rockstar!sukuna x pop star!reader
a/n: this chapter is kinda slow but I’ll make it up ;)
3 weeks and 5 days until deadline.
Henry lands on your face like your beauty sleep didn’t matter.
You jolt awake with a strangled sound. One hand immediately coming up to shove warm fur out of your nose and mouth while the little menace has the audacity to just stand there on your chest like he didn’t almost send you into cardiac arrest before nine in the morning.
“Get off,” you mumble, your voice rough with sleep. Henry blinks at you then meows like you’re the problem.
You squint at him for a second before letting your head fall back into the pillow with a groan. One arm thrown over your face as if that’ll somehow undo the fact that you’re awake now.
Absolutely beautiful start to the day. You peel yourself out of bed a minute later with all the grace of a dying Victorian child and drag your feet across the floor. Henry trotting behind you like this was a joint decision the whole time.
The house is still quiet in that soft, half-asleep way that makes everything feel slower. Sunlight shines across the kitchen floor in pale strips through the windows. Warming the counters just enough to make it feel cozy in a way you can appreciate once you’re not half dead. And for a perfect place for Henry to tan.
Your first priority: caffeine.
You start the coffee maker as your life depended on it, then immediately go for the freezer and fish out a box of waffles. A breakfast of champions or, at the very least, a breakfast of someone with zero intention of pretending they have their life together before noon.
You pop two into the toaster and lean back against the counter, staring at it while it works like you personally hand-crafted the meal yourself.
“Wow,” you murmur to Henry, who’s now weaving around your ankles like he hasn’t eaten in a decade. “Chef Ramsey would be so proud.”
Henry meows again. You know he meant that meow in a judgmental way.
You narrow your eyes at him. “You live here for free.”
The phone buzzing against the counter cuts through the quiet before he can offer a rebuttal.
Shoko’s face appears first, all sharp eyes and perfectly uninterested expression, while Dominic’s camera angle is absolutely horrific as usual. Mostly his forehead, one eye, and what looks like a ceiling fan.
“Good morning, ugly,” Dominic says immediately.
You deadpan. “Fix that blurry camera before you start speaking to me.”
There’s a muffled curse, some aggressive swiping, and then his whole face finally appears. “There. Better?”
Shoko snorts softly. “You sound pleasant.”
“Henry woke me up by suffocating me.”
Dominic gasps dramatically. “He was trying to put you out of your misery.”
“Ugh why couldn’t he finish the job,” you mutter, turning back to the toaster just as it pops.
You grab your waffles, set them on a plate, and reach for the syrup while Dominic launches into some random story that sounds like it started in the middle and somehow gets worse every time he adds details.
Something about a guy, a parking lot, and an iced coffee that apparently “didn’t have to go out like that.”
You’re only half listening, mostly because Shoko keeps cutting in to correct him every five seconds, which somehow makes the story even funnier.
It’s stupid. Completely unserious. Honestly, that’s exactly what you needed.
You pour your coffee, grab your plate, and move toward the island. Phone still propped up as you settle onto one of the stools. The conversation bounces around the way it always does when none of you have anything important to say but still end up on the phone anyway.
Dominic starts talking about some place he passed yesterday that apparently had “life changing” ramen.
Shoko immediately calls bullshit. You’re midway through drowning your waffles in syrup. Making sure there was some in each square. Dominic squints at the screen.
“Wait, have y’all eaten there before?”
He turns the phone to show absolutely nothing useful but a blurry street sign and the inside of his car roof.
“That ramen place by the shopping center. The one near the train station.”
Shoko narrows her eyes. “That tells us nothing.”
“Where the weird sketchy furniture store used to be,” he says impatiently.
The conversation fully derails into food. Which is probably how it was always going to end.
“Okay but now I want ramen,” you say, stabbing off a piece of waffle with your fork.
“See?” Dominic points at the screen like he’s won something. “Visionary.”
Shoko rolls her eyes. “That is not what that word means.”
“Whatever. Let’s go get something later.”
You glance down at your plate, then back at the phone. “Like… today?”
“Obviously today,” Dominic says. “Why would I mean next Thursday?”
You ignore him. He has a point, the idea of leaving the house for something that isn’t work or obligation sounds… nice, actually.
Shoko shrugs from her side of the screen. “I’m down.”
You hum taking another sip of coffee. “Okay. Yeah. Text me when.”
Dominic leans closer to the camera dramatically. “Wow. Look at us. Maintaining friendship.”
“Don’t ruin it,” Shoko says flatly.
You laugh quietly into your coffee. You don’t end up leaving the house until a little after one.
Not because getting ready takes forever or anything dramatic, but because by the time you finally peel yourself off the couch and stop scrolling long enough to actually move. The day has already slipped past lazy and into okay.
I need to at least look presentable
Its nothing crazy, just something casual and comfortable. Something easy enough to throw on without thinking too hard about it. A fitted tank, oversized zip-up, loose jeans, sneakers. Enough to look put together without giving the impression that you actually put effort into it.
You meet Shoko and Dominic outside the ramen place. The sign above the restaurant glows a soft red, and the second you step inside, heat wraps around you almost instantly. It carries that rich, savory smell of broth and garlic that makes your stomach tighten in anticipation.
The hostess hands over menus and starts leading the three of you deeper into the restaurant, but you barely glance down at yours before already knowing.
“Tonkotsu,” you say flipping the menu closed.
Dominic looks over immediately. “Damn. That fast?”
You shrug, not even a little apologetic “A girl knows what she likes.”
Shoko hums in approval beside you. “As she should.”
Dominic squints down at his menu like it personally offended him. “Okay but what if I don’t know what I like?”
You snort. “Then that sounds like a you problem.”
He glares at you while the hostess leads you over to a booth tucked near the back wall. You slide in first, and like always, Shoko and Dominic end up sitting directly across from you. Their drinks getting set down while they’re still bickering over whether Dominic is “adventurous” or just “chronically incapable of making decisions.”
You already know the answer. It’s the second one. Once the waitress takes your order and walks off, Dominic immediately leans forward against the table with the exact expression he gets whenever he’s about to say something ridiculous.
“Okay,” he says, lowering his voice just enough to make it clear he thinks this is serious. “I need y’all to be honest.”
You narrow your eyes. “That’s already a bad start.”
Shoko reaches for her straw. “Go ahead.”
Dominic glances between the two of you like he’s about to confess to murder.
“So I met this guy last weekend.”
You blink once. “At the club?”
Shoko raises a brow. “Already hate where this is going.”
“No listen,” Dominic says, holding up a hand. “Because he was really cute.”
“Like annoyingly cute,” he continues. “Like face? Sat on. Smile? Dangerous. Arms? Delicious.”
You choke on your drink a little. Shoko looks disgustingly entertained.
“But,” Dominic says, dropping his voice again, “he was also… weird.”
Dominic makes a face. “Like spiritually weird.”
Shoko immediately starts laughing.
You just blink at him. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Like he kept saying things that made me feel like he would write me name on a piece a paper and put it under his pillow to sleep on.”
You laugh leaning back against the booth while Shoko fully covers her mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking.
“No because I’m serious,” Dominic insists sarcastically offended by your joy. “He was talking about energy and vibrations and how people can feel when they’ve known each other in past lives.”
“Oh brother,” you mutter.
“I think that’s a fancier way of trying to get into someone’s pants.” Shoko adds.
“And here’s my question,” he says, pointing at the table like he’s building toward something important. “If someone is super cute but weird in a way that makes you feel mildly unsafe… is it still valid to be sexually attracted to them?”
You and Shoko both just look at him. For a full two seconds.
“Dom, what the fuck are you talking about?”
You burst out laughing. Dominic immediately starts defending himself while trying not to laugh too.
“No, because answer me honestly!”
“Honestly?” you say, wiping under your eye. “I think you need to raise your standards.”
“No,” he says, pointing at you. “That’s not what I asked.”
Shoko finally chimes in, calm as ever. “Yes, it’s valid. It’s also stupid.”
Dominic gasps dramatically. “Thank you. See? That’s all I needed.”
“No,” she says, taking a sip of her drink. “What you needed was therapy.”
You nearly laugh yourself into a coughing fit. The conversation keeps flowing.
Your food comes out around fifteen minutes later, the whole table quiets down for a second just at the sight of it. Bowls settle in front of each of you one by one, steam curling up into the air in soft waves.
Your tonkotsu lands in front of you and you swear the smell alone almost fixes your entire mood on the spot.
“Oh my god,” Dominic says under his breath, already reaching for his chopsticks like he’s about to have a foodgasm.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you mutter, leaning forward.
For a little while, conversation gets broken up by actual eating. Which is probably for the best because Dominic was getting dangerously close to bringing up that weird hot guy again and you weren’t sure you had the strength for round two.
Shoko’s the first one to start talking again. Of course, it’s gossip because when is it not?
She’s halfway through telling you both about some dumb behind-the-scenes mess involving somebody she knows and somebody she definitely should not know when you finally get invested enough to lean in a little.
“No because that’s exactly what I was saying, she literally told him—”
Your phone starts buzzing against the table. Shoko physically groans like head tipping back, eyes squeezing shut, full-body frustration.
“No, because I was on edge,” she says hand over her chest. “You were about to say something good.”
Dominic points his chopsticks at you. “She’s right. That interruption was rude as hell.”
You laugh under your breath and glance down at the screen.
You don’t know why, but something about seeing her name flash across your screen immediately makes you feel like this is somehow about work.
You swipe to answer as you hold the phone up to your ear.
Yuki’s voice comes through bright and dramatic immediately. “Hiiiii!”
You pull the phone back slightly at the volume.
Across from you, Shoko and Dominic are both still staring like this somehow concerns them personally. It possibly could in about ten seconds.
“Okay, don’t get mad,” Yuki says, which is never a good sign.
You narrow your eyes automatically. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” she says quickly. “Technically.”
That does not inspire confidence.
She sighs dramatically into the phone. “Nanami asked me how your music is going.”
You freeze for half a second. Across the table, Shoko’s brows lift just slightly. Dominic is pretending not to listen so badly that it somehow makes him look even more guilty.
“And,” Yuki says carefully, “I may have lied and told him it’s coming along great.”
You close your eyes. Of course she did.
“What?” she says immediately getting defensive. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Actually she’s one bad day away from throwing her laptop into traffic?’”
Dominic snorts across the table. You cut him a look. He immediately looks down at his ramen.
“Please,” Yuki says, dragging the word out pathetically now, “tell me something good so I don’t look stupid later.”
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, eyes drifting down to the broth in front of you for a second.
You technically can tell her everything is alright. Sort of. Not alright enough to say you’re done or you’re confident. Just enough to know it’s not a complete disaster anymore. Which is probably more progress than you’ve had in weeks.
You wet your lips, still staring down at the table.
“It’s…” you start slowly then stop suddenly. For some reason, saying it out loud feels harder than it should. If you admit it’s actually going somewhere, it becomes real in a way you’re not fully prepared for yet.
Across from you, Shoko is watching now. Just listening. Dominic too, for once, actually quiet. Yuki waits on the other end of the line.
“It’s coming together,” you say.
Yuki gasps like you just told her you won the lottery. “Oh my, thank GOODNESS.”
You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “Relax.”
“No, you’re dramatic,” she shoots back immediately. “Do you know how hard it is trying to sound confident when you give me absolutely nothing to work with?”
That gets a small smile out of you. “Nobody told you to lie.”
“And yet I did,” she says proudly. “Because I’m a supportive friend.”
You shake your head, reaching for your drink.
Yuki gasps like you just slapped her through the phone.
“Wow. Okay. Fine. Be rude. But if Nanami asks again, I’m still telling him you’re making something insane.”
You let out a short laugh through your nose.“Please don’t say insane.”
“Too late. It’s already in the universe.”
You can hear the grin in her voice. That makes something in your chest loosen just a little.
“I’m serious, though. I’m glad it’s actually starting to feel better.”
Your fingers curl a little tighter around your phone.
Even if you’re still not fully ready to sit with what that means yet. So instead, you just say the simplest thing. “Yeah.”
Yuki perks right back up like she physically cannot let sincerity sit too long.
Before you can even answer—
You pull the phone away from your ear and stare at the screen for half a second before lowering it with a quiet exhale. You look over and Shoko is already shaking her head.
“That girl is exhausting.”
You laugh, setting your phone down beside your bowl.
Dominic points his chopsticks toward you without looking up from his food. “Still love her, though.”
“Unfortunately,” you mutter. That gets a laugh out of both of them. The weird little pause from earlier passes as easily as it came. The conversation slides back into itself after that.
Shoko picks right back up where she left off with her story like she never got interrupted in the first place, Dominic keeps adding unnecessary commentary every thirty seconds, and soon enough you’re laughing again, warm broth in your chest and your phone face down by your drink.
Lunch had been good, and getting out of the house for a while had honestly done you some good. Yet, there was still something comforting about stepping back inside after being out for a few hours.
The second you shut the front door behind you, the house greets you with that familiar kind of quiet that only home can have.
You barely make it two steps in before Henry comes trotting over like you’ve abandoned him for the last six months instead of leaving him alone for maybe two hours. You let out a small laugh, dropping your keys and bag onto the table by the door.
“Oh, brother. I was not gone that long.”
Henry meows anyway, winding himself dramatically around your legs as if to say otherwise.
“You are so ridiculous,” you murmur, bending down long enough to scratch behind his ears while he shamelessly leans into the attention. “You act like I left you here to starve.”
You slip your shoes off and make your way farther into the house.
You still have some time before you have to get ready for later tonight, and since you’re not in the mood to think about any of that yet, you decide to let yourself be useless for a little while.
You wander into the kitchen then open the fridge despite the fact that you literally just ate. You stare inside for a few seconds like something new is going to magically appear in there just because you’re looking at it.
“Good talk,” you mutter to yourself before closing it again.
Henry, of course, follows you the entire time like a tiny emotional support supervisor making sure you don’t do anything suspicious.
Eventually, you end up on the couch, settling into the cushions while Henry circles twice beside you before deciding your lap is apparently his by birthright. You let him, absently running your fingers through his fur while your body slowly starts to unwind.
Everything feels still in a way that’s actually nice. No one is talking to you. No one is asking you for anything. The TV stays off. The whole house feels like it’s finally exhaling with you.
Your phone vibrates on your stomach.
Spoke too soon… I need to put myself on do not disturb.
You glance toward the sound, expecting maybe one of the group chats or Yuki calling back because she forgot to say something stupid.
Instead, your brows pull together.
Weird enough that your first instinct is to ignore it, but after another ring, curiosity gets the better of you. You reach over and answer anyway. You press the phone to your ear while Henry lifts his head like he’s personally suspicious of the situation.
There’s a brief shuffle on the other end before a woman’s voice comes through. She sounds polite and just professional enough to make you immediately not trust where this is going.
“Hi, is this y/n?” she says.
You sit up a little straighter, your hand pausing where it rests on Henry’s back. “Yeah, this is she. Who’s this?”
“Hi, my name is Melissa. I’m calling from Ridgewood Property Management in regard to the home sale process for the property located on—”
You blink and stare ahead for a second, your brain taking just a little too long to catch up.
You shift a little on the couch, suddenly sitting up all the way now. Honestly, that had completely slipped your mind.
Maybe it had just gotten shoved so far to the back of your brain under deadlines and sessions and everything else going on that it stopped feeling real for a while.
You’d been needing to deal with that for a minute now. It had just never felt urgent enough to put at the top of the list.
It’s not like anyone is living there. It’s not like your father was there. Hell, he wasn’t even really there when you were.
“Right,” you say after a second, rubbing your thumb against the edge of your phone. “Sorry, yeah. Okay.”
Melissa keeps talking, and this time you force yourself to actually pay attention. She explains that they’re getting ready to move forward with the next phase of the sale and just need to confirm a few things on your end before they can send over the final paperwork.
“Wait, final paperwork like… what exactly?”
“Nothing too complicated,” she says quickly, clearly used to people asking that.
“Mostly just ownership confirmation, a few disclosure forms, and whether you’d like to move forward with the home as-is or do one final walk-through before listing.”
You lean your head back against the couch cushion and stare up at the ceiling.
“Okay, that sounds like adult words for ‘a lot,’” you mutter. That earns a small laugh from her.
“I promise it’s less intimidating than it sounds.”
Your eyes drift toward the far wall, but you’re not really looking at anything anymore. You’re just hearing pieces of it.
The fact that this is apparently becoming a real thing whether you’ve emotionally signed off on it or not.
“Is there anything left inside the house? If so, it needs to be removed before we have people walk it.”
You think about it for a second. “Probably a few things,” you admit. “Nothing major, I don’t think. I honestly haven’t been there in forever.”
“That’s completely fine,” she says. “We can make a note of that and include your options in the email.”
“Please do,” you say. If she starts listing all of it off right now, you might actually hang up.
She asks you one or two more basic questions, and you answer them on autopilot. Nodding along like she can somehow see you through the phone. By the time she starts wrapping up, your head feels just slightly off center.
“Okay,” Melissa says kindly, “I’ll send everything over tonight so you can look it over when you have time. If you have any questions once you read through it, just give me a call.”
“Yeah, okay,” you say. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Have a good evening.”
The line clicks dead. You slowly lower the phone from your ear and stare at the screen for a second before setting it down beside you on the couch. Henry looks up at you like he somehow knows that was weird.
You let out a quiet breath and lean back again, dragging a hand over your face as the silence settles back into the room. Selling the house… Actually selling it. Not just talking about it. Not just putting it off until some vague “later” that never seemed to come.
The strangest part is that you can’t even tell if the feeling sitting in your chest is sadness, annoyance, or just the weird kind of emptiness that comes from realizing something you haven’t touched in years is still capable of affecting you.
You stare ahead for a moment, your thoughts drifting somewhere you don’t really feel like following. That house has been out of your life for so long it almost doesn’t even feel real anymore.
Yet, hearing that address out loud again still manages to knock something loose. You hate that. You hate even more that you don’t really have time to sit here and spiral about it.
So instead, you reach over and scratch Henry between the ears.
“Well,” you murmur, mostly to him and mostly to yourself, “that was weird.”
Henry purrs like that solved everything.
You finally stop thinking about the phone call, it’s only because enough time has passed that your brain has no choice but to move on to the next thing.
You spend the rest of the evening doing little things around the house that make you feel productive without actually requiring much from you. You answer a couple texts, leave the email from Melissa unopened in your inbox on purpose, and eventually force yourself to at least glance over the session file so you don’t go into tonight feeling completely unprepared.
At some point, you end up back upstairs to change, mostly because the clothes you’ve had on all day suddenly start feeling too much like outside. You pull on something softer and more comfortable, wash your face, fix your hair just enough that it doesn’t look like you’ve been fighting for your life all day, and tell yourself that the only reason you’re doing any of that is because it’s almost midnight and you’re tired.
Nothing deeper than that.
You come back downstairs. The house settled into that late night kind of silence that makes everything feel more noticeable.
The tiny jingle of Henry’s bell on his collar whenever he jumps around.
The faint sound of your own footsteps moving through the house.
Even the studio feels different at this hour. It feels quieter and more private. You drift inside and set a few things up without really thinking about it. Laptop open. Water on the desk. Headphones where they’re supposed to be. The little routine of it all helps more than you expect. It gives your hands something to do.
Which is good, because your mind has started circling back to him now that the clock is getting closer. Not in any huge way. Just enough to be annoying.
You lean back in the chair for a second and glance at the time in the corner of your laptop screen.
You exhale quietly and tap your nails once against the armrest. If you’re being honest, the weirdest part isn’t that he’s coming over. It’s that this is already becoming a thing. These late nights. These sessions.
The two of you circling around each other for hours at a time like that’s normal.
Maybe it is starting to become normal?
Which feels stranger than it should. You hear Henry move before you hear the knock.
Was he a dog in a past life?
His head lifts first from where he’d been loafed dramatically in the hallway like he owns the place.
Your eyes flick toward the front of the house. You stay sitting there for half a second longer than necessary before pushing back from the desk and standing.
You’re not nervous. Just…whatever.
You walk through the house with your arms loosely folded over yourself. Henry already trotting ahead like he’s somehow personally involved in this arrangement.
“You are so embarrassing,” you mutter to him under your breath as you reach the front door.
You rest your hand on the handle for the briefest second before pulling the door open. Sukuna stands on the other side like he always does. Tall, and annoyingly arrogant. One hand is tucked into the pocket of his sweats, the other hanging loose by his side. His expression as plain as ever as his eyes settle on you.
For a second, neither of you says anything.
Because apparently Henry has no loyalty whatsoever, he squeezes past your legs and immediately makes a beeline for Sukuna. You glance down at him in disbelief.
“Wow,” you mutter. “Okay.”
Sukuna’s eyes flicker downward just in time to see Henry winding around his legs like this is his house too. He looks back at you.
You stare at him for a second. Then roll your eyes and step aside, motioning him in.
“Please don’t start already.”
He walks past you without a word, and the second the door clicks shut behind him, the silence settles weirdly between you.
A little leftover from last time.
You turn to face him, folding your arms loosely over yourself while he stands there like he didn’t just walk into your space carrying a full wall of emotional avoidance with him.
“Can we just try to get along tonight?” you ask already sounding a little tired of your own life. “I already have a headache and I really don’t need any extra stress right now.”
That gets his attention in a way you can’t fully read. His brows pull together just slightly.
“Then don’t piss me off,” he says flatly.
You blink at him then let out one dry laugh. “See, that’s exactly the kind of inspiring teamwork attitude I’m talking about.”
His mouth twitches slightly. You almost didn’t catch it. Almost. You point at him immediately.
“That weird stupid smirk thing.”
He stares at you as his expression goes blank again like he has no idea what you’re talking about. “You’re making things up.”
“Mhm.” You narrow your eyes at him before turning toward the studio.
“Whatever. Just… be tolerable for like two hours. That’s all I’m asking.”
You shake your head and start walking already feeling the familiar low throb of tension settle back in now that it’s just the two of you again.
You both make it into the studio, the tension from the walk over has dulled into something quieter. Pushed aside in favor of the reason he’s actually here. You move toward your chair while Sukuna hangs back near the desk for a second, glancing at the setup you’d already left half ready before he got here.
The room is dim, lit mostly by your laptop screen and the lamp in the corner. At this hour everything feels a little more insulated from the rest of the world. Once that studio door closes, nothing outside of it is supposed to matter.
Which would be nice if your brain would cooperate.
You slide into your seat and wake the laptop up while Sukuna moves to stand beside you, leaning just enough to look over the session file as it loads. Neither of you says anything until he finally breaks the silence.
“We should start with the chorus.”
You glance up at him. “The main one?”
He nods once. “Get the strongest part down first. Everything else can follow after that.”
“Okay,” you say reaching for the mouse. “Yeah. That’s fine.”
You click through the project, pulling up the vocal track and isolating the section you need. The instrumental loops softly through the speakers while you get everything ready. The familiarity of the process helps settle you.
As you adjust the levels and glance toward the booth, your mind slips right back to the phone call.
To the stupidly professional voice on the other end saying things like walk-through and final paperwork and moving forward like that house wasn’t tied to a thousand things you’d rather not drag out tonight.
Hopefully this means you won’t have to talk to your father. That’s the main thing.
If they can just handle the sale through email and signatures and whatever other boring adult shit exists, then maybe you can get through this without hearing his voice or dealing with him pretending to care now that something actually needs to be done.
You stare a little too long at the screen.
“You gonna record, or are you just planning on intimidating the waveform?” Sukuna’s voice cuts right through your thoughts.
He’s looking at you with the same unreadable expression he always wears when he’s about to say something annoying on purpose. “You’ve been staring at the screen for, like, thirty seconds.”
You immediately frown. “No, I haven’t.”
“Okay, well, maybe I was thinking.”
You shoot him a look but he doesn’t care. You exhale through your nose and stand, grabbing the headphones off the desk before stepping toward the booth.
“Can you just not be irritating for, like, five minutes?”
“That depends,” he says easily. “Can you sing on beat for five minutes?”
You turn to glare at him over your shoulder.
You mutter something under your breath that he definitely hears but chooses not to respond to, then slip into the booth and pull the headphones on.
The track feeds into your ears. You adjust one side of the headphones, and give him a small nod to let him know you’re ready.
The chorus approaches and the cue comes.
And then…nothing. Not literally nothing. The words come a beat too late, your timing slightly off in a way that instantly makes you cringe. You stop yourself halfway through the line and yank one side of the headphones off.
“Wait, wait.” You wave a hand. “No. Again.”
Sukuna doesn’t say anything at first. He just resets the track. You press the headphones back over your ear.
A few lines in then your brain snags again.
The possibility of having to go back there.
The possibility of seeing him.
Your voice wavers just enough for you to hear it.
You pull the headphones off fully this time and step back from the mic, rubbing at your forehead. Through the glass, Sukuna doesn’t move right away.
He leans back in his chair and folds his arms. You can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to piss you off. You push out of the booth and open the door.
Sukuna raises a brow. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
You narrow your eyes. “That was such a lie.”
He tilts his head a little, watching you for a second too long before finally speaking. “No.”
Your brows pull together. “Doing what?”
He gestures vaguely in your direction like the answer is obvious. “Whatever mood this is.”
You actually let out a short laugh at that. Mostly because he would phrase it like that.
Sukuna just looks at you. A long, unimpressed look that makes your irritation sharpen instantly.
“You missed your cue twice,” he says. “You’re distracted. I’m not wasting a session while you sit here somewhere else in your head.”
You cross your arms over yourself. “I’m fine.”
His voice isn’t soft. Doesn’t even try to be. It’s flat. Matter-of-fact. Like he’s pointing out bad audio levels instead of you.
“You’ve been off since I got here.”
You scoff. “Here you go.”
That makes your body still, not because of what he says but because of how he says it. There’s no mockery in it this time. No sarcasm. Just that same steady look like he’s already decided he’s right and is waiting for you to catch up.
You look away first. “I said I’m fine.”
“Then stop acting like I’m supposed to work around whatever the hell this is.”
The room goes quiet. The instrumental still loops softly in the background. Somehow it only makes the silence between you feel more obvious. You stare down at the floor for a second, jaw tight.
Now you can feel the pressure building around the thing you very clearly do not want to say out loud. You let out a slow breath through your nose and rub at your temple again.
“I got a call earlier,” you mutter finally. Sukuna’s expression doesn’t change but his eyes sharpen just slightly.
You hesitate before telling him, “This house.”
“I’m trying to sell one of our houses,” you mutter.
You keep your eyes on the headphones in your hands. Your body refuses to move.
Sukuna doesn’t respond right away. When you finally risk a glance at him, he’s still watching you with that same unreadable look that always feels like it sees a little too much.
“That’s not what you said.”
You let out a short humorless laugh. “Wow. Really?”
Instead of giving him anything else to work with, you stand up and move back to the booth.
“It’s just been a hassle,” you say keeping your tone casual on purpose. “That’s all.”
Sukuna studies you for another second, like he’s deciding whether or not to push.
That catches you off guard.
He reaches past you and grabs the mouse, pulling the track back to the top.
“What, you want me to make it worse?”
You stare at him. He doesn’t even sound sarcastic. Just dry. Like he knows he already pushed enough. Sukuna clicks through a couple settings, lowers one of the channels slightly, then glances toward the booth.
“Come on,” he says, voice quieter now. “Let’s just get this part down.”
That’s about as close to easing up as he gets. You hold his gaze for a second before looking away first and taking the headphones. He is not pressing you to talk further.
He leans back just enough to let you pass.
“And you’re still stalling.”
You stand there for a second with the headphones around your neck, one hand still resting on the booth door. The instrumental keeps looping through the speakers.
It’s starting to feel like it’s scraping against your skull. Behind you, Sukuna clicks something on the screen.
“You gonna start or just stand there?”
You exhale through your nose and pull the headphones off completely. “Actually…give me a second.”
You turn and look at him, already over it. Sukuna looks at you like you just said something mildly offensive.
“You haven’t even done anything yet.”
“Exactly.” You rub at your temple. “That should tell you something.”
He opens his mouth. Probably to say something annoying. Something about wasting time or being dramatic. Or how deadlines don’t care if you’re in a mood but then he stops. His eyes flick toward the screen. Then the booth. Then back to you.
The longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he’s realizing something he probably doesn’t want to admit.
You can see it now that you’re actually looking. The slight tension in his jaw. The fact that he’s been rubbing the back of his neck every ten minutes like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. He lets out a quiet breath and leans back from the desk.
That was easier than expected.
Sukuna gives you a flat look. “Don’t get used to it.”
You almost smile. He drags a hand down his face, then glances back at the paused session like even he’s getting sick of looking at it.
“This shit’s starting to piss me off anyway.”
That gets a tiny laugh out of you before you can stop it. That seems to make some of the pressure in the room ease up too. You grab your water bottle off the desk.
“So you need a break too.”
Sukuna points lazily toward the door.
“Go before I change my mind.”
You shake your head, but this time there’s no real edge behind it.
You leave the studio before either of you can ruin the moment by talking too much. The second you’re not staring at a screen or pretending to focus on vocals, your mind goes right back to it.
Not in a full-blown panic kind of way… yet. Just enough to be annoying.
Out of all times, why does this have to become a thing now, when you already have a million other things sitting on your chest? It’s not even like it’s ruining your life. It’s just… an inconvenient, badly timed, pain-in-the-ass hassle.
You let out a quiet breath and decide you need like—five minutes. Maybe less. Just enough to reset your brain before going back in there and pretending to be a functional person again.
So you make your way to your stash, grab what you need, and head for the back door. The second you step outside, the air hits you. The kind of night breeze that makes your skin wake up a little.
You shut the sliding door quietly behind you and step out onto the patio, taking a second just to stand there.
The trees shift softly in the distance, leaves rustling every now and then when the wind picks up. Somewhere farther off, you can hear the faint hum of the city, but out here it’s muted enough to ignore. The moon is out, high and pale, with stars scattered around it just enough to be noticed between the dark.
For the first time all night, your head feels a little less crowded. You take your quick smoke break leaning against the railing, eyes drifting up toward the sky, down toward the yard, nowhere in particular.
Away from the laptop. Away from the deadline. Away from the fact that tomorrow always seems to show up way too fast lately.
You realize you’ve probably been out there longer than you meant to. Not by much. Just as you’re thinking maybe you should head back in, you hear the soft slide of the door behind you. You glance over your shoulder and see Sukuna step out onto the patio.
He looks around once before his eyes land on you. Then the blunt in your hand. Then back to you.
A laugh slips out of you before you can help it.“Damn. You sound disappointed.”
“I am.” He walks over, stopping close enough to join you but not close enough to crowd. “Would’ve saved me from hearing that chorus again.”
You snort taking another hit before narrowing your eyes at him.
“And yet,” he says holding his hand out, “you’re still talking to me.”
You look down at his open palm. Then up at him, then back down at the blunt again. You let the silence stretch for a second like you’re genuinely weighing the moral implications.
“I don’t know…” you murmur. “You seem like the type to slobber all over it.”
Sukuna stares at you. Offended, almost.
That gets a real laugh out of you this time. A full one. That seems to make something in his face loosen a little.
“You look like you do,” you say finally passing it over.
He takes it with a quiet scoff. “You say insane shit with way too much confidence.”
He takes a hit, then leans his shoulder against the patio frame beside you like he’s finally giving in to the fact that he needed the break too.
Neither of you says anything. You are taking I. The soft night air. The distant hum of the city acts as white noise. Trees shifting in the dark. Henry pawing uselessly at the glass door from inside like he owns this place.
Sukuna glances over. “Your cat loves me.”
You smile faintly, looking back toward the glass.
“Tch. Thought I was special.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He exhales slowly, smoke curling up into the night.
The question catches you off guard. Not because it’s dramatic but because it’s… plain. There was no sarcasm or jabs. It was just thrown out there.
Somehow that makes it harder to answer. You look out into the yard instead of at him.
He doesn’t say anything. You can feel him looking at you anyway. You sigh, rubbing your thumb against the side of the blunt when he passes it back.
“It’s just…” you pause, trying to figure out how to say it without saying too much. “I don’t know. I hate when life starts piling shit up all at once.”
Sukuna stays quiet. So you keep going. Not because you planned to but the words were already halfway out.
“Like, none of it is even world ending.” You let out a small breath. “It’s just annoying. One thing, then another thing, then another thing, and suddenly you’re irritated before anything even actually happens.”
He nods once like he gets it. He probably does.
“That call you told me about?” he asks.
You glance at him before looking away again.
“Yeah. Trying to sell one of our houses.”
Sukuna’s brows pull together a little. “You never went into detail about who ‘our’ was.”
You huff out a laugh through your nose.
“My dad’s.” You correct yourself. “Technically. Or… one of his. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.
Is it the weed talking? Why the fuck did I just tell him that?
You keep your face neutral, but internally, you’re already cringing.
I’m going to kick myself for this the second I’m sober.
“It’s just been a hassle trying to deal with it,” you add hoping that somehow makes it less weird. Repeating your earlier statement.
Sukuna leans his shoulder more fully against the patio frame, eyes tipping up toward the dark sky. He’s giving your problem the exact amount of thought he thinks it deserves.
That’s it? You let out a short laugh, almost offended.
His eyes slide back to yours, completely unbothered.
“What do you want me to say?” he asks, taking the blunt when you hold it out. “Damn. That’s crazy.”
“I know.” He takes a hit, then points the blunt vaguely in your direction. “You should write that down before you forget.”
You narrow your eyes at him fighting back a smile. “I’m actually being serious.”
“And I’m actually listening.” He says it so plainly that it catches you a little off guard. Sukuna exhales slowly, smoke flowing into the air between you.
“It does sound annoying,” he says after a second, quieter this time. “Selling a house is already a pain in the ass. Selling one that comes with family bullshit attached?” He gives a small shrug. “Yeah. Sounds worse.”
Okay. That was… more than you expected. You look down rubbing your thumb against the paper as he passes the blunt back.
“See, now that was almost helpful.”
He scoffs. “Don’t piss me off. I take it back.”
A laugh slips out of you, softer this time. The kind that comes easier now. “Too late. I heard it.”
You shake your head, taking another hit as you looked out into the yard. The breeze brushes over your skin just enough to make you sink into it. The chirp of crickets in the distance. Henry’s blurry little silhouette glaring at both of you from the glass like you’ve personally ruined his evening.
“So what, they just called out of nowhere?” he asks.
You hum nodding. “Unknown number and everything. I almost didn’t answer.”
“You answer unknown numbers?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. Some of us don’t have the luxury of ignoring random calls in case they’re important.”
He gives you a dry look. “Most random calls are not important.”
“Well this one unfortunately was.”
He clicks his tongue. “That’s on you for being responsible.”
You bark out a laugh. “Shut up.”
The conversation had wandered so far from where it started that you couldn’t even remember what the original point had been.
Somewhere between complaining about your dad, arguing over whether his rolling standards were ridiculous, and him trying to convince you that people who slept with the TV on were clinically irritating, the whole thing had somehow slipped into something easier.
“You definitely sleep like a psychopath,” you said, taking the blunt back from him.
Sukuna frowned. “Because I don’t need artificial noise to function?”
“No because you look like the type to sleep in complete silence. Like actually dead silent.”
“That’s called being normal.”
“That’s the first sign that someone is a serial killer.”
He let out a dry breath through his nose and leaned back further in his chair, stretching one leg out in front of him. “You’re deeply annoying.”
“And yet,” you muttered lifting the blunt to your mouth, “here you are.”
The second the words left your mouth, you wanted them back. They weren’t flirty in any way but because they sounded… too familiar? You’re just borrowing his language.
He reached over and took the blunt from your hand before you could hit it again.
You blinked. “Excuse you?”
You stared at him. “Done with what?”
He looked at the barely there end of it and then at you like the answer should’ve been obvious.
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it. “Oh, shut up.”
“You get more annoying the higher you get.”
You narrowed your eyes. “That is not true.”
“You’ve repeated yourself three times.”
You opened your mouth. “…Have I?”
Sukuna’s mouth did that stupid smirk he always did. That was honestly more offensive than if he’d outright laughed in your face.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair and covering your face with one sleeve. “I hate this.”
The words were casual. Said so easily they probably didn’t mean anything at all. Maybe that was why your stomach gave that weird little flip before your brain could catch up.
Because he’d said it like he knew.
Like this—whatever this stupid little patio conversation had turned into—wasn’t half as unbearable as either of you usually pretended it was.
Your hand dropped from your face just enough for you to look at him. He was already looking away again.
Like he hadn’t said anything weird and he hadn’t done anything at all. You swallowed once then scoffed. “You’re really full of yourself.”
Sukuna shrugged one shoulder. “Usually I’m right.”
You rolled your eyes and reached for the blunt again. Only for him to move it just out of reach.
“That is not how ownership works.”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
You stared at him in disbelief. Despite yourself, a laugh slipped out. The kind that surprised even you. Maybe that was why it went so quiet right after. The night had paused for half a second to look at the two of you.
For one tiny, stupid second, it felt weirdly, dangerously easy to stay there. Sukuna clicked his tongue first and stood, dusting his hands off against his pants.
“That’s enough,” he said.
You looked up at him. “You’re acting like somebody’s dad.”
“You’d be mean at it too.”
“I would be excellent at it.”
You snorted softly and finally pushed yourself up from the chair too, tugging your sleeves back over your hands. The patio suddenly felt colder standing than it had sitting. Sukuna slid the door open and stepped halfway inside before looking back at you.
“Don’t forget your phone.”
Part 9? series m.list | m.list |
