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seeingivy · 16 hours

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middle name

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friends older brother fic

previous part linked here

all you can do is stare.

there’s the smallest hint of gray hairs mixed in with his natural color. his hair is longer, but it’s still the same color. he has the faintest smile lines near his eyes and that small wisp of a beard that he used to always sport is long gone.

he looks younger. what you assume is his youngest daughter is wearing a sparkly green bracelet. green was always sammy’s favorite color. they both seem to have his nose – though that’s really the only resemblance they bear, since they almost entirely take after the lady at their side.

she had to be younger than him, a willowing black dress clinging lovingly to her figure. she had the same smile lines and that short haircut that you find young moms always sported, with three stacked silver chains and a glittering diamond on her finger.

you wonder if she smells like vanilla like your mom does.

“don’t react.”

you turn to your left to find sammy at your side, sukuna and yuuji hovering in the background with matching hazel eyes filled with concern. you shake your head – throwing away the image of their picture perfect smiles – as you focus on sammy, mostly on the fact that her upper lip is trembling.

sammy was always the favorite.

“what did you say?” you ask.

“don’t react.” sammy repeats.

you pause, mulling over the thought.

“okay.” you respond.

“yeah? because we can’t give that asshole the satisfaction. he has no right barging in here the way he just did.” sammy seethes.

you give her a nod, before she takes her side next to you on the wall, the four of you leaning against the wallpaper. sukuna slithers his hand into yours, offering you a smile that you don’t return, before focusing back on the four of them in the living room.

it annoyed you – that you didn’t have enough time to really consider what the best course of action would be. not reacting, you suppose you could understand the appeal. of showing him that you were above him, that he didn’t even warrant a response.

but deep down, you wondered if that would bother you the day after next. if you would be standing in the shower, rinsing the soap out of your hair, and somehow come up with the right thing to say, that would perfectly encapsulate whatever it was that you were feeling.

though you suppose that’s easier said than done. you can barely put words to whatever it is that’s forming in your chest.

you watch as he talks to sukuna’s old basketball coach. so loudly animated as he chats – about how the property values are better two towns over and how the school district is better for the girls. you wonder if the coach thinks it’s offensive. you wonder if he ever considered that you and sammy needed to switch to a better school too.

and it happens in a split second – your dad catching the sight of the four of you – before lifting off the couch and closing the distance between you. yuuji shoots you a weary glance as he gives the four of you a bright smile, before clearing his throat.

you catch a slight whiff of the lemon smell as he walks up, though the lingering scent of smoke you remember gone all together.

“sukuna. is that you?”

you look over at sukuna, watching as he swallows hard, before clenching his jaw.

“yes.”

you watch as he frowns, before pressing one of his hands to his chest.

“i’m so sorry for your loss, kid.” he states.

“sure. thanks.” sukuna responds, rather stiffly.

you can tell that your dad finds the situation uncomfortable – being treated so blandly by the kid he watched grow up, a kid that he knows could surely be more expressive than that – as his eyes flicker over to you and then back to sukuna.

“your dad told me you studied abroad in europe. is this a pretty girlfriend you brought back?”

you bite down so hard on your cheek that all you taste is metallic blood pouring out of the side of your mouth. the implication makes all of you seethe.

that he still talked to people in town. that sukuna’s dad had known his whereabouts, probably for years. and worst of all, that he didn’t recognize you.

“what?” sukuna hisses.

your dad turns over to you, eyes bright, as he holds his hand out. you can feel a sensational burning in the back of your eyes.

“he always used to brag about how his son was studying with the greats. i’m mr. l/n. i’ve known sukuna since he was little.” he states, holding his hand out.

you swallow down the lump of bile, before extending your hand out to him, unsettled by the freezing cold feeling.

that was in no way what mr. itadori said. and he didn't know sukuna, only briefly, when he was little, before he ran away. and you know exactly who he is – far too well.

“nice to meet you.” you mumble.

“take care of this one, okay? he’s a tough one, but we all need a little love sometimes.” he jokes, lightly tapping sukuna on the shoulder.

you watch as he gives sukuna a lingering smile, before shuffling over two steps to where sammy is. sukuna places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes boring into yours – like he’s trying to beckon for your attention – as you watch the two of them.

“hi sammy girl.” he whispers.

you watch as sammy’s eyes water. sukuna watches as you clench your jaw.

“hi dad.” she whispers.

so much for not reacting.

you wonder if you would have broken just as fast if he recognized you. though you suppose you’ll never know, because he didn’t.

it’s a long list of things you’ll never know. the questions that bother you at night – the ones that expose that deep rooted rot that festered in your brain – seem to come to the surface for the first time, in broad daylight.

when did he fall out of love with your mom? when was sukuna going to fall out of love with you? why does he have such a distaste for you? if you were more polite like sammy, would he have stayed? if you screamed a little louder, would the begging have worked?

“i wanted to tell you something.”

you watch as he slings his hand around sammy’s shoulder, squeezing hard, before pointing to the two little girls that are seated on the couch, the two of which were making a mess of mrs. itadori’s coaster set. you wonder what she’d think fo all of this, if she wasn’t so preoccupied.

“those are my girls. claire and molly.”

you watch as sammy scrunches up her nose, her fists clenched into little balls at her side.

“molly was born a year ago. she’s a little shy, but she loves music. but claire, claire’s the exact opposite. headstrong, strong-willed. exactly how a big sister should be.”

“so?” sammy asks, her voice dripping with attitude.

he shakes his head.

“what i mean is that my girl claire reminds me of you. my first girl. so much so, that…well. claire and molly are real special to me. but you, my sammy girl, are always going to be the person who made me a father. that’s why i made claire’s name claire samantha.”

you watch the tears spill from sammy’s eyes, the most bitter contempt in her eyes, as she turns to him, wiping away the stray.

the questions return. what festers in someone to breed such cruelty? what horrors could you and sammy had exacted in your past life to deserve it? how much pressure does it take before something cracks?

would sammy ever get over the fact that she had basically, for all intents and purposes, been replaced? which one is worse – not warranting recognition or just enough to be traded out for the shinier new model?

“thanks dad. that’s real kind of you.” she mutters, crossing her hands over her chest before leaning back against the wall.

you watch as his face falls, albeit halfheartedly – the clear inclination that he didn’t really mind that the statement didn’t land as he intended – before he turns back to the three of you and gives you an awkward smile.

“family stuff.” he mutters.

he disgusts you.

“well, i’ll take my leave. molly’s about to start fussing. i’m very sorry for your loss again, boys.”

you watch as he walks off, retreating back to the couch and picking up claire – claire samantha – before you feel sukuna’s lips on your temple, his hands rubbing circles into your side. yuuji’s at sammy’s side, offering her his pocket square which she takes.

“oh shit.” sammy mutters.

“what?” you ask.

“he’s going to the patio, where mom is.”

you clear your throat, turning on your heel to move, before sammy reaches for your elbow.

“it’s better if you stay here. you don’t want to make things worse when he realizes it’s actually you.” sammy responds, before walking off towards the direction of the room.

sukuna watches as you step back, cursing the fact that sammy, for the most part, always seemed to have a horrible way with words, as he reaches for your hand.

he knows what she meant. that whatever reaction your mom was going to warrant would get infinitely worse when she realized that your own father wasn’t able to recognize you at first glance.

but she didn’t need to say it like that, sinking words placing the blame on you.

“she didn’t mean it like that.” yuuji states.

sukuna watches as you look over at yuuji, face blank, as you nod. he can see that you’re picking at the scab from the shot glass a few days prior on your hand, but you sidestep too fast before he stick his hand in between yours and make you stop.

“i know.” you respond.

it stings.

“i’m just going to take a minute. i’ll be back.” you respond.

you drag your feet as fast as they can take you to sukuna’s room, before shutting the door behind you, quick and fast breaths heaving out of your chest as your vision blurs. sukuna’s voice is quiet, muffled by the wood.

“hey. i’m on the other side when you’re ready for me, okay pretty girl?”

you sit in sukuna’s room for two hours, watching the sun sink down into the horizon from his window, watching as people trail in and out of the front door from below. it’s a pretty sunset – a vibrant mix of purple, blue, and pink – with the clouds swirling beneath.

if sukuna’s dad was a different type of guy, you’d almost think it was a sign from him. that sweet solace that people felt – seeing their loved ones in the beauty of nature.

though, you’d figure he’d be more of a hurricane or a tornado, wrecking havoc to everything he touched, as opposed to a pretty sunet that shed light.

sitting at the windowsill is the first time you realize that from sukuna’s vantage point, he’s always had a perfect view of your bedroom window. it’s not exactly level, so you assume that he was probably never able to see much, except for if your light was on or off and if your curtains were pulled.

you wonder how often he stared at it.

you find one of his sukuna’s old hoodies and pull it over your dress, before climbing into his sheets and pressing your face into his pillow. it smells faintly of his shampoo, the smell so sweetly comforting, as you feel your eyes swell up, the choking feeling in your throat unbearable.

the sounds that leave you are embarrassing, but luckily, you’re the only one who can hear them.

[sammy]: mai came to get me. let’s talk tomorrow okay?

the typing bubble appears, before disappearing. and after a few minutes, a second text followers.

[sammy]: i love you.

you wonder if that complicated, infected part of your brain that seemed to always cultivate some type of disgust for sammy, even when nothing really happened, was a part that you got from your dad.

you’re almost positive that it is. and it bothers you that it somehow feels like it’s something so fundamental, almost biological, that she’ll always rub salt into a wound that you can’t even heal.

you turn your phone off instead.

“are you okay? your mom mentioned that you went upstairs pretty abruptly, said you needed a minute.”

sukuna looks up to find your mom standing there, two ice cold bottles of water in her hands, before she plops down on the carpet next to him, hiking her knees to her chest. the usual picture of perfect hair is astray, the front stands pulled out, and sukuna absentmindedly wonders if you get your hair pulling habit from her.

he doesn’t respond. only because what he said was a lie.

not entirely at least. it was true that he needed a minute, it was just an obstruction of truth that he really needed to take that minute for you.

sukuna notes that she doesn’t mind the silence that much – not only because it’s something that she was well versed in, the mere fact that sukuna didn’t really like to talk when it came to things like this – and instead changes the subject.

“has she come out yet?” she asks.

“no. did yuuji tell you what happened?” sukuna responds.

she smiles, leaning her head back against the rungs of the stairs.

“you missed quite a show downstairs.”

“what?”

she laughs, before reaching up to mess with the ends of the strand closest to her ear.

“he walked out onto the patio with his wife, cindy he said her name was, because he wanted to offer his condolences. your mom responded by slapping him across the face.”

sukuna wishes he was there to see it. or do it himself.

“he was about to start yelling but that’s when sammy came out. i got the gist of what happened before, because sammy basically dragged him out on his ear, giving him a choice set of words about how he can’t gives his new daughter the same names as his old ones, and that he wasn’t her father, no matter how much he deluded himself into thinking that he was.”

sukuna watches as she pauses, taking a shaky breath.

“he told sammy that he wouldn’t really want to be their father anyways, which is why he left, and yuuji punched him in the face.”

sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose.

“i really did miss a show, didn’t i?” he mutters.

“nothing we aren’t used to. i’d think hell froze over if there wasn’t some type of drama at this thing. though, i’d expect violent dramatics from you, not yuuji.”

sukuna shakes his head.

“he came up and talked to all of us before you. he didn’t even recognize y/n, he…he thought she was some girlfriend i brought home from studying abroad. and i’d almost understand it – she was really little when she left – but there’s no excuse. she looks the exact same.” sukuna offers.

sukuna looks over, seeing the same bridge of your nose mirrored in her face, before looking back at the faded paint chipping off the wood of his bedroom door. he wished that he had yuuji’s horrible habits of hoarding snacks in his room, just so that you weren’t sitting in there crying.

“do you have the key?”

“what?”

“the key to the door.” she states.

sukuna bites at his lip.

“i’m not going to open it. or give it to you. she’ll come out when she’s ready for me.” sukuna mutters.

he watches as she laughs, full bellied and warm, before reaching forward and tangling the matted mess of his hair off of his forehead.

“have i ever been one to force you to do anything?”

sukuna sighs, slumping against the wall, before shaking his head.

he had heard the sentiment before, the first time he carried his tired and bleeding knees to the porch, after being kicked out of his house for the first time.

he nearly beat his knuckles bloody from knocking on the door loud enough before she came down, tired and weary eyes that were instantly snapped awake at his crying. and he can’t exactly remember what it was that he said, though he assumes that it wasn’t short of rudeness.

when he begged to stay. and when she let him in without a second glance, he said it quietly.

“you can’t force me to tell you what happened.”

and the response was always the same – the seventh, eight, and ninth time – before he finally got a understood.

have i ever been one to force you to do anything?

“do me a favor, sukuna.” she states.

“okay.”

“let me take care of your mom.”

sukuna looks over at her, taken aback by the sentiment. he was half expecting the half hearted lecture that sammy gave him months prior, about being careful and gentle with her sister, and was expecting a tougher version of that to come from what he knew was a very opinionated and defensive woman.

“what?”

“the worst part is over. i appreciate you picking up slack with me where you could and i’m sorry i couldn’t help more.”

sukuna shakes his head.

“she was basically debilitated. you had to stay with her.” he offers.

“and you sicked my daughter on your brother. but his boyfriend has got him for the rest and i’ll be with your mom for the foreseeable future, like i always have been.”

“i don’t think –”

“you’re leaving here tonight. and you’re taking my daughter with you.” she states.

sukuna shrugs.

“i can’t just leave her. she’s my mom and…and she’s been so fucking fragile for the past few days. you saw how she acted when –”

“and you’re her son. that’s not your job.”

she pauses.

“you step back and take care of my daughter. and maybe more importantly, let my daughter take care of you.” she whispers, raking her fingers through his hair again.

sukuna feels a shiver down his spine, before shaking his head. he can’t just leave.

“no.”

“sukuna.”

he shakes his head again, this time more fervently.

he can’t just leave. he can’t just pawn his own mother off to her and his brother to megumi and walk away.

“you know that godawful, shitty dining table downstairs that your dad picked out? the one that we gave to goodwill when he left for his trip to new york?”

“yeah.”

he remembered the fight that followed after when he realized it was gone. and sometimes, he wondered why his mom would pick a fight over something so trivial as a table.

“it was really heavy. seeing it every day irritated her to no end – that this was her house and her space and that he had taken over it another time. it pissed your mom off so much that every night, after they fought, she’d try to push it out of that damn room on her own. ”

sukuna snorts.

“i remember that.”

she smiles.

“i remember it too. watching her try to push it out of that room on her own, barely making a dent in moving it the merest inch. i think sammy even took a picture of it with that shitty disposable camera i bought her.”

sukuna rubs his palms together.

“okay.”

“i ended up helping her. carried one side and we were able to move it a few more inches. it didn’t really do much, so i got that piece of shit down the street, to help us too. and the old guy who used to live next door, the handyman. your dad was on a three day trip and it took five of us to push that god forsaken table out of the house.”

sukuna feels her pull him closer, wrapping him in a hug. it makes his chest pang, eerily similar to the feeling of being sixteen and sitting on the fact that he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

“my point is that there’s just some things you can’t carry alone, son.”

sukuna feels his throat dry. his eyes water, as he understands – the embarrassing and pitiful question spilling out as a byproduct.

“what if it’s too heavy for her? what…what if i can’t hold her up?” he asks, shaking his head as his voice cracks.

what if sukuna breaks his lifeline? an even worse fate than you dying – being the one responsible for killing you.

she smiles, before gesturing to her left, where sukuna sees yuuji standing.

“you’re more than capable, sukuna. you always have been. and there’s always an extra set of hands to help you lift.”

the thought comes an hour later.

maybe his mom did get to meet the love of her life. and maybe it just wasn’t the person he was expecting it to be.

the second one that follows makes even more sense.

of course the love was always going to be there between you and him. it was destined before you even got here. genetic even.

you make it back home around two in the morning, to three plastic wrapped plates of dinner and megumi asleep on your couch.

it feels a little bit like intruding, but the two of you can’t help but stare as yuuji lightly nudges megumi to wake up, the latter of whom literally bolts up at the sight of him, arms quick on his face before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

you look over at sukuna, gesturing for him to turn around with you, as sukuna unboxes the closest package – the replacement of the broken mug from your birthday – as you hear the two of them retreat, a quiet goodnight whispered to the pair of you.

“which mug do you want?” he asks.

“we can just share.”

there’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he wraps his hands around your wrists, his touch warm as he pulls you forward, tucking you straight into his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head.

and you’re not sure when it starts, but it’s not long before he’s quietly weeping, his frame shaking under you as you bury yourself closer to him, his heart pounding under your ear as you run your hands up and down his arms, quietly whispering into his ears.

he doesn’t stop. he makes no inclination of stopping and it sends a shiver down your spine.

you pull back, cupping his flushed pink cheeks, and wiping away the wetness from his eyelashes before locking your fingers together behind his neck.

“you took my jacket.” he whispers, voice strained.

“it was cold in your room.” you respond.

he nods, before leaning his forehead against yours, quietly trying to steady his breaths in pace with yours, before he abruptly pulls away, and leans against the granite.

“what’s wrong?” you ask.

he gestures his head to the left, where yuuji is standing, before quickly wiping the wetness from his face and pouring the warm milk into the mug. you give him a nod before retreating over to where yuuji is standing, his eyes glued to sukuna.

“yuuji?”

yuuji looks over at you, shaking his head.

“sorry. i wanted to take a shower. do you –”

“i’ll get you a towel, yuu.”

yuuji watches as you retreat, socks sliding on the tile, as he runs his hand through his hair, a deeply sweltering hot regret in his chest.

he had you pegged all wrong. both of you, written off the second he found out about it.

yuuji had the tiniest glimpse of it the other day. the way you so freely ranted to sukuna, watching as he quietly attended to you by braiding your hair to stop you from pulling at it, really – exuding a quiet comfort he didn’t even know he possessed.

but this was worse. because while you were being exactly who he knew you to be – maybe just shocked that you were able to do it with someone else – what he just saw in the short amount of time – sukuna freely crying, or more importantly, openly humbling himself to let someone in to help him crawl out – it was foreign.

unheard of. yuuji was almost positive that sukuna hadn’t even done it before, being so vulnerable with someone.

and he had been giving him a hard time for it

“here’s your towel.”

yuuji grabs your hand as you hand it over to him, squeezing hard as he looks up at you, teary eyed.

“thank you.”

for loving my brother.

“of course. get some rest.” you respond, giving him a smile as you watch him retreat back to the room.

sukuna’s crying has ceased when you make your way back to the kitchen. there’s a steaming cup of hot chocolate with a godawful amount of marshmallows and whipped cream, that he passes over to you for the first sip.

“i’m back.” you respond.

he nods, as he place the cup in your hand hand. and it’s a searing warmth in your cheeks as sukuna lifts his hand, wiping the whipped cream residue from the top of your lip.

“real cute.” he responds, before licking the excess off his own fingers.

you shrug.

“i try.”

he smiles, taking the mug from you.

you’re confused by what happens next – because it looks like he’s going to say something, even going as far as opening his mouth to start talking, before he clamps it shut, with something steaming behind his eyes that you can’t really understand.

and he does it a few times.

“are you okay?”

“yeah. yeah, i just…was trying to figure out how to talk.”

“how to talk?” you ask.

“you know. about all the stuff.”

you hum in response, before looping your arm around his torso, watching the marshmallows slowly dampen under the warm liquid, the smallest amount of steam still leaving the glass.

“it’s probably a lot.” you murmur.

“you have no idea.”

“how about you pick one thing? and we’ll do one thing at a time.”

sukuna nods, heaving a deep sigh, before tangling his free hand into your hair.

“my dad was a piece of shit.”

one of the marshmallows sinks down into the cup, the curved waves of the whipped cream disintegrating with it.

“i mean…my dad was a piece of shit. he died a piece of shit and now he won’t ever be anything else.”

you nod.

“do you…do you know those lifetime shows? where people go on the news and talk about how…how different things changed their lives? like families getting out of horrible financial situations and being happy or people finally getting time to put the work in to better themselves?”

“yeah.”

“i had this really, really crappy thought that i held on to when i was a kid. that some day, that prick would just wake up, and realize what really mattered. that he’d put in the work, that i’d watch my mom get what she deserved, and…and he’d come to my wedding.” he murmurs.

sukuna shakes his head, before clenching his jaw.

“knowing him, the last thing he probably said about you was shitty. and not because he was some vile, sick asshole filled with hatred for you – but hatred for me. for yuuji. for the fact that you were fine with yuuji just as he was. liked me just as i am.”

the steam from the mug is gone.

“that stupid asshole died just as he was. a homophobic, misogynistic prick. he won’t ever change.”

you lean your head against his shoulder.

“still hurts, doesn’t it?” you ask.

sukuna nods.

and thanks his lucky stars that you had that in you, to parse out what he really meant. that his dad died just as he was and now sukuna knows that whatever it was he lost out on is something he won’t ever be able to get back.

grief for what was never going to be.

“more than you know.” he responds.

sukuna pauses.

“what do you think about it?” he asks.

you look down at the mug.

“that it’s his loss.”

“what?”

“by some turn of fate, your dad was very undeservingly blessed with two very loving children. it’s his loss that he’s died without even getting to feel even an inch of that. and i get it, that on paper, his legacy, his career – it’s seemed so worthwhile to people at your house. that even though he died young, he lived a very full life.”

you push the mug over to him.

“to me, it always seemed like he was chasing something. a better title at work, a bigger party he could throw to show off, anything that made him feel like he was larger than life. and i feel sorry for him. he’s had two boys that give the word love meaning under his roof for all these years and it’s embarrassing for him that he never got to feel it.”

you shrug.

“you won’t ever get to have the dad you wanted. but he won’t ever get to reap the benefits, the good love, of what he already had.”

sukuna leans forward, gentle hands on your cheeks, before locking his lips with yours, the kiss mixed in with his quiet tears.

the best kind of kiss he could give you – affectionate. devoted. and bare. you felt like the smallest parts of him were in the palm of your hand, to cherish and preserve.

“your turn.” he whispers.

you snort.

“do you have short term memory loss? i just told you what i thought.”

sukuna shakes his head, wiping the wetness on the back of his hand, before clearing his throat.

“i gave you three hours in that room. it’s your turn.”

you elbow him in the side, before lifting the mug with your hands.

“i gave you a week.”

“you’ve always been more patient than me. i nearly broke the door down.”

you roll your eyes.

“i know you have a key.”

“and i’d never use it.” sukuna affirms.

you smile, seeping in the warmth of the ceramic mug, as you look down at the flowery print, a mottled mess of liquid swimming from everything you had mixed in the cup.

“some part of me thinks that i’m rotten.”

sukuna watches as you set the mug down, reaching for the ends of your hair as you twirl them in your fingers.

“what?”

you sigh, warm tears in your eyes.

“i always thought that there was something wrong with me. there was always a rotten part of me, deep down, and everything i was doing was to keep it from getting out. like…like an infection or something.”

“okay.” sukuna whispers, his tone in his voice beckoning for you to continue.

“he’s vile. he’s vile for showing up to your dad’s funeral. for not even saying a word to yuuji when he was there the day he was born, for trying to sweet talk on your behalf like he knows you or something. having a new family, two new girls, not even sparing a second glance to what came before.”

you pause.

“and he’s my dad. he’s vile and sometimes i feel like he’s…he’s in my head. that some part of him is always going to be intertwined with me and deep down, running through my blood, and that’s why i won’t ever win.”

sukuna reaches forward, cupping your warm cheeks in the palm of his hands. and you look up at him, warm brown hazel eyes so washed in concern for you, and it makes your chest hurt.

“i look at you and all i can think about is that one day, it’ll be the last time you’ll look at me like that. because you’ll leave. you’ll realize that it’s just lipstick on a pig, or…or too much and you’ll take your leave for something better.”

sukuna wishes that he was the one who got to punch him instead of yuuji.

“what do you think?” you ask.

sukuna drops his hold, lifting your hands against his lips and pressing a kiss against your knuckles.

“that i wish i punched him instead.” he states.

“what? someone punched him?”

sukuna smiles.

“my mom slapped him. and yuuji punched him. everyone got to have their cake except for me.”

you snort.

“i wish it was me. because i think he’s sick in the head.”

typical. sukuna was never one to really mince his words.

“i think it’s absolutely disgusting that he left without a trace and that the one person he talked to when he left was my dad – though i suppose that’s fitting.”

sukuna pauses.

“it’s been criminal to watch your mom suffer when she’s one of the first people who gave me a lifeline…and when she brought my second lifeline into this world.”

you smile.

“i think any bit of harshness or judgment i’ve passed on sammy is unfair, because i think i’d be immeasurably cruel at times too if the one person who was required to love me felt that i was special enough to deserve a replacement, but not enough to be the one who was actually loved.”

you sigh..

“and i think it’s batshit insane that he was unable to recognize you when most of the time, you’re the only person in the room with me. it’s entirely unbelievable to me that the one person he gave no recognition to is probably the only person who would ever deserve it.”

sukuna looks down at you and frowns.

“you’re a considerate daughter, a compassionate sister – maybe even when you shouldn’t be – and the warmest friend that my brother has ever had.”

sukuna leans forward, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead.

“you’re a beautiful girlfriend, so painfully kind-hearted towards me that i’m half convinced you’re god with the way you’re able to fix everything with just your hands. you’re everything good and every part of you is worth acknowledging and appreciating. it’s humiliating for your dad that he’s part of the reason you’re here – and that he won’t ever be able to realize that his greatest accomplishment is you.”

you lean forward, tucking yourself into his neck, and it makes sukuna shiver – the cold tears running down his neck as you quietly sob, your voice muffled against the fabric of his jacket.

“you think i’m god?” you sniffle.

sukuna rolls his eyes, unable to contain his smile.

“of course that’s what you take away from it.”

you lean back, looking up at him and the smile on his face. and you commit it to memory – the laugh, the love in the silence, and how it persists in the pain.

“people worship gods.” you clarify.

“and i worship you.”

you curl your nose in disgust.

“ew, sukuna.”

“you’re not saying ew when i’m doing it. it sounds a lot more like –”

you wrap your hand over his mouth, before shushing him.

“your brother is in the next room over.”

“he’s always such a thorn in my side.” sukuna mutters, earning you a laugh from him.

the two of you retreat after the fact. you wash sukuna’s hair in the shower. he insists on doing your skincare for you. and the sun rises on the two of you the next day.

an: LOL. ok I write dream girl now I just wanted to get that out of me.

edit: someone left an ??? upset? or like...idk the word for it comment on ao3 about the fact that it's kind of toxic that sukuna calls her god at the end. pls know that it's JUST a metaphor and he's just trying to compare her to something that's really important and being hyperbolic 💌

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cece693 · 3 days

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Can you create another Bella Swan x Male Reader. Maybe a human reader, a new student in her highschool. Bella that stuck in her room for weeks after Edward leave her, finally went to school, she didn't expect talking to m/n is easy and making her feel better, but it did. And loving him is easy, no danger to her or charlie, no threat from his family for dating him. Idk if this make sense, but i hope for fluffy moments between them and maybe a little angst when Edward comeback, Bella choose m/n of course. Thx in advance🥰🥰

Second Chance at Love (Bella Swan x M! Reader)

Sorry for the late delivery but I hope you like it. I tried to include everything you asked for, but I'm no magician :)

tags: depression, edward being manipulative, bella finally getting some sense knocked into her, charlie approves, human male reader

Charlie stood outside Bella’s open bedroom door, his heart heavy at the sight that had become a permanent fixture. Knees pulled into her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, it seemed as if that was the only thing keeping her from collapsing onto the hardwood floor. Lifeless brown eyes stared out the window, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, with only her shallow breathing proving she was still among the living.

Anger churned within Charlie, directed at the Cullen boy who had caused his daughter so much pain. It was his departure, along with that of his family, that broke her, leaving her alone to wrestle with a heartache she wasn't equipped to handle. The sight was eerily familiar to how he spent his days after Renee departed, leaving him not only an empty home but a heart. Stepping into the room, the floorboards creaking under his weight, Charlie stood behind his daughter.

“Bella,” he said softly, hoping to break through the fog of her despair, yet received no response. “You’re moving back in with your mother.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing. Then, finally, Bella turned to him, her eyes filled with defiance and despair. "No." she rasped, her voice weak from disuse. “You can’t do that. I’ve built a life here—”

“Which you’ve abandoned,” Charlie cut in, rubbing his face tiredly. “When was the last time you spoke to Jacob, Angela, Jessica…? You haven’t been to school. You barely eat.” Clearly, he struggled to get the words out, his wish for Bella to remain in Forks being overridden by his desire to see her get better. “Perhaps a change of environment will do you good.”

“No, please.” Bella pleaded, her last connection to Edward about to disappear if she didn’t do something quickly. “I’ll go to school. In fact, today I plan to hang out with friends in Port Angeles.” It was an utter lie, but when Charlie looked somewhat relieved, Bella knew she had to commit to it.

“Alright. But if I don’t see a change, we’re calling your mom.” With that, Charlie turned and left for work, leaving Bella to prepare for school. Moving almost mechanically, Bella went through all the motions of getting ready—she showered, dressed, and grabbed her backpack, all with a sense of detachment. As she drove to school, the world around her seemed muted, the colors dull and the sounds distant.

The school day passed in a blur. She drifted from class to class, barely aware of her surroundings. She saw her friends in the hallways but avoided making eye contact, too exhausted to engage. Lunchtime came and went without her touching her food as she instead sat at the Cullen table, looking out the blinds as if they would appear at any moment.

Finally, Bella found herself in English class, seated at her desk with her head lowered, staring at her hands. The chatter of the other students faded into the background as she lost herself in thoughts of Edward. His face, his voice, his touch—they haunted her every moment, a constant reminder of what she had lost. The seat beside her was empty, until a shadow was seen from her peripheral and a new voice broke through her reverie. “Hi, I’m M/N.” he introduced himself, his voice warm and friendly. "Mind if I sit here?"

Bella took a deep breath, struggling to respond. "Sure." she whispered, after what most likely was a minute too long. Yet, M/N paid no mind, taking the seat to her right, his presence strangely comforting. He was the new student Bella had heard moved from [hometown/state]. His arrival created an uproar not only due to his mother, who was a Forks native, but also for his handsome features. There were whispers among students of him being related to the Cullens, but Bella disagreed. M/N was beautiful, but not like her Edward.

As the days went by, M/N made several attempts to engage Bella in conversation—he would ask her how she was doing, talk about the latest assignment, or share stories about his life, yet Bella’s responses were always short, barely a sentence. He ignored Jessica’s warnings about getting too close to her, going on and on about how Bella became mute and unresponsive after breaking up with her boyfriend, yet M/N remained undeterred. Everybody needed a friend, even if they didn’t think so.

“Good Morning.” M/N greeted after a month and a half of one-sided conversations. Sitting down at their table, the boy was surprised when Bella smiled and returned his greeting. She looked happier, shoulders not hunched into themselves and dressed in something other than baggy clothing. But it wasn’t just him who noticed, it was the school, but most importantly Charlie. He was glad to see his daughter turn back into herself, and although he didn’t know what exactly caused this, he was thankful for whatever or whoever returned the life to her.

Bella couldn’t pinpoint where thoughts of Edward disappeared from her head, but as she got to know M/N further, they did. The dark cloud looming over her, asking why Edward would do such a thing, the hope of them returning, was erased and replaced with present thoughts regarding M/N. At this revelation, Bella was frightened. She was scared of falling in love again, only for it to end with M/N leaving, but a part of her was also relieved and excited. M/N had shown her he cared—who else would’ve kept trying to talk to her after such a cold shoulder? And even if he didn’t feel the same, Bella was content to keep him in her life.

October

November

December

January

Months have passed by and Bella was happy. After months of dancing around each other, she and M/N have begun dating. The transition from friends to something more felt natural, a gradual deepening of their connection. Bella couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so at ease, so genuinely content. However, her good mood soured when she entered the school parking lot and a familiar volvo greeted her.

Hands growing clammy, Bella turned off her engine and sat inside the truck for a minute—she didn’t know what to feel. If this was months ago, she wouldn’t have hesitated in walking towards them, but now only anger filled her veins. Why did they come back? What were their intentions? However, Bella couldn’t hide forever, so with a determined mind, she exited her truck. Feeling eyes on her, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and entered the school.

The day passed by in a blur, with Bella effectively avoiding the Cullens. She ignored Alice’s attempts to catch her eye in the hallway, quickly changing directions whenever she saw the petite vampire approaching. Edward’s gaze was harder to dodge, but Bella managed to keep her head down and her focus straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of even a glance. When school ended, Bella immediately walked out. Sprinting towards her truck, she wasn’t quick enough when the hair on her neck rose, alerting her that someone was behind her.

“Can we talk?” Edward whispered.

Bella froze, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. Slowly, she turned around to face him, her expression hardening. “There’s nothing to talk about.” she said, her voice steady.

“Please, Bella.” Edward pleaded, his eyes filled with regret. “I just need a few minutes.”

Debating with herself, Bella sighed before nodding. Edward broke into a smile, the vampire probably thinking she would jump into his arms once he said sorry, but he would be soon mistaken. “I know I hurt you, love, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my existence. But I still love you, Bella. Can’t we give each other another chance?”

“No. I’m with someone else.”

Edward's expression fell, the hope draining from his eyes. “Who?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Bella hesitated, then took a deep breath. “His name is M/N.” she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. At this, Edward knew he needed to get more information—see if Bella was serious with this boy or just trying to make him jealous.

“M/N.” he repeated, his voice neutral. “Tell me about him.”

“M/N is…he’s amazing.” Bella struggled to find a word that even began to describe M/N. “He’s kind, caring, and always there for me. He understands me in a way no one else ever has.”

Edward listened intently, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. “Bella, please.” He pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. “You can’t be serious about him. You deserve someone better. He can’t protect you like I can. He’s human, Bella. He’s fragile, and he can’t offer you what I can.”

Bella’s eyes flashed with defiance, her defenses rising. “M/N may be human, but he’s more than capable of taking care of himself.” she retorted, her voice firm. “And he doesn’t need to offer me protection, Edward. He offers me love, support, and understanding—things you couldn’t give me. You’re the one who made the mistake when you left me. And now, I’m choosing to move on with someone who actually cares about me.”

Edward’s eyes darkened with regret, but he refused to give up. “Bella, I love you.” he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. “I’ve always loved you. Can’t you see that my leaving was a sign of that?”

Bella didn’t answer the vampire, growing tired of his excuses and inability to accept her choice. Turning back to her truck, Bella opened the door and went inside. If Edward could leave her in the woods all those months ago, she could leave him in a parking lot. Turning the engine on, Bella drove towards Port Angeles. After all, she and M/N had a date planned to celebrate their two-month anniversary.

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