After finding you in the present, Husband!Sukuna tries to apologize for leaving you back in the Heian Era...
This is part 2 of this drabble :)
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“These won’t do,” Sukuna chimed in, manifesting a mouth on Yuji’s cheek while the two of them perused the flower shop–the second one they’d been to that day, since Sukuna was picky about the flowers he wanted to gift to you. “None of these would be to her liking.”
“Are you sure?” Yuji questioned, wanting nothing more than to just go back to the dorms and forget that he was harboring an ancient evil curse. “These are pretty-”
“I couldn’t care less what you think looks pretty or not. I know my wife, and these are below her standards. Look at the lot of them–wilted and dreary. Giving her a bouquet of these would surely send the wrong message.”
What an odd statement for the King of Curses to make, Yuji thought. How did Gojo go on to describe Sukuna to his vessel?
‘...Ryomen Sukuna is a fierce imaginary god with four arms and two faces. In the Golden Age of jujutsu, sorcerers gathered up all their might to challenge him and failed…’
That’s right–and Gojo’s explanation of Yuji’s parasite depicted a mental image of some ruthless monster, not a self-proclaimed botanist that would jump through hoops to suck up to anyone, not even his wife.
But, while the boy was irritated to be forced around to flower shops on his one day off, he had to admit that it was nice to have a break from the murderous mental images and constant negativity supplied by Sukuna. He’d rather listen to the King of Curses ponder flowers and their meanings any day.
“I think you sent the wrong message when you abandoned her back in the Heian Era,” Yuji grumbled as he ventured toward the front of the store.
“And I think you should stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
The boy scoffed, “It wouldn’t be somewhere it doesn’t belong if you hadn’t-”
“Quiet. I’m thinking.” Yuji listened, falling silent while Sukuna contemplated his options. After a few moments, he had an idea. “Plum blossoms should suffice.”
Yuji’s face curled up in a confused grimace. “Plum blossoms?”
“That is what I said, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but…why?”
“Why I do anything is none of your concern.”
Yuji rolled his eyes, tired of Sukuna’s antics already, but seeing as the curse wouldn’t leave him alone until he was sure that you were satisfied, he caved. “Alright. But we might have a problem. I don’t think the flower shops sell those.”
Sukuna huffed, “Forget the flower shops, brat. Take me to a plum tree.”
* * *
“Bind the branches the way I told you,” Sukuna chided, watching as Yuji struggled to bind said branches into a bouquet–he was failing, miserably so. “Are you so incompetent that you cannot tie a simple knot? Do not tie it as you would a shoe–that’s tacky, tie it-”
“You know what,” Yuji began, tossing down the plum branches on the table, “If you want it done a certain way, you do it yourself-”
“What a perfect idea–if only someone had suggested it before you tangled the string. Oh, wait, I did. Switch with me.”
With his frustration easing up, naturally, Yuji hesitated to agree to his own offer. Sukuna might be focused on you at the moment, but he was still Sukuna.
“Promise you won’t do anything bad-”
“Yes, I promise,” he snapped, and waited a few moments for his vessel to loosen control enough to allow Sukuna to front in the body.
With the knotted ball of twine in his hands, he cursed Yuji’s name before getting to work untangling it, which took him far longer than he had anticipated.
Despite being caught up in the task at hand, Sukuna didn’t miss the shift of energy around him and didn’t need to even look up to know who was peering over his shoulder.
“Something I can help you with, Six Eyes?”
Gojo exhaled a laugh before rounding the table to take his place across from Sukuna. “Well, it seems like you’re busy, and I’d hate to push your focus onto something else that is far more destructive than… cherry blossoms?”
“Plum blossoms,” he corrected him with a huff. “And don’t worry. My destructive habits shall return shortly to entertain you all. Just as soon as my wife accepts my apology.”
“Hmm…” Gojo hummed, pulling down his blindfold to make sure he was seeing it all correctly. Sukuna’s eyes flicked to the other and held contact, narrowing in his direction. “Ryomen Sukuna can grovel? How interesting. Even more than the fact that you have a wife to begin with, which is very shocking. I thought you were too powerful for that.”
“First, your interests matter very little to me, and so do your useless assumptions, so keep them to yourself.” Sukuna’s eyes fell back to the bundle of blossoms in his hands as he began tying them up again. “Second, I'll have you know that strength and power have nothing to do with why I procured a wife.”
“So, why did you? Decide to settle down, I mean.”
He gave a pause before answering in total honesty. “We did not settle down–at least not the sense you’re referring to. She had been my companion since our childhood, so marrying her was the obvious next step. After all, she is the only one who truly understands my outlook on the world, and isn’t afraid to admit it, no matter how many self-righteous bastards, preaching about morals, she finds herself standing in front of.”
Gojo made another humming sound as he processed Sukuna’s words. “Does that mean she’s just as crazy as you?”
“Depends on your definition of crazy. While the woman would not hurt a fly, she is crazy enough to have an attitude with me. Even crazier to assume that I’ll cave in and create her a bouquet of flowers to make up for my wrongdoings. But what does that say about me, if I’m caving so willingly?”
Gojo clicked his tongue, smoothing his blindfold back over his eyes. “At least you can acknowledge that this is out of character for you.”
“Not entirely. But I wouldn’t expect you to know more than what you’ve been told by the masses–not that I mind the rumors. If the others knew I spent quite a bit of time binding flowers and erecting shrines in the name of a woman, I’d no doubt lose my reputation, which would be a detriment to her safety.”
“So, the bloodthirsty mannerisms are only a front to keep her safe?”
As Sukuna wrapped the last piece of twine around the bundle of sprigs, he chuckled, “Don’t sound so hopeful. Being feared has kept her out of harm's way, yes, but people feared me long before she became my wife. There’s a reason for that, and I don’t intend to change my ways. I only meant that there is an upside to being a monster.”
“Sounds to me like she’s a weakness of yours. What if someone like me decided to take her? To use her against you?"
“That would be your mistake. I’d kill you before you even had a chance. And you’ve no reason to touch her anyway. She’s too good.” Sukuna held the bouquet out to inspect it, spreading the stems to make it look fuller. “Now, the brat has mentioned that you’re a wealthy individual.”
“Has he?”
“He has.” Sukuna stood from his chair, flowers in one hand, while extending his other to Gojo. “I’ll require extra money to purchase a few gifts for my wife.”
A little confused, Gojo motioned toward the flowers. “What are those for then?”
“The woman has had a thousand years to be angry with me, and if you think flowers are enough to repent for my mistake, you are an idiot who has never interacted with a woman before in your life.”
“Ouch…” Begrudgingly, Gojo reached into his pocket to pull out a wallet while muttering, “I didn’t realize the Queen of Curses was materialistic.”
Sukuna snatched up the card with quick fingers. “I’ll return this to you shortly.”
He was only a few paces away before Gojo called out to him again, realizing that he basically gave Sukuna the chance to mingle with society without a babysitter. “Wait. You can’t go alone-”
“I believe I can manage without an escort. I’m a grown man.”
And Gojo was beside him again, peering down at him with an arrogant grin. “Technically, you’re not, and even if you were, I still can’t let you roam around in public on your own. Not in good conscience, anyway.” When Sukuna’s death glare didn’t let up, Gojo rolled his eyes. “If you want to buy her nice, expensive things, I can show you some places that you couldn’t get into on your own. My name has leeway, you know?”
* * *
“Um…” You frowned at the boy standing in the doorway of your apartment, eyes flicking to the bouquet he was holding out for you, then to the box he held under his other arm. “Yuji?”
He sighed, “They’re not from me. They’re from Sukuna.”
“I should hope so.” Still confused, you pulled the door open wider to lean against the archway. “But why are you giving them to me instead of him?”
“He’s scared-”
“That’s not true,” Sukuna argued through the mouth of his vessel’s cheek. “I was hoping to mitigate the chances of your anger.”
Your mouth curled into a grimace. “How unfortunate for you. No matter your form, I’m still angry.”
“But you will not take your anger out on the boy.”
You glanced at Yuji’s face, then back to Sukuna’s eye–he was right. You wouldn’t take out your anger on the boy, for he’d done nothing to you.
You scoffed, “Your cowardice is only making me angrier, you know?”
“As expected, but-”
“But nothing. I don’t want your gifts; I want an apology. From my husband, and only my husband. Do better, Ryomen, or stop trying. It’s pathetic.”
With that, you slammed the door, leaving your husband and his vessel in the hallway to stew in the awkward silence you’d left.
“Well…” Yuji began, trying his best to hold back his laughter. “What should I do with the gifts?”
Sukuna grunted, “Leave them in front of the door for her. She’ll like the kimono.”
Upon returning to the dorms, Gojo caught his student in the hallway.
“How’d it go?” he asked, already having a feeling that the ordeal had fared poorly, since Yuji looked so amused. However, before Yuji could answer, Sukuna did.
“She is still angry.”
“Shocker,” Gojo sarcastically replied, holding out his open palm for the card Sukuna had yet to give back to him after their impromptu shopping trip earlier in the day. “Better luck next-”
“Actually, I have another plan.” Sukuna’s interruption had Yuji groaning.
Gojo chuckled and motioned for the curse to continue. “What is it this time? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of building another shrine for her.”
Shamelessly and without hesitation, Sukuna said, “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”
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tag list : @shrewdreader
Husband!Sukuna has a soft spot for his wife. No matter how much you walk all over him, he just takes it, which is very concerning... to Yuji, at least.
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‘You’re a lousy vessel, and you watch terrible movies, and your entire life is so horribly tragic–it’s a travesty, really-’ Yuji rolled his eyes at the internal monologue of his parasitic fiend. Something seemed to have burrowed deeply under Sukuna’s skin that day, and the boy wasn’t sure what caused it. ‘At this point, if you died and took both of us out at once, I wouldn’t be all that upset.’
“What crawled up your ass today?” Yuji grumbled, navigating around the strangers passing him on the busy sidewalk. “You’re more annoying than usual.”
‘Can you be surprised? I’m restricted to the confines of your teenage mind, to hear you obsess over things I have no interest in.’
“I can’t say I’m too thrilled to share a body with you either. Because you don’t know how to shut up.”
‘Bite me. Unlike you, I’ve mastered the art of staying silent-’
“Really? Because you’re still talking-”
In the midst of their bickering, Yuji wasn’t paying attention to what was right in front of him–that being a woman who just stepped out of one of the shops that lined the sidewalk.
His shoulder bumped into yours, but he was met with zero resistance and was knocked back a few paces. Before he could rush to apologize, you beat him to it.
“Are you okay?” you asked, grabbing his arm to steady him.
He gulped back his embarrassment and nodded. “I’m fine. Sorry. I should’ve been paying attention.”
“It’s alright.” You smiled, offering his bicep a light pat. “Have a good day.”
“You, too,” he mumbled, moving to let you pass by him, and once you were out of earshot, he spoke to his parasite. “See what you made me do-”
‘Who was that?’ Sukuna asked abruptly, pushing forward in his vessel before Yuji could repress him. “That woman, who-”
“I don’t know,” the boy grumbled, pressing his hand over the mouth that formed on his cheek. “Can you just go away? You’ve embarrassed me enough-”
“No. Turn around.” Sukuna’s mouth formed on the back of the hand Yuji was holding to his cheek. “Follow her-”
“Are you crazy? I’m not doing that.”
“Brat, when I tell you that I’ll exterminate the entire human race if you do not follow her, I am not joking.”
“What the hell? You can’t just do that because I don’t want to follow behind a random woman like a creep! I could get arrested-”
“You will not scare her. I assure you.”
“How do you know that?”
* * *
A shadow crept over the outdoor cafe table you were sitting at. You looked up from your magazine, mid-sip of your drink, to see the oddly familiar-looking boy you ran into earlier. You didn’t want to put two and two together to acknowledge who the teen looked like, but it was hard not to when you were staring him right in the eyes.
Blushing warmth spread over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as he nervously looked down at you, fumbling over his words while you waited for him to gather his nervous thoughts and actually speak to you. After swallowing the mouthful of your drink, you placed the cup down and folded your magazine shut, leaning back in your chair, which only made him more nervous, as he now had your undivided attention.
“Hi,” he began, anxiously clearing his throat. “So, this might sound really weird, but I was wondering if you have a husband.”
You cocked a brow, watching the boy nearly melt into a puddle in front of you. “A husband?”
“Mhm, yes.”
With a pondering tilt of your head, you answered, “I’m flattered, but you are far too young for me, and I-”
His eyes widened as he rushed to exclaim, “No! That’s–I didn’t mean–not me! I just–I want to know if you have one. Currently.”
“No. I don’t.” Your manicured nails tapped along the top of the woodblock table, trying to find the cause for this boy’s curiosity in such a private matter.
As much as you tried not to compare this boy to your husband, you couldn’t help it. They looked quite similar, minus the difference in body structure. The boy even carried an energy output that almost mirrored your husband’s perfectly.
After acknowledging what you knew to be right in front of you, putting the pieces together for yourself was quite simple. Your deduction led you to believe that this might be your husband’s vessel for that stupid plan he mentioned to you all those years ago. And if that were the case, you weren’t too thrilled to see him in the moment.
“But I used to have a husband. Though he left me years ago for another woman, a concubine. He was a real man whore–super weak-willed, couldn’t control his urges to save his life-”
“That is not true!” an all too familiar voice rasped from the side of the boy’s face, answering your questions all at once. “I can control myself just fine-”
The move seemed instinctual as the boy slapped his hand over his cheek to cover the mouth that appeared there.
“Sorry, I-”
“It’s alright,” you snickered, waving him to sit in the chair across from you. “Am I right to assume you’re harboring him? Or is this some sort of possession-”
“I did not willingly choose this boy, woman,” Sukuna responded, appearing on the back of the boy’s hand. “Look at him. Scrawny and fragile. If I had a choice, I would have picked a much more suitable candidate to be my vessel-”
You quickly snapped, “I’m not talking to you,” which shut Sukuna up, leaving him to retreat inside the boy again. Once he was gone, you motioned for the boy to sit again and pulled your purse from the brick patio floor. You began to rummage around for some cash. “What do you want from the cafe-”
His eyes widened slightly before he began waving you off. “Oh, that’s alright-”
You pulled out a wad of cash and stood from your seat. “Hot chocolate good with you? Or maybe an iced drink, though it is a little cold outside today-”
“Really, I’m okay-”
“She’s not going to take no for an answer, brat,” Sukuna subtly mentioned, red eye flicking to you as you waited for the boy to give his order. “But if he won’t take you up on your offer, I wouldn’t mind ordering in his place.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Your tone was icy, but warmed when you regarded your husband’s vessel again. “I’m getting you hot chocolate. I hope that’s okay.”
He didn’t try to stop you again; he's still probably processing the situation. Even after you brought him the drink and a muffin, too, all he could manage was a quiet thank you.
You soaked up the awkwardness happily and asked, “How long have you been his vessel?”
Through a mouthful of food, he gave you his mumbled answer. “Just a few months.”
“And how is that faring for you? Is he troublesome?” When he opened his mouth to answer, he hesitated, drawing back into himself as if pondering something while zoning out. Then, he rolled his eyes- “Is he talking to you?”
His eyes focused back on you as he nodded. “Yeah. And to answer your other question, he is troublesome. Really annoying–and now he’s calling me a snitch.”
You exhaled a laugh as you leaned forward, resting your chin on your hands as you observed him. The resemblance was uncanny, though you could easily tell the difference–somewhere, the two of them were connected, you were sure of it.
“You haven’t figured out a way to suppress him completely?”
The boy perked up at your question. “Is there a way?”
You shrugged. “I don’t see why there wouldn’t be, though I’m sure it would be rather difficult. As annoying as he may be, he is strong. I assume it would only take practice-”
“I don’t appreciate you plotting against me, wife.”
Your smile fell as you regarded the eye and mouth that had grown on the boy’s cheek with a sneer.
“I don’t appreciate being abandoned for a thousand years-”
“I did not-”
“You did,” you interjected sharply. “So, if I choose to help your vessel suppress you, you will do nothing about it–we’re all aware that you’re the most intolerable little shit the world has ever created, living with you in such close quarters would be miserable.”
“We lived together for many, many years–you were not miserable.”
“That’s what you think. But I actually hated you-”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You may claim to hate me now, but you did not hate me back then. Do not lie.”
“Allow me to prove my hatred then.” You pushed back from the patio table, taking a stand that had both the boy and your husband looking a little panicked. “Switch with your vessel. We can settle this as we used to.”
“No,” he stubbornly replied. “No, I think I’ll stay in here.”
“Scared? You always were back then, too. It’s a shame to see that in a thousand years, you’re still without a backbone. It’s pathetic; embarrassing. I pity the poor boy that’s housing a lousy, weak, little curse like you.”
“He’s considered weak?” the boy asked, a look of bewilderment on his face.
“He is to me,” you answered, earning Sukuna’s scoff.
“Correction: I am weak for you. There is a difference, but one I will not be proving today.”
“Then there is no point in continuing this conversation.” You grabbed your bag from the ground, raising the strap over your shoulder. “It was nice to meet you…” You trailed off, prompting the boy for his name.
“Yuji.”
You smiled. “Okay, Yuji. If he gives you any real trouble, let me know.” After giving him your number to use for emergencies and a quick head pat, you made sure to also give your husband’s eye a harsh flick as you left the cafe area.
“Wow, Sukuna. You know, your wife is really nice-”
“That woman is the bane of my existence,” he grumbled, blinking excessively to rid his eye of the pain.
“I can’t wait to tell everyone the great Ryomen Sukuna has a soft spot for his wife.” Yuji gathered up the rest of his trash to dispose of before he, too, left the cafe area. “And that he’s scared of her-”
“I most certainly am not scared of my wife!”
Naturally, Yuji didn’t believe him in the slightest. The curse only groaned, retreating into his vessel to stew in his embarrassment.
That night, Yuji could feel Sukuna stirring around in his head, which kept the boy awake. It wasn’t until Yuji finally asked what his problem was that Sukuna came forth to voice it through the mouth on Yuji’s cheek.
“She is angry,” Sukuna stated flatly, irritated more than usual.
Seeing as he wasn’t going to get sleep any time soon, Yuji decided to entertain his parasite.
“You did leave her for a thousand years. I think her attitude was a given.”
“Do not remind me. I am well aware that I’ve made a mistake. And she made that clear when she flicked my eye.” Sukuna let out a deep sigh. “To rectify the situation, she will require gifts. To start, we'll need flowers.”
“Flowers?” The moment was a bit surreal for Yuji. Sukuna–the King of Curses–needing to buy flowers?
“Yes.” He sighed again. “She is such a pain, that woman.”
hi guys! this was an idea my bf got and some of u guys on today’s stream helped me with the prompts! there’s no deadline :3 You don’t have to draw one each day, this challenge is intended to make you draw once every 2 days! 16 days in total. However, you can do 5 per post or whatever you find comfortable! It’s your choice!
⚠️ This is an art challenge to interact with our small community, so remember to be respectful and also to have fun!! Feel free to tag me, I’d love to see what u make :3🩷
summary: due to the mutual, yet unspoken, feelings between you and Nick, you're both shy around each other.
w/c: 3.5k
(a/n: only got two more exams on monday and then im finally free! be expecting more fics soon 💘)
requested ✅
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The world around you blurred, threatening to fade to black. Pain that once stole your breath was now minimised to a dull throb in your side. This was it, you thought. This was how you died — here, alone in a forest, no one around for what was possibly miles. Having survived 2 years in an apocalypse, you’d always imagined you’d die in a much more honourable way, like saving a loved one. But there wasn’t anyone left to save.
You felt the dark void of nothingness pulling you under. That was when you heard it. There were two voices, one sounding like it belonged to a young southern man, and the other an older, more midwestern man. “Pete, look!” you heard the younger man say as his footsteps seemed to approach you. “They’re bleeding really bad…” and then unconsciousness stole your vision, hearing, and the remainder of your senses.
That’s all you remember from the day that Luke and Pete found you in that forest, bleeding out to your almost certain death. Yet, you didn’t die. They’d brought you back to the cabin, where Carlos managed to stitch and bandage you up, making sure your side wouldn’t ooze that horrible red liquid again. The group says you were out for a couple of days, which you wouldn’t know. To you, it’d felt like mere minutes.
Upon waking up from your slumber, you remember opening your eyes to find a man in the room with you. His black hair poked out messily from under his cap, light green eyes focused on you as you attempted to sit up. “Whoa, hey, easy,” the man said, quickly moving to your side as you winced and fell back against the pillow. His voice was soft, a little unsure, like he wasn’t used to caring for people. “Carlos said not to let you move around too much. Something about ‘stitches tearing’ and ‘bleeding out again.’ You know… cheerful stuff.”
You blinked at him, mind still foggy from painkillers and blood loss. “Wh… who…?”
“Oh. Right. Nick.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Nick.”
You let the name roll around in your mind, still swimming in confusion and the lingering fog of unconsciousness. Nick. It didn’t mean much to you then, but his voice did. Something about it grounded you, pulled you out of the dark and reminded you that you were, for now, still alive.
(Time Skip – a few weeks later)
Initially, you weren’t meant to stay with the group, only until you’d healed, but you managed to grow on them and they on you. So, you stayed, or at least for as long as this world would let you. Nick had been a little wary of you at first and you honestly couldn’t blame him. You could understand why. A complete stranger showing up in your home in the middle of an apocalypse wasn’t exactly cause for celebration. But over time, Nick’s tough edges seemed to soften.
You walked into the living room, finding Nick sharpening his knife. His head turned towards you, eyes trained on your face as you gave him a soft, shy smile, which he half-returned. You sat down on the sofa, opening your sketchbook to a fresh, clean page. Your pencil made contact with the paper but you simply couldn’t seem to focus on the drawing. Something, or rather someone, was shifting your attention.
You couldn’t help it. Nick just looked so good, focused, brow furrowed in concentration, the dull light from the nearby window catching the side of his face and the edge of his cap. You weren’t sure when that had started: the way your heart picked up when he was around, or how your stomach fluttered at the smallest things he said. You doubted he noticed.
He glanced up then, as if sensing your gaze. Your eyes met for a second too long before you both looked away at almost the exact same time. How smooth.
Before you could fill the silence with small talk, you felt an elbow nudge you, Luke’s teasing voice reaching your ears. “Careful. Nick might just faint if you smile at him again,” he commented, making sure Nick heard every word.
You shot Luke a glare, lighthearted but warning nonetheless. Nick just groaned, then muttered something about “minding your own damn business.” His face turned a faint pink hue before he stomped off to check the perimeter. You watched him walk away, trying to hide the smile on your face that you knew Luke would just tease you even more for.
That afternoon, the cabin was quieter than usual. Luke was off doing a supply run with Pete, and the rest of the group were spread thin between patrol shifts and chores. You had just finished sweeping the back porch, enjoying the sunlight beaming down, when you heard it. ‘It’ being a low, guttural growl in the distance. Then another.
You froze. “Nick?” you called softly, gripping the broom a little tighter.
No answer.
Then, a rustle in the bushes. The crack of a branch. The groan of something very, very not-human. Your instincts kicked in faster than fear. You dropped the broom, sprinted inside, and grabbed a gun on a nearby table.
By the time you made it back outside, the walker had emerged from the tree line, arms reaching out like it already had a hold of you in its rotting imagination. You didn’t hesitate. You breathed in, focused, and pulled the trigger.
Click.
Nothing happened. You pulled the trigger again and the same thing happened once again. The gun was jammed.
“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, already feeling your breathing start to quicken. Your eyes darted between the gun you held in your shaking hands and the walker approaching, its feet dragging across the ground.
You couldn’t afford to freeze now, so you fumbled with the gun, removing the magazine and racking the slide a few times. The jammed round quickly fell out, clattering across the floor before falling off the porch. You reinserted the magazine and racked the slide, pointing the gun right at the walker. It dropped instantly, skull cleanly pierced. The sharp, sudden sound echoed through the air.
“Holy shit!” someone called from your left.
You spun and saw Nick bounding around the side of the cabin, gun in hand, panic in his eyes. He slowed when he saw the walker, dead, and then you, still standing there, slightly breathless but unharmed.
“You okay?” he asked quickly, voice tight.
“I’m fine,” you nodded, lowering your rifle. “Just one of them. Got lucky with the shot.”
Nick walked closer, eyes scanning the treeline. “That wasn’t luck,” he muttered, glancing at the walker’s body, then at your hands still wrapped around the rifle. “That was a perfect shot.”
You felt warmth bloom in your chest. He sounded almost… impressed?
You laughed, nervous and small. “Guess I had a good teacher.”
He blinked at you. “I… I never taught you to shoot.”
“Oh. Right,” you said, adjusting your grip on the gun. “Then… uh… guess I just pay attention when you talk about it.”
The corner of Nick’s mouth twitched up. “Huh.”
You both stood there for a moment too long, again, silent and buzzing with adrenaline. Nick shifted on his feet, opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it again. His cheeks were still pink from the run, or maybe it was something else.
Night came, and the cabin was almost completely quiet. You tossed and turned in bed, wrapped in the threadbare blanket, but all your attempts at sleep were to no avail. With a slight groan of frustration, you sat up and silently left the room, careful not to wake anyone else. Hopefully, the night air would be enough to help you finally fall asleep.
You stepped onto the porch, the door not fully shutting behind you in order to not make too much noise. When you noticed Nick sitting on the stairs, you couldn't help but jump just a little. You hadn’t expected anyone else out here at this time. Not wanting to intrude, you turned back around, about to leave; however, it was too late. Nick had already noticed you. “Can’t sleep?” he asked softly, voice low so he didn't wake the others.
You shook your head and took the opportunity to sit beside him on the steps. This time, the silence wasn’t so awkward. It was actually rather… nice.
Nick turned to you, looking sideways, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You scared of the dark or just the walkers?” His eyes searched yours, though you weren’t sure what for.
Those same eyes drew you in — he had eyes like the fields after a sweet summer rain, eyes that somehow managed to be calming yet mysterious at the same time. God, you really could never get tired of looking into his eyes. Then, you heard him clear his throat as you realised you’d never actually answered his question.
You blinked, heat rising to your cheeks, and gave a small, sheepish shrug. “Little bit of both, maybe,” you admitted, your voice barely louder than the breeze. “Everything just feels louder at night. Thoughts, too.”
Nick nodded slowly, rubbing his hands together like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Yeah. I get that.”
The two of you sat like that for a minute, the silence now filled with the soft chirp of crickets and the distant rustling of leaves. The moonlight bathed the porch in a silvery glow, and when you glanced at Nick, you caught him sneaking a look at you, too.
You both looked away. Again. It was honestly pathetic. Cute, but pathetic regardless.
Tentatively, you scooted closer to Nick, knee almost brushing his. Nick didn’t pull away like you’d expected he might. Before you could suppress it, a shiver ran through you, which didn’t go unnoticed by Nick. You seriously hated this cold. It had been so warm this afternoon, so why was it literally freezing now?
The chill settled somewhere in your chest as you tugged your arms around yourself, the action doing little to give you any sort of warmth. Without even really thinking, Nick peeled off the hoodie, his shirt lifting up a little. Just enough to show a sliver of his happy trail, which you definitely did not stare at, not for more than a second, anyway. He held the hoodie out toward you, gaze still focused just off to the side, like handing you a hoodie was the most complicated emotional action a person could possibly undertake.
“Here,” he mumbled, not quite meeting your eyes. “You’ll, uh… get sick or something.”
You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Are you sure? You’ll be cold.”
He shrugged. “I’m fine.”
You hesitated, then reached out and took it from him, fingers brushing his in the exchange. A little spark danced up your spine at the contact, which you really hoped he didn’t notice. Judging by how he suddenly looked the other way and rubbed the back of his neck, maybe he did.
“Thanks,” you said softly, slipping the hoodie on. It was warm, still holding a bit of his body heat, and smelled faintly like him: woodsmoke and something earthy. The sleeves were a little long on you. You hugged them to your chest.
Nick stole a glance at you, clearly trying to play it cool and failing adorably. “Looks better on you anyway.”
Your heart stumbled over itself, breath catching a little, his words echoing louder than they probably should have. You ducked your head, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just saying that.”
Nick shook his head, and for once, didn’t immediately look away. “No, I mean it.” His voice was quieter now, more certain. “It… it really does.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. Your mouth opened like it might try, but all that came out was a soft, awkward laugh, one that somehow made Nick smile even more. The kind of smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, just slightly. You’d seen that smile only a few times before, and each time it stuck in your memory like a photograph.
The hoodie wrapped around you was oversized, warm, and slightly worn at the sleeves, kind of like Nick himself. You shifted a little closer, daring just a few inches more, until your shoulders brushed. He noticed, and you felt him freeze, then relax a second later, like maybe he wasn’t sure what was happening or if he was allowed to enjoy it. But he didn’t move away.
The wind blew softly through the trees, the night sky stretching endlessly above you both. And for a minute, it felt like you weren’t in the middle of an apocalypse. You were just two people sitting on a porch under the stars, trying to pretend like it was all normal.
You didn’t mean to fall asleep, though you still drifted off slowly, the scent of pine and smoke in Nick’s hoodie grounding you. Your head tipped, coming to rest gently against his shoulder. Nick stiffened at first, not because he didn’t want it, but rather because he didn’t know what to do with something so tender. Your breath was slow, steady, tickling the fabric of his shirt with each exhale. You were asleep on him.
He swallowed, heart beating much louder than it should’ve been. He should’ve woken you, maybe nudged you gently or whispered your name. Instead, he just stayed, sat there with you, unmoving, afraid that even a breath too loud would break this fragile little moment the universe had handed him.
Eventually, after what felt like ages, he let his arm move. Slow and unsure, like he was afraid the porch itself might judge him. He draped it behind you, fingers brushing your back. He didn't pull you in, not fully — he didn’t dare — but the closeness felt electric anyway, like some part of him had finally allowed itself to hope.
The next morning, you woke slowly, blinking against the pale light peeking through your window. Wait, your window? When did you get to your room? The last thing you remembered was sitting with Nick on the porch, so how on what was left of God’s green earth did you end up back here?
You sat up slowly, heart still fogged with sleep and the remnants of that memory. Nick's hoodie was still draped around your shoulders. You pressed your face into the collar for a second, inhaling what was left of the night before, then glanced down. Your boots were off. Blanket tucked neatly around you. And the hoodie? Still here.
Nick.
You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and paused. Your chest buzzed, not quite anxiety, not quite giddiness. Something in between. Something soft and heavy and a little breathless. Had he really taken you all the way back to your room? At the mere thought of the gesture, warmth seemed to spread somewhere deep in your stomach.
After pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself, you quietly made your way downstairs. Nick was at the kitchen table, hunched over a tin of peaches, frowning. His cap was off (very rare), his hair a little mussed, and his fingers tapped anxiously against the table’s edge. He didn’t look up at first, not until you cleared your throat.
When he finally did, his eyes flicked to yours, then to the hoodie still wrapped around you, then very quickly back to the peaches. “Hey,” he mumbled.
“Hey,” you echoed, suddenly unsure where to put your hands. You settled for fiddling with the hem of the sleeve, a nervous habit you thought you’d outgrown. “Did… did you carry me back to my room last night?”
Nick scratched the back of his neck once again. “Yeah. You were out cold. Figured it was better than letting you wake up with a sore neck on the porch.”
“Oh.” You paused. “Thanks.”
“Wasn’t a big deal,” he replied quickly, too quickly, maybe like it had been a big deal to him and he just didn’t know how to say it.
About to comment on his somewhat-more-odd-than-usual behaviour, you heard Pete’s voice ring out from the living room. You turned as Nick’s uncle called your name, sighing quietly to yourself. You hadn’t wanted to end this moment with Nick so early, but it appears you’ve been left with no choice.
Nick noticed the way you almost freeze, torn between going to see what Pete wants and staying here with Nick. He felt his heart skip a beat. He wanted you to stay, he wanted to spend more time with you, he wanted to hear your melodic voice, but he knew better. “Guess you better go see what he wants,” Nick said, his voice quieter now, not quite meeting your eyes again.
You nodded, hesitating just a moment longer, your fingers still playing with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Yeah… I’ll be right back.”
You gave him a small smile and then you turned, footsteps soft on the wooden floorboards as you left the kitchen. Nick watched you go, expression unreadable at first. But the moment you were out of sight, a smile slowly tugged at the corner of his mouth, subtle, fleeting, yet genuine.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaled, and stared down at the tin of peaches like it held the answer to everything he was feeling. It didn’t, of course. Right then, in that moment, nothing really made sense. Not the apocalypse, not the fact that he cared this much, and definitely not how you’d managed to quietly wedge yourself into a part of his world he thought had long since shut down.
In the kitchen, Pete held up a jacket in his hands. “Me and Luke found it when we were out yesterday. Looks about your size. You want it?” He asked, eyes flicking from you to the jacket.
You looked at it — it was a deep-red leather jacket, slightly worn away by time, with a silver zipper and spread collar. Your lips pressed together in thought, brows subtly furrowing. It was a nice jacket, but surely someone else needed it more than you did? Maybe Rebecca, or even Sarah.
You let your hand run along the jacket’s sleeve, your fingers brushing against the cool leather as you considered it.
Pete raised an eyebrow at your hesitation. “Go on, kid. We picked it up thinking of you anyway. Luke said you’d look badass in it.”
You gave a soft snort at that, glancing toward the door behind you, toward the kitchen where Nick still sat. Then, back at Pete, who was watching you like he knew exactly what you were thinking. You pulled the jacket closer and gave a small nod.
“Okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than intended. “Thanks, Pete.”
He smiled, a proud sort of smile only someone like Pete could manage, gruff but warm. “Anytime.”
You slipped out of Nick’s hoodie and put the jacket on. It was heavier than Nick’s hoodie, but it fit like it was meant for you. The leather creaked slightly with your movements, the sleeves a little long but not in a bad way. You tugged the zipper halfway up and gave Pete a grateful look.
When you returned to the kitchen, Nick glanced up again. His gaze landed on the jacket, and something flickered behind his eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, and you raised a brow, both amused and curious.
“What?” you asked, arms slightly out to your sides, showing it off. “Too much?”
“No!” Nick responded a little too quickly, a little too loudly, and he visibly winced as he caught himself. “Uh- I mean, no. That colour looks good on you. Not that you didn’t look good before. I mean- not like that, I just… yeah.” He opted for shutting up, groaning into his hands, which had come up to cover his face.
Your nose crinkled as you let out a small chuckle, finding Nick’s attempt at a compliment rather endearing. Normally, Nick would’ve done anything to hear that gentle, soothing sound, but maybe not at the expense of his own dignity.
“Well, thanks, Nick.” Your chuckle faded into a warm smile, cheeks suddenly turning a faint pink hue.
Nick just gave a curt nod, peeling his hands from his face, still averting his gaze anywhere but you. The kitchen table suddenly began to look remarkably interesting to Nick, who felt the urge to say something else, but came up short. He wanted to tell you how he felt, how he had let himself fall in love with you, yet he couldn’t.
“I-” he started, then faltered. The words were right there, but they clung to the back of his throat.
Maybe he never would confess. Maybe this dance between the two of you would continue for the rest of time.
Me reading old ATSV / ITSV fanfics and watching the edits I saved in my camera roll of my hot wookie poos, knowing that i wont get any new ones until the next movie comes out 💔
Can we please have more Miles morales 42 with little sister reader ? (13 years old) Maybe some angsty headcanons where instead of his dad dying, his sister is the one who actually dies in his universe ?
[ATSV] Miles 42! & Dead! Reader
Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT, Death
A/N: Never in my life have I thought that someone would request sonic exe... BUT HEY WHATEVER YOU LIKE LETS GO the gender is not specified
Summary: Miles 42 is sister died instead of his dad... but oho I got something better both of them dying sorry it might be short I have one more day then im free from school and im on summer holidays Sorry its REALLY SHORTTT
Miles stared eyes shaky he never understood people when they said their world went quiet... but now he does. he understood now that he didn't have the familiar voice of his younger sister running around annoying him, pestering him, bothering her older brother to eat with her when he wouldn't leave his room he understood now that there was nothing to fill his world with.
Rio frowned at miles who was staring at the coffins of not only his father but of the young girl beside him in a separate coffin with a bouquet of favorite flowers. When Rio and Miles heard that when You and Jeff were in the situation you wouldn't stop crying gripping onto your dad hugging him as he protected you from the particular explosion that caused your deaths from trying not only to protect the city but for his family most of all his daughter and son.
The burnt scars on your body your face pale and dull eyes shut with makeup that complimented your face even though your older brother said you always looked like shit he felt shitter when he couldn't have complimented you before you died. Rio was beside him holding miles close as she stared at Jeff's corpse then yours. One thing known was that what was one of the worst things to see was a grieving mother and miles knew you would never live it down even in the after life if he didn't let rio cry with him or he didn't even cry at all since you always told him off to be able to express himself.
Rio saw miles gripping the coffin edges with a blank face yet his eyes had a familiar glisten in his eyes "Come on miles... lets say goodbye okay?" she whispered an hand on his shoulder as Miles spoke "whats the point-" "Miles" Miles kept quiet staring at the faces of his dad and his younger sister "Sometimes we say goodbye because the next hello will never come in this lifetime so.. let's-" her voice started going shaky as Miles spoke "Okay" as they both bid their farewells at the coffins as Rio couldn't help but break down a couple minutes later when burying them as Miles had to try console his mother the best way he could as uncle aaron helped rio up and lend a shoulder.
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