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sukuna’s garage was an absolute mess.

oil-stained rags on the floor, random tools and parts lying around, dirty hands on the verge of pulling out every strand of hair on his head. he had been working in the garage for hours at this point.

so why - why - was nothing working?

he did everything he could. replaced the fuel pump. cleaned the injectors. put in new spark plugs. tested every sensor. all for nothing. the car sounded like a dream in neutral, but every time he accelerated past 30 mph, the damned car stalled out.

just his luck that his car would start having problems the night before a big race.

that’s why he’s been sitting outside your shop for the past twenty-seven minutes debating on if he should swallow his pride or go home and hope he can figure it out himself. sukuna’s phone dinged. a text from uraume:

talk to her

she’s the only one who can help you

he didn’t even bother responding to that. he doesn’t need anyone telling him what to do. you’re the last person he’d ever need help from… but he’s running out of time and options. so what does he do?

sukuna stared at the sign above the shop. his eyes followed down to the flashing OPEN sign, of course you’d still be open this late at night. his fingers drummed against the steering wheel. he doesn’t want to deal with you...

“fuck it.” sukuna grumbled before going in.

the bell above the door twinkled as he opened it. the shop was quiet. there was always a sense of calm this time of night in your shop — like the quiet after a storm. all the power tools had been turned off and put to charge. a soft hum of the overhead fluorescent lights.

“guess hell finally froze over, huh?” a wicked smile on your lips as you approached the front desk. your coveralls were halfway on, tied around your waist. hair pulled back into a curly bun.

“fuck you.” but sukuna was eating the words he said only years prior. claimed he’d never need you. said hell would freeze over before he’d ever ask for your help. boy, was he starting to regret that now.

“yeah, i’m sure you’d like that.” your smile widens.

you had noticed him sitting outside the shop, it’s hard to not notice a car like sukuna’s. his car sounded like a purring tiger when in neutral. anyone who knew anything about cars or street racing knew that sound was unique to sukuna and only sukuna.

he was the king of underground racing for a reason.

he exhaled slowly out his nose, trying to keep his calm. “i’m not in the mood.”

“yeah, i can tell. you’re all pouty.” you nudged him.

“i need something fixed.”

“oh?” you could almost laugh at how reluctant he sounded. like he’d rather blow his car up than admit he needs you to fix something. “must be pretty bad if you came to see little ole me about it.”

choosing to ignore you, “it stalls out every time i go past thirty.”

“always thirty? not twenty-five? not forty?”

“thirty’s the limit before it stalls.”

“weird.”

sukuna rolls his eyes. “i know it’s weird, that’s why im here.”

“wasn’t talking to you.” you turned around to head to the back. “bring your car to the bay, i’ll check it out.”

he drove his car around and into the service bay. he shut off the engine and got out. he opened the hood for you and watched as you did an inspection of the engine. “you replace anything?”

“everything.”

“everything?”

“spark plugs, sensors, fuel pump, injectors, wiring, i even changed the oil.” he listed off. “don’t know what’s wrong the damn thing.”

“your problem is electrical, not mechanical.” you explained. “you fixed everything that could have been wrong mechanically, but if the car stalls at thirty every time, the problem is electrical. mechanical problems aren’t exact, electrical are.”

you think for a second. “you said you replaced the wiring?”

“yeah.”

“the wiring for what exactly?”

he shrugged. “a few lights, the ecu, the radio.”

“you mean my ecu? the same ecu i built?”

the ecu is the engine control unit. essentially, it’s the brain of the car. the sensors around the engine send information to the ecu, and the ecu decides to how to run the engine accordingly. without an ecu, a modern performance car can’t run.

that’s why you built your own. most of your customers are street racers, so you learned how to build a standalone ecu to replace the factory made ones without the limitations. think about it like this: if the manufactured ecu was a computer, it’d be limited to medium graphics. which isn’t bad for casual use, but for someone who needs speed and clear graphics, it’s better to upgrade. or in this case, build your own.

you built and programmed that ecu specifically for racing. so why in the hell would sukuna go messing around with it?

“it’s in my car, it’s mine.”

“like hell it is.” your eyebrows furrowed. “i only gave it to you to spite you. it has been absolutely bliss knowing that every victory you have is because of me.”

god, he hated you. so, so much.

sukuna hated that you were right. he built his own ecu years ago but it was nothing compared to yours. he couldn’t go back to it, despite you rubbing it in his face. “so what? you want me to thank you? to devote all of my wins to you?”

“i want you to not touch my shit.”

“fine, fuck! i won’t touch it.” he exhaled a deep breath, trying to keep the last of his sanity. “just fix the car.”

“you’ll owe me.”

“how much?”

“a favor.”

of course you would never let things be easy. “what’s the favor?”

“mmm… don’t know yet.” you shrugged. “i’ll think of something eventually.”

“i’d rather pay you.”

“i don’t want your money.”

“what do you want?”

that precious, wicked smile returned. “for now? i just get to enjoy knowing you owe me.”

“you are an evil, little woman.”

“don’t forget genius!” you say pushing him aside to start working on the car. hands deep in the hood as you started to carefully unplug and unattach the wires connected to the ecu. you noticed many things wrong with it: the replacement wires were not the right type, the wires were not attached properly, and the high-performance MAP was corrupted.

sukuna is an idiot.

“you’re an idiot.” you say. “it’s no wonder the car keeps stalling out, it’s not even wired in properly.”

“but you can fix it?”

“duh, i built it.”

you spent the next few hours fixing everything sukuna did wrong. you threw out the bad wires he bought and replaced them with the correct wiring. after ensuring the wires were in properly, you got started on the fun part. instead of trying to fix the high-performance MAP, you replaced it entirely, giving sukuna an complete upgrade.

the corrupted MAP was decoding the signals wrong. instead of accurately decoding the temperature and boost pressure, it believed the engine was overheating and to prevent damage, it shut itself off.

the upgrade came from the tuning. sukuna sat next to you, watching closely. he said he wanted to know what to do if this happened again but your face quickly shut that idea down.

under no circumstances was sukuna to ever touch your ecu again.

with your laptop connected to the ecu, you began tuning everything. faster throttle response and ignition timing, higher rev limiter, controlled boost pressure, upgraded fuel mixture. you upgraded everything and made this one better than the first.

you had finished sometime around 2am. you were tired but felt accomplished and successful. you had exceeded yourself. closing your laptop, “alright, it’s done.”

“that’s it?”

“wanna go for a test drive?”

sukuna didn’t need to be asked twice. he buckled up and backed out. he slowly increased his speed, keeping a careful eye on the rpm. 10… 20… 30… 40… 50.

you did it. he exceeded the 30mph limit and didn’t stall. in fact, he felt better. faster, smoother, more agile. he had no doubts about the race tomorrow. he was going to win.

he dropped you back off at the shop. watching you get out and head back inside without so much as a thank you or a goodbye. but even if he wouldn’t admit it, he was glad he came tonight.

there really is no replacement for you.

BONUS SCENE:

it had been six weeks since you fixed sukuna’s car. six weeks since he owed you a favor. he’d never admit it but it was driving him crazy. every time he got a call or text, he felt a sense of anguish that you were cashing in on your ridiculous favor.

he’s had enough.

it was a bit past midnight. the service bay garage door were open. he pulled his car in and got out. “cash it in.”

you wiped your hands on a rag. “am i supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

“the favor.” he said like you were oblivious. “cash it in.”

“i haven’t thought of anything yet.”

“so think.”

“but i like knowing that you owe me.”

“y/n.”

ooh, he’s getting increasingly irritated if he’s saying your name. let’s think… what’s the one thing sukuna hates most in this world? people, yes. but other than that? sappy, physical affection. it irks him beyond belief.

“you’ll do whatever i ask?”

he’s already suspicious. “within reason.”

you stand, holding your arms out wide. “give me a hug.”

he’s silent for a moment. not in shock, just processing that that’s your favor. he spent all this time stressed over… what, a damn hug? he wasn’t going to do it anyway, but it’s the principle. “no.”

“you said whatever i wanted.”

“i said within reason.”

“it is within reason.”

“i’m not doing it.”

“then you can live with the fact that you owe me for the rest of your life.”

he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look off your face. your little shimmy as you tried to entice him to come closer. you were dangling this favor over his head like a mistletoe. he just wanted to be done with you. reluctantly, “fine. i’ll do it.” he pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was bracing himself for the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life.

he took a few steps to close the gap between you. he watched your arms wiggle as you smiled up at him. it pained him to wrap his arms around your torso, hands lingering at your waist. it was stiff and uncomfortable and possibly the worst hug ever received.

could be a new guinness world record.

after a moment, he pulled away quickly, as if touching you would give him some rare, contagious disease. “never talk about this.”

“aw, and i thought we were having a sweet moment.”

“i hate you.”

“likewise, honey.”

in truth, you never had a favor in mind. you just wanted an excuse to see him again.

the drive home from the meet was probably the worst drive you’ve had in a while. you stopped at a local 24-hour convenience shop to buy some duct tape. you heavily taped the bumper back into place. the ride home felt so empty.

damn you, satoru gojo.

once you got home, all you wanted to do was sleep for hours and hours. the adrenaline rush from earlier kept you from realizing how late it truly was. it was almost 1am now.

while you were putting your phone on the charger, you realized you hadn’t saved sukuna’s number yet. you took out the ripped receipt from your pocket, typed in his number and saved his contact. you sent him a quick text just to confirm.

well that was a bust. a bit of enthusiasm wouldn’t kill him.

the next morning, you slept in a bit later than usual. it was late morning now, just barely before noon. you got up and started to get ready to meet sukuna.

oh wait. you don’t have his address.

of course he lives in shinjuku…

on your way to his house, you stopped at a local restaurant to get breakfast for the two of you. if he wasn’t going to accept your money, he should at least accept a free meal as payment. you got your usual and guessed what kind of food sukuna would like.

hope he’s not a picky eater.

the closer you got to his house, you felt more and more anticipation? nervousness? you had never seen sukuna in broad daylight before, just underneath the moonlight and street lights. what if he’s like a serial killer or something?

nah, he’d rather kill you in a race.

still following the gps, you turned down a quiet street in a neighborhood. a normal-looking neighborhood. you slowed down and drove to the end of the street. you’re here.

and there he was. garage door open, moving stuff around. he was dressed casually, not in the usual dark jeans and leather jacket you always see him in. just a black tank top and sweatpants. tattoos going down the sides of his arms. pink hair still ruffled. he looked like he just rolled out of bed.

you carefully backed into the garage, right next to his car. it looked different in the daylight. not as menacing but still magnetizing to look at.

“hi sukuna.” you say getting out.

a subtle nod as a greeting from him.

“i bought us breakfast.” you hold the bag up. “i wasn’t sure what kind of food you’d like, so i guessed.”

he takes the bag from your hands and looks inside. he doesn’t look disgusted by what you bought so you think you did well. “we can eat inside.” is all he says before heading towards the door, not even checking to see if you’re following behind him.

you take off your shoes at the door after entering. his home is modest and clean, but still sukuna in every way. black leather couch, tv hung on the wall, minimal decor, coat rack by the front door. his home looked like a comfy bachelor pad.

following him into the kitchen, sukuna took the food out the bag and placed it on the counter. he took the better looking one for himself. “sit.” he pointed to the stool across from him and slid your food towards you.

“you have a nice house.”

“i know.” he takes a bite of his food.

“most people would say thank you.”

“why would i thank you for stating the obvious?”

you could feel your eyes rolling before actually intending to. “because it’s polite.”

“right.”

your eyes wander around his kitchen. charcoal black cabinets, electric stove, stainless steel dishwasher, two-door refrigerator. then you noticed: he has drawings on the fridge. drawings made by a child.

“sukuna, you’re a dad?”

he nearly choked. “who the hell told you that?” he was nearly done with his food. you were barely halfway done with yours. you pointed at the fridge and he shook his head. “my nephew.”

“aww, that’s sweet.” who knew sukuna was softie underneath that terrible attitude and stone face?

“eat your food.” he finished up with his food and threw the containers away. “i’ll be in the garage.”

while finishing up your food, you took a closer look at the drawings on his fridge. random dinosaurs, a car that sort of resembled sukuna’s, and one closer to the bottom: a stick figure drawing of sukuna holding holds with a little boy. sukuna was drawn with an angry expression and spiky pink hair while the little boy was drawn with the same pink hair and a smile. in big, bright red letters at the top: me and uncle kuna!!

sukuna really is a softie.

when you finally joined sukuna in the garage, he was inspecting the bumper. “you put tape on it?” your affirmation made him tsk. “don’t do it again.”

you take it back. sukuna is still a jerk.

“sit over there.” sukuna pointed in a general direction, somewhere near the corner, as he began peeling off the many layers of tape. there was a regular sized stool and children’s chair. his nephew must spend time with him in the garage.

the garage smelt like motor oil, rubber, and something unique to sukuna. there were shelves lined on one wall holding various things: toolboxes, bolt-filled mugs, torque wrenches, a framed family picture, clean rags. on the other was two boards. a cork board with random receipts pinned to it and next to it was a white board with random measurements on it. in the bottom corner, a little messy note: yuji was here.

you sat in the stool. “who was that guy you came with to the meet last night?”

“why?”

you shrug. “just curious.”

“why?” still pulling the tape off, rolling it into a ball. “you into him or something?”

“what- no. my friend yuki is. i wanted to know if he’s someone i should warn her about.”

“nah he’s cool.” he says. “choso’s a bit weird but hes a good guy.” he thinks. “that blonde from the meet is your friend?”

“yeah, that’s yuki.” you smiled. “they got along well last night.”

“yeah he kept texting me about her. fucking annoying.”

he finished ripping the tape off and watched the bumper hang halfway off comically. he grabbed some tools to get the other side off and began working on it.

“sooooo, how exactly are you gonna fix my bumper?”

“oh god, you’re gonna talk the whole time?”

“well excuse me for wanting to know what you were doing.”

“i’m a mechanic, i know what i’m doing.”

that’s surprising. “you’re a mechanic? like you work at a shop?”

“obviously.” he rolled his eyes.

“obviously, i didn’t know.” you could feel your eye twitch. “i figured you made a lot from racing.”

“i don’t gamble my races.” he said. “it takes away the integrity of the competition.”

who would’ve knew sukuna cared so much about racing? you knew he had a lot of respect for the sport and he didn’t hide his distaste for those who were only in it for the adrenaline rush or cool points. what you didn’t know was that he cared about keeping the integrity of the sport.

“well if you ever change your mind, you could make a lot off it.”

“not interested.”

“then i guess you wouldn’t mind if i bet on you winning?”

“sure.” he shrugged. “whatever.”

he pulled the bumper off and placed it to the side. he slid underneath the car and began screwing something. “hand me that flashlight.” he pointed to the utility cart with a bunch of tools and bolts and whatever else was on it. you grabbed the flashlight and joined him under the car.

a please and thank you every now and then would be nice…

“what are you doing?”

“holding the flashlight for you.”

“i can hold it myself.” he tried to take it from you but you held it out further from him.

“you never answered my question earlier.”

sukuna let out a mix between a sigh and a huff of breath. “what?”

“how are you going to fix my bumper?”

“i’m going to take off the bracket it. fix it. attach it back to the frame. press the bumper back into place.” he spoke slowly, as if you were a child. “give me the damn flashlight.”

“no, i want to watch.”

“why can’t you just sit in the corner like i told you to?”

“because i want to know how to fix it. what if my bumper breaks again? i should know how to fix it.”

“if it breaks again, i’ll fix it.” he turned his head towards you. “if you have a problem with your car, i’ll fix it.”

“i still want to watch.”

“for fuck’s sake.” he rubbed his eyes in frustration. “fine, you can watch, just stay out my way.” he grabbed your arm to point the light right where he needed it. “hold the light still.”

and you did. you kept a steady hand pointed at the bracket. you watched him unscrew the bolts and screws one by one. your eyes drifted from the bracket to sukuna’s face. you’d never seen him this up close before. his pink hair spread out beneath his head, the wrinkles between his eyebrows, the sharp slope of his nose, the tattoos covering his face.

he’s quite attractive when he isn’t being a total jackass.

“quit staring at me.”

your eyes dart back to the bracket. “i’m not.”

“just keep the light still.” he says, even though your hands hadn’t moved from where he originally placed them. he finished unscrewing the last of the bolts and screws and slid from under the car. you followed behind him. he held the bracket in his lap, inspecting it.

“look,” he shows you the part where a bar was split in half. “that’s why the bumper wouldn’t stay on. i’ll weld it back together.” he doesn’t give you a chance to respond before going to the the side of the garage to weld it. “stay over there.”

despite wanting to see him weld it, you stayed where you were. he put on the welding hood and gloves. you watched the sparks fly from his face. he checked it to make sure it was sturdy before blowing on it. he walked back to where you were and slid under the car.

you got under with him and turned the flashlight back on. “hold this side.” he instructed. you held the right side of the bracket in one hand and the flashlight in the other. sukuna carefully screwed in the bolts on the left.

“do you want to screw it in?”

“can i?” your eyes practically lit up. he hadn’t let you do anything besides hold the flashlight up to this point.

“do it exactly how i did.” he traded the bolts and wrench in his hands for the flashlight.

despite your many mistakes, sukuna was surprisingly patient with you. “you have to put the washer first.” he watched you press it against the bracket. “on the bolt, dumb ass.” after calling him rude, he rolled his eyes but his tone was better. “no, screw it to the right. like this.” his free hand covered yours as he helped you screw in the bolt. “now do the rest.” he didn’t congratulate you for doing it right, just “that’s better.”

that’s high praise from king sukuna.

after getting the bracket back in place, sukuna pressed the bumper back into it. he did some adjustments but it was perfectly placed. you hadn’t even noticed that he managed to get the paint from gojo’s car out.

“y/n,” he called out to you. “where did you buy those taillights from?”

is he interested in getting mods like yours?

“i bought them online! there’s a bunch of them in other shapes too. are you going to get some for your car too?”

“no.” he almost looked disgusted at the suggestion. “send me the link so i can fix your taillight.”

“i can fix that myself, i installed them originally.”

“i already told you, i’ll fix whatever problem you have with your car.” he wiped his hands on a rag. “just send me the damn link.”

sukuna truly was a man of his word. he fixed your bumper and soon, he’ll fix your taillight too. but maybe, he just wanted an excuse to see you again.

part two for @pinkeepromise & @bebebutbetter as promised 🩷. i hope the texts didn’t ruin the vibe too much. thank you for all the sweet comments, you’re my sweet baby angel cakes!!!

what started out as a simple car meet quickly turned into an all-out impromptu race.

sigh, men and their egos.

your friend, yuki, actually told you about the meet. she’s not a racer herself, but she likes the rough type kind of guys so she’s usually at these meets.

finding any free space to park your honda s2000 was a hassle. the irony of racers being terrible at parking is hilarious to a fault. getting out and popping the hood to show off the real star of the show: four-cylinder turbo engine.

your car was fully modded out too: heart-shaped head and brake lights, pink wrap with decals over the original paint, shiny rims, bedazzled seatbelt covers, led lights underneath the frame. you didn’t believe in dimming your femininity just because you participated in a male-dominated sport.

you can like pink and racing!

you stood in front of the underside of the hood as you let the engine cool off, wiping off any debris and oil with a rag as yuki talked about hoping the real “rough” guys came out tonight. and speak of the devil, he shall appear. it was like the sea of cars had parted, stunned silence taking over the street. for him, and only him.

sukuna, the king of underground racing.

it was like watching a king make his way down an aisle and everyone else can only bow or stand still in amazement.

sukuna’s car was one of kind. mitsubishi 3000 gt. deep red paint with a large tiger decal on the sides. spinning rims. all black leather interior. his car was as egotistical as he was.

you watched him climb out the driver seat with the same perpetual glare that’s permanently stuck onto his face, hardly acknowledging the other racers with little more than a nod. yuki has her eyes on the guy getting out of the passenger seat. “see! now that’s the rough type.”

since when was spiky pigtails declared “rough”?

“trust me, if he’s hanging out with sukuna, he’s trouble.”

“you don’t know that.” her eyebrows furrowed.

“yuki, look at him.” you nod in the direction of sukuna. “tell me you don’t see trouble in his eyes. besides, car meets are not the right place to find love.”

“a girl can try.” and try she did. just a blonde head weaving through cars, passed sukuna, and made her way into the arms of pigtails. he looked surprised, and maybe a bit shy, but they seemed to be getting along well.

maybe she was right?

sukuna’s eyes skimmed the lineup of cars around him, before stopping on yours. recognition flashed in his eyes for a brief second: the pink monstrosity. then, that familiar smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

the meet was calm at first. everyone getting along, pictures being taken, trading numbers and cards. a real community being built. until the arrival of satoru gojo.

yes, that satoru gojo. the heir to the conglomerate car dealership company, gojo automotive group. his family owned nearly every big dealership in the country. he was worth billions in yen and chose to spend his free time racing in streets he can afford to buy. he always arrived late, he liked the attention it gave him.

getting out of his stingray-colored c8 corvette, he embraced the crowd. the cheers and applause were lightening in his veins. he had a natural magnetizing aura that pulled people towards him. he made his way to the center of the meet and saw sukuna leaning on his car.

oh boy.

now it was gojo’s turn to clap. sarcastic and loud. “ladies and gentlemen, the king is here! i guess i should bow in his presence.” sukuna ignores him but gojo can’t help but to keep prodding.

“what’s with the attitude? i thought kings were supposed to acknowledge their subjects.”

“thought rich kids were supposed to stay at the country club.”

the crowd “oooh”s and “burnnn” at the remark. sukuna doesn’t care but it stings gojo a bit. so what if he’s rich? he’s earned his right to be here.

“don’t be jealous.”

“of what, daddy’s wallet?” sukuna mocks. “i’m surprised you even showed up. heard you blew all your money on a new toy.”

“you think you’re so much better because built your car.”

“i know i am.” sukuna pokes at gojo’s chest. “cause that’s what real racers do. you’re just a poser playing dress up.”

gojo shoved his finger off his chest, “like you’d know what a real racer is. you only race people you know you can beat.”

“i never turn down a challenge.”

“so race me.” gojo smiles wickedly. “for your car.”

the crowd became eerily silent. it felt as if a creepy breeze washed over the crowd and scared them into being still. everyone knew the pride sukuna had for his car. he transformed the old, second hand car into the beast it is today. he gave it a whole new life, and he wasn’t going let anyone take that way. especially not some rich boy who doesn’t even belong on the streets.

“you’re on.”

with that, the crowd immediately knew what to do. cars moved, rearranged to give space to the racing five. this would be race that would be talked about for years to come.

though the real race was between gojo and sukuna, its standard to have five racers. so, geto, gojo, sukuna, and some random from the crowd make four. they need a fifth to actually start.

“anyone willing to join the race?”

despite their differences, gojo and sukuna were quite similar in ideas. they both looked at you. “come race with us, sweets.” gojo calls out. “i’m sure you want a rematch, don’t you?”

“sorry boys, i’m not interested in joining your pissing match.”

“we need a fifth and you’re the only one actually capable of keeping up.” sukuna speaks up this time. that was almost a compliment.

“i didn’t come to race. just came to show off my engine.”

“what better way to show it off than in a race?”

damn it. an angel loses its wings every time a man makes a good point.

and that’s how you ended up here: at a makeshift starting line, roaring your engine. the crowd was taking bets on who would win. some had went ahead to clear out the street ahead so the race could take place. now, you were just waiting for the all clear.

“hey, pink-mobile.” sukuna calls out to you from his car. does he even know your name? “don’t embarrass me.”

what the fuck is he talking about? the confused look on your face prompts him to further explain. “if you’re gonna lose, don’t lose to some poser like gojo.” then he rolls his window back up.

whatever that means…

“alright, the race is about to begin.” the flag person announced. “racers, you’ll race to the bridge about a mile ahead, turn around at the end of the bridge, and come back. first to cross the line wins.”

the crowd stepped back. the flag person held both arms up high above their head. “on your mark.” engines began to roar. “get set.” all eyes on the hands. “go!” the flag person dropped their arms and the cars took off.

it was a straight shot ahead. at first, it seemed everyone was pretty neck and neck with each other. then suddenly, satoru gojo’s corvette took the lead and then some. speeding past the entire competition.

“amateur.” sukuna couldn’t help but say to himself.

satoru gojo had used NOS to gain a lead on the competition. it wowed the crowd to see him speed off, but it was way too early in the race to use the boost. he’d know that if he actually understood the sport, but to him, racing is just a performance.

picking up speed around the halfway mark, you followed closely behind sukuna. geto and the other were lost causes. you were almost confident that this was their first race. gojo was still barreling ahead.

onto the bridge now, you floored it. finally taking head of sukuna, but gojo was at the turn around mark now. he wasn’t slowing down enough. catching up, you drifted around the turn around mark and passed gojo. but not without a cost. gojo overcommitted and hadn’t slowed down enough to drift properly, when he turned around, he tried to force his way inside but instead, the front of his corvette hit the back of your car.

“you idiot!” but your words fell on deaf ears. checking your rear view, you can see your bumper halfway hanging off, sparks following behind you. luckily, you were already unwinding the steering wheel when the impact came, keeping you from spinning out. but with the bumper half hanging off, there’s only two choices:

1. keep your foot floored and risk the bumper flying off completely. or,

2. lift off the pedal slightly to keep the car in control.

either way, top speed wasn’t an option anymore.

watching the entire scene, sukuna saw the impact. gojo finally slowed down due to hitting you, giving sukuna the opportunity the pass by both of you. gojo’s nitro boost was short lived and even with the excess drag, he still couldn’t catch you.

racing back to the starting line, sukuna took the lead. you tried to close the gap as much as possible, but the extra drag wasn’t doing any favors. sukuna crossed just mere seconds before you. cheers from the crowd erupted.

immediately getting out and walking to the back of your car to inspect the damage. the bumper is still hanging crooked, the bottom part that was scraping against the pavement was still hot and burnt at the ends. the left taillight was broken in. the stingray colored paint from gojo’s corvette scraped off onto the wrap.

“woah, what happened?” yuki’s shocked at the damage. yeah accidents happen, but gojo was being reckless.

“that idiot gojo can’t drift.” you crouched in front of the bumper, trying to get it back in place but to no avail, it would just fall back down.

“well, at least i won us some money.” yuki tried to spin it on a good note.

“you bet on me?”

“no, i bet that you would beat gojo.” she takes out the wad of yen from her purse. “163,000 yen! we can split it so you can fix your car.”

“thanks yuki.”

you hadn’t even noticed gojo and the others had crossed over the line already. sukuna and gojo were still butting heads. gojo’s a sore loser and sukuna can’t even accept that he won.

men and their egos.

your eyes fell back to your bumper. “my poor baby.” you sighed. sukuna overheard your words of despair. he glanced at the car, then you crouching next to it, and just for a short second he gets it. he walks over and kneels next to you. he presses on the broken side, looks underneath it. “the bracket’s snapped.”

you sighed, “yeah, i figured.”

“bring it by tomorrow.” you looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes. “i’ll fix it.”

“why?” is all you could say because sukuna doesn’t do anything from kindness. he doesn’t even explain himself, he just stands and dusts off his pants before reaching into his pocket. he takes out a pen and rips a spare piece of paper. a receipt of some kind? he writes something then hands it to you.

“text me and i’ll send you my address.” he starts to walk away but pauses. “y/n.”

oh, does know your name.

“i mean it.”

every year, phi beta phi holds their annual beach party. it’s open to all members of greek life.

the beach is divided into invisible territories: rows of tents with the matching fraternity/sorority flag staked into the sand. coolers overflowing with beer and ice. beach chairs with umbrellas littering the sand. bikinis and washboard abs every way you turn. the ocean glittering with sunlight.

“just think about it man,” gojo practically begs. “a water slide would be a total upgrade for the pool parties.”

“no, satoru.” geto deadpans, pulling his luscious locks into a man bun.

“why not?” gojo frowns, almost resembling a kicked puppy. almost.

“we’re not buying a thirty foot inflatable water slide just because you want one.”

“you won’t let me have anything! first, i couldn’t have my mechanical bull, then i couldn’t get jet skis, and now you won’t let me have a water slide?” gojo whined. “what good is being president if i don’t get any perks?”

“you won’t be president if i have to explain why someone broke their neck for your entertainment to the dean.”

the rest of gojo’s whining and complaints about “unfairness” and “being treated like a child” is tuned out when geto sees shoko walking near the shore with a friend, laughing.

“yo satoru,” geto turns gojo’s head in the direction of shoko, “who’s that walking with shoko?”

gojo slides his circular sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and squints. “no idea… maybe she’s one of her sorority sisters?”

“no way, shoko hates those girls.”

meanwhile geto contemplates who you are and where you came from, you continue your walk on the shoreline. feeling the cool water push against your feet, washing away the sand, before pulling away again.

“i’m serious, shoko,” you laugh. “you should’ve seen the professor’s face when he realized he put up the slide show his wife made instead of the microscope pictures.”

shoko takes a puff of her cigarette. “i really should stop skipping lecture days.”

“you know, that’s like your third one?”

“fourth, actually.”

“i thought you were taking a break.”

she hums in disagreement. “i said i’ll take a break soon. not today, but soon.”

before you could reply to her ridiculous statement, someone shouts her name from one of the frat tents and waves her over. she sighs once she sees who it is. “give me a second.”

walking over to the phi beta phi tent, geto steps aside to make space for her comfortably. “what?” she asks.

“yeah, hello to you too.” geto rolls his eyes. “who’s your friend?”

“why?”

“i want you to introduce me.”

before shoko could even laugh in his face, gojo interrupts. “shoko, don’t you think the frat needs a water slide?”

“why do you think i care?” she turns back to geto. “and no, im not introducing you to her.”

“why not?” now it’s geto’s turn to whine, though he doesn’t sound as pathetic as gojo.

“because every time you ask me to introduce you to someone, i end up having to apologize on your behalf.” shoko stubs out her cigarette on a cooler lid. “i like her and im not gonna let you ruin it.”

“cmon shoko, i’ll buy your cigarettes.” geto bargains. “i’ll even buy you that expensive sake you like.”

it was almost as if the word “sake” had flipped a switch in her brain. “the good one?” she raised one eyebrow.

he nodded. “whatever brand you want.”

shoko pretended to think it over but she was already sold. cigarettes and expensive sake? she’d rob a bank for that. “alright fine. one conversation… and don’t be weird.”

“i could kiss you.”

“gross.”

they leave gojo behind at the tent and make their way back over to you at the shoreline. “y/n, this is suguru geto, one of phi’s top five idiots.”

jeez, some introduction.

you chuckled at shoko’s bluntness. “hi, nice to meet you.” you held your hand out for him to shake.

he gently shook your hand, a charming smile on his lips. “the pleasure is mine.” he takes a moment to admire you up close now: tanned, brown skin, doe eyes, shining gold jewelry, supple breasts, slim legs. he drags his eyes back up to your face. “the frat is having a bonfire tonight. it’s invite only.”

“is that your subtle way of saying i’m not invited?”

“it’s my subtle way of saying i hope you come.” still holding your hand.

someone from the phi tent calls out to him this time. something about missing permits? he closes his eyes in frustration and sighs. he clasps his other hand over you and gives it one final shake before letting go. “you should come, it’ll be fun.”

• • • • • • • • • •

the bonfire was honestly not what you expected. you thought you’d be walking in to a full on frat party with makeouts happening in every corner. but reality was much different: it was intimate. a small group of guests (besides the brothers of the frat), mostly everyone in the backyard toasting marshmallows for s’mores, a few drinks lying around, and soft music playing in the background.

suguru had been keeping a close eye on the door. every time he came back inside the house to fix another issue gojo so happily put off onto him, he checked to see if you had made it there yet.

despite texting shoko to ask if you decided to come, she stopped responding to his texts.

when you finally did arrive, it was like a small weight came off his chest. an easy smile made his way to his lips. “you came.”

“hi, geto”

his smile falters for a second at the formal greeting, but he smoothly recovers. “call me suguru, please.”

“i’m getting a drink.” a shoko leaves you to yourselves.

“cmon, everyone is in the back.” he places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you through the house to the backyard. “want a s’more?”

you couldn’t help but giggle at the offer. “you’re making s’mores?”

“of course, it’s a bonfire. it’s practically bad luck not to.” he leads you over to the seats he saved for you. close enough to feel the warmth from the fire but not too close to feel crowded by anyone. he hands you stick to put your marshmallow on, then grabs one for himself.

“so… how do you know shoko?”

“we’re lab partners.” you twirl your marshmallow into the fire.

“you’re pre-med too?”

“no, i’m a bio major.”

“a science major?” he says. “must mean you’re pretty smart. you should tutor me sometime.”

“right… because you need tutoring?”

“if a beautiful and smart woman like yourself is offering, who am i to object?”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. “very smooth.” you assemble your s’more and take a bite into it. it’s warm and gooey and felt nostalgic. a bit of the marshmallow stretched out and stuck to your chin. suguru carefully wiped it away with his thumb. he looks up from where the mess once was on your chin to your eyes, still gently rubbing the former mess away.

“geto, the freezer is broken again.”

“for fuck’s sake.” he mumbles. “just use the deep freezer in the basement.”

“the basement gives me the creeps at night.”

the frustration? irritation? annoyance? look on his face perfectly matched his earlier expression at the beach.

he stood up, “i’ll be right back, promise. want me to bring you back a drink?”

“sure.”

and as the night went on, you continued to talk to suguru, whenever he wasn’t being sent off to handle every minor crisis in the frat house. he was different than you thought. sure, he was frat boy through and through, but he was also sweet and thoughtful. he was charming, but not too overly flirty. he actually listened when you talked about classes, hobbies, and the things you liked.

“suguru! we’re playing suck and blow, cmon!” gojo yelled from inside the house. “hurry up and get inside.”

“give me a sec!” he combed his fingers through his hair. it was styled differently than at the beach, now in his signature half up half down. “wanna play?”

“doesn’t sound like the kind of game i’d play.”

“it’s not bad. just one round with me and then we can come back out here.” and if that wasn’t convincing enough, he gently held your hands in his, “please?”

“one round.”

he leads you back inside where a few people were gathered around the beer pong table. “it’s easy. we’ll pass a card around the table and you have to suck in the air to keep the card on your lips and blow when you have to pass it. but if you drop the card, you have to kiss the person you were supposed to pass it to.”

“and this is fun?”

“yeah, mostly.”

and the round begins, starting with satoru gojo of course. you carefully watch as the card gets passed around the table. no one has dropped it yet. a slight feeling of nervousness and anticipation started bubble in your stomach the closer you watched the card gets to you. you were standing next suguru. what if he dropped the card? would you have to kiss him?

suguru successfully took the card from the woman on his left, but when turned to his right to face you, the card “slipped”. he wasted no time pressing his lips into yours. his lips were soft and still faintly tasted of the chocolate from the earlier s’mores. his kept one hand on your waist and the other at the back of your head to deepen the kiss. not a hungry, passion-driven kiss, but something more than just a quick peck on the lips.

when he finally pulled away, his charming smirk was on full display. “whoops, guess we lost.” he laughed before grabbing your hand to lead you back outside again.

“you did that on purpose.”

“what? no, no. it slipped.”

“if you wanted me to kiss me, you didn’t have to drag me into a stupid game.”

“you would have let me kiss you?”

“maybe.” you teased.

“how about tomorrow we have lunch at that cafe you said you liked and i’ll try to be worthy of a kiss then.”

so sly.

july 3rd.

nanami kento was born on this day.

and you are absolutely determined to make it the best day. no over time. no stress.

you woke up early to make his favorite breakfast, plus your infamous homemade croissants that he loves so dearly. serving him breakfast in bed with a sweet smile on your lips.

“happy birthday, honey.”

“thank you, sweetheart, but i told you not to make a big deal out of it.” he kisses your head as he gracefully places the tray on his lap.

“can’t i just be a good wife who enjoys cooking for her husband?”

he eyes you slyly, mid bite. “you’re a sneaky wife.”

a faux gasp escapes you. “i am not sneaky! i am kind and loving and trustworthy and—”

“and sneaky.” he chuckles. “i know you well, love. i know when you’re up to something.”

“well… would you still think of me as sneaky if i presented you with a gift?” you wiggly your eyebrows.

a much heartier laugh erupts from him now. “are you seriously bribing me with my own gift?”

“no! of course not. don’t be silly. i’d never do such a thing.” as you creep your way to the closet to retrieve his gift. you had hidden it in a shoe box at the back of the closet. not that he’d be looking for it, but you didn’t want to ruin the surprise.

you keep the small gift bag hidden behind your back as you approach him on the bed. “before i give you your gift, promise me that even if you hate it, you’ll tell me that you love it.”

“i will love and cherish any gift you give me.” he places the tray on the nightstand and sits up a bit more straight. “i promise.”

you carefully hand him the small black bag. there’s no label… suspicious. he reaches inside and pulls out a small, black velvet box. he glances over at you once more before carefully opening it. inside: a vintage 18k white gold diamond emerald rolex watch.

the same vintage rolex he spent months looking for online. the same vintage rolex he lost to bidders in online auctions. the same vintage rolex he could never buy from private sellers.

he seemed to be at a lost for words. “how-how did you…?”

“i bought it off some old guy.” you shrug. “i thought it’d look nice with the rest of your collection.”

“sweetheart, you have no idea what this means to me.” if you squinted, you could almost see a little tear forming in the corner of his eyes. almost.

he pulled you into his lap and cradled you into his chest. “i love you so much. i love the watch. i love you. you’re the best thing i’ve ever had in my life.” he presses gentle, plentiful kisses over your face, neck, chest, hands, anywhere he could reach.

“im glad you like your gift.” you kiss his forehead. “but the day has only just begun and i have so much planned for us. so get ready for your ultimate, awesome day of birthday fun, presented by yours truly.” you dramatically bow at your performance.

••••••• ••••••• •••••••

a spa treatment (plus massage!), a movie, and a trip to kento’s favorite bakery for lunch should have been enough time for the the surprise party to be set up.

you left shoko in charge (terrible mistake). you had already bought all the needed decorations and carefully hid the cake in the back of the fridge. all they had to do was put up the decorations and pick up the food you ordered.

sounds simple, right?

wrong.

shoko sat at the table barking orders at the boys, smoking.

gojo and geto were in charge of putting up the decorations, as they were the tallest. somehow in the midst of their arguing, the banner ripped, they taped it, hung it crooked, and high fived each other in accomplishment.

ino was in charge of picking up the food, but grabbed the wrong containers and had to return to the restaurant.

haibara, sweet haibara, was an angel. he carefully set up the cake on the pedestal, prepped the lighter and candles, placed all the gifts on a table, and made sure everyone signed the birthday card.

it was nothing short of a miracle that everything was set by the time you two arrived home.

laughing and holding hands as you two walked up the path to your front door. hushed whispers were softly yelled just beyond the door as kento unlocked it.

a chorus of “SURPRISE!” rang through the house with confetti cannons being shot.

kento could feel the impeding headache that he was sure to have. a crooked banner, confetti everywhere, gojo’s irritating smile.

“nanami!” gojo pushes past you to wrap an arm around kento’s shoulders. “aren’t you so happy to see us?”

“ecstatic.” he deadpanned.

“come open my gift, it’s the best one!” gojo exclaims as he drags kento over to the table of gifts, giving no personal space while doing so.

“novelty socks…”

“with my face on it! so i’ll always be with you.”

“because that’s exactly what i want…”

kento continues to open up his gifts. some better than others. a tie from ino, a coffee machine from shoko, classic novel from geto, and gift cards to his favorite bakery from haibara. but most special of all was the sweet, personal messages left in the birthday card.

those, he’ll cherish forever.

everyone caught up after the opening of presents. sat, ate dinner, joked around, listened to gojo’s awful singing because he insisted on serenading nanami.

before the night ended, because shoko was drunk, ino was in a food coma, and gojo kept asking about cake, they all sung happy birthday and cut the cake.

though, while it was his special day, kento couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you looked in the yellow candlelight. such a beauty planned this day for him. such a beauty sang with such love in her eyes. what a beauty you are.

after the candles were blown out, gojo took the first slice and second before the lights were even back on. every one got their share too.

“ken, honey, you don’t want cake?”

“no, i want to eat something else.”

everyone left soon after that. gojo dropped an envelope on the counter as he made his way out, still bragging about how good his gift was. inside: two tickets for an all expenses paid for vacation to malaysia for two weeks. a little note too: take a break you salaryman. happy birthday.

the house become quiet again. for a moment, it was still.

but the only thing he wanted more than that trip to malaysia?

you.

it all started with a text from shoko.

hey, wanna get drinks tonight?

i’ll buy your first round ;)

you thought it would be a fun night. you needed a girls night out with shoko.

what you didn’t need was 7 shots and 3 drinks.

“shokoooo,” you hugged her affectionately, drunkenly. “you’re my best friend. what would i do without you?” rubbing your head onto her shoulder.

“you’d probably be sober.” she says dryly, patting your head.

the song changes. it’s your song. this is your jam.

“THIS IS MY JAM!” you shout over the music. “let’s dance sho!”

“i don’t dance.”

“BUZZKILL!” you shout, again, on your way to the dance floor.

pop, locking, and dropping all over the dance floor. getting lost in the sea of bodies, dancing, grinding, shouting singing.

“yeah… she’s done for the night.” shoko says to herself as she watches you dance.

she scrolls through your call log to your most recent: kentooo 🩵 and dials.

“hello? y/n?” he says in that usual overworked and tired voice.

“no, it’s me.” she pulls a cigarette out of her purse.

“hey, ieiri. is y/n okay?”

“uhh…” she glances back over to you on the dance floor, stumbling into others while crashing dancing. “she’s having fun… for the most part. look, we went out for drinks and she’s a lightweight so she’s drunk now. i need you to pick her up.”

“you got her drunk?” she could practically see him rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“she got herself drunk. i told her to slow down but she wanted to keep up with me.” she lights the cigarette. the bartender points to the “no smoking allowed” sign but she waves him off.

“i’ll come get you both. send me the address.” kento hangs up after adding, “keep an eye on her.”

and nanami was true to his word. it took him maybe twenty minutes to get to the bar and finding you was easy. your undeniable voice, “shoko look!”, could’ve only been you. you were pointing at something on your heels when he approached you two at the bar.

“evening, ladies.” he said loosening his tie.

“kento! you came!” your head snapped up and you wrapped your arms around his torso, so much drunken affection, and you just as quickly pulled away. “you want a drink? i’ll buy a round for us!”

“i think you’ve had enough to drink, yeah?”

“nuh uh, i’m-i’m not even drunk.” a perfect time to stumble while standing upright. “i’m a heavy weight like shoko!”

shoko shakes her head and mouths “no” to nanami.

traitor.

“right, sure you are, let’s get you both home.”

shoko grumbled but followed along anyway, mumbling something about wanting more drinks and needing another cigarette.

nanami dropped shoko home first since her apartment was closest to the bar. he watched her head instead before driving off. he intended to take you to your place but after too many drinks and a nasty pothole, you vomited outside the door of the car, getting a bit of it on your dress.

you desperately a needed a bath after that and his place was closer than yours so he just took you home with him.

yeah, that’s why.

definitely not because he wanted to take care of you.

after parking, he carried you bridal style inside and sat you on the couch, listening to your numerous apologies about throwing up in his car as he took off your heels.

“i told you, it’s fine. i’ll get it cleaned tomorrow.” he stands up. “i’ll run you a bath, stay here.”

after a few moments, the sound of running water and drawers opening and closing echo through the apartment. he comes back and holds his hands out for you to take and leads you to the bathroom.

“i don’t really have any clothes that would fit you so i hope this old t-shirt and sweats fit.” he points to the clothes on the sink counter. “take as long as you need, i’ll just be in the living room if you need me.”

“wait kento.”

“yes?”

“i’m really sorry about throwing up.”

“i know.”

“i know im not really in a place to ask you of anything, but i don’t think i can take this stupid dress off.”

he walks back over and carefully helps you undress and get into the bath tub. he gave you one last glance over before closing the door behind him.

the bath felt nice. really nice. all warm and bubbly and clean. best bath ever.

after drying off and changing into kento’s clothes, you stepped out of the bathroom and into his attached bedroom. kento was making the bed for you.

“had a good bath?”

“the best.”

he helped you into bed and gave you a glass of water to sip on. carefully wrapped your hair into a bonnet that he definitely didn’t buy in case you ever slept over. he tucked you in and made sure you had anything you needed.

“kento?” you call out to him softly.

“yes?”

“earlier, did you peek?” you gestured broadly to your chest.

“no, i wouldn’t do that.”

“really?”

“really.”

“you’re such a sweet guy. i think you deserve a peek sometime. at least once.”

he can’t help but chuckle at that. “thanks, i’ll remember that.”

“hey, you smiled. i’m funny.”

“indeed you are, but for now, try to get some rest.”

you frown. “okay.”

“good night, beautiful.” he kissed your forehead before turning off the lamp and closing the door.

he slept on the couch but oh does he wish to share a bed with you one day.