you into your house where he’d show you just what speed he was capable of. He wasn’t sure you even knew what effect your words had on him, or if you even knew the sexual implications, but he felt himself losing a battle of will. “You want there to be a next time?”

You nodded and that adorable rosy color tinted your cheeks. “Yeah, if-if you do.”

He shook his head in disbelief that you were finally giving him a chance. Though looking at your sweet smile now, he didn’t seem to mind the extra effort he had to put in. “You wanna go fast? Look who’s the trouble now.”

You fought to control your smile. “Goodnight, Benny.”

“Night,” he replied as he watched you walk back up the steps to your house, his fingers ghosting over the spot on his cheek that you kissed, wondering if apologies were really that easy.

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love e @ironmooncat @imusicaddict @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @charmingballoon @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @semperamans @groovyangelkisses @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @twistedunivers5 @justsomewritingblog @nhlfs @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @nethanybear @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @pao-prazz @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite

#i'm not super happy with this but yolo #i need to stop being a perfectionist #austin butler #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #benny x reader #imagine #austin butler fandom

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potatoplace · 6 months ago

Text

A Place In This World

The Afterthought: Chapter 5 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

chapter 4 | chapter 6 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Working at Sevenda's is a welcome escape from the River House, where you've become little more than a ghost after Starfall.

Warnings: toxic family, depression, self deprecating thoughts (none of them are too terrible this chapter)

Words: ~8.4k

Author's Note: I never seem to get as far in the plot as I want to in every update... This chapter isn't too crazy exciting, but there's some sweet moments and a little bit of angst with the sisters. I hope you all enjoy this update! Title is of course from Miss Swift 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

Your neck was stiff when you came to, the beginnings of the morning sun spilling across your face.

The ground outside was glistening with a fresh layer of snow, nearly untouched at this time in the morning. It seemed even the early risers had chosen to sleep in today, after the revelry of Starfall last night.

You, however, wouldn't stay asleep any longer. Not with the cold numbness slithering through your chest, curling itself around your heart, your lungs, your ribs. An absent hand came to rub at your chest, to bring some semblance of life into your hollow heart once more.

No such luck.

A glance at the clock that had recently been placed above your bedroom door told you that it was half past six.

That gave you two and a half hours to bathe, drink tea, possibly eat something, dress, and make your way to Sevenda's.

You did just that, sinking down into hot water, a sigh leaving your lips as your body soaked in the heat. You could almost pretend you felt alive.

After forcing yourself from the bath, you dressed in a simple, dark green dress. It was made of cozy wool, and the long sleeves were easily pushed up to make whatever work Sevenda would give you easier. It fit you loosely and reached to just above the tops of your feet, something you were grateful for after last night.

The feel of all those males' eyes on you... It was unsettling then, and unsettling to think about now. You could hardly imagine wanting to be looked at like that by someone you actually liked, let alone by strangers... How could Feyre stand it? How could anyone stand it? You supposed each person was different...

You shook your head, clearing those thoughts away. No need to contemplate how inexperienced you are in the romantic world, despite what Nesta claims.

Quietly, you crept downstairs, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be awake, teapot in hand. Thankfully, no one was in the kitchen yet, and you were able to prepare a pot of tea with no interruptions. Safely ensconced in your room again, you sipped at the lovely orange and cinnamon tea you had made.

As you stared out at the still-sleeping city, your mind drifted to last night. How Feyre had had no time for you, and Mor hadn't appeared while you had been in the House of Wind. Feyre had been crowded by the citizens of her city, that was understandable... Mor not showing up worried you though, but you were sure there was an explanation. And your other sisters and their mates, well, you hadn't believed they would interact with you anyways.

Azriel had been... Surprising. Caring. Sweet, almost. Him noticing that you had left wasn't something you had even considered, with how close he had been with the pretty redheaded friend of Nesta's. And... You had become accustomed to not having your absence noticed.

Your eyes closed for a moment, a wave of sadness washing over you.

You still felt so alone.

The minutes continued ticking past as you stared blankly out the window, sipping on your tea when you remembered to.

Soon enough, it was fifteen minutes until nine, and you peeled yourself out of the armchair. Boots first, then the short cloak, scarf, and mittens Azriel had given you for Solstice- also the ones that he had draped around you last night in the cold.

You wondered how he had gotten them...

You just barely remembered to grab the cup that Sevenda had lent to you before you snuck out of the River House, into the snowy city.

The walk to Sevenda's was peaceful, quiet. Most citizens of Velaris seemed to still be sleeping, and the blanket of snow on the ground muffled everything. The silence of the normally bustling city matched the feeling in your heart.

Empty. Cold. Quiet.

Sevenda's was warm already, the smell of spices lingering pleasantly in the air when you pushed your way in through the door.

"Ah, Y/N! Lovely to see that you decided to come in," Sevenda's warm voice greeted you from the left, a hand waved in greeting.

"It's nice to see you too, Sevenda. And thank you, again. I really appreciate the offer. I brought back your cup," you added, raising your hand to show it.

"Thank you, dear," Sevenda said, taking said cup from your hands. "Would you like to get started?"

You nodded your head, and let the fae lead you to the back of the restaurant, into the kitchens. It was large, with multiple shiny, silver stoves along the back wall, three matching cold boxes, a wall completely taken up by pots, pans, anything that you would need to cook. There was also counter space galore, with two other fae already working dough in the far corner.

"For today, I'm going to see how you do with prep work, mainly with fruits, vegetables, and meats. If you do well, I'll keep you on full time, if you'd like," Sevenda said, her words sparking a bit of hope in your chest.

Chopping, dicing, cutting. You could do that.

"That sounds perfect, Sevenda. Thank you for giving me this chance."

Sevenda smiled warmly at you, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Of course, dear. Now... Are you feeling alright?" She asked more quietly, a concerned look in her eyes.

You nodded. Even though you weren't, you didn't want to rehash last night's events. "Yes, thank you." You even shot her a smile that you hoped was at least half-convincing, relieved when she returned the expression. "What should I start with?"

"First, you'll need an apron and to wash your hands," Sevenda said, leading you to the large sink, which conviently had a plethora of aprons hanging on hooks next to it.

You did as she asked, scrubbing your hands under hot water halfway up your forearm, dress sleeves already pushed up to your elbows. You tied a dark blue apron around your neck and waist, and faced Sevenda, who was pulling a cutting board from a cabinet. You noted the location, wanting to be as useful as possible as often as possible.

"I'll start you off by demonstrating how I like everything to be cut, and you'll do the same thing right after. I know it will be a lot to take in, but most of it is fairly simple. Let me know if you have any questions, alright?"

"Alright," you said resolutely, nodding your head.

The hours passed quickly, filled with you absorbing the information that Sevenda was feeding you through her demonstrations, taking in every angle that she used the knife at. You did decently, your cuts a bit clumsier than Sevenda's but still accurate enough. She was kinda, reassuring you that in time, you'd gain confidence and surety in your movements.

It was lovely.

Feeling needed. Feeling useful. You had entirely forgotten how that felt over the last two years, being the extra sister with no magic to help in a way that someone else couldn't.

By the time your shift was finished, Sevenda had pulled you aside to speak with you, anxiety building in your gut even as she smiled warmly at you.

"I'd like to hire you on immediately, full-time if you'd like," Sevenda offered, a twinkle in her eyes. "You've already got the basics down, and you're on track to catch up with my other prep cooks so long as you keep at it with the same enthusiasm you showed today. So... Would you like to have a job?"

A smile- a true, unburdened smile spread over your lips. "I'd love to, Sevenda. Thank you so, so much for this opportunity."

"Thank you for solving my dilemma of hiring a new prep cook, Y/N! Now, do you have an account with the Bank of Velaris already?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "I do... But it's the one that Rhys and Feyre set up for me. Would I be able to make a new account?"

You still felt like such a child, knowing so little about how the city you lived in worked. You had spent so long wishing and longing to leave that you'd hardly taken the time to learn about Velaris. Seeing how you were stuck here, likely permanently... The thought sent a pang of sickness to your stomach. But still, since you were stuck here, you might as well start learning about the city in which you will die.

"I'm sure that could be set up... Would you like any help with it?" Sevenda asked.

"That would be amazing, but you don't have to," you said, hoping that she didn't feel forced to help you, after your breakdown last night.

"Oh, nonsense, I'd love to help you Y/N. We can go in a few minutes, I just have a few more questions for you. Now... Would you like to work five or six days a week?"

That was an easy choice. "Six days would be best, I think." Less time in that house, waiting to be left out of events and dinner conversations.

"Alright, and if you ever want to go down to five days, just let me know and we can work something out. Do you have a specific day that you'd like off?" You shook your head. "Would Mondays be fine with you?"

"Mondays would be just fine," you replied. "Do you..." You paused, rolling the question over in your head. "Do you know of any apartments for rent? You don't have to answer, of course, I just thought I would ask," you said quickly, already regretting the question.

Sevenda merely smiled at you. "I do know of a few close by. Once you have a week or two of pay in your account, we could go look at a few sometime, if you'd like?"

You nodded quickly. "That would be amazing, Sevenda. Did you have any other questions for me?"

Sevenda closed her eyes for a moment before fixing them on you once more. "None that I can think of at the moment, but you'll be back tomorrow in case I forgot anything. Now, let's go get you a personal bank account," she said cheerily, rising from the table you had sat at. You followed her lead, letting her take you to the large, white marble building that had a large matching sign with, presumably, its name written in the large gold lettering on it.

Making an account was easy enough, and within the hour you had a small metal card, magically linked to your bank account in hand, your first day of pay already deposited by Sevenda.

You walked back to her restaurant with her, parting with a brief hug, initiated by Sevenda.

"I'll see you in the morning, Sevenda," you said, the words repeated back to you by the kind, chocolate eyed fae.

And then your legs carried you without thinking, back to the River House. The snow had melted just slightly, and was significantly more trampled than when you had arrived this morning. The sun was nearly set already, casting a pretty orangey-pink glow over the city.

Pretty.

The River House was warm when you entered, and thankfully there was no boisterous laughter coming from the living or dining rooms.

A part of you still longed for someone to ask where you were, what you had been doing all day.

But you knew better by now. And you were proven correct when no one came to greet you, even while you made a small dinner of rice with grilled vegetables. You even ate in the dining room, a rarity for you in the past months, the tiniest part of you hoping that Feyre might come in to talk with you. Or that Mor would show up, and you could spend part of the evening together.

Neither happened, and soon enough you were back in your room, a fresh pot of tea in hand, soothing, calming lavender and chamomile again.

You had enjoyed your day at work, but it had exhausted you. All you wanted at the moment was to fall asleep, but you chose to do something else before crawling into your makeshift bed in the tub tonight.

You would try to read. With your gift from the twins in hand, you pulled the cookbook that Nesta had gifted you, filled with lovely illustrations of soups and stews from all corners of Prythian.

Slowly, you let the magnifying glass read out the title a few times, your brain trying to make sense of the letters on the cover turning into the words you were hearing. It was embarrassing, how long it took you to be able to understand a sentence, even with it being read aloud to you. Heat rushed to your face, even with no one in the room to witness your shortcomings.

You tried reading a recipe, going one word at a time with the glass. That... Sort of worked, though it was slow going. And you felt like the only reason you were mildly successful was that the words were being read aloud to you.

How pathetic.

You sighed heavily before draining your last cup of tea and shutting the recipe book. That was enough of disappointing yourself for the night.

You stripped yourself of the dress you'd donned the morning, changing into a soft, long sleeved white cotton sleep dress that met the skin of your ankles, swishing softly against them with each step.

Sleep came easily to you that night, your body tired from doing so much work when it had grown accustomed to sleeping all day and rarely moving. It was a pleasant kind of tired, though, letting you drift into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning went much the same, with you rising before the sun to bathe and have a soothing pot of tea. Work flew by, with you completely focused on improving your knife skills for the seven hours you were there, determined to not let Sevenda down.

Before you knew it, you'd already worked three days in Sevenda's homey restaurant, settling in comfortably, even with the other fae you now worked with. Josi and Torma were the other two prep cooks, and both of them had been warm and welcoming to you. Sevenda's sous chef, Wren, had been a little less friendly, but you'd noticed that he was like that with everyone except Sevenda. He wasn't rude, or anything, just quieter.

It was on your fourth morning of work, a Saturday, that your routine was interrupted.

Azriel was in the kitchen, patiently watching a pot of oatmeal cook, shadows playing around his wings and over his shoulders, a couple of them breaking away to crawl up to his ears.

"Good morning," you said quietly, going to the cupboard that housed the kettle.

"Good morning, Y/N. You're up early," Azriel remarked in a neutral tone, neither judging nor questioning.

"Mm, thought I'd have a cup of tea before everyone else was buzzing around..." You said, feeling mildly guilty that you hadn't told him the full truth. You set to filling the water and setting it on the burner next to the one Azriel was using, then turned to grab your teapot. "Would you like a cup?" You asked before you could stop yourself and consider the possibility of being rejected, even for a simple cup of tea.

"I would very much, Y/N, thank you. Would you like some oatmeal? I'm afraid I've made too much..." Azriel said softly, a tiny frown on his face as he stared at the pot before him.

A small smile grew on your face at his reaction. "That would be nice, thank you." You pulled two of your teacups out of the cupboard. A few minutes later, the two of you were sat on stools at the kitchen island, a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea in front of each of you. The oatmeal was delicious, flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, which paired well with the apple cinnamon tea you had brewed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally stifling a giggle when a shadow brushed over you, their cool touch tickling the back of your neck and your ankles. Curious little things...

Soon enough, though, it was time for you to depart from the River House, and return to the one place that you felt wanted in this city. Azriel had finished his breakfast as well, so you grabbed his dishes, ignoring his protests in favor of washing them.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

You rolled your eyes playfully, even though he couldn't see your expression. "I know that, I wanted to." Bowls, cups, silverware were all placed in the dish rack, clean and shiny from the water dripping off of them. Once that was finished, you returned to your room for a brief moment to grab your scarf and hat, and when you returned downstairs Azriel was lingering near the front door.

"Going somewhere?" Azriel asked neutrally, only a bit of curiosity in his tone.

You blinked at him once, twice. Strange, that it would be him who would know that you were employed first. "Yes, I'm going to work," you said plainly, hoping that his neutrality would continue. While you wanted your sisters to know... You wanted them to find out because they paid attention, not because Azriel had.

"Oh? Could I walk you there?" His question caught you off guard- if anything, you had anticipated him asking if Feyre or Rhys knew or had approved of the job. In your surprise, you nodded in agreement, and moments later the two of you were out the door, walking through the fresh layer of snow that had fallen overnight. You noticed a few of his shadows moving in front of you, pushing some of the snow from your path.

Cute.

"How long have you been working?" Azriel asked from your right, following the path you were taking.

"Just a few days, so far," you replied, trying to give the minimum information so you wouldn't bore him... Starting a new job was hardly an accomplishment for a fae of his age.

"Are you liking it?"

You nodded immediately. "I'm loving it already, working with food is probably the most natural choice I could have made." Too many words...

"That's wonderful, Y/N. It's nice to see you smile again," Azriel said softly, drawing your eyes to him. He was wearing a small smile on his lips, one that you realized matched your expression. A light flush spread over your cheeks- was your happiness always so obvious?

"It's nice to feel like smiling again..." You said quietly, more to the air around you than Azriel himself.

Sevenda's was in sight now, and you slowed your pace. While Azriel may just be being nice... He was still being nice to you. And having someone be kind to you was something you craved nearly every second of every day, so you wanted to savor it, even if it was selfish.

"Do..." Azriel paused, as if he was considering his words carefully. "Does Feyre know that you're working? She hasn't mentioned it."

"Uhm... No, I haven't told anyone yet," you admitted.

You saw Azriel nod his head in your peripheral, and you hoped it was one of understanding.

"Do you want them to know?"

You hesitated. "If you're asking if you can tell them... I'd rather you not."

Another nod as you approached the door to Sevenda's, stopping in front of it. "I won't tell them, then. Sevenda's, hmm?" You bobbed your head in confirmation. "That's good, she's a great boss from everything I've heard."

"She's amazing, if I can be honest," you said, gratitude in your voice. And she was. She had been so kind to you, and so helpful.

"I'm glad, Y/N," Azriel said, his voice the warmest that you had ever heard from him. "I'll let you get inside. Have a good shift."

"Thank you, Azriel. Have a good day," you said, waving goodbye to him before entering the warm restaurant, a smile on your face.

Your day passed quickly, filled with the delicious smell of spices and fresh cut vegetables, the sounds of sizzling meats and bubbling stews. This job at Sevenda's was truly a blessing, distracting both your mind and body as you listened to the friendly chatter between your coworkers and focused on what you were doing.

The River House sounded empty when you returned, completely devoid of sound. No running water, or voices in the living room. The entire night, you saw no one, not even Nuala or Cerridwen. You even spent a few minutes sipping tea in the living room - though you left quickly, feeling out of place even while alone - hoping to see Feyre for a moment. You hadn't seen her since Starfall, and... You wanted to see her. You also would have been able to ask her where Mor was, but alas, the question would have to wait.

The next evening, after your final day before having a day off, you saw Feyre for the first time in five days. She was glowing with happiness, both naturally and from the magic you knew she had gotten from... One of the High Lords - you still weren't sure which.

"Y/N! Come, sit with me for a little bit," Feyre said, dragging you onto the couch in the living room with her. You had just barely gotten your boots and scarf off before she met you in the entryway. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"It has been a bit," you agreed, settling in beside her. You glanced around, noting that Nesta and Elain were seated next to each other on the love seat, angry stares trained on you.

At least they weren't glaring yet...?

"So, how have you been?" Feyre asked you, drawing your attention away from your other sisters and back to her.

"I've been fine, Fey. Just..." You debated telling her about your job. That would also mean Nesta and Elain knowing... But... You wanted Feyre to know. "I've been... I've been working."

Nesta scoffed from where she was seated, whispering something to Elain. You frowned. What problem could she possibly have with you having a job?

"Really?" Feyre asked skeptically. "You... Where are you working?"

Her tone, the sheer disbelief in her voice had you regretting ever opening your mouth. Being honest was obviously not a good choice for you anymore. "At Sevenda's restaurant..." You said quietly, met with a dainty snort from Elain. Heat rushed to your face, especially when Feyre frowned at you, as though she didn't believe you.

"Really? That's... That's really nice, Y/N. I'm happy for you," Feyre said with a strained smile. You didn't believe her for a second.

Still... "Thank you, Feyre. What about you? How have you been feeling?"

"Tired," Feyre moaned dramatically, a hand on her forehead. "The little one seems to be draining all of my energy, I've had to start eating double what I normally do just to feel like I can function."

"Maybe you can stop by Sevenda's when Y/N is working," Nesta suggested in a snarky tone, causing Elain to giggle into her hand. "If she even works there... What Sevenda would need with you, I have no idea."

Tears pricked at your eyes, though you fought them. Why were they so mean to you?

Feyre glared at Nesta, but said nothing in your defense.

She probably agreed with Nesta's words.

"I'm sorry that you're feeling so exhausted Feyre. Maybe there's something that could be taken off your plate for a little bit, until you're feeling better?" Another scoff from Nesta.

"I don't think there is, Y/N. It takes a lot to run a court..."

You knew that. Of course you knew that. "Oh... Well, I hope that you feel better soon, then. I'm... I'm going to go take a bath. I'll see you later?"

Feyre nodded. "I'll see you later. At dinner?"

There was no way in hell you would be showing at dinner tonight. "Maybe," you said, standing from your place next to her. You made your way out of the living room, ignoring Nesta and Elain's glares, up the stairs and into your room.

Happy. You had been happy when you returned home. You were proud of the fact that you had gotten a job. And yet the three people that should have cared, should have shared in your happiness and pride? They couldn't care less. They didn't even believe you.

That only served to solidify your choice to leave this cursed house as soon as you could, to continue in your plan to have your own living space. And, of course, it put tears on your cheeks, on the blanket that you curled into as you laid in the bathtub.

🤍🤍💖🤍🤍

In your first three weeks of work, you never saw Mor. You did, however, receive a letter from her on your first day off, read to you by the glass the twins had gifted you. She had apologized profusely for not showing up to Starfall, though she had a good reason. The citizens of the Hewn City had demanded to have a member of the High Lord's Inner Circle stay with them through the celebration, and as the only one already there, that duty had fallen to her. And in the week since, she had been constantly fighting with Keir over the upcoming election that was planned, hardly having a moment to herself.

Which was why the letter had taken so long to be written.

You felt horrible for having thought she had abandoned you, though you knew there was a reason you had jumped to such a conclusion.

Every week since then, Mor had managed to find the time to write you a letter, each one asking about how you had been, informing you of the lastest bullshit her father had put her through. You looked forward to each letter from her, but wished that you could see her in person, or at least write a letter in response. You missed your friend. According to her most recent letter, the one that had arrived two days ago, she would be returning to Velaris for a few days in the next week.

You were excited to see her again, but more than that, you were excited to move into your apartment today.

Sevenda had shown you to two different available apartments last week, and on Monday you had signed your lease. The building was only a couple of blocks away from Sevenda's, and it was a cute little place on the third floor, with a balcony that had a decent view of the mouth of the Sidra and the harbor. You already knew that you would be taking your tea on it once the weather had warmed, the view was too amazing to pass up an opportunity to look over.

The walls inside had already been done in a shade of light pink the day before, the cabinets of the kitchen coated in a pale lavender, a move in gift from your new landlord. It was a small space, that was true. Besides the bathroom and built in closet, the apartment was one large room, with no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, the kitchen from the bedroom.

But you didn't mind.

Because it was yours.

And truly, how much space did you need? There would be enough room to have a small dining table, a loveseat and a couple of armchairs in front of the fireplace - which you had been absolutely delighted to see - and a large bed. You could even put up screens or curtains to partition off your bedroom, if you felt like it.

The possibilities felt endless as you lugged your small amount of belongings over to your new place, bursting at the seams with happiness.

Today, Sevenda had given you the day off so that you could move in, though you had tried to insist that you wouldn't need the whole day. Still, she had made it clear that you deserved the day to settle in and purchase whatever you needed, even going as far to give you a week of advanced pay.

Moving your belongings took you less than an hour, even in the snow, and only three separate trips between the River House and your apartment. The presents you had recieved for your birthday and Solstice, the clothing that you couldn't part with, skincare items, and your hairpin all went with you, but everything else in your old room stayed.

You had decided against informing anyone of your move, choosing instead to quietly remove your things. If they truly cared about you, they would notice your absence soon.

If they didn't... You would deal with that if it came.

By midday, you were shopping in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, on the hunt for cookware. You already had the wonderful measuring cups and spoons that Nuala and Cerridwen had gifted you, as well as your tea set from Azriel, but you would need a bit more than that to be able to cook at home.

That lead to you entering a lovely little shop, filled to the brim with pots, pans, and cooking utensils in every color of the rainbow.

For now, you only bought one frying pan and one pot with a lid, both in a shade of pink that matched your measuring cups. You also purchased a set of three mixing bowls in the same shade, made of a light but durable clay. A spatula, wooden spoon, whisk, and a set of silverware also came home with you, along with a few cleaning supplies that the store happened to carry, but anything else could wait for now.

You carried your bounty home, arms sagging under the weight of your purchases as you climbed the stairs to your apartment. Everything was put away in a matter of minutes, and you allowed yourself to relax on the floor for a bit, letting your arms flop out to the sides.

You could hardly believe it... A smile crept across your face as you lay on the floor of your own apartment, that you had earned the money for. You had done this for yourself, all on your own.

Once your arms felt less weak and tired, you sat up and looked around the room. It was... Fairly barren. Your pink bedding set and blanket from Mor were in the far right corner of the apartment, the box of your clothing placed next to it. Near the door to the bathroom you had placed your box of toiletries, and in the kitchen you had already stacked your cookbooks and teas on the counter and placed your dishes in the cupboards.

You needed some kind of furniture tonight, if you could manage to find something your weak arms could carry home.

And towels! How had your forgotten about towels? Oh- and food, you would need something at least for tonight.

You let out a breath. Maybe Sevenda was right, that you would need most of the day to get settled. You got up after another moment and put your boots back on, along with your hat and scarf.

A trip to the Palace of Thread and Jewels provided you with the towels you needed, in an assortment of pastel shades and sizes, as well as a fluffy purple bath mat. You even remembered to pick out two fluffy pillows as well, just in case you slept on the floor or in the tub tonight. As you were leaving the Palace, you couldn't help but pick out a soft, sky blue blanket one of the outdoor stalls, the green skinned fae bidding you farewell with a kind smile. You walked home, snow beginning to fall just before you entered the building.

You deposited your bags on the floor to the left of your front door, and set down the stairs immediately after locking up. Before the snow started to accumulate, you wanted to get a chair or something so that you would have a place to sleep for the night. If you couldn't find anything... Well, the bathtub looked to be the same size as the one in the River House.

When you had been out earlier, you thought you had spotted a second hand store, filled with mismatched furniture. You retraced your steps, and found it to be in the middle of the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Inside, it was cluttered, with small paths leading through the building. It was near the back of the store that you found something you might like- a tall backed, wooden chair with a pink velvet cushion and backing, the legs of the chair curved and elegant.

Why would someone ever part ways with this?

You continued to the back of the store, finding a pale, short fae male sitting behind a counter, reading a book.

"Hi, I'd, uhm... I'd like to buy a chair that you have?" You asked shyly.

"Which one?" He asked, without looking up from his book.

"The uh. The wooden chair with pink velvet on it."

"Fifty gold marks," the male said shortly, a hand extending to take your bank card and press it to his ledger, all while continuing to read. He handed it back a moment later. "Have a good day, miss."

"Thank you," you said quietly before leaving the counter, going to collect the chair into your arms.

The walk home was slow going, the chair decidedly too big for you to comfortably carry for more than a few steps at a time. But still, you made it, dragging the piece of furniture up the stairs and through your door. You managed to lug it in front of the fireplace, settling into it for a moment.

You almost decided to skip getting ingredients for dinner... But your stomach rumbled in protest, at the thought of continuing to neglect your health in favor of avoiding discomfort. So instead, you pulled yourself from your new chair, then went back down the stairs and into the snowy city one last time today.

The Palace of Hoof and Leaf was a bit further than the Palace of Bone and Salt, but you knew where to find what you were planning to cook for dinner. It was easy enough to find rice, chicken, zucchini, broccoli, and a small set of spices, a large enough selection to satisfy you for at least your first month. Snow had begun to fall heavily while you had been in and out of shops, already covering the tracks that had been on the bridge when you had crossed it earlier, and when you finally made it up the stairs and through your front door, you were feeling tired.

Tired enough that for the moment, you placed the chicken in your cold box then walked over your chair, and plopped down.

You would consider today a success, even with how tired you now were. After all, you were tired in your chair, in your apartment.

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

Two days after you moved, you had an unexpected knock on your door, just a few minutes after you returned home from work.

Perhaps it was finally Feyre, realizing that you had moved.

You were proven wrong when you opened the door, however, to see Azriel standing before you, a cloth bag filled to the brim with little jars.

"I- Hello," you said, surprised at him being here, even if he had taken to walking you to work on the mornings he was in town. "Can I- Can I help you?"

"I just returned from Illyria, only to find one of my shadows to be very frantic over the sudden emptiness of your room," Azriel said, though there was no accusation in his tone. "And after I spoke with Sevenda, she... She directed me here. I hope that's alright?"

You were even more surprised by the efforts he had gone to to find you, than his presence at this point. "That's fine, Azriel. Was there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"I... Yes," Azriel said, somewhat shyly, and you swore that you almost saw a flush covering his cheeks. "You never did tell me which teas you enjoyed, so I brought you a jar of each. I thought you might like to have a bit more, now that you're living on your own."

That was... Incredibly sweet of him to do. You were running low on your tea stash at the moment, and knowing that he'd thought of you...

Don't get any feelings, or hints of feelings, you reminded yourself. Humans and fae don't belong together, no matter how kind and attractive they are.

"Thank you, Azriel," you said, stepping aside to let him through the doorway. It was only polite, after all, to let him in. "I'll take those," you said as you grabbed the bag from his hand, moving into the kitchen to take arrange the little jars on your counter.

"You don't have a bed," Azriel observed from behind you, a hand on your chair, where your blankets were still piled.

"Oh, I'm uhm... I'm still working on that," you said sheepishly, abandoning your task of organizing the jars. Your eyes darted over everything, looking for anything else he could find issue with.

"Let's go solve that, then."

"I- What?" You asked, thoroughly confused. He was offering to go shopping with you...?

"We can go find you a bed today, Y/N. You need something to sleep on, and while a chair is fine for a little bit, it really would be best for you to have a bed," Azriel said simply. You were still staring at him in shock, so he sighed lightly and said, "Think of it as a housewarming gift, Y/N. You can pick out whatever you want, and my shadows will bring it here for you."

"I- But... Why?" You managed to get out, even as you mentally kicked yourself for being so awkward.

Azriel's mouth turned up in the corners at your reaction. "You need a bed, and I'd like to know that you're sleeping comfortably."

"But... Why?" You repeated, still confused.

Azriel sighed and shook his head. "You're my friend, Y/N, I like to know that my friends are well taken care of. And that starts with a good night's sleep, which starts with a bed," he explained as he walked over to your closet, pulling out the scarf and hat that he had gifted you. He wrapped the scarf around your neck and put the hat on your head, lips turning up more as you stood there and let him. "Now get your boots on, unless you really don't want to go."

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him, but you did as he said, slipping your boots on and lacing them up. "Alright... Thank you, Azriel."

His lips turned up into a full smile this time, a beautiful sight on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Now, let's get going before it gets too dark."

You let him lead you across the Sidra, to a shop in the Palace of Flame and Steel that specialized in wooden furniture.

"Pick out whichever one you like most," Azriel had told you, with a pointed look telling you that he would know if you tried to pick the least expensive option.

He watched as you went from bed to bed, mattress to mattress trying to find the right combination. You had been in the store for nearly an hour by the time you made your choice, settling on a walnut frame. It had a nice headboard, with little creatures carved into the posts on both sides, a feature that was continued at the corners of the end of the bed. Some of them looked like little cats, a pet that you had always wanted to have but never could afford in the human lands, and when you had been able to, your family had firmly shut the idea down.

For the mattress, you had laid on one that felt like a cloud, supporting your body in a way that you had never experienced. Perhaps... Perhaps Azriel was right, after all.

You felt dreadful, though, as he paid for your new furniture, even as he reassured you that it was a housewarming present and he was more than fine paying double the amount if he had needed to.

He walked you back to your apartment, and, as promised, your new bed was already set up along the back wall, looking extremely inviting even without bedding on it.

"You should let me repay you," you insisted to Azriel, a hand on his forearm stopping him from leaving. "I can't... This is too much," you said.

Azriel's eyes shined with understanding as he read the guilt in your own. "It's okay, you know. To be given things, without the need to reciprocate. But... If you still feel that you need to repay me, I suppose you could make me dinner some time," Azriel suggested.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you sure I can't pay you back?"

He shook his head. "The only payment I will accept is in the form of food, Y/N. Again, this is a housewarming present, it is a gift that I am giving to you of my own free will. I am, however, partial to your cooking, which is why I would accept that as payment."

You sighed, but nodded your head. You would pay him back with food, as often as he liked. "What days are you in the city?"

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

It took two more days before Mor was in town, which you found out about two hours into your shift when she burst into Sevenda's, speaking loudly enough that you could hear her in the kitchen.

A moment later Sevenda appeared, your blonde friend in tow.

"Y/N!" Mor exclaimed, pulling you into a hug once you had set down your knife. "Oh, girl, I have missed you so much!"

You squeezed her back tightly, overjoyed to see her again. "I've missed you too, Mor!"

Mor pulled away a moment later, her face serious. "Where are all of your things? I went up to your room in the River House to see you, and none of your stuff is there! Feyre had no idea either..."

A flush spread over your cheeks. "Oh, uhm... I moved out?" You said hesitantly.

Mor blinked at you a few times before a smile slid over her face. "You... Moved out?" She giggled. "And you didn't tell anyone? Was it this morning?"

You shook your head. "No, it was on Wednesday," you admitted softly, turning your gaze to the floor.

"And Feyre didn't... Oh, sweets," Mor cooed, pulling you into another hug and stroking your hair. You pushed her away after a moment, face bright red at being comforted in front of your coworkers.

"It's okay, Mor, really. I've already accepted that they don't notice me," you said, hoping that you had successfully hidden your pain. You may have accepted that your sisters pay you no attention, but it didn't mean your heart didn't hurt.

Mor frowned at you, but accepted your answer for the time being. "Well, when are you off work? I can stop by again, and you can show me your apartment!"

"I'm normally off right around five, you could come back then."

"Sounds like a plan, sweets!" Mor said brightly before leaving the kitchen, waving at you before being shooed out by Sevenda.

You quickly got back to work, determined to make the day pass by quickly.

And it did. The next five hours went by fast, filling you with a feeling of accomplishment as you finished everything Sevenda had asked you to do a few minutes faster than usual. Something as simple as that made your day so much brighter, easier to fight away the feeling of loneliness that followed you most hours of the day.

Mor met you outside as she'd said she would, a shining ray of sunlight even as the sun had begun to set.

"So- I leave town for a few weeks, not that I wanted to," Mor grumbled as you linked arms with her and began to lead her to your apartment. "And when I come back, you've already had a job for three weeks and you've moved into your own apartment? I am so proud of you Y/N."

You blushed at her words, but still allowed yourself to soak them in. "Thank you, Mor. I'm glad that you're okay with it."

Mor frowned. "Why wouldn't I be okay with it? I think it's amazing that you decided to move out, everyone deserves their independence."

You nodded, but your thoughts were on your sisters... What they surely thought of you, leaving without a word... "It's just... I don't know. My sisters... Weren't very supportive of me even having a job, let alone having my own apartment."

"Oh, hon, don't worry about them. I think they're just jealous of you having your own life outside of our little circle. Now, Nesta and Elain... They could certainly use a talking to," Mor hissed. "And Feyre isn't much better, letting them get away with their behavior."

You shook your head. What would they have to be jealous of? Being lonely? Having at most three friends, if you were being generous with the term? "It's fine, Mor, really. I've stopped expecting them to act any certain way, it's just... Easier."

Mor sighed next to you. "I suppose so... Anyways, tell me what's been going on!" Mor said cheerily, sensing your hesitancy to speak about your sisters.

"Well... Not much, beyond the moving out and getting a job. Although..." You thought about Azriel, how you now considered him a friend- and he thought the same of you. "Azriel has been very nice, he brought me some tea blends when he found out I moved. And helped me find a bed."

"Oh, I'm sure he did," Mor said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You smacked her arm lightly and shot her as much of a glare as you could muster.

"Not like that Mor!" You exclaimed, blood rushing to your cheeks at her insinuation. "He helped me go to a store and his shadows brought it back to my apartment."

"Oooh," Mor laughed. "Okay, I misunderstood, Y/N. I'm glad that he's been a good friend to you while I've been away."

"I am too, Mor," you said softly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

You unlocked the front door of your building, letting Mor pass through the doorway before you, then led her up the stairs.

"Three flights? I must be spoiled, only having a flight to go up one at my place," Mor said by the time you reached the top, your fingers fumbling for the correct key.

"It's not all that bad, Mor," you giggled as you swung the door open, letting her go in first, and closing the door softly behind you.

"Oh, Y/N! This apartment is so you!" Mor said brightly as she looked around. "The bed looks amazing." She flopped down on it, sighing happily after she did. "You chose good, sweets."

"Thank you," you giggled, plopping down next to her. "I'm so glad the owner was willing to paint, it saved me from trying to do it myself."

"And it looks lovely too, and as I said, very you. So," Mor started, a hand flung onto your thigh. "I thought, if you have a day off while I'm in town, we could do a sleepover again! Either here or at my apartment, whichever you'd prefer."

"That sounds lovely Mor. If you're still here tomorrow, and you don't have plans tonight, I have tomorrow off," you offered.

"That's perfect! I'll go get a change of clothes and pick up some food on my way back, if that works for you, Y/N."

You nodded. "That sounds like a plan to me, Mor. I'll see you in a little bit?" The two of you stood from your bed, Mor's hair the tiniest bit rumpled from being squished against your mattress.

"Yep! Any preferences on food?"

You shook your head. "Anything is fine by me Mor, get whatever you've been missing while in the Hewn City."

Mor's face scrunched up at the mention of the Hewn City. "Don't remind me," she groaned. "I think I'll get some kind of pasta. Pasta sounds perfect for a sleepover."

"That sounds good to me. Walk safely, Mor, it's been slick out at this time recently," you warned, smiling when Mor winked at you playfully.

"I'm always careful, sweets. See you in a bit!"

You shut the door behind her, a smile on your face. You hadn't realized just how much you had missed your friend until you saw her again.

Not wanting to waste your alone time, though, you pulled yourself into the bath, determined to finish before Mor returned. While you didn't feel disgusting, you felt a bit dirty from work still, and if you're spending the night with Mor you'd like to smell decent.

Still, you let yourself relax in the steaming water for a few minutes, bubbles coating the water's surface. Your lungs expanded and collapsed rhythmically, lulling your heart into a state of peace.

Maybe... Maybe you could belong in Velaris.

Maybe it was your sisters that you didn't belong with, any more.

But with Mor? With Azriel? At work? You felt like you had begun to carve out a tiny little place for you to exist peacefully, if not happily.

A deep sigh left you.

You wished... You wished you could belong with your sisters once more. Your heart longed to see them, to share your joy with them. But... They never seemed to share in it with you.

So, you would settle for carving out a space for yourself.

No, it's not settling, you told yourself as you began to scrub at your body with a cloth. It's choosing to live, not to merely exist.

You may not know what you want out of life, but you're willing to find out now.

You willing to try your hand at living once more.

🤍🤍💝🤍🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao

The Afterthought Taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd @kingshitonly @bravo-delta-eccho @bluebries81 @liahaslosthermind @deepestmentalitypersona @historygeekqueen @hermajestysworld @marina468 @esposamultifandom @astrokitty18 @larissa01-blog2 @acourtofbatboydreams @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @thelov3lybookworm @weekendlusting @dxjaaaa @thejediprincess56 @casiiopea2 @butterfix @sirenpearldust @marrass @satiresunflower @mae-foster @boo-shalala @optimisticbabydreamer @sttvrdustt @bunnybella186

#the afterthought #a place in this world #acotar x reader #archeron!reader #acotar x archeron!reader #acotar x reader angst #angst #fluff #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #toxic inner circle #tato writes

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