The Fine Print | Chapter Four
Pairing: Producer! Sukuna x Pop Star! Reader
Synopsis: Is there a God? You hope so. I mean you think so. Because one day, it felt like he tapped you on the shoulder, sprinkled a little divine chaos on your life, and said, “Good luck, kid.” If there is a God though, he definitely has a twisted sense of humor. You didn’t know who he was (Spoiler: turns out he wasn’t just “some guy”.) and somehow, without even trying, he didn’t just get your food in the door–he barged in with the whole body and suitcase. Looking back, maybe you should send him an autograph that he can sell off as a thank you gift. Because this? This is how one stranger, one bad introduction, and one mistake snowballed you into becoming a popstar. Oh, and how you almost let a man completely fuck up your entire life.
Genre: Enemies to lovers, comedy, a bit of fluff, angst, modern setting, sukuna being a piece of shit.
Warnings: (18+) Use of strong words, harrasment, sexual activities, violence, cheating, mentions of blood, drug use.
Taglist: @bearchermer @pillowprincess4him @getosshampoo
You ended up at the spot that Kenjaku chose to meet at because why not? The spot wasn’t flashy, it was a regular cafe for the average person.
Actually you lied, the place looks like it hasn’t seen sunlight since the 70s.
It was definitely not where you pictured meeting the so called record company owning, “big shot” business man. You’re honestly surprised he even chose this spot out of every cafe in the city. Like c’mon, you’re in one of the most highly gentrified, celebrity crowded areas in the country. You know there’s at least twenty better options (within walking distance, mind you), that serve oat milk and fancy foam decorations.
But Whatever, that’s not important. What matters is this.
You’re here to meet with Kenjaku—the owner of a record label. Something you’ve been waiting on ever since you began your singing career. You’ll do whatever it takes, and if this meeting has to happen in a dingy looking cafe, then fine. You can deal with it.
“Heard the demo,” Kenjaku says, breaking the silence between you two. He swirls the drink in his hand, but doesn’t take a sip from it. “Honestly? I can’t say I disliked it.”
I mean “not disliking” is already a compliment to you, but even though he said that he didn’t dislike it, the way he phrased it made it seem like he wasn’t even the slightest bit impressed.
“Okay…” You urged on, waiting on him to say more than just that.
“There’s definitely something there and there’s no mistake when I say that you have potential. Whether it’s worth the headache of dragging it out of you is another question.”
You feel yourself sink into a puddle of humiliation and force yourself to look down at your drink. What were you supposed to say to that?
He sees the potential, but in the same sentence he’s trying to figure out if you’re worth it. Okay… think, c’mon think. What if you cried and begged him to give you a chance? You can’t say no to a girl's tears.
He chuckles, “Don’t misunderstand. I’m just being realistic here. I’ve worked with a lot of talent during my time of owning a record label. Some make it. Some end up stuck in debt, owing me more than they’ll ever earn. Can you take a wild guess which group is the majority?”
He lifts his cup and takes a slow sip from it, smirking at you as he looks over the rim. “I’m not here to discourage you, but understand if I invest in you, I need you to triple that. That way, we’re not wasting each other’s time.”
Surprisingly, you still had nothing to say. You’ve been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes, and with the weight of the conversation, you feel small around him. Now you see why he was able to get Sukuna to work with him—he definitely knows how to control a situation.
“So tell me. Why do you want this?”
Startled by the question, your mouth opens, but nothing comes out right away.
Yes, this was your passion. Yes, you’ve been dreaming of this. Yes, you want to get out of your shitty apartment, along with your shitty job.
But was there more to it?
“What would you sacrifice to keep going? Time? Money? Your morals?” His eyes narrowed, the corner of his lips slightly lifting. “You’re a pretty girl. I’m pretty sure you could navigate yourself around the industry well.”
What the fuck? This doesn’t feel like small talk. He’s digging. Digging for what and why? you don’t know, but you have a feeling whatever answer you give, it’ll come back to bite you later.
So you make the decision to not answer any of his questions.
He’ll just have to see for himself. Because part of you doesn’t really know either.
When he leans back, he shifts the conversation with ease. “Sukuna is cruel and I’m sure you know that by now. But he’s efficient and that’s why I keep him by. Like I said earlier, only a few make it big, and instead of taking a gamble like me, he only invests in those who can keep up.”
Okay, you get it now. Blah, blah, invest. Blah, blah, sacrifices. Blah, blah, Sukuna. Can we get back to you please? What’s the next step for YOU?
You sigh, a little frustrated with how long this conversation is going without any insert from you yet.
“I don’t mean to change the subject or anything, but what does all of this mean for me? You speak as if I’m already signing a contract with you, but you haven’t specifically told me if you’re thinking about taking me under your label. Do I need to prove myself to you a bit more?”
Kenjaku was silent. Clearly thinking about his next words carefully. He lifts his cup again, voice smooth as ever. “I don’t mind signing you. In fact, your potential outweighs the negatives. But paper and ink mean nothing if the artist isn’t worth the trouble. A contract doesn’t guarantee you success and to me, it just makes you an expensive bill that I need to get rid of,”
“So the real question isn’t whether I’ll sign you. It’s whether you can convince me that you’re worth the risk. I need to know that when the pressure comes, you won’t fold.”
You looked away from him, feeling tense under his gaze. You’re unsure if you should back out of this, or take the risk and do whatever it takes to reach the spot you’d been dreaming of.
You came this far. There’s no way you can back out now.
Underneath everything, his words, every syllable that came out of his mouth dripped with warning. The contract might as well take the form of a leash. One tug, and you’re done.
You try not to squirm in your seat, but your brain won’t stop spinning. Your name could potentially be added to the list of failed artists he shrugs off like a bad investment. From a business standpoint you could see why, but these are humans who had a passion and a dream just like you.
It feels like he’s testing the waters to see how much you can handle. How much pressure you can take before you crack.
“I get it. I’m not here for a free ride and if I can’t prove myself, then I don’t deserve to be here in the first place.”
Your voice comes out steadier than you expected, though on the inside you're screaming at yourself to not go on a tangent. “If you’re saying I need to earn it, fine. I’ll earn it. I’ll work twice as hard, three times if that’s what it takes. Just give me the chance to show you I’m not someone who you’ll later regret. I’ll be your best earning artist, and that’s a promise.”
The air between you two feels heavier. Your words are hanging there, waiting to be crushed or welcomed with acceptance
Kenjaku doesn’t react right away. He just studies you, as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle to what you just said to him.
“Confidence,” he chuckles. “We’re off to a great start.”
“I’ll give you a chance, but let me make something clear once again. If I put money into you, that debt will sit on your shoulders until it’s paid back. It’s called an advancement.”
You can’t help but feel a thrill crawling up to your chest. Sitting across from you is this weirdly suspicious business man with a stitch tattoo across his forehead (you actually think it’s kinda cool), offering a music deal with you.
With you and not anyone else.
Oh my God. You really have to thank that man at the convenience store next time you see him. Give him a big fat kiss or better yet, give the first autograph of your singing career to him so he can try to sell it on eBay someday.
You listened to Kenjaku continue on, trying your best to hide your giddiness.
“And until then, I decide the creative direction. The songs you record, the image you sell, what gets released, and what gets buried.”
And just like that, your excitement dies.
You open your mouth, but he’s already lifting a finger, silencing you.
“When you pay back your debt, that’s when you’ll earn your freedom. Until that day,” His lips curl into that stupid, sly smirk once again. You’re seriously getting tired of seeing it.
“Your career is mine to shape.”
Kenjaku lets a few moments of silence stretch, then lets out sighs as if the conversation tired him out.
A soft ding rings from his pocket, interrupting the moment. He glances down, then back at you with a composed expression. “Well,” he says, standing to grab his jacket that was hanging on the back of the seat, “I’ve got somewhere to be. It was nice talking to you.”
You instinctively stood up as well, grabbing your purse and keys that sat on the table. You’re honestly relieved that the conversation didn’t drag on any longer. You weren’t sure how much more you could handle hearing about how you weren’t in control of the creative direction of your potential career.
After a small brief, awkward goodbye, he calls for your attention again, cutting you off mid step.
“Oh, one more thing,” he adds, pausing just long enough to make your stomach drop.
What more could he possibly want?
“You’ll also be working with Sukuna for the majority of your projects. Consider yourself lucky. You don’t need him to like you. You just need him to use you.”
All you could only nod your head as you wave goodbye, but inside, your mind is racing. Use me? Really? That’s… terrifying. But somehow, you’re kind of intrigued by what he means by that.
Kenjaku’s words linger in your thoughts as you make your way to your car. You feel a weird mix of excitement and panic.
Sukuna. The same man who brings nothing but irritation every time you think of him.
Brilliant, yes. Genius, probably. Asshat, most definitely. And apparently allergic to basic human manners and decency. You just can't wait to be in the studio again with him, let alone breathe the same air as him.
You can practically hear your intuition screaming at you to stop being a dumbass and accept the fact that it’s okay to continue to work a 9-5, in a shitty apartment. But you know what.
You can fake it until you make it. Ride the wheels until it basically falls off.
By the time you slide into the driver’s seat, you’re already running multiple scenarios in your head of what your pop star life will look like, whether you’re ready for the chaos or not.
One thing is certain though.
Nothing in your life from this point forward will be ordinary again.
I know you see that break line right there.
Can you guess what you’re doing right now?
Well, let me fill you in. You’ve been thrown straight into getting ready for an “industry event”, hosted by some random person who happens to be really good friends with Kenjaku. For God’s sake, you hadn’t even had a chance to sit your ass on a chair before your phone buzzed with a text,
“Industry event tonight. You’re invited. Don’t be late.”
Is this your life now? Constantly on the move, doing a million things in a single day? I mean, things were just set into motion today, but you weren’t even making real moves yet, but here you are looking at your reflection, checking to see if your appearance would make the right impression.
Your phone buzzes. It’s Shoko. You answer immediately because after telling her where you were going, you already know she’s about to lose her mind.
“Uh, what do you mean you’re heading out with Kenjaku?” She blurts out before you can even say hello.
“I didn’t say I was heading out with him. I’m just meeting up with him. He didn’t give me much information about it, just “don’t be late”.” you replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. But deep down, you did not know what to expect and that fact had you rethinking your whole decision.
On the other end, you can hear Shoko groan through the speaker. “You know what—just be careful please. Text me when you get there, text me when you leave, and don’t hesitate to call me if something feels off. I mean it.”
Your heart flutters at her words. You're grateful she cares this much, especially since you’ve had friends before who would’ve left you for dust.
“Relax, Shoko. You’re gonna worry yourself to a heart attack. Besides, I think I can wiggle myself out of trouble if it comes to that.”
Shoko lets out a heavy sigh and doesn’t say anything for a minute.
“Do you have your taser?”
“And what did I tell you if some guy ever causes you trouble?”
“Stomp him in the balls until he lands in a hospital, so you can clock in, check his chart, and stomp him again.”
“Yeah yeah. You sound like my dad,” you tease, glancing out the window as you see headlights pull up to your apartment building.
You see a man step out of the vehicle waiting, dressed in a black suit and glasses.
Yep. That’s definitely your designated driver, the one Kenjaku insisted on calling for you, because apparently when you sell your soul for a contract, you also get a complimentary car service.
“Sorry Shoko, but I gotta go.” You say quickly, grabbing your purse and spraying on one last scent of your perfume.
“Dont forget to text me the second you get there.”
“I will mom.” you promise, knowing she’s going to blow up your phone regardless if you text her or not.
With that, you hang up, shoving your phone into your bag, and step outside where the driver’s already waiting. The driver greets you with a polite bow before opening the door for you.
Climbing into the back seat, you take a deep breath and remind yourself to play it cool.
It’s just an event. Nothing scary. Totally normal. Totally fine.
The ride doesn’t take long, and before you know it you’re stepping into one of those nightclubs you’ve only ever seen on other people’s social media pages. Expensive isn’t even the word to describe what the inside looks like.
Gold lights were dripping from the wall and along a set of stairs. The walls were padded with grey like cushions that vibrated from the bass of the club. There were people all around dancing and drinking at the bar.
This sight hits you all at once. It was like walking into a room designed for bad decisions and regrets.
Through the crowd of people, Kenjaku spots you instantly, sliding through the crowd of people like he owns the place. He exchanges grins and nods with people who clearly recognize him. Meanwhile, you try to act as if you belonged but your shuffle between your heels continues to give away the awkwardness of standing in the middle of the room.
His voice shouts your name with a grin on his face.
“There you are,” Kenjaku greeted. “I’ve been telling everyone so much about you.”
Oh Godddddd. Not even ten minutes and you’re possibly the walking headline of the night.
“You have?” You replied with a nervous breath.
He tilts his head and there it was—that stupid smirk on his face. “Of course I have. Gotta have people become familiar with my new client.”
By hearing that, your brain is already creating an escape route. You’re really considering texting Shoko to come pick you up.
“But tonight,” he continued. “I invited you here to familiarize yourself with your peers. Tonight isn’t about contracts or deals, it’s about faces. I want you to meet those who run in the same circles you’ll be stepping into. Think of it as… joining one big family.”
Kenjaku comes beside you and rests his hand on your lower back. “I have some people that are excited to meet you, so if you would give me the pleasure of introducing you to them, that would be great.”
All you could do was mutter out a small agreement as he guided you through the club. Dodging others so you wouldn’t accidentally bump into them, weaving between waiters balancing trays of liquor, while you prayed you didn’t trip on your heels.
The music pounded through the walls as he led you down a corridor, away from the main floor of the club. The further you went, the more muffled it became. A few closed doors lined in the hallway, each one marked with nothing on them except a number.
You take note of your surroundings as a safety measure. The exits, the shadows underneath the doors, how many doors there were, and assuming how many may be behind them based on the sound of voices coming from them. Just in case.
Shoko’s voice echoes in your head. Taser. Pepper spray. Knife. Balls.
You both slowed when Kenjaku reached the final door that was located at the end of the hall. He glances over at you, with the corner of his mouth curling up to say,
He pushes the door open, but doesn’t fully step in until you head in first.
The room you stepped in was dimly lit, heavy with cigarette smoke and the sweet, sweet, skunky smell of weed. Light pooled over low tables stacked with bottles of liquor that probably cost more than your rent. Chatter and laughter bounced throughout the room and you caught a glimpse of people hunched over a game of cards with tables stacked with money.
A couple of guys were arguing over a bet while another was too busy whispering into a model’s ear to even notice the game at all. Off to the side, someone had their phone out, recording snippets for their Instagram story. You also caught a girl in the middle of the room with a bodycon dress, dancing barefoot on the couch, glass in hand, shouting along to a song that played across the room.
Ugh. What a room full of egos.
Kenjaku found the small of your back again as he ushered you towards a table crowded with a group of people. As you approach, you already begin observing the people who are there.
Wait a damn minute. Tattoos? Pink hair? I know that's not who—
And just like that. Every head at the table turned to look at you.
You swallowed your nerves and straightened as Kenjaku nudged you closer to the table. A small wave of a hand with a simple, “Hey.” was enough for you.
Kenjaku pushed out a chair for you and ushered you to sit down as you still felt numerous eyes on you.
A voice breaks in, sounding whiny, but playful at the same time.
A man with grey long hair and stitch tattoos all across his body says, leaning forward to smile in your face. “I heard so much about you already. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” He winks, and you can’t tell if you should feel disgusted or creeped out. You chuckle nervously nodding at him, returning your acknowledgement.
“Choso,” another introduces himself, also with a tattoo aligned around his bored expression.
What’s up with all these damn tattoos? And on the face too?. Not judging, because they are attractive with them, but still.
A few others such as Jogo and Hanami, greet you as well, but before you can introduce yourself properly to the group, a deep, irritating, grating voice throws their two cents in.
“Cut the shit. The hell are you here for?”
Your mood instantly sours.
Oh hell no. He’s not about to humiliate you in front of all these people. Sure, you’re feeling nervous. Sure, you feel intimidated by this room full of people you don’t know, but you're prepared to hold your ground.
Sukuna continued to taunt you. “You heard me. I’m not going to waste my time repeating myself.”
“Well, congratulations," you snapped, matching his energy, “you just did.”
Now that you think about it… “Since you’re so caught up with wasting time, what the hell are you even doing here? Cause it seems to me that you need to go and be useful somewhere else instead of using your precious minutes on me. Go be productive, or keep talking shit for all I care. But, either way, stop wasting my time on your ass.”
You looked down at the watch that you were wearing. “Oh, look at that. You owe me ten seconds of my time back.”
The entire table was silent.
Wait… where did the music go?
Matter of fact, the whole damn room is silent. All you could hear was a faint cough from somewhere behind you.
Sukuna just glares at you without a single word.
Everyone else in the room freezes. They are shocked to see that someone dared to argue back with Sukuna. I mean, it’s Sukuna. No one in their right mind would try to get on his bad side. Doing so is almost setting yourself up for career suicide. Not that you know that though.
Sukuna scans the room, glaring back at those with shocked faces.
“The fuck are you all staring at?”
People immediately turn back around and the noise begins to slowly fill up the room again.
Mahito laughs and whistles towards the two of you. “Wow. Do you two need to fuck or something?”
You snapped your head towards him, making a face that showed disgust. Offended, you stated, “Never. He would have to beg just to step ten feet near me.”
Sukuna leans back in his chair, and for the first time, a smirk makes an appearance on his face.
“Oh… then I’ll just stand nine feet away and see how long you last.”
You shut your mouth, cheeks burning up from embarrassment, trying to keep the not-so-nice words from leaving your mouth.
Kenjaku intervenes, raising his hand in a mock peace gesture. “Okay, okay. Let’s calm down. I brought her here to enjoy herself and get familiar with what’s to come.”
He glances at Sukuna, voice calm, but firm. “She’ll be working with you mostly anyway—”
Sukuna scoffs, cutting him off. “I’m not working with her.”
Kenjaku doesn’t look phased at his decline. “I’ll triple the offer. Whatever you need. Just mold her into something that’ll put her on the charts.”
Sukuna considers, falling silent to think on his answer, then finally gives it, “Triple.”
Kenjaku nods, leaning back with that same smirk. “Good. Now, everyone else, keep an eye on her. She’s the one to watch.”
You glance around the table, taking in the small deal that just took place. Somehow, despite the tension, you could feel yourself getting used to this.
Someone walks by, holding out a small bag. “Anyone want a hit?”
You stare at the bag like it didn’t come from this earth. Is that… coke?
Some take it, some shake their heads. Sukuna doesn’t, Kenjaku doesn’t, but Kenjaku raises an eyebrow at you.
You’ve never been so quick to deny something offered to you. “No… I’m okay.”
But you did have a few drinks though.
Because now you’re drunk off your ass.
You sway slightly as the club lights blur into streaks of different shades of neon. The bass thumps in your chest, and you had no care in the world. But all good things must come to an end.
The club announces that they’re closing soon and Kenjaku’s already disappeared into the crowd to handle… whatever it is he handles, leaving you to stumble your way toward the exit.
You fumble in your purse, realizing with a sinking feeling that you forgot to ask Kenjaku if someone could drop you home. Great. Shoko must’ve been asleep by now and you didn’t want to disturb her sleep, so now your final option was to wait on an uber to pick you up.
Before you can even finalize your plan to get home, a guy walks up to you, a grin plastered across his face. “Hey. I saw you on the floor earlier. Did you need help getting home? I’ve got a car out in the front.”
Typical male behavior. You’re not dumb. You know what he wants, but this was not the time to be hooking up and flirting. You just wanted to get home.
You blink at him, taking a steady breath. “No, thank you. I don’t want that,” you slur slightly, but firmly enough to make your stance clear.
He chuckles and leans closer, ignoring your words. That’s when you feel a firm grip on your arm.
“What the fuck!? Let go of my arm!” you shout, stumbling on your heels, trying to fight off the person holding you against your will.
You fall onto your hands, and push yourself up onto shaky feet, brushing at your legs. “The hell is wrong with you? I told you to let go, not—”
And before you could fully look up, hands immediately grip around your chin, forcing your face to meet with Sukuna’s. The scent of alcohol lingers on your breath, but he doesn’t flinch from it.
“You’re drunk, brat. Don’t act like I didn’t just save your ass back there.”
You slap his hand away, too tipsy, and tired to fully be irritated. “I didn’t ask you to play hero.”
“Hero? Don’t kid yourself,” he spits, “I should’ve just left you there if you’re gonna act like that.”
Your glare up at his towering height, even as your legs wobble beneath you. “Then leave me the hell alone,” you snap, your voice just loud enough for him to hear as you walk away.
You stand still for a moment, thinking for a moment of what you needed to do again.
Yeah, right… A ride home.
Pulling up the Uber app, a prickling sensation crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the feeling of someone staring at you. And you weren’t wrong, because when you turned around Sukuna was still standing there, watching you the entire time.
You raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you? It’s rude to stare y’know.”
“What are you doing?” He asks, his tone surprisingly not holding an edge.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to get an Uber home.” You snap, pointing and waving the phone at him.
Before you could react, he walks up to you and snatches the phone from your hand.
You were instantly taken aback by his offer.
Was this the same person who continuously insulted you and said that he should've left you with that guy earlier? Whatever, just because he’s being nice by offering doesn’t mean you’ll take it.
“Like hell I will. I wouldn’t get in a car with you even if it was my last day on Earth,” you snap.
Sukuna rolls his eyes, unbothered. “Okay, then go ask the other guy for all I care,” he says, walking away like your words didn’t even register.
You freeze for a moment. You don’t know anyone else here. Ubers cost money. And… ahhh, the hell. Why not?
“Actually, I take that back,” you mumble, shuffling your feet. “If you could… I wouldn’t mind.”
Sukuna glances back at you, expression unreadable, then turns away again. “Okay.”
You stand there for a full minute, staring after him. Was that a yes or a no?
“Are you going to keep standing there and look like a dumbass?” he calls from the door, waiting.
You glare at him, face burning as you hurry towards the door.
As you walk toward him, your mind races. You can’t believe you’re actually getting a ride from him. Part of you is worried. There are evil people in this world, after all, and he’s not exactly the safest option. The other part is just… mildly irritated at yourself for even agreeing.
Just remember what Shoko said. Taser. Pepper Spray. Pocket knife. Stomp on balls.
You take a deep breath, hoping for one thing above all else.
A/N: Sorry for the late update! I’ve been so busy working on other projects, but updates should be back more frequently now.
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