✧Sukuna x Reader - Buzzin In My Brain Part 2✧
Fluff | Modern AU | Pre-Relationship | Concerts can be a source of joy, excitement, even therapeutic... but you didn't expect to meet someone as magnetic as him.
The post concert depression didn't hit you as hard as you expected.
Maybe it was because you'd met someone new.
Maybe it was because you were already eyeing another concert next week.
A surprise show from a band you love.
Your thumb hovers over the information, the date, the venue, the price of tickets.
Everything feels like you're meant to buy a ticket.
Only one.
Partly because you're friends don't enjoy that kind of music.
Part because you're crossing your fingers you'll see the pink haired man again.
Within minutes of receiving your order confirmation for your ticket, still buzzing with joy and anticipation.
Your phone chimed on your bed.
You open the chat bubble, your heart slightly jumping at the sight of his name.
You can't help but smile down at your phone.
You don't really know the guy, didn't know where he worked or anything beside a name, a phone number and music taste...
You may be a fool but never careless. So you inform your friends and make sure they have your location.
Still, you count the days before the concert, a little more pep in your step at work, a smile growing easily on your face.
Whether it's because of him or the band, you study the setlist like its test.
The venue is different from last time. Bigger, by a lot. An arena.
You've been there countless times before, you're confident on where to go. Got your ticket secured in your phone.
Getting out of the train along with a sea of black t-shirt, you feel your stomach starting to grumble a bit. You sigh, you figured you'll get yourself a small bite inside the venue even if it's crazy expensive.
Better than passing out in the pit.
That would prove Sukuna's point and you wanted to prove him wrong.
You turn the corner of the street when you see him.
Sukuna.
Leaning against a stone wall of the building,
cigarette tilt lazily between his fingers,
a cap backward on his head,
pink hair peeking from the sides.
Damn he looks good. You tell yourself.
You honestly gotta pinch yourself about how you ended up hanging out with a guy that looks like you're dream man.
When he scans the crowd, he spots you within seconds. Straightening his back and stepping on the cigarette.
"Follow me." He says before turning his back to you.
You narrow your eyes.
He didn't seem like much of a talker but not even a "hello"?
Still, you do as he tells you.
You follow him.
You look up at his cap, a logo, a name. Is that a band you don't know? The company he works at?
You take a mental note as you follow him inside a restaurant that's inside the venue.
Sports bar type with giant TVs at every 3 feet and loud music in vibe with the concert.
The place is packed with ticket holders for the night.
You usually make a reservation to be able to eat here when you come with your friends.
You already plan option B, C and D in the probable eventuality there's no table available while Sukuna walks up to the front desk.
"Reservation at 6:10 for Sukuna, two." He tells the waitress, his demeanor is calm, relaxed.
And now you're glad you're standing behind him so he can't see your face getting warmer at an alarming speed.
You follow the staff to table for the two of you. You sit in front of Sukuna and almost immediately bury your face into the menu.
Your heart acting like a traitor in your chest.
Then—
before you can overthink yourself—
"You made a reservation?" You ask, peaking above the menu.
Sukuna raises his eyes toward you, a brow too high to be anything else but judging you.
"Yeah, gotta eat, right?" He says simply. Like it's as clear as day.
You blink at him.
Part because you'd expected another answer.
Part because you didn't except any other kind of answer.
"Right," You nod, lowering your menu to actually look at it this time.
After the orders are placed, you asked him questions instead of falling into an awkwardness.
"What's the design on your hat?" You ask him trying to act as "normal" as you can.
He seems to think for a second, like he forgot what he had on his head. "That's the shop I work at, tattoos." He explains, again so matter-of-fact manner.
Inside, you're much less calm and collected.
You're more like giggling and kicking your feet like a stupid school girl in front of an idol.
But as the meal went on, the discussion flowed easier.
Just like when you first met him.
You attempted at more personal questions like his work, his tattoos without it feeling like an interrogation.
When you're both done with your food, the waitress picks up the plates and asks how many checks.
You lift your hand holding two fingers up.
But apparently Sukuna had other plans—
"One." He says looking at the waitress, his tone made no room for arguing.
The woman flashes a gentle smile at you before leaving the table.
"You don't have to pay, Sukuna."
"I know, I invited you." He says like those few words explain everything.
You debate with yourself for a few seconds, sipping the last of your drink when the dots seem to connect in your brain.
You slowly turn your head toward him, eyes wide before narrowing them in suspicion.
"Is this a date?" You ask, trying to act calm while your heart is hammering against your ribcage.
"Would it make a difference?" He asks, leaning in putting his elbows down on the table. His biceps making the fabric of his shirt sleeve stretch like the seams will soon give out.
You tilt your head up at him. Assessing his stance, his attitude.
And you get that same feeling from when you first met him. He feels like a flame, like something forbidden, like something you feel will hurt but you can't help but feel drawn to it.
And he's probably right, knowing or not if he treated it like a date didn't change anything right now. You would've asked the same questions, dressed the same.
"No, not for now." You answer, a small smirk growing on your lips.
Sukuna leans back in his chair, studying your answer like he's turning it over in his mind.
After the little paper bracelet is attached to your wrists, you enter the "floor" door of the venue. Hundreds of people already at the gate and front of the stage.
That's not necessarily where you want to be tonight.
After talking with Sukuna, you both agreed that the best spot on the floor for a concert is either in the middle with all the action or the back where you can move freely.
So you walk toward the rest of sea of people, bumping your head to the music that's playing in the venue while everyone waits for the show to start.
The song is something pop, something mainstream, then a classic rock that everyone in the arena seems to know.
People have started to gather around you and Sukuna but that's to be expected with a sold-out concert.
Sukuna stands behind you like your personnal security guard.
Tall,
back straight,
scanning the crowd,
arms crossed over his chest.
The only thing that made it look like he isn't an undercover cop are the piercings, the absurd amount of tattoos and his backward hat.
While Sukuna looked like the meanest Doberman, you're shaking your shoulders to the beat, singing softly under your breath, keeping your voice for later. Just like a happy little kitten.
Happy,
joyful,
but clearly in your bubble and glaring at people who were brushing past you too roughly without a "sorry".
Then—
The show starts.
The house lights go out.
The colorful stage lights come on.
You raise both arms in the air, screaming along with the crowd.
The sea of people move forward, suddenly trying to get closer to the stage.
You take a few steps forward and glance behind you to see if Sukuna is following you.
A large hand settles on your shoulder so that you don't get separated.
The second you stop and decide on a spot in the crowd, Sukuna closes the distance and stands behind you.
There's no "polite" distance in a crowd as big as this, you understood the risks when buying that kind of ticket.
You thank yourself that you have Sukuna behind you, this close, instead of a complete stranger.
The show is in full motion.
Song after song.
Singing chorus at the top of your lungs because they mean something to you.
Headbanging your head to the beat of the drum because that's a tomorrow you problem.
Jumping in your spot when the rhythm sinks into your skin. Like you need to evacuate the energy out of your veins, into your feet stomping on the floor.
Then—
the band starts the intro of one of their heavier songs. Following them on social media and "studying" them like you did, you know what's coming...
"ALL RIGHT MOTHERFUCKERS! LET'S SPLIT THE FLOOR!" The singer orders into the mic.
Instantly, the same large hand holds your shoulder and guides you to the side where the rest of the crowd gathers, preparing for a wall of death.
You've seen it online, you always thought it looked cool.
Still didn't want to take part in it.
You let yourself be guided by Sukuna like a ragdoll.
Then—
Something lands on your head.
His hat, still backwards on your head.
His hand securing it on your head.
You look up at Sukuna.
His pink hair even messier than when you first met him.
Slightly damp from the heat and sweat caused by the concert.
"I'll find you." He says looking down at you over the guitar riffs. A cocky smirk playing on his lips while you look up at him with a mix of surprise and excitement radiating from you.
The only answer you find is to flash him a smile before he turns and disappears into the crowd.
That damn guy leaving you speechless in the middle of a concert for the second time.
Your eyes follow him until you can't. Clearly making his way toward the edge of the wall of death.
You kind of feel bad for the person who will come face to face with this giant.
You turn your attention back to the band, the song, the beat.
To everything that makes your soul feel that much lighter.
But when you jump, you hold the cap on top of your head with one hand since it's slightly floating on you.
By the end of the song after the wall of death, a presence had made it's way back behind you. You glance up at Sukuna with a wide grin.
He mirrors the grin with slightly more restrain than yours, taking his cap from you, putting it back onto his head.
Silent,
automatic,
like things have always been this way.
The band says their goodbyes, raising their instruments up like a tribute. Big tattooed guys sending kisses to a crowd full of misfits.
The scene funny in the most wholesome way, always made your heart pinch.
Part because you're glad to be part of something that feels bigger than yourself.
Another part because it means that real life is coming back at you in the morning.
But right now, the night still buzz of adrenaline.
When the house lights comes back on once again, the sea of people starts to make their way toward the exit.
You turn only to be met with a Sukuna who quickly hold your hand in his large one. Short black polished fingers closing in on your skin in a solid grip.
Not hurtful,
but definitely something you can rely on.
"Hold on." He says close to your temple, his voice vibrating against your damaged eardrum. Nonetheless, you understand perfectly what he means and you do as he says.
♡ ︎♡ ︎♡ ︎ Sukuna's POV ♡ ︎♡ ︎♡ ︎
People are packed, like cows to fucking slaughter.
He wouldn't have of missed the show for anything, but the aftermath of sweaty people?
Sukuna makes his way toward the exit, scanning the crowd for any drunks who'd get too close to them.
Her hand feels soft, her fingers closing in on his without feeling like a chain.
He cracks his neck, shaking the feeling away.
Like he's trying not to think about it.
Once outside, the cold air hits the glistening skin. Y/N lets out a deep breath behind him.
They may be outside but most people take the train too. He doesn't let go of her hand just yet.
But instead of following behind him, Y/N slightly speeds up her steps to match his and walks by his side.
He glances at her for a second.
She almost jumps with every step she takes, murmuring lyrics under her breath, looking up at the stars in the sky. Walking in comfortable silence.
She looks fully...free,
unbothered,
light as a feather.
He huffs through his nose.
Secretly hoping she didn't notice it.
The train is packed, same as the other concert. Sukuna guides her so that he's standing between her and the crowd of passenger.
Only then he lets go of her hand.
Reluctantly?
He'll pay attention to that later, or never.
During the ride, she started talking again.
Like he's been waiting for her to come down from an invisible higher state.
As the train moved forward, the more people left the cabin.
Sukuna remembered the stop she got off last time.
He knows it's coming.
And somehow he wants it to be longer.
"I'll walk you home." He blurts out, observing her reaction.
Her brows raise upward, "That's out of your way."
"Not what I said." He answers, now wondering if he came on too strong. "Unless you don't want to." he adds quickly.
"No, no. More like you don't have to." She says shaking her head, her eyes looking at him in a way that was almost unknown to him.
Not uncomfortable, just foreign.
But he rolls his eyes at her excuse and turns toward the doors of the train to get off at her station.
The conversation flows smoothly between different topics.
For once, he doesn't feel forced into small talk that seems useless.
Sukuna had surprised himself actually laughing and smiling a couple times since he met her.
Soon enough, they stop in front of her apartment building door.
She turns and looks up at him, she's either blushing or it's the lighting...
"Well, see you at the next concert I guess..." She says, her smile is small but it feels honest.
"Or you can come visit the shop. Got someone for piercings," Sukuna says observing her. Taking his time like he's observing a painting in a museum. "I think an helix would look good on you."
Again, it's either the light playing tricks on him or her eyes seems to illuminate at his words.
"Yeah, maybe I'll do that." She says, her keys in hand.
Sukuna takes it as his cue to leave. He takes a step back away from her door.
She turns to him before putting the key in.
"Don't be a stranger, Sukuna." She says.
"Wasn't planning to." He smirks at her. Hands in his pockets before she disappears into her building.
Only then Sukuna fully leaves, getting a cigarette out of his pack, lighting it up between his palms.
He walks home that night.
Not minding the long walk at all.
He spends that time thinking about the whole evening. How she seemed to follow with complete trust.
How adorable she looked with his cap on.
How she danced so close to him without ever feeling like she was trying to impress him.
She did the same at the first concert, swaying her hips to the beat, jumping and singing like she's the one on stage.
Somehow, he didn't feel like she was trying too hard or seeking his attention, only that she was giving back the same energy as the band.
And that—
that is something he respects.
Sukuna never expected to meet someone at a concert.
But the clueless girl that was stuck in a moshpit ended up being someone making his brain buzz as much as ear damage.
♡ oh how i need art of backward hat Sukuna or metalhead Sukuna ♡
♡ Whether it's music, writing or fucking, let's do it passionately ➺ masterlist
