What about rockstar ex who still sings about you 15-20 years later
He still writes songs about you, some unreleased, sitting in the back of his vault files, and some raw and out in the open. Only you don’t know because you turn off the radio every time his name comes up.
It’s unfortunate for you because your kid loves his band. Well into his teen years, your son has picked up a knack for listening to old rock bands. It’s only when you’re home early from work is when you catch your son in the living room for the first time in a while. Usually he’d be rotting away in his room as he practiced songs on his guitar, his voice and cadence becoming eerily similar to someone you once bared your soul to.
You’re about to walk in and smother him in a hug he’d definitely wiggle out of when you realize that the face on the tv is none other than your ex.
The very man who left you to become a world famous star.
The memories come rushing back when you see his face again, now extremely aged, streaks of grey too large to go unnoticed and specks of silver in his beard. His eyes look dull and exhausted (probably because he’s been constantly traveling between countries).
Your son notices you and throws a wave your way. “Can I go see him perform next month?”
It takes you a while to process his words. “Why?”
“Cause he’s my favorite singer?” your son answers sarcastically. “Seriously, he’s all I’ve been listening to.”
You gulp before pouring yourself a glass of water. “I’ll think about it. How have you been doing in school?”
Your son only groans and turns his attention back to the television, turning up the volume. The interviewer asks the singer who his songs are about, and his answer nearly makes you drop your glass.
“An old flame I regret losing. I had to choose between her and my music.” He pauses, staring into the distance like he’d been caught in a trance. “Almost everything I’ve written so far has been about her.”
You often find yourself complaining to your pen pal about the annoying IT tech at your soul-sucking corporate job. If only you knew that they shared the same identity beyond the screen.
or: the “You’ve Got Mail” au
tags & cw: fem/afab! reader, enemies to lovers, corporate workplace au, heavy rom com energy, contemporary romance, lots of banter, inspired by the movie, insecurity, reader is kind of a loser, explicit sexual content, size difference, size kink
You often find yourself complaining to your pen pal about the annoying IT tech at your soul-sucking corporate job. If only you knew that they shared the same identity beyond the screen.
or: the “You’ve Got Mail” au
MASTERLIST
chapter 5 < chapter 6 > chapter 7
A toboggan down a steep hill–that’s precisely how you’d describe a conversation with Shoko Ieri. It's fun at first, but then the speed picks up and you feel like you’re going to die by the end of it.
The entire accounts department was in the break room on this fateful day, discussing the employee retreat on the weekend. Everyone had been involved in their own conversations until Shoko started talking about an old friend of hers. You’re confused when she randomly brings him up, but you listen anyway, not understanding why she keeps listing his achievements like they’re credit points.
“And, he’s almost done paying off his first home. It’s outside the city, but it is huge. I think I might have a picture,” she says as she fishes her phone out of her pocket. Suguru, Kento, and Choso have gathered around you two by now, eager to look at Shoko’s friend’s house.
“Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have bought that condo. City prices are outrageous,” Kento complained with an envious glint when he caught sight of the gorgeous three-bed and two-bath suburban home. Choso nodded woefully as Shoko swiped to show the backyard.
You look at Suguru in confusion, almost as if asking why Shoko is showing her friend off like he’s in a dog show, but he ignores you.
“Shoko, this Atsuya guy sounds great, but I don’t understand why you’re talking about him,” you say as you stir your coffee.
The entire department goes quiet, and you get the feeling that they know something you don’t.
“Well, after much consideration of your current relationship status, and sour mood, I–” Suguru slaps Shoko’s shoulder. “I mean, we decided that you should go out with him. He’s already seen your pictures, and he thinks you’re super cute. All we need is your consent.”
A moment of silence goes by. Why your coworkers would want to set you up with someone after you’ve just gotten out of a long-term relationship is beyond you. You thought life was annoying enough with having Sukuna breathe down your neck during every waking (and also sleeping) second, but now your coworkers have started to implement their own agenda, too.
You sigh, putting your head in your hands. As if matters couldn’t get worse, Sukuna walks in with his usual attractive smirk, and the top button of his shirt is undone.
“It’s weird seeing you all so quiet. What’s up?” he asks as he pours himself a cup of coffee in his tumbler.
Shoko rushes out of her seat, almost sliding to where Sukuna is, to shove her phone up his face. “I’m trying to set her up with my friend. Isn’t he cute? I don’t know why she’s acting like it’s the end of the world.”
You look up to see that Sukuna already has his gaze set on you, pensively gnawing on his lip, tumbler frozen in hand. Your eyelashes flutter as you look away, staring at your fingernails, assessing their length, doing anything to avoid the spotlight he always seems to shine on you. It’s not something you want to accept, but you notice that whenever Sukuna looks at you, you feel like you’re the only person in the room with him.
You wish that he would object to Shoko’s ridiculous suggestion; balk at the idea of you dating, considering your personality, laugh and say that you’re married to your work, but he only walks towards the exit. “I think it might be good for you to get out more,” he says as he moves in the direction of his office.
Everyone lets out a sigh of relief after he leaves. “See? Even Sukuna agrees with us,” Suguru says as he drags a chair next to you. You eye its legs, wishing you had enough strength to kick it hard enough so that it could topple back.
“Exactly, it’ll be fun,” Choso adds, prompting you to glare at him.
“One date sounds logical. You can always call it quits if you don’t like him.” Kento wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t agreed to it, but Shoko had already talked about you to Atsuya, so it would be rude to reject him without going on at least one date.
Besides, what’s the harm in meeting someone new? All it will do is create a strange void in your heart. You just don’t know who had filled it in the first place.
Fate has its way of humbling you. Oftentimes, you feel like a pinball, hitting every wall till the game swallows you up to start the cycle again. The office air feels cursed because of it.
It’s an hour before everyone is supposed to clock out, and Sukuna has already gone back to his old ways, only this time, there’s an added heat of hostility from him. He’d actively ignore you when you’d both be in a group conversation, and he’d turn away when you’d wave at him.
You’re not a dog with a bone, and you certainly do not run to whoever presents you with a sliver of healthy attention, but it angers you to want his approval so badly.
Even now, as you stare at his office door across the floor, you can’t help but wish he would come out with his handsome smile and charming stalk towards you. Instead, you only see Choso come out of it with his laptop in hand. When he catches you staring, he sends a sheepish smile your way.
There’s only one person who can talk to you about this frustration without judging you. But when you enter the name of the website and log in to your account, you see a letter already awaiting you.
–
Dear Orchid27
I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I suck at handling rejection. Call me spoiled, but I can’t deal with not getting what I want. My grandpa says it’s cause I was a demon child, my brother says it’s cause I’m a dumbass who can’t deal with any kind of emotions, and my therapist says it’s because of some deep-rooted trauma.
But what do you think? Why am I this way? I feel defeated even when there’s a hint of possibility that I won’t get picked. I refuse to be someone’s second choice. It’s like gym class: you get picked last if you’re not good at anything.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to put myself out there all the time to be seen.
Hope your day’s been going better than mine,
Ceos4unions
–
And here you had the opposite problem. You tried your best to stay in your little bubble, but you could never seem to escape the sights of people. If you weren’t being bothered by Naoya Zenin, you were being bothered by your coworkers.
Although it wouldn’t seem so bad if Sukuna were the one disturbing you, you were only hoping that he’d be the one driving you home today, even after how weird he’d been towards you.
You start typing out your response to ceos4unions.
—
Dear Ceos4unions
Something tells me this is deeper than I think. I’m not gonna pry because ultimately, it’s none of my business.
BUT, let’s just say it’s about a hypothetical girl who might not know about your feelings. Have you tried |
—
“Ah, fuck,” you mumble under your breath. The office air really was cursed—for the sake of finishing your work faster, your personal computer had bailed on you, an empty black screen displaying your disappointed reflection.
You check your phone, and it's fifteen minutes till everyone clocks out. Then your eyes flit to Sukuna’s office door, which had its blinds closed, meaning that he was probably busy with work. Either way, you didn’t care if he had time for you or not. Giving him a last-minute project was the only way you’d be able to get some form of revenge.
He looks caught off guard when you enter his office without knocking on the door. One would think that he’d at least give you a nod of acknowledgment when you come in, but he only continues to pack his bag.
“Hey, since you’re still making up to me, can you check why my laptop’s been acting weird. It’s funny how I thought my work laptop would give out first, but no, I just had to be betrayed by my own.” You hoped that the little joke you’d thrown in at the end would entice him to give you at least a sliver of a smile, but his face is as hardened as it was since the morning.
“Sure, just leave it on my desk. I’ll try to give it to you tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
You nod, trying to make at least some eye contact, but he’s only present in his own mind, and not the suffocating atmosphere of his little space. The walls feel like they’re closing in on you, so you make one last attempt for a frenemy-like back-and-forth you two usually seemed to have.
“Look, about what you see on my computer, just don’t talk to me about it. I know it’s lame as fuck,” you say with a silly chuckle at the end. Once again, all you receive is a hum.
However, when you’re about to leave, he says something that angers you rather than saddens you.
“Hey, this is the first and last time I’m gonna take a look at your personal device. It’s not really my job to help out with that stuff.”
And the worst part is that he isn’t even looking at you while saying it. Thirty seconds of heavy silence pass by like the initial sting of a festering third-degree burn.
You glare at him before sealing things once and for all. “No need to drive me home. I’ll be taking the train today.” Done and dusted.
–
The door slams shut, and Sukuna winces because of it. Had Jin been here, he’d be getting a very sarcastic slap on the back and a barrage of insults. ‘Is this how you fight for your woman?’
He opens up the blinds of his office door and sees you all alone waiting for the elevator. If the events of today hadn’t happened, he’d be there, waiting with you as he joked about something Choso did or Nanami said. He’d drown in every giggle or chuckle you’d make, brand the sight of you rolling your eyes while looking away onto his brain.
But here he was, woefully packing his things and straightening his desk as your laptop sits in the center of it like an anvil that threatens to push through the wood. As long as the laptop was with him, he’d have an excuse to talk to you. Maybe it was time to erase those feelings, pack them up in a box, and seal them with duct tape. Set it on fire if he needed to.
Fixing your computer is the least he can do before he rids himself of his heart. The gym would be seeing him more often now.
With a sigh, he sits down, getting to work. Your password is easy to guess: your last name and a sequence of consecutive numbers. The wallpaper is a stock image of a red orchid. He chuckles. You’re a simple person after all.
His otherwise relaxed state is challenged when the computer finally unlocks. It takes a few seconds for him to register what he is seeing, running his eyes over the words again and analyzing the website, and then it hits him like a truck going over the speed limit.
You’re orchid27.
You’re his pen pal. You know all his intimate secrets, his real thoughts, his true opinions. And most of all, you know about his crush. Except that you don’t know who it’s on.
Or do you? Maybe you knew all this time and were just trying to test him, trying to see how long he’d take to realize that the very person he’d been spilling his mind to was sitting outside his office, drafting a new email for him at the same time.
Oh, there’s no way he was going to let go of you now.
Sukuna scrambles out of his chair, toppling it over as he nearly tears his door off in a hurry to talk to you. He races across the office, trying to get to the elevator in time, but it’s too late.
You’ve already gotten in, and the steel doors are beginning to shut. His leather shoes squeak against the glossed tile floors as he runs to you, hoping that he can make it in time. You’re the only one in the elevator, it seems, eyes glued to your phone. Your eyes widen when you hear him yell to stop the elevator, but the doors close just when he reaches. Still, ever the hopeful, he pressed the buttons vigorously, hoping that the next one would open up, but to his misfortune, it was five, and the entire building seemed to be emptying at the same time for some forsaken reason.
Sukuna groans, patting himself down to look for his phone, but it is in his work bag. “This shit couldn’t get fucking worse.” He pulls himself together and runs back to his office like a madman.
Sukuna Ryomen had never been this desperate for anything in his entire life. As prideful as he may be, he was ready to swallow it and race the train you’d be taking home just to tell you that you were the one he was irrevocably in love with. This is not the kind of conversation someone has via text. He dials your number, hoping that you pick up, but his call gets declined instead. Not even to voicemail.
“This is just fucking great,” he mutters under his breath. He packs your laptop in his bag and grabs his car keys. He’d just have to tell you at the employee retreat tomorrow.
–
Sukuna had woken up in the morning like a soldier–war on his mind. He prepared himself to confess to you like he were getting ready for battle. Only, instead of grenades and bullets, he was packing mosquito repellent spray and sunscreen into his duffel bag. And instead of a radio message from his comrade, he gets a text from Choso that reads “LET'S GET FUCKED UP TONITE” along with a picture of a bag full of beers.
The last part of his preparation just demotivates him.
His nephew, Yuuji, seemed more sound of mind than his best friend, which really had Sukuna second-guessing most of the company he kept around him.
The email regarding the company trip states that all the employees are to meet at a bus station not too far out of the city at six in the morning, so they can make it to the campsite in time and set up the place before noon.
Everyone looks sleepy, all drowsy-eyed and messy-haired (except for Nanami. Sukuna thinks that the man sleeps with his suit and hair gelled.)
Red eyes search for you in the crowd of corporate slaves, and there you are, standing in the middle of all the chatter, leaning against the bus, wearing tiny cargo shorts and a black tank top, eyes closed with your headphones on.
He’s about to walk up to you until someone stops him.
“Hey, some of the guys from marketing and I are gonna camp together. You wanna join our group?” Choso asks with a knowing smile.
But Sukuna’s eyes are glued to you, who’s now entering the bus with Suguru and Shoko following behind. You still seem distanced, eyes sort of glazed over. Sukuna feels terrible for how he treated you the day before. There was finally some level of progress between you two, but his inability to deal with his emotions brought him back to square 1.
Sukuna ignores Choso and heads to board the same bus as you, hoping to score a seat next to you for the entirety of the three-hour road trip. Your eyes meet when he enters the bus, and you quickly look away, leaning against the window. You pull the first person who happens to walk by you and pull them down to sit next to you. Nanami seems confused when it happens, but doesn’t question it when you look at him with the kind of desperation that makes Sukuna feel guilty. You were definitely going to pull all the stops when it came to ignoring him this entire trip.
It was going to be an interesting weekend.
–
The drive is excruciatingly long. Living in a heavily metropolitan area meant basically living away from any kind of nature. There were days when you’d yearn to see hills instead of the endless expanse of buildings and skyscrapers. Nanami has fallen asleep, absentmindedly resting his head on your shoulder. Normally, you’d ignore it out of the goodwill of your heart, but Sukuna’s cattiness has you on the edge. You yank yourself away from Nanami, who’s woken up with a flinch.
“My shoulder hurts,” you complain, grumbling under your breath as you take your headphones off.
“I know who I’m not gonna be sharing a tent with,” Nanami says out loud, more to you than to himself.
“Please, we both know I wasn’t your first choice anyway.”
You’re not really sure who you’d be tenting with anyway. Shoko had obviously picked Suguru, Nanami had Haibara in mind, and Choso was going to stay with the marketing department for most of the retreat.
That leaves you all alone. Your pen pal was right: it really is like gym class all over again. You look around the bus to look for anyone who might be sitting by themselves, and all you see is Sukuna, who makes eye contact with you when you take a second too long to look away.
You quickly sit down, much to Nanami’s annoyance. “Quit fidgeting, I’m trying to sleep here,” he complained.
You roll your eyes, ignoring his grumpiness and focusing on the road outside again.
The employees of Zenin Group spill out of the buses when their journey ends. It’s your standard national park with sightseeing zones, wildlife spotting areas, and camping grounds. The CEO may have changed, but the budget for employee enrichment activities stays the same.
You wait for everyone to get off the bus so you can blend in with the crowd and avoid Sukuna, but it turns out that he had similar plans. Right on your tail, he stands behind you as you get off.
“We need to talk,” he says right behind your neck.
You sigh deeply. “What’s so important that you can’t just send me an email during work hours?”
“Hey, stop, getting so defensive. All I wanna do is talk!” The few people surrounding you turn in your direction, making you curse under your breath. There Sukuna went again, pulling unwanted attention towards him and you.
Shoko calls your name, and you jog to her to get away from Sukuna as fast as you can. You’d deal with the tent situation later. Maybe a hike would solve your problems.
–
It’s crazy how you let Sukuna control so much of how you feel. Even before the two of you had gotten somewhat friendly with one another, you always found yourself wanting to look good in front of him. Initially, you thought it was your pride, never wanting you to seem down in front of the enemy.
But no, this was some fucked up sort of attraction. It’s like, you’ve seen the worst of him, yet you accept him anyway.
Even now, as you watch him from across the camp, where he is setting up the grilling station, you can’t help but want to tidy your hair and smooth down your clothes. His attention makes you feel…pretty.
Sukuna tries to hold your gaze any time he can: as he’s setting up the tents, distributing skewers (giving you two while he’s at it), or setting up the fire; he just wants a reason to be in your radius.
On one hand, you can’t help but be flattered, but on the other, you're enraged at his hot and cold behavior. Doing anything related to work is bad enough, but wasting your Friday with coworkers who meddle way too much in your life was starting to take a toll on you. The tranquility of the forest is hard to enjoy when there’s someone always yelling about having fewer blankets or more generic pop music.
Night falls quickly. Time passes by fast when you’re doing physical labor in the summer heat. The bonfire has long been extinguished, and one can only hear very faint noises of Choso and his friends drinking in the distance.
Shoko and Suguru had kindly offered to stay with them, and you had reluctantly accepted it. You would be in the tent sleeping soundly, but it was a little crowded with just two people there. You couldn’t imagine squeezing between Shoko and Suguru like that. Giving them the excuse of doing some light reading before bed, you decide to stay outside instead.
Besides, there were folded-out reclining chairs outside, and you still had your sleeping bag, so it wasn’t like there was no space for you at all. But sleep doesn’t come easily. You’re exhausted beyond your mind, but you’re not tired to the point where you’d fall asleep once your eyes closed.
You had two options: you could either tire yourself out by partying with Choso, or you could take a hike.
The answer is easy. No one in their right mind wants to drink late at night with a bunch of men in their late twenties and thirties.
Without a word to anyone, you grab a flashlight and your phone.
The forest isn’t that hard to navigate. There are emergency lights and signs around, so you don’t have much to be afraid of. It's just the occasional rustle or breeze that makes you shiver, but that’s about it. You find a small path–a bridge leading up to what seems like a waterfall. You hoped that its sounds would drown out Choso’s party’s noise.
It starts getting harder to see as you get closer to the waterfall; fewer emergency lights are switched on around the area, but you power through anyway. Everyone was going to leave by tomorrow afternoon, and it was not going to be fun to enjoy nature with so many people at the same time.
You missed your bed and your tiny apartment.
The waterfall sounds gorgeous. It’s a shame you just can’t see it that well at night.
You sit near the bank, hugging your knees to your chest. This was the best form of meditation–getting away from everyone and everything. Other than the day you had nearly lost your job, this was the most peace you had felt in a long time.
It always felt like you were running from something, a perpetual prey. But over here, you could simply slow down and revel in nothing.
“Hey.”
You spoke too soon. When you turn around, you see a familiar silhouette looking back at you. Sukuna’s broad shoulders and spikey hair are hard to miss. You don’t have it in you to ignore him anymore, so you just let him speak.
“Let’s get this over with,” you say as he sits next to you, shoulder touching yours. Something in you wanted to push him away, but you didn’t. Suddenly, you felt bad for how you treated Nanami, but at least now you knew the very odd fact that you would only ever let Sukuna act so naturally touchy with you.
“Do you ever feel like something you really want is so out of reach, so far away that you can barely see it?”
“I don’t have time for your stupid metaphors. I’m exhausted.”
“I know, I know, but just give me a minute here–or better yet, give me thirty seconds.”
You roll your eyes, playing with the flower you’d just plucked from the soil. He sounds an awful lot like someone you know.
“As I was saying about wanting something far away–what if it was in front of you the entire time?”
“What are you, in some kind of Christmas movie?” you joke before chuckling, pulling a petal out of what you assume is a violet.
“I have a confession,” he whispers. Blood roars in your ears. Nothing he’s saying makes any sense, but his words have a significant amount of weight to them, like he’s been waiting a long time to speak his mind. He grabs your chin, turning you to face him, and you almost gasp when your eyes meet his. Even in the dimness of the night, you can see how his eyes glimmer when they’re set on you, how his face softens when you’re close, how his shoulders drop down in your vicinity.
“I’m ceos4unions. I’m your pen pal, and you’re the girl I’ve been writing about in my emails.”
Soldier nanami and reader who is an aristocrat’s daughter (Drabble)
tag(s): nsfw, not proofread
“Your beard’s gotten thicker.” Your fingers caress against Kento’s jaw. Your lover licks his lips before opening one eye, sleep too deeply embedded into him that the only thing keeping him awake is the warm embrace of your naked body.
“Happens when you’re out at sea for too long.”
“Your voice has become rougher as well. It is those foreign cigars you are smoking, is it not? My older brother smokes them. They smell too strong for my liking.” Your tone is accusatory, but it doesn’t do anything to strike fear or discipline in Kento’s heart. He wants to admit that he’s far too old to deal with your admonition over his health, but it is really because he enjoys watching your face contort in concern over him.
“Don’t gamble, don’t smoke, don’t drink. Lord, woman, is there anything you will let me do?” Kento pinches your waist and you gasp, wiggling in his hold before straddling him and resting your chin against his sternum. His cock stirs, hardening against your thigh, ready for another hour of making up for lost time.
“I wil let you marry me,” you cheekily reply. “I know of a small chapel a little further out from the town. No one will know if we elope at night.”
Your answer makes Nanami click his tongue. Of course he’d marry you. The second syllable of the sentence wouldn’t even need to be said and he’d have his grandmother’s ring on your finger but it’s not easy. Not for a man of his financial standing.
There are nights where Kento dreams of you in a white dress, standing across the room, a thin veil over your face. Those dreams gave him the strength to keep fighting through needless battles and earn pointless rewards. His sweet princess bride. He wants to whisk you away on his horse so desperately, but there’s still a long while till he can give you the life you need. The kind you deserve after bathing in riches since the day you were born. Silver spoon in your mouth and diamonds hanging off your ears.
“If we are to marry then we will do it properly. Under the eyes of God, your family and mine,” Kento says as he stamps a large hand on the back of your neck. Warmth spreads all over your body when he pulls you in for a wet kiss, tongue dragging against yours. “Give me a little more time, my dearest. I want to make a name for myself. Deem myself worthy enough to ask your father for your hand.”
You whine against his mouth, trying to push him away for a rebuttal but his hand doesn’t not budge. Instead, his fingers slide down your waist and dip themselves in the wetness between your thighs.
“We have done everything a married couple does and yet you stray further away from the idea of matrimony every day. I shall think that you only want me for pleasure,” you manage to complain.
Kento growls, rolling you over onto your back and pressing his naked chest against yours as he pushes you against his bed. “In my mind you are already my wife. Yes, it is a shame that we cannot flaunt our love in front of the world, but know this—“ he rests his sweaty forehead against yours.
“There is no woman in the world more perfect for me than you. This cock—“
He parts your legs and slides into you easily, like your cunt was shaped to fit him. You’re reminded of his impressive girth as your viscid walls stretch to accommodate him. You wiggle under him, the initial burn still isn’t easy to get used to, but his kisses soothe the temporary ache.
“This cock only leaks for you. There is only one woman I imagine spending the rest of my life with and it is you.” He slips his finger down again and gently strokes the pearl of your sex.
“I have spent many nights wondering what I am doing at the battlefield, but whenever I look at the handkerchief you gave me, I am reminded that it is you I must go home to.”
You cry out his name, arching your back. Kento’s lips latch onto your breasts, leaving kisses all over them. “So, please, my love, give me a little more time.”
You often find yourself complaining to your pen pal about the annoying IT tech at your soul-sucking corporate job. If only you knew that they shared the same identity beyond the screen.
or: the “You’ve Got Mail” au
MASTERLIST
chapter 4 < chapter 5 > chapter 6
Don’t think, just do it.
Sukuna storms into the office with a deep breath. “What the fuck is going on? I helped you for a reason!” he yelled as he walked to the desk in the middle of the room.
Toji Fushiguro, the new CEO of Zenin Group, sighs as he looks away from his assistant. “Give us a minute.”
“I didn’t give that tip off for no reason. I thought we agreed that nothing would happen to her or her job,” Sukuna went on.
Toji, Sukuna’s old friend, was an heir to the Zenin fortune until he had gone ahead and done the unthinkable–married outside the circle of eligible elite socialites (and then divorcing her later, but that’s a story for another time).
Zenin Group belonged to Toji as much as it did to his cousin, Naoya, so it was only right that he took charge and went against all the people who were taking advantage of being at the top by reporting them. Via Sukuna’s help, of course. The man had been keeping tabs on the Zenin family for his benefit, but now it seemed futile.
“Can you please fucking chill out? Take a seat first.” Toji pointed at the leather chair across his desk, but Sukuna’s pride prevented him from doing so.
Toji sighed, knowing that he was facing the equivalents of an impenetrable fortress and an unstoppable object: Sukuna’s resolve, and his affection for you.
The man had gone soft and hadn’t even realized it, already charging like a bull into the office of one of the most powerful men in the country.
“It’s all a formality, don’t worry. I don’t even think it’s possible to replace so many people so quickly. They’ll all be fine. Just give it a day or two for the investigation to finish up.”
It’s hard enough not to text you as soon as he clocks out. The day still felt long even when he had to share almost all of the corrupt Zenins’ email logs, and whatnot; the team of corporate lawyers rushing all around the main headquarters of Zenin Group had kept him busy from nine to five to the dot. But even then, his mind drifted to you and your long face as you walked out of the office, your large cup of coffee abandoned on your work desk. If Sukuna had the stomach for it, he would’ve downed it in one go, placing his lips right where yours were.
As far-fetched as an expectation it is, he can’t help but yearn for a text from you when he unlocks his phone. Too bad you don’t think of him as much as Suguru, who texts him to go out for drinks at a members-only club that Sukuna was a part of. He nearly threw his phone across the room because of it.
Tonight, instead of going out and drinking his tension away with his coworkers, Sukuna opts for a nightcap with his laptop as he decides to reply to orchid27.
He could type out the website with his eyes shut. After all, a friend had been waiting for him behind the loading screen. The familiar jingle is like a stimulus to his senses: ‘You’ve got mail!’
A forgotten smile grows on his face when he sees a glowing green dot next to his pen pal’s name on the website. For the first time in a while, orchid27 was online for a live chat. Sukuna takes a sip of his drink and cracks his knuckles before typing up a catchy greeting.
----
Surprisingly, you weren’t mad when you had to go home for the day. You almost felt guilty for the glimmer of happiness that twinkled in your eyes as you walked to the elevator with the rest of your team.
Sure, you’d probably have to look for a new job as soon as you get off this high, but maybe this break was much needed after all. All the conversations and discussions happening around you ceased to exist. You could no longer hear Shoko sobbing into Suguru’s shoulder, nor could you hear Nanami cancelling his reservation, or Choso’s incessant whining about having to pause his plans to buy an expensive action figure.
Call it insensitive, but you were starting to look at the world through rose-colored lenses.
When you reach home, you do the one thing that you’d been dreaming of since you became a corporate slave: take a five-hour-long nap during the day. Stripping off your clothes and throwing them in your laundry hamper, you skip to your bed and wrap yourself in your sheets, giggling like a woman in love as you begin to drift off.
Strong hands travel up from your thighs to your decolletage, lifting the flimsy satin night gown up your body. It’s basically a tiny piece of cloth with elastic straps stitched to it if you think about it. Or a handkerchief, depending on who’s using it. The hands throw your gown across the room, and you whine, pushing the meaty mitts away. “I’m cold.” Your nipples are sensitive as they harden due to the night’s chill. A deep chuckle rattles you to your soaked core as the hands pull you against his hardened body, fingers brushing against your aching nipples.
“You’ve got me to keep you warm, baby.” Baritone rumbles in your ears, reaching the part of your mind that melts your sanity. You grind against him, his hardening cock slipping between your slick thighs as you sigh. “Turn around. I wanna see your face as I fuck your pretty pussy.”
You comply, body warm with sleep and delirium. Your eyes flutter open to look at the man who had you caged against him like he’d been shaped to fit you there.
But all the color drains from your face when you realize it’s the fuckass IT tech, Sukuna Ryomen.
You wake up panting, falling off your bed to get away from him as fast as possible, but all you see are messed-up sheets and no sign of the muscled brute. You rub out the dream sand from your eyes and clutch the side of your head as you groan and cringe.
But this was a heavy one to deal with. Your core is sensitive, and your thighs are wet when you go to take a cold shower, and you’re horrified at the revelation that you might just have orgasmed to Sukuna in your sleep. Not to mention that the dream felt oddly domestic.
Karma comes for everybody. You’d been celebrating your possible last day at work with too much excitement, considering that your termination letter hadn’t even been written out.
Oh well, only a matter of time.
You order an expensive sushi dinner to celebrate your last working day and pop open a bottle of expensive wine you’d been saving for a special occasion (to be honest, you were never really sure what you were keeping it stored for. You were always one to save and never spend, so it felt good to let loose for once).
If you had friends living nearby to celebrate your termination with, you’d go all out: a Michelin star restaurant, bars where drinks cost more than twenty-five bucks each, and drunken karaoke where you’d again stuff your faces full of deep-fried snacks.
But since you don’t, you go to the one person who’s ever come closest to that status: ceos4unions.
You open up your computer to check if he’d replied to you yet. You don’t hear the jingle you so yearn for, but you see an instant messaging window pop up.
Ceos4unions: I had a gut feeling you would be on line now.
You gasp, taken aback. It had been ages since you two had the time to chat like this. The first time it ever really happened was when you both had first agreed to become pen pals.
You take a sip of your wine and type out a response. “Uh oh.”
Orchid27: Good evening to you as well. I think I’m gonna get fired. How’s your day been?
Ceos4unions: DAMN Sorry that’s happening to you. Did you finally punch Mr. Douche?
Orchid27: He’s been trying to redeem himself lately, so no (although I don’t wanna take my chance, so I always keep my fists warmed up). I’d rather not talk about work. I’m enjoying myself wayyy too much right now.
Ceos4unions: Okay, let’s talk about me then. I think my crush might start warming up to me soon. She doesn’t have a car, so I started driving her to work, and she hasn’t looked at me in disgust since!
Maybe it’s the wine, but you can’t help but picture Sukuna’s contrite expression when he’d apologized to you after the restaurant debacle. You’d hate to picture him as such, but your mind reels over Sukuna’s stupidly handsome and tattooed face when your eyes flit to your computer screen.
Orchid27: I’m happy for you. What else are you planning to do to impress her? Oh, great, Ceos4unions
Ceos4unions: The company field trip is coming up. If all goes well with my wildlife survival skills, we’ll share a tent ;)
Orchid27: Gross. Men are all the same, haha.
There it is again, an odd consistency between your lives. The corporate almanac that’s always distributed as a formality at the beginning of the year always showed when the company’s annual team building trip was, which is just a fancy way of saying that it was a camping trip where whoever goes gets a day off from pulling their weight around the office.
Could he….no, surely not.
You’d heard an old college alumnus say that certain companies plan their trips together to build rapport for future collaborative projects. Gojo Technologies has done so in the past, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.
So why does the possibility of meeting him thrill you?
You choose not to mention your work trip. For your sanity, of course.
But it would be nice to put a face to the person beyond your screen. Then at least you’d know that he wasn’t just someone you’d dreamed up to cope with the crapiness of being a corporate slave.
Ceos4unions: Come on, there’s no need to act all holier than thou. Besides, I wasn’t even thinking about sex.
You chew your lip and rub your hands together before typing up a response.
Orchid27: Can I ask you something?
Orchid27: Promise me that you won’t think I’m weird.
Ceos4unions: I’ve lived a colorful life, so I know what the worst form of weird looks like. Shoot.
Orchid27: I had one of “those” dreams about Mr. Douche.
The conversation takes a pause. It’s over. Your pen pal thinks you’re a gross, perverted, weirdo who uses hate to justify whatever you do.
It’s all over. Your respect in a stranger’s eyes? Gone. Your will to live? Disappearing with each passing second. Your mental state? In the depths of—
Ceos4unions: Man, with the way you’d texted, I thought you’d done something worse. We’ve all been there, orchid27.
Ceos4unions: It may seem like it’s just another dream, but I think your mind is trying to send you a message. Unresolved feelings perhaps?
Orchid27: NO. I don’t even want to entertain that possibility.
Ceos4unions: fine. I guess it’s just sexual frustration. You need to get laid lol.
Ceos4unions: now I’m starting to wonder if my crush has ever had such dreams about me.
The conversation eventually steers back to your pen pal. It’s mostly him taking advice on how he can come off as a good boyfriend to his crush. You think all his effort is adorable. It’s not every day you see someone make a genuine effort towards dating someone, and your pen pal’s existence gives you hope that not all is lost.
Your ex wasn’t the best man, and nor was he the best partner. Cheating greatly hindered your ability to trust someone, but talking to ceos4unions really helped your case.
Anonymity was the main driving force, really. Sooner rather than later, you found yourself easily opening up to a stranger. Knowing that there’s someone out there who doesn’t pity you for your life but rather only knows you as someone who’s interesting enough to constantly correspond with gives you the kind of peace that’s hard to find even in the most quiet corners of the world.
You had a good friend. As unconventional as he may be. One can only hope that they don’t lose a bond like this to time and distance.
—
The investigation only lasted a day, much to your surprise. Deep down, you sort of knew there wasn’t anything to worry about, considering that nobody was in the know about the whole situation (at least as far as you’re aware of). It was Naoya’s absence from the company that excited you the most. Hopefully, things would be different with a new person in charge.
As an apology for the scare, the new CEO of Zenin Group, Toji Fushiguro himself, treated the entire department to dinner.
What you don’t understand is why Sukuna had to be there, too.
He’s charming, you think–in a psychopathic kind of way. It’s hard to shake that image off of him, considering how he had terrorized you for a long time before only recently trying to redeem himself.
Shoko notices that you’re only picking at your plate, rolling around the peas with your fork as you look distanced.
“What’s wrong?” Her intuition and curiosity always get the best of her. It’s probably why she’s so outspoken.
“It’s a team dinner. I don’t get why the IT tech needs to be here too,” you complained as you stabbed your pea with a prong of your fork. Shoko looks a bit concerned, almost as if she assumed that you were visualizing Sukuna’s head as the pea. “He’s everywhere,” you continued.”At work, after work, in my–” You stop yourself from revealing too much, but it’s too late because Shoko is already opening her mouth.
“You had a sex dream about him?” she whispered. Instead of replying, you drink your Aperol spritz. “You sneaky little–oh my gosh, do you have a weird little crush on him now?”
You nearly spit your drink out. “How in hell did you reach that conclusion?”
“You’ve been staring a lot at him lately. I mean, you always do, but it’s usually with contempt. But these days, it’s with a little less of that, and more of… I don’t know, indifference? Plus, you guys have been coming into work together lately.”
Shoko’s still not wrong. To the untrained eye, it would seem like you were hooking up with Sukuna after work.
“He owed me for all the weird shit he had pulled in the past.” You give a straight-laced answer that wouldn’t lead to further inquiries, but Shoko only pesters you further.
“Okay, then, why now? Why is he suddenly so nice to you? Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to hear less bickering around the office, but I don’t understand what took him so long.”
Your eyes flit to Sukuna, who’s chuckling about something Toji said. His tongue sweeps over his lips, and you gulp. Those same lips were on your neck in your dreams. The ‘laidback office worker’ look suits him well; rolled up sleeves, messy hair, blue-light glasses in his work bag. His palms are calloused, likely because of the barbells he lifts. Shit, the sheer swelling of his biceps against his shirt showed you that he could probably bench you like you weighed nothing.
Heat burns your cheeks when your eyes meet, his smile disappearing as you both gulp at the same time. You look away first, only to face a smug Shoko.
“Ugh, shut up,” you groan as you go back to picking at your food.
Shoko isn’t wrong. Why did Sukuna choose now, of all times, to be so nice to you?
The group disperses after dinner. Suguru and Shoko, as usual, leave together. Nanami lived nearby, and Choso had a friend picking him up. Toji said something about wanting to be home before his son got mad at him, leaving you and Sukuna alone.
“Come on, I’m dropping you home.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like he knows you won’t question much when anything was for your benefit.
He’s not wrong, but you, at the moment, don’t think you can be in an enclosed space with him. Flashes of your dream revisit you each time you gaze at him.
“I think I’m just gonna take the train tonight,” you ramble out as you scurry towards the exit.
“Okay, then let me at least drive you to the station.” You notice him about to grab your arm to stop you, but he quickly retracts it.
“No, I want to take a walk.”
“It’s still dark and late. Let me walk you to the station.” Sukuna looks at you with great persistence, and you’re not sure why, but you agree even if it means that he’d have to walk back to the restaurant to get his car from the valet.
Your shoulders occasionally brush when you walk. The alcohol made it a little difficult to stay balanced on your heels, so walk as slowly as possible. But even then, your feet wobble, making you nearly topple over had it not been for Sukuna.
“Here, hold on to my arm,” he says as he extends it to you after your embarrassing incident. Sukuna rolls his eyes when he notices an apprehensive gaze. “Calm down, I just wanna make sure you don’t twist your ankle.”
Wordlessly, you clutch on to his bicep. Your breath gets caught in your throat when you feel just how hard the muscle is there. Your hands can barely wrap around him.
When you arrive at the station, he waits for the train with you. Usually, he’d be annoying you with needless conversation, but instead, he was quiet. When you look up at him, you notice that he’s staring at the ground, the tips of his ears and his cheeks red (which was weird because he hadn’t drunk tonight).
The train’s horn echoes in from the depths of the tark tunnel, indicating its arrival, and Sukuna flexes his jaw before covering your ears as the horn grows louder when the train finally stops.
“Text me once you get home.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You quickly move his hands away from your head, walking into the train. You take a seat that faces away from him; however, you can still see his reflection in the carriage windows across you.
He doesn’t leave even when the train starts moving, and you don’t turn back to bid him a final farewell.
Shoko’s words constantly ring through your mind on the train ride home. Weird little crush really was the best way to describe the situation. You hoped most of it was just your hormones talking, but you weren’t a teenager anymore.
As a grown-up, one doesn’t simply start liking someone because they do one nice thing for you. But Sukuna’s case was different. It started with hate, but then bloomed into something new. When you removed the veil of skepticism and saw him from an outsider’s perspective, he wasn’t all that bad.
He’s good at his job, gets along with his coworkers, has good long-term friendships, takes care of his health, and recognizes his faults when he’s told he’s wrong.
The ideal man. Just not conventional for your circumstances.
So why did this ideal version of him come out after so long? It’s almost as if it were hidden away from you because it was waiting for the right moment. You’re not sure for what reason, but it’s the only conclusion your puzzled mind can conjure up.
You often find yourself complaining to your pen pal about the annoying IT tech at your soul-sucking corporate job. If only you knew that they shared the same identity beyond the screen.
or: the “You’ve Got Mail” au
MASTERLIST
prologue < chapter 1 > chapter 2
You’re a mess when you tumble out of the elevator, your feet wobbling because of the forsaken dress code for women that requires them to wear heels. The umbrella that you accidentally ripped a hole in is dripping water everywhere, because by some misfortune, you had unknowingly thrown out its cover along with the rest of your ex’s stuff that was rotting in the back of your closet.
The price you had to pay for deep cleaning your house on a weekday was that you had to look like a complete trainwreck in front of your coworkers the next day.
Nothing seems to be going your way lately. You had accidentally added salt instead of sugar to your coffee earlier this week, had to stay past five by yourself twice in a row, and had ripped your stocking in the middle of an important meeting.
“Looking sharp,” Sukuna remarks as he walks past you with the rest of your department in tow. Shoko and Suguru throw sorry looks your way as they continue conversing with him about some show they all like. Scoffing at his attitude, you pull yourself together, throwing your broken umbrella away in a nearby trash can. You could simply buy another one at a nearby convenience store after work.
Sukuna’s attitude towards you, though? Not something that can be replaced easily. It’s been foul since you started working at the company, and you have no idea why. It’s a shame, though, if his personality were as good as his looks, you would’ve asked him out despite your lack of confidence. A man too strapping to look twice in your direction.
Your coworkers aren’t seen anywhere when you make it to your desk. You don’t blame them. There were still ten minutes till the clock struck nine, so most of them usually hung out by the IT office, which happens to be on the same floor, and right by the break room. After graduating and getting your first real job, you realized there wasn’t much difference between high school and an average corporate office. There was still a hierarchy and a system of popular kids and average Joes. A frustrating but true fact. Being a corporate slave wasn’t much different than being a loner. Well, save for the days on when you’d hang out with your coworkers after overtime.
The moment you sit, your chair lets out an odd squeak like it’s already exhausted when the day has just begun, much like you. A few heads turn, and you look down at your desk to not garner any more attention than you already have.
You slowly blink at the email login screen, but instead of entering your password, you open an incognito window and enter an archaic website’s name.
www.anonpal.com
And instead of your company’s domain login page, your computer loads an old-fashioned website. Something like Windows XP or a government services website where the icons for options like ‘log in’ and ‘forgot password’ still had a sheen designed on them.
You enter your corny little username (orchid27–named after the first thing your eyes landed on while you were signing up) and password. You don’t realize it until your joints ache, but you were crossing your fingers, hoping that he was online for a chat, all with giddy knees bouncing with your shitty faux leather heels.
But the little grey dot next to his name lets you draw a sigh instead. So you leave him a short letter venting about the little things that make your life shittier than it already is.
———
Dear ceos4unions,
I know it’s been a week, and I’m sorry for leaving you hanging. I should’ve given you some kind of warning, but honestly, life has just been incredibly shitty to me lately. It’s not even lunchtime, and I’ve embarrassed myself in front of my coworkers.
Today was just another one of those days where everything that could go wrong did go wrong. It’s the little things that tip the scale, you know? (like accidentally mixing salt instead of sugar in your coffee)
Hoping that your week isn’t soggy and is going way better than mine,
–Orchid27.
———
You had no idea who you were sending these emails to. It could be a chatbot on the site whose sole purpose was to keep it alive for all you knew, but it was cathartic to just word vomit to him. He claimed to be a man living in the same city as you. You answered your part, but refrained from going further, stating that the anonymity was comforting, to which he agreed with no protest, doing the same himself.
It felt like throwing words out into the void, knowing that nothing was going to come back to bite you over them. A sense of safety in the unknown.
You had found the website on some shady forum after your ex had left you feeling absolutely debilitated after cheating on you. Nothing gave you the same comfort you’d get when you’d see the little green dot blinking on the screen or receive a notification with a cheerful ‘You’ve got mail’ jingle. Friends had recommended different shrinks, workout classes, and whatnot, but for some strange reason, the only thing that had finally brought you out of the pits of depression was exchanging letters with a stranger.
You had a hard time trusting people. Talking about your feelings just didn’t come as easily to you anymore (not unless it was with ceos4unions). The mystery helped you cope with the fact that there wouldn’t be any consequences.
Before you know it, lunch hour rolls around. You roll your chair a few inches away from your desk, and it makes that loud creaking sound again. This time, all eyes are on you. To escape the weird stares, you trudge to the break room, where unsurprisingly, Sukuna is already slacking off.
You instantly notice his sharp gaze on you, which already makes you want to shrink into a sad little puddle on the ground. But alas, you can only feel sorry for yourself for so long, so you walk to the coffee pot for some much-needed caffeine.
“Sorry, got the last cup,” Sukuna snarked when you noticed the empty pot.
“You could’ve at least made a new one,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you open the cabinet. However, seeing that the coffee beans hadn’t been restocked was just your luck. “Are you kidding me?”
You glare at Sukuna, and he simply stares out the window. “I hope you know this breakroom is meant for the accounts department.” You know your attempt at confronting him with facts is useless. Everyone loves him too much. He makes Shoko and Suguru laugh as they share the same humor, he lends Kento his car occasionally so they get along just fine, and Choso is his best friend from college.
“Yeah, but unfortunately for you, I’m an honorary member.” He shrugs. The red coffee cup with the Zenin group logo looks comically small in his hands. All he needs is to take one big gulp, and the drink would finish.
Shoko walks in with Suguru, and they frown when they notice the empty pot. “Ugh, not now. I’m going through serious withdrawals. Feel like I could fall asleep any second,” Shoko groans as she leans on Suguru’s bicep.
“Well, Sukuna took the last cup, so what can we do?” You roll your eyes as you walk to the pantry, surprised to find that there’s only one snack left, and it just happens to be your favorite. “We’re out of snacks, too,” you point out as you tear open the packet. You feel Sukuna’s gaze flit to you, but as soon as you catch it, he looks back at Shoko.
“Well, I guess we know who we’re sending for a coffee run today,” Suguru announces with a firm tone. All three of you look at Sukuna, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine, but I’m taking her with me,” he says as he points to you. Your eyes widen as you scoff at his condition. “And why would I join you?”
“Because I can’t carry all those drinks alone,” he says in a ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ tone.
“Really? You have all those muscles and can’t carry a few twelve-ounce cups?”
“It’s because I don’t wanna spill them, but thanks for noticing my muscles.” You want to roll your eyes back into your head as your cheeks burn with a temperature that could rival the Sun’s. “You’re paying,” you grumble.
“Of course I am. I make more than you,” he smirks as he walks out the door. You look at your phone, hoping that time has gone the least bit faster since you entered the room.
It had only been ten minutes. Down to the company cafe you go.
—
It was hard not to be the center of attention when you were standing next to Sukuna. The man was the definition of the perfect bachelor: handsome, smart, has a great income, and towering height. He had everything most men sought to achieve. You were pretty sure you’d heard a rumor going around that Sukuna owned an Aston Martin. It wouldn’t seem that hard to believe it. He looked perfectly suited to have one.
When you finally state your order to the barista, Sukuna scoffs with amusement. “Make that one 16 ounces,” he says as he hands over his card.
“What was that about?” you asked as you both walked out of the line and towards the pick-up station. You’re finally noticing a lot of things about Sukuna that you otherwise wouldn’t have cared about because you had a boyfriend before.
Like the way his glasses have an expensive brand’s monogram engraved on the temples, or how his chest slightly strains against his navy blue shirt. Unlike you, he wears a smart watch which shows that he’s already burned off a few hundred calories today. He leads a life different from yours. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like you as much as the other coworkers.
“I mean, if you’re gonna die, why not go all out?”
“I’m not as smart as you, so you’re gonna have to be a little more clear,” you sarcastically reply.
“Four pumps of syrup? Really? Does the idea of having clogged arteries turn you on or something?”
You chew the inside of your cheek before you dig your phone out of your pocket.
“What are you doing?” Sukuna asks, an amused smile on his face as he watches you closely. His gaze feels like a spotlight, making your fingers tremble as you unlock your phone.
“I’m not gonna die by your hands. I’m gonna return what I owe for the coffee.”
“I’ll just return the money to you. I can’t let the golden opportunity go,” he teases, and for a second, you feel like you see his canines grow, turning his smile into a wolfish grin. His eyes habitually fixate on you like you’re his prey. You don’t need your anxiety adding on to it by staring at him continuously, so you turn away, choosing to stare at the barista who was now making your drink. One pump, two pumps, three pumps, four pumps. All the syrup dripping down the walls of the plastic cup had quickly pooled at the bottom.
“Whatever. I’ve had a shitty week so I deserve at least one good thing,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.
It was not like making conversation with him had any real direction at all. For him, it was always about running in circles or catching you at dead ends. For you, it was all about getting him off your tail, like holding your pigtails together so the bully wouldn’t tug on them during recess.
When you both go upstairs, all your coworkers are overjoyed to see the drinks in his hand (turns out the fucker can hold the drinks by himself). You quietly grab your drink as you shuffle away to your desk, the ache in your back decreasing by an increment when you get back into your bubble.
When Sukuna gets together with your coworkers, the group is bound to get loud. You look over your shoulder and notice just how much he preens when he gets attention. You think of him as a pompous peacock, trying to do odd mating dances to attract his mate, and snicker to yourself.
And once again, you notice that he is the complete opposite of you. No wonder you both butt heads so much.
–
Your superior had dumped a few last-minute reports on your head right when you were finally looking forward to getting out of your tight work clothes. When the files hit your desk, you wish to hurl them at his head instead, but instead, you smile because the extra overtime pay would really help you.
Also, because you’re still new at the company, you couldn’t get too comfortable with refusing extra work when you were just a rookie.
You go to the washroom to freshen up before leaving. The veins in your eyes were getting more prominent by the hour, and you needed a splash of cold water to give you that last bit of energy to put yourself through the gruesome hour-long train ride back home. You want to shriek at the sight in the mirror–unkempt hair, eye bags, and dry skin. It’s hard to be kind to yourself when life keeps kicking you in the gut with different problems like student loans, high rent, and the indignation of taking public transport. Add a shitty coworker to the mix and you’ve hit the jackpot for modern day struggles.
You think the day cannot get worse when you see heavy rain blurring the view outside, but when you walk to your desk, you’re surprised to find an umbrella sitting on your desk. There’s not a drop of water on it, like it had been drying since the morning. You assume that possibly one of your coworkers might have left it, but the thought is diminished when you remember that Nanami and Choso carpool, and Suguru and Shoko have their own cars.
Maybe it’s the universe’s way of saying that life can be kind after all. So you silence all doubts and click the ground-level button in the elevator, with a new umbrella in hand.
The sun tends to directly shine into your eyes everywhere you go.
When you sit in the bus, it’s always coincidentally right where the morning or afternoon sun hits the seats. The giant lecture halls with floor to ceiling windows burn the room with a heat that’s so intense that people tend to take off their sweaters even when the weather is cold.
But it’s nice. The warmth makes you feel hopeful for what’s to come. Maybe a full time job. A serious boyfriend. Who knows?
You smile awkwardly at Gojo as he walks over to you with a bouquet of flowers. Never in the past year did you think that you’d be able to walk across the stage, but you did. The smile on your face didn’t feel like it was forced—it grew over time till the skin around your eyes creased.
“Look at you, college graduate,” Satoru commented as he took in your get up with your black robe and hat. You didn’t have any academic excellence cords sported around your neck but you did have an internship contract.
You thanked him as he handed you the bouquet of sunflowers. It’s not a typical congratulatory flower but it perfectly described how you felt—a flower preening under the sun’s light. They’re bright and loud, and they make you forget about your murky past. It’s a new beginning marking the start of summer and a different chapter of your life.
“How do you feel? Scared for the big, wide adult world?” Satoru joked as he pulled his phone out to take a picture of you with the flowers.
You pose and then look at the card that says your name and qualification. An unconscious smile breaks out on your face as you read the words over and over again. “I think, for the first time ever, I’m more excited than afraid for the future.”
—
He watches you with his blood-red gaze from across the quad. He assumed he’d look odd with his pink hair turning bright under the sun so he opted for a baseball cap to hide himself.
You looked happy—way happier than when you were with him. And it wasn’t because of another man.
It was all you, picking yourself up from your bootstraps and pulling yourself through the trenches.
An odd sense of positivity bloomed in his chest and he visibly grimaced at the feeling. Drug Lord, Sukuna Ryomen, was proud of the person who’d destroyed themselves over and over again as he encouraged it.
When he sees you shake hands with your peers and professors, he realizes one thing: he was never good for you and the only thing he could ever do to support you was look out for you from the sidelines.
The sun feels so bright that it begins to burn his pale skin.
