Finally picked up where i left off w good girls and oh my god i forgot how much i love this show?!? The episode when she meets his family had me screaming i am unfortunately one of the people deeply affected by mr get in the car elizabeth
Finally picked up where i left off w good girls and oh my god i forgot how much i love this show?!? The episode when she meets his family had me screaming i am unfortunately one of the people deeply affected by mr get in the car elizabeth
Archaeologists in Kyoto have unearthed a sealed lacquer box from the early Heian period, tucked behind a collapsed shrine wall. Housing dozens of silk-bound scrolls inside, written in an alarmingly passionate hand. The team expects political intrigue, poetic philosophy – perhaps even religious text. Something to better understand modern humanity’s predecessors.
What they find instead is.. well.
Your scent lingers like sweet balm to the weary soul, salving my skin with saccharine lace and gossamer ribbon. Were I some less honorable being, I will have willed myself homebound, to embrace and consume you whole beneath pale moonlight.
It has been a fortnight since you last wrote.
Do you intend to kill me thus, woman? Word by word withheld?
Send me a lock of your hair. Better yet a cut of cloth from your undergarments, for your weary king to behold. To wrap around his sword hilt, that every death may whisper tender of your name.
How strange the enemy, to write more often than my own wife. I shall be better off to assume affection from their corpse.
I am not a monk, woman.
Your husband returns. Do not bathe.
Experts are divided as to whether or not to classify the findings as early examples of love letters, war correspondence, or psychological warfare. A proud professor with alabaster bedhead sums it up best at a press conference.
“We’ve discovered the Heian equivalent of sexting.”
As of this morning, a response has been identified among the scrolls, penned in a markedly steadier hand –
You are no more an honorable being than you are a mutt.
I shall love you longer should my hands not fall off first in clutch of this quill –
and by god, you are exhausting, Ryomen.
A/N: my roman empire is the way i lock in for historical stuff
track seventeen: the only exception | prev track< | setlist
love never lasts
synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens
pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna
content: mdni, angst, fighting, confrontations, HEAVY PINING, LOADS OF JEALOUSY, two men who both want us back bad, reminiscing/nostalgia, messy relationships, complicated feelings, emotional turmoil, reader repressing feelings, everyone trying to repair relationships lol, men begging, soft sukuna, kissing and making out
a/n: kuna art by @winterrbluess ! div by @/pommecita !
Suguru did the stupidest thing he could do.
Slipped his hand a little higher instead, fingers instinctively flexing, gripping your thigh tighter like he was trying to shield you from Sukuna. Who was almost immediately shoving him as hard as he could as far away from you as possible, slotting himself in the spot Suguru had just been in front of you on the counter.
You were probably gawking, grabbing Sukuna's shirt to hold him back like a leash before he could lose it. Suguru made some disgusted sound, a stunned huff, dark eyes squinting as his lips parted to protest.
"Can you get the hell away from my girl-"
"She's not your fucking girlfriend," Sukuna stopped Suguru before he could even finish his sentence.
"Come on, we were just talking," You tried to deescalate, but you could feel the tension just getting thicker, more stares on your back as you hopped off the counter to grab Sukuna's bicep, his muscles taut under your palm. You had too many drinks to deal with this. Your head was already fuzzy, chest too warm and only getting hotter when you were stuck between a forest fire and a furnace. "He was looking for Satoru."
"He was touching you." As if that was suddenly a crime now. As if he committed some grave atrocity by merely grazing his fingers against your skin when he used to put his dick inside you nearly every night.
"You're being kinda ridiculous." You did your best to make it sound light, like this could still somehow find its way into being friendly.
You looked over at Suguru, not even on purpose, just a lingering reflex of your own, and you could see the realization written all over his face.
It was way fucking worse than when he saw Satoru on that stage.
"It was him, wasn't it?" Suguru murmured, like Sukuna had crushed his lungs with just that single shove. "He's the guy. The one you used to fuck."
It wasn't a question. Not exactly an accusation. Just blunt understanding finally sinking in.
You couldn't breathe. Barely nodded.
"Suguru," You apologetically started.
He laughed. Hard and bitter, like he had just been let in on some joke.
"I should've known," Suguru said, and it was the softness in it that stung. You tried to step around your best friend, wanted to reach out, but he twisted to stop you. Wrapping a strong forearm around your waist to pull you back to him. Your ex boyfriend shook his head, jaw clenching shut as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Fuck."
"Look, it's not like," You swallowed hard, choking on some uncomfortable combination of guilt and embarrassment. "I tried to talk to you about it before-"
Before he broke both of you? Before you left him?
You didn't know which version you would've landed on before he bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed and it felt like your heart was too.
"Are you fucking him again?" Suguru asked, and you could feel how tense Sukuna's body went, how his fingers flexed as they sank into your side.
"If I was, it wouldn't be your business," You defensively said, only realizing after you said it that you accidentally confirmed that you weren't.
You only almost had sex with him again.
"Don't act like you give a fucking shit about her," Sukuna hissed, and you threw him an apprehensive glare. Begging him to shut up with just a silent look.
"And you do?" Suguru scoffed back at him.
"More than you ever could," He grumbled, and you tried to peel his fingers off of you to no avail.
You threw an exasperated look over to Satoru, lips pushed together in a pout. He was too busy glancing between idiot one and idiot two arguing over you to do anything remotely useful.
"If you actually loved her, you would've been with her years ago," Suguru pointed out, a sharp and broken edge to his voice that still cut you even now.
You despised that you couldn't dismiss what he said. That it wasn't all that wrong.
Would someone who had really been in love with you the whole time just treat you like a warm body for so long?
But if Suguru really loved you, wouldn't he have just said it?
"You're jealous," Sukuna accused, low and lethal. Still holding onto you like you were some trophy Suguru might try to snatch from him.
"You think I'm jealous? Of you?" Suguru wryly retorted, and you could feel the charge in the air, the match he was lighting before he even finished. "You couldn't even make her cum."
Jesus fucking Christ.
"What the fuck?"
Sukuna went completely stiff next to you, and you could hear the audible crack of his knuckles flexing into a fist. But then he was looking down at you, sharp stare searching yours just to find the answer he didn't want.
That was the problem with knowing someone.
It took him two seconds to see it in your face that Suguru was just echoing something you said.
"She was right, I guess," Suguru continued, a dangerously low drawl that bordered the line between your taunting and teasing. "You didn't notice, did you?"
"Suguru, stop it," You scolded, and he threw his hands up in the air as if he was done.
"I'm not sorry," He shrugged. "I just don't want to lose you. Especially not to a guy that can't even satisfy you. Who can't-"
"Can you guys-"
"Listen, asshole, I had her far before you ever did and-" Sukuna interrupted, letting go of you just to take another step forward closer to Suguru - but then your ex was scoffing again, cocking his head to the side like he was waiting for him to throw the first punch.
All of you trying to talk over each other, your stomach twisting nervously as the alcohol churned in your system.
"You interrupted her," Suguru interrupted him, and you wanted to hit both of them.
Was this how it went a couple years ago? The two of them trading verbal blows until it ended in real ones?
"You don't know her like I do," Sukuna said it like a threat. And from here, they looked almost evenly matched.
Sukuna was all burning rage, barely contained in his bulky frame, all harsh edges and sharp corners, veins bulging across his hands, his knuckles bone-white. Suguru was still cool, not-quite unbothered, hiding his own anger under a tight-lipped smirk, arms folded across his chest like it'd shield his heart from seeing Sukuna trying to stake his claim over you.
"I know what face she makes when she cums," Suguru casually hummed, letting the implication that Sukuna was clueless hang in the still-shrinking gap between them.
It happened in cut out flashes. Scattered blinks. Distorted sounds. Music and drunk whispers and loud laughter. And then - Sukuna's arm was in the air, fist raised.
You grabbed his bicep before he could pull it back, before it could actually connect. The muscles twitched and went tense underneath your palm, almost hitting you until he suddenly stopped.
Jolting as his jaw locked, glancing back at you with wildfire in his eyes. You'd seen that look before. Seen it on his face every time he got into a stupid bar fight or shoved whoever pissed him off down. But you'd never seen him tame it, try to tamper it down.
"We're fucking leaving," he grunted, pulling his arm free from your grip like he was planning on grabbing you again.
"I'm not finished talking to her," Suguru said, his hand snaking out, but you stepped away from both of them before they could turn you into some tug-of-war toy.
"I don't give a shit," Sukuna scoffed, but he didn't bother looking at him. His focus was still solely on you, but you couldn't read what he was thinking - where you stood with him when the ground you'd been on before was already shaky. Sinking into sand, separated by some still-growing crack.
You didn't know if you could still cross it. If it was over before it had began again.
"You had your chance," Suguru snarkily said.
"You had yours," He snarled back, and before you could process it - Suguru's fist connected with Sukuna's face.
Hard and fast, a flash of knuckles splitting skin as his head snapped to the side. You made a surprised squeak, all the air knocked out of you even when you weren't the one hit. Watching blood hit the kitchen tile, clinging onto Sukuna's shirt in an attempt to yank him back before Suguru could punch him again.
Someone else gasped, and you wondered if this was being recorded, if you'd see it on another stupid gossip site.
"Can we just fucking stop for a few seconds?" Satoru interrupted, slipping in the middle as Sukuna touched his bruised face. "You're going to stress out the baby."
You didn't think it could get worse.
But what else was Satoru good at?
"The what?" You balked, blinking and stepping back just for Sukuna's arm to slip around your waist again. But it was Suguru's stare you felt, dark eyes locking on your face while you struggled to focus on his best friend.
Any tiny sliver of calm he had left immediately dissolved, destroyed with just two sentences.
"You're pregnant?" Hurt. Disbelief. Even more hurt.
Pain packed so tightly in a handful of syllables that it pierced through you too.
"I am not pregnant," You tried to clarify, shaking your head like it would make this whole shitty situation go away.
"I saw the test," Satoru said, as if he was doing you a favor. Helping you come clean. Making it sound as if you shouldn't be scared of judgement or something equally stupid. "On your counter, I mean, I wasn't trying to snoop, but it was there and-"
"It was negative," You hissed at him, heat flooding your face as Sukuna tried to pull you against his chest, like he could sense your humiliation - knew what was gutting you under the surface. "You probably just saw the evap line."
Satoru blanched.
"The, uh, what?" He echoed. You cringed at his confusion, looking up almost helplessly at Suguru when the man he couldn't stand was holding you close. When everything that had ever existed between the two of you was being burned with every new word, every new line, ripped and shredded and turned into ash even when you thought you were fine living with the remains.
He didn't say anything, and you couldn't either.
Held hostage in the silence you shared, hollowed out by how wounded he looked. You wondered what was going on in his head - if he was picturing what his life would have looked like if you were pregnant. If he could rewind all the missteps and misunderstandings, where would the two of you be?
Would he want whatever a family with you would look like?
Mind Sukuna tagging along like a disgruntled uncle?
"Did you think she was pregnant this whole time, moron?" Sukuna grinded his molars as he turned to Satoru, rubbing his sore cheek and pulling you back.
Pulling you away from Suguru.
"Can I just get like ten minutes with him?" You muttered, snagging the hem of his shirt down to softly speak in his ear while you avoided how intensely his stare seemed to rake over your skin. Like someone had dropped hot coals in your stomach, barely able to even speak when you felt like you were about to be torn open.
You should let it go. Let Suguru go. Sukuna, too, if you had any sense.
Scrub yourself clean from both of them and try again with someone who wouldn't turn your heartache into a song.
But you were never good at doing what was good for you.
"What?" He growled. He didn't want to. Didn't want to give Suguru the opportunity to smooth it over, sweet talk you or steal you away again.
"Please?"
This new version of Sukuna, the one that swore he'd wait for you, couldn't tell you no. He wanted to. Was dying to.
But he was desperate to prove that he could be the better man between the two of him. Who wouldn't throw a punch. Who wasn't the same selfish dickhead you always pinned him as.
He let go of you like it was the hardest thing he ever had to do. Grabbed Satoru by the scruff of his shirt, dragged him back towards the kitchen, probably to put him back in a car back to the hotel like he promised before.
"Ten minutes."
You wondered if he'd drag you out the same way too if you took too long.
Leaving you in the kitchen with one last look, hard and heated as he held his tongue. You couldn't convince yourself to see what kind of face Suguru was making when you crossed your arms and shuffled on your feet.
"Why didn't you call me?" Suguru softly asked. It was funny, he almost didn't even sound like the same guy who was mocking Sukuna a few minutes ago. "Why didn't you say something-"
"Suguru, I just," You winced, stopping yourself before you could finish.
A feather-light touch grazed against your arm.
"I would have been there," He said, and you believed him. That was why you didn't tell him, wasn't it? You knew he'd waltz into your life and resume your relationship like nothing happened. "I want to be there."
"Even when we were together, when I needed you, you weren't there," You reminded him. Reminded yourself of how it felt at the end, how shitty it was to watch him walk out the door, to dismiss your worries just to turn his own against you.
"What do I have to do to be here for you now?" His hand settled on your forearm, trying to unfold it, desperate to touch you the same way Sukuna had. "Whatever you want, whatever it takes."
"Suguru," You whispered, and he winced like he knew what was coming. "I wish you hated me. It'd be easier if-"
"I don't hate you and I don't care about Sukuna," He insisted, trying to stall the inevitable. Trying to talk himself into believing what he was saying was true. "Baby, I don't care what happened with him, as long as we-"
"We're not together anymore," You murmured, shaking your head as it hung down.
"Are you with him?" His fingers dimpled your skin, and you felt your bottom lip quiver. Holding your breath as you debated on how to answer.
"He's still my best friend." But that wasn't quite right. Had never been the whole truth. Never captured what kind of hold he had on your heart after an entire life tangled and twisted together.
"Do you want to be with him?" Suguru sounded like his lungs were punctured, leaking hope with each lacerated syllable.
It was funny, he only changed a few words, and you were suddenly fumbling to figure out what the truth was.
"I don't know what I want."
Something suddenly pressed subtly underneath your chin, and then he was tilting your chin up to face him. His pretty face fixed on you, brows pinched together as his plain sincerity practically slapped you.
"If you ever decide it's me, you know where I'll be," He whispered. Another promise from another man who wanted a slice of your heart. Who said everything you wanted to hear when it was already too late.
"You-"
He leaned down, pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. Gentle lips leaving a phantom tattoo. It lasted a few seconds, long enough that you probably could've pulled away first, but you were stuck standing there, stunned under the weight of it.
Suguru pulled back first, and the lump in your throat seemed to double.
Fuck.
He couldn't make it easy for you. Couldn't make it simple.
Suguru had always been stable. Had been a guy you could lean on, who would understand and wipe away your tears before they could fall. He could shield you from storms, weather through them with you and keep you dry.
But Sukuna was the storm.
The thunder and the lightning that you always found yourself wrapped up in - who made every umbrella and rain boots look stupid when his rain just soaked you through anyway.
"He's waiting for you," Suguru breathed. He didn't need to say anything else for you to know he wished it was him out there - him you were leaving with.
"I'm sorry," You spoke softly as you stepped way from him.
Apologizing for not being able to accept his sentiments. Apologizing for things not ending the way you thought they would. For not being up front sooner, for everything ending up so fucked up.
"Me too."
You kept your head down as you navigated through the sweaty bodies of drunk party guests, ignoring the voices cutting through the loud music, the twinkling laughter that felt like broken glass against your back.
Everything inside you felt fucking awful. Tangled and torched, like you were being burned, throat constricting as the walls started to close in on you. Suffocating as you tried to squeeze through the crowd, struggling to keep yourself grounded, taped together with just the last few sober thoughts you could manage.
Suguru wasn't yours. You knew that already.
You just had to decide if you wanted Sukuna to be.
He was waiting by the front door, waving off some girl with an annoyed scowl before he caught sight of you stumbling through. It took him two seconds to get to you, exhaling hard as he grabbed your wrist. His cheek was bruised, probably going to swell where the skin had split, pink now - maybe purple in an hour or two.
His relief was mixed with apprehension. Like the next words that came out of your mouth would be a declaration of love - just not for him. But you only let him numbly tug you through the threshold, back into the night.
"Where's Satoru?" You mumbled, glancing around the other drunk idiots while they giggled and glided around, cigarettes passed to each other and drinks shared, only a few even bothering to look over at the two of you.
"Choso's taking him back to the hotel," he grumbled, glaring over his shoulder as if he expected Suguru to come out stumbling behind you. You blinked, wondering where he'd been - why you hadn't noticed him sooner.
Too much of a mess to even pay attention to what was going on outside of your own petty problems, you guessed.
"Oh, okay," You nodded, looking up at the night sky, the clouds hanging low, like the bottom might fall out. It reminded you another night - one that had ended in you leaving with Suguru instead of him. Where you asked him if he loved you and he was too scared of the answer to do anything except scoff.
He was leading you to a waiting taxi, opening the door for you to get in the backseat while he said something snarky to the driver as he got in after you. Slamming the door shut too hard and leaning over to fasten your seatbelt for you after you took too long to do it yourself.
For a second, you thought he might drop it. That he might be satisfied just by being the one to leave with you.
He wasn't.
"What the fuck was that in there?" His gravelly voice raked against you, and you flinched. Shoulders slumping forward as you picked at your cuticles.
"I'm sorry," You apologized for the second time tonight, leaning your forehead against the cool pane of the window. Closed your eyes as if it would end the coming conversation.
The tires crunched over gravel as the car pulled out onto the road, but you didn't feel all that grateful when you'd still have to endure twenty minutes of torment waiting to get back to the hotel.
Twenty minutes where you'd have to sit next to Sukuna and know that you hurt him too. It didn't matter how much he'd done the same to you before. How much history existed between the two of you, even if most of it messy and muddy.
"Was he telling the truth?" He demanded to know.
"About what?" You played dumb, but you were biting your lip, chewing on it as if he couldn't fucking tell.
"Us," Sukuna brutally said, half-scoffing at the end. He made a single word sound like it was being ripped from the back of his throat.
"Are you going to be mad at me if I say yeah?" You whispered the question, voice pitchy and awkward. You wished you'd turned down the last drink, or well, turned down the entire invitation to tonight. Maybe this whole trip.
Told Sukuna you didn't want to come - that you couldn't be whoever he wanted you to be. You weren't the same girl you were before.
The one who could just fuck him and force a smile like she hadn't fallen for him years ago. You didn't just want sex. You didn't want just want some emotionally constipated asshole who was only concerned with if his dick got wet and pushed you away when you got close.
Sure, Sukuna changed. You could see it in the way he spoke to you, in how he acted. But you couldn't shake the feeling this was still a wreck waiting to happen.
You were damaged - and Sukuna had simply never been delicate with anything. You had no idea if he could handle you without devastating you completely.
"So it was?" He scoffed, and you shrugged a little, sniffling and rubbing your nose. "When?"
"The last time we had sex," You quietly answered. There was the click of his own seatbelt - and suddenly he shuffled next to you, taking up all of the middle seat and half the next one as his leg suddenly pressed hard into yours.
Despite his anger, despite the betrayal in his tone, his hand still settled on top of your thigh.
There wasn't enough air in the car. Your lungs strained, struggling to keep your lungs filled. It struck you right as his thick fingers squeezed your thighs that there wasn't enough space you could ever put between you that he wouldn't find a way through.
"But you-"
"I faked it," You explained, unable to even glance over to see how exactly he felt about that.
"And you told him?" The noise he made, too low, too raw, practically stabbed you.
"I never said your name," You defensively huffed, automatically looking up at him with pleading in your eyes. "It was stupid, okay? I just needed someone to vent to. It was the night of that stupid party when we fought and my car broke down and you didn't answer my call-"
"If you just had told me, fuck," He cursed, lips pressing together in a tight line. "God, I would do fucking anything for you."
"Back then you couldn't even tell me that you loved me," You softly remarked.
This time though?
He didn't hesitate.
"I love you," He breathed. "I love you so much it fucking hurts. It kills me every goddamn day that I lost you. That I'm not good enough for you and I never will be, okay? I wake up every morning wishing you were there and-"
You cut off his rambling with a heated kiss, your hands in his hair as you leaned across the seat to shut him up.
He kissed you back twice as hard, immediately returning it with fevered urgency, and you could almost taste how terrified he was that you would call this off. That you would change your mind and tell him to stop.
Your wrists crossed behind his neck as your fingers sifted through his soft strands of silky hair, but he just grabbed a fistful of yours instead, wrapping you up in his body heat. Your head thumped softly against the glass with the force of his next kiss, but he just cradled you closer, until he was practically in your seat. Sandwiched between the car door and his bulky body
Seat belt straining awkwardly across your chest as his tongue slipped between your naturally parting lips, swallowing the soft scoff that left his throat.
"Please tell me you're mine," He murmured when he came up for air, still peppering your face with more kisses. "Make me beg or call me a bitch. Just pick me."
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❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]
❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞
❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. self-loathing. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). medical content. minor descriptions of wounds. tags will be updated as series continues.
❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.
❦ words ; 30.1k.
main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon
The world seems to tilt on its head in an instant.
Perjury.
Luckily, the world only felt as though it was tilting. Sukuna actually managed to stay upright as the incoming feeling of nausea gradually passes. He clutches the two birth certificates within his hands, his grip tightening as he gets his bearings.
There’s a noticeable shift in the room as the dust (and Sukuna’s stomach) settles on the revelation and the oldest of Jin’s sons regains some sort of sense of self.
He shifts the birth certificates into one hand, his chest feeling lighter than ever as he reaches out with his free hand to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against him. You let out a small surprised gasp as he holds you closely to his chest, his chin resting atop your head. You can feel his heart racing beneath your ear as your arms snake around his waist.
“Fuck,” he breathes, equally as unstable as his last twenty-four hours have been.
You try to shift to get a better view of him, but before you can, his grip strengthens. There’s a subtle tremor to his muscles as they flex under the demand of his embrace of you, but you don’t dare point it out. Not when the world falls away and for a moment it’s just you and him. You give him a reassuring squeeze, content to just exist in his world and help pick up whatever pieces he can’t on his own.
With a final deep breath, he releases you, exhausted crimson eyes flickering across your face. For all the weariness drawn into his features like a sketch, there’s equal parts renewed determination woven between the lines.
With life breathed back into him, he stares down at the birth certificates in his hand and immediately takes action. With Satoru and Toji still seated in his living room and privy to the new information about his court case (lord knows those two nosy men were listening in), they offer their resources as well.
To your surprise, Sukuna accepts it without much fanfare. Well, apart from the huff that you’re certain was that strange dignity of being completely self-sufficient that he clings to leaving his body. Either way, he can’t deny how helpful it is to be able to make use of Satoru’s wide network of connections, even if it comes at the cost of giving Satoru a vague and lazy run-down of the situation he’s going through with his brothers. He does grieve the lack of privacy from the lackadaisical man, but it’s a small price to pay to keep his promise to his brothers.
He has his lawyer on the phone in an instant as well, going over the new evidence as she immediately makes a move to file for an appeal, filing for an expedited process with the evidence of the kids’ very obvious distress in the photos from SXSW. You all lean in to listen as she notes that if the expedited process is accepted, things could go down quickly and they need to move fast.
Where the real issue comes in, you realize quickly, is the money. Sukuna’s pride is so deeply ingrained into him when it comes to money that it’s the one thing he just won’t budge on.
“Is this the latest invoice for the lawyer?” Satoru queries, slipping a sheet of paper out from under Sukuna’s elbow.
He pushes a hand through long pink tresses, his expression hardening. “Yeah.”
“Is it paid?”
Clearly already exasperated, Sukuna brings a hand up to his shoulder, pressing down on the muscles in an effort to ease his own tension. “It’s on a payment plan,” he grumbles, cocking his head to the side as he presses down harder on his muscle.
“Why don’t you have them send the next one to me, and-”
“No.” His hand drops, gaze flashing with something indignant as he fixes Satoru with a stare that could level a mountain.
“Alright, alright,” the white-haired man relents, putting his hands up in defeat. “Look, I’m just trying to-”
“Whatever you’re trying to do, stop.” Sukuna hisses.
You exchange a glance with Satoru, who inhales sharply, scratching at the back of his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” he sighs as Sukuna not-so-subtly passes along the reminder that they aren’t friends. Still, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have a point.
Toji, on the same page as Satoru, pipes in. “The hell’re you gonna do, then?” He queries with a blunt tone. “Rent’s overdue n’ lawyers aren’t exactly free.”
“Some are,” Sukuna huffs childishly, ignoring the fact that all three of you are nosy as hell to know his rent’s overdue.
Toji’s jaw slacks, his lip curling in disbelief as he narrows his eyes at the grown man’s child-like response. “Ryomen. Is your fuckin’ lawyer free?”
“No.”
“Then what the fuck’re you bringin’ that up for?” He shrugs exaggeratedly.
Sukuna’s silent under the realization of his petty reply. He sits at the kitchen table silently as he contemplates how exactly he can come up with the money before any deadlines roll around. “Just-” he sighs heavily, pressing his thumbs into his temples. “Give me a sec.” Pushing up from the table, he pulls his old engraved lighter from his pocket, throwing a nearby drawer open to grab a box of cigarettes before disappearing out to the balcony.
Leaning on your palm, you let out a breath, exhaling the tension from your body as you slump down on the kitchen table.
The silence is somewhat of a relief after the revelation that there’s hope at last for Sukuna, even if it means throwing your scholarship out the window. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You can take a year to earn some money, go back later… you’ll figure it out. You can’t be bothered to worry about your scholarship when it’s at the expense of two terrified little boys.
The still air is broken only by Satoru, who’s leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. “You okay? You haven’t been to any of my parties in ages.”
“I’m alright,” you smile gratefully. “There’s just a lot going on,” you chuckle, brushing him off as you cast a glance at Sukuna, leaning over the balcony with smoke trailing skyward from his fingers.
“Did you manage to get your grades up?”
You nod. “Yeah, Kento had a friend in my class who helped with a presentation I missed,” you explain. “They saved my ass.”
“Sweet,” he grins. “Guess life is getting back on track.” He relaxes back into his chair, his arms crossed behind his head as he pushes the chair back to balance precariously on two legs. You can only shoot him a tight-lipped smile and hope he’s right.
With a teeth-grinding screech, the door to the balcony slides open and shut as Sukuna returns, the smell of smoke and rain billowing behind him as he takes a seat again. Running his hands over his face again, he shakes his head to reorient himself. “I’ll ask for an advance at work,” he decides gruffly.
“You know, I can just-” Satoru tries again, only to be fixed with a look that could kill. He cuts himself off again as Toji nudges his foot beneath the table. Biting his tongue, Satoru simply nods. “You think they’ll give it to you? You’ve only been there a couple of months, right?”
Sukuna examines Satoru for a moment before slowly inhaling. He nods, leaning his head to either side to crack his neck. “Yeah, they’re good for that sorta shit. I can pick up some shifts at the-” He pauses, shutting his eyes as he realizes that avenue is closed to him right now given the incident that left him with an unfortunate reminder of his mistake. “Shit,” he mutters, mindlessly reaching up to run a finger up his scar, still fresh from earlier in the week.
“Maybe you can do some overtime? You were off for a bit anyway, right?”
“Maybe,” he mumbles, “I can handle the cash part, though. It’ll be fine.”
You cast him a doubtful look, but he seems confident, and that’s good enough for you. Particularly as he looks up across the table to the list the four of you had managed to compile of people to reach out to, contacts that Satoru was calling in favors from, and strict deadlines for publications hardly forty-eight hours from now.
With plenty for Sukuna to do, Satoru and Toji decide to take their leave, with you shortly behind them.
Sukuna stops you before you can head out the door, catching you at the front entry of his apartment. “Hey.”
Your brow raises as you spin around, tilting your head in that way that makes his heart melt every time. He knows he’s weak when it comes to his brothers, but that little quirk of yours could very well tilt his whole world on its axis.
Hell, it has.
You have.
He runs his tongue across his lower lip as he feels heat rising to the back of his neck. “Thanks.” His voice is low, with a husky timbre that forces you to shuffle in place as you feel your heart palpitate for a moment.
“It’s nothing, really,” you offer him a genuine smile, an air of shyness surrounding you at his earnestness.
“It’s not nothing. I was…” he shakes his head, something between a scoff and a wry laugh parting his lips. “I was a dick.” Tight-lipped, the admission feels familiar to one of the first times you had a similar conversation in this same spot, many months ago. “I wasn’t in a good place and I made some really fuckin’ stupid choices and you-” he waves a hand through the air, motioning to just… you. “So, thanks. For covering for my ass, the birth certificate… I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. Just go win.”
It’s not quite a smile that he shoots you, but it’s real, and it’s him.
–
“I think my parents are expecting me to bring someone to their anniversary party,” Shoko sighs, staring at the nutritional facts on the energy drink in her hand. She twists it thoughtfully as though the ingredients aren’t sugar and a lack of sleep.
You move a step forward as the line in the corner store gradually shortens, tilting your head at her in the early afternoon the day following the perjury revelation. “A date?”
“Yeah,” she sighs, her head falling back to stare at the ceiling. “I may have told them I was seeing someone.”
“Shoko!” You laugh, taking another step forward as the poor cashier works as quickly as they can under the dim fluorescent lighting of the dingy store. “Why would you tell them that?”
“They were threatening to set me up with someone! What was I supposed to do?” She insists with a shrug. “Do you think that cute girl from History last semester would say yes if I asked her out?”
“Sho, you can’t bring her to your parents’ house for a first date.”
“Could be a funny story,” she shrugs with a sigh, turning towards the magazine rack. “Oh my god, wait-” she breathes suddenly, leaning forward to pull out a magazine just barely hidden in the second row. Sure enough, within her palms is a copy of some celebrity magazine, plastered with the face of your friend.
How terrifying that it’s hardly been a full day.
Things had moved fast since yesterday, startlingly so, and Sukuna was quickly plastered on every news site. It’s hard to avoid seeing his face everywhere, each interview settling like a stone in your gut as you’re forced to see the public’s reaction. It’s positive more often than not, but it’s hard to avoid those that will defend Noritoshi Kamo to the grave for… some unknown reason.
You try not to let their comments get to you, but… it gets increasingly harder to read grown men defending Noritoshi and Kaori as though they’re some sort of saints.
That’s not to mention the fact that just about everyone on campus knows who Sukuna is. He’s not a man with a reputation for no reason, and the widespread gossip all leads straight to you and your friends. Stray looks at Toji, Uraume, Atsuya, and yourself do you no favors as you cower into the shadows between classes just to avoid the prying eyes. It’s not as if you’re about to divulge the information they seem to be seeking, anyway.
Still, something about seeing the story printed physically hits differently. Sukuna looks good on the cover, better than he has in a long time in the new photo. His eyes shine with determination and although his confidence is shaky at best, he wears an air of fake conviction well. He doesn’t look quite so gaunt anymore and his haircut was long-overdue, although some part of you liked the look of longer hair on him.
Still, you find yourself frowning. There’s no chance in hell that Sukuna let someone near him with makeup, so the photo has to be touched up. It’s not that he looks bad by any means, but he wears the evidence of the past few months more than ever lately.
Sukuna never can just be himself.
He’s always something. The bad boy, the perfect guardian, the underdog of the year.
Never just Sukuna.
But this is better than whatever he’d become, a shell of his former self who couldn’t bear the weight of his negative thoughts, turning to whatever could numb him like a quick dose of novocaine. It’s not ideal, but it’s progress, and you’re grateful for that.
Shoko flips through the magazine as you wait for the line to clear, skimming the contents for any new details outside of the digital article that had circulated quietly across campus, though each article is the same. Heavily mediated by Sukuna’s lawyer and sent for approval before being released, they’re all combed of any details that would make your friend look bad. Which, realistically, is important for a man whose vocabulary consist of ‘fuck’ at least once every three sentences.
“Has the step-monster said anything yet?”
“Not yet,” you shake your head as she sets the magazine back on the rack.
“What about the appeal?”
“I got a text from him like an hour ago that it’s headed to the Appeals Court and the rush request thing was accepted too. He said he won’t be there for the appeal, but if the retrial is accepted, it should be in a week or two if his lawyer gets her way.”
“What a fucking shitshow,” she sighs, placing her energy drink atop the counter finally as she has the cashier grab a box of smokes for her, paying for your drink too, despite your protests before leading the way out the door. “How’s Sukuna handling being on the front page of Twitter?”
It was bound to happen given Noritoshi’s status, but… “I mean, I think he knew he’d go viral for a bit,” you shrug. “I’ll have to see tomorrow at work.”
“Did you see the headline on that one this morning? ‘Scandal in the Kamo Household?!’ That’s so… eugh,” she rolls her eyes. “They’re making it sound like celebrity drama and not a real person’s life.”
You cast a glance back towards the corner store, cocking your head in thought. “I think he only did a few interviews, there’s no way his lawyer allowed that,” you murmur thoughtfully. “They must just be hopping on the train for the sake of clicks.”
“I saw one last night where all the comments were just talking about him being hot when one of the articles had a photo taken from his Instagram,” she grimaces, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the concept. “Imagine focusing on that with all the headlines he’s making right now.”
You can’t manage an answer as your stomach churns, unable to settle between your own disgust and a simmering jealousy that settled within your very marrow when you spotted similar comments.
Your best friend eyes the way you shift, her expression softening. “Hey,” she nudges your shoulder as she rests a cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you need to compete with people thirst-tweeting after Sukuna.”
“I’m not-” you let out a breath at the realization of how silly it really is. Sukuna may be well-known across your campus for his reputation, but it’s just as surface-level as each of these articles is. He doesn’t care for the attention and he doesn’t let people in.
“Besides, he’d probably scare them off with his RBF if they ever actually met him,” she snorts, pulling out a lighter.
“Sho.”
“What?” She asks, muffled as she pauses momentarily to light the dart. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she starts, pulling the cigarette from her lips as she exhales smoke over your head. “Did you forget how he ignored you for like three weeks straight when you first met? Or the arguments you were having every other week because he was being a prick?”
“He apologized for all of that!”
“I know, I don’t hold it against him anymore but that’s not the point. The point is that he chose to let you in. You really think he’d care about what anyone outside of his circles thinks?” Ash falls beneath her feet as she swings her hand out dramatically. “He’s pretty cold outside of our group.”
“You’ve got a point,” you murmur, watching your footfalls across the concrete below.
“Yeah yeah, I always do,” she grins, waving you off. “I still can’t believe you found out the step-monster committed perjury. Did Sukuna never think to check?”
You shrug and shake your head at once. “I guess not. Toji grilled him for it, but when he asked Toji when his little cousin’s birthdays were, he could answer the day but not the years either. I guess he just saw the right day and didn’t think about the year.”
“Guess that makes sense. Not like he squeezed them out,” she agrees vulgarly.
You wrinkle your nose at her choice of words. “That’s one way to put it.”
Laughter finds her easily. “Still, pretty risky move to lie on a birth certificate.”
“It almost worked,” you point out.
“Key word ‘almost’.” She casually tilts her head to the side as a crow hops along the ground, investigating a pile of rotting food. “I can tell where Sukuna gets his overconfidence from.”
You crack a smile, following her gaze to the crow picking at scraps. It’s that overconfidence that you find yourself missing lately. It doesn’t look good on Kaori, but when Sukuna cracks a smug grin, a stray strand of hair falling over his forehead? It’s charming, in a very Sukuna sort of way.
If this plays out right, it’ll be good to see that look on him again.
–
As late spring prepares to welcome summer, the sun warms your skin when you hop off the bus and make your way into the office, you find yourself in a relatively cheerful mood. The light beaming through the windows illuminates the office in a golden glow, and it seems that sentiment is alight across the office as a low chatter drones across the open air.
You wonder if the office has been like this for a while and you just haven’t noticed, too caught up in your own stress. Then again, maybe this is just the effect that impending summer vacations has on the office. Shooting a smile at the receptionist, you barely get your bag down on the ground before Maya’s in your office.
“What did you do?” She asks with wide eyes as she bursts into the room in a flurry. You exchange a glance with Yuki, who you haven’t even had the opportunity to greet, as you attempt to decipher your boss’ distress.
Can you have one normal day at work? Or even in general?
“What do you mean?” Yuki speaks up.
“Not you.” Maya directs her attention your way. “You and Sukuna, what happened? What did you do?”
Oh. Oh shit.
You knew there was a chance you’d lose your job on top of your scholarship given Kamo Corp’s involvement in both, but having not heard anything yet, you’d thought you’d gotten lucky.
Sukuna, on the other hand, you had thought was safe given that he didn’t get the job through a scholarship. Sure, Kamo may have involvement of some sort with the publishing house, but you had assumed…
Shit.
“You and Sukuna, my office. Now.”
Your blood runs cold as you look back to Yuki for help, who’s at a complete and utter loss for what’s going on. “What did you do?” She whisper-yells, leaning across her desk. You open your mouth to reply but she’s quick to follow up with another question. “Oh my god, does this have to do with Sukuna being all over magazines?”
“Probably,” you groan, flinging your head back dramatically.
“God,” she breathes, shaking her head. “I can’t believe he was going through all of that. I had no idea. I couldn’t believe it was him when I saw his name everywhere. He’s so quiet, I just figured it had to be a relative or-”
“I gotta go,” you interrupt with a tight-lipped apologetic smile.
“Right! Sorry, good luck!”
As you slip from your office towards Sukuna’s, you knock urgently and slip in before he can say a word. Catching his attention, he looks up from whatever he’s working on and leans back in his chair, the long black sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Something you don’t recognize flashes in his eyes, but he wears an otherwise neutral expression.
“Maya asked for us.”
He drops his stylus to his desk, leaning forward on his elbows. “Don’t tell me that fucker owns this place or some shit.”
“I’m not sure,” you admit, worrying your lower lip between your teeth.
The air turns tense as Sukuna huffs out a breath from behind his hands as he palms his face. There’s an uncertainty holed and locked within the small office that he wouldn’t dare show around others, something meant only to be felt by you. “I can’t fuckin’ lose this job right now.”
“You won’t,” you assure him, though through the string that seems to tether you to one another, he feels the way you waver. He knows you need this job to graduate, just as he needs it to regain custody of his siblings.
“Fuck. Fuck!” He hisses lowly, pushing up from his desk in frustration.
His stylus is a victim to his sudden movements, sent flying from the surface of the desk and rattling across the ground. He stands ram-rod straight, completely still as he stares out the window. The tension in the air hangs unmoving, you fear even letting out a breath to disturb the air, when he whirls around suddenly with fire in his veins.
“How the fuck is she still finding ways to fuck me over? What does she get from this?” He rattles off questions with no concrete answers, dragging his hands through his recently cleaned up hair. “What the fuck did I even do to her? It’s not like my fuckin’ dad’s around to know she cheated, I don’t-” He balls his hands into fists at his sides as he seethes at Kaori’s constant involvement in his life. “Why can’t she just fuck off? I thought that was what she wanted in the first place,” he hisses, not searching for answers so much as just an outlet for his aggravation.
There isn’t an answer to any of it, not really. Still, you state what he already knows. “I don’t think it’s you. You’re just in the way of what she wants.”
He scoffs. “Was gonna say she’d probably kill me if it wasn’t illegal, but she’s above the law now, so-” he shrugs dramatically, his hands falling down to his sides with a plop!
“Don’t joke about that.” You fix him with a grimace, your brows drawn together as a crease forms where they stitch.
He sighs, letting his shoulders fall as he quietly observes your reaction. A modicum of his anger fades as he finds solace in your presence, before shaking his head. “Let’s just go talk to Maya,” he mumbles, breezing past you to lead the way to your boss’ office, somewhere he’s been too much lately for comfort.
The older woman’s long black hair is slightly mussed as proof of her running a hand through her hair with the stress of whatever it is that she has to discuss with the both of you. You quietly shut the door behind you, taking a seat in the chair beside Sukuna. His leg is bouncing before the conversation has even begun, though his expression is hardened, frustration pulling the corners of his lips down.
“What did you two do to get on Noritoshi Kamo’s bad side?” Maya begins in a lowered tone. Her eyes flit between the two of you, concern stitched between her brows.
Sukuna leans back, dragging a hand down his chin. “You haven’t heard?” He mutters, not in the most chatty mood.
“Heard?” Maya parrots in bewilderment.
Sighing, Sukuna frowns. “My step-mother took custody of my little brothers from me. I guess she’s married to that fuckin assho-” He bites his tongue, shooting you a scowl when you deliver a swift kick to his shin. “Sorry,” he mutters bitterly. “She’s married to him, and I just filed an appeal. She’s tryin’ to get me fired so that I have no cash if the appeal’s accepted. Looks bad on me to not have a job,” he explains grimly.
“Sukuna,” Maya breathes in empathetic disbelief, leaning back as she subconsciously searches for a photo of her own kids. “That’s what the letter you needed from me was for?”
He nods.
“And you lost them… so that’s why you stopped leaving at three?”
Another, slower, nod.
“And then when you started staying late… God. That explains a lot,” she murmurs. “Listen, the company’s board of directors called me in for an emergency meeting today. Which never happens, so I’m thinking it’s about the incident with Reggie, right?” She starts. You lean in, though you can tell where this is headed. “Well, one of our biggest investors is Kamo Investments, so one of their reps is on the board. He’s gotten it in the rest of the board’s heads that you two are a detriment to the company and need to be fired and I couldn’t figure out why,” she shakes her head, glancing to the side as her gaze finds the photo of her own children again.
“I didn’t even think about that…” you murmur more to yourself than either of your co-workers as you consider the repercussions of Sukuna’s very public attack on Kaori's character. “Um, the reason he thought you might have seen it already is because the news is pretty much everywhere,” you fill her in. “I saw it on the magazine rack in the front of the building.”
Maya takes a moment to internalize the news, her gaze tearing away from the photo. “I’m sorry you’re going through that right now,” she offers condolences. She inhales a slow, steady breath. “Look,” she begins, neatly clasping her hands in front of her. “I let the board know I would handle the issue once I’d spoken to the both of you. I-” she pauses, clearly stressed as she organizes her thoughts.
“I get it,” Sukuna shrugs. “Business comes first.” It comes out more bitterly than he intended, but given that his only other option is to crawl back to his boss at the auto shop, he isn’t exactly thrilled with the outcome.
“No- Hold on,” she holds her hands out in front of her, an intensely concentrated expression donning her features. “We’re not a publicly traded company so we have a lot more leeway when it comes to a moral issue like this. The rest of the board isn’t pleased with the association to Kamo Investments anyway given public perception and another investor is interested in buying out Kamo’s shares if she can. This could actually work in our favor if they agree.”
Sukuna blinks, somewhat taken aback to actually be defended for once, let alone by an employer he’s hardly been with for three months, let alone taking into consideration the issues he’s inadvertently caused. He searches for words, but finds himself at a loss for the whole situation.
“The board won’t have issues with that?” You query, trying to wrap your head around it yourself.
“Kamo Investments doesn’t align with the company’s visions or values. They were our first investor, but they’re not our primary investor anymore. Their rep stepped down from his position as president three years ago and our president hasn’t been happy with them for a while,” she explains, her jaw clenching as she explains the situation. “I think if I explain to the broader board the situation, we can work on a buyout.”
“And if they don’t agree?” You push.
Maya inhales slowly. “Well, we don’t have the legal grounds to force them out of their shares, but I think once I explain the situation to the board, we should have the grounds to make a call to vote them out of their seat on the board for a conflict of interest.”
While business isn’t exactly your area of expertise, it’s a relief to hear that things sound surprisingly like they’re actually in your favor.
“If you can send me whatever relevant information you can to sway the rest of the board, I’ll do everything I can to keep you both here. I can’t say I have any desire to try to replace Sukuna’s position again, and with Reggie gone, Yuki would be overworked without you,” Maya addresses the both of you with a laugh that sings the song of just how stressed she truly is. She’s handling everything you throw at her with grace and a surprising amount of care, but it’s still shocking to have her support in the face of something that could look bad on the company.
“What about the company’s reputation?” You ask, curious about her stance less as a concerned mother and more as a CEO.
She nods slowly. “We’re a small local startup. This won’t make waves, even if Sukuna’s plastered across every magazine. It also aligns more with our values to remove Kamo Investments from the board and support Sukuna. If anything, this will be seen as a strategic play by clients who align with our values, which is the majority of them.”
You lean back in your chair, equally as shocked as Sukuna seems, if his silent scowl is anything to go off of.
“I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll do what I can,” Maya assures you. She turns to you, addressing you by your name. “What’s going on with your scholarship? Don’t you have a Kamo scholarship?”
You wince at the minute detail you’ve kept from Sukuna over the past few weeks since the revelation of Kaori’s marriage.
Sukuna whips his head towards you, no longer sitting passively as he takes everything in. “What?”
You press your lips into a thin line. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” you keep your voice down as you reply to his barely-contained frustrated query. “I still have it for now. They haven’t said anything.”
“That’s good. Don’t let them pull the rug out from under you.”
You offer a tense smile to your boss, taking note of Sukuna’s knuckles turning white as he grips the armrest of his seat. “Thank you, Maya.”
Sukuna huffs, nodding slowly. “Thanks.” He takes a moment before coming to a realization, rubbing a thumb between his brows in exasperation. “Shit-” he mutters under his breath. You don’t dare nudge him this time now that the tension in his muscles is plain as day, rippling beneath the taut fabric of his shirt. “Is now a bad time to ask for an advance?”
Your boss purses her lips.
“I’m behind on payments to the lawyer,” he mutters, the admittance sending shame to his very core, gripping his bones.
“I-” she struggles to come up with an answer. “I’ll see what I can do, okay? Let me handle the board before I make any promises.”
Sukuna nods before the two of you are dismissed with empathetic well-wishes.
Before you can head back to your office, Sukuna is quickly dragging you back to his with a strong (albeit careful) grip on your wrist. He shuts the door on the way in, dropping your wrist in order to drag his hands over his face. “Your scholarship’s a Kamo one?” It comes out more as a statement than a question.
“It is, but what happens with that isn’t your fault,” you attempt to reassure him. It’s all for naught in the face of his frustration. He’s doing what he can to keep it at bay, but it’s clear that he’s struggling as he drags a hand down his face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hisses as he suppresses his frustration to the best of his ability.
“Because I can handle it myself,” you stand your ground, jaw tightening as you face his irritation.
“I got you into this mess, you need to fucking tell me this shit!” he retorts, harshly running a hand through his already-mussed locks.
“I have things under control and you have enough on your plate,” you reply calmly, though your own frustration is woven between your brows as they knit together.
“Under control?” He parrots, wild-eyed as he takes a step forward. “You’re gonna lose your fuckin’ scholarship because of me!”
“That’s not your fault.”
“If you would have just fuckin’ told me in the first place that you had a Kamo scholarship, then I-” he chokes on his words, scowling at a shelf of colorful books lining his office wall as he searches for a solution he’ll never find.
“Sukuna,” you grab his attention, taking a step towards him as his expression loosens from one of anger to concern. “You didn’t know she’s married to him. You couldn’t have done anything, even if you knew.”
His chest rises and falls heavily under the duress of his morning as he helplessly backs up until he’s able to lean his thighs against his desk in something of a half-seated position. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this shit,” he mutters from behind his hands as he tiredly rubs at the dark circles under his eyes.
Exhaling slowly, you take a step to stand in front of him with a sympathetic smile. Your hand finds his forearm, his skin warm to the touch beneath your palm as you soothe small circles into it. “I have support, Ryo. I can figure it out. It’s not the end of the world. I care more that you and your brothers are safe.”
His shoulders fall as sharp crimson irises soften, falling to stare at the point that connects you, where your touch feels like fire on his already-warm arm. His shoulders fall, tension dissipating with the realization that he’s helpless. There’s nothing he can do to protect you from the claws of his step-mother.
Yet, you’re still here. In the face of your own world falling apart, you’re smiling at him.
His gaze rises to examine the little gleam of hope in your eyes, waiting for a response as though he hung the damn moon in the sky, when he’s the one who tore it down. His heart can’t seem to decide whether to wrench in guilt or pound with adoration. That feeling certainly doesn’t subside as he shifts from one foot to another, shamelessly staring at your lips.
He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as his anger subsides. “‘M sorry,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “You’re right.”
You blink, somewhat surprised that the typically haughty man is giving in so quickly, his entire demeanor slumping into something akin to disappointment. Subconsciously, your thumb ceases its movement as you squeeze his forearm reassuringly. “I know things aren’t going perfectly, but my scholarship, this,” you motion broadly to the publishing house, “is good news. Kaori’s cracking under pressure.”
He nods slowly, his eyes finally rising from your lips, giving your racing pulse a break. “Right.” He lets the thought hang in the air between you, finding comfort in your presence. Letting out a breath, he leans back further on his desk as it creaks beneath his mass. There’s quiet contemplation boldly scrawled across his face, his lips parting as he searches the silence for an answer, only to break it. “Been thinkin’ about something,” he murmurs, his voice low as though he fears the office hearing.
You tilt your head questioningly.
He averts his eyes as his stomach flutters at the sight, keeping his focus on his looming question. “You ever thought about how Cho doesn’t really look like Yuji n’ I?”
You hum affirmatively, catching a glimpse of the twine bracelets still wrapped around Sukuna’s wrist. “I can kinda see a resemblance. He has your scowl,” you offer with a little smirk.
“Ha ha,” he dryly replies with a roll of his eyes before his lips pull down into a frown. “I’ve wondered since I found Kaori cheating when I was a kid…” he trails off, as if the thought is sour on his tongue. “If maybe Cho isn’t my dad’s.”
You squeeze his forearm again, considering the possibility yourself with a dour expression. It’s true that Choso doesn’t look like Jin in the same way that Yuji and Sukuna do, but he bears a very striking resemblance to Kaori and you can’t see a lot of Noritoshi in him either. At most, maybe his hair color could be attributed to Noritoshi given that both Yuji and Sukuna got Jin’s hair genes, but it’s the same color as Kaori’s as well, so it’s not a guarantee that he isn’t Jin’s either.
“Would it matter?” You ask finally.
“Hm?”
“Would it matter? If he wasn’t Jin’s?”
“Kaori could argue that Choso has no relation to me,” he points out grimly.
“I don’t think that would be smart for her. It’d be withheld information, bad faith, would prove she’d been cheating-” you shake your head. “There’s too many arguments in your favor.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“So would it matter to you? If Cho isn’t Jin’s?”
Sukuna doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “No.”
Your heart warms as you slide your hand from his forearm up his bicep as you give the muscle a little pat, keeping things lighthearted. “Then it doesn’t matter. He’s still your brother.”
Your friend scowls, but it’s laced with steely determination as he puts the thought behind him. “I promised him I’d fix this shit.”
“And you will,” you reassure him with a grin. “Kaori won’t know what hit her.”
–
The end of the week is a flurry of good and bad news, but the good vastly outweighs the bad. With each piece of news thrust Sukuna’s way, each text you receive with updates, there are moments where you can see the resilient man you’ve grown so fond of. Little moments of ‘fuck kaori i’m winning this shit’, only to be followed up a few hours later by ‘she better not pull some ridiculous bullshit like last time’.
It fluctuates moment-to-moment, but you’re just happy to be able to see him trying to glue his pieces back together, no matter how little progress he makes.
What matters most though, is that Maya managed to get him an advance, and his lawyer succeeded at the Court of Appeals. Due to the high-profile nature of the case now that Kaori is publicly involved with one of the wealthiest people in the world, a decision was made to have the children stay with Child Protective Services as the case heads back to a full trial. Regardless, his lawyer said there was no reason to worry at this point, and her confidence was doing wonders for Sukuna’s health, both physical and mental.
He was still scatter-brained and often distant, in his own little world more often than not, but with the trial looming over the horizon, he keeps himself as disciplined as he can manage on his tight schedule.
Sunday night prior to the retrial, you find yourself standing outside his building as the late afternoon sun sets, casting a pink glow across the concrete jungle. It’s something of a marvel, even deep within the apartment-heavy neighborhood. You smile to yourself as the sky shifts and changes with the flow of the light breeze and clouds overhead while the buzzer drones as you await Sukuna’s answer, only to find yourself blinking at his clipped reply.
“Fuck off,” comes an irritated grunt before the line cuts out entirely.
With pursed lips, you blink. Given that you’re showing up unannounced, who does he think you are?
You dial his apartment again, and his reply is immediate. “How many times do I need to tell you to-”
“Sukuna?”
“Princess?”
He sounds as shocked as you feel, and you can practically hear him sitting up on the other line as he scrambles through an apology.
“Shit, I swear I didn’t mean it. Thought you were someone else,” he quickly explains before the line cuts out as the door clicks unlocked.
Clutching a small gift bag tightly in your hands, you can’t help but wonder who he’s been telling to fuck off. Maybe Kaori’s been coming around, but you can’t imagine she wants much to do with Sukuna given that his face is already plastered on every street corner and she’ll be seeing plenty of him tomorrow in court.
He swings the door open like he was waiting inside for you, a scowl plastered on his face as he briefly takes in your appearance before searching past you. Perplexed, you follow his gaze, but there’s nothing and no one behind you. His weird behavior doesn’t stop either as he pulls you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder.
With the door shut behind you, his posture relaxes as he directs his attention to you with a mild expression.
Glancing at his hand on your shoulder, you face him with a shake of your head. “Are you okay? Who’s been showing up here?”
His hand slides from your shoulder as he shakes his head. “Some fuckin’ journalist. She saw me walking in on Friday and has been buzzing every few hours,” he explains. “Pain in my ass,” he tacks on in a mutter.
“Really? I know people know who you are now but I didn’t think you’d have anyone following you.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you shiver at the thought that Kaori might have stripped Sukuna of yet another thing he greatly values, his privacy.
What a snake.
He scoffs. “I guess she- or someone- found out about my reputation at the school,” he strains, jaw tightening. “She keeps showing up asking questions that I’m not fucking answering.”
Your nose wrinkles in disgust as a wordless reply.
“I know,” he agrees, sighing as he leads the way further into his apartment. “Didn’t mean to tell you to fuck off.”
“That’s fine,” you brush him off with an understanding smile. “I probably would have done the same.”
He grunts in acknowledgement, gaze downturned to the little gift bag in your hands. Glittery tissue paper pokes out of the top of the black and gold bag that you’re clutching close to yourself as you shuffle in anticipation.
“What’s that about?” He mutters, unintentionally coming across dry.
“It’s um-” you shuffle from one foot to another as Sukuna raises a brow. “- for you.”
He frowns, searching your expression for a reason.
“I just thought with the trial coming up tomorrow that it might be nice to- um-” you shake your head, a laugh bubbling up in your throat as you find yourself unusually nervous. It’s not like you’ve never given him a gift before, either, but Christmas felt different, easier. Like you didn’t need a reason. “I know it’s out of the blue, I just thought maybe it would be like… a good luck charm. Or something,” you explain in a ramble, chancing a glance up at him from under your lashes.
He’s still frowning, feeling undeserving of your kindness as you practically thrust the bag into his hands. He casts a glance at you as he lets out a breath, rustling through the glimmering tissue paper until he pulls out a maroon tie with subtle dark stripes. He swallows hard as his thumb glides easily over the material.
When he doesn’t immediately reply, you pipe in uncertainly to fill the air. “I thought it might go well with your black-on-black suit, and bring out your eyes.”
“Bring out my eyes?” He parrots with a hint of amusement as his scarred brow raises.
“Maybe that’s dumb, I don’t know,” you chuckle nervously more to yourself than him.
“I like it. Thanks, princess,” he assures you, still staring down at the material with something of a contemplative expression. His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath, his mouth going dry as he fights every instinct to hold you close and not let go.
He finally chances a glance up to you, the happy but nervous gleam in your eye sending his heart into a frenzy within his chest, battering at the cage like an animal let loose. With Satoru’s words from the other day echoing within his mind, it’s a lot easier to see just how stupid he really was to ever doubt that your blossoming friendship was just that- a friendship. You look at him like he shines so bright he could light the whole night sky when he’s done nothing but cause you problems and he thought you were just a really damn good friend.
But maybe that belief you have in him is enough. Maybe it’s that gleam in your eyes that means he can stand alongside you. He doesn’t care if he’s nothing more than a planet in your orbit so long as he can feel your warmth.
His eyes flicker down to your lips, curled up into a smile, shy in nature as you wait for a bigger reaction from him to your sweet little gift. The corner of his lip curls up into a sly smirk. “‘M gonna look like I’m in Green Day.”
You laugh, genuine and full. “I was thinking more like… Avril Lavigne in her Sk8er Boi days.”
“You’re comparing me to Avril Lavigne?” He asks, incredulous.
“Yeah, if I squint liiiiike-” you squint in demonstration to accentuate your point.
“Your eyes are closed,” he states dryly.
“Mhmm!”
Snorting, he shakes his head. “Brat.”
It’s been such a long time since you’ve heard him loosen up in such a way, since he’s so casually and easily joked around like this as he lightly flicks your forehead, that it lights up your whole world. You beam at him, thrilled to see such a reaction from him. It doesn’t matter how dark the circles beneath his eyes are, he looks handsome like this, with an easy smile plastered across his lips.
It makes your heart soar and you don’t bother catching it.
“Thanks, princess. Really.”
“Anytime!”
“You wanna come in?”
You nod brightly, slipping off your shoes as Sukuna heads to the fridge, setting the little gift bag aside. “Why’s this shit so glittery?” He mutters as he pulls his hands back from the bag and tissue paper, disdainful of the way his palms are now sparkling.
“It’s the only paper I had,” you smile innocently.
He grunts, pulling a bottle from the fridge as he hovers at the door. His black shirt is pulled taut with every minute movement of his toned chest when he twists to face you. “Want something?”
Tearing your gaze from his biceps, you nod. “Do you still keep that Iced Tea around that the kids liked?”
Sukuna smirks. “They don’t like it. I bought it for them to try and forgot about it in the fridge.”
Your gaze travels to the fridge where he’s pulling that very same Iced Tea from the back of the otherwise barren appliance. “Why do you keep buying it, then?”
“You like it.”
He says it so simply, like it’s nothing more than teasing banter between friends. His aloof expression returns as he hands you a glass, oblivious to the way your heart leaps into your throat and chokes you. “Thanks,” you whisper.
His gaze narrows slightly at your meekness, but he nods and turns back to his drink, popping the cap off on the edge of the counter. It flies up in the air, clattering in the sink. He doesn’t so much as cast it a glance before directing his attention back to you as he brings the bottle up to his lips.
“You’re drinking?”
The label along the dark bottle gleams under the glow of the kitchen light as Sukuna leads the way to his couch, plopping himself in the corner as he reclines into the cushions. “Just one,” he assures you, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards. “Promise.”
You nod. “Sorry. I don’t- I know you can handle yourself, I just-”
“It’s fine, princess. I know you’re just worried.”
You suck in a breath, nodding as you let the moment pass and take a seat beside him. You nurse the Iced Tea within your hands, the condensation cool against the pads of your fingers. “So, how are you feeling about tomorrow?”
He lets out a long sigh, breathing out whatever stress comes along with it. “If I never see Kaori again, it’ll be too soon,” he grumbles with a quick swig of his drink.
“I mean, it’ll be nice to be on the other end this time. She’s the one in the dark now.”
“Mm.”
Leaning back into the couch, you find yourself sliding closer to Sukuna under the divot of his weight, a warm heat climbing from the back of your neck at his close proximity. Some part of you figured after all of this time that your crush would paddle out, but time is telling a different tale.
“Do you feel ready, at least?”
Another swig. “Yeah. Sorta.” He twists the beer bottle within his hands, staring at the cheaply-made label that’s peeling at the corner. “Now that everything’s public, my lawyer was able to make a request for a background check into the judge panel.”
“Panel?”
He shrugs. “Guess there’s three now. Somethin’ about Noritoshi Kamo and the media being on our asses.”
“That’s good, right? There’s no way it won’t be fair now.”
He hums. “My lawyer seems confident.”
“And you?”
The former history major taps his pointer along the glass of his bottle, nursing the lager. “We called Cho to the stand.” His tone is low, his gaze fixed forward, staring straight ahead in that painfully familiar distant expression.
It doesn’t feel quite real to say he hasn’t seen his brothers in such a long time. Since the day Choso was born, he hasn’t been apart from them for any longer than one, maybe two days. As he got older, Choso loved to take Jin’s phone to text Sukuna during those days. Maybe that’s where the little boy had developed such dry texting habits, from his older brother.
“You don’t sound excited.”
His tongue swipes his lower lip. “I made him a promise to fix things. If I fuck up, the last thing he’ll see of me is…” He trails off. You’re right to assume he’s not all there, the strange sensation of dissociation clinging to his mind like a dog with a ball.
“Is what?” You push softly.
He blinks once, twice, but he’s still zoned out just enough to keep him hanging in the plane of another realm. He doesn’t have an answer to give you anyway. What is he meant to say? He looks nothing like the man he was when Choso promised to be brave and take care of Yuji. He’s pallid, lost some of his bulk, and has a stark and jagged scab extending from his forehead down to his cheek bone, although the latter portion is mostly healed. The mark on his forehead wasn’t quite as kind.
He doesn’t quite look the same. And he fears what his brother will think of that. Choso’s smart, far beyond his age. Forced to grow up too young, and with a keen sense that Sukuna lacks. He’s extremely in tune with the emotions of those around him, and very empathetic to them.
So for Choso to see Sukuna struggling over all of these years has been tough on him, but more than anything, the eldest brother knows that the facade he wears at the court won’t fool his little brother.
There’s layers upon layers of guilt to unpack when it comes to what the twelve-year-old has had to endure of Sukuna’s own tribulations over the years, but that’s not even what he fears most.
His little brother’s been in Kaori’s care for a month now. He’s been kept out of the limelight for the most part and the pink-haired man has concerns that there’s a reason behind the fact that he’s only seen the boys publicly once.
He’s not sure how easily he can face the reality that Choso’s mental health might have plummeted more.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” you murmur when you don’t receive an answer, snapping Sukuna out of his trance. His gaze travels slowly to his right, but he still seems to look right through you. Setting a hand on his calf seems to bring him back to reality as his pupils dilate for a split second before honing in on you. Now that you have his attention, you give his calf a light squeeze. “The ball’s in your court this time, Ryo. You’ve got this.”
He inhales deeply, throwing back more beer. “We’ll see.”
“I believe in you.”
His heart falters as he finds your sweet smile, caressing him in your warmth with only a hand on his leg.
You’re just like that.
How many times has he looked your way and watched you shine as though you’re the very sun? He remembers tripping over his own thoughts as he fought to process the seed planted in his mind that you might be someone that others revolve around. You don’t intend to be, you hardly like being the center of attention, but your gravity is effortless. You’re as bright as the sun and as beautiful as a damn galaxy, providing life and light for not just him, but his brothers too. You make it easier to breathe.
He supposes that’s why he’s found his confidence dwindling around you lately. He remembers how sweet you taste on his tongue with hints of cherry and rose infused into your lip gloss and he yearns so desperately for it. For as sure as he is that Satoru’s right- hell, even Toji agreed- he fears if he takes that leap that his luck might run out.
And he’s never exactly been a lucky guy.
He’s not what you deserve, and he wonders if that’s what falling for you means. Knowing that someone can be better than he can.
So why does it hurt so fucking bad?
He clears his throat, downing the rest of his beer and setting the bottle atop the wooden coffee table by his feet with a hollow knock. Leaning back into the cushions, he throws his arms over the back of the couch. His forearm brushes the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Cold?”
“No! No,” you chuckle. “Just thought of something.”
Sukuna doesn’t question you, letting his eyes close as his head falls against the back of the couch. “What’s up with your friend?”
“Who?”
“Uh… Suguru.”
“What about him?”
The brute’s eyes flicker open. “How the hell does he deal with Satoru all the time?”
“Oh, Suguru loves the drama that Satoru brings,” you laugh.
He eyes you from his peripherals. “We talkin’ about the same guy?”
“Oh yeah. He loves being able to be around the drama without being a part of the drama. He doesn’t really like people aside from us, but he loves knowing what’s up.”
“Mm.” He leans in and you have to swallow to keep his eye contact as carmine irises fix you with casual intrigue. “Guess I can understand that.”
“I know they can be a lot, especially Satoru, but they mean well. Satoru means well.”
He slumps back into the couch. “I appreciate what he did,” he replies simply, still wary of the frat boy.
“Have you at least thought about taking a loan from him?”
“No.” His tone is firm. You shuffle from one thigh to another as tension radiates from him. You can feel it practically burning your skin from how close you are. You attempt to scoot away just enough to leave a comfortable gap between you, but it’s tough when he’s on your cushion and it’s dipping down towards him. “I got the advance from Maya, I don’t need it.”
Although it’s a relief that Maya was able to pull some strings, you still wish he’d realize that accepting help from his community isn’t a sign of weakness. You can’t give him too tough of a time though when he’s come a long way and it’s just money he doesn’t seem to want to budge on. It’s respectable of him to want to provide for his family on his own terms.
“Did you ask any of your friends to come to the trial tomorrow?”
“Nah. Just you,” he replies, loosening up as the air shifts away from the tense question.
You cock your head to get a better view of him. His jaw shifts from side to side as he contemplates your question. “Don’t think I really have the right to ask ‘em to ditch school after everything I’ve put them all through.”
“They want to help, Ryo. Just like I do.”
“Mm, maybe, but you’re the only one who shows up at my door unannounced to ‘help’,” he retorts dryly, making air quotations with the hand that isn’t behind you.
In mock offense, you set your Iced Tea down, bringing a hand to your chest. “Are you saying I annoy you into letting me help you?”
“If the shoe fits,” he replies, eyeing you with a playful glint in his eye.
“Sukuna!”
He chuckles, shifting as he inadvertently leans closer. “Kidding, princess. You are a brat, though.” He chuckles lowly as his gaze warmly catches yours.
“And you’re a dick,” you tease, his laughter contagious despite being somewhat muted and weary.
“Maybe,” he shrugs, the action sliding his arm down until you’re actively being pulled flush to him. His chest rises and falls evenly against your side, calm finding him for the first time since the appeal was accepted. Your presence is steady and grounding, allowing him a moment to breathe before he’s forced to lock in.
And god does he bask in that silence. Hidden within the little piece of heaven you provide, like you can shelter him from the harsh weather of the outdoors.
Not that he needs sheltering, but he’s gotten a taste of your kindness, and he fiends for it now. He can still be the independent person he’s fought tooth and nail to be while enjoying what it means to have someone care for him.
Casual conversation flows easily between you, woven within talks of his arguments for tomorrow morning’s trial. Tension flows from his body as his arm falls to your shoulders until you’re effectively cuddling, and at the end of the night your heart wrenches to pull yourself from that position.
Making the smart decision to leave before your chest threatens to burst, you wriggle out from his arm, only for him to use the mass of it to stop you as he presses your shoulders down. “It’s late, I need to get some sleep before tomorrow morning.” It’s only half of an excuse, at the very least. You’re not about to divulge that your heart is eating you from the inside out.
There’s evidence on your friend, too, that he should make the most of his time to be at his best tomorrow.
“Just sleep here. I can take the couch.”
He unknowingly jabs a dagger deeper into your heart. Subconsciously, you reach up to scratch at your collar in an effort to ease the growing tension in your chest. Every single confusing action sends your sanity further spiralling as you grow less and less certain that his attraction to you is surface-level. “You can’t sleep on the couch. It’s an important night,” you insist, trying to lift his arm from your shoulders.
He presses down with equal force as you. “I’ll be fine. Sleep here.”
“I don’t have any clothes and I can’t wear yours to the court tomorrow.”
“You can go home n’ change before the trial.”
“Sukuna-”
“Stay.”
Your blood run cold as you search for meaning in something that you’ve seen in just about every cheesy rom-com you grew up watching. Maybe that’s what turned you into such a romantic, but right now it feels like your biggest weakness is being played like a violin when you can’t find any certainty behind the gravel in his voice.
Has his tone always been so husky? Are you hearing things?
You swallow hard in an effort to clear your cotton mouth. “Um-” you further hesitate, before meekly nodding. “Okay.”
You hadn’t realized just how tense he was too until you feel his build soften as he sinks back into the couch, pulling his arm back from your shoulders. “You know where everything is.”
You take the opportunity to escape and catch your breath within Sukuna’s room. Puffing out a dramatic sigh, you rub at the corners of your eyes in an effort to avoid scathing your makeup. All this time and every moment his arm brushes yours still feels like inhaling water.
If a brush of his arm sends water into your lungs, then being pressed into his side as he tightly envelops you is enough to drown you.
Physically shaking the thought from your head, you set aside your worries to the best of your ability. Sukuna needs your mind at ease when he’s so clearly wading through fire right now. Turning your attention to his closet, you pull out a Ghostface tee and a pair of shorts, making your way down the hall to change, brush your teeth, and take off the makeup to the best of your ability without makeup remover.
Re-emerging, you find him leaning against the wall partitioning the hallway from the main living area of his apartment. His head is buried in whatever he’s reading on his phone, the muscles of his jaw pulled taut.
“Is everything alright?”
He glances up from his phone, unable to help the way his eyes travel down your form, taking in the way his shirt hangs from your chest. He clears his throat, standing straight. “Yeah. Just… Reading shit.”
“About yourself?”
“Hard not to when it’s fuckin’ everywhere,” he sighs, pushing a hand back through his hair. It’s a relief that it doesn’t fall forward over his face now that he’s finally had a reason to get a hair cut. It’s nice to feel a little more presentable. “I got everything I need from my room. You can go ahead n’ get some sleep.”
“No, no! I’ll take the couch this time,” you insist. “You need sleep.”
“I like the couch.”
“I’m sure you like your bed, too.”
Your retort isn’t met with the roll of his eyes you’re expecting, but rather a huff. “Just take the fucking bed.”
“Please, I promise I really don’t-” you purse your lips as Sukuna takes a step towards you, ducking down at the last moment to lift you like a sack of potatoes over his broad shoulder.
You yelp in surprise, gripping the back of his shirt for purchase. “Sukuna!”
In response, he simply plops you down on his bed. You bounce on the mattress with a small ‘oof’ as he stands over you. “Goodnight.”
“Hey!”
It’s all for naught as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you in the familiar confines of his bedroom. You didn’t get a very good look last time you were in here to grab clothing, but it looks marginally better than when you brought him home intoxicated past the point of rational thought.
Although there’s still clothing piled along his desk and some on the floor, they’re the kind of piles that imply some sort of intention, as though some are dirty and some are clean and simply need to be put away. There’s organization to the chaos, which gives you the confidence to assume that he’s genuinely finding small shards of himself scattered in the mess, gluing them back in place.
Sighing, you sit up and smooth the Ghostface tee before sliding under the covers. Familiar hints of smoke, woodsy cologne and Sukuna hit your nose as your head falls to the pillow. He never can seem to make things easier for you. Between asking you to stay to tucking you into his side- subconsciously or not- and now picking you up and plopping you in his bed, you’ve completely run out of explanations.
The thought makes your heart stutter, but you’ve never taken Sukuna for anything less than blunt or the type to speak his mind, so if he’s interested, he’d say something, wouldn’t he? You sigh, pulling the covers up over your head as though it might block out the surroundings that further your uncertainty.
Maybe, once everything is over and he gets the kids back- this time for sure- you can have a conversation about this. You just need something to explain his behavior, whether it’s acceptance or rejection, you just need closure. You can live with just being friends just as you could last time, but you need to put boundaries in place as you get over him if that’s the case.
Today, though… Tonight… That’s the least of your concerns.
One step at a time, and tonight that step is an impending court date.
–
The living room is still bathed in shadows when Sukuna joins the ranks of the waking world. Sunlight isn’t a thought in the sky just yet, as he pushes up on his elbows to find that it’s barely three in the morning.
He falls back onto the couch as sleep pulls at the marrow of his bones, dragging him back into the comfort of a couch he couldn’t bear to admit he’s spent most of his nights on. He tries to go to sleep in his bed, he really does, but the only way he’s been able to convince his mind of a placebo that he’s not so alone in the apartment every night is to sleep on the couch.
For all the weariness that plagues him, he can’t bear to lay down any longer as his mind leaps into action, or maybe overaction, and he pushes up to open his laptop and do some last-minute preparation work for the trial in the morning.
Hunched tiredly over his laptop is exactly where you find him in the morning, though he now sports a clean and laundered black suit and matching black button-up shirt, while the cerise tie you’d gifted him last night hangs loosely from his collar, slightly askew. He looks undeniably handsome, clean-shaved with his hair gelled into place.
“Morning!” You greet him with a jittery smile as the trial looms quietly over you. Choso and Yuji may not be your family by blood, but if Kaori’s proved anything it’s that blood doesn’t always determine your family.
Sukuna perks up slightly, blinking as though he didn’t hear or see you depart his room. His eyes flicker down to your bare legs, the sight sending electricity straight to all the wrong places before he finds your eyeline once more. “Hey,” he mutters, redirecting his attention to his notes scrawled across the screen to keep himself distracted from the tantalizing sight. “You heading home?”
“Yeah, I’ll just change when I get back,” you shrug. The drive’s not long, anyway. “Sorry, I still have your other shirt and shorts, too. I’ll wash them and get those back to you!”
He looks tired as he casts a glance at the shirt you’re wearing. “Don’t worry about it,” he brushes you off, pushing to his feet to meet you at the door once you’ve finished in the washroom. Given that you had no intention of staying last night, you don’t have much to gather.
Turning back from his door as you slip your shoes on, you face him as he yawns and rubs at his bare chin over his tattoos. You can’t help a little lopsided smile as you admire the way the tie does bring out his eyes, even if it’s tied clumsily.
“Now you really look like Avril Lavigne.”
“You told me this would look good-”
“It does! You just- Hang on.” It’s like second nature as you take a step forward to fix his tie, deftly unraveling it before starting the process of tying it once more. It comes easily to you as the material glides through your fingers.
Sukuna’s lips purse as your fingers brush his chest with each movement. He’s silent as he watches the way your warm and groggy gaze blinks slowly, so hyperfixated on the slender material between your thumbs that you’re completely oblivious to his pounding heart. The movement is so painfully domestic and caring, one might even think…
He furrows his brow into a scowl as he stares down at you. The words pour from his mouth without thinking. “Can I ask ya something?”
“Mhmm!” You hum as you adjust his collar.
“I think I might’ve made a really fuckin’ stupid mistake.”
Concern paints your gaze as you briefly glance up from your task to him, silent questioning in the way you chew on your lip.
“Last year, I told this woman that kissing her was a mistake.”
Your movements slow before you can tighten the tie, clinging suddenly to the material as the air is sucked straight from your lungs. Your entire body is against you, frozen in place as you’re unable to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. You can’t even bear to look at him when he could send your whole world plummeting down around you before you’d prepared yourself for it.
The conversation needs to happen, you know it does, but you thought you’d have a bit to prepare yourself.
“It wasn’t. I was just a fucking idiot.”
You peer up at him from under your lashes. Clarity swirls within the depths of the crimson pools anxiously examining your reaction, waiting for a sign. A hint of perspiration reflects the morning light off of his brow. When you don’t reply, completely dumbstruck as you cling to the tie you haven’t quite finished with yet, he lets out an uneven breath and continues.
“By the time I realized how stupid I was, I thought I blew it.” He averts his gaze under the pressure of your intense stare. “I shoulda thought this through, fuck-” Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he inhales sharply. “Look. She’s the reason I’m here,” he motions loosely to his suit, “and I owe her. Do me a favor and tell her to wait for me after the trial if I’m right and she feels the same, yeah?”
You don’t trust your voice as heat decorates your face from ear to ear. You can only nod, chewing on your lower lip subconsciously as the world tenses. The birds outside the window all lean in, holding their breath for a confession long-awaited.
They’re let down as Sukuna puts on a facade of confidence, his expression hardening. “I’m heading to the courthouse early. See you there?”
You nod again, taking a breath out of necessity as your lungs and knees both threaten to give out in tandem. “Yeah,” you breathe, barely above a whisper. You swallow the lump in your throat, shakily tightening the tie around Sukuna’s collar and tucking the tail in. You take a step back, fighting the shy smile threatening your lips. “See you there, Sukuna.”
Before you leave, you swear you see his steely facade slip for just a moment as a rosy dust settles atop his cheeks.
–
You’re growing to hate this building with all the time you’ve spent here. Every brick seems to hold some sort of gut-wrenching memory within its grit, stained with the blood of so many worlds flipped on their heads.
You turn your attention hopefully to a small sparrow singing overhead, as you suck in a breath. Your heart hasn’t stopped doing backflips in your chest since Sukuna told you to wait for him after the trial, and at this point you can’t figure out whether it’s from the weight of what’s been left unsaid, or the impending trial.
Probably both.
As you cross the parking lot, your eyes go saucer-wide at the sight that greets you. It’s not a massive crowd, not the kind of thing you would see for a movie star or something of the sort, but there’s a sizeable crowd of paparazzi awaiting Sukuna. You purse your lips as you slip past the story-hungry journalists, grateful that they don’t know your relation to the man and opt to flat-out ignore you.
Security is upped with the crowd outside but once you manage to make it through, you’re greeted by familiar tall ceilings, tension hanging static in the air, disturbed only by a few bouncing legs and jittery fingers. You make your way to the reception desk, checking in before being led towards a more secluded courtroom down the hall from the one you were last in.
The clerk leads you to a seat behind Sukuna, whose eye you catch on the way in. The sight of him beside Ms. Harte is familiar. Although you can see the past month’s wear on his body and mind in the way he repeatedly runs a hand through his hair and squeezes the arm of his chair, he looks prepared. If that preparedness is a mask, then he wears it well.
Seated on the opposite end of the room is Kaori, who flashes you a heated glare. It’s then that you notice someone sitting opposite you as well. Noritoshi Kamo, seated straight in the withered wooden chair with an air of confidence practically radiating from him. A shiver runs up your spine at the slimy way he carries himself.
At the entrance to the room decorated in beiges and oak browns, the bailiff rises. “Please rise. The Honorable Justices of the Court are now presiding.”
Stark lightning crackles through the air as Sukuna and Kaori flash one another a glare while three judges walk in. They make their way to the podium, a man with not a single strand of brown hair out of place and sharp features, and two women, one with short black hair and rounded glasses, and one with graying long curls, all pristinely in place. The center judge adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she instructs the court to be seated.
There’s momentary silence as the short-haired judge takes in the sight of the court, something of surprise flashing in her eyes as she spots Noritoshi.
You can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign.
“The court is now in session,” she addresses the room. “We are here to address case 43981, Sukuna versus Itadori, in regards to a retrial following an appeal. I, Judge Cohen, will direct the trial today.”
She takes a breath, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose as she glances down at the paper by her elbows.
“I would like to remind everyone in the room that this is a new hearing. Please present all evidence as such, as we only have the information submitted to the court. You may refer to the previous trial and appeal as further evidence, however please ensure that it has been submitted to the courts as well. There will be no undisclosed evidence accepted at this time. All judgement made by the court will be agreed upon by a majority of the panel and will be solely based on what is presented today.”
She clasps her hands before herself, calmly examining the broader court.
“I would like to remind both parties to please conduct themselves with respect when addressing the court, and one another. For the purpose of this trial and the high-profile nature of this case, all records will be audio and written only. There will be no media or cameras allowed. Counsel, please identify yourselves for the record.”
With Sukuna now taking the role of the applicant, Ms. Harte rises first, offering mostly the same introduction statement as just over a month ago, though she adds to her statement given the new circumstances. “Although I acknowledge that this trial is being treated as a new hearing, it’s necessary to mention that we are back in court due to perjury on Ms. Itadori’s part,” she pauses, emphasizing the crime, “in order to ensure that Choso Itadori would be prevented from testifying. In addition to this, she has prevented Mr. Sukuna from his visitation rights with the children as submitted by the court during the previous hearing.”
Kaori’s lawyer, Mr. Cahn, follows up in a similar manner with their opening statements. In a similar manner to Sukuna’s, Kaori’s opening statement is relatively unchanged as well, aside from details regarding perjury. “On top of this, we acknowledge the claim of perjury, however there was no intention of deceit on the part of my client, nor was there any prior knowledge on her part that a clerical error was made and the birth certificate was fraudulent.”
Sukuna holds back a scoff at yet another blatant lie, frowning as he seethes. The mere sight of Kaori is already one that has his anger at a low boil, but to lie under oath again?
Narrowing his eyes, he heavily scrutinizes each judge. Could one, two, or even all three of them be under Noritoshi’s thumb again for her to so brazenly lie once again?
Is he doomed from the start again?
No. He can’t be. Background checks were done. There’s three judges. They even summoned Choso as a witness. What can Kaori possibly expect him to say in her favor? Sukuna has to put his faith in his little brother, and if it’s not what Choso wants, if maybe the eldest of the three brothers has misunderstood everything… Then he’ll leave them be.
Just the thought has him staring down at his lap, shuffling in order to better sit up.
With the opening statements coming to a close, Judge Cohen who’s taken the lead goes through familiar court rules and guidance on how proceedings will look over the next hour or so. As Sukuna is now the applicant, he’s the first witness called to the stand this time around. He takes an oath to tell the truth, shuffling in place as he greets the judges and gives a broad explanation of his role in the kids’ lives and his responsibilities as their guardian in the same vein as last time. His lawyer then rounds the table to question him.
“I’d like to begin by having you describe to the court what had you push for an expedited process today.”
“Sure. I saw my kid brothers on the front page of a newspaper. They both look scared and I don’t wanna see them go through that. Bein’ a celebrity is hard enough for an adult, but they’re just kids and Choso was already struggling. I made a promise to him that I would make things right.”
“Can you confirm what you intend to do to make things right?”
Sukuna swallows. For how many times he’s considered what it might be like in order to keep the kids out of the spotlight, he never really quite seemed to get the scope of the situation they’re in until he arrived at the courthouse today. He’d seen his face on magazine racks and had some journalist find his home, sure, but a slew of reporters somehow finding the court date and location? He hadn’t realized how deep of a hole had been dug.
It doesn’t matter. He’ll make it happen. He’ll take the shovel out of Kaori’s hands and dig them a ramp out. He’ll do it by hand if he has to, but he’s not fucking losing hope this time. He won’t lose his chance to make things right.
“I’ll do what it takes to make them happy. I’ll give them the privacy they deserve, and I won’t show them off in front of cameras. If that means transferring schools or moving away, then so be it.”
“Thank you. Mr. Sukuna, can you describe to the court your experience trying to get a hold of Kaori following Mr. Itadori’s passing?”
With the first question, the trial begins anew with testimony from Sukuna. Every glance up at the judges instills more confidence as they regard him with unbiased expressions. He doesn’t feel quite so doomed-from-the-start.
He recounts the events of reaching out to Kaori, and explains what it means to him to be the kids’ guardian. He recalls teaching himself to cook and change diapers, before taking a breath as his lawyer pushes for information he hadn’t ever considered sharing.
“Can you confirm the impact this had on you at only eighteen years old?”
He wants to say no, to hold the information close to his heart, but Ms. Harte had advised that they plead psychological damages- both to him and the children- in order to emphasize Kaori’s bad faith and ability to act only in her own personal interests. On top of that, it would allow Sukuna to catch up on bills, though that was information held under lock and key.
“Yeah, uh-” he casts a glance at Kaori, bringing a hand up to massage a kink in his shoulder. “My father, Kaori’s husband, got sick a bit after she left. He died when Yuji was around a year old of Heart Disease. I didn’t hear much from Kaori, but dad- uh-” he pauses, clearing his throat as his voice sputters out, “- Jin always said she was doin’ good and supporting us overseas.”
Sukuna’s brow twitches as he scowls down at the ground. His stomach churns as he divulges information he’d never dare to share in such a way, though he has no other choice. He shuts his eyes briefly in an effort to keep his anger to a low simmer, rather than the rage that threatens to overflow. His jaw tightens as he huffs.
“I watched him die. I heard him ask her to come back during a call a few days before it happened. I didn’t talk to her but I didn’t really care, figured she’d come back for her kids when he died.”
“You refer to ‘her kids’ as though that doesn’t include yourself, does it not?”
He frowns. “No. It never has. She made that pretty obvious even when I was a kid.”
“Thank you. Were you aware your father would pass away?”
Sukuna’s heart clenches, his voice low. “Yes.”
His lawyer nods, waving to him to continue.
“I got Ms. Itadori’s contact from his phone. She didn’t answer.” He shrugs, tilting his head to examine the cold expression on the opposition’s face. She doesn’t waver, staring proudly straight ahead. “Not me, not the lawyers. None of her family answered, either. Jin wanted me to go to school, made me promise to keep goin’ with it, so I got a job and kept studying while taking care of a one-year-old and seven-year-old.”
“How did that affect you, Mr. Sukuna?” Ms. Harte pushes.
He swallows, nodding slowly. He knew the question was coming, but it doesn’t make it easier. “I didn’t sleep much. Still don’t. I put the kids first, so I missed a lot of classes and shifts, which makes work and school tough.” He grimaces, eyes downcast as though the unpatterned floor is more interesting. “I still did alright, though. I-” he pauses, casting a glance back at you, grateful for your supportive smile. “I had help. Made it all manageable, until the trial.”
“How have these proceedings affected you?”
“It tripled my bills. I had to look at options for extra cash and ways to cut down.”
Ms. Harte nods. “How were you able to cut down?”
“I ate less. Called in a lot of favors to have friends look after the kids while I took extra shifts. I also dropped out of college.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Did this affect your brothers in any way?”
“Yeah. I wanted to be honest with them. They’re both smart, and Choso, the twelve-year-old,” he pauses, regarding Kaori with narrowed molten embers, “knows who Kaori is. I wanted him to know what was goin’ on. I knew he’d be scared, but he shut down. Just like when our father died, he got real quiet n’ liked to be locked in his room most of the time.”
Ms. Harte evaluates the judges behind her, who continue to listen attentively, before continuing. “Can you attest to how you were able to support Choso at this time?”
He hesitates, feeling the pressure of his own misgivings weighing down on him as he searches his mind for the practiced statement he’d gone over. He clears his throat. “Choso likes to talk through how he’s feeling. He just needs time to talk and work through things, so I gave him the space he needed when he asked and was there when he needed support. I’m not great at talking but I’m a good listener.”
Ms. Harte offers a small smile of encouragement, remaining professional as she smooths the front of her beige suit jacket. “Did this support seem adequate in improving his mental health?”
“Yeah. He’d usually come around after working through his thoughts.”
“Have you had any contact with him since Ms. Itadori took custody of the children?”
“No,” Sukuna’s lip curls in frustration as he recalls the text he received from her. Not shocking, but infuriating nonetheless. “I tried to visit them on the day we’d talked about, but she texted me to let me know it wouldn’t work. When I tried to figure out another day, she didn’t answer. It’s uh-” he shuffles through the paperwork at his elbows, pulling out a screenshot of the exchanged messages. “Here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna.” She hands over the evidence for the Judges’ ease, then proceeds to ask a slew of the same questions as the previous trial. Anything from his work ethic to his thoughts on the effects that often having a babysitter might have had on the kids. She has him tackle topics that the opposition will likely press on, such as his outburst at the Case Conference, before finishing his questioning with one last one.
“Do you wish to be their guardian again?”
“More than anything,” he mutters, vulnerability tearing into his chest and exposing his heart in a way that someone so guarded can hardly bear to express.
Ms. Harte’s lips press into a thin line, concentration playing in her eyes. She turns to address the grander room, her gaze sweeping across the three Justices of the court seated slightly above her eyeline. “No further questions, Your Honors.”
As Ms. Harte takes a seat, Mr. Cahn takes her place. Sukuna once felt unease at the sight of the opposing lawyer, now replaced with cunning rage. Sukuna straightens, purposefully making a show of being proud, and this time, prepared. He towers over the opposing lawyer, keeping a neutral expression to the best of his ability.
“Mr. Sukuna,” he starts, “I want to first begin by acknowledging that my client has nothing but respect for you and thanks you for your time looking after her children.”
Bullshit.
Sukuna has to fight the urge to roll his eyes.
Mr. Cahn’s questioning starts word for word the same as last time. “Mr. Sukuna, would you not agree that it’s important for the children to have a motherly figure in their life?”
Sukuna doesn’t back down, refusing to get backed into a corner. He’s prepared for these questions now. “They have good influences in their lives outside of a mother. I grew up without one and turned out fine,” he states plainly.
“Do you not have a vast record of misconduct as submitted to the court in your school records?”
“I do,” Sukuna admits, unwavering. “But I was a kid.” Sukuna pauses only briefly to shift his attention to the judges. “If you look at the date that Ms. Itadori married my father and the dates from the issues at my school, there’s a pattern,” he states somewhat smugly, his nerves settling as Mr. Cahn equally observes the judges.
“Are you stating that Ms. Itadori causes you to lose your temper?”
“Sure, when I was a kid.”
“If this pattern could only be recognized when you were a child, what are we meant to make of the Case Conference incident where you lashed out and were nearly removed from the courthouse?” The lawyer pushes, running a hand thoughtfully through his graying beard.
“Like I said before, that was an emotional time. I didn’t wanna lose the kids,” he states, keeping his anger under wraps and refusing to crack.
“If you believe yourself to be a good influence on the children, can you speak to your smoking addiction?”
“I smoke sometimes, but never near the kids.”
“As stated in my client’s submission of evidence, she witnessed you outside of your apartment smoking while the kids were upstairs last year, do you-”
“Objection, Your Honors,” Ms. Harte jumps in. “My client doesn’t recall this incident and there is no evidence that the children weren’t at a friend’s house or being watched by someone else if this did occur. This evidence should be dismissed as hearsay.”
Judge Cohen glances to either side. The man at her side nods, while the woman with graying curls briefly shoots Noritoshi- not even Kaori- a somewhat nervous look before nodding.
Snake.
Still, two out of three judges not under that asshole’s thumb is enough. Just the fact that the smoking incident Sukuna can’t recall for the life of him has been dismissed is leagues ahead of where he stood during the last trial.
“Objection sustained.”
“Thank you, Your Honors.”
Mr. Cahn re-composes himself, straightening as he rounds back to Kaori’s table to thumb through some files.
“Mr. Sukuna, I’d like to go over your work and school records. You have multiple counts of vandalism, trespassing, and pranks that landed you in the principal’s office.”
Sukuna shrugs a shoulder lazily, keeping his cool. “I was a kid.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Cahn agrees, holding what Sukuna can only assume is that stupid selfie he took with Choso when he was sixteen. “However, this wasn’t that long ago,” he states, handing the photo up to the panel of judges. “This is inappropriate behavior for someone of your age, even for the time. Particularly to involve your little brother.”
Sukuna grimaces, grappling with words in an effort to find an excuse, but everything goes back to him being a dumb kid. If that’s not enough, what is?
His lip twitches into a hint of a snarl. “It’s less inappropriate than leaving two kids with no guardian.”
Mr. Cahn’s jaw ticks in frustration. “Mr. Sukuna. Please keep your inappropriate comments to yourself. As stated in the documents submitted to the court and your lawyer, and mentioned in our opening statements, Ms. Itadori fell very ill and was unable to take care of her children at the time.”
The pink-haired brute barely keeps his frustration below the surface as he sends a glare Kaori’s way. They’d never managed to find any evidence against Kaori’s illness, but he still had no reason to believe her. Opting to keep his mouth shut, he examines the neutral expressions of the panel of Judges. Surely they can see what he does, right? No loving mother would reasonably leave their children to an unknown fate, no matter how ill.
Addressing the broader court, Mr. Cahn turns the tables on Sukuna once more. “As demonstrated here, Mr. Sukuna still has childlike tendencies. He is unable to keep his mouth shut in the case of things not going his way and demonstrates clear lapses in judgement.”
What he wouldn’t give to be able to show one of those ‘lapses in judgement’ now and chew this lawyer out.
Although it seems as though Mr. Cahn is getting the better of Sukuna, you notice that the salmon-haired brute’s straightened posture remains and he doesn’t falter. There’s no minute tremble in his fingers, no desperate glances towards his lawyer. He exudes confidence that he didn’t the last time you found yourself here.
The only evidence that he’s nervous is written in small twitches of his jaw, but he refuses to back down. Not when he’s so close, and not when Choso is in the building.
For once, Sukuna swears to himself that he won’t let his little brother down. Just once he wants to be the person Choso sees him as. He rolls his shoulders back, shaking off his nerves as Mr. Cahn rounds the room to face him again.
“Mr. Sukuna, you’re familiar with the contents of the house study that took place last month, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re aware that they state that Mr. Choso Itadori appeared to be struggling with his mental health?”
“Yeah.”
Mr. Cahn’s eyes narrow, as though he expected an outburst, a retort, something that might make Sukuna’s stance of a strong and independent guardian waver. This time around, he’s met with stoic confidence over righteous arrogance, and with every crack in his expression, it grows increasingly clear that he’s not sure how to handle the man facing him, who’s had over a month to reflect on every mistake.
Every moment he lashed out, every moment he lacked a response, every mistake brought to light, he’d spent a month simmering in his own stupidity. One month of self-loathing over misdemeanors he hardly remembers. One month of tearing himself to pieces over answers he hadn’t prepared. One month of seeking any kind of relief from the ache that gnawed him to the bone.
Their perjury is the very reason that Sukuna is standing here now, keeping steady even as they tear at his stitches.
He stares down at Mr. Cahn, unwavering as he prepares for the incoming question.
“It’s clear that you struggle with your own emotions, are you unable to provide for the emotional needs of your brother?”
“Choso has the support he needs. He only struggles with his mental health because of this trial.”
Mr. Cahn’s lips part, hesitating before he bounces back. “Can you attest to the manner that you’re able to support Choso?”
Sukuna shifts in place. “Like I mentioned to Ms. Harte, he likes to talk through his thoughts. I know I’m not great with words, but I’m a damn-” he shuts his eyes briefly, “- sorry, Your Honors. I’m a good listener.”
“Mr. Sukuna, you seem to have a habit of swearing. Would that not be inappropriate in front of young and impressionable children?”
Sukuna gathers his thoughts, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I try not to swear around them.” It’s the best he can give without outright lying, and he’s not about to commit perjury.
“You try?” Mr. Cahn parrots, raising his brow. “It seems clear to me that you don’t possess the emotional maturity to provide for such young children.”
Sukuna grimaces, jaw clenched. “No parent is perfect. I’m workin’ on myself,” he admits, the burn of vulnerability searing the back of his throat. It’s sour on his tongue, but he doesn’t shy away from the taste, remaining aloof to the best of his ability.
Visibly shocked by Sukuna's calm and mature reply, the opposing lawyer runs a hand through his graying beard as he composes himself. He examines the half-brother’s expression, seeking a crevice to pry into, but there’s nothing to be found. The ex-history major is well-aware that Choso’s teacher will be brought to the stand and by all accounts it’ll look bad on him. Luckily for Sukuna, it’ll look worse on Kaori when they point out the grade that Choso is in.
Regardless, Mr. Cahn presses on. He likely feels he needs to squeeze as much mileage as he can out of questioning Sukuna given that Kaori’s argument isn’t so airtight anymore. “My client and I both acknowledge Choso’s statement during the house study that he would like to be with Sukuna, however I would advise the court to consider that Choso Itadori is young and has no frame of reference to compare this-”
“He was seven when Kaori left. That’s old enough to remember her,” Sukuna grits.
“Mr. Sukuna,” the bailiff admonishes him for interrupting.
He shuffles from side to side, squeezing his hands into fists.
“As I was saying,” the opposition continues, “Seven is young. I think many of us here can agree that we don’t remember much from those years,” he grins as he shoots the panel of judges a knowing look to win them over. “Choso Itadori wouldn’t have a frame of reference between care from different sources.”
Now that he’s finished speaking, Sukuna is quick to blurt out a retort. “When you’re twelve, seven isn’t that long ago. He remembers Ka- Ms. Itadori well. That’s why he’s been struggling.”
Mr. Cahn seems to know something that Sukuna doesn’t, as he grins, a victorious lilt to his tone. “Your Honors, if Mr. Sukuna feels the need to speak without being spoken to, I would like to submit that we dismiss the witness on the grounds of providing information beyond the scope of the case.”
Straightening, the judge directing the case tilts her head towards her colleague with silver curls, who nods approvingly.
Sukuna’s lips part, the facade cracking as he feels the tremble returning to his fingers, watching in horror as the judges contemplate amongst themselves. While the one that he knows is under Kaori’s thumb is quick to agree, the man on the opposite side doesn’t make a decision quite as easily. Small twitches in his facial expression don’t give much away, either. Finally, he shakes his head.
“Objection overruled. Mr. Sukuna, please be warned to only speak when spoken to, however this is valuable information and not outside of the scope of this case.”
He breathes out a sigh of relief, dipping his head gratefully to Judge Cohen. He doesn’t dare say a word, hoping she understands his silent gratitude.
Mr. Cahn hesitates as he glances down at his paperwork, unsatisfied with what information he pulled from Sukuna, who refuses to buckle under pressure.
“No further questions.”
The room shifts, turning on its head from solemn confidence to brazen arrogance as Kaori and Sukuna’s roles are shifted. She takes her oath before standing straight. No longer confident in her control over the situation, his step-mother is shifty. Her hands, usually clasped before her in silent self-assurance now fidget, her nails picked raw.
You can only wonder what she has to lose. Her kids can’t truly be her concern, otherwise you wouldn’t have seen them at a massive tech conference barely a week after leaving Sukuna. With such little time to adjust, that kind of behavior had to be deemed as poor judgement, in addition to the bad faith she’s already shown when it comes to her motherly instincts, or lack thereof.
So what really has her so nervous?
You cast a glance to your right, giving a once-over of the stoic Noritoshi Kamo. Even seated, he’s tall, with a stature that would suggest he sees himself above everyone here. Neatly-coiffed hair sits atop his upper lip, curled just slightly into a resting frown.
Maybe he’s just using Kaori. Maybe what he truly cares about is the good publicity and without her kids she’s nothing to him. Would he leave her? You wouldn’t put it past him, she’s not his first wife and his track record isn’t the kind you hope for in a partner.
Then again, they must have been together for almost five years at this point, if you’re to assume that the real reason Kaori moved overseas is for him. Would he really use her in such a way for five years? That seems unlikely for a mogul like him.
Could it be… Choso? Is Sukuna right? Is Sukuna’s middle brother not Jin’s at all?
You shake your head, adjusting in your seat as Mr. Cahn is invited to begin questioning Kaori. Her statements are practiced, the sort of thing she rehearsed in the rearview mirror on the way here, probably written on cue cards for the benefit of committing them to memory.
You shift your gaze back to her, scrutinizing every last detail she goes over as she begins a broad statement on her take of what happened and why she couldn’t take the kids after Jin’s death. She touches on Sukuna’s inability to contact her, as well as bringing to attention the wealth disparity between her and her step-son and going through much of the same spiel about his inability to properly look after his brothers. Much like Sukuna’s testimony, hers remains much the same as the first time you heard the ordeal, up until the end.
“I would like to mention the topic of perjury as I know it’ll come up, I had no part in the forgery of any documents. A clerical error has taken place somewhere along the line, and I believe that warrants further investigation.”
Leaning further back in his chair, your friend huffs. It’s all bullshit and anyone can see it. To your relief, the judge who’s been at the helm of the proceedings seems skeptical.
“Ms. Itadori, thank you for your debrief. I’d like to dig into the perjury as well. Can you describe the process you used in order to request this birth certificate, as well as your reason for requesting it?”
“Of course,” she agrees. “I requested both Yuji and Choso’s birth certificates shortly before falling ill. They were requested from the Government’s website, and required me to provide proof of my guardianship over my children. I received them about twenty days later by mail.”
Her lawyer nods. “You’re implying that these reprints were ordered prior to your late husband’s passing. Is this correct?”
“It is.”
“Can you describe to the court why you did such a thing?”
She sighs dramatically, the sound setting Sukuna’s entire body alight with rage. What a fucking liar. So much for swearing an oath.
“Yes, of course. Ryomen and I have never seen eye-to-eye. He made it quite clear as a child that he had no interest in allowing me to take a motherly position in his life and as my late husband Jin prepared for his passing, he planned to send all of the children’s files to me. He was unable to do so due to his illness and instead I opted to have their documents reprinted in order to ensure Mr. Sukuna wouldn’t have prevented it.”
Sukuna’s eyes narrow. His pupils are pinpricks as he stares sidelong at his step-mother, his leg shaking beneath the table. Everything about her from her condescending demeanor to her composed arrogance just pisses Sukuna off more. He can’t stand the way he felt completely in control of the trial up until this point, where it feels like all of his sound arguments begin falling apart.
Mr. Cahn presses Kaori for details. “Did Jin Itadori advise you to do such a thing?”
“He did,” she affirms. Sukuna whips his head towards her, his jaw hanging askew. She can lie all she’d like, his father would never do such a thing. “He advised me that Mr. Sukuna had been very emotional since he’d gotten sick and had advised that we begin moving all of his assets over to me. I won’t cause a stir over losing any of our assets and I’m happy that my step-son was able to make use of them, however my biological children are not assets.”
For a woman so adamantly fighting for custody, she sure does treat them like they’re assets.
“Can you confirm what method of communication you used in order for Jin Itadori to express this to you?”
“This was over a phone call on my new number, which I suppose wasn’t saved in his phone. I believe he was in the hospital at the time.”
“Thank you, Ms. Itadori. Your Honors, I’ll have you please look over Ms. Itadori’s medical records.”
All three judges flip a few pages as the sound of paper through the air is all that penetrates the otherwise silent room. There’s an echo to her voice as Judge Cohen acknowledges Mr. Cahn’s request. “Please proceed.”
“As you can see, Ms. Itadori fell ill as well, and was admitted to the hospital shortly after Jin’s passing, therefore causing her flight to need to be cancelled. Records of her flight cancellation are included as well.” He pauses to allow the judges a moment to look over the records. “This was shortly after beginning work at a new company, which required her to change cellular providers. She also moved to be closer to her office, hence the difficulty contacting her. That’s correct, Ms. Itadori?”
“Yes.”
“Please describe how you were able to meet your current husband while ill.”
She casts a glance back at Noritoshi, met with no response even as she clearly seeks his support. “Um-” She hesitates, clearing her throat. “Yes, of course. He recommended me for the position at my new company, and upon falling ill, came to visit me frequently at the hospital. We began dating after he visited multiple times per week, and got married once I was discharged. We eloped, we didn’t want to waste any time while I was feeling well.”
“And how have you been feeling since then?”
“Great, thank you.”
“Do you have any concerns that your health may prevent you from providing the utmost care for the Itadori children?”
“Not at all,” she shakes her head. “I had a particularly bad infection that caused me to experience painful symptoms long after the infection had cleared, however they no longer persist. I see my doctor regularly and have been clear of any issues since my discharge. I have those details here, as well.”
Her lawyer smiles, his self-assurance rising by the second. “Thank you. Please, Your Honors, I’ll have you take a look as well.”
Another pause. Each one has both you and Sukuna holding your breath, as though her argument might unravel within the silence, but the moment never comes.
“Ms. Itadori, do you feel you have provided a safe and nurturing environment for the children since the previous trial?”
“I do.”
“Can you describe how the children have settled in?”
“Absolutely. We recently purchased a nearby house in order to allow the children to be near their friends while they adjust to the changes. We’ll travel back and forth during school breaks, which both of them are very excited about,” she smiles, a flat look in her eyes, “and both children have their own space. Their rooms are side-by-side, they enjoy spending lots of time together.”
A lump forms in Sukuna’s throat as he scowls down at his lap. With each word, the bile in the back of his throat grows more sour.
“Yuji has really started to make his room his own. He enjoys video games and cartoons and we installed a basketball hoop for him. I’m sure he got that interest from Mr. Sukuna,” she offers a faux smile as she cocks her head in Sukuna’s direction. “Choso’s transition has been slower. We’ve enrolled him in a private school, as he was struggling with being bullied. He spends most of his time in his room, but we’re careful to give him the space he needs while always being open to talking. As my step-son mentioned, he benefits a lot from working through his emotions.”
Nausea sends Sukuna’s mind into a tilting sensation. He reaches up to hold his head in an effort to ground himself, taking long slow breaths.
He’d prepared himself for hearing about his brothers and the topic of Choso being bullied, he could face that. Something about imagining the little brown-haired boy alone in a room that isn’t his own with people he doesn’t know makes his chest compress more than he can handle. He leans forward in his chair, rubbing his face and blowing out a breath.
“Mr. Sukuna,” the judge cuts in, addressing him as he lets out a labored gasp, “are you feeling alright? Do you need us to take a small break?”
“No,” he forces out, sitting up as he rests a hand on his stomach in order to settle it.
The male judge quietly says something with a grimace to Judge Cohen, who nods. “I’d like to take a brief break to allow both groups to take a breath. I apologize Ms. Itadori, we’ll return in fifteen minutes and continue where we left off. Please rest assured that this won’t affect our judgement and is a normal procedure within the court.”
The air within the room lightens as Kaori and her lawyer chatter quietly amongst themselves. All three judges take leave at once as you carefully watch Sukuna. He hunches over again, dragging his hands over his face, then back through his hair.
“Go get some water,” Ms. Harte encourages softly with a gentle pat to his shoulder. “There’s a water cooler just down the hall.”
He inhales a long, slow breath and nods, getting to his feet. His gaze finds you, a plea swimming in otherwise stoic crimson irises. You’re up in a moment, trailing just behind him.
Stepping out into the high ceilings of the hall, you purse your lips at what you can only assume is Noritoshi Kamo’s security, two large men in full black suits, while court security lingers around the room as well. It’s hard to put into perspective just how important he (thinks he) is until you see it for yourself.
Sukuna tapers off from the security detail, finding a secluded corner to take a breath. He settles against the wall, leaning his head back on the cool surface as he recenters himself.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, ignoring the way your stomach flutters upon the promise of seeing him after the trial. It’s not the time. “You’ve got this, you know that.”
He peeks his eyes open, examining your expression. “I know,” he agrees hoarsely, reaching a hand up to scratch at his chest as though something is gnawing at it. “‘S just hard hearing about what’s goin’ on.”
You murmur your agreement, brushing your fingers along the backs of his. He cocks his head to the side, eyelids heavy as he watches the way you remain tender with him. Wearily, he lifts a hand to curl his fingers around yours, clasping your hand within his. His gaze lingers on the way your hand fits within his, like a zipper pulled together.
“Can’t believe we called her out for perjury and she’s still fucking lyin’.”
“I just wish there was proof,” you agree.
“The proof will be Choso’s testimony,” he mumbles, keeping his voice low. He leans in to further guarantee the privacy of your conversation. “Even if they bring in his teacher, it won’t matter. Dunno what they expect at this point.”
You brush your thumb along the rough skin of Sukuna’s hand. “I don’t think they ever expected you to get this far, honestly. I think their argument’s falling apart.”
Hope flickers within the depths of his dull eyes. “Y’think?”
You nod, offering an equally optimistic smile.
He inhales deeply, nodding to himself. “Right.”
“Just hang in there. Things will fix themselves because you did everything the right way.”
The corner of his lip downturns just slightly, but he gives your hand a squeeze. “Yeah,” he breathes. He takes a moment to examine the increasingly large security detail surrounding the court, his expression hardening. “Let’s go back inside,” he mutters, erring on the side of caution.
He slips his hand out of yours, letting it rest on your waist as he guides you behind him in an effort to block the possibility of any cameras catching a glimpse of you. Tingles shoot out from where his hand rested like electricity. The feeling is warm, calming your nerves like an embrace with only a guiding touch.
You can only hope your presence grounds him in the same manner.
As the members of the trial returns to their seats, the return of the judges is announced. “Court is now back in session, please resume the examination of the witness.” Judge Cohen waves her hand in Kaori’s direction. Both rise as Mr. Cahn rounds the table, adjusting the tie around his neck as he composes himself.
“Ms. Itadori, I believe we were in the midst of hearing how the children have settled in with you.”
“Of course,” she agrees. “Yuji has settled in just fine. We put up a basketball net for him and both boys have their own spaces. Choso has taken more time to adjust and enjoys time to himself. We’re happy to give him the space he needs,” she smiles, blinking quickly. “They get home-cooked meals three times a day, lots of time to play outdoors, and have been doing well in school. We also limit their screen-time, of course,” she laughs, as though that might be funny.
The silence that meets her shuts her up.
“There’s a park a couple of blocks away from where we live that they really enjoy and we’re planning a trip to take them to a theme park,” she grins as though she’s the picture of a perfect guardian.
The frustration within Sukuna is palpable throughout the room, prickling at his skin as it raises into goosebumps at the sound of how his little brothers are supposedly doing.
He balls his hands into fists, biting down on the inside of his cheek in order to subdue his anxiety, fueling his frustration instead. At least that he can manage that without feeling as though the world is opening up to swallow him whole.
“Can you attest to having the monetary means to support them not only as children, however through their future schooling and adulthood?”
“Of course. Your Honors, my husband and I,” she glances back at Noritoshi with a look that makes you narrow your eyes as nerves make her stammer, “we- um- we own a very successful business and have separated a portion of our earnings to build funds for my boys’ futures. You’ll see those accounts included here,” she hands a sheet of paper to Mr. Cahn to pass along.
For all of Sukuna’s brazen confidence, shame and fear seep through the cracks as he stares down at the submitted evidence that Ms. Harte flips through to follow along. He can’t be sure how much compensation he’d get from Kaori if he wins- if any- and even then he’s not sure he can match that.
He sucks in a breath through his teeth, setting the thought aside as he fills his mind with images of the kids on the red carpet. He supposes at the end of the day it’s up to Choso. He’s here. He gets a say. If he chooses Kaori, then so be it.
So be it.
Even if it tears him apart, if it’s what Choso and Yuji want, he’ll let them go.
Mr. Cahn’s steady and authoritative voice rings through Sukuna’s thoughts. “Lastly, are you prepared to raise these children for the rest of your life? Kids are a lifelong responsibility.”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“That is all, Your Honors,” he bows, taking a seat beside Kaori.
The judge takes a moment to look over the evidence, nodding once she receives a signal from the remaining panel. “I’d like to invite the applicant’s counsel to cross-examine the witness.”
Ms. Harte adjusts her jacket, rounding the table to now face Kaori.
“Ms. Itadori, what led you to take a position overseas when your youngest son was barely a couple of months old?”
“My late husband and I didn’t earn much at the time and with three boys, we felt it was the right thing to do. My maternity leave was already over at my old job which had poor benefits, and it seemed like the most responsible decision to make for all of their futures,” she explains.
Ms. Harte doesn’t waver, tilting her chin up. “And did you not consider how leaving might affect Choso and Yuji Itadori while both were- and frankly still are- in very important developmental years?”
“I did. That played a big role in my decision, but with Jin having his hands full, it seemed like the right option to take a position that offered more income than both of us working and putting the kids in daycare,” she pauses with a sidelong glance at her step-son. “We considered the option of having Mr. Sukuna help out with watching them, but I didn’t love that idea given how much trouble he was causing.”
Immediately, Sukuna’s mouth opens to retort, but Ms. Harte’s face whips towards him. He shuts up with one stern look from his lawyer. With a harsh wooden creak, he sits back in his chair, his leg bouncing rapidly.
Fucking snake. Jin wouldn’t let Sukuna help. At every turn he refused Sukuna’s help, wanting his eldest son to be able to live his life. The most he would allow of Sukuna was small tasks. Taking Choso out to the skate park or moving Yuji to his carseat was about as much as his father would ever allow him to do, no matter how sick he got. Even when Kaori was around, Jin took it upon himself to do everything.
One could see where Sukuna got his stubbornness from.
The burly man stares holes into the side of Kaori’s head as the cross-examination continues.
“In the same vein, did you consider the children’s well-being when you brought them to the SXSW conference and festival?”
With a tight-lipped smile, Kaori nods slowly. “The boys expressed an interest in wanting to experience it,” she states simply.
Ms. Harte takes a moment to re-center herself before directing her attention to the panel of Justices. “Your Honors, I’d like to direct your attention to the photos and subsequent articles to come from the conference.” There’s a brief pause as the wave of paper fills the air. “The children are clearly very afraid.” She turns to direct her attention to Kaori. “Whether they expressed an interest in being there or not, is it not your responsibility to ensure their safety? That conference boasted over half a million people this year.”
Kaori hesitates, her gaze shifting briefly to the side. Noritoshi subtly straightens, the intensity within his stare growing more unnerving.
“I can understand concern based on these photos, but they adjusted quite quickly.”
“Is that how you would explain the photos of Yuji cowering behind you, taken within the exhibit hall?” Ms. Harte quizzes, pushing for Kaori to crack. She pulls a photo from Sukuna’s table, which he catches a glance at. He doesn’t get a good look at it, but he’d warrant a guess that Choso, facing away from the camera, is doing his best not to cower away, himself, while keeping his promise to Sukuna to look after Yuji.
The lump in Sukuna’s throat catches and a cough rumbles in his chest.
The photo is passed along to the judges while Kaori visibly scrambles for a reply. She takes a breath to remain calm and even, nodding slowly. “The exhibit hall was overwhelming for them,” she admits, “but we immediately took them to the VIP area, which was private, and they loved it.”
Ms. Harte takes a step towards the small podium in which the judges reside. It’s not intended for three judges, based on how closely they’re seated and how small the courtroom is, but the nature of the case dictated special allowances be made in order to ensure fairness and safety.
“I’d like to advise that the court considers the children’s safety at such an event. Not only is Yuji Itadori completely unfamiliar with Ms. Itadori, Choso also hasn’t seen her in five years. They don’t have a trusted adult with them at an extremely high profile event where they are the spotlight surrounded by half a million people. Whether the children enjoyed it or not, this is a large risk to take with young children, particularly in regards to their mental health and safety.”
She turns away from Sukuna’s step-mother as she organizes her thoughts and brings her next question to light.
Composing herself with complete confidence, she continues her cross-examination. “Can you attest to the denial of my client’s visitation rights?”
“Certainly. There was no bad blood intended with Mr. Sukuna, we were simply preparing to take the children to SXSW. I would be more than happy to continue with visitation in the future.”
“The screenshots provided by my client indicate you didn’t reply to multiple messages, did you intend to continue them without court involvement?”
She smiles, faux kindness shot towards her fiery step-son. “Absolutely. His relationship with his brothers is important. I was unable to reply due to travel.”
“For several weeks?”
She laughs, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I get many texts, they just got buried by the time we returned.”
Facing the liar once more, Ms. Harte finally brings to the table what’s been weighing heavy on the courtroom. “Ms. Itadori,” she begins grimly. “You’re accused of perjury. Can you confirm that you’re aware of the meaning of the term?”
“I am aware, yes.”
“Thank you. As a reminder, perjury is lying under oath. In addition, in this case, the birth certificate would stand as fabricated evidence, uttering forged documents, and fraudulent misrepresentation, as this evidence prevented Mr. Choso Itadori from testifying. Should this be proven, all acts demonstrate bad faith and can warrant jail time, should you be found guilty in a Criminal Court investigation.”
Ms. Harte takes a moment to give pause in order to allow these crimes to settle in. Should the court agree with Sukuna as the applicant, Kaori should by all means be under investigation in a criminal court, as family court isn’t exactly the place for this.
“Were you aware at the time of submission that the birth certificate that you submitted for Choso Itadori was a falsified document?”
She swallows hard. “No.”
“Were you aware at any point during the process that this document was false?”
“No.”
Sukuna lifts a brow. Doubling down? It’s almost impressive. Sure, Noritoshi’s wealth and resources could likely prevent prison time for her, but it’s bold nonetheless. He casts a sidelong glance at Noritoshi. That’s if he isn’t using Kaori in the first place and doesn’t simply toss her aside.
They deserve one another.
“You mentioned that you filed for the document through the government website prior to your late husband’s passing. This would have been close to four years ago, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
Ms. Harte nods, remaining professional as she continues with hands clasped before her. “In the court-ordered record of reprints we requested, this doesn’t appear to be the truth. The last time Choso Itadori’s birth certificate was printed was on his date of birth, twelve years ago. Can you attest to how this may be the case?”
“Objection!” Mr. Cahn steps in, taking a stand. “We didn’t receive such a document during the Document Disclosure phase.”
The judge’s expression remains impartial as she addresses Sukuna’s lawyer. “Was this record shared with the respondent’s counsel?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I included a document in which Mr. Cahn himself signed off on receiving all evidence we have provided today,” she confidently states, passing along a dry-ink signed document stating that it was indeed received.
The judge takes one look at the document, addressing Mr. Cahn once more, who’s in no position to lie as he’ll be under serious investigation should this case not go his way. “Mr. Cahn, is this your signature?”
His lips press into a thin line. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Objection overruled. You may continue, Ms. Harte.”
Tension fills the room as Mr. Cahn takes a seat, allowing Sukuna’s lawyer to continue.
“Ms. Itadori, as I was saying, the records state that the last time Choso Itadori’s birth certificate was printed was on his date of birth, twelve years ago. As Mr. Sukuna was able to submit this as proof of Choso Itadori’s date of birth, can you confirm where you received the falsified document?”
“It must be a clerical error,” she replies, her repose and control beginning to falter as her hackles raise. “I received it through the government website,” she insists again.
“Ms. Itadori, without solid proof, this will not stand in a court of law.”
“No, the…” she trails off, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “The records must be a clerical error.”
Skeptically, Ms. Harte raises her brow. “Are you claiming both the incorrect birth certificate and the court-ordered record of printing to be incorrect?”
“Yes! I haven’t committed any crimes, and I would do no such thing.”
“If you’ll take a look at the document we provided,” Ms. Harte insists with a victorious gleam in her eye as Mr. Cahn does find it in front of him- yet another convenient little misstep in their argument- and presents it to Kaori. “You can see that it was signed off by two parties and officially stamped and sealed. There were extra precautions taken to ensure that this document is certified correct. With this understanding, where did you request the falsified certificate from?”
Kaori’s mouth opens to say something, but the words die in her throat. When her silence grows prolonged, Ms. Harte repeats the question. The silence continues, growing prolonged as Kaori searches for a reply, her eyes flitting desperately around the room. Mr. Cahn’s knuckles go white as he clenches the arm of his chair at her side.
The black-haired judge leading the trial shifts in her seat. “You are required to answer the question truthfully.”
Sukuna’s step-mother’s head flips dramatically to the judge. She clears her throat. “Yes, Your Honor.” Chewing on her lip, she inhales sharply and stands straight again. “I don’t know how that could be possible. I applied for the reprint properly, clearly there was a clerical error and it wasn’t recorded.”
The judges can be heard clearly making notes as Ms. Harte turns to address the broader court. “Your Honors, as you have heard, the witness’ account contradicts evidence that has been provided and I would suggest that their testimony be given no weight.” It’s not a formal request, therefore the judge remains impartial, simply making a note. “No further questions, Your Honors.”
Ms. Harte takes a seat as the proceedings continue. The judge thanks Ms. Harte as the panel adjusts the paperwork before them in preparation for the next witness. “We will now hear from the applicant’s second witness. As this witness is a minor, the court has appointed legal representation for the child. I’d like to remind the counsel for both parties to remain calm and keep all questions and language age-appropriate.” Judge Cohen pauses, adjusting her glasses as she stares down at the paper before her. “The witness has requested to appear in-person, although they were offered other means of testimony. The court has agreed, however the lawyer for the witness will step in should anything be taken too far.”
The bailiff briefly leaves the room to get Choso, and Sukuna swears his heart is beating in his throat. He leans forward, gripping the table for purchase. It shifts under the pressure he places on it just as Choso enters the room.
He can scarcely be seen behind the bailiff and his lawyer as he’s escorted to the side of the room due to the lack of a proper witness’ stand. Both he and his lawyer are offered chairs, and they both take a seat. Choso’s feet don’t touch the ground, kicking a couple of times as he tests the height of the chair.
He looks tired. Fitted in a sweatshirt and a nice pair of slacks, he’s clearly uneasy about the entire ordeal, though he understands the gravity of his testimony. His usually-sunken gaze has an air of genuine fear, accentuated by the way he shifts on the seat. His hair is a bit greasier than usual too, as though he hasn’t had the means or been able to wash it.
Your heart twists in your chest for the little boy.
Finally looking up, he shrinks at the formal setting of the courtroom. Adjusting the hem of his deep purple sweatshirt, he fiddles with his thumbs, visibly trembling as he meets Kaori’s falsely warm gaze. He quickly averts his eyes, searching for the one reason either you or Sukuna would think he requested to be in-person.
His eyes lock with Sukuna, and Choso rocks forward on the chair as though he longs to lunge forward and hug his brother, unable to. Still, there’s hope. Hope is shared between the two as Choso sees the evidence of the promise his older brother is giving his all to keep.
Sukuna grips his chair hard to ground himself before his little brother, eyes flickering up to the judge as she addresses Choso.
“Hello. Please say your name for the record.”
He clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “Choso Itadori.”
“Choso, do you understand that you’re here to answer questions about things you have seen and heard?”
“Yes.”
The judge nods in approval. “You’ll be asked to tell the truth, no matter how hard that is. Do you know what that means?”
Choso slowly nods, nervously peering back at Sukuna. Sukuna gives him a reassuring nod as he steels himself. No matter how much his stomach lurches, no matter how heavy the weight on his chest, he breathes in long and slow, and remains the pillar of hope that Choso needs.
“Can you respond with your words please, Choso?”
“Oh, yes. Sorry,” he murmurs. “It means that I don’t lie.”
“That’s no problem, Choso. Thank you. Do you promise to tell the truth?”
“I promise.”
The judge then addresses Choso’s lawyer, a man with straight dusty brown hair in a navy suit. “Please feel free to jump in whenever you feel the need.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Counsel for the applicant, please begin the witness examination.”
Ms. Harte stands up, though her demeanor isn’t the imposing one she carries when she examines Kaori. She bears a smile, warmly greeting Choso. “Hi Choso, my name is Ms. Harte. I’m your brother’s lawyer, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi,” Choso quietly greets her, peering up at the woman as she introduces herself.
“To start, can I have you tell me what it’s been like living with your brother for the past few years?”
Choso nods, chewing on his lip briefly as he organizes his thoughts. “Um- Sukuna works really hard for Yuji and I. He worked two jobs for a long time and the woman across the hall would come over to watch us. She’s really nice and I like her.”
Ms. Harte smiles. “Did you still get to spend lots of time with your older brother, even with school and work?”
“Yeah,” Choso nods, his gaze shifting nervously to Kaori. “He plays games and watches movies with us.” A sliver of happiness flashes within his eyes as he adds, “he taught me how to cook, too.”
“Do you like cooking?”
He nods. “Mhmm. I wanna be a chef.”
“What a fun job! Has your brother mentioned anything about your future?”
“Um…” Choso thinks on the subject briefly. “He said I could go to cooking school if I wanted to.”
“That’s great. You seem excited.”
Choso peers briefly at Sukuna, nodding. “I am.”
Moving along, his lawyer changes the subject. “Did you remember living with your mother before this last month?”
Choso frowns, a little scowl on his face that’s so similar to Sukuna’s that it always warms your heart. “A little. I spent more time with my dad.”
“Even before your mom went overseas?”
The little boy nods again. “Yeah. I talked to her on the phone every week when she left but not for very long. We mostly talked about my grades.”
Ms. Harte herself frowns. Even as a lawyer who knows the situation at hand, it would seem it’s hard not to feel bad when faced with the kid who’s being fought over. “Were you ever very close to your mom?”
The brunette worries his lip between his teeth, already chewed raw as he casts a nervous glance at his mother. He shrinks back in his chair again. “No,” he replies mousily.
Ms. Harte takes a breath. “Did you want to go with your mom when she went overseas?”
He shifts again, the nervous fidgeting of his hands and feet increasing with every mention of his mother. “No. I wanted to be with my dad and brothers.”
“Did you want to go with your mom when she came to pick you and your brother up last month?”
Choso goes rigid, his gaze freezing on his mother. “Um-” he hesitates, wrapping his arms around himself.
“Take all the time you need, Choso,” Ms. Harte quietly encourages him, offering what little comfort she’s able to in this setting.
Shakily inhaling, the little boy struggles to tear his gaze away from Kaori. Although she wears a smile- regardless of the fact that it’s about as real as her evidence- Choso clearly sees something else in her. As you watch the little boy fidget in his chair, you find yourself following suit. Your chair creaks under your weight as you await the little boy’s reply when he’s finally able to rip his gaze away from his mother.
His eyes widen slightly as he blinks, so caught up on his brother and mother in the same room that he hadn’t noticed you sitting behind Sukuna until your chair disturbs the eerie silence. His lips purse before he sucks in a breath. “No,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to.”
Ms. Harte remains a steady presence, doing what she can to keep her questions fair and easy for the poor child. “Has your opinion changed at all over the last month?”
“No,” he answers again, even quieter this time as his timbre wobbles. “I wanna be with my brother.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Choso.” Ms. Harte pushes her hair over her shoulder. “Do you know how Yuji feels about this?”
“We both wanna go back to Sukuna,” he replies without hesitation in a low tone, clinging to the fabric of his sweatshirt.
“Objection,” Mr. Cahn speaks in a calm tone so as not to scare Choso, who’s clearly already under enough stress. “This is hearsay.”
Judge Cohen quietly turns back to the rest of the panel. They keep their voices low, out of earshot of the rest of the court as they discuss the objection. The graying judge clearly disputes the call of the other two, though it doesn’t seem to matter as the lead judge turns back to the court. “Overruled. Choso and Yuji are the subject of this custody battle in the first place, their thoughts and opinions directly affect the case.” She turns to Sukuna’s lawyer. “Please continue.”
“Thank you, Your Honors.” Ms. Harte smiles again at Choso, remaining calm.
Sukuna breathes out a sigh of relief, adjusting in his seat to lean to the right in order to stop his leg from bouncing.
His lawyer continues. “Can you confirm for me that Sukuna helped out when your dad was sick?”
Choso nodded. “Yeah. Um- he drove my dad everywhere and helped out as much as he could, but Dad didn’t let him most of the time.”
“Thank you.” She glances back at her paperwork strewn along the table before Sukuna, moving along. “Did your mother take you and Yuji to the SXSW Convention?”
“Um- is that the red carpet thing?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, she did.”
“What did you think of that?”
He chews on his lip again, glancing over at his mother. His voice is barely above a whisper when he replies. “I didn’t like it.”
“Did your little brother?”
“No. He didn’t like all the yelling.”
“What yelling do you mean?”
He stares down at his lap. “The camera people. They were yelling questions at us.”
“I understand, thank you. I have two more questions, Choso. Is that alright with you?” The little boy hums in affirmation, so Ms. Harte presses on. “When you were with your mother, did anything bad happen?”
The air in the room thickens. The implication behind the question is obvious, even to the little boy. He’s a smart kid, Sukuna’s always said so, and he’s proving it now, too.
“Um-” Choso’s leg bounces, as though the action was transferred from one brother to another as the little boy shrinks into his chair. He chews on his lip again, a deep red visible when he utters another uncertain hum. You want so desperately to be able to reach out and hug him, the poor boy.
“Do you need a moment, Choso?” The judge steps in.
“N-no, I’m okay,” he mumbles, short nails scratching at the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “Everything was okay,” he starts, hesitating as he finds his gaze drawn back to Kaori. Her smile has faded and it’s clear she’s striking fear right through Choso, piercing his heart.
You have half a mind to wonder if she told Choso to lie before Child Services took the children. She must have known that Sukuna would call on the little boy to testify.
“But- um-” he takes a shaky breath, looking back to his older brother. “Kaori wouldn’t let us see Sukuna,” he mumbles, earning a few raised brows at the use of his mom’s first name. “I don’t think Yuji’s been doing good without him.”
“Can you tell me what you mean when you say Yuji hasn’t been doing good?”
Choso shifts again, taking a moment to think before he replies. “He’s been crying a lot. We got our own rooms and Mr. Kamo won’t let us share, but Yuji’s afraid.”
Ms. Harte grimaces, her own heart twisting for the children. “What about you, Choso? How are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, he doesn’t even really seem sure himself. It’s then that you spot that familiar distance that you’ve come to see in Sukuna’s gaze, like he’s not quite all there. He’s only twelve and has been forced to step into the position that Sukuna had to at eighteen, taking his little brother under his wing.
It’s taken a toll on him.
“I’ve been better,” he admits. “I miss Sukuna.”
“Thank you, Choso. One more question, alright?”
Choso simply nods.
“I want you to take into account you, and your brother Yuji. Think about what you want for your futures, what will help you grow, and how you feel right now, okay?”
Choso nods. “Okay.”
Ms. Harte continues to offer a kind smile. “Who do you want to live with?”
Sukuna sucks in a breath and holds it. It doesn’t matter how little praise was sent Kaori’s way, he still finds himself slightly trembling as he awaits an answer.
But Choso doesn’t hesitate. “Sukuna.”
Ms. Harte thanks the young boy, turning to the judges. “No further questions, Your Honors.”
As she takes a seat, the judges acknowledge the end of the examination by Sukuna’s lawyer as the applying party. “Counsel for the respondent, please begin your cross-examination.”
Mr. Cahn rises, his demeanor changing as well to address the young Itadori as he rounds the chair. He leans against the table, letting his guard down and smiling. Still, Choso frowns.
“Choso, I’m Mr. Cahn, I’m your mom’s lawyer.”
He briefly hesitates, his deep brown eyes searching the room for you and Sukuna, before he’s able to meet Mr. Cahn’s gaze. “Hi.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he offers, though the child’s eyeline keeps shifting to meet Sukuna for silent encouragement. “I have a few questions for you, okay?”
“Okay,” he murmurs.
Straightening his tie, the respondent lawyer begins. “You spent the past month and a bit with your mother, correct?”
“Yeah.”
“And you mentioned that you and your little brother got your own rooms as well.”
Choso nods, before remembering to speak. “Yeah.”
“Was it nice having your own space?”
Choso chews on his lip. “Um-” Shuffling in place, he repeatedly scuffs his shoes together. “It was okay.”
“Just okay?” Mr. Cahn pushes.
The young boy carefully looks over at his mother as though one wrong statement lands him back in the very room being discussed. He shies away from her stern look, pushing himself into the chair. “Yeah. Um- Yuji was too scared to be alone at night. Mr. Kamo won’t let us share so I hear him crying a lot.”
Clearly that wasn’t the response Mr. Cahn wanted, making the assumption that Choso would have enjoyed his own space given how he’s acted thus far. He purses his lips briefly before resetting himself. “Right. I’m sorry to hear that, Choso. Aside from that, did you enjoy having your own room?”
The boy blinks slowly. “I guess.”
Given that he’s not getting the testimony he’s hoping for, Mr. Cahn moves along. “Choso, did your mother mention to you all the trips she would like to take you on?”
Choso nods. “Yeah.”
“What trips were those?”
Unraveling his arms from around himself, he fiddles with his fingers thoughtfully. The silence extends as he stares down at his chewed nails. The court awaits his reply, patient with the young witness even as time ticks on, but Choso just shakes his head. “I don’t remember,” he nearly whispers, shooting a fearful glance at his mother.
“You don’t remember?” The lawyer parrots the reply, caught off-guard.
Choso shakes his head, lowering it. “No. I’m sorry.”
Your heart sinks. Is the poor little boy so afraid to face his own trauma that he can’t remember it?
At this point, the lawyer clearly starts realizing he won’t get the replies he’s thinking he’ll get from the little boy, and has to adjust his approach. He takes a moment to gather some notes, and attacks from a different angle.
“Choso, has your older brother ever been bad to you?”
“Um- not on purpose.”
Finding his angle, Mr. Cahn presses the little boy for answers. “But he has been bad to you?”
Sukuna’s shoulders fall. He leans forward on the table, guilt churning within his stomach. His chest clenches as he’s forced to consciously think about each breath he takes in, and each one he breathes out, manually keeping himself neutral.
At the sight of his older brother keeling over, realization comes over the little boy. “N-not on purpose,” he repeats. His voice cracks, uneasiness coming over him as he shakes his head desperately. “He tried his best. It was a long time ago,” he adds, strained. “We were both doing bad after Dad died, he just- he did his best- he-”
The little boy’s chest rises and falls frantically as you see the beginnings of the little boy shutting down. You’ve seen this very same build-up in Sukuna before, though the little Itadori’s always handled things a little differently. With nowhere to go to hide and be with his thoughts, his panic manifests as anxiety.
“That’s enough,” the judge steps in. “Please give Choso a moment. Does he have a support person here?”
Choso’s lawyer turns to face the judge. “Yuji Itadori is outside. Everyone else in Choso’s life is involved in this trial.”
“Choso, would it help to see Yuji?”
He nods, sucking in a breath as he wipes the tears welling in his eyes. “Can I see Sukuna?”
The lead judge frowns, genuine sympathy woven in the crease of her lips. “I’m sorry Choso, but I can’t allow that. Regardless of how this trial plays out, you’ll be allowed to speak with both your brother and mother, okay?”
Choso sniffles, nodding. “Okay. Can I see Yuji, then?”
“Of course. We’ll reconvene in twenty minutes. Court is now in recess,” the judge agrees without any need to discuss the matter with the other judges due to the nature of there being a child in the room. All three take leave through a back door, while Choso’s lawyer leads him out the side door.
Sukuna hasn’t moved, the muscles of his back rising and falling slowly as he regulates his own emotions. It takes a couple of minutes for him to sit upright, rubbing his face harshly with calloused hands. He pauses as a finger runs along his scar, serving as another reminder of his own poor mental health.
Throughout the years, his little brother has never really acknowledged Sukuna’s mistakes. Sukuna’s well-aware that Choso knows. He’s aware that his little brother felt the effects of his negligence when Jin first passed away, but to hear it, even in the form of a vague statement, strikes something deep within him.
He’s not sure if that piece of himself can ever really be repaired, forever destined to be eaten away by guilt.
Yet another tick to add to the list of things Sukuna’s fucked up.
It was already on the list, of course. But now it’s in big, bold lettering. He huffs out a breath, slumping back in the chair that creaks beneath his weight.
“Can I get you some water?” His lawyer queries in a gentle voice.
“That’d be nice,” he agrees.
As she heads out the side door, Sukuna slowly pushes to his feet and makes his way to you.
“You’ve still got this,” you reassure before he even makes it all the way towards you. “There’s no way that changes anything.”
“I know,” he mutters. “Just sucks to hear.” He leans over the railing that separates the two of you, his well-coiffed hair falling out of place with how much he’s wrenched his hand through it.
Shifting forward until you’re barely an arm’s breadth away, you reach up to adjust his hair. He doesn’t protest, his eyes briefly flickering shut as you comb your fingers through his locks. Crimson irises tiredly settle on the floor as you fix his hair, a sigh causing him to shift on his forearms. He stands upright once again, reaching out to give your hand a grateful squeeze.
“Here,” Ms. Harte returns with a small paper cup of water.
“Thanks.”
“That won’t make a difference, Sukuna. She dug her own grave when she committed perjury.”
“Twice,” you add in. His lawyer cracks a smile.
“I know, I know,” he sighs. “It’s just tough.”
The lawyer nods. “I can understand that, but don’t let it get to your head.” She awaits Sukuna’s nod before beckoning him back to the table. “Let’s review closing statements.”
It’s not long before Choso is ushered back into the room along with all three judges. Everyone finds their seats as the proceedings continue. “Court is back in session. Will the counsel for the respondent please continue the cross-examination?”
Once again, Mr. Cahn adjusts his suit and stands before Choso. His eyes are red and cheeks puffy, remnants from twenty minutes ago, though he’s settled now. The dark circles beneath his eyes seem accentuated under the duress of his lowered energy.
“Hi, Choso.”
The little boy briefly looks up, staring back at his lap. “Hi,” he mumbles hoarsely.
“Let’s continue. Has your brother ever been bad to you?”
“He just forgot to make dinner sometimes after Dad died…” he mumbles, his tone pitching as he struggles not to cry again when tears well on his lash line.
“Did that happen often, Choso?”
His jaw hangs open, aware of his promise not to lie. “It h-happened a bit,” he replies, hiccupping. “Um- but his friend came to help us.”
“Thank you, Choso. Do you know what a house study is?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Do you remember any house studies being done after your father passed away?”
“Yeah.”
“Did your brother ever have a hard time passing them?”
Choso stares down at his lap, blinking. He opens his mouth a number of times before shaking his head. “I don’t remember,” he mumbles.
Sukuna’s jaw clenches. Does Choso not remember stepping in when he didn’t have answers for the Child Protective Services employee four years ago? It replays in his mind so often that he can picture the very layout of the old house right down to the three forks, two spoons, and knife in the sink.
“That’s alright, Choso. We’ll move on. Does your brother often get angry?”
Choso lifts his head, staring past the lawyer to his older brother. “Not really.”
Sukuna’s brow twitches. Really?
The little boy kicks his foot out, tacking on, “he’s grumpy, but he doesn’t get mad at us.”
As his questions continue to backfire, Mr. Cahn scrambles in a last-ditch effort to save this testimony for his side. “Choso, how’s school?”
The boy’s gaze doesn’t lift from his lap. “Fine.”
“Are the other kids nice to you in school?”
Fear flashes in his eyes. “Um… Mostly.”
“Are some kids not very nice to you, Choso?” The lawyer presses, keeping his tone even despite the nature of the question.
Choso’s gaze searches the room, clambering for some sort of reprieve from the question at hand. The silence in the room presses down around him, salty tears threatening to spill when he isn’t able to find a way out. “I- I don’t-” He shrinks back into his seat, shying away from the lawyer’s question. “Can I please just see my brother?”
“Which brother, Choso?” The judge steps in once more as Sukuna grips the table, leaning forward on his haunches as he has to restrain himself from going to his little brother.
Back when Choso got quiet and often chose to be alone, that was one thing, but this is another, very different kind of fear that Sukuna’s not familiar with. His own heart beats at a rate he can hardly handle, he can’t imagine doing this all while being twelve.
Choso doesn’t say a word, tears now running down his face as he points at Sukuna. The older brother shoots a pleading look to the judge, who presses her lips together in a thin line as she shakes her head. “No Choso, I’m sorry. You can’t see him until the proceedings are over.” She leans back in her chair, briefly speaking with the other judges, who nod, albeit hesitantly in the case of the serpentine judge under Noritoshi’s thumb. “I think we have enough on record. For the sake of the witness’ emotional well-being, the court is choosing to end the testimony. Thank you, Choso. Please wait outside.”
Sukuna’s expression hardens as Choso is ushered out by his lawyer. The little boy flips his head around, sniffling as he locks eyes with his older brother. The pink-haired man nods reassuringly to his little brother, his shoulders falling when he’s no longer in sight.
Rubbing his face with his hands, he steels himself as the proceedings continue and Ms. Donovan gives her testimony.
Over the course of Ms. Donovan’s testimony, whether by nature of having already heard what she has to say, or the fact that he doesn’t want to be put through hearing his misgivings again, he finds himself zoning out. As it stands, he’s already watched his brother fall apart over being asked about being bullied.
It’s hard to feel he’s doing the right thing when both options seem to lead to Choso suffering.
Then again… he needs to remind himself that he can fix his mistakes. He can make up for them. He can be better. For his brothers. For you. For himself.
Kaori won’t change. Choso will never stop looking at her with fear or shying away from her stern gaze. Yuji won’t grow fond of Noritoshi Kamo.
Maybe he’s not perfect, but he’s better. He can be better.
He straightens in his chair as the final witness testimony comes to a close and Ms. Donovan is escorted from the room by the bailiff. Just like the previous trial, there’s a deathly silence to the courtroom. You could hear a pin drop as everyone awaits the closing statements and each party’s submissions to the court.
Ms. Harte stands first, proud and at ease. “Your Honors, over the course of this retrial, the court has both seen and heard the ways in which this ordeal has affected the children, as well as my client himself as a step-son of Ms. Itadori. While Sukuna himself will admit that no guardian is perfect, we have seen compelling evidence today that the children themselves would like to be at his side.”
She takes a pause to let this sink in before continuing.
“Additionally, Ms. Itadori has demonstrated a refusal to admit to perjury that is clear on paper. Not only did this act of perjury affect the court’s ability to make an unbiased decision regarding the trial, it also prevented Choso Itadori from giving a testimony, stripping him of his right to speak in his own custody. This demonstrates bad faith, and has played a vital part in the fear that Choso shows in regards to his own mother.”
She takes a couple of steps towards the Justices at the center of the room.
“Our goal here today is not to decide what is best for Ms. Itadori or Mr. Sukuna, it is to decide what is in the best interest of the children. Choso Itadori himself has made it clear which guardian both him and his brother would like to be with, and Mr. Sukuna has demonstrated not only the means to improve, but the maturity required to do so, as well. My client should be awarded full custody of his brothers in order to provide a safe and familiar environment for them.”
Clasping her hands in front of her, she reaches her final point.
“Ms. Itadori’s inability to settle matters with Mr. Sukuna, in addition to her choice to bar him from seeing his brothers, and the perjury that has brought us back to trial today have caused Mr. Sukuna to burn through savings that would allow him to fund a better future for himself and the children. For this reason, we submit that the court should order the respondent to pay these damages to allow Mr. Sukuna to rebuild his savings for their future. These funds will allow him to seek professional help in order to improve himself given Ms. Itadori’s negligence in his own life, as well.”
She takes a breath, stepping back towards their table.
“Additionally, if this were a case of two biological parents, Child Support would be required to be paid upon separation of the adults. Given Ms. Itadori’s negligence over the past month, we submit further that this be paid out for the last four years and going forward until each child turns eighteen. This will ensure that both children have the resources to heal and will aid in remedying the damage done to their well-being. That is all, thank you, Your Honors.”
Mr. Cahn doesn’t falter as he takes a stand, remaining confident following Ms. Donovan’s familiar testimony. “Your Honors, we acknowledge that there was a clerical error regarding my client’s submitted evidence. As Ms. Itadori has stated, this is regrettable, but was not done with any poor intentions. My client would never attempt to deny her child the opportunity to speak during this trial.”
He clears his throat, taking steps to the center of the room.
“While I can understand that this may raise some concerns in regards to the validity of Ms. Itadori’s submitted evidence and testimony, I can attest that my client meant no harm. This is a regrettable mistake and should in no way affect the court’s ability to carry out a decision in the best interest of the children.”
Standing straight, he motions to Kaori.
“My client has demonstrated that she has the means required to support the children financially and emotionally for the rest of their lives. She has the necessary emotional maturity and maternal instincts that Mr. Sukuna lacks, and the ability to provide a nurturing and strong motherly presence that they have otherwise missed out on over the course of their lives.”
He returns to his table in order to close his remarks.
“While we acknowledge the important role that Mr. Sukuna plays in their lives, the children’s emotional well-being has been the primary focus of this trial and remains an active question. They will require monitoring that Mr. Sukuna will be unable to provide and with time the children will adjust to the change. For this reason, my client requests that no visitation be allowed at this time to the applicant and full custody be awarded to my client.” He bows to the judges. “Thank you, Your Honors.”
The judges request a moment to allow a discussion given the high-profile nature of the case necessitating a panel, taking ten minutes to discuss the case amongst themselves.
Not a muscle within the courtroom moves, even during the recess. No one can dare to breathe, even to twitch, with the weight of the decision looming ahead of them. Even Kaori’s usual easy condescension has been completely dissolved by the strength of Sukuna’s perjury accusation and Choso’s testimony as a whole.
If the earth itself could breathe, it too would hold its breath.
There’s no indicator on the Justices’ expressions when they face the court as to what decision has been made. They all take their seats, spending a moment longer to organize their notes.
Finally, Judge Cohenl sets her paperwork down and begins speaking, piercing the silence that presses down on the room.
“In the matter of the custody of Choso Itadori, twelve, and Yuji Itadori, five, Sukuna versus Itadori, the panel of Judges has come to a conclusion. We have reviewed all of the evidence presented at this retrial and submitted to the court by both parties, in addition to the witness testimonies.”
She takes a pause, her calculating gaze sweeping the room. Sukuna’s heart damn near beats out of his chest as he grips the arms of the chair so desperately it threatens to splinter under his strength.
“In order to determine what serves the best interest of the children, it’s important to first address Ms. Itadori’s submission of a false birth certificate, in addition to her testimony. The applicant today provided compelling evidence to suggest that both the birth certificate and testimony delivered were intentionally and knowingly false, constituting perjury. This is a serious matter and will require an appearance in criminal court by Ms. Itadori and investigation into the integrity of the respondent’s lawyer. You will receive a summons and are required to be present, Ms. Itadori.”
Sukuna’s lips purse as he shifts to glance at Kaori from his peripherals.
And god is it ever vindicating. Horror is spread across her features, a protest caught in her throat, lost on deaf ears. Her gaze flickers to the judge with gray curls, who shifts uneasily despite her neutral expression.
Of course at least one judge had to be under Kaori’s thumb. She just can't play nice.
“Additionally, this perjury affects our ability to rely on the respondent’s testimony and submitted evidence. For this reasoning, the court assigns no weight to Ms. Itadori’s testimony, and little weight to submitted documentation.”
Slowly but surely, Sukuna feels the weight lifting off of his chest. He may not have an answer to the trial yet, but it doesn’t take a lot to figure out where this is headed.
For the first time in what feels like months, he can breathe. He can feel his heart beat, he can feel the chair under his grip. He feels present, and here, in the moment. It’s a relief he didn’t know he needed so badly.
He doesn’t feel like a passenger behind lock and key within his own mind.
“The minor Choso Itadori’s testimony, although cut short, has concerned the court for his well-being, particularly in regards to the mother in this case, Ms. Itadori. He demonstrates clear distress when questioned about the respondent and the evidence presented from the South by SouthWest conference, known as SXSW, greatly concerns the court.”
Sukuna inhales slowly, letting the air fill his lungs. Shallow breaths don’t suffice anymore, not when he’s no longer straining to make it through each day.
“Mr. Sukuna demonstrates a willingness to grow and the means to learn in order to provide the best future for the children. For this reason, full custody of both children will be awarded to the applicant, Mr. Sukuna, beginning today. Should Ms. Itadori be in possession of any of their belongings, they will be delivered to Child Protective Services for Mr. Sukuna to pick up in one week’s time. Ms. Itadori will not be granted visitation at this time in accordance with her demonstration of bad faith.”
The brute breathes out, the breath sucked from his lungs as his hand finds his chest, emotions he hasn’t felt in months blooming within his chest. He shifts as something flutters in the base of his stomach when he’s reminded why he’s here right now. He doesn’t dare tear his gaze from the Judges, but his heart soars in his chest at the thought that you never gave up. Not on him, not on the kids.
God, he really was stupid to think you didn’t still have feelings for him. How could he not see it, all this time?
“In light of the perjury that brought this matter to a retrial, Ms. Itadori is ordered to pay child support for both children to Mr. Sukuna in accordance with Child Support guidelines. Additionally, the last five years are ordered to be paid out in addition to the full legal costs coinciding with this matter and any associated court fees. Counsel, this will be your responsibility to submit within thirty days, and must be paid subsequently within thirty days of submission.”
Clutching his chest, Sukuna’s eyes go wide in disbelief. This is the sort of decision that haunts him, the one he could have had last month, had he just…
There was no right answer, he was played, and he can accept that now. Still, he damn near pinches himself to make sure this isn’t some cruel nightmare.
“The court reminds both parties that today’s decision is in the best interest of the children. For that reason, Mr. Sukuna will be required to ensure the children receive mental health counselling within thirty days for a minimum of sixty days in order to ensure their well-being.”
He nods solemnly.
“Court is now adjourned.”
Sukuna lets out a breath, flipping his head back to you. You’re barely able to hold back your grin, eyes gleaming with what Sukuna can only assume are happy tears as you practically beam at him.
Meet you outside? He manages to read your lips. He nods, turning back to his lawyer to wrap up the trial, but his mind is elsewhere.
It’s a strange feeling, to be present once more. He’d assumed for the past month that he’d been in and out of dissociation, but he hadn’t realized the severity of it until now, finally present for the first time in months.
And all he can think of is seeing you, and finding his brothers. He knows how much you’ll hate to hear it, but he owes you. A thank you won’t cut it for everything you’ve done for him to help keep his family together.
So caught up in his own thoughts, he doesn’t even hear Kaori practically tearing into her lawyer as Noritoshi Kamo watches with a deadly silence. He barely manages to internalize the steps that Ms. Harte lays out for what the following month needs to look like, but fuck right now he needs to find you.
When at last, Ms. Harte shoots him a sympathetic smile and tells him to go get his brothers, he practically bursts from the courtroom. His head whips frantically up and down the hall, only for his brow to furrow when he spots- “Toji?”
“Ryo!” The Zenin grins, jogging towards his friend to wrap him in a hug. “Heard ya won, congrats man.”
Sukuna hugs his friend back, his confused and concentrated scowl remaining in place. “Thanks. What’re you doing here?”
“The court date was all over the news, we’re all here to support ya,” he grins, his scar pulling taut as he points a thumb behind him.
Sukuna’s crimson gaze flickering around Toji’s face for a moment, before he follows the direction of his thumb. Sure enough, just down the hall in the open waiting area, he can just barely make out a head of white hair in a small group.
Wait.
Two heads of white hair?
“Satoru’s here?” Sukuna queries, perplexed.
“Told ya. We all came. Uraume, Satoru, Kento, Suguru, n’ Shoko.”
Sukuna shakes his head slowly, his mouth going dry. Uraume and Toji he can understand, but Satoru, Suguru, Kento, and Shoko? He doesn’t need to utter the question that rests on the tip of his disbelieving tongue as he stares out at the group, unable to make out anyone from the crowd at a distance besides Uraume and Satoru, who stick out.
“You’re dense as hell, y’know that?” Toji chuckles. “Ya spent the last half a year around ‘em and didn’t think Kento, Shoko, Suguru, n’ Satoru would show?”
His shoulders fall, a sense of guilt clenching in his chest over his treatment of the whole group, though it’s overshadowed by the strange sense of warmth that wills the guilt away.
“Your girl’s over there, too,” Toji’s voice softens, “go get her.” He sets an encouraging hand on Sukuna’s shoulder, giving him a shove in the right direction before slowly trailing behind to meet up with the group.
As Sukuna approaches the group in the corner of the waiting area, he’s able to make out everyone just as Toji had indicated. He pauses in the spot where the hallway meets the large open space made up of seating and high ceilings. The drone of the room is low, an overall somber mood to the dim light of the government building, but that mood doesn’t touch him. He’s high on being alive again, and his heart batters in his ear so loud that it’s all he can hear.
As he comes into sight, Satoru spots him and speaks up, disturbing the otherwise muted feel of the room. “Heyyy congrats, man!” The white-haired man speaks up, grinning. All heads whip around towards him and he’s met with smiles he’s not sure he deserves. That doesn’t stop the fuzzy feeling that spreads through to the tips of his limbs, though.
Maybe he’ll blame the nerves for that one, and not the fact that he’s becoming a gooey mess over just how kind your friends are.
How kind his friends are.
A chorus of congratulations and jovial grins are sent his way, but his attention is elsewhere, scanning the group for one person. Kento, as observant as ever, lets a small smile penetrate his stoicism and steps aside.
You peek out from behind the blonde, unable to hide the flurry of emotions washing over you as you break into a grin at the sight of your friend. His expression is unreadable as he stares at you, his chest rising and falling so fast you would think he ran to find you.
You slip past Kento, shying away from Shoko’s knowing look as you bound towards Sukuna. “I knew you’d win!”
Before you can make it to him, Sukuna comes to a decision he should have made long ago as he takes long strides to meet you. His large hands don’t hesitate to settle on either of your cheeks as he leans down to crash his lips into yours.
Caught off-guard by the sudden movement, Sukuna swallows your gasp. Your hands quickly find his chest, clinging to the taut black dress shirt material hanging from his broad shoulders. Growing more sure of himself, he slides a hand into your hair, tilting your head as he deepens the kiss and the world falls away.
Smoke and mint invade your senses as his lips move against yours. His heart thrums fast and hard beneath your fingers in unison with yours as your whole body tingles and melts into him. It’s needy, affectionate, and desperate all wrapped into one as he pours his emotions into the kiss like you’re the air he breathes.
The chorus of squeals and quiet cheers behind you aren’t lost on you, but you can’t help the smile that breaks your concentration when you hear, “fucking finally.”
“Shut up, Satoru,” Shoko hisses, causing a laugh to bubble in your throat.
Just as you begin to giggle, Sukuna pulls away enough to breathlessly murmur, “ignore them.” He wraps one arm around your waist and spins you both so that his back faces the peanut gallery, his mass effectively blocking their view. He keeps one arm locked around your waist while the other cradles your cheek, putting every last ounce of passion into the kiss like words aren’t enough.
Like they’ll never be enough.
There’s so much to be said, to be shared, so many experiences Sukuna longs for with you, and he can’t possibly begin to imagine where to begin. The pads of his fingers curl into your waist, pulling you flush to his broad chest like he can’t bear to have any space between you. The peaks of valleys of his abs are pressed tightly to your middle, causing a little smile to break through your kiss. You slide your hands up his shoulders as your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck.
He’s forced to pull back for air, blinking as he takes in your appearance. You see the way he lingers on your kiss-swollen lips before meeting your eyes, flickering around as though he’s trying to memorize every minute movement you make while his chest quickly rises and falls.
There’s a little scowl on his face as he holds you close, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s not from anger or frustration, it’s something else.
“What’s-”
“Thanks, princess,” he murmurs before you have a chance to ask what’s on his mind. His lips brush yours, chapped but wet from the passionate kiss you’ve shared.
You can’t help the lopsided smile on your face as you slide your hands forward to cup his face. Your thumbs glide along his clean-shaven jaw, tracing the tattoos that line his chin. “You don’t have to thank me.”
He frowns. “I owe you for all of this.”
You shake your head, your thumb continuously brushing his cheek in reassurance of your adoration. Just as you part your lips to reply, a familiar shrill voice catches your attention.
“Kuna?”
You separate from Sukuna, warmth filling your heart as you turn to face Yuji. You can’t help the tears that well in your eyes as the little boy rips his hand from the Child Services agent to barrel into his older brother at full force, nearly toppling them both over as Sukuna kneels down. Covering your lips, you giggle at the sight, overcome with joy as your friend, if you can even still call him that, smiles genuinely.
“Hey, kid,” Sukuna mumbles, relief coursing through his veins as he hugs his little brother tightly. “You alright?”
Yuji sniffles as he clings to Sukuna. His voice has a croak to it, as though he’s spent more time crying than Sukuna wants to know about. “Please don’t leave us again,” he pleads, clinging to his older brother’s suit as though this could all be ripped out from under him again.
The brute’s heart sinks as he squeezes his brother tighter. He blinks fast in an effort to fight off the tears gathering on his lash line. “I won’t. Promise.” He pulls back just enough to get a good look at Yuji. The little boy’s cheeks are puffy, eyes reddened, but he seems okay otherwise. “Do you know where Cho is?”
“Um-” Yuji spins in Sukuna’s arms as his eldest brother stands up with the child balanced on his hip. He points towards the hallway Sukuna had come from. “He was in there somewhere. Talking to someone.”
Sukuna nods, but before he can take a step, Choso is led by another Child Protective Services caseworker down the hall, coming into sight. His brown eyes go saucer-wide as he spots his brothers, tugging on the suit of the employee he’s with as he points. She gives him some sort of signal to go ahead and he timidly jogs up to Sukuna.
“Thank god,” Sukuna murmurs under his breath, kneeling again and opening his free arm as Choso approaches. “You did great today, Cho.”
Choso slots himself into Sukuna’s embrace, wrapping his short arms around both brothers as silent tears stream down his face. “I cried the whole time I was there,” he mumbles into Sukuna’s suit jacket, clinging tightly to his shirt as his body quietly trembles.
“So? It’s fuckin’ scary and I’m twice your age.”
“It’s scary for you?”
Sukuna nods, soothingly rubbing the boy’s back. “‘Course.”
Choso nods against Sukuna’s chest. The eldest brother doesn’t dare move, lest he accidentally upset the middle brother more, opting to just hold and comfort them both silently. Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you gleefully watch the sweet exchange, fighting to give them their moment before you get to greet the boys.
When Choso finds his footing and his breathing evens out, Sukuna pulls back just enough to see him, examining the way his brother’s already-poor mental health took a toll on him while he was with Kaori. He presses his lips into a thin-line at the sight of Choso’s mussed hair and sunken eyes. “Hey. I told you I’d fix things, right?”
Choso nods. “You kept your promise.”
Something between a smile and scowl twists on the brute’s features. “Yeah. ‘M gonna be better, Cho.”
Choso tilts his head earnestly. “You already are the best,” he murmurs.
Sukuna’s throat tightens and his tears overwhelm him. He pulls Choso and Yuji close, enveloping them both in a tight hug as he actively fights his trembling breathing. He jolts at the feeling of something on his back, relaxing once he feels a soothing touch gently running up and down his spine.
He knows you only mean to comfort him, but the way it makes his heart leap only sends him spiralling further as his tears come faster.
He’s never been a lucky guy. He’ll never win the lottery or bet on the right horse. He’s not even lucky enough to come across much more than a handful of cash on the ground. Everything he’s ever had he’s had to work hard for- lest he lose it- and there’s no exception to that rule when it comes to his family, but for once he doesn’t feel spite towards the world for it. He doesn’t curse whatever god will listen, because he found something worth fighting for, and luck has nothing to do with it.
As his breathing finally evens out, he blinks away his tears, hiding his face from his little brothers as he inhales slowly and stands upright with Yuji still in his arms and one hand resting atop Choso’s head. “Hey, you guys see who’s here with me?”
Sukuna twists to reveal you standing behind him. Yuji gleefully calls your name, reaching one arm out to hug you, though he flat-out refuses to let go of his older brother. You hug him back, wiping the tears from his puffy cheeks. “I missed you, sweetheart.”
“Missed you too!” He cheers through blubbering sniffles, wiping his face on his little red hoodie. “You guys were with me the whole time just like you said,” he adds, holding his wrist proudly out to you where the two woven twine bracelets are tied.
“See, not so scary when Kuna and I are with you, huh?”
He doesn’t even realize it, but Sukuna smiles when you call him that familiar nickname for the first time in a long while.
You can’t hide your proud smile as Yuji leans back into Sukuna, resting his head on his older brother’s shoulder. He must have tired himself out crying, but not enough that he doesn’t notice the group of people staring at him from over Sukuna’s shoulder. “Who’s that?” he points.
Sukuna lifts his hand from Choso’s head to quickly wipe his face before turning to face his friends, slowly heading back towards them as he tells Yuji who they are. Choso watches his older brother carefully for a moment, but once he’s satisfied the eldest doesn’t seem to be going far, he pads into your arms when you kneel. “Thank you,” he murmurs as you tightly envelop him in a hug.
“For what, honey?”
“For helping Kuna.”
You smile, rustling the little boy’s hair as he pulls back. He shakes his head to move the hair from his eyes, brushing as much as he can behind his ears.
“I’m always here for you three, okay?”
Choso quietly nods, staying close to you as you stand straight and lead the way to Sukuna. Each of your friends coos and introduces themselves in turn to the kids, all thrilled to see the other side of the man they once thought of as a delinquent. Toji comes to give a fist-bump to the two boys and Uraume hugs them in turn.
Staring at something past Sukuna, Satoru mutters, “shit, is that them?”
Sukuna’s head whips around to find Kaori sneering at him as she makes her way to the door while Noritoshi remains stoic, though one look at him tells you he’s nothing short of furious. The billionaire mogul hasn’t said a single word throughout the length of the trial, but his thoughts on the loss come across clearly.
Sukuna sets Yuji down, stepping in front of both of the young boys while he pulls you closer by your waist protectively, standing as a blockade as both parties exchange scorching glares. He doesn’t let his guard down until she’s long out of sight, grateful she’s too proud to say anything, particularly in front of the boys.
“Alright!” Satoru claps his hands loudly, making multiple people jump as he gathers the attention of your group, along with a plethora of onlookers. Shoko smacks his arm lightly, irritation crossing her face. Undeterred, he continues. “Ice cream on me? That sound good, kiddos?”
“Choso?” Satoru grins, thrilled to be met with a little shy nod.
Sukuna lets out a soft sigh, though he trades in his usual look of disinterest for a relieved, albeit tired smile. “You heard the kids.”
Yuji lifts his hands excitedly. “YAYYYYY!” He cries out. Sukuna can’t even be bothered to shush him despite receiving dirty looks throughout the waiting room. As far as he’s concerned, let them send every disdainful look his way. It doesn’t matter, not when he finally has his family at his side.
He casts a glance at you, his smile widening as he finds you already beaming up at him. He reaches out to pull you into him, kissing the crown of your head as Yuji takes his other hand.
As long as he has the three of you at his side, the world seems a hell of a lot easier to face.
main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon
❦ a/n ; WOW hi it's been a while!! sorry for the delay, i got SUPER sick after my trip (worth it though, mcr was a blast) and could barely sit up let alone write and it lasted for like 10 days 😭 work and sickness really worked against me here but i'm finally back!! i'm hoping for good, i'm super behind on reading and keeping up with my moots and lovely readers but i'm excited to really get back into it <33
i put a lot of research into the trial and i hope i've done it justice <3 legal proceedings are still so confusing but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out and the balance i think (?) i've struck between realism and a more hollywood-style court scene. if you see a mistake... no you didn't :) tysm to all the lovely people who helped with it!!
i thought about splitting this chapter up but ending things right before the trial felt like too much of a tease and i just desperately wanted to write that last scene LOL, i hope it was worth the wait 🫶 i've had that scene in my head since like chapter 5, i never could have imagined that it would take 15 more chapters to get there 😅 i really meant slow when i said slow burn apparently. my friend pointed out that the wc is about to surpass the entire chronicles of narnia which is wild and i never would have believed anyone had they told me how long this would be, but i've really enjoyed the journey and i'm so thrilled with what it's become
i know i've mentioned it here and there but this was supposed to be a oneshot (LOL) so i'm super grateful for the support and really excited to be able to continue to share more wyk with you, especially now that there's a lot of fluff and smut in my fave couple's future 🤭
anyway i'm yapping but thank you sm for all the love and i'd love love love to hear everyone's thoughts on this chapter, i really hope everyone enjoyed 🫶
❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.
track fifteen: hanging by a moment | prev track< | setlist
two plane tickets to paradise - or perhaps a new circle of hell
synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens
pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna
content: mdni, angst and fluff! suguru is crashing out lmfao, HEAVY PINING, him and Sukuna both want us back bad, reminiscing/nostalgia, messy relationships, complicated feelings, emotional turmoil, reader repressing feelings, everyone trying to repair relationships lol, even some hand holding wow, confessions of sorts, desperate men, Sukuna is down so incredibly bad it's not even funny anymore guys (songs talked about are not specifically mentioned by name or lyrics so imagine what you want but personally I think of this and this (for the cover)
a/n: art by @winterrbluess + divider by @/d-oie <3 sorry for any missed typos/autocorrect!!
"You're fired."
Suguru regretted a lot of things. Not doing this sooner was one of them.
But he had to start righting his wrongs somewhere.
"You're funny, Sugu," Manami giggled, and for the first time in his life, Suguru briefly contemplated raising his voice at a woman. He wasn't her Sugu. You were the only person who could call him that.
Even if you never did again.
"I'm not joking," He deadpanned. "You're fired."
He watched the gears slowly turn in her brain, like she was finally figuring out how much he couldn't stand her after he'd spent the past few years trying so goddamn hard to hide it. To be the better man and push down his feelings of disdain and handle her so Satoru wouldn't have to. To suck it up and sacrifice his comfort so the band wouldn't be put in a worse position.
Just for all the things he'd tried so hard to protect to get wrecked in the process.
The girls' privacy. His friendship with Satoru. You.
Manami's face shifted. From surprise to hurt to flat-out anger. Shifting behind her desk, nails clicking against the wooden lacquer as she sat up straighter. Pretending to be a professional now.
"You can't fire me," She protested, mouth hanging open as he pulled out the file he prepared beforehand.
"I can, actually," He reminded her, flipping it open and directing her attention to one of the clauses highlighted in the contract he printed out two days ago. "I'm the acting representative for our band. And you violated several clauses in your contract."
One of her carefully-plucked eyebrows twitched, and he could see her attempting to judge how much he knew - and what to say to not reveal more.
But Suguru wasn't the only one who shot himself in the foot lately.
All it had taken was a phone call to convince her that he needed to see her privately for a few minutes. Although he hadn't expected to run into you in the process. He could see the assumption on your face when she showed up, the ache in it.
Suguru didn't have time to say what he wanted to. Not nearly enough minutes to make you understand that he'd give anything to get you back - and meeting with Manami was unfortunately mandatory to making that happen.
He only needed five minutes.
Nodding even when she put her hand on his forearm and planted a kiss on his cheek that felt like poison, insisting on him and the girls joining her for a bite to eat. He agreed, even asking pointless questions across the table from her about marketing their next single before asking for her phone, coming up with some story about getting a new work phone and wanting to give her the number for it.
And it was petty, probably questionable parenting, but he leaned down to whisper and promise Nanako a new toy if she spilled her drink on Manami, and his baby girl delivered.
Manami gasped, halfway through swearing before she caught herself and muttered she had to go to the bathroom to clean up through gritted teeth.
Forgetting her phone was still in Suguru's hand.
He wasn't positive about what he'd find before - but it somehow managed to be worse than he thought.
There were the photos of you and Satoru on there. Not just the one that ended up everywhere, but other more innocent ones where it was obvious you were just chatting. All the after-breakfast photos were there too. All the ones he'd blamed you for.
He hid his frown. Struggled to keep his expression neutral while he waited for her to come back, quickly working to screenshot and send the original files to himself. It didn't take much through her email to find proof of her selling the scummy photos to some sleazy gossip sites too.
But the worst bit was one he hadn't even been looking for.
A notification dropping down from the top of the screen.
Satoru Gojo arrived at: Home.
Suguru had never clicked anything so fast, and felt his stomach sink through the fucking floor when the app loaded - and saw a marker with his name on it too. Currently placed at the restaurant he was on.
Manami had everyone's locations.
What the hell?
It'd taken a while after that weekend to get all the proof lined up - all his facts in a neat folder and lawyers contacted to make sure he checked every box before he cut her off completely. Done legally and by-the-book to keep a snake like her from slithering back in.
"I know you've been tracking us," Suguru calmly said, doing his best to retain that collectedness he used to pride himself on when he was clenching his fist in his lap. "You sold those photos too."
"My job is to keep you in the press," She nervously chittered, her own composure slipping.
"Your job was to also keep my daughters out of it," He bluntly replied.
There was no repairing that. Even if every article and archive was taken down, the photos had been saved and shared thousands of other places. He couldn't erase that.
"It was bound to happen eventually," Manami started to make excuses, not even apologizing for her part in screwing up his life. Not even a goddamn sliver of remorse for exposing his daughters to the public. "Besides, it was good for your image, you-"
"You'll be hearing from our lawyer soon," Suguru shut her up. "Get out before security makes you."
She made a disgusted noise, holding her nose up high and haughty.
But Suguru picked the Gojo office to do it at since all it would take was a text for a guard to come drag her out. This floor was pretty private - reserved soley for the band. A rehearsal studio down the hall and offices for most of the managers and assistants. And now one was soon-to-be vacant.
"Mr. Gojo won't-"
"I need your work phone. Company property," Suguru added, holding out his hand and cocking his head to the side.
She glared at him, fumbling through her purse to find it and scowling as she grabbed it and threw it at his chest.
He caught it, staying in his chair while she went to grab a folder off the desk and he pressed it back down.
"Personal belongings only," he clicked his tongue. Daring her to disagree.
Suguru needed a win. This was as close to one as he could get.
"Fine," She hissed. Slinging his purse over her shoulder and stomping out in her designer heels.
Suguru followed her out, a few steps behind, far enough away that if she decided to whack him with it, she'd miss.
Satoru's dad would probably be pissed.
But his hands were tied. A broken contract and an incoming lawsuit had to make sure of it.
That was the only thing he could count on Gojo Senior to do - cut off the dead weight.
Manami was a liability now. He didn't keep those around long.
"You're a goddamn asshole," Manami turned one last time to send a scathing glare his way.
Satoru was hunched over in a chair, legs spread out, head slowly looking up with one earbud still in to witness the commotion. He watched her leave, a faint flicker of interest in his eyes that he was quick to disguise, glancing back down at a sheet of music in front of him.
Suguru shuffled closer, unsure what to say to the one person who used to always be on his side. Everyone else was out for lunch, missing out on the show.
His best friend looked away like he didn't notice his presence.
"I fired her," He exhaled, but the weight of it still stuck inside his chest. Satoru's head did snap up now, brows furrowed in surprise as the news set in. "Guess we'll need a new publicist."
"My dad's-"
"She sold those photos. Was tracking our locations too," Suguru shrugged. "Probably should sue her."
The lawyer he'd spent half the weekend talking to was already working on it.
"I could've told you that," Satoru snorted, then stopped as if he just pieced together the implications of the rest of it. "Well, the first part, at least."
There was a thick pause - and Suguru tried to remember the last time it'd been like this between them. Back in the rocky days when the band was starting out? Crushing on the same girl in high school? Fighting over a stupid game or who got to go down the slide first?
"How is she?" He finally managed to ask, shoulders stiff. Satoru swallowed hard, eyes shifting down like he'd been caught with the hand in the cookie jar. "You've seen her, haven't you?"
"She's okay," Satoru shrugged. "Not that I should be telling you."
Suguru hated that he was right.
But what could he do? Let you slip further away? Settle for hearing about you secondhand?
He'd spent his life fixing things. That was all he'd ever been good for. So how come he couldn't repair the one thing he broke with his own hands?
"If she still wants to see the girls, do you think you could take them out to lunch with her or something? I'll pay," Suguru slowly said, feeling like a fucking fool for resorting to this. Practically playing co-parents with the woman who he pictured as their mom some day.
He'd never been that great about saying the silent parts out loud. Thought you could feel it. That a touch said more than words could. A kiss could carry his affection better than promises other men had made a hundred times before.
All it took was a sentence to shatter it. Shatter you and him and scrub away the future he'd been fighting for.
It didn't make it any less his fault.
But he still wondered if he'd be replaying the conversation in his head for the next five years.
"I'll ask her," Satoru shrugged.
"Do you think-"
"I really don't want to get involved," He muttered before Suguru could ask. "Besides, it's probably better if you move on."
"I can't," Suguru frowned, brows furrowed as the words sank in. There weren't that many people he trusted. Okay, like, maybe three. But no one's opinion held as much weight as Satoru's did. "I'm still in love with her."
"Does she know that?" Satoru slowly asked, tired circles etched under his eyes as he reached up to ruffle his own hair.
"I tried to tell her," He murmured.
You didn't want to hear and he didn't blame you.
Satoru didn't say anything, chewing on the corner of his lips before shrugging again.
"Look, I know it's weird right now, but do you wanna come over this weekend? Watch movies? Hang out? It's been a while," Suguru suggested, trying to sound casual. You weren't the only person he missed.
Satoru hesitated, and he knew the answer was no.
"I can't," He swallowed, lips pressing together in an apologetic smile.
"Hot date?" Suguru asked, hating himself for thinking that it might be you.
"Going to a festival," Satoru admitted sheepishly.
And Suguru wasn't invited.
He nodded, like it didn't bother him. Like it wasn't something they used to do together. He knew which one Satoru was referring to - they'd been one, before the girls, before the band even had a name, back when they watched a show and thought that should be them up there. Satoru looked back down to the papers in front of him, notes and words scribbled in crooked lines.
"What are you working on?" He gestured, glancing over to look, but Satoru stuffed it in his bag.
"Don't worry about it."
Suguru supposed it wasn't his right to worry about you or Satoru anymore. But sense couldn't stop him.
And what was one more bad decision? How hard would it be to score a babysitter and a last-minute VIP ticket?
Or rather, how hard was he willing to try to fix all the relationships he'd fucked up?
"Packed your shit?"
"Yeah," You grumbled, pushing your sunglasses up in your hair as Sukuna leaned against your doorframe. "You?"
"In the car," He shrugged, looking past you where your suitcase was propped against your couch.
He frowned at the disheveled state of the rest of your living room. Moving boxes scattered around. Half-packed, lazily placed. You made approximately zero progress on finding a new apartment, but Sukuna had somehow convinced the leasing office to agree to let you out of your lease early without a penalty at the end of the month - so staying wasn't an option.
After you got back from this little trip, you'd only have a few weeks to pack your stuff and find a place to move it too.
You barely managed to convince Sukuna to let you leave his pace before. Insisting that you were fine to go back home, that you had to. He bitched about it the entire night. Spent the whole evening throwing you glances and asking questions about your run-in with Suguru. He pulled you aside after Yuki and the rest of the band had passed out - admitted through gritted teeth that she wasn't supposed to tell you yet about Satoru. That he wanted to be the one to, that it was because they actually were working on a song together.
Playing nice, like you asked.
His hand had grazed over your forearm, your back against the wall in his hallway as he attempted to stumble through a stilted explanation, stumbling around something you both knew and wouldn't say.
You shrugged it off the same way you shrugged everything else off.
It didn't change anything. Didn't make it harder or easier to be around him when you hadn't expected anything different.
"I don't like you living here," Sukuna grumbled now, not that you asked. "Probably mold in the walls now."
"Probably," You agreed with a sigh.
"Any luck finding a new apartment?" He asked, stepping in and starting towards the suitcase on the floor. You watched his brow twitch as he picked it up. You waited for a snarky comment about if you put rocks in it, but he held his tongue. It was stuffed full - clothes and accessories and shoes with barely enough space to bring back a souvenir.
You wondered what exactly you'd be coming home from this trip with. Healing? Heartbreak?
"No," You exhaled harder, rubbing the back of your neck and glancing back out into the open hall.
"You could always come back," Sukuna offered, a low grumble that seemed to sit in your chest.
You could always come back.
Five words that he meant in more ways than one. Would it be easy? Could you go back? Be with him?
Did he want to be your best friend? Your boyfriend? Would both ever be an option?
"We should probably head to the airport," You cleared your throat. Your breathing was shallow, sharp. Lungs straining to suck in the air, blocked before the oxygen could reach them.
"Yeah."
You glanced up from your hands up to his face, and something about this image of him sent a pang through your heart, one where he was standing in your living room, suitcase in hand, a hoodie clinging to his shoulder and hiding his hair, jaw locked and dark eyes settled solely on you.
It reminded you of moving in here. When you made him carry in all your boxes, even though there hadn't been many of them back then. Watching him wipe the sweat off the back of his forehead and complain about how much furniture he had to build.
You hadn't asked him to.
But he had anyway.
Spent a weekend with a toolbox he bought to keep at your place, cursing at pieces of wood and bitching about missing screws until it looked like someone lived there. Muttering that all this shit would be a pain in the ass to move out later.
You guessed you'd just hire movers this go-around.
"Keys," Sukuna huffed, and you blinked, snapping out of it as he nodded towards where your keys and purse were still on your coffee table.
"Thanks," You swallowed hard.
You grabbed your keys first, but he beat you to your purse, holding it like it was his.
Locking the door behind you felt like leaving a piece of yourself behind. It wasn't like you weren't coming back - it was just the unshakable feeling you wouldn't be returning the same person.
He carried your stuff down, standing too close in the elevator, his arm brushing constantly against yours while he impatiently tapped his foot.
Stuffed your suitcase on top of his in the trunk, mumbling under his breath that they'd sent all their instruments and stuff ahead of them.
You nodded along numbly, climbing into his passenger seat as he held out your purse for you to take. You readjusted the straps of it, moving your legs to drop it by your feet.
"You've been quiet," He commented, a little irritated.
"Have I?" You dismissed, even though you knew it was true.
You weren't trying to give him the cold shoulder - but being with him, even just like this, it was confusing.
Sometimes, it felt like you were just condemning yourself to more cruelty. Sinking into him, quicksand swallowing you up more with every stare that lingered and searing touch that stained your skin.
It was easier feeling low. When everything was bad, it couldn't get much worse. But healing? Clawing your way to the surface and knowing a wrong step could send you tumbling back down? That was the hard part.
You'd seen Sukuna at seven and seventeen. Been there for his birthdays and bad days. But this version of him, the one that dredged up the dead parts of you and dared you to dream about something different, he felt like a stranger you knew almost everything about.
One that offered something the old him used to hate. Hope.
He always droned on about dragging yourself to get wherever you wanted in life, grinding and gritting your teeth until it was yours despite the cost. And here he was, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose while he stole glances over at you.
Stepping back to step forward with you. Give you space where you needed it and staying when he didn't have to.
What were you supposed to do with that?
When Suguru lingered on the back of your mind and the aftermath of sleeping together had shattered your friendship once already?
You used to reach over and change the radio station or slide a CD in the slot without a second thought. But now you were sitting and shivering in the shotgun seat because you weren't sure just how casual this was supposed to be.
Neither of you had ever been good at that anyway.
"You cold?" Sukuna grumbled, glancing over quickly when you rubbed the goosebumps on your arms.
"A little," You muttered.
He switched it to heating, grunting something under his breath about telling him or changing it yourself.
When you got to the airport, he dug one of his hoodies out of his suitcase in the parking lot and pulled it over your head before you could protest. Coming up with an excuse inside to tug you closer to him, scowling at the TSA agent who tried to pull you aside to check your bags.
It felt like some invisible thread was seconds from snapping by the time you actually boarded the plane, first-class. Whether that was courtesy of Sukuna or his label, you weren't sure you should know.
"We should be able to check in once we get to the hotel," He muttered, fiddling with the buttons on the side of his seat to figure out how to work the recline and make room for his ridiculously long legs.
"Okay," You tried to smile, but there was an uncomfortably distinct fluttery feeling in your stomach when he rested his forearm on your armrest. Fingertips tracing a small shape on the back of your hand as he exhaled and looked around the rest of the cabin.
Was Sukuna seriously giving you butterflies? Old feelings stirring up? Or new ones sprouting?
Being stuck next to Sukuna in tin can in the sky didn't make deciding any easier.
"You wanna watch a movie or somethin'?" He grunted, leg bouncing with irritation? Anxiety?
"Shouldn't you, like, sleep?" You asked, glancing out the small window of the plane. The sun was setting outside, thin clouds dotting overhead, your brain throbbing inside the skull from the stress of taking a trip with your former situationship slash friend. When you turned back to Sukuna, his face was a little green, lips pressed together in a thin line.
"I'm fine," He swallowed, but he was clenching his fists.
You didn't know why you did it. Okay, you did, but you couldn't admit it the same way Sukuna couldn't admit he felt sick. Reaching over to uncurl his fingers from where they were digging into his palm, slipping your hand there for him to hold and squeeze instead.
Sukuna was a lot of things.
Your best friend. A rock star. An asshole most of the time. A guy with a body count probably the size of the passenger manifest.
And apparently a nervous flyer.
Not that he was awake long enough to feel the turbulence. Despite arguing otherwise, he passed out half an hour later, a death grip on your hand even asleep.
Snoring softly next to you, lips parted and a little bit of spit collecting in the corner of his mouth that you reluctantly reached over to wipe clean with the sleeve of your (his?) hoodie. He was said your name. Soft. Low. From the back of his throat.
Dreaming about you.
The only time he ever looked content was unconscious. Head at an awkward angle, all those harsh edges of his hidden under the mask of sleep. Eyes shut, lashes fluttering just slight enough to give away the movement underneath them. You could stare. Study his features half the night when he wouldn't be able to catch you doing it.
You didn't mean to doze off too. But he was nudging you awake as people were filing off, your head on his shoulder and his fingers still interlocked with yours. Still foggy, you faintly considered whether strangers might think you were a couple as you yawned and blinked back sleep.
The world felt hazy, the night sky starting to grow lighter through the big airport windows, his hand refusing to let go when he led you outside to catch a late (or really early) cab.
He loaded up your suitcases, keeping you close and insisting you lean on him when you nearly tripped on a crack in the pavement on the way out.
"You're a mess," He muttered, supporting your weight with a hand around your waist as he yanked open the door to the cab's backseat.
"Yeah," You agreed, wishing you had a coffee or any kind of caffeine climbing in. A twinge of hurt was in your voice, not that he'd actually been the one to wound you. He wasn't trying to be an asshole, just trying to tease, to play around like the two of you used to. "I am."
But there really wasn't any going back to those times.
You could sleep on his shoulder and he could mock you without meaning it, but it would never be the same. There was no button you could press or clock you could rewind.
And still, a part of you had started to think that wasn't the worst thing in the world anymore. That moving forward - and finding a spot in your heart for him again - could be precisely what you needed.
"There's nothing wrong with being a mess," He added under his breath, leaning over you to grab the seat belt and buckle you in.
"I don't know about that," You dryly laughed, rubbing the corner of your eyes.
He shot you a look that said this topic wasn't over. But then the driver asked about where he was supposed to go, and Sukuna had to answer him.
By the time he looked back to continue the conversation, you were resting your head against the glass, eyes closed again, chest slowly rising and falling as you pretended to fall back asleep.
He bought it.
Or maybe he didn't, and decided to just not call you on it. Either way, when you got to the hotel, you let him poke your cheek to 'wake' you up and groggily got out of the car. Trailing a few steps behind him, suitcase rolling over tiny bits of rocks and gravel into the lobby of some overpriced hotel with a built-in bar and restaurant. You were sure there was a pool somewhere - one with warm towels and a hot tub.
"Here you go," Sukuna grunted, holding out two room key cards. One marked 723. A second marked 724. You hesitantly took both, the hard corners digging into your palm as your stare slowly shifted from them up to him. "One for my room too, just in case."
"In case what, exactly?" You tilted your head to the side, sleep still lingering in your tired limbs, voice thick with exhaustion.
He just shrugged. Tired circles under his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a faint smirk.
"Anything."
You slept worse in the hotel than you had on his shoulder.
Sukuna woke you back up a few hours later anyway, not that you'd really been resting. You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, letting the edges drag along the floor while you dragged yourself to the door, his knuckles still pounding on the other side while you peeked through the peephole.
"Who is it?" You yawned, watching his jaw tighten and then release as he realized you were teasing him.
"Let me in," He held up a bag of food. Breakfast or lunch or whatever meal it was supposed to be time for.
You huffed, flipping the lock and pulling open the door just enough to peer through it.
"You didn't say who it was," You complained and he threw you a half-annoyed look, wedging his foot between the door or frame to keep you from shutting it on him.
"Someone who brought your favorite," He scoffed and you rolled your eyes at him before actually letting him in.
"Set it on the table," You shrugged, sighing as you squinted through the thick-paned windows outside at the sun. "I need a shower first."
"Mind making it quick? Band is meeting in an hour for a rehearsal." He sounded almost as exhausted as you, dropping the bag on the coffee table and collapsing on the corner of the couch. He took up most of it, long legs spread out as he got comfortable and leaned his head back to catch a few more minutes of rest.
"Am I invited?" You hesitantly asked, hearing the awkwardness in your own voice, the slight lilt as you stepped back towards the bathroom.
He chuckled, like you said something absurd before answering in a gravelly voice, "You're always invited."
Today, you'd try to believe him.
Enough that you went with him, hiding behind sunglasses and loose clothes to avoid being noticed by the number of fans probably already in the area for the same reason you were.
To see the show.
And yeah, you weren't really a part of it, but walking into the studio space they'd rented for however long, instruments already there and half the band practicing, it felt like you were a member anyway.
"Gojo's plane should've landed like, two hours ago," Sukuna frowned at his phone, and you were still kind of baffled at the fact they were really going through with it.
Did his dad approve? Did Suguru even know?
"Is he supposed to be here soon?" You asked, leaning over to look at his phone too, just to see back-and-forth texts between two men you never thought would end up acquaintances, let alone friends.
Sukuna would deny it, but the texts, the teasing and trying to get along, all of it looked like a fucking friendship from where you were standing.
He needed one anyway.
"He better be," Sukuna huffed, shutting his phone off and sliding it back in the pocket of his jeans.
The door swung open, but it was just Choso walking through. His hair was down for once, bangs brushing over his forehead and a cigarette dangling between his lips. For a short, painful second, you thought he was someone else.
"Hey," He nodded towards the two of you. His eyes lingered on you longer, and he reached up to take the cigarette out with a small puff of smoke. "Glad you came."
"Yeah, me too," You muttered, and he noticed the way you were looking at the pale stick between his fingers.
"Want one?" Choso offered, using his other hand to dig out the pack from his pocket and hold it out.
After the past couple months?
You were tempted to take one too - but you knew who the taste would remind you of.
"Nah," You shook your head. When the fuck had he picked up the habit anyway? "I better not catch you smoking one of those around Yuji."
Choso's face somehow managed to get paler at your teasing, and he quickly snuffed the cigerette out in the closest ashtray, like the little chubby-legged toddler would somehow stumble through the door.
Which, coincidentally, happened to creak open seconds later, the arrival of a different (man) child apparently summoned by sheer thought.
Sukuna was already scowling.
Satoru's stare immediately slid over to you, a cheeky smirk spreading across his lips as he took off a dark pair of shades.
"Miss me?"
"No," Sukuna answered for you, apparently eager to start arguing as you slipped away to sit on the only couch in the room, even though it kind of reeked of cologne and sex and smoke.
Gojo plopped down on the already sunken-in cushion next to you, a goofy hat pulled over his hair like it would hide the wild white strands poking out underneath it.
"Nice hat," You stifled a giggle, pulling it down lower just for him to lightly smack your hand and laugh.
"Wanna wear it?" He offered, taking it off on his own and popping it on your own.
Sukuna snatched it off, throwing it back at Satoru's chest.
"He probably has lice," He interrupted, scowling as he huffed.
"Do not," Satoru protested, bottom lip pushed out and brows twitching at the accusation.
"Whatever, let's run through the setlist, break, and then we'll practice the ones where you'll be up there with us," Sukuna was glaring, gritting his teeth while he said it.
But Satoru just casually shrugged, unbothered and unburdened.
You heard most of the songs they were performing live before, not that you ever got sick of it. But it was different in an intimate space like this, when Sukuna's eyes kept flicking over to yours, checking for approval or affection in them.
Satoru leaned over three songs in, brushing your hair aside to whisper in your ear.
"Suguru fired Manami," He murmured, and your head swiveled around, blinking at him like you couldn't believe it.
"You're lying," You accused under your breath.
"Nope," He grinned. "She's gone. He found proof that she was the one that sold all those photos of us and the ones with the girls. Gonna sue her and everything."
You held your tongue, stopped yourself from saying anything that might betray yourself. Any traitorous feelings about him that were still stuck under the surface.
Instead, you forced yourself to look ahead, trying to go back to listening like you weren't thinking about what Satoru said. About the fact you had a threesome with them and somehow ended up sitting here with the one that wasn't yours.
"He asked-"
"Um, Satoru?" You murmured, your brain branching off to a new line of rather unfortunate thinking at the reminder of that night. The proof of it.
"Yeah?" He asked like you hadn't interrupted him, face shifting into an almost serious expression.
"Could both of you delete your copies of that tape?" You whispered it, although you doubted Sukuna could hear while he was busy singing and playing.
It just felt wrong to speak. Like a big red sign saying WHORE would start flashing over your head.
"Yeah, sure," Satoru nodded, a small crease between his brows at your soft request.
You had kinda hoped they already had after the breakup, but honestly, you hadn't.
It was still sitting in some hidden folder on your laptop at home, untouched. You'd have to pull it up to delete it, and for some stupid reason, you hadn't been able to bring yourself to do it.
The next song ended, and you started to stand, mumbling under your breath that you were going to run to the bathroom. Concern flashed across Satoru's face, nervously tapping his foot when you got up to go.
Except, when you went out to the hall, you weren't alone.
"Are you okay?"
You glanced back at Sukuna, his guitar still slung across his chest, nose scrunched just a little like he was trying to figure out the answer for himself.
"Fine," You nodded, gesturing back down the hall to the sign marked bathrooms. "I'll be right back."
"Promise?" He breathed, and the absurdity in his sincerity almost made you laugh.
"You want me to promise?" You raised an eyebrow.
"Every time you walk out the door," He hesitated, and you could see he was struggling to find something not sappy to say. Something real and raw. "I wonder how long it'll be until I see you again. If it's the last time."
"Where would I go?" You retorted, tilting your head to the side.
"I don't know," He admitted. "I just want to be wherever it is with you."
"Well, right now, that's the bathroom," You did laugh now, light and soft. Some of the queasiness in your stomach settled, the panic in your veins tempering out as he stepped closer.
"Well, if you decide to make a break for it afterwards, I'll chase you down." You couldn't tell if it was a joke. Not when he was still practically pouting over you going to the toilet without him.
"You wouldn't miss me that much," You rolled your eyes.
"We're about to do the new song. I want you to be the first one to hear it," Sukuna admitted, arms still crossed over his broad chest. "Not like-"
"No live broadcast?" You tried to tease, offering an anxious smile. It was small, but genuine.
"Just you," He muttered, and you wished you didn't know what it meant.
But feigning innocence didn't come easily with him.
He saw through your bullshit.
You'd just never been good at discerning his.
Couldn't tell if this was real or fake - what you wanted it to be.
"I'm coming back," You reassured him, sighing softly. "Five minutes."
And even though you spent three and a half of that staring at your reflection in the mirror practicing expressions in the mirror, you still went back in when you told him you would. Went past all of them and back to your place on the couch, curling up against the armrest to watch like nothing happened and nothing had been said.
Satoru walked back over to take off his sweatshirt, the shirt underneath riding up to reveal the tattoo you'd seen once. You started to look away, but then he tossed it at you to snap your attention back to him.
"You'll like it," He casually said, winking.
"I dunno," You teased, making yourself smile. He returned it easily, laughing a little as you continued, "I can be a bit of a critic, you know?"
"Cut us some slack," Satoru pretended to pout. "Don't we get some points if it's about you?"
You don't know why him saying it so bluntly made your stomach drop. Why all your organs seemed to stop functioning, freezing in place as you tried and failed to breathe.
"Come on," You started to say, low and under your breath, wanting to call bullshit when you believed him.
When you'd known from the second Sukuna pulled you aside in the hall in his apartment, that he was being weird about all of it because it was another attempt at telling you a truth that was too hard to accept.
"All I do lately is sing songs about you," Satoru winked, turning to walk back towards his waiting guitar.
Sukuna was watching you behind one of the mics. Tuning his strings and staring when you looked eyes with him. Waiting for something. For you, maybe.
This song hurt more than the first song did. You couldn't put your finger on why, what specific string or chord or line splayed your heart open and peeled it open for him.
It wasn't quite as haunting. Didn't make you sick to your stomach or stick into your skin like a needle from a shot missing the vein. It wasn't as raw or regretful. But the pain was there. The yearning. Pleading for something he knew he shouldn't have.
Telling you he was in love with you in a song since he couldn't say it directly in a sentence or conversation.
Maybe that was it - maybe it was that you couldn't look away here. Face-to-face and forced to feel it too, the room shrinking into something that barely fit both of you.
It was louder, heavier drums and harder riffs, Satoru singing backup for half of it and a verse of his own to carry - but you knew automatically that it'd be an even bigger hit than either of their last singles.
Did his dad know he was here? Did Suguru?
The song transitioned into another one - a cover that somehow felt even more pointed at you. Enough that you were breathless and shuffling in your seat, barely shouldering the weight of love longing you didn't want to come clean and say you shared.
Then came a couple more of their older songs, Satoru knowing when to step up to the mic and handling some of the backup chords here and there. But his presence was a performance of its own, natural and magnetic, your attention drifting by itself over to him more than it should - much to Sukuna's annoyance. He'd wink and wave and throw you little knowing glances like he thought every word was meant for you.
They sounded better together than you imagined, more natural than it should. How long would it take for photos and videos of them to be replaced every photo and rumor that had been posted before? How long would you have to wait until you were just another forgotten piece of the gossip mill?
You wanted to be happy for him.
So you smiled when they finished and promised that you thought they were amazing. That you loved it. Let Satoru clap his hand over your shoulder and Yuki squeal in your ear and squeeze you tight too.
Pretended that you weren't thinking about the chances Sukuna would be skyrocketed into another new level of fame and you'd be forgotten too.
This was his dream. What he always wanted. What you wanted for him. Because even if you weren't, you still wanted him to be happy, to have the life he'd fought so hard for. Where he wouldn't be stuck with shitty gigs and his songs would be on the radio and he'd receive all the recognition and awards he deserved.
You just weren't really where you fit in anymore.
If a second chance would just end with your heart shattered in a penthouse instead of at a party.
"God, I'm starving," Yuki complained, packing up her drumsticks and snagging her purse.
"Wanna grab a bite to eat?" Choso's suggested, glancing from Yuki over to where you were currently squished between the two men who'd just spent half an hour fucking serenading you.
"I think I'm gonna get a ride back to the hotel," You excused yourself, jutting your thumb back towards the door and stepping back.
"I'll go with you," Sukuna said before you could stop him, following you out - and leaving everyone else behind.
You didn't think it could get more awkward.
"What'd you think?" Sukuna eventually asked as you glanced out the window, and you let go of a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.
"You guys sounded great together," You skirted around what he was really asking. Talking with your hands and half-rambling so you wouldn't have to answer the question. "It'll go like gold, or platinum, or whatever it's called."
Steal the number one spot in the charts if they released it the same night - although you weren't sure if they would or if it was in some weird legal thing considering you didn't really know much about Satoru's contract.
You'd watched from the sidelines. Support them from there.
That was safe. You couldn't get hurt from there - even if everything about Sukuna made you want to risk it again.
He already spent years putting his career before you. Things were changing, sure, but that was still the path he'd chosen. What he picked.
"But what do you think?" He reiterated right as the car pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.
"Kuna," You exhaled, trying to say it without saying it - kind of like he got around that one little four letter word.
He sucked in a harsh breath, digging through his pocket for a cash tip to hand the driver while you got out. You took the chance to slip out, walking ahead of him and picking up the pace to make it to an elevator before he caught up.
Unfortunately, he actually meant it when he said he'd chase you down.
And while you were busy pressing the lit-up elevator button, he was rushing after you, a hand on your side and a curse under his breath for making him sprint right as the door slid open.
"Caught you," He huffed, holding you tighter like you were his trophy for it.
"You're literally the worst," You lied, looking down at your feet next to his before he tugged you into the elevator.
"Leave me then," He dared. You guessed you'd done it before. "Or tell me to go."
You didn't say anything.
Because deep down, you didn't want him to. Didn't want the distance or to be discarded by him.
He hit the button to your floor, and you knew your silence said the same.
"I don't think I can be in a relationship right now," You admitted as the elevator slowly creaked upwards.
You felt like your admission weighed it down, threatened to make the wires snap and send you both crashing down.
Seconds stretching out slower, disappointment seeping in as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You couldn't tell whose it was. Your own or his.
Just that it felt bad - that everything felt bad when you didn't know what you wanted or what would make you happy anymore.
Being away from him sucked and being with him felt like it was splitting your heart into pieces. You didn't expect him to stitch you back together.
"Let me wait for you." It was as soft as he could get. Raspy and hoarse after singing from for so long.
You bit your tongue. Literally.
The only thing holding yourself from falling apart in front of him.
It was all overwhelming. Being this close to him and knowing you shouldn't couldn't act on it. That disaster was one bad decision away.
The elevator dinged, the door sliding open on your floor, and you were already stepping out, staring at the doors for any distraction and pulling out the key card to Sukuna's room by mistake first.
You felt him behind you when you flashed the correct card to your door, thought about what excuse you could come up with. Another nap? Another shower? Anything?
"Just, wait-" he grunted under his breath, following you in before you could stop him, grabbing your arm before you slipped further away.
The door clicked shut behind you, the faint hum of the electronic lock activating, but you stumbled from the unintentional force of his tug, losing your footing.
It might've happened fast, but Sukuna didn't even try to brace himself.
He was busy breaking your fall.
Was it fate? Or just another example of Sukuna forcing it to bend to his will?
Either way, you both ended up tangled together on the floor of a carpeted hotel room, cities away and somehow nose-to-nose for the first time in months. Years, probably, since you'd been in a position that was intimate instead of just sensual.
His hands were on your side, squeezing softly, his dark eyes shifting from your face down to his shirt on your frame then back up to the one place that used to be forbidden.
Your lips.
He didn't say anything. And you couldn't. Stuck in that stare of his, frozen in place with one palm pressed against the floor and the other on his chest.
You didn't know whose moment of weakness it was. If it was you leaning forward or him craning his neck up, but one second you were staring at him and the next his lips were brushing against yours, unsure and unable to stop the momentum once it crashed into you.
Sukuna tasted sweet. It was nothing like your last memory of it - one where he'd been all bitter whiskey and cigarettes and heat. It was softer, almost anxious. Unlike him in every shape and form.
And once it started, you were struck by the thought you were a fucking fool for ever thinking that a future without him in it was ever possible.
Not when he kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him together.
He only pulled away for a breath, regret immediately shining in his eyes like it hit him that it couldn't be taken back.
"I'm sorry-"
You kissed him before he could finish.
Weight shifting, hips pressing down as your trembling fingers clutched dug into the fabric of his hoodie. Lips parting to let his tongue push past your teeth, groaning into your mouth as if he couldn't help himself. His hands slipped underneath your shirt, held onto your waist like he had to memorize the way each finger fit against your skin.
You briefly broke it, just for a second, about to say something else you shouldn't considering you both already crossed the line. He was leaning up, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips when you heard it.
A knock. And then another. Loud. Annoying.
"Hey, you guys in here?"
How the fuck did Satoru already know what room you were staying in?
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previously on... | currently airing: episode nine | episode guide
you've got a text! looks like you're about to spend your summer on everyone's favorite trashy reality dating show searching for love (...or that cash prize at the end) will a certain pretty (annoying) blue-eyed boy catch your attention? or perhaps his dark-haired best friend? it seems this villa has a few bombshells in store too!
pairings: Gojo x Reader, Geto x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Choso x Reader
content: MDNI, angst, fem reader!, she's a little bitchy but we love her anyway, inspired mostly by love island and similar dating shows, emotional hurt, past cheating trauma, lots of kissing, tension, flirting, Sukuna wants us back, guys being whores lmfao
creds: gorgeous art by @baobei-bu and divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
By definition, this was a bad time.
Dressed up in something tight and borderline ridiculous, brighter than a highlighter and dragged onto a poorly-constructed set where you had to stand in a line and read off cheesy cards to kiss the guy you thought they were about.
Some were funny. Some were serious. Most were fucking embarrassing.
"This guy tells everyone he loves the Notebook but he's never seen it," Shoko dryly read off, bored out of her mind and slurring just enough you wondered if she'd been sneaking drinks this early or hadn't slept off last night's.
"Probably Gojo," Yuki snorted under her breath.
It didn't mean it sucked any less to watch Shoko walk over to him and get on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. A faint one, sure, soft and gentle, barely two seconds of connection before she pulled away, but a kiss, nonetheless.
A bell dinged and all the other girls cheered.
Another point correct - even if it didn't mean shit. There was nothing to win here except heartbreak and humiliation being broadcast to half the world.
Well, maybe a hundred grand if you made it all the way to the end of the show.
Almost everyone had gone already. Swapping spit and stories casually, in all sorts of strange combinations you wouldn't have guessed. Manami and Naoya had been expected, but him following it up with an incorrect guess for Shoko had been pretty fucking funny considering the latter had scrunched up her nose and muttered she needed a cigarette afterwards. But others were weirder, halfway between hot and awkward. Utahime had kissed Suguru and he kissed Yuki who had tried to plant one on a reluctant Nanami, who then offered a fairly chaste one to you.
And still, there was a stack of cards left waiting to catch you in this stupid web of drama, to wrap you up and eat you alive.
It was Sukuna's turn next.
He grabbed one off the top, scowling at it while he scanned over the words. You'd been spared the messy kisses so far, but something about the little smirk that twisted up on his lips told you that your luck had run out.
If you ever had any in the first place.
"This girl once had sex in the parking lot of her job," Sukuna wryly announced, and you felt your face flush. Embarrassment boiling in your blood as you figured out where, or rather, who they got that information from. "And got caught."
Nanami scoffed.
Not at you, or well, you hoped it wasn't at you. But you saw the way his eyes rolled and narrowed at Sukuna, the way he held his shoulders tight.
Sukuna wasn't paying attention though.
And you had a feeling he would've kissed you even if the card hasn't been about you.
He walked fast, bridged the distance in a few seconds, but you didn't run away this time.
This was a game. Not a fun one, but if you were going to stay, you had to play it.
He leaned down, his lips hesitating just over yours before he kissed you hard. In another life, another you would've melted, murmured his name and threw your arms around his neck.
But you didn't think that you existed anymore.
You left him. And you'd been hollow ever since. Scooped out and stuck as a shell of what you used to be.
Moving on was hard when you were convinced every other man would be like him.
It was wrong, but you were watching Gojo while Sukuna kept kissing you. A firm hand on your jaw and another pressed against the small of your spine while your stare shifted to see if he was looking.
He wasn't.
Suguru was leaning over to say something to him, and you were pulling away with your hand pressed against Sukuna's chest. The bell signaled he was right, but he still made a show of peeling the tape covering up the name on the bottom to show he was correct too.
"Did you get fired?" Yuki giggled next to you.
"Not for that," You shrugged.
No, you had been fired after someone called into your job and claimed some insane story about your harassing them. Which was bullshit, by the way. Even if your bosses didn't believe you.
You tried to tell yourself good riddance. That something better was on the horizon. But it was hard to stand when the ground beneath your feet kept crumbling away.
"It's your turn," Utahime called out down the line, tapping her foot impatiently.
She was the only one who seemed to want this over as much as you did.
You picked off the next one, trying not to frown as you read it, "This guy flunked out of two colleges."
Well, not Nanami. And Sukuna had never even been to one, so it only left you with three options.
Would Gojo be hurt if you picked him? Or just prefer to be the guy that kissed you?
You might've made your decision then - but then you caught how red Naoya's face was, brows pinched together like he couldn't believe the producers put that, so you figured why not give them what they wanted for once if it meant they'd get off your back a little.
That was how this worked, wasn't it?
If you didn't play their game, they stacked the deck against you. You couldn't win without their permission.
So even though you'd literally rather make out with barbed wire than a guy who you were pretty sure would vote against women having rights, you still walked over and kissed Naoya. It wasn't long, it didn't linger, barely more than a peck, just enough that they'd get whatever screen grab they wanted from it.
You wiped your mouth clean when you walked away.
It wasn't until you got back in line and you felt Manami's stare on you that it hit you what they really wanted was to stir up another fight between you and her.
It felt more icky for some reason, more scummy, you supposed. Because even if you didn't like either of them, they seemed to genuinely like each other.
You zoned out the next few rounds, clapping when you were supposed to, nodding along when Yuki cracked a joke next to you. She was adoring the attention, happy to be kissed or read anything odd, just here for the fun times that had been promised and pushing down any discomfort.
"This guy has a body count over two hundred," she dramatically announced, waving her card up in the air. She pretended to think, biting her lip for the camera before striding over to Suguru, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to kiss him hard. Something in your stomach twisted. A funny feeling at the reminder that none of these guys were really yours.
You probably would've guessed the same.
Unfortunately, you were both wrong.
A loud buzzer rang out, but Yuki just feigned disappointment with a sigh, still grinning underneath it. Her nails made it hard to peel off the tape covering the correct name, but she managed, and you caught the faint surprise on her face before she said it, "The correct answer was Gojo."
Your heart sank.
What did you expect?
A guy like him to be a virgin? That he looked like that and never got laid?
You tried not to react, tried to keep your head held high as you avoided making eye contact with him.
Nanami made a sarcastic comment about hoping he'd been tested, but you couldn't find it in yourself to giggle when everyone else did. If Gojo had been with that many people, how were you supposed to measure up?
You probably wouldn't even make the top twenty.
Just another girl in a long line of them that apparently didn't last.
He picked up the next card, and you could feel his eyes on your skin.
"This girl has had four threesomes - in the past four months," Gojo whistled, and you guessed he was trying to lighten the mood, but it fell flat.
You looked to your left, and you had a feeling everyone was thinking the same thing. Yuki didn't make it any less obvious.
She was grinning, a cute quirk of her mouth and a bounce to her even when she stayed standing in the same place. Waiting to be crowned most likely to get weekly STD tests (well, after Gojo) if it was actually true.
Really, how did anyone find that many people to fuck that they were genuinely attracted to?
You hadn't found one decent guy since you dumped Sukuna.
Gojo hesitated as he walked over, and you didn't miss the way his blue eyes darted to meet your gaze. But you broke it first, looked out towards where the ocean was crashing in.
He could kiss her. And you could convince yourself it didn't bother you.
That they were probably a better match.
You still ended up watching out of the corner of your vision, visceral disappointment settling into your bones and gnawing at your organs at the realization you were right. You really didn't know him.
Their kiss was over before it started, just half a second and he was pulling away. He didn't touch her, but it didn't make it easier to pretend you weren't picturing him touching some other faceless hookup.
"Is that how you kiss other girls?" Yuki teased, poking his shoulder as he turned to go back to his spot.
You hated this.
Your outfit was too tight. The heels were uncomfortable. All the absurd decorations were hurting your eyes. You wanted to leave. To throw in the towel.
But then Sukuna would probably follow you and you'd have to watch the rest of the season from home - watch Gojo end up with Yuki or Shoko while Manami managed to get a happy ending and wonder about all the what-ifs? from your friend's couch.
So you sucked it up.
Shoko went again. You were too lost in your own thoughts to hear what she said, but she kissed Nanami the same way she kissed Gojo. Like she was brushing her teeth, bored and monotonous.
And you knew before Sukuna read his card what he'd do. It was something embarrassing, about a first kiss in front of a family member, but it wasn't yours.
He just didn't care. Wasn't capable of giving a shit about anyone except himself.
"You know it's not me," You murmured when he came back, a hand sneaking around your waist like it was his to hold.
"And?" He huffed, his dark eyes sliding down to your lips. "I'm not fucking kissing anyone else."
Why couldn't he have decided that months ago?
"Asshole," You muttered, but you were too tired for it to have any bite.
"Say it like you mean it," Sukuna challenged, leaning in before you could say it again, interrupting you with a heated kiss. Ignoring the buzzer going off that said his 'guess' was wrong. It was intense, the kind where his hands drifted down where they shouldn't and he tried to suck on your bottom lip.
Well, until you bit his.
Hard enough to draw blood but not enough to get you kicked off the show, Sukuna grunting as he pulled away and brought his fingers to the raw spot where your teeth had just been.
But he didn't tell you to fuck off or call you crazy, no, he just smirked like he'd been waiting for it. Dreaming of this.
You shook your head, swallowing the spit pooling in the back of your mouth when you brushed past him to grab your own card while he reluctantly read off the real name from the bottom of his.
Utahime, apparently.
You glanced down her way, but she was preoccupied whispering to Shoko, fingers brushing against a bracelet on her wrist. You doubted she even heard her own name.
You flipped your card over, almost scoffing when you scanned over what it said. Another cruel joke at your expense. Grinding your molars before exhaling hard and reading it out loud, "This guy cheated on his last girlfriend. Twice."
That final word really wasn't necessary.
The sharp edge of it cut into your palm, dug into your skin with a bite that failed to dull the hurt. The disgust bubbling up in your chest.
You were probably stomping across the set, heels clicking loudly as you walked over to Sukuna. He started to say something, but you just glared at him, making it clear that this whole thing wasn't fucking cute or funny to you. You refused to kiss him on the lips, but he let you tilt his head to the side to press one to his cheek. Just a second, long enough to count but not enough to make the hole that he ripped in your heart any bigger.
But before you could step back, the sound played through the speakers.
A buzzer.
You were wrong.
Still, you wanted to smack the smug look off of Sukuna's face when you glanced up at him, your brows pinching together before you begrudgingly glanced at the other guys.
Naoya?
Although, frankly, you had a hard fucking time believing he somehow managed to get a girlfriend before. Or found two girls willing to sleep with him.
Sighing, you peeled off the sticker on the bottom of the card to reveal a name you hadn't expected. One that stung more than it should.
"Geto."
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You had one rule when you moved in with Ryomen Sukuna: don’t catch feelings.
Which was easy, actually. Super easy. Totally fine.
You only shared a bathroom, sometimes a bed, his hoodies, your fries, a few backhanded compliments, and like… a soul-level tension that felt like a lit cigarette between your teeth.
But feelings? Never.
That’s why you both ended up at Nobara’s party, obviously.
It started normal. Music blaring, drinks poured too strong, your feet already sore from standing too long in boots you had no business wearing. Sukuna was lounging on the arm of a couch, beer bottle in hand, all tattoos and tight jaw, pretending not to watch you dance like you weren’t the only thing he’d been looking at all night.
Then someone suggested spin the bottle.
Of course someone did.
You didn’t think much of it. Just dropped into the circle, laughing, feeling warm and light and stupid.
Sukuna didn’t join.
He leaned back against the wall with a red cup in hand, one brow cocked, looking every bit like a man above it all. Watching. Glowering. Bored.
Until some random guy spun.
The bottle clicked, clacked… and landed on you.
The crowd howled.
The guy smirked, already leaning forward.
That’s when Sukuna moved.
Fast.
Beer slammed onto the counter. Crowd split like the Red Sea. He strode through the circle, sneakers thudding, expression unreadable—but pissed.
“Back the fuck up,” Sukuna said coolly, staring the guy down.
Laughter died. Even the music seemed to quiet.
The guy blinked, confused. “Bro, it’s a party game—”
“She’s not kissing you.” Sukuna smiled without warmth. “Spin again. Or I spin your fuckin’ jaw.”
The guy looked at you, then at Sukuna, clearly re-evaluating all his life choices.
“Dude, what’s your problem?”
“You breathing near her,” Sukuna snapped. “That’s my fuckin’ problem.”
Someone from the back of the crowd muttered, “Damn…”
You stared up at him from the floor, eyes wide. “Sukuna—”
“What?” he barked, not looking at you. “You gonna kiss him? Go ahead. I’ll wait. Right here.”
The guy scrambled to his feet, muttering “not worth it” as he walked off.
Sukuna turned to you finally, jaw tight. “You good?”
You glared. “I was until you pulled a WWE entrance in the middle of a dumb party game.”
He didn’t budge. “If you wanted to kiss some mouth-breathing finance major named Brad or whatever, you could’ve stayed home and swiped right.”
You stood up, brushing yourself off. “It was just a game.”
He leaned in, just enough to make your heart thump. “Then spin the fuckin’ bottle and land on me next time.”
sleeping around with the staff at your shitty waitressing job can't go that wrong...right?
synopsis: feelings and fucking should be kept separate. especially in the work place. so how come it hurts so bad to watch the hot bartender who brought you home last weekend flirt with pretty customers? and how far will you go to get over him - or under someone else?
pairings: Gojo x Reader, Geto x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Nanami x Reader
content: mdni, smut and angst and fluff, restaurant AU, waitress!reader, bartender!Geto, waiter!Gojo, chef!Sukuna, manager!Nanami, also includes food runner!Choso, friends-with-benefits, flirting, teasing, tension, emotional hurt, reader does not have great self esteem, fingering, exhibitionism, jealousy
divider by @/saradika-graphics !!
The only scene Satoru Gojo was interested in was apparently the one between your thighs.
Some romcom was playing in the background, the volume too low for you to really understand anything the actors were saying over your pulse pounding in your ears. Gojo's hand drifted higher up your thigh, above where one of his old t-shirts ended on them. The edge of his nail tracing little shapes on your skin, fingers squeezing the soft flesh while he commented on everything - from the clothes the characters were wearing or how bad a joke was or rambling about something random he was thinking of.
All you could think of was how the fuck had you ended up here?
Replaying the awkward car ride after work, how eagerly he led you up the stairs of his apartment building to his place, dropping his keys three times trying to unlock his front door. Giving you a tour too, one that included him kicking his dirty clothes under his bed and swiping off empty takeout containers off the kitchen counter into his trash can. Asking if you worked tomorrow then offering to drive you to that shift too.
He let you shower, offered his clean clothes for you to change into so you didn't have to stay in your uniform. Swore that he'd just use the spare bathroom to get ready in. The little smile he gave you was still charming, but it was a little nervous. So you accepted, shrugging your shoulders and shutting yourself in his bathroom.
And now here you were an hour later, smelling like his body wash and eating his popcorn while he leaned harder into your shoulder, whispering in your ear that he was glad you said yes.
"Gojo," You started, swallowing hard as his fingers lightly squeezed your thigh.
"Satoru," He corrected you for the tenth time. "Or Toru. Sato, even. You know, whatever-"
"Can you turn the volume up a little?" You cleared your throat to ask.
A faint flicker of disappointment flashed across his face.
"Sure," He nodded anyway, letting go of your thigh to reach over you and grab the remote. Your face flushed at the realization it had been next to you, only more embarrassed when his body ended up more pressed against yours after he accidentally knocked it off the arm of the couch.
"I'm sorry," You started apologizing just for him to climb half-on you trying to get it, his knee digging into your leg painfully before you started trying to squirm out from underneath him.
You didn't know how you managed to make it go from bad to worse.
Just that somehow, between him trying to get over you and you trying to get out from under him, one of you made one wrong move that had you both falling off the couch, his carpeted floor scraping your elbow when he tried to catch you.
He laughed.
Grinning up at you like an idiot as his hands found your waist, squeezing you softly as you stared at him, blinking faster than you were thinking.
"If you wanted to get on top of me, all you had to do was ask," He teased, and you could feel your mouth drop open.
"That's not what I-"
"Mhm," He interrupted with a chuckle, his stare flicking down to where your tits were hanging in his shirt.
The position was compromising. Painfully intimate for someone who was supposed to be a coworker.
And when you were this close, your thighs straddling his waist and his fingers digging into your sides, his bright eyes gleaming just for you, it was more than a teensy but tempting to give in.
His stare flickered down to your lips, lingered there. Taking in every little twitch and pull while you tried to decide how bad it'd be to bury your feelings for a little bit and take a bite out of him.
Your fingers were trembling when your palm rested against his cheek, working up the courage to lean down and press your lips to his.
He met you halfway, craning his neck up and capturing your mouth in the kind of kiss you couldn't take back. He tasted like popcorn still. But his lips were soft, licking the faint traces of butter off of your own. One of his hands slipped under your shirt, skimming over the bare skin to pull you down, press your chest against his as his tongue slipped past your lips.
You could almost believe he had been waiting for this. For you.
But guys like him probably kissed girls like you all the time.
"God," He groaned as your hips shifted down, and you suddenly realized how hard he was underneath you, something bigger than you expected throbbing against your clothed clit through your panties. "Suguru's a fucking moron."
His other hand slipped between your bodies, reaching inside his boxers to readjust his cock, and you felt the heat rush back to your face.
"Um, Satoru," You started, the name still uncomfortable on your tongue.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" He purred, taking his hand out of his pants just to press it against your underwear instead. Holding his arm at an awkward angle just to be able to start rubbing rough circles against your clit through the thin fabric, grinning at the little gasp he tore from your throat.
"This, I mean, us," You awkwardly stammered, struggling to get the words out without whining, thighs already trembling as he pressed harder, swirled his fingers faster. "It's not going to, um, change anything a-at work, right?"
"We're not doing anything wrong," He reassured you, his mouth on your throat, his breath on your skin.
You tried to tell yourself the same thing.
Let go of your insecurities and anxieties and convince yourself his lust was longing.
It would've been easier to believe if his phone didn't start ringing and he didn't flip you over to answer it. It was smooth, hands shifting and in one fluid motion, he was laying you flat on your back on his carpet, the shirt hiked up to your belly button and panties fully exposed.
He paused, one corner of his mouth twitching up before he picked up his phone.
"Hey," Gojo casually greeted, keeping his phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could lift your hips up and shuffle your panties down your thighs while you laid there and gawked at him.
He couldn't be serious.
But unfortunately, Gojo was.
Holding your panties like a trophy before sliding them in his pocket, hoisting one of your legs up his other shoulder, making eye contact with your entrance like it was the prettiest picture he'd ever seen.
It took you .02 seconds to realize just far out of your fucking atmosphere someone like Satoru Gojo was.
"Uh-huh, yeah, Yuki, look-" She apparently cut him off judging by his eye roll. By then, he was shoving two fingers deep in your cunt, and you had to cover your mouth not to moan.
Biting your palm to muffle the sounds of him stretching you out and spreading you open, the easy smirk on his face only making it ten times harder. The embarrassment that Yuki might hear you was the only thing holding you together.
"I don't want your shift," He groaned into the speaker, and you could hear the faint sound of her annoyed voice on the other end.
He buried his fingers deeper, down to his fucking knuckles just to make you squirm. Forcing them in deeper so he could rub your clit with his thumb, tracing messy patterns like he wasn't already making a wreck of you on his floor.
"That sounds like a Nanami problem," He clicked his tongue, looking down at you with that infuriatingly charming smile, teasing you closer to your climax with each thrust of his fingers.
He found your cervix, prodding at it with curious fingertips, pushing in just to hear your whimper. A desperate, shattered sound that slipped past your lips and against your palm.
Too loud.
But that only encouraged him to continue rearranging your guts with just a couple fingers while he casually chatted with Yuki.
"Whatever, I'm, ah," He paused, eyes sliding over your splayed out body and where his hand was stuck between your spread legs. "Watching a movie."
You came before he even finished the call.
Thighs trembling and nose scrunched, biting back another broken moan while his thumb traced sloppy circles over your sensitive bud.
"Making a mess for me, cutie," He chuckled, tossing his phone back on the couch, refusing to let up even when your skin was damp and you were sweating, brows knitted together as you tried to play the fact you finished on his floor cool.
This was probably nothing for him. An average Tuesday. How many other girls had he fucked her? Fingered stupid?
He stared at you, and it almost looked like admiration from this angle.
"Can't talk?" He questioned with another short laugh. You shook your head, shakily exhaling.
"What was that about?" You mumbled, sighing as you looked up towards his phone.
Yuki was pretty low on the list for Gojo's fan club. You could really only imagine her calling if she really needed something.
But Gojo also wasn't the person to ask if you wanted a shift covered. Haibara, maybe. Or even Utahime.
"You're really asking me about work?" He cocked an eyebrow up, and you shrugged. Tiled your head the other way towards the movie still playing on his oversized screen. It was some big, dramatic scene. The one where the guy kissed the girl and confessed his grand, undying love.
You wondered if the characters were real, would they get a happy ending here? Or would they end up separated or divorced in ten years?
"Did she, um, hear?" You awkwardly asked, the first tendrils of anxiety slithering in as you can down from your high.
"Don't worry about her, okay?"
You couldn't not worry. But what was the worst that could happen? Yuki would tell Shoko and Utahime? It wasn't the end of the world.
So when he grazed his thumb over your lip, turned your pout into a small smile, you nodded, "Okay."
"You wanna stay the night?"
Touch her and I will literally break your fingers next time I see you.
Short. Simple. To the point.
Suguru stared at the message, double checked for typos, and hit send.
It took approximately thirty-eight seconds for it to be marked as seen. But there was no bubble that popped up. No typing.
His foot was tapping impatiently, trying to picture you sitting in the passenger seat of Satoru's fancy little two-seater, small and fast and probably the cost of his yearly salary. Or double it.
But Satoru wasn't the one who paid for it.
No, his family covered everything. From his car to his apartment to the expensive clothes hanging in his closet. He was only waiting tables because he couldn't stand Suguru working somewhere without him.
Suguru wasn't bitter.
That wasn't exactly it.
It was just, Satoru didn't get that he actually needed the money he made each shift. That every smile he faked and laugh he forced past his lips was so he didn't starve. He didn't plan on being a fucking bartender forever.
He just needed the cash to get him through for now.
Suguru glanced down at the time on his phone.
You should've gotten home four fucking hours ago. Usually, you texted him every time you made it back safe. Sent him a cute little message or maybe a photo of you in your bed after a shower.
He never said it, but he saved them.
Stared at them and thought about what he'd do if he was there.
You weren't his girlfriend. But you were close enough.
It didn't mean you weren't together. He was just waiting for the right time. When he had more to give you than just a few minutes to fuck and hardly enough cash to cover his bills.
Sure, he had to lie to Satoru. Tell him you had a boyfriend and weren't interested in any kind of work relationship. But if he didn't, then his best friend would be a little too interested in what belonged to him.
Finally, a few bubbles popped up just to almost immediately disappear. Suguru was about to hit the call button, about to threaten him with something more serious than bodily harm. Like using the spare key to break into his place and replace his shampoo with Nair or tell Nanami that it was really Satoru who took his favorite tie off his desk and used it to clean tables when he was too lazy to look for extra rags.
But then he sent a photo.
You, curled up in Satoru's sheets, a t-shirt that wasn't yours wrinkled and loose on your frame as you snoozed. The angle was awkward, and Suguru realized it was because you were sleeping on the arm Satoru was taking the photo with, his pale muscled bicep sticking out underneath your smushed cheek.
Smau: in which you're their dealer and they all kinda have a thing for you?
Warnings: some sexual talk, drug use?, cursing, not proofread
Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiromi
𖦏 /brief: sukuna x female reader. modern au. all crack. this is a grown ass man btw. also i forgot how to write a drabble so this may be bad but it's okay you'll still read it.
there are times in a woman’s life when she wishes to sit across from her lover at a cozy, dimly-lit table, bathed in amber light and the illusion of peace. this was not one of those times. this was sukuna.
he was seated like a beast in a gilded cage, one elbow on the table, rings clicking against glass as he lazily scrolled through the cocktail menu he had already memorized for the fourth time this evening.
“what is taking them so long?” he muttered, eyes slanted, voice low and ominous like he was about to personally smite the sous-chef. “it is a burger, not a beast to be felled.” you, unbothered, were busy popping peanuts into your mouth with the sort of serenity that comes from dating someone who has definitely torn a man’s spine out before and still thinks a paper umbrella in a drink is the height of luxury.
and then — deliverance. a waiter emerged from the back like an angel bearing sacraments. sukuna’s back straightened, his pupils dilated. he made a small sound in his throat, which could be loosely translated to finally.
the tray landed.
your neat whiskey — no frills, one perfect cube of ice — was placed squarely in front of him.
his beloved cocktail — sweet, spicy, a cinnamon stick poking out obscenely from the rim like it had something to prove — was plopped down on your end.
he stared at the drink. stared at you. stared at the drink again.
“...i fear we have entered the third act of a shakespearean tragedy,” he said solemnly, lips thinning. “i am a god of calamity, and yet fate dares mock me.”
you reached for the whiskey. he reached for the cocktail. both of you paused. “you know, you could drink the whiskey,” you offered sweetly, already knowing the answer.
he sniffed, affronted. “i did not survive millennia of carnage to poison my sacred temple with tree bark juice and regret.”
he took his drink from your side, practically purring as he plucked the tiny umbrella out and inspected it with reverence. “this,” he said, raising the drink in salute, “is art. this is joy. yours tastes like something a war criminal would drink alone in a basement.”
you sipped the whiskey in question. “perfect, then. matches your look.”
“hah. i am a creature of refined palette and greater taste,” he said, sipping his cocktail with visible bliss and a lemon garnish tickling his lip. “only the worthy may enjoy the juxtaposition of sweet mango syrup and chili flakes.”
“you’re drinking a spicy mojito with glitter in it, sukuna.”
“it is called the cursed king, thank you very much. how dare you slander it.”
he took another sip, the umbrella twirling side by side. his tail — if metaphorical — wagged. all was, briefly, well.
the waiter returned sheepishly. “sorry, we mixed up the drinks. should i switch them?”
sukuna looked him dead in the eye. “touch it and perish.”
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