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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Peter Solarz
KIROKAZE
we're not kids anymore.
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if i look back, i am lost
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titsay
One Nice Bug Per Day
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@libraryofnini
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☾ nini | 22 | she/they
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The Logistics of Falling in Love (Varka x Reader)
A/N: I think sometimes my brain naturally gravitates toward Varka whenever I need something grounding again. I felt a bit stuck in my own thoughts lately, so writing this ended up untangling my brain more than I expected.
Also yes, this is another case of me disappearing into unexpected Varka missing hours. Some things never change. :D Hope you’ll enjoy! :) 💙
Tags: Fluff. Mutual Pining. Shy Reader. Reader Still Makes Advances. Knights of Favonius Reader (Logistics). Soft Varka. Handwritten Notes. Light Humor. Tiny Acts of Care. Reader Is Down Bad. Varka Is Oblivious Until He’s Not. Gentle Romance.
Word count: 2190
⋆ ✦ ⋆
The first time Varka speaks to you properly, you’re halfway inside a supply shelf.
One arm is buried behind a stack of crates while you glare into darkness with the concentrated fury of someone who has absolutely put an inventory ledger somewhere sensible and is now being punished for their own optimism.
“It was here,” you mutter. “I know it was here.”
A deep voice behind you says, amused: “Should I ask what crime that shelf committed?”
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ special delivery!
genshin men: when they send you flowers without their name & so you assume its from someone else
characters included: Alhaitham, Childe, Cyno, Dahlia, Diluc, Flins, Heizou, Illuga, Kaveh, Lohen, Sethos, Tighnari, Varka, Wanderer, Wriothesley
warnings!! suggestive content ahead (?)
chuu's note: okayyy m going back into hibernation mode! (2 posts in 1 day?!!?? WHO HAS POSSESSED CHUU?!)
HEAVEN CAN WAIT ──── MYDEI
৻ꪆ i don’t know what i’d do if i can’t be with you, in the halls of the xianzhou palace hangs a captivating portrait of a young woman. it has become the bane of your existence, and yet, from it emerges your only light.
this is a miniseries, estimated to be three parts in total. if you are interested in being tagged, please comment or send an ask, and make sure i am able to tag you.
series tag is [ @ 𝐘𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐒 ★ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 ] in case any parts do not get linked properly.
tags ───────── mydei x reader & (minor) jing yuan x reader, royal au, attempt at slowburn, not canon compliant. this series will contain angst, violence, major character death ; xianzhou alliance is called the xianzhou empire ; jing yuan is heavily ooc for story purposes only.
𝟏. still so close, yet so far . . . three chrysos heirs arrive in the xianzhou empire proposing an alliance. amongst them, is lord mydeimos, a man with immortality but not immune to what begins to change in him. word count: 3.8k words.
𝟐. coming soon . . .
𝟑. coming soon . . .
notes. i’ve had this idea for so long, and i wasn’t going to write it because i didn’t know how to get it down on a doc. then after a long yap session with my pet axolotl (@aquatik), i successfully managed to write it 😼 <3 now, i want to say this is going to be three parts, but i think it might be a little longer than that, so i went ahead and made a material list. let’s see how this goes !!
HEAVEN CAN WAIT ──── MYDEI
this is a miniseries, estimated to be three parts in total. if you are interested in being tagged, please comment or send an ask, and make sure i am able to tag you.
series tag is [ @ 𝐘𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐒 ★ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 ] in case any parts do not get linked properly.
still so close, yet so far . . . summary ❞ three chrysos heirs arrive in the xianzhou empire proposing an alliance. amongst them, is lord mydeimos, a man with immortality but not immune to what begins to change in him. word count: 3.8k
tags ───────── mydei x reader & (minor) jing yuan x reader, royal au, attempt at slowburn, not canon compliant. this series will contain angst, violence, major character death ; xianzhou alliance is called the xianzhou empire ; jing yuan is heavily ooc for story purposes only.
You stand before a large painting of a young woman. She is dressed in an extravagant red gown. Her hair had been meticulously styled to represent her high status. The pins in her hair have charms dangling from the ends. It is the symbol of the Xianzhou Empire. Her hands are placed on her lap with her left on top to display a beautiful engagement ring.
She is stunning. The artist had captured her details so perfectly, forever in precise strokes and vibrant paint. Many who walk down this very hallway have to stop and look in awe at this creation. Unable to touch it, they can only move closer to the portrait and examine the flow of the brush.
You, on the other hand, can only stare at the painting with disdain. It is not towards the woman, for she is not the one at fault. The disdain is for the story behind how this painting came to be and how it was hung in this very spot.
╰ MY FIANCÉ / LOHEN ⟢
SYNOPSIS: after numerous failed arranged marriages set up by your parents, you thought the one with the vice-captain would follow the same pattern. you're proven wrong when he subverts what an expected greeting should be given.
𖥔 WORDCOUNT: 3.3k (pls give it a chance...) ┆ 𖥔 TAGS. @millurie @axolotsofluv @tragedy-of-commons @al97649 @bisouyuo @aritsukemo -> come join the taglist here!
𖥔 WARNINGS: mentions of beer and drinking, reader is from snezhnaya and has a dendro vision, reader also has lowkey/implied mommy issues, mentions blood and a wound, arrange marriages obv, cameo for varka, ragbros, jean, lisa, and albedo; not fully proofread; expect mistakes!
♪ FINAL NOTES .ᐟ this one is for my fav lohen kissers ari and yuomi 🤍🤍i genuinely didn't expect for this to b this long but oh well. art credits: @.su3ka_ on x!
"you are to be wedded to the vice-captain of the fifth company."
that's how it all began — a simple dinner with your parents as they dropped the bomb of your new marriage candidate. you tried your best not to appear vexed. keyword: tried. but unlike you're ever admirable cousin, jean, your face gave away more than your words ever could.
your brow twitched, the small fork in your hand clattered to the porcelain plate. your mother threw a disapproving glare, while your father coughed into his fist. "now, [name], my dear—"
"don't "my dear" me, father." you bark out, "what happened to giving up on setting me up for another failing marriage."
"you haven't even met the vice-captain," he argued.
★ Trinkets keep arriving at your window-sill each morning, and Verr Goldet won't take your concerns of a 'pest' terrorising the inn seriously no matter what you do.
On a completely unrelated note, Xiao seems to like it when he sees you wearing them.
It starts off with a flower.
Qinxing, to be exact. It's left upon your windowsill, the petals full and plump, fresh with morning dew. You run your fingers over the delicate stem, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes so you can properly appreciate the sight.
LET THE WORLD BURN - G.S.
Synopsis. Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. You knew of Geto Suguru before he was the Fire Lord responsible for tearing apart the nations, you knew of Geto Suguru before his name was soaked in rage and dragged through battle: the banished prince with a sad smile. You knew of Geto Suguru because…you were his first love. And his only. And now you’re arranged to marry him. But it’s not a ceremony of love; you want revenge—and Geto carnally needs you.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!Waterbender!reader, Firebender!Geto, Avatar: The Last Airbender AU, Fire Nation prince!Geto, past, best friends once, school shenanigans, fortune tellers, PLOT letters, hurt and comfort, poIitical schemes, Naoya gets what he deserves, Fire Lord!Geto, water generaI!reader, sIight enemies-to-Iovers, best friends-to-Iovers, getting together, arranged marriages, poIitical marriages, peace, wedding nights, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Geto, spítting, p sIapping, fíngering, Geto’s LONG tongue, lNNAPROPRlATE USE OF BENDING POWERS, impact pIay, sIight knifepIay(?), just sorta holding it to his throat, dilemmas, tension, he’s DESPERATE, matíng presses, manhandIing, confessions, REALLY gone Geto, p talking, cIit pinching, teasing, sIight praise and degrad, powers going out of control, creampíes, cúmpIay, sIight cúmfIation, HAPPY ENDING, vioIence and bIood, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.0k
A/N. AAAAAAAAAND look where those Zuko scenes get us smh- based on my Fire Lord!Geto headcanon here <3
“There is someone in your heart.”
For the first time since entering Lady Tsukumo’s quarters; you’re alert. The room is oblong and alluring—it wore its candles around the perimeter like jewellery, and swathed itself in a scarf of smoke. The saturated smell of jasmine clung to the air, and you have to shake your head just to focus on the woman before you.
Here, on Mount Inferno, there isn’t much to look forward to.
The Fortune Teller’s hut drew you in like a mistress, and told you things just as rousing.
Orange candles leak. Prayer beads rattle. Dissolute shadows dance to an inaudible tune, then creep closer towards you in search of touch. She closes her eyes and whispers to her spirits—around you, the thick smoke screen writhes like a snake. It coils like an ouroboros.
Almost wrapping around your ankles- keeping you in one place.
As a smile spreads across her handsome face. “You love him, do you not?”
You feel splashed with cold water.
“I…”
Uncle Iroh is incredibly fond of you and actively searches for you during the day so you can spend time together.
You don't mind this at all, you adore your uncle-in-law who's more like a father to you, just like he is to Zuko. So whenever Iroh invites you to do anything, you're already following him, both of you walking side by side as you talk happily.
Zuko loves this; he loves that his uncle has taken you as his own and treats you like a daughter. It was something he never really worried about—you and Iroh are easy to love with your sunshine-y personalities so you two being the best of friends is a surprise to no one.
But.
He does have one complaint which is that Iroh may be taking up too much of your time.
Zuko understands that he's busy with Fire Lord duties and often has to fight for free time. But when he does get that free time, you're not there to spend it with him. You're off into town with Iroh to see a play or visiting an animal sanctuary to see the platypus bears.
Which is fine, it's great!
He's happy that he's two most favourite people in the world are getting along so well!
But.
He misses you.
So in a ploy to win back some of your time, he uses his Fire Lord powers to grant himself a day off. Yes, his Grand Chamberlain throws a tantrum but Zuko believes he deserves to spend uninterrupted time with his wife.
The next morning rolls around and Zuko wakes up to you staring at him, puzzled, in the nestle of his arms. He smiles sleepily at you and you smile back, amused when he comes in to nuzzle at your sleep-warm cheek.
"You're still in bed," you point out.
"Yep," Zuko says, his lips softly dragging over your skin.
"And no one has knocked on our doors yet."
"I've noticed."
You don't say anything for a second.
"...You took the day off, didn't you?"
Zuko smiles. "I did."
You pull back a little, your hands coming up to cup his face. He leans into your touch, eyes slipping closed.
"Your Grand Chamberlain was furious, wasn't he?"
"Yep." He turns his head into your left hand so he can kiss your palm. "But it doesn't matter because I'm the Fire Lord so tough."
You snort and when he opens his eyes, he greeted by the beautiful sight of you grinning.
"The power's finally gone to your head," you tease and Zuko finds that he wouldn't mind if it did if it meant he got to spend more time with you.
Later in the day, when having tea with Iroh, you excuse yourself to the washrooms, leaving Zuko and Iroh to chat between themselves.
"It's good to see you finally take some time for yourself, Zuko," Iroh says, sipping at his tea and Zuko smiles.
"I needed it," he admits. "It was getting to a point where I wasn't able to spend enough time with her and I didn't like that." He then gives his uncle a look. "Plus with you occupying her attention every second, it was hard to get my wife for myself."
Iroh takes another sip of his tea. "Why do you think I took up most of her time, then?" He grins widely. "She was bored, you needed the rest and you missed each other immensely."
Zuko blinks, his brow furrowing before his eyes widen comically.
"You set this up!" He accuses loudly and Iroh hides his grin into his tea.
"And you're forever predictable, my nephew."
When you come back, you're greeted to the sight of a still shocked Zuko and a very amused Iroh.
THE WAY TO A MAN’S HEART
—is through his stomach.
⟢ features: ashveil x gn!reader, fluff, domestic fluff, food as love language, indirect kiss (it’s not important to the fic but i just thought to add it anyway LOL), not proofread
⟢ word count: 4,668
⟢ note: this is my contribution for this month ueueueue ,,,, i haven’t done the 4.1 quest yet btw so if things don’t align with the canon, then oopsies! but i’ve seen ashveil’s in game messages (specifically the one where mr. n told the trailblazer about ashveil’s eating habits!) a lot on x so this inspired me to create this fic. enjoy!!
⟢ also on: ao3
Livestreamer Kinich! Who always end his live whenever it’s dinner time
: modern au! Fluff! Loverboy kinich! No beta we all die like men
same universe as this: Livestreamer Kinich! Who always talk about his wife
Masterlist
The kitchen smelled warm and comforting—simple food, but made with care. Steam curled softly from the dishes you’d just set on the table, and the quiet clink of plates filled the space as you arranged everything neatly. It wasn’t anything extravagant tonight, just something easy, something familiar. The kind of meal that made coming home feel complete.
From the other room, you could faintly hear Kinich’s voice through the wall—animated, lively, completely different from the calm atmosphere you were building here.
“Alright, guys, this is my last game for today,” he said, his tone still energetic but softer now, like he was already halfway out the door. “My wife and I are about to eat dinner.”
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at that.
There was a pause, followed by a quiet chuckle.
“Thanks for watching the stream. I’ll tell her you all said hello.”
You could practically imagine the chaos exploding in his chat. It happened every time.
xxx: he’s so soft ong
zzz: happy wife happy life
yyy: THATS OUR WIFE NOW
His laughter grew a little louder, more genuine now.
“Our wife, huh?” he repeated, amused. “Well, our wife cooked dinner for me, so I’m ending this stream now.”
“Goodnight, guys.”he said one last time
Click.
A few seconds later, the door to the streaming room opened.
You glanced up just as Kinich stepped into the dining area, stretching his arms slightly above his head. His posture relaxed instantly the moment he saw you—his shoulders dropping, the sharp focus from streaming melting into something softer.
“How was the stream?” you asked, placing the last dish on the table.
He walked over, a grin already forming. “Apparently, they’ve decided you belong to all of them now.”
You raised an eyebrow, feigning seriousness. “Oh? Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.” He pulled out a chair but didn’t sit just yet, leaning slightly against the table instead, watching you. “Too bad for them,” he added, tilting his head with a playful smirk, “you’re already married to me.”
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “They’re going to bully you about that tomorrow.”
“They already do,” he replied, finally sitting down. “I’ve accepted my fate.”
You took your seat across from him, and for a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other. Kinich reached for his utensils but paused, glancing at the food. “This looks really good,” he said, quieter now, more sincere. His eyes flicked back to you, soft. “You didn’t have to cook early just because of tomorrow.”
“I wanted to,” you replied simply. “Besides, if we sleep late again, we’re going to regret it.”
He huffed lightly in agreement. “True.”
Dinner passed easily—conversation flowing from one topic to another without effort. Plans for tomorrow, random stories from his stream, little complaints about your cat stealing food again and the dog pretending innocence.
At one point, Kinich leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you as you talked. There was a faint smile on his lips, the kind he didn’t even seem aware of.
“You know,” you said after a while, setting your utensils down, “you don’t have to end your stream every time it’s dinner. I can always bring your food to your room.”
He blinked, caught off guard by that. Then his expression softened almost immediately.
“I know,” he said.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his arm on the table, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the surface.
“But I want to eat with you.” His voice was quieter now, steady but warm.
“I don’t like the idea of you eating alone while I’m in there talking to a screen.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but he continued, a little more casually this time, though the sincerity didn’t fade.
“And besides,” he added with a small shrug, “if I don’t end the stream, they’ll just keep spamming about you anyway.”
That earned a laugh from you.
“They already do.”
“Exactly.” He smiled, a little amused, a little helpless. “At least this way, I leave on my own terms.” You shook your head, but your expression softened.
“Your viewers have figured you out,” you said. “They know exactly when dinner’s ready.”
“Yeah,” he sighed dramatically, leaning back again. “The moment I say ‘last game,’ the chat goes insane.”
“‘Lover boy Kinich,’ right?”
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t remind me.”
You laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too, the sound quieter now compared to his streaming voice—more real.
After a moment, his gaze settled on you again. Calm. Content.
“Still,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I’d rather be here.”
The room fell into a comfortable silence after that, filled only by the soft sounds of dinner and the quiet presence you shared.
And somewhere out there, his viewers were probably already waiting for tomorrow—ready to tease him all over again the moment he said those familiar words.
—————————————————————————
note: sorry guys for not posting for two days, ive been doing my report and it keep me occupied. Anyways here is another livestreamer kinich!!!! Thank you for following me🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
BURNING CRIMSON
✎⠀⠀pairing ⦂ fire lord! zuko x wife!reader | soft angst with a pure fluff ending.
࿐ synopsis ⦂ you could wear the crown and speak the right words and smile at all the right moments; and still find yourself alone in a garden, wondering if loving the fire lord was ever supposed to feel this much like disappearing.
masterlist . . . . . ↷
they dressed you in red and gold the way they'd dress a weapon before it's presented, with a manner that had nothing to do with what you want.
you stood very still while the handmaidens work. the robes were heavy, though the pins for your hair were even heavier. a headpiece was placed at your crown, while you admired the making of you becoming someone you didn't quite recognize, in the bronze mirror.
...fire lady... the title rested in your chest, bright enough with status, but never truly feeling like it belonged to you.
ZUKO appeared in the threshold behind your reflection. he was already dressed for this kind of life... the attire of statecraft suited him differently than it once did. you can see it in the way he carried the weight of the crown with admirably acceptable that this was where he was meant to be.
his eye found yours in the mirror. "are you done here?"
for a second, you thought of honesty... of the hundred courtiers waiting beyond the doors... the ministers with their assessments in their eyes... the way every room in this palace seemed to judge you. but amongst all that worry, you still thought about how much you love him, and how that love taught you to give in to the life that was offered with him...
"yes!"
the banquet was a perfection of performance.
you smiled when you were meant to. zuko sat to your left and managed the table of highborns like he had made peace with being looked at. you watched him from the corner of your eye... he was so good at this. how was he so good at this.
you weren't any good at it...
that you knew, the moment LADY SHAN, wife to one of zuko's senior generals, asked you what you make of the proposed trade with the earth kingdom... an easy question to anybody. you opened your mouth, and the only honest answer in your tired mind, was... I haven't been spoken to, on it properly and I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing... but, you decided to let it go with carefully dragged out words that probably meant nothing to her. you held your breath as she gave a polite smile and kept on.
when the final course arrived, you were so far behind your own eyes that the candlelights were speaking to you. you smiled for the last time, waiting for it to be over.
you were trying to even out your breathing when you heard his footsteps. zuko found you perched on the garden's bench, overgrown compared to the formal ones near the audience chambers... no one has been here in years.
"you left..." he brought up, attention shared between your abandoned headpiece beside you, your unheld up hair... and finally, the way you were sitting, shoulders down, face tilted up to the midnight sky.
"I needed air."
"I know." he came to sit by your side, close in silent comfort. "I saw your face during the shan conversation."
your eyes flutter shut for a second too long. "was it obvious?"
"to me." he spoke in hushed tones. "not to her."
you glanced down at the folded hands in your lap, still wrapped in red silk. "I don't know what I'm doing in there, zuko. I know how to be... I know who I am. I know that. but I don't know how to be that in there, in that room, with all of them watching me decide what words to say before I say them." you exhaled. "I don't know how to be your fire lady in a room that already has an opinion about what your fire lady should look like."
zuko stayed quiet for long enough, that you just had to face him. his profile, in the dim light, was serious for you mattered to him and he, now had to work out what to say without destroying your bond.
"...when I became fire lord," he began, "I sat in that throne room for an entire day of petitions and I understood maybe a third of what was being asked of me. and I had trained for it. I was certain everyone in the room knew how out of place I looked."
"that's different. you're... "
"I'm what?"
... you sighed, swallowing it back... you're zuko.
"I didn't marry you because you were born for this," he said. "no one is born for this. I barely survived learning it, and I had years of it before my exile as preparation." he twisted to look you in the eyes, now. "I married you because you are... you're honest in a way that people in that room have forgotten how to be. you're kind without overthinking it. you see things." he paused. "those aren't weaknesses in a fire lady. those are exactly what the fire nation has been missing."
"I couldn't answer a question about trade policy," you deflected.
"I'll have someone fill you in on that. properly, this time .. I should have done that already. that's on me." his jaw tightened slightly at his mistake of being so caught up on having you a wife and your time, that he forgot, the both of you weren't the only two to exist in his world of duties. "I keep forgetting that I can't just throw you in and expect you to swim because I know you can. that's not how this works. you needed scaffolding and I didn't build you any and I'm sorry."
"I'm not fragile," you started. "I'm not asking you to protect me from it."
"I know you're not." zuko picked up the headpiece from beside you, tumbled it over in his hands, studying detail. "I'm asking myself to be better at the parts of this that are mine to carry. preparing you. telling you when something's going to be hard instead of assuming you'll figure it out." he set it down, gently. "we're a team in this. that means the failures are mine too."
he stared you down, waiting on you... though you weren't sure what he was waiting for... permission, correction, or simply for you to say something true .. the truth is what you chose.
"I was scared tonight," you confessed. "not all the time. there were moments I was fine. but the scared parts were very scared."
"that's allowed." his eyes, in this light, were very gold. "I was scared tonight too, for the record."
a half laugh left you. "you looked so calm."
"I've had more practice looking calm than being calm." the corner of his mouth lifted heavenward. "It's a different skill."
you spilled laughter again, properly this time, and something in your chest set free the tension that had been building since the handmaidens first pinned your hair.
zuko reached over, in search of your hand. his fingers were always fired up. "...next time," he said, "come find me before you disappear into the garden. we can leave together for a few minutes. I need the air too."
"people will notice."
"let them." his thumb swiped your knuckles, once. "I am the fire lord. If I decide my wife and I need five minutes of quiet, I think I can make that decision."
it was quietly radical in his words of my wife... you were never something as little as a title, or a trophy draped in gold to be presented to crowded rooms.
you flipped your hand over and held his the right way. "alright" you agreed. "next time."
he nodded, but neither of you moved for a while. the lantern light from the main hall was lost to the moonlight. you can hear the faint drift of a late musician still playing in the palace... you sat in the garden until the song ended. soon, Zuko fetched your headpiece, standing, and offered you his hand... it was time to return... together.
ZUKO ✰ SEVEN YEARS (AND NEVER) TOO LATE
“You’re late,” you told him, slapping a dough ball onto the floured board. “I was starting to think you’d actually learned to sleep like a normal person.”
Zuko’s footsteps were almost silent, but you had spent seven years learning to read the spaces between sounds. He stopped at your prep station, just inside your peripheral vision, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on the back of your neck.
“I had a thing,” he said.
“A thing.”
“A diplomatic thing. With Ambassador Kuei. It went long.”
You snorted. “Let me guess. He wanted to renegotiate the trade agreement for the seventeenth time, and you wanted to set his mustache on fire.”
A pause. Then, very quietly: “…his mustache is very flammable-looking.”
You finally looked up. Zuko smiled at you. That should’ve told you he was up to no good.
Because he was holding a radish.
Not just a radish. Your radish. The one you’d been saving for the garnish on tomorrow’s soup, because these particular radishes came from a specific farm in the northwestern province, and they had exactly three of them left, and they tasted good without being boiled and—
“Put it down,” you said icily.
Zuko took a bite. Loudly. Crunchily. Maintaining eye contact the entire time. What an idiot.
“You glutton,” you hissed, grabbing for it. He danced back a step—lithe and quick, because of course he was; years of being banished and he still moved like a flame—and took another bite, chewing with deliberate slowness.
“It’s good,” he said, around a mouthful of radish. “Crisp. Tell the royal kitchen to buy more of these.”
“It was for the soup.”
“What soup?”
“Oh, you know. The soup I’m making tomorrow for the council luncheon, which you insisted had to be ‘impressive’ and ‘diplomatically neutral’ and ‘not the same thing we served last time,’ and now I have to figure out what to do with two radishes instead of three, so I hope you’re happy.”
Zuko thought about what you’ve said. Then he held out the remaining half of the radish. “Do you want it back?”
“Of course not,” you replied, scoffing. “That’s disgusting. I want you to leave.”
“You don’t mean that.”
𖧧 (MDNI) Firelord Zuko is rather awkward when it comes to his playful wife
Sawrry for the double post, my fyp has been filled with my malewife and I had to try writing for him.
"Am I not good enough to sleep with yet, Firelord Zuko?"
"Tch. I told you not to call me that," your husband murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose.
The wrinkled edges of his scar deepened as he refused to make eye contact with a very exposed you laying on your side. "I'm your husband, not some... some stranger you lay with every night."
"You certainly act like that way. You can't even make look at me in the eye without scowling," you retorted, rolling your eyes and shuffling into a seating position. The silk sheets under your bare knees had twisted as you moved, the man now listening to you tug your robe over yourself.
All whilst keeping his eyes off of you, of course.
Zuko moved around your bedroom, busy doing nothing as a heat bloomed across his cheeks hotter than any fire he could shoot out of his fingers.
He was the Firelord, for God's sake. Why couldn't he face his clearly receptive wife who wished not nothing more than getting intimate with him?
Your voice calling out again interrupted his conflicted thoughts. "I get it what this is about. You don't love me," you sniffled dramatically, turning your back to your husband so that the grin on your face was concealed from sight.
In an instant, he whipped around — eye twitching. "Don't— God. don't start. You know that's not true."
When you didn't reply, he shuffled over, scratching the back of his head with a curse. His long hair had been freed a while back, framing the angular contours of his face under the flickering candlelight. Were you really upset?
You turned around once his hot palm met your revealed shoulder, where the robe had slipped off of you somewhat. There, he saw the way your lips were pressed into a tight, thin line.
Ignoring the fullness of your chest to the best of his fading ability, the way it sloped downwards until your nipples poked out from between your robe, he opened his mouth to apologise.
Until your eyes flickered with mirth.
Zuko pushed back, face deadpan. "What is wrong with you— mmph!"
Your husbands complaints were cut short the moment you tugged him by the arm, obscuring his vision the second he face-planted into your breasts.
Not that he minded, of course — but it was rather difficult for Zuko to do anything when all he had was a mouthful of soft flesh he could barely breathe around.
You stroked his head, carded your fingers through his long hair somewhat lovingly yet scolding all the same. "I didn't know I married a prude. You can fight plenty on the battlefield, so why not in bed?"
"That's not the same," he argued, the flush on his face deepening further when he pulled away. His eyes searched your face, taking in each and every detail he had come to love so dearly.
Indeed, you were beautiful — and it was that exact reason he couldn't face doing anything with you.
It was as if he became overwhelmed with a sudden sense of inadequacy. It was a feeling he struggled to articulate into words, the old habit of resorting to impulsive means threatening to bubble up yet again.
But Zuko swallowed it down, shook his head, and cradled one side of your face. "It's not you. It's me," he began, "am I really worthy of—"
You shut the thought down immediately, silencing him with your lips on yours. The peck was brief, yet carried over each and every thought you has for him.
"None of that. When has it ever been like you to talk like this?" You challenged, playfully cocking your head to the side. You dragged his hands down to your breasts, eliciting a faint twitch deep in his undergarments. "That's not the Firelord I married."
Phwump!
"...you're right," Zuko swallowed, regaining a semblance of his confidence back after gently pushing you onto your back. Just about, though — because he was still having difficulty finding it within himself to look into your eyes even whilst looming over you. Once he did, though, he was a goner.
Your husband scanned your entire form, cursing himself for what a fool he had been, missing out on countless nights on getting to know you, your body. "A fool indeed," you echoed, smiling once Zuko realised he had spoken allowed.
"Stop making fun of me," he rumbled, lowering his head to nip at your throat. "I'm not here to be turned into the butt of your jokes."
"You know I'll— mmh, do it regardless," you cooed breathily. Not once did Zuko pull back, even when you angled your head to the side to give you easier access.
His lips simply followed the movement with growing confidence — until he sank onto his knees, face buried between your quivering thighs.
You really like Sylus's apartment.
Maybe it's the low lighting, the warm lamps he has scattered around his home. Maybe it is the countless little reading and napping nooks he has for you. Shelves upon shelves of books and DVDs stacked up for movie nights. Or maybe it's his leather seats that you slide your thighs onto after a hot summer day in Linkon.
No… Perhaps the thing you love most about his home is the man himself. The way he's always sitting on the sofa after you have a hard day. Glasses perched on his nose, eyes squinting softly as he reads whatever book he's decided to pick up. He's gotten more into fantasy, enjoying the action and suspense of war, fairies, and dragons.
There is always music playing. It's soft and low. Other times high and lively as you two dance around the room together. Occasionally, it garners the attention of Luke and Kieran. They'll join shyly. Luke laces his hands with yours, letting him twirl you around as Kieran catches you.
There is always laughter in his home. Serenity, serendipity.
Even when the days are long and hard, sometimes bloody. There is always joy. Whether that is Sylus awfully humming a lullaby, Mephisto curling onto your lap, or maybe even the sight of the twins playing a stupid card game they spent their allowance on.
No matter the circumstances, Sylus ensures there is always happiness in his home. For a man who believes he is nothing more than a monster, Sylus is an oxymoron. It's funny, actually. Despite his life being dangerous, despite every awful belief he has about himself, his love is anything but that. It is warm. It is safe.
Sylus makes his home safe. Despite the wounds of isolation that scar his heart and mind, he still holds space for you. Still invites you into his hoard, allowing you to mess with every little thing.
Himself included.
“SHE’S CRAZY BUT SHE’S MINE !!”
art credits: @//hunnismokah . divider credits: @//pixopix .
synopsis: sukuna always liked pretty girls, constantly eyeing the girl in his physics lecture, smart, sharp, always dressed like she means business—he thinks getting your number would be a piece of cake. only to his dismay, he’s met with what he could only describe as a rose with thorns, every eye roll, scoff and disgusted look you shot in his direction only tripling the infatuation he had, and slowly he can feel himself slowly falling for the kind of girl he never thought was his type.
(and thamk you to the lovely @sixxels & @lemonjuicie for helping me w this eek !!)
this is the first instalment to the bitchy!reader cinematic universe !
wc: 4.7k.
—
ryomen sukuna's life was always one that was full of noise, chaos and everything in between. he thrived in the mess that was frat life—the loud parties, the hookups that tasted like cheap alcohol and fruity lipgloss. being frat president came with responsibilities and a reputation that clung to sukuna's skin like the ink that dressed his body.
his notorious reputation always followed him around, not that he cared, he wore the persona like it belonged to him. he was too far in to ever leave the world that practically belonged to him.
his frat practically ran the place, filled to the brim with men that were exactly like sukuna—entitled overgrown pricks who always got what they wanted.
and there was absolutely no denying that sukuna was beautiful—over six feet of pure muscle, tattoos all over his massive arms, his blush pink hair being one of the things that stood out about him the most, always styled in a way that was messy but deliberate. his eyebrow and lip rings adoring his face, and he always had the most shit eating grin to top everything off.
sukuna orbited a domain that was so far detached from yours it was almost comical how far apart your worlds were. he lived in the midst of attention, thriving on any sort of drama he got into it, his lips sometimes bruised with all the pointless fights he got into.
you lived your life in everything sukuna would deem to be, quite frankly put, insanely boring. but you knew exactly what you wanted. and had your entire life planned before you.
you were sharp, straight forward, the biggest nerd any of your friends knew, most importantly you had absolutely no tolerance for people messing up absolutely anything in your insanely curated life.
your books were always aligned to perfection, you always sat at the very front of the class, your pens all matching your bag, your silly keychains crowding your bad almost comically. you always kept to yourself, people ruin things after all—they're loud invasive, some of them likened to bascterially resistant pests that you simply cannot destroy whatsoever.
so there the two of you were, two people universes apart, perfectly content in your own niches that it just made sense. but it wasn't like you were unaware of sukuna's existence. its be impossible if you were—your friends always finding out whatever mess he seems to have gotten himself to every week. you found him entertaining the same way you sometimes indulged in reality tv. it's fun to watch but you'd never touch it with a ten foot pole.
—
"what the fuck man you look like you got run over." toji says, eyeing up sukuna and his absolute mess of an outfit, his hair disheleved, his eyebags heavier than they usually are, flopping his entire body in the seat next to toji's.
"shut yer mouth toji." he almost groans, hands running down his face. he felt like shit. and he swore he could feel his head pounding in his skull, and lord he doesn't even know why he decided to show up to this stupid class anyway. but gods since he was here anyway might as well get it over with.
the class had barely begun before it started to feel like a drag, the professor spouting some nonsense that sukuna could barely comprehend before he heard the sweetest voice answer a question he was barely paying attention to.
his eyes immediately found you—and he swore he felt his breath catch in his throat momentarily. you were gorgeous, your hair done up, your glasses resting on your nose, your collared shirt hugged your body just right, your slightly tinted glossed lips almost shimmering in the classroom's blinding lights.
"yo, toji who's that girl?" he whisper shouts, nudging his friend in his ribs until he answered him.
toji barely registers it before he sees sukuna gaze fixed directly on your form.
"her name's uhh y/n or something. massive nerd, really knows what she's doing, most people are deathly afraid of her though" he says barely paying him any mind. because just had sukuna had his reputation, you had curated yours.
it came from the way you'd dismiss most people that ever dared to waste a sliver of your time, always flipping your perfect hair, having your headphones constantly in your ears blasting a song loud enough to rupture your eardrums to make sure people stayed away from you by all means. the way your eyes would roll to the back of your head when something even mildly infuriated you, just everything about you down to the sometimes bold makeup you'd sport, it just always turned you into someone that was never to be fucked with.
"scared of her, really?" it almost made him want to keep over laughing because well, you were adorable. there was no reason that any reasonable person would be afraid of you of all people, right?
toji snickered next to him. because god, if only he knew.
—
the class was dismissed after what felt like an era and then some, the entire classroom hurrying their way out.
right before you saunter your way out of the room, you can hear sukuna call out your name. and it has you stopping dead in your tracks.
"y/n ! wait up-"
you see the gigantic man run from the very edge of the class towards you and you let out the deepest sigh, because nothing he has to say could possibly be worth your time. you wanted to get back home, tuck yourself into your bed and binge the leftover tub of ice cream you had sitting in your fridge.
"and what could possibly want from me, ryomen sukuna, was it?" you shot right back at him, turning on your heel to stare right up at the man, your eyes narrowing while you committed his form to memory with the utmost scrutiny.
your response had sukuna nearly speechless, because he was used to people raving in his presence not eyeing him like whatever scum you would find at the back of your shoes.
"I—"
"well you didn't come all the way out here to talk to me, if you had nothing to say, correct?"
you were always quick with your words, or so you'd been told, every surefire response always sitting at the edge of your tongue like poison, it always had people on edge.
"I was going to ask you for your number, pretty." he managed to whisper out, his hand moving to scratch the back of his neck because he could feel the blood rushing straight into his head. this felt…so out of character—he's never let anyone address him like that before, so why should you be any different? people are always on edge around him, but something about the way you were looking at him as if you could pick his soul apart if he played all his cards wrong had him sweating under the stupid sweatshirt he was sporting.
"hmm, i'll think about it, sukuna." gods, even the way you said his name made him want to shrink into a corner, and a part of him went on a spiral as to why the fuck he thought it was so attractive.
and he had his feet firmly planted on the ground while he watched you leave, your hips swaying in the slightest, your hair swishing as you walked away from him.
this was only the beginning of what could only be described as the worlds worst obsession.
—
sukuna attend the next lecture too, hell bent on at least getting your number. still seated in the back of the class, eyes you while your eyes stay on the board, your expression deadly focused while you jot down your notes it has sukuna blushing like a teenager with a pathetic crush.
he's almost ashamed to admit that he spent a good portion of the next week trying to stalk you. finding all your socials, scrolling down your accounts to memorise each of your silly and perfectly curated pictures to memory, usually of a cute cafe or a hangout with your little friend group, almost the same sugary sweet drink in your hands in each one of them.
some of those pictures of you in cute clothes, your makeup done to perfection while you posed infront of a mirror, your hair framing your face so prettily, a part of his brain wanted to put you in his jacket, well, if you didn't terrify him that is.
sukuna didn't do romance, he didn't do relationships. and he for one, did not have a clue on how to charm a girl that wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
all he could do was gawk and stare, until the class inevitably ended and he was mentally preparing himself to try to talk to you again.
"she got you good, huh?" toji laughs from behind him, making him almost jump into the air.
"you're an ass fushiguro."
"yeah, yeah, you love me."
sukuna could feel his head clouding before catching up to you again. in the worst and arguably best way possible, you made him feel like an idiot.
"y/n!"
"oh it's you again. i thought you'd give up after the first try sukuna." you smirked, your expression painfully smug while you looked at him.
"well, i was surely not gonna give up that easily, y'know?"
"it's called being desperate."
"i'd like to call it persistence, really." he sounded a lot more confident than he felt, his palms almost sweating and shaking by the mere thought of you. it was pathetic, really. it's a shame you were attracted to pathetic men.
"can i at least walk you out of the class?"
"do as you wish." you snap, walking away, while he catches up to you like a lost puppy outside of the class.
the sight was so odd that you could practically hear the whispers from the people around you, and you mentally sighed. but it's not like you weren't a fan of drama either. it was just funny how quick people jumped to conclusions.
"is that—sukuna?"
"y/n, i thought she hated talking to people, and what's she doing with him."
conversation was practically buzzing and bouncing off the walls while sukuna followed you closely to the university's exit.
"well, that was..well whatever, i'll be on my way." you say before turning away, until he catches up to you again.
"wait! you always head to the cafe from here after class right?" shoot. he forgot that he technically wasn't supposed to know that.
"are you stalking me, ryo?" his brain was so quick to panick he barely registered the nickname before you continued.
"don't get your panties in a twist, i think it's cute." cute? well, yeah he could work with that for now. cute was okay, cute was good. and it definitely didn't have his heart beating uneven rhythms in his chest.
he walked you to the stupid cafe, trying his best to make small talk, but the more he tried to get to know you, the more intimidating you were. and gods, it was just so, so hot, it was killing him.
you rambled on about how you've always had a fascination with physics which is why you took the class, how you forced yourself to be good at it, because there was a time you sucked at the godforsaken subject so badly that it was embarrassing. and sukuna was nodding along taking mental notes before you joined your friends and waved him off.
yuki was immediately, looping her arms in yours,
"sukuna, really? i thought you had better taste, baby."
"well—whatever." is all you had to say for yourself before you ordered your stupidly overpriced coffee and headed home.
—
the next few weeks is just a culmination of sukuna shadowing you like he's a man on a mission.
he wants to know what you like, and moreover he wants to impress you. to the point that all his fraternity brothers hear about in parties is the way you smiled at him for a sliver of a second before scoffing again and they were almost as tired as you were. but a small part of them—toji, choso, gojo, who usually accompanied his drunk ass at parties were rooting for him. because they'd never thought they'd see the day where sukuna would be grovelling at his feet for a girl to look in his direction.
and when he's intoxicated, underneath overwhelmingly bright lights, all he can think about is how you would probably slap him across the face to sober him up. and that thought has him tighten around his pants, embarrassingly so, because the mere idea of you laying your hands on him has him painfully hard.
he can't even look in another girl's direction anymore without somehow thinking of you, the last time a girl tried to hit on him all he could think about was how much you'd love the bows she was wearing in her hair and just how cute they'd look on you.
and before he knows it he's back at his apartment, staring at pictures of you, his hands moving lower and lower until he's fisting his cock, thinking about the way you just roll your eyes, the way you huff when he says something stupid, the way you have him just wrapped around your pretty fingers, the mere idea of it all has him cumming embarrassingly fast, his abs coated in the prettiest sheen of sweat and cum while he groans into his pillows.
sukuna had started falling dangerously fast. but he absolutely did not need nor want to be saved.
—
"well do you ever plan on giving me your number?"
"mm maybe i will."
and that just immediately stuns him to silence. with most of his attempts at teasing, he'd already come to terms with the fact that you'd disagree to most things. so aftet all his begging and piss poor attempts to impress you, had he finally won?
"it's not like you can hold yourself in a conversation with me without sweating. i highly doubt you can text me without thinking thrice about the text, ryomen."
oh. well you were right, like you were almost always, he had no idea what to do with himself—eventually you dragged his phone toward you, inputting your contant with a little nickname and a bunch of pink hearts. well if you'd finally given him your contact, he had to mean at least something (look at this LOSER omfg), so he might as well use this opportunity to the fullest.
your phone would now always be full of stupid memes that sukuna would send to you trying to get you to laugh, even a little.
@//ryo: sooo whatcha doing?
@//y/n: there has got to be better ways to start conversations than that, ryo, try harder.
and this is the first time the stupid nickname you've been calling him finally registers in his brain, the blood rushing to his cheeks before he buries his face into his pillow. fuck, he was losing it. you had managed to nudge yourself into every crevice of his life that he could no longer imagine a singular day where you weren't around him to make fun of him.
—
the next week, he finds a way to be seated next to you in class, front and center, toji finds a way to tease him endlessly about it after, but the way you smile when he actually pays attention during the lecture while taking down notes has him riding that high for the rest of the day.
"you should just ask her out, y'know, this is getting out of hand." gojo says to him during a house party, bending over the pool table while looking back at sukuna.
"are you insane she'll kill me."
"there's NO way she's that scary dude." choso says while huffing out a puff of smoke from the worn out couch in the middle of the room.
"she barely likes me as is, if i pull that she'd kill me."
"and you'd be into that, win-win, right?" toji chimes in.
"you guys all suck." is all he says before finding a corner in the room to try to text you.
@//ryo: i'm so bored here, n/n get me out.
@//y/n: i never thought i'd see the day where you bore yourself out at a party, congratulations.
gods, it was almost just as nerve wracking texting you as it was to talk to you he just didn't understand it. everything about you always had him on edge. and he adored it to bits.
—
the next time he shows up to class he comes prepared. armed with your favourite drink (courtesy of the doomscrolling he did on your account), his stationary now matching yours, while he slowly sits down next to you again.
"what's this, ryo?"
"oh it's that drink you always like—"
"you know what drink i order?"
"no it's just- i'm- i just like remembering stuff about you, okay?"
okay. not the response you were expecting. you were hoping you could tease him into oblivion but the stupid things that sukuna said when he was put on the sport had your heart beating the same dangerous rhythm that his was. but you didn't want to let him in just yet. there's no person who ever made it this far in actually trying to figure you out. and you didn't know what to do with it except wanting to crawl under the ground and live there forever.
you slowly took the drink from him, whispering the sweetest little thank you before drinking it. and sukuna swore he could see stars. he was making progress with you. and by god, he had never felt more accomplished in his life before. because your edges seem to finally soften, even if it were only in the slightest.
—
you sat in your room, your body slack, a disgusting amount of sweat covering you from head to toe as you lay in your bed. you almost never got sick and without fail, every single time that you did you felt like you were being punished by the heavenly principles for something.
your body felt limp, before you continued to rot in your sheets, too tired to get up and shower and definitely too tired to show up to class.
—
sukuna showed up to the lecture like he always does, his eyes scanning the room to find his way next to your seat, only to find out you were weren't there. it wasn't unheard of for someone to be late—but not you, never you, and almost immediately his mind started finding the worst possible conclusion, what if you got kidnapped? what if you were finally so sick of him you left the place? wait no none if that made sense, he ultimately decided on texting you before he went down another embarrassing spiral about how you surely hated him.
@//ryo: y/n where are you class' starting yknow
@//y/n: sorry sukuna im sick :p im trapped in my dorms for today
oh. oh you were just sick. not the end of the world, right? but knowing you, you'd had to have been miserable to not show up for the entirety of the day, his heartbeat dropped straight to his stomach before he continued to type—
@//ryo: what's your dorm number?
@//y/n: r u gonna show up to my room like a knight in shining armour? its xxx.
he could feel his cheeks heat up, this was the most progress he'd made in so long, he barely noticed when toji was practically breathing down his neck and staring at his texts.
"you're actually talking to her huh im surprised."
"the fuck is that supposed to mean."
"you dont linger around someone for this long, sukuna, let alone someone who's shot you down so many times. maybe it's character development"
"she's just..i don't know, different, i guess? she isn't terrified of me, and she has that way of looking at a person that's terrifyingly alluring."
"a couple weeks of talking to this girl and she's turned you into fucking shakespeare, i'm happy for you man." he says before patting him on the back and taking his seat next to him.
—
the very second the class was dismissed, sukuna ran out like a man on a mission. he obviously couldn't get you the same coffee you always drink, that'd surely make you a lot sicker than you already were.
he remembers you vaguely mentioning that you liked soup, so he made his way to this place he always went to when he was hungover before a class, finding a soup that'd be spicy enough for your almost stupidly high spice tolerance, and stopping by a pharmacy to get you some medicine before heading to your dorm rooms in a hurry.
he slowly knocks at your door, hoping to god you gave him the right room number for the sake of his own sanity, and when the door creaks open, he's met with the sight of you, all huddled up in the hoodie that's three sizes too big, you eyes puffy, and your face entirely flushed, it made him want to roll you up into a ball and gnaw on you like candy.
he could hear your little sniffles, making his way into your room, setting down the bag of stuff he had managed to collect before he made his way inside.
"i didn't think you'd actually come, y'know."
"of course i did are you kidding me? look at you, you should be glad i showed up."
"whatever would i have done without you, my saviour" you rolled your eyes at him, trying your best to not let yourself slip. but you really were glad that he was here. it meant that he cared. that he wasn't just doing this with some form of underhanded motive in mind. it meant that it wasn't the same sukuna you first got to know. the one standing before you was softer, shyer, so disconnected from all the stories you'd heard of him and it scared you.
you show him the way around your kitchen, your brain still foggy from the near dangerous amount of cough syrup you'd downed before he made it to your place.
"your roommate isn't here, is she?"
"yeah she has work to get done, and i didn't want her to get sick." you sniffle almost pathetically.
"right, right." he said before moving around plating the soup into the pastel pink bowls you had in your kitchen, right before moving before you, slowly supporting your back to stop you from keeling over in pain.
"god, look at you, you can barely stand up straight."
"well, carry me around instead of kicking me when i'm already down, won't you?"
sukuna is stunned, well not for long before his hand moves to the back of your knees, the other supporting your back, carrying you back to your room bridal style. normally you'd have some smart retort, under other conditions you would've thrown a hissy fit, but now you were too tired to say anything, and having him carry you with near zero effort to your room had you weak in your knees.
he wastes no time in bringing the soup back to your room, dragging a seat close to your bedside, sitting down before he brings a spoon to his lips before blowing on it to make sure it wasn't too hot, before moving the spoon to your lips.
the cough syrup must've replaced the last brain cell you had left because you barely put up a fight before wrapping your lips around the spoon.
sukuna's shocked that you almost instantly comply, not before you shoot him the same look you gave him when you first met. you didn't have it in you to pick a fight, not when he was being this..nice. it made you all fuzzy and feel funny, and before you could find the rational part of your brain to try to stop you—
"ryo, why are you doing this?" you ask while he sets the bowl aside, while you sink into your hoodie, your voice barely a whisper nothing like the sharp confidence you wore while talking to absolutely anyone.
"what do you mean?" he shoots back, almost offended by the question.
"like..this, taking care of me, constantly bugging me with stupid shit, remembering the things i like, it's all so strange. people orbit you, sukuna. they'd worship the very ground you walk on. so, why me? is it so you can prove a point?"
sukuna was almost taken aback. that was probably the rawest confession he'd ever heard from you, all your walls cracking right before him right when you withdraw in on yourself, sinking into the plush mattress while trying to look everywhere but him.
"because you actually look at me past the stupid frat boy persona, y/n. you look at me as if you're picking me apart, you actually question the shit i do instead of just letting me get away with everything. you say things as it is, and i just really admire that. for what it's worth i'm not trying to prove a stupid point, if i was, i wouldn't go this far to change for you, right?
the moment he went on this little tangent, it did make you realise, he had changed essentially everything about himself to make sure he wasn't the same douche that he used to be. the whispers in the hallways thinned down, he got into lesser fights, and for the first time in all his years of college sukuna's name wasn't being talked about in some sorority girls' friend group on how he said he's call but never did.
it'd been subtle, well to you at least, until the person that was sitting by the side of your bed wasn't the same sukuna anymore. he'd changed. for you.
the both of you sat in that heavy silence, intelligible feelings bubbling to the surface with this careful game you'd been playing around each other. sukuna trying not to push you too far and you teasing him until he does.
"i—gods i want to ask you out y/n. this is killing me, but i'm not gonna do it here, you deserve something a lot more romantic, just let me down gently if you're gonna reject me, alright?"
you slowly nod, and to sukuna's shock,
"i think i'd like that. a lot, actually. just don't trip over your own feet."
he was almost ecstatic, jumping straight into you arms, wrapping his biceps around you, enveloping you in his warmth, crushing you underneath his weight while you slowly pat him on the back.
"mmph sukuna— youre heavy !"
" 'm sorry i'm not getting off of you just yet."
"you gigantic loser oh my fucking god—"
"aaaand she's back."
and before you know it the two of you are giggling in your bed, still crushed until sukuna's weight, while he has his face in the crook of your neck while you're comfortably lulled to sleep under his weight, the two of you forgetting everything else for a moment.
it felt like two galaxies collided, two disparaging universes, and two equally menacing people falling into each other's embrace as if they always belonged in each other's arms. and maybe letting your walls crack just the tiniest bit wasn't the worst thing in the world. because being in his arms wasn't difficult. not that you'd accept it anytime soon.
and sukuna, mr. frat president, had never had someone lodge themselves in his heart so permanently, so quickly, he just couldn't stop himself from falling. it felt like damnation and it felt like grace all at once. and he promised himself that he'd only get better for you.
—
tags 🍓: @pjselee @hungrynessforfics @rainlina @kurtcobaingirlie @masvrecords @deartoru @nnaa-bba @suguphile @twinkletfout @caramelluxe @lunarevia
tysm for 2k ! it’s my first time writing something this long i’m so scared to post this i’m crying
all work belongs to @liliklei , do not copy, repost, translate or feed into AI !!
acts of service
yuta would do anything to see you smile, and you know it.
he was never very good at making friends, quite the opposite. that time you defended him behind the school, cornered by bullies, he knew he had to stay by your side. as a partner, a friend, or whatever you wanted him to be.
you became best friends, joined at the hip. if you needed an opinion, advice, a scolding, or a shoulder to cry on, yuta was there. if you needed encouragement, a laugh, or a boost of self-esteem, yuta was there too. that’s how you ended up as roommates.
the bedroom was bathed in a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft click of polish bottles hitting the nightstand. yuta sat in front of you, his back unusually straight and an expression of concentration he usually reserved for expanding his domain.
"are you sure this color looks good on me?" he asked, holding out his right hand. his fingers were long and calloused from katana training, a drastic contrast to the pastel pink shade you were holding.
"it looks amazing, yuta. it brings out your skin tone." you assured him, taking his hand gently. "now, don't move."
he let out a small sigh, a shy smile curving his lips. he watched as you began to trace tiny white stars over the dark base you had applied earlier. he was mesmerized by the precision of your movements.
"i can tell you're quite the artist." he murmured almost to himself. "i like being part of the little things that make you happy."
suddenly, you stopped to blow on his nail, and he held his breath as if the slightest movement could ruin your masterpiece. when you finished the ring finger, he brought his hand close to his face to inspect it.
"it's a constellation." he noted, his eyes lighting up in a way he rarely allowed himself. "is it the one kirara showed us?"
you nodded, and the reward was immediate: a soft, genuine laugh that transformed his tired face. yuta kept his hand extended and shook it gently to dry it faster.
"tomorrow i have training with toge, maki and panda." he said, sounding amused rather than worried. "they’ll probably make fun of me for this, but i don't care. i'm leaving them like this until the polish falls off on its own."
-
the bathroom was filled with steam and the sweet scent of your lotion. yuta stood there, shoulders slightly tense, watching you finish applying your foundation. that ritual of yours had always fascinated him; how you decorated your face with precise brushstrokes.
"what's up, yuta?" you asked with a smile, meeting his curious, focused gaze.
he blushed slightly and scratched the back of his neck.
"nothing, just... that shiny powder you use at the end..." he pointed to the highlighter palette on the sink. "it looks... hard to put on."
you laughed softly.
"the highlighter? it's not that hard. just a touch on the cheekbones and the tip of the nose. do you want to try putting it on me?"
his eyes went wide.
"me? no, no– what if i poke your eye out? or... what if i put too much on and you look like... an explosive curse?" his hands, usually so steady with the instruments he used to decapitate monsters, trembled slightly at the thought.
"don't worry. i'll teach you." you promised, taking his hand gently.
you picked up the fluffiest brush and guided him to take a bit of product from the palette. then, you leaned closer to him, tilting your face in his direction.
"just a soft touch in this area, yuta. like you're stroking a wounded bird."
he swallowed hard. his face was so close you could feel his erratic breathing. his hand, gripping the brush with unnecessary force, approached your cheek.
the first application was experimental. it left a slightly thick silver line on your cheekbone. he held his breath, eyes fixed on the ‘error’.
"i'm so sorry, i'll take it off right now." he said, desperately reaching for a wipe.
"no, yuta, it's fine!" you stopped him, taking his wrist again. "it's just... a bit more intense than usual. but look..." you took your own brush and blended the product.
"oh!" his expression shifted from panic to awe. "now it looks amazing. you shine... you really shine. literally. like the sun peeking through white clouds."
you smiled at him, your cheeks slightly more colorful than before –not just from the makeup, but from his sincere compliment. encouraged by your reaction, he took the brush again, this time with a bit more confidence (but still with that characteristic gentleness).
"can i try the other side?" he asked.
you nodded. and this time, the application was much smoother –a light, almost fearful touch, but perfect. when he finished, yuta set the brush down and watched you with a mix of pride and adoration.
"you look..." his voice dropped to a whisper. "very beautiful. perhaps because you're smiling that wide."
-
you were sitting on the floor between his legs while he held a wooden comb as if it were a glass object that could shatter at any moment.
you’d had an exhausting day, and your hair, tangled by the wind and constant friction, was a map of knots you didn't have the energy to solve.
"are you sure you want me to do it?" yuta sputtered, running his fingers with extreme caution through a strand. "my hands are rough. i don't think i have the agility for this."
"don't worry, yuta. just go slow."
he nodded, though you couldn't see him. he started from the ends, holding the hair firmly near your scalp so that if the comb snagged, you wouldn't feel the tug.
click. click. the rhythmic sound of the comb advancing millimeter by millimeter with infinite tenderness.
"sorry." he murmured when the comb stopped at a stubborn knot. immediately, he set the tool down and used his fingers to undo the tangle with almost saintly patience. his fingertips brushed your neck every now and then, sending soft chills down your back.
little by little, you felt the tension in your shoulders disappear.
"your hair is very soft." he said suddenly, his voice a bit lower and huskier. "that’s why it falls so easily."
when the comb finally passed from root to tip without stopping, yuta let out a sigh of relief that made you smile. he set the comb aside and, instead of letting you go, began to run his hands through the length of your hair, familiarizing himself even more with its texture.
"there it is," he said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resisting the urge to hide his face in the crook of your neck. "all smooth."
he stayed there for a moment, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.
"if you want, i can try to braid it for you tomorrow. i've been watching some videos to learn." he admitted with a shyness that made you turn around to hug him.
-
"you're falling asleep." he whispered near your ear an hour later, with a little smile you could feel against your skin.
he didn't wait for an answer. with a practiced slowness so as not to disturb your peace, he helped you lie back on the pillows, tucking the blanket up to your chin. he sat beside you, leaning his back against the headboard, and reached for a book on your nightstand. it was an anthology of short stories, one of those books you kept for days when you didn't have enough time to daydream.
"where were we?" he asked softly, turning the pages carefully to avoid making noise. when he found the bookmark, he cleared his throat. "ah, here. the garden of shadows."
at first, his voice sounded a bit stiff and robotic, like he was giving a report at jujutsu high. but as he felt you search for his free hand under the covers to interlace your fingers with his, yuta relaxed.
his tone became deeper, more velvety. he began to read about enchanted forests and chimeras nesting in the sea. he put a soft intention behind every word, as if he were conjuring a shield of serenity around you.
"'and in that moment, the traveler's wings were reborn from the ashes carried by the wind.'" he read, pausing to look at you.
he saw that your eyes were already closed and your breathing had become slow and deep. the light from the bedside lamp created a thin veil of shadow on his face, highlighting the dark circles he always carried, though in that moment they seemed less pronounced.
yuta didn't stop reading immediately. he continued for a couple more pages, lowering his volume until it was little more than a warm murmur –a constant lullaby that blended with the sound of the crickets outside. he wanted to make sure that if you woke up for a second, the first thing you heard was the safety of his presence.
finally, he closed the book with an almost imperceptible movement. he leaned over you and left a chaste kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger for an extra second against your skin.
"goodnight." he muttered, fondly. "thank you for letting me be the one to take care of you today."
and he stayed there, watching over your sleep in the twilight.
-
you arrived at the apartment with slumped shoulders –the kind of tiredness that settles in your bones and that even coffee can't fix. yuta saw you walk through the door and, before you could say a word, he was already rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, which was lightly splattered with blood. he didn't need to ask; your expression was enough for him to go into ‘rescue mode’.
"don't say anything," he murmured, stepping closer to take the bag off your shoulders. "go change. i'll handle the rest."
ten minutes later, the bathroom had been transformed. yuta hadn't just prepared the water; he’d found those bath salts you saved for ‘special occasions’ and had lit a couple of vanilla, cinnamon, and tangerine candles –even if one was a bit crooked.
"it's a bit hot, be careful." he warned as you submerged yourself in the bubbles.
he sat on a low stool behind the tub. he had a small towel and one of those sheet masks you had taught him how to use.
with infinite patience, he began to wash your back with a sponge. his movements were slow, to the beat of a silent melody, erasing the tension built up in your muscles. there was no rush. in that space of tiles and steam, yuta was simply your guardian.
"close your eyes." he asked.
you felt the sudden cold of the sheet mask on your face. he used his fingers to smooth the edges of the mask over your skin, making sure there were no air bubbles, with the same precision he would use to draw a protection seal.
"you look like a capybara with that mask." he paused, letting out a soft chuckle. "it'll help you rest."
he stayed there, holding your hand over the edge of the tub, simply accompanying you in the silence. he didn't try to fill the void with unnecessary chatter; he only offered you his solid, constant presence.
-
yuta carried you in his arms from the bathroom to the bed with the same ease he would carry his ring. he placed you on the soft sheets with extreme delicacy, making sure the blanket covered you well so you wouldn't lose the warmth of the bath.
"don't move," he ordered sweetly, putting a finger to his lips. "i'll be back in five minutes."
he slipped away to the kitchen. from the bed, you could hear muffled sounds: the click of the electric stove, the stream of water filling a small pot, and the unmistakable sound of a plastic package tearing open.
yuta wasn't preparing a three-course dinner. he was preparing the emergency dinner par excellence: instant noodles. but because it was yuta, he didn't stop at just adding hot water.
in the kitchen, he was intensely focused. he poured the boiling water over the block of noodles in a large ceramic bowl. while he waited, he searched the fridge.
"let's see... a bit of chopped green onion... and... aha!" he triumphed quietly upon finding an egg.
he boiled it quickly (medium-soft, just how he knew you liked it) and peeled it with obsessive care so it would be perfect. he added the seasoning packet, the chive, the egg sliced in half, and, as a final touch, a sheet of nori seaweed he had found at the back of the pantry.
he returned to the room balancing the steaming bowl in one hand and holding a pair of chopsticks and a spoon in the other. the aroma of hot broth and spices filled the air –a scent that reminded you of the old days when you survived on noodles in school.
"here you go." he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing the bowl in your lap. "it's not from a michelin restaurant, but it's hot and it has the 'okkotsu lucky egg'."
seeing his expectant face, with his hair a bit messy from the kitchen heat... you took the chopsticks and tried the first bite. it was perfect, better than any gourmet dish: simple, comforting, and full of the affection he’d put into those simple three minutes of preparation.
"thank you, yuta." you said with your mouth a bit full, smiling for real for the first time all day. "it's the best thing i've ever tasted."
he sighed in relief, his own smile widening. he settled in beside you, watching you eat with deep satisfaction.
"i knew you'd like it. sometimes, instant noodles are the best medicine for the soul."
-
it was a sunday morning, one of those where time seems to stand still. you had woken up late, your hair a rebellious knot at the crown of your head, wearing one of those old, oversized t-shirts that the washing machine had stretched out mercilessly but was still comfortable. you had pillow marks on your cheek and a trace of drool at the corner of your mouth. in short: you felt like a domestic disaster.
yuta, on the contrary, was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in hand, watching you with an expression of absolute adoration as you stretched and yawned without shame.
"good morning." you murmured, rubbing an eye and trying to tame your hair without success. "don't look at me, i'm a monster."
before you could cover your face with the sheet, you heard the characteristic click of the phone camera.
"yuta!" you protested, turning red. "delete that! i haven't even washed my face!"
"delete it? you're crazy!" he said, scandalized, trying not to break into a genuine smile that threatened to give away his adoration. "it's perfect."
he turned the screen toward you, showing off the moment he had captured.
"but my hair is awful and this shirt is pathetic!" you exclaimed, looking away, feeling a bit insecure.
yuta set the phone down and moved closer to you, taking your chin gently so you would look him in the eyes. his gaze was serious, filled with that protective intensity only he had.
"to me, you are the most beautiful model in the world. it has nothing to do with whether you get dressed up or not. i see... i see this," he pointed to your face. "i see the peace you give me when you're this comfortable with me, being yourself in all your splendor, and that makes you the prettiest of all."
you smiled at him, a bit bashful but with a full heart. the compliment was so sincere, so him, that it dispelled any insecurity.
he picked up his phone again and framed the shot once more.
"one more," he asked. "but this time, give me that real smile you just gave me. the only one i get to see."
you laughed softly and posed with those ridiculous faces you loved to make, feeling safe in the eyes of the boy who saw you as the most precious thing in the universe.
what were you? it wasn't very clear, but he would do anything to see you smile, and you would give him that pleasure even in your lowest moments.