#(maybe a few brief/references but it’s not that kind of book)

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Terra Nullius

literary scifi

set in a near future Australia being colonised by aliens, echoing history

follows a boy who escapes from a mission school ‘reeducating’ stolen Indigenous children and is pursued across the desert, searching for where he came from

and the various characters he encounters or who are searching for him, revealing context and worldbuilding as it goes on

[petermorwood]

A day or so ago, @dduane reblogged a long post - a Canadian magazine article from 1966 - about the Americanisation of Winnie the Pooh.

It's an Impressive Tirade in which the writer (Sheila H. Kieran) says what she thinks about letting Walt Disney have a free hand with a foreign Children's Classic.

There's mention of the previous Adaptation Endeavour, "Mary Poppins" (1964) but it's very brief, perhaps with an eye to limited column space - or maybe because All Was Said Already in a previous review.

There is, however, rather a lot about the English characters being given American accents, and about the inclusion of a new character, an American gopher (which, the article suggests, looked vague enough to the Kieran children - its target audience - that it might as well have been a mole or a beaver).

*****

And that reminded me of another bit of American Animalisation done by Disney, in the 1949 short "The Wind and the Willows" - though in this instance it's visual since the voices are, for the most part, suitably British.

They include Basil Rathbone as narrator, and a horse who sounds like George Formby. In some scenes the horse actually looks like Formby, so this voice may not be entirely accidental.

Badger, however, sounds like a Scotsman - the worst kind of stage Scotsman at that - rather than how I used to "hear" him as a C. Aubrey Smith-voiced crusty retired colonel.

That, however, is just personal preference.

However, Disney's Badger is not a proper British (more correctly, European) badger, Meles meles. Here's one, which though not the most amiable of beasts in reality, still manages to look fairly affable ("I say, old chap, whatever are you looking at?")

Instead he's a North American badger, Taxidea taxus, which not only has a less affable expression ("Hey, bud, you. Yeah, you. You lookin' at me? You lookin' at ME?") but, more important, different stripes.

Here's Disney's version alongside mine. The correction took about five minutes of pixel-tweaking.

Disney's animators could have got it right from the outset just as easily, because I'm pretty sure the reference library which provided costume info for Rat's tweed Norfolk jacket and britches included picture-books of natural history.

Come to that, any "The Wind in the Willows" after the unillustrated first edition would have been enough, and there must have been at least one copy lying around for story adaptation and scene-description purposes.

The first illustrated edition came out in the UK in 1931, and its artist was, at author Kenneth Graham's request, the very same E.H. Shepard who had illustrated the Pooh books just a few years previously...

...while this Arthur Rackham colour plate is from an edition published in 1940 in New York.

So those books wouldn't have been impossible for Disney to get.

The problem, however, is that if a word ("badger", for instance) is well known to mean one thing here, it may be Too Much Trouble to find out if the same word means something else there, with the result that finding out can sometimes come as rather a surprise.

Check the UK / US meaning of "suspenders" to see what I mean... ;->

[marvelstoriesepic]

Where We Were When the Stars Came Out

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky and you take a momentary break from the chaos of your lives.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: brief mentions of past violence; references to PTSD; lots of fluff and coziness

Author’s Note: I honestly needed that fluffiness after all the angst of the fics before. So we can all thank my lovely dear for requesting this sweetness!! I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

They told you to take time.

They told you to make the best out of the little time off you got.

The last mission ended with too much blood in the soil, and Bucky’s hands were shaking again, and you started storing your panic behind your teeth.

So you left.

Not far. Not long. But far enough. Long enough.

Tony promised you some five-star hotel on some Caribbean island. But Bucky and you declined without hesitation. Because that’s not what you both thought of.

The cabin you are staying at isn’t fancy at all. It creaks like it has knees, groans like an old man when the wind pushes too hard at its bones. The wood is worn in places, kissed silver by time, and the windows fog up if you so much as look at them with a hot drink in your hands.

It sits quietly in the folds of a forgotten forest, between sloping hills and trees that reach toward the sky.

There is a lake nearby, flowing and bubbling along so serenely. Birds skim its surface in the mornings. You’d watch them from the window, your fingers curled around a chipped ceramic mug, back pressed against Bucky’s chest, his arms around you, his head on yours.

The world doesn’t know how to find you here.

And you don’t ask it to.

You cooked with what little the kitchen allowed earlier today. Bucky found joy in chopping vegetables with a dedication so high, as if it meant something. You teased him for measuring salt as if it mattered, as if it wasn’t just the two of you eating in socks with mismatched mugs and nowhere to be.

He burned the grilled cheese this morning because he just couldn’t stop kissing you on the countertop, worshipping you with his lips, his tongue, his hands, his voice.

The smoke alarm had screamed loud enough to wake the trees and he’d cursed under his breath, waving a towel around like the old man he is. You only laughed, leaned over the kitchen counter with your elbows popped up and soft eyes. He blamed the pan, the stove, the altitude. Because kissing you, he claimed, was never the problem.

The second sandwich came out golden, perfect, cut into triangles, and plated with too much pride. It tasted like freedom and cheese and warmth and Bucky’s love.

There are books left by strangers on the shelf. Dog-eared pages and notes in the margins. You'd read them aloud on the couch, legs tangled, your ankle over his. His hand absentminded in your hair, his thumb brushing behind your ear every few minutes like a compass realigning north.

He didn’t talk much but his kisses were hot like firelight.

And he listened as if the words were balm. Sometimes he closed his eyes. Not asleep, just still. Relishing.

You like him best like that. Breathing. Not bracing.

Tonight, you sit on the terrace.

It’s quiet here too. Just the two of you and the cold at the edge of the world, trying to sneak in past the seams of the wool blanket stretched over your bodies. Bucky is meticulous, always has been, especially with you - he tugs the corners down, beneath your knees, under your arms, around your shoulders, making sure your feet are covered like maybe he thinks the cold could steal you away.

“Warm enough?” he whispers lowly into your ear, accompanying the question with a soft kiss to the side of your head.

You nod with a contented hum, your cheek pressed against the curve of his chest, listening to the metronome of his heart.

The sky is a bruise fading into velvet. The kind of dark that is anything but empty. The kind of sky that reminds you how much you two survived to witness this.

The stars come slow.

As if they, too, have something to savor.

As if they know that you are watching.

“Do you hear that, love?” he asks, voice like soft gravel right at your ear.

You blink. Listen. The wind. An owl, somewhere far off. Leaves rustling like paper.

“What?” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Nothing,” he says, grinning. “That’s the point.”

With a soft giggle, you kiss his jaw and move even closer, half in his lap, finding the dip of his shoulder, his arms around you pulling you into his warmth. He rests his chin on your hair, and you both exhale as if you’ve been holding your breath for years.

It smells like pine needles and earth. Like whatever he used in his beard. Like late nights that don’t come with battle plans.

Bucky is holding you as if he finally found something worth staying still for.

“I forgot there were this many stars,” you murmur absently.

Bucky doesn’t answer right away. Just looks up.

The stars have scattered themselves wildly across the sky, without pattern or apology. Bold and endless. Unfiltered. And Bucky traces them as if he is learning something, relearning the night. As if maybe he’d forgotten how to exist in a world where the sky didn’t end in fire.

“You see that one?” he points with a chin tilt, keeps his head pressed against yours. “Looks like a crooked arrow.”

You blink up. “No way. That’s clearly a lopsided cat.”

He laughs. Real and unguarded. Head back, mouth wide, nothing hidden.

And just like that, the sky isn’t the most beautiful thing in front of you.

You shift closer. He pulls you tighter. Kisses your hair.

“Okay,” you start softly, tipping your head up. “Pick one.”

Bucky hums half beside, half behind you. Thoughtful. His breath touches your hair as he shifts, metal arm tightening around your waist. He lifts his flesh hand, pointing toward a crooked mess of stars to the northeast.

“That one. Looks like a bird. Maybe a hawk.”

You squint. “More like a chicken,” you hum, grinning.

He glances at you. There’s a smirk playing on his mouth. Soft. Secretive.

“You’ve got no imagination, doll,” he states, a breathy laughter in his voice.

You scoff, playful. “I do have imagination. That’s why I see a chicken, babe.”

His smile is crooked. His eyes are full of adoration.

Your eyes continue tracing the constellations.

You are quiet for a beat, then you point higher, farther to a cluster shaped like that smile you love.

“That one,” you say quietly. “That’s you.”

He doesn’t look. Not right away.

“What do you mean?”

You let your fingers rest against his chest, right over his heart. “Don’t know. It’s just beautiful.”

He laughs. Quiet and startled as if the sound just slipped out before he had time to be afraid of it. You forget to breathe at the intense way he looks at you.

“God,” he breathes. Swallows. “I don’t know how you do it, sweetheart.”

“Do what?”

His flesh hand slips under your chin, tilts your face toward his as if he needs you to really see him.

“Make it easy to be soft.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, leans his forehead to yours and you watch him close his eyes.

“I’m happy to be of service,” you whisper fondly with a hint of teasing and he presses his smile against yours. Your half-lidded eyes close fully.

“I like it here,” you breathe against his lips.

He takes a deep breath that is filled with you. “Yeah,” he exhales. “Me too.”

“I could stay here forever with you,” you sigh sweetly.

“We could make it forever.”

Your eyes open and you meet his. There is a constellation in his baby blues as well. Their vastness is filled to the brim. As if someone dropped the whole sky in his eyes and never claimed it back. His emotions spread like stars. Tiny and shiny dots. So much glitter that nobody ever intended to clean off.

Before you can answer, something bright streaks across the sky overhead.

A meteor.

You gasp, eyes wide and sparkling.

“Make a wish,” you cheer in a whisper, a wide smile blooming on your mouth.

But Bucky doesn’t even look away from you for a second. And he doesn’t give himself a second to think about another answer.

“I don’t need to,” he murmurs tenderly, adoring. Full of love. “You’re right here.”

He pulls you closer again.

And you let him. You don’t laugh.

Because he said it without flinching. Because his fingers are steady and strong against your skin. Because his heartbeat is slow and in rhythm. Because the stars are out and they are not competing with headlights or gunfire or the screaming ache of the past.

Out here they just exist.

Out here the sky remembers how to be quiet.

And so do you.

[gf2bellamy]

hiiii hun💗💗 i love your spencer fics so much i literally get giddy when i open tumblr and i see you’ve put up new ones 🥰🥰

can i request a spencer x neighbour!reader like maybe one of them knocks on their door to complain about noise or accidentally closes the elevator door on them and initially don’t like each other and then they run into each other again and get talking and invite them in for a drink or dinner?

idk if you’ve written something like this already if u have then nvm haha thanksss take careeeee

-🍓

neighbours — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer sort of being dry / cold ( only in the beginning ) , mention of reader having a bad day a/n: thank you so much that makes me so happy :( <3333 - i hope you like this !! also i had to mention of mice and men i love that book so so much

You were having a terrible day. The kind of day where nothing seemed to go right. Your morning coffee had spilled all over your favorite sweater, your boss had dumped an unreasonable amount of work on your desk, and to top it all off, you’d gotten stuck in the rain on your way home. By the time you walked through your front door, you were soaked, frustrated, and in desperate need of some comfort. 

That’s why you had your music turned up loud, the bass thumping through your small apartment as you stood in the kitchen, staring at the oven.

The scent of chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air, but they weren’t baking fast enough for your liking. You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter, tapping your foot impatiently. If you stared hard enough, maybe they’d bake faster.

You were so lost in your thoughts that the knock on your door startled you. You straightened up, frowning. You weren’t expecting anyone, and your friends usually texted before showing up.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you walked to the door and peered through the peephole. Standing on the other side was your neighbor—the tall, lanky guy from across the hall. You were pretty sure his name was Spencer. You’d seen him around a few times, always carrying a stack of books or muttering to himself as he fumbled with his keys.

Your friends had heard you refer to him as “the cute neighbour” more than once, and you never felt the need to correct them.

You opened the door slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Hi?” you said, your voice tinged with confusion. 

He stood there, looking slightly awkward and not particularly happy. His hair was a little messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a sweater that looked like it had seen better days.

“Hi,” he replied, his tone flat. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding direct eye contact. “Could you, um, lower your music? It’s… kind of loud.” 

You blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things you’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it. You crossed your arms over your chest, your frustration from the day bubbling to the surface. “It’s not that loud,” you said defensively, your voice sharper than you intended. “I’m just trying to unwind after a really crappy day.” 

Spencer’s eyes flicked up to meet yours for a brief moment before darting away again. He looked uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation.

“I understand that,” he said slowly, his voice softer now, “but it’s… it’s really distracting. I’m trying to work, and I can’t focus with the bass vibrating through the walls.” 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him that you had every right to blast your music in your own apartment, but the look on his face stopped you.

He didn’t seem angry—just tired and a little stressed. Still, you weren’t ready to back down completely. “Fine,” you said, your tone clipped. “I’ll turn it down. But just so you know, it’s not like I do this every day.” 

He nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it.” 

You didn’t respond, just closed the door a little harder than necessary and leaned against it, letting out a frustrated groan.

Great. Now you were the bad guy. You stomped back to the kitchen and turned the music down, the sudden silence making the apartment feel eerily empty.

The timer on the oven dinged, and you pulled out the cookies, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was heavenly, but it did little to improve your mood. 

In the days that followed , things between you and Spencer were… awkward. Not hostile, but not exactly friendly either. You’d pass each other in the hallway, exchanging the briefest of glances before quickly looking away.

There were no greetings, no small talk—just a dry, unspoken tension that hung in the air.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He was just your neighbor, after all. Sure, he was cute in a nerdy, endearing kind of way, but that didn’t mean you had to be friends.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed every time you saw him and he didn’t so much as smile in your direction. 

A week later, you found yourself in the cozy little bookstore across the street from your apartment. It was one of your favorite places to escape to.

You’d been searching for a specific book for ages—Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. You’d read it before, years ago, but something about the story had stuck with you, and you’d been itching to revisit it.

As you wandered through the fiction section, your eyes scanned the spines of the books until you finally spotted it. There it was, sitting on the shelf like it had been waiting for you.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you reached for it, but just as your fingers brushed the spine, another hand reached for it at the same time.

You froze, your eyes darting up to meet Spencer’s. He looked just as surprised as you were, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Sorry,” you mumbled finally, dropping your hand and taking a step back. “You can have it.”

Spencer blinked, his expression softening. “No, no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his voice quiet. “You were here first. I can find another copy.”

You shook your head, gesturing toward the book. “Really, it’s fine. I’ve read it before. I was just… in the mood to read it again.”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the book. “It’s a good one,” he said after a moment, his tone thoughtful. “The themes of friendship and sacrifice are really compelling. And the ending…” He trailed off, his gaze distant, as if he were reliving the story in his mind.

You couldn’t help but smile, surprised by how easily he’d opened up about it.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice softer now. “It’s heartbreaking, but in a way that makes you think. I remember finishing it and just sitting there for a while, trying to process everything.”

Spencer nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Exactly. It’s one of those books that stays with you long after you’ve read it.”

The tension between you seemed to melt away as you talked, the conversation flowing more naturally than you’d expected.

You found yourself leaning against the bookshelf, your arms crossed as you debated the symbolism of the rabbits and the dream of owning a farm. Spencer, for his part, seemed to relax too, his gestures becoming more animated as he spoke.

At one point, he paused, his expression turning slightly sheepish. “I, um, I wanted to apologize for the other day,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t mean to come off as rude when I asked you to turn the music down. I was just… stressed, and I didn’t handle it well.”

You shook your head, feeling a pang of guilt. “No, I’m the one who should apologize,” you said quickly. “I was having a bad day, and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Spencer shifted his weight, his fingers tapping lightly against the book he was still holding. “So, um,” he began, his voice hesitant, “if you’re not in a rush, there’s a coffee shop next door. I was going to grab a cup, and… well, if you’d like to join me, we could keep talking about the book. Or, you know, whatever.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the invitation.. “Yeah,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, and you could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush creep across his cheeks. “Great,” he said, his voice a little brighter now. “Let me just, uh, pay for this first.”

He turned and walked toward the register, leaving you standing there, slightly stunned. You watched as he handed the cashier the book. When he turned back to you, he held the book out, his expression soft.

“Here,” he said, offering it to you. “You should have it. You were looking for it, after all.”

You stared at him, surprised. “But… you paid for it,” you said, your voice tinged with confusion. “I can’t just take it.”

He shrugged, his smile shy but persistent. “Consider it a peace offering.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking the book, your fingers brushing against his briefly. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your cheeks warming. “That’s… really sweet of you.”

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “So, coffee?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Coffee,” you agreed smiling, tucking the book under your arm.

[missyonmission]

NSFW - no minors - smut with plot

Plot: You are the campus sweetheart. A high-class, rich girl who's always following the rules. Super kind and friendly to everyone. You are at the top of every class and put your focus and time on studying and family matters, just like you were raised to.

But what happens when you find yourself in one room with the campus troublemaker himself, letting yourself go for the very first time in your life and let him introduce you to a completely new world? A world full of carefree fun, lust, and love, like you never experienced before...

Warnings: bad boy! Sukuna - rich girl! Reader - drug use (Weed) - first time smoking - kinda forced intoxication? (reader is curious but persuaded into it) - shotgunning - making out - inexperienced!reader - sex under the influence - protected sex - markings (hickeys, biting) - multiple rounds - missionary - doggy - cowgirl - getting caught in the act - after care

Word count: 13.438

Might write more chapters to this. Already have a few drafts in the works...

You are skipping over to the boys dormitory after class to work on a project with Itadori, greeting a few people on your way with a polite smile and short small talk about classes, professors and extracurriculars, denying some invitations to parties and movie dates.

When you arrive at the boys' dormitory, you write down your name in the guest book and make your way upstairs. You knock on the door, expecting Itadori to open it, but to your surprise, you are greeted with the face of his roommate.

Sukuna Ryomen. You only heard stories about him, sometimes seeing him lurking around campus with his shady friends. At first, one could think that Sukuna and Itadori are related, but despite their similar features and the hair color Itadori copied, because he thought it was kind of cool, the two of them share no similarities. Sukuna Ryomen just happened to be a lot scarier than the bubbly ball of excitement that was Itadori Yuji.

“He’ll be here in about 20 minutes or so. You can stay or whatever. Doesn’t make a difference to me. If you do stay though, don’t touch anything on the fuckin’ table.” Sukuna said, rubbing his knuckles against the tattoos on his face tiredly.

You timidly walk into the dorm room. "20 minutes isn't that long, I can wait." You smile politely at him, not wanting to give into the temptation of judging a book by its covers.

The room is barely lit, and it was smelling a lot like weed and sweat. You put your stuff down on Itadori's bed before sitting down on it carefully. You look around the room, not knowing what to do now and slightly swinging your feet. Maybe you should have just come back later, you think to yourself.

Sukuna glances at you for a moment as you sit down on Itadori’s bed. Despite you being polite, there was an obvious air of anxiety surrounding you. He just can’t tell if you are anxious about him… or if it was something else. But he did care to find out.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked down to your legs for just a brief moment before he let out a low, tired sigh and took a drag from the joint he held. “You’re one of the teacher’s pet types, ain’t ya?”

Your head whippes around to look at him, your eyes traveling up and down his body for a second before settling on his face. "We aren't allowed to smoke in the dorms. And I'm sure we aren't allowed to smoke THAT at all." You are referring to the weed he is currently consuming, coughing out a little when the smell hits your nose.

He smirks at the way you look at his body, finding it rather humorous. He thought your comment on smoking was cute, a little on the naive side, though. But hey, he preferred it if you were a little oblivious… it would make things more interesting.

“Yeah, well, we aren’t allowed to do a lot of things here, and yet… we still do them.” He takes another drag, letting the smoke waft through the room before exhaling in your direction. A smirk forming on his lips at the way you cough again.

You only scowl in confusion, trying to think about what kind of things he is referring to. Alcohol, drugs, staying out past curfew? Sex? The thought of him doing sexual stuff in this room makes you blush, your eyes darting from him to his bed for a split second. "No, we don't. Not all of us take joy in breaking rules, you know?”

He sees the way you look towards his bed for a brief, fleeting moment. And he chuckles darkly, taking another drag from his joint and slowly exhales before speaking. "Is that right, princess? I find that hard to believe. Breaking the rules is fun… you’re just too much of a goodie-two shoes to take advantage of it."

He looks you up and down again, taking in your features more closely. You are pretty… and shy, too. A delicious combo, he thought to himself.

You let out a scoff at his words. "And what do you want me to do, huh? Be more like you? Go out past curfew to some shitty bars and get drunk on a weekday? Smoke cigarettes and weed the whole day instead of going to classes? Have Sex in a rather… untidy dorm room and get myself an STD instead of studying?"

It is unusual for you to get so worked up over this. Normally, you are able to hold in your emotions better, but you had a stressful week, and he hit a nerve. Yes, you are a ‘goodie-two shoes’ but you didn't really have a choice on that matter. You had family expectations to uphold and are under a lot of pressure. As much as you wanted to, you can't just do whatever you want. It's careless and reckless, and nothing good would come out of it.

Sukuna is surprised by your little fit, but it is rather fun to watch. He lets out another chuckle as you list off everything you don’t do, listening intently and closely to what you say.

“Yeah… basically.” He says bluntly, taking another drag from his joint. “Life’s short, princess. Live it while you can. You’ll never get to experience this time again, y’know?” He smirks at you, taking a few steps forward to close in on the gap between you both.

He is standing right in front of you, towering over you while you sit on Itadori’s bed. His crotch leveling with your face, making your eyes dart down for a moment. Of course, he notices the way your eyes dart down, and he chuckles to himself, a look of wickedness growing on his face.

You look up at him with narrowed eyes, anger, and frustration clearly swirling behind your orbs. "Could you at least not be smoking weed while I am here? When Itadori comes back, we have a project to work on." You grit out through your teeth.

He took another drag from the joint before holding the smoke inside his mouth and taking another small step forward, closing the gap between you both even more now. “Aww… don’t be such a buzzkill, princess. What’s a little weed gonna do? I smoke it all the time, and I’m still fine.” He leaned down a little so he could be closer to your face.

Again, he is blowing his stupid smoke into your face, and you swear, you could already feel your head getting lighter. Was it the anger, or is it possible to get high this quick from just a few secondhand hits?

"Stop doing that!" You are clenching your jaw in frustration. "And clearly, you're not fine. Your brain definitely took damage already, seeing how you act like a defiant child. You are an arrogant ass AND you are trouble, Sukuna. Stop getting me involved with your stupid games. Get another girl for it." You huff out in annoyance after your little rant.

Sukuna chuckles at your comment, enjoying the way you are so easily annoyed and enraged. It was funny seeing you get so worked up over such trivial things, and the way your cute, angry face scrunches up when you are frustrated is like a cherry on top.

He continues to hold another blow of smoke in his mouth while you rant, not letting himself exhale quite yet. And when you finally stop, he slowly begins to speak again. The smoke leaves through his lips and wafts in the air between you. “Aww… and here I was thinking you were playing hard to get, princess.”

You are swatting the smoke away with your hand, biting back another sassy comment. "Just smoke your stuff on your side of the room." You say while pushing him away by his legs.

You crawl up on Itadori's bed and over to the window, opening it. Unknowingly, giving Sukuna a good view of your ass under the short skirt in the process. You try to breathe in some fresh air, your head buzzing like crazy.

Sukuna allows you to push him away, rolling his eyes and taking a step back, but a smirk grows on his face when you crawl over the bed. He doesn’t move from his spot, enjoying the view and watching you intently, taking in the sight of your ass.

He chuckles to himself and takes a couple more drags from the joint before tossing it into an ashtray. He smirks as he speaks. “Careful… don’t want anyone looking up and seeing you, princess. Imagine the talk around campus when you get caught with the troublesome bad boy.”

You just roll your eyes at him, and silence is falling over you two while you wait for Itadori to come back. But he never did. Not after 20 minutes and not after 30 minutes. In the meantime, Sukuna sits on his bed with an amused smile on his face.

He’s watching you, how you sit by the window, and look outside for Itadori every few minutes. He knows damn well that Itadori isn’t coming over. He had sent him a message as soon as he saw your cute little ass, to not come back until way later.

He smirks to himself and sits still for a few good minutes, just watching you as you begin to grow frustrated and worried. “Think he ain’t coming, princess.”

"Stop saying that!" You hiss, looking outside for Itadori again. "Maybe he forgot? Wouldn't be a first..." You mumble quietly to yourself before returning your gaze to Sukuna.

"Are you just going to lounge around your room for the rest of the day? It's Friday. Don't you have anything better to do?” You raise your eyebrows at him, clearly annoyed by his presence. It's his room, and you could just leave, but this project with Itadori was important, and you have to get this done today or otherwise it wouldn't fit into your schedule. Sukuna is usually out partying every fucking day but not today… something about it seems suspicious to you.

He smirks, watching as you grow more and more frustrated as time passes. It is so cute seeing you this way, completely ignorant of the fact that he is the reason Itadori isn’t here. This whole situation is his doing… and he is enjoying every minute of it.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Laze around and probably get high. And, I don’t know… have a little fun.” He chuckles again, his smirk widening as he looks over your body, his mind obviously thinking something perverted.

You lean out of the window again before closing it. Sitting on your knees on Itadori's bed, you fumble with the hem of your skirt and think about what you should do now.

You scoff at Sukuna's comment. "Of course you would. Is weed the only thing you love in life? If you weren’t so damn irritating, I would honestly feel sad for you.”

Sukuna chuckles again, a little more darkly this time. He took in your pose, sitting on your knees on the bed like a good girl, your skirt riding up just slightly as you fiddle around with it… it is quite a sight to behold, one that he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

He sits up on his bed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms behind his head as he watches you on the bed at the other side of the room, a smirk still on his face. “You say it like it’s a bad thing, princess. Weed is fun. You’d know that if you weren’t so… straight-edged.”

His words aren't really registering. Your mind is still focused on how you would be able to finish this project today if Itadori doesn't show up. "Well, I guess I would have to try it to know..." You say absentmindedly.

That catches his attention. His head perks up when you say that, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he smirks a little. “Oh, yeah? You have to try it, huh? Well… I got plenty of stuff here I could let you try.” He sat up properly on the bed, looking at you intently as he spoke, waiting to gauge your reaction.

You shake your head out of your own thoughts and look at him in disbelief, your face scrunching in confusion. "What? What are you talking about? I would never take this stuff. It messes with your head." You give him another eye roll. "And even if I would ever try smoking, you would be the last person I wanna hit my first blunt with, Sukuna.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way you react to his suggestion. He watches the confusion and disbelief slowly morph onto your cute face, another smirk growing on his own as he speaks again. “Messes with your head?”

He laughs at that, amused by the fact that you didn’t know the first thing to do with marijuana. “Oh come on, princess… it’s not that bad. And I could take real good care of you… you’d never know the first thing about gettin’ high… Let me teach ya.”

"Take care of me, huh?" You raise an eyebrow at the innuendo behind his offer. Your eyes are darting from him to the ashtray, lingering on the remains of the joint he was smoking earlier. You look back at him, a scowl on your face. "You can't even take care of yourself, Sukuna.”

He shrugs his shoulders at your comment. He couldn’t argue with that. You had a point there. He probably couldn’t take good care of himself even if he tried. But you… he’d take real good care of you… At least he liked to think he would.

“Eh, maybe I can’t. But I think I’m good at taking care of… other people. I’m real good with my hands, y’know.” He smirks again, his gaze lingering over your body.

"I would sure hope so, seeing all you do with your fingers is rolling blunts the whole day." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "Stupid Itadori…" You mutter to yourself.

He chuckles at your comment, knowing damn well that you are right. He did spend most of his time rolling things with his fingers.

Then you suddenly stand up and make your way over to his bed, sitting down on it with a huff. Getting more comfortable next to him with your skirt riding up in the process. "So~, how does this work, huh?”

He has to admit, you are looking real cute, the way you hop up from the bed and sit down on his, your skirt riding up, so that a bit more of your thighs are showing. He’s getting more excited and enticed as you sit down beside him, your body so close to his. “Alright, princess, lemme teach ya a thing or two about smokin’. First off, you gotta come closer. You’re too far away for me to teach you properly.”

He just puts his arms around your waist and manhandles you to sit between his legs, your back flush against his chest. "I don't think this is a proper position..." You state quietly but don't make any attempt to actually stop him.

He chuckles as he grabs you and moves you to his liking, his laugh turning to a smirk as he leans forward a little and puts his chin on your shoulder, his lips right next to your ear as he whispers to you.

“Nah… I think it’s the perfect position for… teaching. It’s so I can show you everything real easily, princess.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you even closer to him, basically trapping you in his hold now.

You look over your shoulder at him. Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "And- and what do I do now?" Your voice is barely above a husky whisper, a little bit of curiosity mixed with anxiety and insecurity lying beneath.

He smirks as his face gets closer to your own, staring deeply into your eyes. You look so innocent, so… naive. You have no idea what you are about to get yourself into. “For now? Just relax. It’ll be a small hit at first. Nothin’ too bad, okay, princess?”

He lets go of your waist with one hand, reaching over to the table beside the bed. He grabs a new joint and a lighter, quickly flicking it on and lighting up the end of the blunt.

He takes a hit and lets the smoke hang in the air between you, your nose crinkles when you take in the smell. You reach out to take the joint out of his fingertips, concentrating on not letting it fall down with how nervous you are. Your eyes flicker to his for reassurance before lifting the joint to your lips.

He chuckles as he watches you try to take your first hit. You look nervous and anxious, your hand trembling a little as you take the joint delicately from his hands. He smirks as he gets a good glimpse at you, you're so cute it's almost unfair to do what he had planned.

When you inhale for the first time, you immediately start a coughing fit and look at him over your shoulder with a pout.

He laughs out loud when you start to cough up a storm and takes the joint out of your hands for another hit. “Oh princess… I know you’re not experienced with this but goddamn, you coughed like crazy. C’mon… try again.”

You are still coughing a little bit, letting out a huff of air and denying the joint he holds up for you to take again.. You try to stand up from your position between his legs, shuffling forward and away from him, your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself as you scoot forward. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea, maybe I should just-"

He chuckles when you start to stand up from your spot, and the feeling of your hands on his thighs made him grow even more excited for what the night could hold. He quickly reaches out and grabs your hips, pulling you back down so that you were sitting between his legs again.

“Nah… I think you should give it another shot, princess. It ain’t gonna get better if you don’t try more than once.” He wraps his arms around your waist again, holding you in place.

You let out a small whine, clearly embarrassed that it didn't work out well the first time. "Sukuna, please~" You look back into his eyes, your pout only intensifying. "Maybe some people are just not born to do this and maybe I am one of those people..."

Your hands instinctively hold onto his forearm, which is securely placed around your waist, for comfort. You don't even notice you are pressing your back into his chest a little more.

He smirks as you whine and look at him, pouting. You look so good, in every sense of the word, it's almost too much to handle. Seeing how embarrassed you are about trying and failing at something was just… adorable. He loves the way you are so helpless… it gives him too much power over you.

When you begin to nuzzle into his chest, he chuckles at how innocent and adorable you are. He holds you just a bit tighter, your little body now trapped against his own. “Nonsense, princess… you’re not a quitter, are you? C’mon… just give it one more try.”

You try two more times, slowly getting better at it, but your lungs are still not used to the smoke. By the third try, you're coughing just a tiny little bit after your hit. Your mind is a little bit fuzzy and dead set on making this work eventually.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" You look at him with a bright smile full of excitement, clearly wanting him to praise you for getting better.

He chuckles again, enjoying the way you are so determined to keep going. You are doing better each time, and after some time, you are almost able to hold it in without coughing.

He takes the joint out of your hand and takes a hit of it himself before leaning down and blowing the smoke to your lips, watching your reaction as your mind slowly begins to get a little more hazy. “See? You’re a natural, princess… you’re gonna be smokin’ like a pro in no time.”

You had a pleased smile on your face, your eyes crinkling a little, and a blush involuntarily creeps up your cheeks. You already feel more relaxed and lean yourself back against Sukuna. It feels good to just lay in his arms, somehow safe and secure.

"But still not perfect." You huff out. You are a perfectionist and would not give up until you have this down perfectly. "Let me try another!" You exclaim enthusiastically, turning around a little over your shoulder to look at him. His crimson red eyes are beautiful. You never noticed how much they stand out to his usual appearance and get lost in them for a moment before your gaze flickers down to his lips briefly.

He smiles, watching as you begin to relax. He loves the feeling of your body against his own, the way you were so comfortable and trusting with him. He could get used to this very easily.

He raises an eyebrow when you ask to try again, a smirk growing on his face when you turn around and look at him. He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up, and he couldn’t help but bite back a chuckle. It seems like the weed was affecting you…

"How about we try something to help you hold it in, huh?”

"Yes, I wanna!" He couldn't even finish his explanation on what you're going to do when you interrupt him eagerly.

He is shuffling you around like you weighed nothing at all until you are sitting next to him, pressed into his side and your legs now thrown over his lap, your arms automatically go to wrap around his bizeps. You are looking at his every move intensely and waiting for him to tell you what to do next. Letting your eyes roam his figure in the process.

His smirk grows into a smile when your excitement gets the better of you. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when you instantly jumped into the position he wanted. You looked so cute and eager, like a puppy ready for a treat. He looked at you intently before speaking, his voice low and deep as he spoke to you. “Now, all you gotta do is open your mouth, and I’ll help you take that hit nice and smoothly…”

You nod your head ‘yes’ frantically, ready for whatever comes next. Or at least you thought so...

He watches as you nod your head, the look of excitement on your face filling him with a sense of pride. You look so willing to do whatever he told you to do, and he loves that about you. He loves how you listen to him like a good girl, how you want to please him. It is so cute and adorable, and it only serves to rile him up more.

His free hand comes up and holds your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to make you look at him. His thumb runs over your bottom lip, and you comply immediately, parting your lips for him.

Sukuna takes a hit from the joint, leaning in closer and connects your lips in a slow kiss, shotgunning the smoke into your mouth and making you take it. He immediately slips his tongue between your lips, blowing the smoke towards your mouth and making sure to keep the kiss going. No coughing, no interrupting the kiss. Instead, your hand finds the back of his head, returning the kiss more eagerly.

He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling you return it with just as much enthusiasm, your hand going to the back of his head to pull him closer. He loves how eager you are. It really was too cute.

The kiss keeps going, the smoke slowly going up between you two when you exhale into his mouth. You shuffle into a new position, straddling his lap and sitting on top of him, your lips never parting.

He could feel himself getting more and more worked up the longer the kiss went on, his hands going to your hips and gripping them as you straddle his lap, sitting on top of him now. He couldn’t believe how eager you are, even making the next step on your own accord. You look so cute and adorable, all hazy and happy.

When he finally breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours, you are breathing heavily. Your eyes glazed over with the effects of the drug and a lazy smile spreading across your face. "Didn't cough once. I like this method." You whisper against his lips.

He chuckles and smiles against your lips when you tell him you didn’t cough once, looking into your eyes and seeing how clouded they are. You are really beginning to feel the effects now. "No, you didn’t cough at all… you did perfectly.”

You chuckle at his praise, leaning back with one arm still around his neck and the other taking the joint from him. Bringing it to your lips, taking a deep hit, and blowing the smoke straight into his face. Your eyes holding his gaze the whole time. "So… What's the next step?”

He just watches as you lean back, taking the joint from him and lifting it to your lips, taking another hit, and then blowing the smoke directly into his face. It caught him a little off guard, not gonna lie, and he couldn’t deny that it… really turned him on. Especially with the way you looked at him with that cute, hazy expression on your face.

He smirks at your question, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter and pulling you closer to him. "Next? Well... I think you deserve a little reward, don't you? All of this just made me want one thing, and I know you’re gonna enjoy it too.”

You smile at him, taking another hit and connecting your lips in another kiss again, blowing the smoke directly into his mouth. He returns the kiss hungrily, making you moan into the kiss.

The feeling of your lips against his once more, the smoke entering his system as you push it deep into his mouth, causes him to let out a low growl. He happily returns the kiss, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, taking in all the smoke you blew into his mouth as he deepens the kiss. He is craving you, wanting to feel more of you, and he wasn’t about to let this little moment go to waste.

He smirks into the kiss as he takes the joint from you, taking one final hit before putting it out in the ashtray on the nearby nightstand. In one swift movement, he flips you over onto your back, now hovering over you on the bed and staring down at you with a hungry and lustful look in his eyes. "Such a good girl, you deserve a nice, big reward, don't you?”

The one hand that isn't still holding onto the back of his neck comes up to trace along the tattoos of his jawline. Your eyes take in his appearance on top of you, the way his eyes are just a shade darker with lust, his jaw clenched because he has to hold himself back, the way his tattoos are standing out against his skin. He looks mesmerizing, and you wonder how you never noticed how handsome he really is before.

He feels the way your hand traces over the tattoos on his jaw, feeling your eyes roam over his face. He knows you could feel the way he was holding back, how much he wants you, and how badly he was trying to hold himself back from just… pouncing on you right then and there. He can see the way your eyes look at him, and it only made him even more eager to break you completely. He couldn’t help but smirk down at you. "You like what you see, princess?”

You let out a hum, confirming his statement without realizing it, and you have to actively pry your eyes from his features to look back into his eyes again. Your pupils are blown wide from the high, and your head feels cloudy. It was a strange feeling but somehow… For once… everything feels perfect.

"Sukuna?" Your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. "You will take care of me, right? Really good care, I mean? I'm not really experienced in these kinds of things, so…”

He can't help but smirk at your response, the way you don’t even realize that you are so openly admiring his appearance. You are so high already, so gone, that you aren’t even fully aware of what you are saying. He couldn’t get enough of seeing you in this state, so vulnerable and completely at his mercy. It makes him want to do all kinds of things to you… all kinds of things no one has ever done to you before.

The way you ask if he would take care of you, he loves how submissive you are right now. "Of course, princess. I’ll take good care of you, I’ll make sure you’re all nice and safe with me. I won’t be too rough, okay?”

You shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in dislike at the thought of him holding back for you. You don't want that. "No. Don't hold back, please. I don't want you to hold back. You- you can be rough with me. Can do to me whatever you want, Sukuna."

Your mind is clouded, and so is your judgment. You aren't a virgin anymore. You just never went past that first time in high school, and right now, you want to experience more. More with him and act like a normal reckless college girl for once. At least for tonight, you want to let yourself go, not having to think too much about life and its problems and give the power over to someone else. You already got so far. You couldn't back down now. You didn't want to back down now.

The way you shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in disapproval at the idea of him holding back for you, it makes him grin like the cocky bastard he is. He could tell that you are high and probably aren’t thinking straight, but he doesn’t care. He loves that you are begging him to lose control, to give in to his primal side, to take what he wants in a completely feral and rough way. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into…but he was happy to show you.

The idea of you letting him do whatever he wants with you is way too enticing, and he will definitely be taking advantage of it. He is going to make you his. "You sure, princess? You wanna be my little doll tonight?”

"Yes." It is a simple answer that doesn't need much explanation. "Just- just tell me what to do, please." Your voice a hushed whisper.

He smirks as you answer, a single yes being all he needs to know you want this. He knows that your mind is clouded and that you aren’t making the best decisions, that you are under the influence of the drugs, but he couldn’t care less. You are willingly giving yourself to him, asking him to take control, and he is going to make sure you feel it. "Take off your clothes for me, nice and slow. Okay, princess?”

He is removing himself from you, taking his place on the bed with his back against the wall. You slowly lift yourself up, standing in front of the bed and looking around the room for a second. On shaky legs, you walk to the small music box on his desk, putting on some random sultry music and turning around to him with a small smile. You take off your clothes, give him a show in the process, and dance to the music. You're giving him something you could compare to a sloppy first time strip tease, a few cute little giggles and chuckles leaving your lips as you stumble around and lose yourself in the moment, the drugs helping you to relax and take away the pressure of your life.

Sukuna smirks as you stand up from the bed and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you walk across the room, the way your legs tremble from being so high and the little smile on your face. He sits back, resting against the wall with his legs sprawled out in front of him as he watches you, seeing you completely stripping down in front of him. He loves the way you move to the music, completely lost in your own little world as you give him a private show.

He watches you move, laughing and giggling, and he is already getting more and more worked up. When you are completely naked, you walk over to him. He is offering you his hand to take, and you do without questioning while crawling back into his lap again.

When he feels your hand slide into his own, the smirk on his face is growing, and his hands immediately go to your hip, resting on your waist and holding you against him.

Once you are seated, you look into his eyes for a second before burying your head in the crook of his neck, giving him small little kisses along the skin. "Was that nice and slow enough for you? I did a good job, didn't I?" You murmur against his neck, looking for approval.

Your soft kisses along his skin are making him let out a deep breath. "Yeah, you did a good job, princess. Such an obedient little thing, you look so perfect like this, don’t you? Sitting pretty in my lap, all naked and ready for me."

If you had been in the right state of mind, you probably would have been embarrassed. Begging for approval so desperately, and it's kinda sad if you think about why you behave like this. Why you search for approval from the people around you so much and strive for perfection in everything you do. But right now, under the influence of the drug, you don't care about anything but him and his hands on your skin spreading a fire in their wake.

He could tell that you aren’t quite yourself, the good little college sunshine, finding herself all lewd and naked in the lap of someone like him. You definitely wouldn't be in this state if sober. You are so needy and submissive right now, it is nice to see how much you crave him, how much you need his validation but he doesn’t mention it, he knows you are too far gone to even register it anyways. You only care about him right now, and he loves the way his touch feels on your body. It almost makes him feel bad for taking advantage of your fucked up psychological issues, that probably led you into his arms in the first place. Almost…

"Pretty unfair, it seems, don't you think so?" You say, leaning back in his lap and tugging at his shirt, wanting it gone already. Your eyes are roaming over his body, wondering how many tattoos are hiding under that shirt of his.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as you lean back and start messing with his shirt, tugging at it and making it clear you want it gone. Your eyes are still cloudy from the drug, and he could see you looking at his body. He smirks at your comment, tilting his head to look at you with a mischievous grin on his face. "Unfair, hm? What do you mean? Tell me, princess, what’s unfair?”

Nonetheless, he removes his shirt, and your breath is catching in your throat when you finally lay eyes on his bare torso. There are more tattoos than you anticipated, and judging by the lines of ink that are hiding beneath the fabric of his pants, there are even more you haven't seen yet.

It got you excited, the thought of touching him. His touch feels like heaven on your skin. Every sense of yours heightened because of the drug, and you wonder if he would feel like you when your fingers finally make contact with his bare skin.

He can feel your breath hitch as his shirt comes off, your eyes taking in the sight of his bare torso and the way all the tattoos he has on his arms and face continue down and cover a good portion of his chest and stomach. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, and you obviously want to touch him, to feel him, and he looks at you with a knowing smirk on his face. "Go on, princess, you can touch them, you know?”

Your hand reaches out to touch him but is stopping midair. "Would it feel good for you? My touch, I mean. Would it feel as good as yours on me?" You wonder.

"Your touch feels so different on my skin, like…like electricity running through every vein. It's the drug, I know, but- Would it feel the same for you? Even though you are used to this feeling? I mean, can you even get used to this? Everything is so..." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you throw it back with a moan in the middle of your drug-induced ramble when his hands start rubbing up and down your waist. The hand that was still in between your two bodies is now placed flat against his sternum.

He watches as your hand pauses in the air, just inches away from his body, clearly wanting to feel him. He listens to you ramble about how his touch feels on your skin. He loves how you describe it as electricity, running through every vein. He can't help but touch you, feel up the curves of your perfect body. The way your head tips back and the sound of that beautiful moan gets him going like nothing else since quite some time. You are clearly having a great time under the influence.

"Yeah, princess, I’m used to this feeling. But I can still appreciate how good it feels..." He replies in a low voice. His hands continue to slowly roam up and down your body.

After that, your hands instinctively reach out to lay themselves flat against his chest before roaming from his pecs to his shoulders and down to grasp at his bizeps, holding on for dear life. Your hips start to grind down against him, letting out a hiss at the way the fabric of his pants feels against your bare core.

He loves the way you can’t seem to keep your hands off of his body, feeling your hands move across his bare chest and down to his biceps, gripping onto them and holding on like you are scared to let go. He feels the way your hips start to grind against him, your body desperate for friction, and he can’t help but let out a deep, low growl in answer to your needy whine.

"So beautiful~. Like your tattoos so much, S'kuna." You whimper out, taking in all of his flexing muscles and tattoos again. Your eyes are half lidded and glazed over with tears from the overwhelmingly heightened feeling of everything that's happening.

He chuckles at your comment, loving how you are clearly overwhelmed by everything going on, your eyes taking in every inch of him. You are out of it, and he enjoys every second of it. "Yeah, princess?”

"What next? Need more, please~. What am I supposed to do next?" Your hands fly around his neck again, playing with the strands of his hair, and you pull him a bit closer, leaning your forehead against his, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent.

He can tell you are getting impatient, the way you keep grinding your hips against him and cling onto him, clearly wanting more, asking for more. He loves seeing you like this, so dependent, so needy, unable to think for yourself and needing him to tell you what to do next.

He brings his hands to your hips, gently grasping them tightly and keeping you from grinding against him any further as he leans his forehead against yours. He chuckles at your needy tone and places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before standing up with you in his arms.

You cling to him like a koala when he suddenly starts standing up and walks the two of you over to his desk, sitting you down on top of it. Opening the drawer and getting out a condom, holding it between his teeth while he opens his pants and leaves them discarded on the floor together with his underwear.

He could see the look in your eyes, the way they dart down to take in the sight of him, and he couldn’t help but feel smug when he saw your reaction. You gulp seeing him bare for the first time, your eyes darting down before he lifts up your chin with two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him and not anything else.

You look into his eyes before they quickly dart to the condom, still stuck between his teeth and up to his eyes again. You honestly don't know where you found the confidence. Maybe it was the drug, but who cares... One of your hands was slowly traveling down from his chest to his abdomen before going even lower and wrapping your small hand around the base of his cock, trying your best to please him with your hands. Your eyes are on his the whole time and you bite your lips when he lets out a groan.

He lets out a low growl as your hand creeps lower and lower, and his gaze darkens as he watches you bite down on your lip while he lets out another deep groan. "Princess, what are you-”

Your other hand snatches the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. "Can we please move this further faster? Want to feel you all over me. Just everywhere, please."

You try to convince him with your desperate pleas and a pout on your face, wanting to feel that amazing electric tingle again when he touches your skin. You can only imagine how amazing he will feel inside of you. All over you, clouding every nerve ending in your body with his presence.

He is completely caught off guard when you snatch the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. He is about to say something, but your desperate pleas stop him. The pout on your face and the way you plead for him to move things forward makes his mind cloud over with lust and desire for you.

"Sukuna… I'm ready. I just want to feel you, please~."

It's all he needs to hear, chuckling at your eagerness before gripping at your hips, pulling you forward to the edge of the table. His hands are going to part your legs, almost aggressively pushing them apart, before rubbing the tip of his member through your folds a few times. He takes the condom from you, his eyes not leaving the spot between your thighs.

"Yeah, princess, we can move on. You're still sure I don't need to be gentle?" When all he gets is a strangled whine of his name, he takes it as a yes and quickly puts on the condom with practiced ease before lining himself up and with a last cocky smirk, he’s pushing forward while looking at your face, wanting to gauge your every reaction.

The sensation takes your breath away, the mix of pleasure and pain makes you grip tightly at his bizeps again, and your nails dig into his skin, deep. Your vision goes black for a second from the sheer size your body desperately tries to accommodate. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, a loud lewd moan of his name leaving your lips, and your head tips forward against his chest. For a moment, you think you're able to see the gates of heaven...or was it hell? You don't know, and you definitely don't care as long as the feeling will stay.

He is taken aback by the sharp sting on his skin when you cling onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin so deep he is sure they'll leave marks. He can feel your breath hit his chest as you lean onto him, the sound of his name from your lips like music to his ears.

He's lifting your head from his chest with a tight grip on your jaw, looking into your dilated pupils with a smug smirk. He's enjoying how overwhelmed you are. You are beautiful and he can't believe he's actually fucking the good little rich girl everyone around campus adores like a common whore on his desk. He's taking in the sight of you before he bends himself over you, resting his other hand down onto the table to support himself as he begins to move against you, his chest pressed against yours.

He's setting a relentless pace from the start, not caring to give you a minute to breathe or considering your inexperience. You feel so damn fucking tight around him, he thinks he's loosing his mind. You look way too good like this and he shouldn't enjoy this as much as he is. You're just another name on his long list of different girls, a pretty little girl for a quick fuck. But he has to admit, you're a good one.

"Fuck! Feels so good S'kuna" You are not a person to use swear words but in the past minutes of him pounding into your tight walls countless swears, pleas, moans and whines left your lips. You just can't hold back, your whole body feels like it is on fire, every touch of his setting you ablaze. Your hands cling to him desperately, your lips connecting in heated kisses again and again until one of you runs out of breath and you could feel your impending orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"So good, princess." He mutters against your lips, returning your kisses, each one more frenzied than the last, the two of you only breaking apart when you run out of breath before he's diving back in, not getting enough of you. He can feel your body trembling against his, your desperate hands clinging to him as if you are afraid he would disappear.

He feels your orgasm building up, and he knows you are close, the way your body trembles, and your muscles tighten around him. You're holding him in a vice like grip, almost making it hard for him to move in and out. You really want him to lose his damn mind, don't you? He grips your hips, increasing his pace, pushing both of you closer and closer to the edge.

You fall apart, and he is right behind you, riding out the waves of pleasure for the both of you with shallow thrusts. Your lips are still connected in needy kisses before leaning his forehead against yours.

He watches as your body trembles and shakes, coming undone completely. He feels your lips on his, both of you too desperate to let each other go just yet, not needing to break apart to catch your breath. He drinks everything in, every little reaction of yours. The way your nose scrunches up and your eyebrows furrow together, how your hazy eyes seem to roll back into your head behind your shut lids, your breaths stuttering in moans that he immediately swallows up in another ray of kisses, tasting you like a starved man.

But he still didn't leave you any time to catch your breath. Throwing away the condom in the trash can under his desk before lifting you off the table. He's holding you stable with one hand around your waist and quickly gets rid of all things lying on the table before bending you over it, his hand firmly pressed against your spine to keep you down. Grabbing a new condom and going right back to where you two left off.

Sukuna inserts himself in one swift motion. The stretch is still a pleasurable pain, but with how your wetness is currently dripping down your legs and after your first orgasm, he has it now way easier to bully his length inside you without much restraint.

Everything is so overwhelming. You forget to actually breathe. Your hands desperately cling to the edge of the table for stability, your legs shaking terribly. Your hips are probably bruised already from the force with which they are being pushed against the edge of the table again and again. The only thing keeping you somewhat grounded is his hand on your back.

He could see you clinging to the edge of the table, your legs shaking and trembling in an attempt to keep yourself stable. He knew your hips will most likely show those beautiful bruises in the morning from the force he was using to push your body against the edge and his strong grip during everything that had already happened and will happen tonight. He could tell you are getting overwhelmed, struggling to even remember how to breathe, and he has no plans of making it any easier for you any time soon. Drugs or not, Sukuna was always at the top of his game.

"Breathe, princess. Don't forget to breathe." He said in a low voice, his tone slightly teasing as he continued his onslaught on your poor pussy.

"I try! I really do! I'm trying but-" You cut off your own words with a hiccup, trying to get at least some air into your lungs but the way his hips move and he repeatedly hits that one perfect spot inside your gummy walls has you reeling. He's everywhere. The only things on your mind are his hands on your body and the way he moves against you.

You can feel yourself tightening up again, the pleasure building up incredibly fast and the knot in your stomach tightening painfully and needing release. One of his hands grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you flush against his chest.

He chuckles at how easy you are, nipping at your ear before whispering in a rough voice. "Cmon, princess. I know you can do it, just a little bit more, don't pass out on me yet."

One of your hands comes up to grab at the wrist of the hand he had currently entangled in your hair. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, moans and strangled breaths, leaving your open mouth constantly, and there is a little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth.

He smirks as one of your hands comes up to grab at his wrist, your head falling back against him as you let out a steady stream of moans and breaths, which occasionally became strangled and hiccupped. He could see the little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth as you try to keep yourself from passing out and he presses a small kiss against the corner of your lips, letting his tongue dart out to lick the drool from your pretty lips before he suddenly shoves two of his fingers inside your mouth.

"Bite me, and I'll bite you back, princess." He warns in a low voice, his tone rough and just as breathless as your own.

His long and slender fingers in your mouth are making you gag, and this is all you need to be pushed over the edge. Before his sentence even registers in your lust and weed clouded brain you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood in your mouth makes you hum out as you come down from your high but Sukuna is not stopping and immediately you can feel yourself getting close to finishing again.

He groans as you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood seeping into your mouth, making you hum out in pleasure, clearly enjoying yourself and sending a wave of pleasure through him in return. Feeling the way your body trembles and convulses as you come down from your high, but he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

Sukuna kept grinding in and out of you, hitting every spot perfectly. Your pussy a perfect fit for his long and girthy cock and he doesn't want to stop. He can't, not before he feels you come undone at least a dozen times more and so he pushes you into overstimulation, taking you over the edge again and again.

Your head falls back against the table, his hand still in your hair and pressing your cheek down against it and you think you might actually die from the way he draws out one orgasm after the other without stopping, without giving you time to breathe and recover. His other hand makes its way to your sensitive bundle of nerves, and just the simple action of pressing his thumb against it makes you convulse and cry out in another wave of pleasure. Finally, he comes after holding himself off for an almost painful amount of time, drawn over the edge with you, and a loud and guttural groan leaves his mouth right into your ear.

He gently removes his fingers from your mouth and wraps his arms around you right under your chest, pulling you close to him and whispering in your ear. "You did good, princess.”

Both your breathing is ragged, the two of you collapsing onto the desk in exhaustion and contentment, and his weight on top of you is helping you through the feeling of emptiness after he pulls out. He is pressing light kisses along your shoulder blades until you calm down. "Come on, princess, you need a hit. Nothing's better than a little something after a good fuck, huh?"

He removes himself from you completely, letting go of you and stepping back, making you collapse onto the floor with a thud as your weak and trembling legs are giving out under you while you still try to breathe.

He chuckles slightly at your current state, watching you struggle to breathe sitting on the floor. "You alright, princess?" He asks, grabbing a joint and a lighter.

He stands in front of you and looks down, his head tilted slightly and a cocky grin on his face. He lights up the joint and inhales before squatting next to you. He blows the smoke straight into your face and holds the joint into your direction, a silent invitation to take it. You take the joint with trembling hands and get a deep hit. The sensation of smoke filling your lungs is making you close your eyes for a second. Then he lifts you up, walks to the bed, and sits you down onto his lap again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and holding you close.

You take another hit, letting the smoke out slowly before taking the two fingers he had stuffed in your mouth earlier between your lips, sucking them in and swirling around them with your tongue. Tasting his blood for a second time is making you hum out again. "I'm sorry about that." You say, still kitten-licking his fingers.

He chuckles as he watches you take another hit, the smoke slowly leaving your lips and your body completely relaxed. He raises his eyebrows as you start sucking on his fingers, your tongue lapping at them and swirling around them, tasting the blood again. He lets out a low sigh when you speak, your gentle apology muffled as you continue licking his fingers. "It's alright, princess. A little bit of pain can be good sometimes.”

"You said you'd bite back." You giggle. "I'd like you to, you know? To bite back, I mean… Would be nice to take a mark with me. Something to remind me of today." Your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his.

He chuckles when you bring up the fact that he said he would bite back. "Are you sure? I bite pretty hard, princess. I don't usually hold back." He says in a low, rough tone. He then notices how your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his, and he could sense the vulnerability in your voice. "Where do you want me to mark you, princess? Somewhere people can see it? Somewhere only I can see it?”

Your head perks up at his sentences. "Can we do both?" You ask curiously, your eyes wide and gleaming with excitement. "Would be nice to show it off to others, I definitely want to do that, but I also want to have something for only the two of us. Something nobody knows. A secret…”

He smirks at your eager question, amused by your excitement. "Of course we can do both, princess. I like the idea of you showing off to others, and I like the idea of having something just for us even more."

He lifts your chin up, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck. He runs his strong, rough hand along your soft, delicate skin, his gaze fixated on you. "The question is, where should we put these bite marks? Any specific places you have in mind, princess?”

"How about we choose one each? Would that be okay for you? I think I already know where I want to have the one I can show off to others..." You look into his eyes, just watching him as he smokes the joint.

He nods at your suggestion, finding the idea of choosing one each to be appealing. "That works for me, princess. I like the sound of that. Why don't you go first and tell me where you want your 'showing off' bite mark to be."

He takes another hit from the joint, his gaze still fixated on you as he exhales the smoke and you take his hand in yours and guide it slowly from the nape of your neck to the expanse of your collarbone. "It's visible enough to peek out under the uniform but not enough to get me in trouble with the school board." You giggle at the thought. "Although I suspect that thanks to you, I will get into trouble more often in the future, huh?”

He watches as you guide his hand to your collarbone, the placement being both visible and discreet enough. He chuckles at your question, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "Oh, princess, you can count on it. I have a feeling we're going to cause plenty of trouble together in the future." He says, his tone suggestive and playful.

You shuffle a little closer in his lap. Your core deliciously rubbing against his twitching cock in the process, making you exhale a breath. You take the joint from his hands taking a last hit before stubbing it out in the ashtray. Looking into his eyes again, your hands are sneaking around his neck, playing with his pinkish hair as you lean in and expose your neck for him.

He watches as you shuffle closer to him. The way your lower bodies rub against each other is making him respond with a new wave of desire, and a low growl escapes his lips. His gaze darkens as you expose your neck to him, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he leans in, his breath hot against your skin.

He starts off slowly, the kisses on your skin light and teasing, his lips softly ghosting over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. When his teeth finally sink into your skin, you can't hold back the breathy moan from escaping your mouth. Your hands are tightening in the strands of his hair and pushing him closer, not wanting him to stop until he draws blood, just like you did, until everyone would know what you two did.

The moment his teeth sink into your skin, feeling you shiver and moan, he knows there was no turning back now. "Don't stop. Feels so good..."

You must be a masochist because the feeling of his teeth on your neck, feeling the blood trickling out of the wound just to get licked up by his tongue, made you incredibly aroused. Your hips are starting to slowly grind against him, making his hands on your hips tighten their hold, and Sukuna continues to kiss and suck and bite bruises into your beautiful smooth skin.

He could feel your body responding to his, grinding against him as he lapped at the blood on your neck. "Good girl..." He whispers, his voice low and sultry.

"Need you, Sukuna. Need you again..." Your hips are still grinding into his, and you can tell that you are not the only one getting aroused again. "Can I- Can I take control this time, please?" You had the desperate desire to feel him again, wanting to make him feel good. Make the two of you feel good, hoping that despite his obvious dominant demeanor, he would allow you to stay on top this time.

When you ask to take control this time, he can see the desperate need in your eyes, and he was powerless to deny you. "Of course you can, princess. You can have as much control as you want. Take the lead and show me what you got, hm?"

He leans back, his hands on your hips loosening their grip, giving you the reins. He looks at you expectantly, his expression somewhere between eager and curious, and you don't need to be told twice when he reaches out for a condom from the nightstand and hands it over to you.

“How many of those do you have conveniently laying around, huh?" You ask, slightly amused as you take a hold of Sukuna's cock, slowly dragging it along your wetness before rolling on the condom and keeping eye contact the whole time.

He chuckles when you take the condom from him, a smirk on his face. "Aww, are you jealous?" He teases, his voice lighthearted. "Don't worry, princess, let's just say I have enough to keep us busy for a long, long time." He chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You're sinking down slowly, teasing the both of you with your slow movement and when you finally sit down on top of him, you close your eyes in bliss, feeling him even deeper inside your gut than in the other positions before.

He couldn't help but let out a low, content hiss as you slid down on him, your movements slow and deliberate. His eyes dark with desire and his hands gripping your hips tightly as he watches you take him fully, the feeling of your body clenching around him sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

You start rocking your hips slowly, gauging his every expression and finding out what would feel good for not only you but him too before falling into a steady rhythm shortly after. The two of you are lost in pleasure, and soon enough, you are consumed by one another once again. Sharing hungry kisses and hands all over each other. "So good, S'kuna. So deep...so big…”

He watches you intently, his expression one of pure lust as you rock your hips against him. He relishes every little movement you make, every sound that escapes your lips, every expression that flashes across your face. Before long, he is lost in a world of ecstasy, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you, desperate to pull you closer to him. As you whisper those sweet words in his ear, he can't help but respond, his voice low and strained. "You feel so good, princess... So tight... So perfect.”

You are so lost into your own little world that neither of you notice the keys rattling in the lock. The door opens to a rather tipsy Itadori Yuji."Yo, Sukuna, you wouldn't believe what Choso told me, we went out and-." Itadori is standing in the doorway, shocked and watching the two of us shamelessly. Itadori's words die in his throat as he takes in the scene before him. You, riding Sukuna, the two of you completely consumed by each other and the high.

Sukuna looks at him with a cocky grin on his face, just raising an eyebrow. "Can't you knock, brat?”

You look over as well and hold eye contact for a moment while your hips are not stopping their movement. You couldn't stop, even if you wanted to, with the way Sukuna's hands kept grabbing at your hips and helping you move. You bring your gaze back onto Sukuna and his body before demanding his attention back with a whine.

Sukuna doesn't even bother to cover you up before your desperate whine brings his focus back to you, and he couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at his younger roommate. Without taking his eyes off of you, he calls out to him. “Close the door, idiot."

As soon as Itadori closes the door behind him, Sukuna's hands on your hips stop your movement. The action makes you let out a frustrated whine. He just stares at you for a moment, his gaze flickering to the mark on your shoulder before a wicked grin spreads across your face.

He flips you over, hovering above you and giving one quick kiss to your lips before moving down the bed, putting your thighs over his shoulders with his face inches away from your private parts. "I'm not done with you yet, princess. Remember when I said I bite hard? Well, let me show you where I plan to leave our little secret.”

Without further warning, he sinks his teeth into your upper inner thigh. The pleasurable pain causes your back to arch from the bed. Instinctively you try to wriggle out of his hold but it was no use, he had you locked in place with his hands around your thighs, one splayed out over your stomach and the other gripping your hips bruisingly. Your hands grip at the strands of his hair and a loud cry leaves your mouth when you come undone from Sukuna leaving his imprint on you, surprising the both of you with just how sensitive you actually are right now.

He still holds you down firmly, not letting you get away as his teeth sink deep into your thigh, leaving behind a bite that will turn into a beautiful bruising mark. Feeling your body writhing in pleasure beneath him, he can't help but chuckle against your skin. "Did you just come from that, princess?”

Sukuna looks up at you, a satisfied grin on his face. The mark he had left on your thigh is already starting to bruise. He runs his tongue lightly over the mark, savoring the taste of your skin and making you moan out again. Only when he is satisfied, he sits back, admiring his handiwork. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, your body quivering with aftershocks, and he leans over you, his lips hovering just above yours, a self-satisfied smile on your face.

"We need to do stuff like this more often." You say with a breathless chuckle. Putting your thighs around his hips, pulling him down a bit with pleading eyes, begging for him to make you feel good again.

Sukuna just sits on his heels and takes in the view of the mark he left on your thigh. It was beautiful, deep and dark, a sure sign that you are his. Your body is trembling, and he smiles down at your words, his chest puffing up with pride. He lets out a low growl of approval, running his hands up your body again before leaning down and connecting you in a deep kiss. "Yeah, we definitely should.”

He immediately sinks back into you, rocking his hips against yours at a harsh brutal pace. His hands are everywhere, and your tongues are tangled with each other, not stopping, not even for breathing. You are both desperate, desperate to feel good, desperate to make the other one feel good, desperate to have more even though it feels like it will never be enough.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, his hips slapping hard into the back of your thighs and your mouths and hands never staying still. Both of you are lost in a world solely made for the two of you. The air is heavy with the sounds of labored breaths, the whispers of voices, the sounds of bodies as they come together over and over. His touches are hungry and demanding, his words possessive and primal.

When he feels your body starting to tense and shiver, hinting at your impending release, he lifts your hips up, pressing your thighs close to your chest, the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure.

It didn't take long for you to fall over the edge, and he is following right behind, collapsing on top of you. The two of you are breathing heavily, and you look at him with a lazy smile, your eyes still dilated from lust and the drug. "I don't think I will ever get enough of this, honestly.”

Sukuna lays on top of you for a moment, your bodies still connected, his head resting on your shoulder and his chest rising and falling, his heart pounding against his ribcage. When he looks up at you, the smile on your face is languid, your eyes still dilated with pleasure. "Me neither, princess. I don't think I'll get enough of you either. You're too damn addictive.”

"More addictive than the substances you throw all day?" You giggle out before giving him a sly, playful look.

A smile appears on Sukuna's face at the mention of his drug use, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer, not wanting to be apart from you just yet. "Oh, no question about it. You're way more addictive than any substance I've tried so far. You're like this drug I just can't get enough of. Always wanting more, always wanting to have you close to me. I might be in trouble, princess."

A small smile is still on your face when your hands card through his hair and your eyes take in his appearance once again. He is so fucking beautiful. His pink hair is all sweaty and messy, his crimson red eyes dark and dilated from lust, his lips kiss bitten and just as swollen as your own and the black ink stands in contrast to his fair skin.

As you rake your fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation before opening them again and meeting your gaze. There's a look in his eyes that's both intense and soft, a combination that he never showed before, to nobody and something that only you seem to bring out in him.

You just lay in each other's arms in silence for a few minutes. Calming not only your bodies down but also your minds and relishing in the presence of the other as you're replaying the memories of the day.

"I'm kinda hungry... like really, really hungry..." You tell him in a quiet whisper, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful silence more than necessary while still combing through his hair while he leaves small kisses against your shoulder and collarbone.

When your breaths return to a normal pace and your minds slowly come back to reality, you trace lazy patterns on his skin. Sukuna can't believe he actually feels content and somewhat satisfied and…happy? There is no way he would get attached to you, to this. Whatever this is.

As you whisper about being hungry, he can't help but chuckle, his eyes looking down at you. "Of course you're hungry, princess. It's normal to get a little hungry after vigorous activity. What do you wanna eat?”

He sits up on the bed, and you let out a whine at the loss of contact, immediately regretting saying something. He leans over you to reach the nightstand, getting his phone and lighting a cigarette, rolling onto his back beside you in the pillows before holding one of his arms open for you.

You instantly smile brightly and shuffle into his arms again, pressing yourself into him from the side, and he securely wraps an arm around you, enjoying this feeling of having you tucked close to him. "Oh, there is this amazing local diner. They have everything! Pizza, pasta, burgers, and the spare ribs are to die for! We could-" You start talking loudly and all excited about the food before interrupting yourself when you look up at Sukuna and he just stares back with an amused smile, his hands lazily stroking up and down your bare skin.

"I started rambling again, didn't I?" You ask with an embarrassed chuckle, blushing slightly.

"You definitely did, princess," He answers with a chuckle of his own. "It's cute, though. You get really excited when you talk about food.”

"Yeah, that's because this place is really good! You've never been there?" You still start to ramble on and on about how you discovered the restaurant first and tell him a few fun stories you had with your friends at the diner, wether he wants to hear them or not. In the meantime, you two take a look at the menu and place your order for delivery before comfortable silence falls over you. The only sound is the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

"Sukuna, can I ask you something?" Your voice is timid but serious, a hint of curiosity behind your words.

He immediately turns to look at you, his attention fully on you now as he takes a last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the nearby ashtray. "Course you can, ask me anything, princess.”

For a moment, you carefully think over your choice of words, not wanting to make him angry because this question would invade his personal space too much. "Why do you take drugs? I mean, I kinda get the appeal right now..." You chuckle at the thought of yourself being so much against anything that would break a rule just a few hours ago and now you lay in the arms of the college bad boy and are high like a kite.

He can't help but chuckle at the irony of it all. Just a few hours ago, you were so against any form of rule-breaking, and now you're here. The college sweetheart, lying in Sukana Ryomen’s arms, completely wasted and asking about drugs.

You are a little more serious again when investigating further into Sukuna's private life. "But what got you into it? Was it just curiosity, or did something happen or... I mean, how does one find out about all this stuff?"

He listens carefully as you ask your question, his expression impassive but his mind thinking about how he should respond. It's a personal question, something he doesn’t usually get asked by anyone, let alone some girl he hooked up with. But somehow, he doesn’t mind answering you.

"It started out of curiosity. Most of my friends already started smoking weed and drinking at parties, so I tried it out. Soon, I got introduced to more...hard stuff. It was easy to get, and honestly? It took all my worries and stresses away. It made me feel something, pushing away the usual numbness."

"Yeah... I guess I know what you mean..." Your eyes are distant, and your eyebrows furrow as if in deep thought. Memories you keep hidden deep inside of you bubbling to the surface and emotions that are pushed so far back, that you yourself even forgot about them for a moment.

Sukuna can tell that there are memories and emotions buried deep inside, locked away in a place you hardly dare to visit, brought forward in your drug induced state. He just continues to stroke your back, silently telling you it's okay to go on.

“Growing up as a rich girl is not as easy as one might think..." You mumble.

When you speak again, your voice quiet and strained, he can feel the weight behind your words. Your words hang in the air between you two, and he knows there's more to that sentence than you're saying.

You let out a deep exhale and look at him with a small smile. "The next time you need a stress relief, feel free to call me over, okay?"

Your voice is soft, and the vulnerability from a moment ago is gone. The fact that the both of you almost opened up to one another about deep emotional trauma still lingering heavy in the air even though neither of you wanted to admit it. Whatever this thing between you is, it's better if you don't get too personal.

He can tell you're intentionally steering away from the conversation you are having, trying to lighten the mood and keep things casual. Dancing around the edges of each other's emotional walls, with neither of you wanting to get too personal or vulnerable with each other. It's easier that way to keep things nice and uncomplicated.

"Are you telling me that if I ever need to release some stress, you're willing to take one for the team, princess?”

You let out a bright laugh, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. "The whole team might be a bit much, don't you think? I've seen the guys you hang out with, and I don't think that would work well with my body. Like I could actually die, I think." The image of your small innocent self with Sukuna's drugged cocky friends plays around in your mind. Yeah... that wouldn't end well.

Your laugh is like music to his ears, the sound filling the room and making his heart skip a beat. Your playful response about the team made him laugh as well. The image of you with his rowdy friends causes a mix of emotions to stir within him - both a bit of jealousy and protectiveness.

Your hands come up to cup his face, squishing his cheeks lightly, your eyes sparkling with amusement and a small hint of affection that you aren't even aware of. "But for you, Ryomen Sukuna, I might make an exception.”

When your hands cup his face, the light squeezes, and the affectionate look in your eyes makes his chest feel tight. But of course, he plays it cool, as always, a smirk appearing on his face as he leans in closer to you.

"Damn right, you will!" He growls while tackling you down playfully into the sheets, his head buried in your neck and leaving small little kisses that would soon develop into another exhausting round of you being bent like a pretzel underneath him.

You spent the rest of the night together. Eating when the food arrives, talking about random stuff, watching a movie, and just getting down from the high.

You could feel the effects of the weed slowly subsiding, and you are surprised that you are still content with being around him. You would have thought the moment your head cleared, you would panic. But you didn't. On the contrary even, you rather enjoy his company.

In the morning, he sent you home with a kiss on your lips and a promise to call again, a subtle promise that there will be a next time.

[fluentmoviequoter]

I Chose You

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!(book reader!)reader

Summary: Street enlists all the help he can find to plan the perfect proposal.

Warnings: fluff, banter, a few book references at the end, brief mentions of gambling and breaking and entering

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

When Street enters the locker room at the end of the day, Hondo, Deacon, Luca, Tan, and Chris sit on the bench and watch him. He furrows his brows and slows between steps as the door closes behind him.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“You tell us,” Hondo answers, leaning back on his hands. “You’ve been weird-“

“Weirder than usual,” Tan interjects.

“There’s something on your mind,” Deacon amends. “If you want to talk about it, we’re here to listen.”

Street sighs and glances down. His team knows him well, too well, he thinks. There is something he wants to talk to them about; he needs advice and help but isn’t quite sure how to ask about it.

“Do not say you’re breaking up,” Christ blurts out.

“Chris,” Deacon whispers, turning quickly toward her.

“He did the look! He only makes that face when he’s thinking about her and clearly whatever is bothering him is big!” she defends.

“It is about her,” Street admits. “But I’m not breaking up with her. The opposite, really.”

Deacon smiles as Hondo’s eyes widen.

“20 Squad’s resident playboy is proposing?” he asks incredulously.

Tan checks his phone to ensure it’s not April Fools’ Day, then shakes his head as he smiles. He’s happy for Street; they all are, but that doesn’t mean there will be a break in the banter they’ve grown used to.

“I’m sure you need a lot of help,” Tan says. “With… everything, right?”

“Yeah,” Street murmurs. “But maybe Deac is more suited to help with this kinda thing.”

“We’re all helping,” Luca announces as he stands. “But I think we’re going to need more hands.”

“Why?”

“Because we know you Street,” Deacon answers, smiling as he joins Hondo. “And you’re going to go big.”

“What is going on in here?” Hicks yells as he enters SWAT HQ. “You’re all supposed to be at home.”

“We’re busy!” Mumford calls over his shoulder before looking at the paper in his lap.

“Oh, well in that case,” Hicks mutters sarcastically. “What are you doing?”

“Planning a proposal,” Rocker answers with a smile.

“Whose?”

“Guess, Commander!” Luca interjects.

Hicks pinches the bridge of his nose but smiles as he asks, “Hondo?”

Hondo makes a sound between retching and crying, then shouts, “Mrs. Right ain’t knocked down my door yet, Commander.”

“Gentlemen!” Hicks calls again before the common area descends into even more chaos. “Who is proposing?”

“I am,” Street says, waving from beside Deacon. “We’re planning the whole night.”

Hicks stares at Street for several moments, then asks, “Can I help?”

“If you care at all about our sanity, you will,” Deacon replies. “He wants to propose but doesn’t know what kind of ring she’ll like.”

Hicks rolls his eyes as he takes a paper from Deacon. “You and I both know he does.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Street argues before immediately correcting, “I don’t.”

“What’s her favorite color?” Hicks asks, holding a pen above the short list of ideas Deacon jotted down.

“Uh, she likes blue.”

“Does she wear jewelry?” Mumford adds. “Rings?”

“Small ones, sometimes.”

“First shape you think of when you hear her name,” Rocker calls.

“Heart,” Street answers without hesitation. “Wait, what?”

“You’ve got your ring,” Deacon tells him. “Small blue heart.”

“Where would I even find something like that?”

“You’re right, Streeter,” Luca says, shaking his head with a frown. “Because Los Angeles has a shortage of specialty jewelry stores.”

“That was unnecessary,” Street responds. “But, sure, let’s say I get a ring like that. Then what?”

“Is he serious?” Hicks mumbles to Deacon.

Deacon smiles and matches his tone to explain, “He’s nervous.”

“Street, she’s going to say yes,” Chris assures him. “Figure out when and where you’re going to ask.”

“Right… How do I ask?”

“You’ll figure something out,” Tan says.

“Real helpful, thanks.”

“Hey, you said she likes reading,” Mumford begins. “Why not do something with that?”

“Yeah, you could hide the ring in a book or set up some romantic reading night-type date,” Rocker adds.

“She’d love that,” Street agrees. “Reading night would work.”

“Well then,” Hondo announces, pushing his hands on his knees as he stands. “Sounds like we have some shopping to do.”

The rest of 20- and 50-David squads stand, and Hicks asks, “That requires all of you?”

“You’re invited too,” Hondo says with a wink.

Hicks tilts his head to the side, then shrugs. “Why not?”

“Oh, uh, hello,” a woman squeaks after the bell over the door chimes. “What can I help you with today… sirs?”

“Excuse the crowd,” Hicks tells her.

“We have a very nervous young man here looking to propose,” Luca explains.

“I’m not very nervous,” Street argues.

Hondo nods behind him, and the jewelry store attendant presses her lips together to hide her smile.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” she asks Street.

“Something small and blue,” he answers, glancing down at the case of rings between them. “Maybe with a heart?”

“I may have just the thing. One moment.”

She walks through a doorway, leaving the LAPD SWAT teams alone in the showroom.

“At least the place won’t get robbed,” Rocker murmurs as he leans over a watch display.

“Way to jinx us, pal,” Mumford grumbles from the other side of the room.

“Perhaps something like this?” the woman asks, opening a velvet box. “It’s a sterling silver band with a natural heart-cut topaz insert.”

Street hums as he watches the light glint off the shiny edges of the rock. “I like the shape and the color,” he says. “Do you have blue diamonds?”

“Lab-grown,” she replies with a nod.

“What if…”

“Go with your gut, Street,” Deacon encourages.

“Would it be possible to put a blue diamond heart in a ring, and then a small white diamond on either side?”

The woman sets the ring in a locked box beneath the counter and then clicks a few buttons on her computer. She turns the screen so Street – and the other officers – can see a blue diamond with white diamonds on either side. It’s a small ring, but it’s exactly what Street can imagine you wearing.

“We can then shape the blue diamond into a heart and use a sterling silver band,” she explains.

“I’ll take it,” Street responds.

“Perfect! Do you know her ring size?”

Street’s smile falls, and Hondo sighs.

“Guess we have to break into her house and steal a ring,” Luca muses.

“I’m in!” Rocker calls.

Two months later, Street has the ring box in his pocket and his backyard decorated like a reader's dream. There is a new swinging chair with plush cushions, accented by a book bouquet. He’s only waiting for you, and for his nerves to wear off.

“Street?” you call from the front door. “Where are you? I’m not playing Nerf hide and seek with you again, it’s not fair!”

“Backyard!” Street calls, forcing himself to keep his hands out of his pockets.

When you walk out, dressed in your favorite dress, Street forgets about his nervousness. You’re his future, his everything, and he wants to make you his wife. So, when you wrap your arms around him and don’t even notice all of the gifts, he buries his face in your shoulder and smiles.

“Are those books?” you ask suddenly.

“They are. And I know you can’t help yourself, so start reading,” Street replies.

You kiss his cheek, then hurry to the chair he constructed just for you. As you carefully extract a book from his special arrangement, you don’t notice him move to stand behind you or lower to one knee.

“How did you remember I wanted to read this?” you ask, opening the book to the first page. After you read a few lines, and Street still hasn’t answered, you turn with a smile.

Your book falls as your hands move to cover your mouth, and Street extends one hand from the ring box to catch it.

“I remembered that you wanted to read that book because I remember you. You have become my everything, you’re all I think about, all I want to come home to. I want to know you, to love you, for the rest of my life. Even though I know I’ll never be exactly like those guys in your books… mostly because I could take them in a fight-“ Street smiles as you laugh wetly, then continues, “I will do everything I can to be what you deserve, to show you the love that you are worth and I will be your other half, by your side, for as long as you’ll allow me. So, will you turn your back on the romance in those books and marry me?”

You nod quickly, dropping your hands toward Street’s shoulders as you answer, “Yes! Yes, Street, and not because you can take them in a fight but because the love you’ve given me has made me whole.”

Street smiles and pushes up, holding you close after you jump into his arms. After a moment, he pulls back slightly and slides the engagement ring onto your finger. You gasp at the sight of it, and Street knows that all the fun he and his SWAT brothers had planning this doesn’t hold a candle to the light and love in your eyes right now.

“Um, does turning my back on that romance mean I can’t read all the books?” you joke, blinking to clear your tears.

“Not without me,” he replies.

You take Street’s hand as you survey the rest of his perfectly planned night. A tea set and fresh bread wait on a plush picnic blanket, red and gray accents spread across the patio, and a distinct sense of how well your fiancé knows you.

“So, where is everyone?” you ask, proving how well you know him.

“Waiting down the street for my signal,” he answers. “They want to brag about how much work they did and that I couldn’t have done any of this by myself.”

“You could have,” you whisper before kissing Street. “But sound the signal and let me show off this ring.”

“We have a date night to finish first,” Street reminds you.

“You’re going to make them wait?”

Street leans close to whisper, “You’re my fiancée.”

You kiss Street once more, then lean against his side as you enjoy the evening he has planned and discuss the beauty of your romance story.

Bonus:

“What’s the signal?” you ask Street.

“Maybe it has to do with a rider without its dragon,” Street answers, running his finger over your cheekbone.

“A tragedy?”

“We had to have a plan in case you said no.”

“You didn’t. What is it?”

“Maggie chose a rabbit,” Street whispers.

You smile widely and take Street’s hand. “The signal can wait,” you murmur as you lean in.

Down the street, not at their planned waiting place, but in a restaurant a mile away, Hondo collects his winnings from the bet that Street would not use the signal. He splits the winnings with Deacon and Luca, and they walk away nearly as pleased with the night as you and Street.

[userluhna]

࿔⋆ QUIET PLACES

hwang inho x deaf!reader

based on this request

words: 1.8k

warnings: reader is deaf. no squid game references. inho being soft.

a/n: sorry if anything i wrote comes off as offensive—it wasn’t my intention, and i really tried my best to be respectful.

enjoy! :)

you met at a quiet library, the kind where the air smells like old paper and dust. it was a place inho frequented so often that the staff knew him by name. he was perusing the shelves, looking for a new book to dive into. the wooden floor creaked softly under his footsteps, the only sound breaking the otherwise calm atmosphere. that’s when he noticed you.

you were standing in front of the very shelf he was eyeing, your gaze flicking between the titles as if searching for something specific. you looked a bit lost, maybe unsure of what you wanted, or maybe just unsure of how to get it. when you turned around and caught his gaze, there was a brief moment of hesitation. you apologized, your hands moving gently in the air to signal that he could go ahead.

he smiled softly, a little embarrassed, and stepped forward to grab the book he had been looking for. you watched him with interest, his easy confidence striking you. there was something calming about the way he moved.

you weren’t born deaf, it had happened in your teenage years. sometimes you still used your voice, mostly when you had to. but in public, you usually wore your implant, using it only when you needed to interact with others. it was a choice you had made, when you were at home you would usually take it off.

“need anything?” inho asked, his voice a bit cautious.

you hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should respond with your voice or if you should just sign. after a moment of silence, your lips parted slightly, and you began to sign, your voice low and not very clear. you could hear yourself with the implant, but it still felt foreign. your voice didn’t feel like it was yours anymore, it was distant, like you were hearing someone else speak.

he looked at you, trying to figure out if he should speak or write. his hands moved a little, unsure. you noticed that he was trying, though, which made you smile.

thank you, you signed, a simple gesture that made his eyes light up. in response, he took out a small piece of paper from his coat and wrote: it’s a good one, before handing it to you. the next week, you returned with the same book, and when inho saw you, he smiled softly. you held up the book he had recommended, raising an eyebrow playfully. you signed, not bad, in a simple but clear way so he could understand.

“you didn’t like it?” he asked, his voice soft.

you grimaced and pulled a notebook from your bag, scribbling, too many metaphors, before adding, but i finished it. he leaned forward to read it, grinning. “harsh critic.”

from there, your meetings became more frequent. sometimes he’d recommend new books, other times you would. as the weeks passed, you noticed that inho was picking up a few signs, the simple ones like hello, how are you, and thank you. it was simple, but for you, it was more than just words—it was effort. it was him trying to step into your world, not expecting you to adapt to his.

his movements were still a little stiff at times, but careful, attentive. you smiled at the gesture, your heart warming at how hard he was trying. getting better, you signed back, slow so he could catch each motion.

“that’s the plan,” he said —one time when you asked about him signing— rubbing the back of his neck. “i figured it’d be easier than making you read my messy handwriting forever.”

you laughed softly, a small sound escaping your mouth. you opened the notebook where you kept all of your conversations, a mix of your handwriting and his. you pointed to his handwriting, giving it a thumbs up.

“you kept that?” he asked, his heart swelling a little, though he wouldn’t say it out loud. you nodded, “i like them,” you said softly.

after that, the two of you grew closer. you’d meet at the bookstore, then take a tea or coffee at the back of it because they served some. every week, he would learn new phrases, testing them out with you. when he got them right, you would smile, applauding him, and if he failed, you would gently correct him, guiding his hand, adjusting his movements.

when he asked you out for the first time, it was through signing. his movements were slow, careful—he had been practicing, you could tell. do you want… coffee? with me? not here, his hands asked, and you smiled in return.

you waited for a beat before teasing him, signing back—yes.

the first date was a little overwhelming. the café was busier than either of you expected. inho noticed you seemed uncomfortable, a bit tense, not like the quiet space of the bookstore. he hesitated for a moment, before leaning in, his voice quiet. “you can take it off if it’s too much,” he said, gently pointing to your implant. you blinked in surprise, unsure if you should. your finger shook slightly, unsure of how to respond. you sure? you signed, your fingers trembling a little—whether from his soft gaze or the loud noises around you, you weren’t sure.

he smiled reassuringly. “i don’t mind.”

once you removed it, the world around you felt a little more distant. but when you spoke with inho, it all seemed to fade. the way he switched between speaking, writing on napkins, and signing was awkward at first, but it felt natural, like you were finally speaking the same language. you’d write on napkins or your notebook, sometimes speaking out loud, though it was rare.

i’m glad i said yes to coffee, you wrote on a napkin, your smile shy. he looked at you, a bit nervous but smiling softly. “i’m glad i asked,” he replied.

you had more dates after that, usually somewhere quieter, so you could hear his voice. but he always made sure you knew, if you were ever overwhelmed, you could take off the implant, and everything would be okay. you loved how attentive he was to you. when you saw each other, you’d talk about your lives—his little brother, how much he loved reading, and how you did too. you’d share things you hadn’t told anyone before, and you’d teach him new words or sentences. he was always excited to learn more, to communicate with you in ways that felt more personal.

on your first kiss, inho had practiced a few new sentences. he wanted to make sure it felt right, to let you know how much he cared. when he signed how much he was trying, how much he was doing this for you, it made your heart melt. his vulnerability, the rawness of what he was saying—it hit you harder than words ever could. you stepped closer, his hand finding your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin.

can i kiss you? he signed, his eyes not leaving yours. you didn’t respond with words. instead, you closed the space between you, your lips meeting his. the kiss was soft, not rushed, and when it deepened, you felt your heart race.

over the weeks, you noticed how much inho had practiced new words and phrases, trying to understand and adapt to your world. inho’s love wasn’t loud or dramatic. it was in the small things: remembering how you liked your tea, the way he signed your name, the new signs he created just for the two of you. it was in how he slowed down the world so you could breathe in it.

some days, the communication was frustrating. you’d sign something, thinking he understood, and he would nod, only for you to realize he hadn’t quite grasped what you meant. but you worked through it, talking things out. love, you learned, wasn’t always easy. sometimes it was messy. but it was okay, hearing wasn’t an obstacle.

he would look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like he would learn every language just to be able to talk to you. he stood up for you in public, always making sure that if anyone spoke to you and you couldn’t read their lips or didn’t have your implant, he would step in. he never spoke for you, though. he always let you speak for yourself. he always let you be independent.

when you first said “i love you,” you were hesitant. it was a quiet evening, just like the ones you’d often share together. at your place or his, it didn’t matter. you had been together for months now. he was reading next to you on the couch, your legs resting on his thigh, his thumb brushing your ankle. you watched him, admiring the way his eyes followed the words on the pages, the curve of his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

you tapped his shoulder. he looked up at you, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “mhm?”

you signed, i love you, messier than usual, but he understood immediately. without hesitation, he signed it back, slowly, not rushed. he leaned in, his finger finding your cheek, his eyes soft.

“say it again,” he murmured, his voice low. your voice came out quiet, a little rough, but steady. “i love you.”

his eyes closed, savoring it, his hand brushing your cheek again. say it again, he signed playfully, making you laugh. you pushed his shoulder gently.

after a year and a half, you moved in together, savoring each moment with each other. inho had become fluent in sign language, and now, he spoke to you only in that way. sometimes, you’d catch him talking to himself or to you, even though he knew you couldn’t hear him unless you put your implant in. you’d tease him about it.

you’re talking to yourself again, you would sign with a smile. “i know,” he would reply, watching you walk toward him, your finger brushing his jaw.

then say more, you signed i’ll watch i promised.

you loved his voice, the way it sounded low and quiet, how it would make you shiver just a little. how he would speak to you, his voice soft, like he was telling you something only you could understand.

and him? he loved your voice, even though he didn’t hear it often. he loved the little sounds you made, the soft gasps when you were surprised, the sound of your laugh.

sometimes he just looked at you, the way your fingers would move while you signed or how mouth would part slightly before you spoke. he loved the silence with you.

sometimes he would kiss your neck softly, murmuring things, things you didn’t catch so he would look at you, sign it slowly, deliberately: you. drive. me. crazy.

masterlist

[leighbaye]

— CINNAMON GIRL ⁴

written by mina leigh ୨ৎ , dallas winston 𝔁 f! reader | wc 1000

summary. dallas’ perspective on y/n, delving into his tough exterior and how she manages to reach the vulnerable parts of him he keeps hidden. through dallas’ eyes, we see the impact of her unwavering kindness and how she brings a rare sense of peace to his otherwise chaotic life.

labels. dally’s point of view.

warnings. mentions of dallas’ rough upbringing, and brief references to violence and criminal behavior.

life’s a fight. always has been. you either take the punches or you throw ‘em, and i’ve never been the kind to just sit there and take it. the streets taught me that. new york taught me that.

but for some reason, y/n never needed to fight. she could walk into a room and somehow everything got quieter, calmer. like even the meanest bastard wouldn’t dare cross her. i used to think it was because she was soft, too sweet for her own good. but now i know better. y/n’s tougher than most people i’ve ever met. just in a different way.

the first time i met her, i thought she was a joke.

it was a couple years back. i’d just started hanging around with the curtis boys and their little crew. didn’t trust any of them yet, not really. but they had my back in a fight, and that was good enough.

y/n was sitting on the couch at their place, holding pony’s arm and telling him to quit squirming while she bandaged him up. he’d taken a tumble during a game of football, and the kid was whining like he’d lost a leg or something.

saw two other kids, looked just like her. the younger boy spoke.

❝im so sorry pony! i didn’t mean too, i’ll do anything to make it up to you!❞

i already don’t like him, why are his glasses so big?

pony, one i was familiar with replied.

❝don’t worry ‘bout it charlie, we were just playing around ... ouch! y/n … that hurts.❞

❝you’re fine, pony,❞ she said, her voice calm but firm. ❝just sit still.❞

i leaned against the doorframe, watching her. she didn’t look like she belonged in a place like this — too clean, too pretty, too … good.

❝who’s this?❞ i asked, jerking my chin toward her.

❝that’s y/n,❞ soda said, grinning. ❝she’s like our guardian angel or something.❞

❝angel, huh?❞ i smirked, crossing my arms. ❝doesn’t look like much to me.❞

y/n glanced up then, her eyes meeting mine. they weren’t soft like i expected. there was steel in them, and it threw me off.

❝and you must be dallas,❞ she said, her voice steady. ❝i’ve heard about you.❞

❝yeah? what’d you hear?❞

❝that you’re trouble.❞

i grinned, stepping closer. ❝and you’re not scared?❞

she smiled back, just a little. ❝should i be?❞

i didn’t know what to say to that, so i just shrugged and walked away. but that was the start of it, i guess. the beginning of whatever this thing is between me and her.

y/n’s different from anyone i’ve ever known. most people take one look at me and decide i’m not worth their time. hell, half the time i don’t blame ‘em. i’m a mess, and i know it.

but not y/n. she sees through all the crap, like she’s got some kind of sixth sense for knowing when someone’s not as tough as they act.

there was this one night, a few months after we met. i’d gotten into a fight with some socs down by the tracks. they jumped me, four against one, and i didn’t exactly come out on top. i managed to drag myself to the curtis house, bloodied and bruised, thinking maybe darry could patch me up.

instead, i found y/n sitting on the porch, reading some book i didn’t recognize.

❝what the hell happened to you?❞ she asked, her eyes going wide when she saw me.

❝just a little disagreement,❞ i muttered, trying to brush past her.

but she wasn’t having it. she grabbed my arm, surprisingly strong for someone so dainty, and pulled me inside.

❝sit,❞ she ordered, pointing to the kitchen table.

i thought about arguing, but something in her voice made me shut up and do as she said. she grabbed a towel and some ice, cleaning me up without a word.

❝you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself, dallas,❞ she said after a while, her voice quiet.

❝doing what?❞ i asked, wincing as she dabbed at a cut on my forehead.

❝acting like you don’t matter,❞ she said, her eyes meeting mine. ❝like it doesn’t matter if you get hurt.❞

i didn’t know what to say to that, so i just looked away.

it’s funny. i’ve been through more fights and close calls than i can count, but the only thing that’s ever really scared me is the thought of losing y/n.

i don’t mean that in a romantic way or anything. it’s just … she’s the only person who’s ever made me feel like i’m worth something. like maybe i’m not as screwed up as i think i am.

she’s always there, no matter what. when i screw up, when i push people away, when i do something stupid that lands me in trouble — y/n’s there, not judging, not lecturing. just … there. in a good way.

there was this one time, not too long ago, when things got really bad. i’d been arrested again, and when i got out, i didn’t want to see anyone. i holed up in my crappy little room, trying to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

but y/n didn’t let me. she showed up one afternoon, knocking on the door until i finally let her in.

❝what do you want?❞ i asked, my voice rough.

❝to check on you,❞ she said simply, stepping inside like she owned the place.

she didn’t say much after that, just sat with me, her presence steady and grounding. after a while, i started talking — about new york, about my parents, about all the crap i never tell anyone.

and she listened. she didn’t try to fix me or tell me everything was going to be okay. she just listened, and somehow, that was enough.

y/n’s the kind of person you don’t expect to find in a place like this. she’s too good for it, too good for any of us, really. but she stays anyway, and i don’t think i’ll ever understand why.

all i know is, i’d do anything to protect her.

© MINA LEIGH 2024 - 2025

. . . prologue darry curtis sodapop curtis ponyboy curtis

you’re here! johnny cade steve randle two - bit matthews

[lanawinterscigarettes]

New Face || Rory Gilmore x gn! reader

Summary: Rory instantly becomes intrigued when she spots a new person at Luke's Diner

Warnings/contains: love at first sight, season one/Chilton Rory (she's literally just a baby here 🥺), ummmm very brief mention of death (it's in reference to where Mary Shelley got the inspiration for Frankenstein from so it's nothing graphic), Rory is very much infatuated with you here, they/them pronouns are used once at the end to refer to the reader in a gender neutral manner

Beginning notes: I just started officially watching Gilmore Girls and I love it so so much so I decided to write a cute little thing with Rory because she's just too cute and I love her <3 (also the DVDs I got for the first season off ebay ended up being scratched so I can't watch past halfway through the third episode because it kept skipping/glitching >:( which means I'm trying to distract myself until the new DVDs I ordered come in)

The diner was bustling with activity that morning, just like always, with patrons filling nearly every seat and the smell of coffee lingering like a caffeine-filled breeze. Casual chatter and conversation filled the air, only broken by the occasional dingling of the bell over the door, which signaled either someone's entrance or departure alike.

Rory sat in her usual spot by the window, pouring over the pages of her most recent read, Bram Stoker's Dracula. Horror novels weren't really her thing, but she thought it might be a good idea to branch out a bit, and a classic was a classic regardless of the genre.

She sat there for a good long while, completely engrossed in the dark and moody writing on the printed words in front of her. Not even the faint background noise of Lorelai begging Luke for another cup of coffee disturbed her, as that was yet another thing she was used to seeing. In fact, she only looked up from her book when her own cup of coffee was empty, and she was thankful she did, because that's when she saw you.

Everyone knew everyone in Stars Hollow, so the locals could instantly spot an out-of-towner from a mile away. And while, yes, it was obvious that you weren't a local, Rory was far too distracted by how captivating you looked to care about that.

She had to get to know you better, especially if you were only passing through. She couldn't let this opportunity go to waste, not with the way she was drawn to you so.

Shutting her book, she tucked it under her arm and picked up her empty coffee mug, trying to appear casual as she made her way over to the counter. She stopped a few feet away from you and set her mug down for Luke to refill once he was done humoring her mom, clearing her throat as she racked her brain for the best way to strike up a conversation with you.

Luckily, she didn't have to worry about thinking for very long because you beat her to the punch.

"That's a good novel," you commented while gesturing to the book she still had tucked under her arm, the title just barely noticeable. "I saw you reading it when I came in, but I didn't want to bother you, so I didn't say anything."

"Oh," was all she could muster in response as she became aware far too late that you were much more attractive up close. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for her to try talking to you, as she clearly had no idea what to say. "I'm not a big fan of this kind of genre, to be completely honest. Doom and gloom isn't really my thing, but I figured since it was a classic I'd try it out, y'know?"

Her mouth was moving faster than she could think, and she was certain you must've thought she was insane, but you merely nodded in understanding at her words. She couldn't tell whether it was because you were genuinely interested or if you were just trying to be polite, but it was confirmed to be the former when you spoke again.

"I'd recommend reading Frankenstein by Mary Shelley if you haven't already if you're trying to expand your taste a little while still sticking with the classics. She was only eighteen or nineteen when she wrote it, and it was that very piece of media that actually started the science fiction subgenre."

Rory was feeling so lightheaded she thought she might faint. Not only were you well-aquainted with literature, you were also giving her a recommendation. She'd already read it before, of course, but the thought behind it was enough to make her swoon.

"Oh, yeah, that's actually one of my favorites," she stammered out quickly, her cup of coffee forgotten as she was now focused entirely on you. "Did- did you know the inspiration came from dreams she would have after the death of her baby daughter where she was able to revive her body by warming her up next to the fireplace?"

She was speaking utter gibberish by this point, but she was desperate to find any piece of knowledge that would make her look cool in your eyes. Or at least cool by bookworm's standards.

"I did know that, actually, but I find it pretty impressive that you do, too. Not many people know what actually helped to inspire the book in the first place, just that it was written as part of a friendly wager between her husband and his friend."

Her heart swelled with pride at your words. You were impressed by something that she'd said. She could've died right then and there at the mere notion, and she would've died a happy girl.

"You seem to know an awful lot about books," she heard you continue through the lovesick haze she was caught up in. "I'm sure summer reading lists and school book reports hate to see you coming."

At that, she let out a flustered little giggle at your teasing words, because it was true. She did enjoy summer reading lists and school book reports far more than the average person might.

"Well, I certainly don't hate them," she shyly responded, ignoring the questioning eyebrow raise Luke gave her when he finally stopped bickering with Lorelai long enough to refill her mug with fresh coffee. "I- I'm Rory, by the way. Are you new here?" She curiously questioned while picking up the mug and bringing it to her mouth so she could have a taste.

"Yeah, I moved here recently. I don't really know anybody yet," you stated with a casual shrug, acting as if it was no big deal to be in a brand new place full of people that you didn't know. You seemed so nonchalant and carefree, and she found herself a bit jealous, wishing she could be as laid back as you appeared to be.

"Well, now you know me," she replied with a warm smile, licking the few drops of coffee off her lips that were left behind. "Do you like books, too? You seem to know a lot about them."

Rory knew she probably shouldn't pry, but she wanted to know more about you. Needed to, even, the same way that she needed to breathe. She yearned to be near you, craved your presence like it was a hard drug she was fixed on, like it was the very thing keeping her alive. She just hoped she was playing it cool enough so as not to give away how attached she was already becoming to you.

"I read a little in my free time," you replied as if it were no big deal. "I had to leave most of my book collection with friends and family when I moved here, though."

Her eyes practically lit up with excitement at your words. Not at the notion of you having to leave your beloved books behind, of course- she couldn't even fathom having to do something as devastating as that -but at the idea that maybe this was her way in, the perfect opportunity for her to get to know you better.

"Well, we have a great library here. The selection might not be as big as you're used to, but I can promise it has all the classics and then some," she began to excitedly ramble, unaware of the way she was starting to move closer to you the longer you spoke for. "I can take you there some time, if you want. And... maybe even show you around town, while I'm at it," she tentatively added at the end, testing the waters a bit to see if you'd be okay with her wanting to spend some more time with you.

Much to her delight, you nodded your head at the offer and said, "Yeah, sure. Sounds like fun." Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your wallet so you could pay for the to-go box of food you'd come in for in the first place, only to have her stop you.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I can cover it for you." She definitely sounded a bit desperate there, but it was really hard for her to stay calm when you were standing this close. "I mean, since you're new here, and all."

Letting out a sigh of feigned disappointment, you put your wallet away. "Alright, fine. But you'll have to let me pay you back some day." The wink you gave her at the end of your sentence stopped her heart fully, and it was a wonder how she was even standing as she watched you grab the to-go box and turn to leave. "Later, Rory."

"B- Bye," she softly stammered as she watched you go, the bell over the door giving a finalizing chime as you exited the diner. She stood rooted to that same spot for a good couple of minutes or so before scurrying back to her seat, book in one hand and coffee in the other.

"Hey," Lorelai greeted once she had taken her seat sitting across from her. "What was that all about? I've never seen you purposely attempt to be that social with someone you didn't know, like, ever."

"I don't know," Rory mumbled out the lie, not wanting to get into all the different ways you had been and were currently still making her feel. "They're just... interesting, I guess. It's nice to see a new face every once in a while."

She then set her coffee down on the table and cracked open her book again in an attempt at avoiding any more questions, though she was certain her answering them was inevitable and bound to happen sooner or later. For now, though, she just tried to focus on reading, and not that effortless charm of yours that made her feel like she was drowning in a pool of her own emotions.

End notes: I got a little lazy when writing this so this might not be my best work sorry about that 💔 also this could definitely lead into a part two if anyone wants to read smth like that

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open | divider by @/aquazero

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[allwormdiet]

Interlude 8x

Hey! Lisa! Finally some Lisa

You know, it's funny, for a second there I forgot that the Boardwalk involved treating poor people like trash and having hired muscle around to beat and murder people for daring to be impoverished. Maybe it's not such a huge loss after all.

Lisa, you are so fucking funny, keep up the good work

If you'll allow me to take a brief tangent: there's a tabletop RPG series called Chronicles of Darkness, it's a supernatural noir kind of thing where you can play as mortals stumbling across horrific traces of the unknown, or vampires, werewolves, the victims of the fey, etcetera, broadly pretty fun, if you want you can check it out.

Some time around the time they were putting out the second edition of Chronicles, they put out this book called Hurt Locker, which isn't actually a reference to the movie? It's a slang thing, but I'm trying to stay focused. Hurt Locker had a few chapters about combat, how to make things more cinematic or more gritty, quicker means of resolving less significant conflicts, narrating damage and negative conditions in a way that increases the tension, but there were other parts of the book that were about understanding different kinds of harm and violence. While skills such as Brawl, Firearms, Weaponry, and even Drive and Intimidate have obvious ties to what can be involved in their application to violence, it talked about every other skill as well, and what those kinds of violence and harm could look like. Academics, for example, a skill that's mostly used to abstract things like humanities, law, accounting, and so on, can be tapped as a means of inflicting financial woes onto a target, laying the groundwork to set them up for a mistake that, combined with all the previously "misfiled" reports and so on, gets them fired from their office job. Medicine can be used to make poison and Science can be used to cook homemade plastic explosive. But besides the Physical skill category and the Mental skill category, there's also a Social skill category; skills like Empathy, Persuasion, Socialize, Subterfuge, and these are the skills that are involved in what gets dubbed "emotional violence." Spreading rumors, deliberately pressing on someone's triggers, excluding them from their peers, things like that.

Emotional violence is the purview of the bullies, obviously, literally all three of those things are shit that we see Taylor be subjected to because of their lunatic campaign, but the thing is that it's Lisa's weapon too, and I've seen two kind of extreme reactions to that. The first reaction is to think that it's not nearly as dangerous as laser blasts or bug control, and that's not exactly wrong? The problem is more that even in this arc we see the flaw in that line of thinking; Tattletale basically guarantees that Armsmaster's career takes a massive blow as a result of his little maneuver during the battle. The second reaction is to think that it makes Lisa a monster to even use it, and I disagree pretty strongly with that.

We have seen how parahumans interact with their powers, how they respond to having the capability to do the impossible at a moment's notice, and it's pretty blatant that their powers are second nature to them. Skitter is constantly adapting to her swarm, Miss Militia is literally never without a weapon, and to some extent even Canary lapsed into influencing her ex's mind without fully realizing what had happened. But I think, because Tattletale's superpower is not obviously what it is, that theoretically having a PI on hire to constantly study everyone around you could produce the same results, subsequently when she uses it against other people she manipulates them, stokes their insecurities, and makes them feel awful, and those could theoretically be done without her power. This strikes closer to home for people than bug control; I suspect that very few people think that Skitter is uniquely evil for having her insects sting the shit out of the people in the gallery, but I've seen at least some sentiment that Tattletale is no better than Emma, and while I understand the take I don't find any real footing on it. Emma is under no compunction to wield her social abilities like a weapon; Tattletale can't drop her power from her hand any more than Miss Militia can. She uses her words like Taylor uses her bugs; one of them just hits closer to home than the other, because nobody in real life can command bugs to sting people in the eyeball.

Digression over. I will say it's interesting that insulting Lisa's intelligence is the thing that gets her fired up, and it's also worth noting, in my opinion, that she responded to a very thinly veiled threat of physical violence (which we know can involve sexual assault and even death) with explicit emotional violence.

Hey Tattletale, thank you for giving an ironclad statement that you grin as a fear response, I will be noting further instances

Very Grue to be like "yeah, one in four capes are dying today, but there's not four of us here so it's fine"

Also a little telling that Tattletale's immediate response when Skitter comes up is to look for her, and that she has a whole line of thought about Skitter's simultaneous high level of self-consciousness, high level of observational capacity with her power, and also rock-bottom awareness of certain things. Which. Those are true. Girl literally offered Sundancer a hand up while they were still soaked in blood and maybe eyeball juices.

So, here's the first real thing we get in this arc of Lisa admitting to any degree of manipulating Taylor. She believes that she could've gotten her to go along with Dinah's situation if there'd been enough preparation to make sure Taylor didn't get rattled, and I don't know if that's true.

And then... sighs. Taylor is so goddamn lonely, all the time, and she knows that and she tries to fix it, but she keeps ending up unable to trust people because of rifts between them, real or imagined. I wonder how much of that comes down to her trigger event? Emma, obviously, but there's the other girl who had pretended to be Taylor's friend right up until the locker, and then Armsmaster, her dad, and now the Undersiders. Her response to betrayal is to remove herself, whether it's out of discomfort or distrust or fear, because even if she hates being alone, it's easier than leaving her back exposed to someone she can't trust.

And that's so fucking sad.

The first part is sweet in its own sad way, and then the second part is just sad again. If Taylor died here, what would be known of her?

...I'm gonna get to the "what if" where Taylor died btw. That's for the end of the arc and I have a whole plethora of Thoughts and Feelings about that

And here's the first time Tattletale describes her powers at all. It's an interesting perspective.

Rip in pieces Tasha

And then the first display of Lisa's power from her own perspective, which is cool. Not to mention the detail about how she's been improving with it over time, going off of the estimate from present day she's almost doubled the uptime

And the devious mastermind and social engineer Tattletale is using her incredible deductive powers tooooo steal debit cards

Rip. Better luck next time.

Or not.

Doesn't take three guesses who these guys work for.

...The fuck is up with Coil collecting teenage girls with Thinker powers? I know once is happenstance and twice is coincidence but I think I'm good without seeing a third instance.

Well fuck, this is pretty goddamn sinister huh

Also yeah no kidding a poor kid is gonna be distrusted compared to law enforcement or equivalent in the "nice" part of town.

Assault! Rape! Murder! But it's okay because it's the less dead, and because it's all to make sure that pretty Boardwalk doesn't get made uglier by the unfortunates crawling around the edges.

This city is a fucking pit, and that's before the city gets an actual literal pit in it.

Fuck you Coil.

I wonder if Leviathan just bleeds for show, honestly. Like to make people get cocky and think that it's starting to take damage, but surprise! It's fine and now you're being crushed to death under a small lake's worth of water

Also, secret weapon sounds fucking ominous with Regent's powerset. Fuck does he do?

I'm kind of imagining Alexandria hitting Leviathan with wrestling moves in this moment. Fucking RKO out of nowhere.

Fucking rad, no notes

Very stylish of Dragon, also very complicated to have a drone piloting your mech, but I guess needs must and Tinkers can get away with a lot

Okay so first off what the fuck kind of structure do you have to have going on where Leviathan's body has constantly increasing levels of hardness and density, how the fuck

Second off, "never was human" is fucking alarming. That means the Endbringers were made or just fucking popped out from the ether. Possibly both. Neither of those thoughts are comforting.

Jesus Leviathan is so fucking strong, he just demolished their entire position with a jump.

Also lmao at "what would Taylor do"

Nine people dead or incapacitated in like thirty seconds. What a monster.

Hang in there Lisa, we'll see you in a few

Wow, she has Grue pegged immediately, huh, or at least what he projects as Grue and not Brian

And she automatically understands the assignment on Rachel, too, even if she's never much good at it. Then again I think that's also because she's not getting to what's underneath the relevant stuff.

Okay so here's Tattletale's read on Regent, and I suspect that while she's largely correct she's missing key details, like she is with Grue and Bitch. It's entirely possible he's a sociopath, but I suspect that he's more than just whatever superhero comics think sociopathy is. Hope that ends up handled well.

Oh Lisa, you rascal. This will have consequences.

Current Thoughts

Literally two chapters before the Lisa interlude I was complaining about how I wanted more insight into her brain, and now here we are

She alarms me still to an extent, but at least now she's something more of a devil I know, especially with what comes up later in Extermination. Plus it means I have more reasons to despise Coil and that's good enough for me

I still adore you Lisa please stay safe and hang in there

[joequiinn]

The Dos and Dont’s of Fake Dating - inspo guide!

When I'm working on a story, I draw on all kinds of media as inspiration. I make lists of characters' fav movies or playlists that remind me of them, etc.

These are just some things I took inspo from/relate to Dos and Don'ts! I'm taking a brief pause in writing, so hopefully these will hold us over!

@sheneedsrocknroll92 and @steeldaisies because yall showed some interest!!

Playlist

I have a lil playlist full of songs that fit this fic's vibes in some way or another. There are various genres and tones and themes, so if you aren't afraid of bouncing around between types of music, this may be a fun way to vibe with the fic!

Music

Mystery by Dio - this is 100% THEIR song, I've associated this with Eddie and ice princess since day one; it will also make an appearance in an upcoming chapter~

Just Tonight by the Pretty Reckless - this song is one I associate with a particular chapter that is drafted but not out yet, and the vibes in general really mesh with some of the themes of this fic.

Ghost, HIM/Ville Valo, & Twilight Creeps - I just listen to these artists a lot while brainstorming and writing this fic; some particular songs are on the playlist mentioned above!

David Bowie & Fleetwood Mac - sooo ice princess isn't really a music person, because I think it's a funny contrast to Eddie; however, I do think she has a few Bowie and Fleetwood vinyls/cassettes lying around that belonged to her mom, so that's the extent of her music knowledge lol

Movies

Can't Buy Me Love - originally, I wanted to write a story inspired by this movie; the setup is ridiculous and I love every minute of it, so if you want to see an early prototype Eddie x ice princess, I suggest watching this one!

10 Things I Hate About You - this was also a movie that I considered using as plot inspo; although they're not the same, I do think similarities can be found in the characters to some extent, especially Patrick = Eddie.

Heathers - the vibes and fashion speak to be, and in another world maybe Eddie and ice princess would serve up some JD and Veronica vibes~

Halloween - it hasn't come up yet in the fic, but ice princess is a closet horror movie fan whose favorite is Halloween (no it's not her fav bc it's my fav what do you mean).

Bride of Chucky - Chucky and Tiffany speak to me on a spiritual level, and I feel like Eddie x ice princess give some of these vibes??? Also RIP Eddie Munson, you would've LOVED Child's Play.

Labyrinth - I picture ice princess having a lot of similarities with Sarah, which I didn't initially notice when I was first writing. There have been many lines I've written that I can SO clearly hear in Jennifer Connelly's voice, so she's a big inspo for this fic. Also, I love Bowie

TV

That 70s Show - putting aside all the real-world controversies, I was obsessed with Jackie & Hyde when I was a kid, and I think you can clearly see a similar character dynamic with Eddie and ice princess.

Married... With Children - have yall SEEN Kelly Bundy??? enough said.

Other

Evil Ernie - maybe you've seen my other Eddie posts, but I've mentioned before that the vibes of this comic series and it's titular character remind me of Eddie, so that's all.

Flight of Icarus - yes, yes, I know that this is literally a book about Eddie, but I still think it's worth noting that I've used the book as some reference, but for the most part I haven't included it too much (I also haven't read it sorry not sorry)

[doll-elvis]

PRISCILLA 2023: the press conference and incoming reviews

today was my day off of work so naturally I stayed up until 5:15 am (pacific standard time thingz) to watch the press conference, and to read some of the incoming reviews for the film 😩

here are the most interesting notes from the press conference (it was extremely brief) and the reviews that I found the most interesting ⬇️

✭ the key moment in the press conference was most definitely Priscilla getting asked a question despite her not being on the panel but in the audience. She was asked how she felt about her life being represented on film and what touched her most about the movie… she gave the best answer of the conference imo

- she became emotional nearly right away and had to take a moment to wipe her tears for which she apologized

- at first she simply said “the ending”, referring to what touched her most about the film. Based on that, and another question, I’m assuming the film ends with Priscilla leaving Elvis

-there were a few questions which shed Elvis in a bad light and so Priscilla referenced one of the journalists and began defending Elvis: she said that her parents had no idea why Elvis was so drawn to her and wanted to be with her, but she states that she was someone that Elvis could completely pour his heart out into (she references the loss of Gladys, his fears, and his frustration with his career)

-As she says it, she was there to listen and to comfort him, she said that is what drew Elvis to her. She states she was mature for her age “older in life but not in numbers”. She also says that in the beginning of the relationship, when she was 14, the relationship was not about sex and that he always respected her

“People think, ‘Oh, it was sex.’ No, it wasn’t. I never had sex with him. He was very kind, very soft, very loving, but he also respected the fact I was only 14 years old”

-she talked about how she didn’t know why Elvis had put so much trust into her but she realized it was because she never gave him up. She never told anyone at school she was seeing him etc. etc

-to end her statement she says that Elvis was the love of her life, and that she didn’t leave him because she didn’t love him, she left because she couldn’t handle the lifestyle

some other key notes-

- the very first question by a journalist referenced physical and mental abuse that is shown in the film

-Jacob Elordi seriously surprised me (in the best way) with his very first answer: he was asked about Elvis telling Priscilla “maybe another time, maybe another place” and how he related to that. He first talked about how Priscilla’s book was the main source for him, and how he came to understand the scale of their love (between Elvis and Priscilla) and the power of it. He said it’s “true”, “undying”, and “it’s beautiful”. He finished by saying that Elvis and Priscilla will be tethered for eternity because of their love

(I honestly didn’t expect such an insightful answer from him lmaoo 🤧)

- Sofia talked about how it was really important for this film to only be the from the perspective of Priscilla, and she says that one of the reasons she loves film is because you can experience someone else’s story

- One journalist asked Sofia if she learned anything new about Elvis from talking with Priscilla and she says that Priscilla told her about how when they would go to movies together in Germany, Elvis would always mouth the words to film… that is how badly he wanted to be a serious actor

- Jacob was asked if he drew any inspiration from the 2022 “Elvis” and he said “no.”, and that Sofia helped him tackle his fears in portraying someone as big as Elvis

- When asked about why Jacob was casted as Elvis, Sofia said that she felt that he had the same charisma as Elvis but most importantly he could play the sensitive and vulnerable side to Elvis

There were a few other technical questions about the film’s palette and music but the press conference ended super quickly, it was a bit awkward to watch and the lead actress, Cailee Spaeny, was naturally very nervous 😭

Overall, reviews have been mixed. Some are saying it’s Coppola’s best work. Some are saying it lacks any depth. And many have had not good things to say about Elvis which makes me anxious for what kind of content is shown in the movie

Here are some of the newest reviews for the film, courtesy of letterboxd ⬇️:

“it avoids giving any sort of context to why Elvis was acting the way he was” is the most worrisome line out of all of these to me… elvis is quite possibly the most context needing person ever

it’s a lot to digest at once, what do y’all think about everything?

[not-wholly-unheroic]

A Comparative Analysis of Hook’s Ship and Cabin in Popular Media Portrayals

Part 5: Peter Pan & Wendy (2023)

For the final part in this series, I want to take a look at Disney’s most recent live-action retelling of Peter Pan. While the film itself isn’t perfect, I will say that at least in terms of its external appearance, this is one of my favorite representations of the Jolly Roger because of the intricate details included. They’re subtle—blink and you’ll miss them entirely—but they tell an interesting story.

First, let’s take a look at that figurehead, shall we? Unlike so many other versions of Hook’s ship, this time, it isn’t a menacing skull or claw but a lady. While this wouldn’t be an uncommon sight on a ship, this particular lady is not a saucy mermaid or proud goddess… Instead, she appears to be in mourning, her left arm raised to cover her eyes while her right is extended longingly toward the side of the ship. Zoom in and you’ll see why. Carved into the wood is a row of children. We can see the wooden children again in a brief close-up near the end when the ship is flying and nearly runs into the cliffs. This figurehead is a mother weeping for her lost little ones. And if that doesn’t break your heart and make you seriously think on what this version of Hook’s mindset must be like, I don’t know what will.

There are even children’s faces—or rather, a specific child’s face—carved into the railings on the ship. We can see it in a few scenes but this is one of the clearer images I could find. Does this look eerily like Molony’s Peter to you? Because I think it does. But maybe that’s just me.

Then we get to the outside of Hook’s cabin—which unfortunately is never really clearly shown in the film. However, we DO have some behind-the-scenes images of it and OH MAN…. This part of the ship very clearly depicts Peter chained to a tree while four mermaids reach out to him, attempting to offer comfort and aid.

If you’ve ever seen the original cover art for the novel, this seems to be a nod to it. On it, Peter sits on a rock playing his pipes while a mermaid approaches on either side and the crocodile lays curled up beneath, Hook’s claw poking out of its mouth.

That Hook would have such artwork blatantly referencing his time on the island as a part of his ship tells us a great deal about how effected he was by his time there. This ship seems to be one that Law’s Hook himself designed very intentionally. Despite all his hatred for Pan, he keeps his long-lost friend close at all times and openly bears his grief over the loss of his mother and Peter through the artwork that surrounds him.

In contrast to the ornate decorations on the outside of the ship, the inside of this Hook’s cabin is surprisingly sparse and practical. It is probably more realistic than any other version we have seen thus far, but it feels strangely empty and dark for a Hook’s residence. The bed is—much like in Disney’s animated film—a simple cubby built into the wall with only a thin curtain to separate it off from the rest of the room. There are a few books on the shelves to the right of the bed and some bags of what I assume may be rations stacked to the left.

What’s really interesting, though, is what we see in the brief close-up shots we get of the shelves near the doorway. There are all kinds of things in jars, preserved presumably in alcohol. One jar noticeably contains what looks like an octopus (or part of one)…possibly in passing reference to Hook’s animal antagonist in Disney animated sequel…while at least two others contain human hands. Right hands, to be specific. One of the hands is actually even labeled with a name—Stubby Bartholomew (?). According to an interview, Law seemed to indicate that his Hook was looking to see if he might somehow replace his own missing hand. Regardless, though, I want to know the stories behind these hands. Who were the men they were attached to? Why was Law’s Hook fighting them? Did they know he was going to save their hands, once severed? Did he just take the hand of the person or did he kill them and remove the hand after death as a kind of sick trophy? This is definitely one of the creepier things that we have seen with any Hook.

Speaking of creepy…on another wall, we see a dried fairy corpse pinned up like a butterfly. We don’t often see Hooks being completely ruthless on-screen, but this one definitely gives off a threatening vibe from all the dead things he has collected within his cabin walls.

There’s even a dead crocodile… Not THE crocodile, of course, but there IS a large skull which we can see he keeps underneath his desk. It shows up again later more noticeably and in a comic fashion in the finale when the ship is being turned upside down and the skull becomes stuck on his head…but it’s there even in the first shot we see of his desk. There’s also an hour-glass… Not a clock, of course, but the time theme is still present.

And then there is the gramophone, which once again, clashes with everything else about this Hook (clothing, a more classic wooden ship, etc.), which otherwise suggests someone from the earlier part of the Age of Sail. Unlike the ones in Hoffman Hook’s cabin, though, this gramophone is pretty obvious because Law’s Hook is actively listening to something on it when the kids first enter his cabin. A friend did a great write-up on the significance of exactly what he is listening to that you can read about here. Suffice to say for our purposes here, though, that the opera he is listening to wasn’t written until 1853, and gramophones themselves were not around until even later in the 1800s. Law’s Hook does mention that his mother is long gone by the time he leaves Neverland and goes looking for her, though, so perhaps his ship and belongings are reflective both of the time period of his youth and a later time period when he returned to the “real world.”

Then again, Smee is said to have pulled Hook out of the water as a child, and Smee seems intimately familiar with the older wooden style ship as opposed to steam ships, which would have been becoming pretty common by the mid to late 1800s, so it’s hard to say for sure. (Bonus content not entirely related but just because it’s cool… In a few shots of Mr. Smee, we can see there is a very small tattoo on his right hand. It’s a teapot. Which is just…such a perfectly Mr. Smee thing to have a tattoo of, and I love it.)

While Law’s Hook was disappointing for some fans of the more classic elegant, over-the-top versions of the character, he’s undoubtedly intriguing, particularly when we examine his Roger. This Hook is unlike any other. He wears his heart on his sleeve—or rather, his ship—and surrounds himself with reminders of Death and Time, as if he knows his own symbolic significance as a manifestation of the doomed Old Man going up against Youth. And yet…in this version, he is not quite so doomed, returning in the end, to make peace with Peter and accepting that one can be “old” while maintaining a spirit of youth.

[roselynia]

Day 2 of Rose's Silly Creative Challenge:

Prompt #643: "You can't hate him for that." / "But I can hate him for a lot of other reasons." | @/creativepromptsforwriting | @creativepromptfills

POV: Third-person

Pairing: None

Original Character(s): Sebastian Sinclair, Theodore Sinclair | Mentions of Sylas Grey

Word Count: 960

Age Rating: E for everyone

A/N: I received some amazing feedback yesterday and decided I'd try writing from the third-person POV today. I also wrote this same story from a second-person, MC/Reader, POV since that is my usual writing style. I will post that as 2.5 tomorrow. ♥ I'm also adding a tag list (thank you, Rou) if anyone is interested in being tagged in what I write/draw for the month!

Tag List: @rou-luxe

The soft glow of Rothmore’s ever-lit lamps cast thin bands of light across the common lounge of The Phoenix Nest this evening; warm, golden tones reflected against the polished marble floors and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the quiet campus. The lounge was spacious enough for all dorm members, but it felt strangely suffocating as Sebastian sat in one of the cushioned armchairs, leafing aimlessly through the pages of an ancient celestial tome while his brother, Theo, paced in simmering silence a few feet away.

“Honestly, Theo,” Sebastian began, lifting his gaze from the, currently, half-read page. His voice was its typical quiet, neutral tone, even though he could practically feel his twin's frustration as his own. “You can’t hate him for that.”

Theo paused mid-pace, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. He exhaled slowly—like he was trying not to unleash an entire sermon of frustration to his brother. “But I can hate him for a lot of other reasons,” he retorted, his electric-blue eyes flashing with a carefully contained fury that didn’t suit his typical warm demeanor.

They both knew exactly who they were referring to: Sylas Grey—the Lilin who had effortlessly stolen the show in that afternoon’s mock duel for Advanced Combat Theory. Theo hadn't quite expected him to pull off a series of pinpoint strikes the way he did—swift and calculated, brimming with a dangerous expertise that he wouldn't ordinarily show.

The part that stung Theo wasn’t the fact that Sylas had bested him.

No.

It wasn't that simple.

It never would be.

Instead, it was the silent understanding that neither of them had really used their full power; that they never do.

For all Sylas’s cunning and skill, Theo could have responded in kind. Should have, even. However, certain…constraints...kept him from unleashing the brilliance that lurked just below his calm exterior—the same way Sylas’s father likely kept the demon on a tight leash, compelling him to conceal the full extent of his own abilities.

Sebastian shut his book with a gentle snap, setting it aside on a table beside the armchair. He noted how his twin’s glow—an aura that always reminded him of sunrise—was tinged with a tense, jagged edge now. “He beat you in a fair fight,” He pointed out, calm and measured. “He didn’t cheat. You know Professor Alstrom’s wards would have caught any foul play.”

Theo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know,” he admitted, exhaling. “That’s not what bothers me.” A pause followed, charged with unspoken thoughts. “It’s the way he looks at me, Seb. Like he knows I’m—We're hiding something…like he sees right through the façade.”

A brief flicker of concern passed over Sebastian’s face. “We all are,” he murmured. “Hiding something, I mean.”

Theo glanced at his brother, jaw set, unintentionally ignoring his murmured words. “He’s manipulative. He’s arrogant. He has no respect for boundaries, no—” He forced himself to stop, breathing in deeply. “He tries to provoke me, pushes me to show everyone what I can really do.”

Despite his brother’s frustration, Sebastian couldn’t help but empathize. "Maybe it’s because he’s in the same predicament, Theo," he suggested softly. "Bound by his father’s will. Forced to posture and hide his real self. You two are more alike than you’d ever give credit." He knew Theo hated hearing that, hated the suggestion that he and Sylas might share anything in common...but Sebastian could see the parallels as clearly as the glow of their shared bloodline. Sylas’s careful manipulation, Theo’s calculated charm—they were two sides of the same coin.

Theo scoffed, rolling his eyes at his twin's words. "Us? Alike? Hardly." But his voice lacked any true conviction. A flash of memory flickered in his mind—Sylas’s steel-gray eyes locking onto his mid-duel, sharp and searching. To Theo, it was as if Sylas seemed to see right through him—as if they were playing a dangerous game of chess where every move could expose the other to a checkmate.

Running a hand over his face, Theo sighed, frustration lacing his words. "I know exactly why he’s trying to provoke me. He’s testing me—trying to figure out who we really are. He knows we don’t belong here, not in the way everyone else thinks we do, not in the way everyone else does. He wants leverage, and he’ll get it if I let my guard down."

Sebastian studied his twin’s profile: the regal lines of his face, the faint shimmer in his pale skin, the identical halo of golden hair whenever the lamplight caught it at the right angle. There was something in Theo’s intensity that reminded Sebastian just how much responsibility he carried. "Maybe because he knows you’re playing a role, just like he is," Sebastian said gently. "And maybe he knows what it would mean if you found out his secrets before he found out yours."

Theo shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I’ll give him credit for being sharp, but I’m not giving him an inch, Seb." For the first time this evening, Theo's gaze met his twin's own. "Not until I find out everything he’s hiding and make sure he doesn’t get the better of us first.”

With a slight nod, Sebastian sighed, “I understand.” He picked up his discarded tome again. “But please, remember that we have to spend the rest of the year in the same suite with him. Don’t let your hatred blind you to the bigger picture.”

Theo looked away, arms folded over his chest. “Fine,” he said, quieter now. “I won’t start a war in the common area.” A pause, then a reluctant half-smile tugged at his lips. “But if he pushes me again, I will show him a hint of what I can do, Seb.”

Sebastian returned that same small smile to his stubborn older brother, even though he wanted to roll his eyes. “Sylas probably wants that, Theo. You shouldn't give him the satisfaction.” He glanced out the window briefly, but his attention quickly went back to the tome in his hands, returning to the page he left off on.

Knowing there was nothing left to be said as his twin returned to his 'studies', Theo simply nodded to himself, giving a faint hum of acknowledgment. He let his gaze linger on the darkened corridor that led to their shared suite area.

He understood all too well that the demon’s hidden potential possibly rivaled his own.

To others, it seemed as though the public humiliation of losing the duel was what unsettled Theo today—but in truth, it was the unspoken fear that Sylas might one day see through the carefully constructed appearance he and his twin had so meticulously crafted.

...Because if Sylas ever uncovered the reality behind their light...

Then, one day, Theo might have to show him exactly why the Seraphim of Elyrion are meant to be feared and revered—even if it meant exposing the true reason he and his brother had come to Etrealis in the first place.

[starstruckkittensweets]

chapter two

Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: Dabi x Reader Words: 5.6k

A/N: Anon in my inbox, this chapter is for you! I've had this in my drafts for a while now, so I cleaned it up and edited it so I could post it ASAP. I hope you enjoy! Please heed the warnings both below and in the main masterlist!

Warnings: 18+ only (minors DNI), Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, explicit language, mentions of arson, mentions of violence, stalking, breaking and entering, Reader is followed and nearly attacked by a stranger (nothing happens, heavily implied though), murder, brief descriptions of a corpse (it's Dabi's fault), Dabi is kind of an asshole towards Reader in his descriptions of her but that's to be expected I guess

“Kerosene and Butterflies” Masterlist

Your house used to be an akiya, one of the many abandoned homes in the rural parts of Japan. Upon graduating and moving out, you were able to snag a nice one for an affordable price, with a few investments in repairs here and there. And while your family wasn’t a hundred percent on board with the idea of you living so far away from the rest of them, they didn’t really stop you because, well, it all came out of your pocket. Why stop something if you’re not the one footing the bill, right?

It’s quiet, calm, and comes with some gorgeous scenery, especially in the fall season. Only a fifteen-minute walk to the nearest town, seven if you power walk. It’s the dream house you’ve always envisioned yourself living in when you finally grew up and moved out of your parents’ home.

But now you’re starting to see the downsides of living in such a secluded home: far away from the rest of civilization, not a single soul in sight. A perfect location for any wandering criminals looking for an easy break-in.

You haven’t slept much these last few nights. The little note is in your desk drawer, stuffed between two books and covered up with a towel. Part of you wanted to throw it out, to stuff it down the shredder, to burn it and toss the ashes somewhere in the forest—but eventually you caved and decided to keep it. Maybe hand it over to the police as evidence if any more were left behind.

But it’s been the only one for about a week or so. And since then, you’ve triple checked each lock on every door and window in this house, even scoped out the entire place from outside to make sure there weren’t any crevices or secret entrances anyone could use against you. And just as a precaution, you keep your old softball bat right next to your bed, brushing your fingers over the handle every night before you go to sleep.

Not like it’ll do much against an attacker, you barely have any arm strength to begin with. Still, it gives you something to cling onto.

And now the moon is high in the sky, and you still have to get ready for work tomorrow. Part of you wonders if you should stay in a hotel for a couple nights in the city, but you decide against it. You have to save up for bills anyway, there’s not enough cash between weekly grocery shopping and student loans to splurge on a hotel getaway. Besides, it’s not like anyone can get into this house anymore; you’ve latched both locks on the front door and shoved a bookcase in front of the kitchen window. The curtains are shut and the lights are off. No one’s getting in here now.

You wish you could remember anything about that night—anything unusual, like missing items or unusual scents. But you’d been so tired from your shift that you’d thought nothing of it, completely oblivious until you found that little note tucked away in your notebook.

The little black notebook you’re cradling against your chest, an uncapped pen trembling between your fingers.

Someone was in your house. Someone had found this book—had leafed through it and read your little entries. All the embarrassing words and thoughts that plagued your mind in the dead of night, and sometimes during the day, about a certain black-haired villain. Someone who had left a taunting note about it, leaving you rattled for days on end.

Oh god, I can’t believe someone saw all those notes and entries—they must think I’m a total weirdo! I thought no one could find it and read it, that’s why I kept writing—but oh my god what’s going to happen now? What if they come back and try looking through it again? What if—

Calm down, it’s okay, what’s the worst that could happen? So what if they read all your embarrassing writing? It’s not like they’re going to go to the police and tell them you have the hots for a villain. You’re not gonna get arrested for something like that.

You grit your teeth at the thought. You do not have the hots for him.

Go figure, you’re more hung up over the fact that someone’s read what you’ve written in your little diary rather than them actually breaking into your own fucking house.

Maybe you really are screwed up in the head.

As quickly as you can, you change into your pajamas and finish your nightly routine. You tuck yourself into bed, surrounded by the trio of plushies next to your pillow. As sad as it sounds, they give you a sense of comfort you haven’t felt since before you left home to come live here.

Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Maybe it was just some lowlife who thought he could scare you. Maybe he’s far away from this place by now, looking for another house to break into. Besides, it’s not like he took much, right? He’s probably traveling light in order not to get caught. He’s not gonna come back anytime soon.

It’s true, only a few snacks and candy bars from the counter were taken that night. You realized the next morning, after staying up the entire night holding the note in your hands. Not enough to put a dent in your food supply for the week, but enough for you to notice its absence.

If it happens again, you could always contact the police. Maybe they could get a hero or two to patrol the area, to make sure he’s really gone. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Sure enough, the thought’s enough to send you to sleep, with a hand curled around the handle of the softball bat, and another wrapped around the little stuffed toys on your bed.

“I have some terrible news…the pocky I was planning on sending you mysteriously disappeared.”  

“Shocker.” The sound of Fay’s laughter crackles over the phone’s speaker. Part of you wants to laugh along with her, but the growing pit in your stomach tells you it’s not a good idea just yet. “Did your brother come over and steal it again?”

“No…actually, his is gone, too.”

“Wait, seriously? What happened to it? Because I know you suddenly didn’t get a craving for pocky in the middle of the night.”

You shrug your shoulders, even though you know she can’t see you. Even if she’s miles away overseas, just talking to her again makes you feel a little bit safer. Like nothing can hurt you if she’s on the phone with you.

No scary people lurking outside your home tonight.

“I…I think someone broke in and stole it.”

“What?!” It’s hard not to flinch at her shrill yelp. Why did you put her on speakerphone again? “Someone broke into your house?! Are you okay? They didn’t take anything valuable, did they? No money or electronics? You still have all your personal stuff, right?”

“Yeah, Fay, don’t worry about it. Everything’s in order. Looks like they just helped themselves to that stash of candy I was saving for you guys. But…that’s all they took.”

Fuck, even when you say it out loud it sounds ridiculous. What kind of thief breaks into someone’s secluded house just to steal a fistful of candy? Not a very smart one, if they ignored the whole gaming system you have set up in the living room. You could easily make a few hundred bucks off of that…so why didn’t they think to take it when they had the chance?

Fay hums on the other end of the line; you can just picture her tapping her finger against her chin, lost in thought as she stares into space. “…That’s weird. And you’re sure they didn’t take anything else?”

“Positive.” You checked each room twice, then triple checked them just to be safe. Everything’s in order, aside from the supply of candy in the kitchen. “But…it happened about a week ago. Nothing else since then, so…I’m guessing that’s a good sign?”

“Well, did you call the police at least? Or put in a report? Maybe you can have a couple heroes scope out the place if you’re nervous.”

“Yeah, I thought about that too… If it happens again I’ll let them know. But honestly I think it was just a one-time thing. It’s been pretty quiet since it happened, anyway.”

You don’t even bother telling her about the note; you know if you do, she’ll be screaming in your ear about how dangerous it is over here, that you should just move back home to be with the rest of your family and friends. Safe and sound, where they can keep a close eye on you.

Not like there aren’t villains and lowlife criminals where she lives, but still… You can kinda see her point. Nothing like this had ever happened back when you lived with your family.

Besides, telling her about the note will only lead to telling her about the journal—about Dabi, and you’re never going to go there with her. You trust each other with a lot, but this is a secret you’re willing to take to your grave.

Nice way of putting it, but whatever.

Can you even imagine how fucking awkward that would be? Yeah, I ran into one of Japan’s most wanted villains at my job and now I’m fucking obsessed with him. I can’t stop thinking about him and honestly he’s the reason I started writing in that old journal again. Oh, and whoever broke into my house also found that journal and read through all those stupid little entries I wrote about him. And they left me a little note taunting me about it. Fucking amazing, right?

She already knows you’re weird, but admitting something like that to her would guarantee her checking you into some kind of hospital. Or back home with your family. Honestly at this point, you don’t know which one would be worse.

Thankfully she drops the subject; you can tell the time difference is getting to her (it’s almost her bedtime, and the day’s just beginning for me). But talking with her always puts you in a good mood, and when you say your goodbyes and hang up, your chest already feels a thousand times lighter. If you have one regret upon moving overseas, it’s not being able to bring Fay along for the ride.

But now the house is quieter without her voice echoing through the rooms. Today’s housecleaning day, and thankfully it’s nice enough outside to have the windows open. The fresh air always makes you feel better. And besides, it’s broad daylight—what kind of thief would try to break in now?

So you change into an old shirt and pair of shorts, push open the windows, and set to work. First comes the laundry—you’re lucky enough to have a working washing machine and dryer in the powder room downstairs. Once the first load of clothes is shoved into the washer, you head upstairs with a bucket of rags in one hand and a mop in another.

The first casualty is your bedroom; you’ll work your way downstairs and clean as much as you can, until the smell of lemon makes your stomach twist.

The hours tick by slowly, and eventually you lose yourself in your housework, humming along to the thousands of songs on shuffle blasting through your headphones. Sweep the floor, mop the floor, polish the windows—oh, don’t forget to switch the laundry. One load down, two more to go.

And it’s…nice. Not that you enjoy doing housework, but it’s almost relaxing to keep your hands busy with something else for a change. Keeps your mind off other things, lets you focus on the gorgeous weather outside and the fact that it’s you day off from work. Sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy the simple things like that.

Don’t even mention the events of last week. All that’s over with now, gone with the wind. And thank goodness for that.

The sun is nearly gone by the time you finish, and you’re fucking exhausted. But at least the laundry’s done and folded, the upstairs is spotless (save for the storage room, that’s a project for another day), and the entire house has a faint lemon scent to it. Not overpowering, but just enough to remind you of home.

Still, even with how tired you are, the last thing you wanna do is dirty up the kitchen and make yourself some dinner. Maybe you should treat yourself to that cute little ramen shop in town…

The more you think about it, the more enticing the idea sounds. Your stomach is already growling, but you manage to change into a fresh pair of clothes and fix up your hair a bit before heading out the door. Heavy lanyard hanging from your wrist as you lock up and head into town.

Just a quick bite to eat, and then it’s bedtime. In and out, twenty minutes’ adventure. What could go wrong?

He didn’t expect to see her out and about this early in the day.

Granted it’s nearly half past nine, a dark veil over the streets of the city. But it still makes Dabi stop in his tracks, huddle further into the alleyway when he sees her sitting at the counter of a ramen shop. Eagerly slurping up noodles from the bowl in front of her, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. Completely unaware of her surroundings.

As per usual, the little idiot.

Well, he can’t be too mean to her; she has been a bit skittish the last week or so. Probably found his note in that little book of hers, and now she’s more careful about wandering too far from her little house in the woods. She hasn’t left it much other than to go to work, and unknown to her, he’s only a few steps away from that downtrodden path. Making sure she gets home safe.

At least, that’s what a hero would think, and he’s the furthest thing from one. Nah, he just doesn’t want anything to happen to that little stash of food she’s got in the kitchen. Thanks to her generosity the League was able to fill their bellies for a few nights. Only downside is that Toga is consistently begging him to get more of those candy bars, maybe even some more pocky. She seemed to like that the most.

He’s just thankful she hasn’t decided to follow him out here. No telling what the little psycho will do if she sees the cute owner of that tiny house.

…Cute?

He grimaces at the word. Not even close. Just fascinating to him. He wants to know what’s going on in that stupid little head of hers—how much of it is filled with air and empty space if she has the balls to go and write little love letters to a villain like him.

He’s been to her house three times since then; two for recon (making sure no one else is scoping out the area), and one to explore that huge master bedroom of hers. She’d been at work, not scheduled to come home until hours later, so he made himself comfy at her desk and flipped through her little journal.

She’s got a bad habit of writing about him. Not any other villains, not even any heroes. The only name scrawled down in those pages is Dabi.

He hadn’t seen her up close since that first night at the store; and now she’s just ten feet away from him, chowing down on some ramen like she hasn’t eaten all week.

Bet she’s eaten more than any of us have, if her loaded kitchen’s anything to go by. The thought makes his stomach twist and his fists tighten at his sides.

But he has to keep his distance—for now, at least. Don’t wanna scare her off just yet.

Dabi pulls his hood up and over his head, careful not to make any sudden noise from the alleyway. She’s sitting there with two other guys, all three of them too engrossed in their meals to pay attention to each other. Looks like she won’t be leaving anytime soon, so he might as well get comfy.

Not like he has much to do tonight anyways. He’s been hanging out here since the sun went down, waiting for a possible new addition to the League. But he hasn’t shown his face yet, and Dabi’s waited long enough. Can’t waste time on nobodies not committed to the cause.

Of course now he’s got a reason to stick around a bit longer—one that’s slurping up noodles so loud he’s surprised she hasn’t woken the entire neighborhood.

He lights a cigarette, careful to shield the spark of blue from any prying eyes. Only a few people roam the streets this late at night, eager to get home and tuck themselves in bed for the night. A tipsy couple getting a little too handsy on their way to their hotel room. A group of teens chattering away like they’re the only ones in the world. Far too many businessmen checking their watches, probably planning on apologizing to their wives for not making it home on time.

All of them walk by him, too lost in their own troubles to notice a villain lurking a little too close to the streets. Guess nothing’s unusual about a guy leaning in an alleyway for a quick smoke.

He glances back up at the girl, just in time to see her finish off the bowl of ramen. She bids farewell to the owner, and from the smiles they give each other, it’s safe to say they have a bit of history together. He barely has time to sneak further into the shadows of the alleyway before she’s walking past him, that damn lanyard nearly hitting him in the knee.

She’s on the move now. He stomps out his cigarette and shoves his hands in his pockets. Wonder where she’ll head off to next?

She doesn’t veer off towards the path that’ll take her home. Instead she keeps walking aimlessly through the streets, drinking in the bright lights of the city, not even caring if someone nearly walks right into her. It’s getting harder to stick to the shadows, but at least the people around us give him enough cover. She hasn’t seemed to notice him following her.

Not yet, at least. And when she does…

It’s hard not to smile at the thought.

She’s lost in her own little world, admiring the sights like a fucking tourist. Like she doesn’t live in this damn city—oh that’s right, she doesn’t. She’s living out in those woods, secluded and tucked away in the shadows. Part of him wonders if she hates it, living on her own like that. If she was forced to or had nowhere else to go but an old cottage with a sunken roof and a coat of moss.

Must be so lonely in that big house, with no one to keep you company.

Eh, not that it matters to me anyway. She’s just a way to pass the time. To keep his hands busy until he gets bored of her. Or she gets bored of him.

Wonder if she’s written any love notes for me lately?

Suddenly she bumps into a random person in the crowd ahead; she shakes her head and offers an awkward smile, a thousand apologies spilling from her pretty lips. And then she’s off again, lost in the sea of city folk.

The man doesn’t move, frozen still on the edge of the sidewalk. The bastard’s a bit grimy, with an unkempt beard and bloodshot eyes. Apparently someone doesn’t care a whole lot about appearances.

Not that Dabi has much room to talk, looking like the patchwork freak he is.

But then the stranger glances over his shoulder, eyes searching deep into the crowd…and something stirs in the pit of Dabi’s chest. Something hot and sharp that sends alarm bells ringing through his head.

What the fuck is his problem?

The man’s shoulders stiffen, jaw clenching tightly—and suddenly he’s walking straight into the crowd, his eyes trained on her back.

And she’s none the wiser, poor, stupid little girl.

Dabi doesn't know what kicks him into gear; what has his feet moving on their own, every step sending a jolt of adrenaline rushing through his body. Once or twice he actually shoves someone out of the way, earning a couple dirty looks—or averted eyes, if they’re smart. But he doesn’t pay them any mind; all he can think about is getting to her before he does.

What the fuck has gotten into him? Since when does her safety and well-being concern him?

He should turn around. Pretend he didn’t see anything and walk the fuck away. Maybe head back to the shitty excuse the League calls a base, it’s a pretty boring night anyway.

Turn around. She’s not worth it.

Not worth it, not fucking worth it.

Like he hasn’t heard those words before.

She’s blissfully unaware of the audience she has, as she follows the familiar path towards the forest that’ll take her home. The stranger is close behind, footsteps too loud and clumsy. She’ll know she’s being followed the minute he hits the dirt.

Dabi has to be quick. While she’s occupied with heading home, he picks up the pace and meets the stranger halfway. Curling one arm around his shoulders, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle his screams, as he yanks him into the nearest alley. His other hand lifts up to the stranger’s face, a spark of blue coming to life at his fingertips.

“Not really in the mood to play tonight,” his voice drawls out, making sure to keep his back turned to the forest, “so if you start running now I promise not to hunt you down.”

He’s not worth his time; just some lowly trash who thought he could score big tonight. And Dabi can see it in his face, with the way he glares up at him, stringy hair hanging in his face, mouth curled into a sneer…

Wait, is he smiling at me?

“Didn’t think you were following me,” he sputters out once he moves his scarred hand from his face. “I thought you wanted to meet up near that ramen place?”

Dabi’s hand freezes in the air. This is the guy he’s been waiting for? He shoves him to his feet, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

“You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The man runs a hand through his greasy hair; Dabi barely manages to hide his grimace. “Something came up, and then I ran into…”

His gaze darts towards the trees, his tongue dragging along his lips. Dabi takes a step forward, the sound of his heavy boots echoing through the alley. The man clears his throat before meeting his eyes once more. Credit to him, he doesn’t flinch away when he sees Dabi’s face head-on.

Probably can’t see the severity of his scars in this light.

“Hey, you didn’t happen to see a girl come by this way, did you?”

“Stay away from her.”

The man’s face falls, and Dabi swears he can see his body tremble just a bit. “Oh, is she yours? Lucky man! Gotta say, pretty little thing like that shouldn’t be walking around in the dark… Quite a few dangerous fuckers out there wouldn’t mind getting their hands on a woman like that.”

Dabi can feel his blood boiling with every word that leaves the man’s lips. It’s not like he hasn’t come across men like this before; he has, and every single time they’ve left him with a twisting stomach and a burning throat. Eager to hunt down the weak, to prey on them till there’s nothing left—but when they’re confronted about it, they turn the other cheek and play that sweet innocent smile. Quite a few heroes do it to keep order in the public eye, so it’s no surprise a common citizen would stoop so low to save their skin.

But it’s the way he keeps staring at the trees, like he’s hoping she comes back out into the dim streetlight, that makes Dabi’s hands curl into fists inside his pockets. Call it a gut feeling, but something tells him he’s not worthy enough of being admitted into the League. Like hell is this bastard going anywhere near Toga if that’s how he looks at a girl.

Breaks my fucking heart.

But he can’t kill him yet. Gotta give him a chance to prove himself before anything else happens. Something about false hope, makes it a little more fun in the end. Even though he already knows the verdict on the matter.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The sound of glass shattering jolts you out of your slumber. Your eyes snap open, your heart lurches in your throat—and when you hear the creak of the stairs, you almost scream right then and there.

Almost.

You have barely a minute to think. Mind still frazzled with sleep, fingers still numb and head splitting with a throbbing ache. You completely forget the bat resting beside your bed and drop to your knees. Thank god you never put anything under here.

You crawl underneath the bed and slap both hands over your mouth. Your phone is resting on the bedside table, you didn’t even think to grab it. All you can think about are the impending footsteps—and the fact they come to a stop right outside your door.

Oh my fucking god, why didn’t I ever put a proper bed skirt in when I moved in here?! At least then I could be better hidden, anyone can see me if they’re looking hard enough! It’s so dark in here, but I’m almost positive anyone can see me—

Someone raps their knuckles on the door. It takes every bit of strength in your body not to squeak at the noise.

They’re outside. Oh god, they’re right outside the fucking door, shit—

Another knock. You squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into the skin of your palm.

Then, silence.

You don’t know how much time passes. Seconds, hours, it all blends together. Your face hurts from being scrunched up for so long, but the minute you relax your muscles you think you hear a noise—and you clench your eyes shut all over again.

There’s someone in my house. They must’ve broke through one of the windows downstairs, but how? I thought I had them all blocked off and shut!

Is it the same person who came to my house before? The same one that left me a note? Or is it someone completely different?

What’s stopping them from busting down the door and killing me right here and now? Why are they just standing out there like a fucking creep?

Eventually, the footsteps can be heard again. But there’s a creak on the staircase, a telltale sign the intruder’s retreating for now. Something heavy falls somewhere downstairs, probably one of the bookcases against the windows, the sound rumbling throughout the entire house. Your nails sink into the skin of your cheeks; part of you wonders if the intruder is tearing up your home in hopes you’ll come out to investigate the noise.

No fucking way. Your ass is staying right here, glued to the floor beneath this bed.

But then it suddenly stops, and it’s quiet again. Only for a moment, before you hear the sound of glass being kicked around, of the door downstairs opening with a harsh swing.

You don’t find the courage to breathe until you hear the door shut with a heavy slam, the walls rattling all around you.

Still, you wait a few more minutes before moving from your spot. As quietly as possible, wincing every time the floorboards squeak beneath your weight. Keeping your eyes on the door ahead, you reach up and feel around the bedside table for your phone—finally finding it and glancing at the time.

Four thirty-six in the morning. Half an hour before sunrise.

I think I’m going to be sick.

So you wait it out. Hunched beneath your bed with your phone in one hand and your bat in the other. Until sunlight streams through the curtains, bathing the room in a warm orange glow. Only then do you swallow your fear and open the door with a trembling hand.

There’s…nothing outside in the hallway. Just the usual wooden floor you’ve come to know over the last couple of years. The same one that’s always a pain to wash on housecleaning day.

The sun is your best friend, filling the house with a gorgeous golden aura. Shining through every window, nearly blinding you as you slowly make your way down the stairs. You don’t know what sick part of your brain makes you think you’re safe in the sunlight; for all you know, the intruder is still lurking outside your home, waiting for you to let your guard down.

Maybe it’s the same part of your brain that thinks you’re okay as long as you have the covers pulled up over your head at night. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.

At first glance, the entire downstairs seems normal. The front door remains shut, like it was never opened in the first place. The bookshelf is still in front of the large window in the kitchen where you left it. It’s the one in the living room that’s been shattered completely, shards of glass sprinkled on the floor, glimmering in the morning sun. A soft breeze flutters through the living room; you wrap your arms around yourself and turn away, already thinking about how much it’ll cost to get that fixed.

And then you see it—resting right there on the kitchen table, in the midst of all your shopping lists, bill payments, and letters to your family and friends back home.

A single rose with gorgeous red petals, its stem plucked of any dangerous thorns. Something that definitely wasn’t there last night when you went to bed.

Your hand is trembling as you reach out to grab it. There’s nothing else, just a lone flower with blood red petals—and the lingering scent of smoke and ash.

But something else on the table catches your eye. A piece of crumpled paper, clearly ripped from the notepad you keep on the kitchen counter for lists and reminders throughout the day. You’re shaking so hard you can barely get a grip on it, nearly tearing it in half when you try to open it up.

Sorry about the mess out back, doll. He won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Hope you can forgive me if I scared you.

You know it the second you see it: the handwriting is the same exact kind as the note from your journal. The same messy scrawl, the same swirl on the tail of the y, the same pet name doll.

Doll, doll—shit, it’s the same guy from before!

Wait a minute…what does he mean, ‘the mess out back’?

The longer you stay there, the stronger the scent of smoke gets. At first it was just a whiff, but now it’s hitting you square in the face, so strong you have to lift your sleeve over your nose.

Where is it coming from?

But you know the answer even before your feet begin to move. As slowly as you can, you start to walk towards the broken window. Trying to ignore the churn in your stomach as the smell of smoke gets stronger and stronger.

The early morning sun spills over the trees, creeping up the deck that stretches around the perimeter of the house. Broken glass glitters across the floor, twinkling like diamonds; your hands are trembling as you reach the railing of the deck, leaning over to peek around the corner—

The smell hits you almost instantly, even before your eyes land on it. Something large and charred and smoking horribly, reminding you of all the barbeque picnics your family would have over the summer. But it’s a gruesome smell, far too pungent to be a piece of food or part of a tree.

And too fucking big to be an animal.

Fuck, fuck, fuck it’s a human, it’s gotta be a human, holy fucking shit is that someone’s corpse out there on my lawn—

Someone screams in the distance—no, that’s just you, and you realize a little too late as you slap both hands over your mouth. You can’t tear your eyes away from the scene—your eyes nearly popping out of your skull when you make out a few bits of ragged fabric and the shape of a hand, scorched down to the bone.

The rose falls to the floor as you bolt back up the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet at least twice, and slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. Locking it tight and crawling back into bed, throwing as many blankets over your head as you can. Keeping your bat close and holding your phone against your chest.

It takes a solid five minutes before you can punch in any numbers, your voice dying in your throat with every word you speak.

It’s okay, the police are on their way. Maybe they’ll bring a hero or two to help them out—it’s alright, everything will be fine once they show up.

Your head is spinning like crazy (it’s too early in the morning for this shit). The break-in, the corpse, the note, the rose—what the fuck does it all mean? Somehow it’s all connected, there’s no fucking way all of this could be just a series of coincidences, but you know you’re still missing the bigger picture.

Who’s following you around, leaving you little notes and shit, and why did they leave a burning corpse outside your door like that? Hard to believe it, but you’re actually looking forward to going to work tonight. Anything to get you out of this house for a bit.

[youcantdateosmosisjones]

thoughts on the fable reboot

-until proven wrong, I'm like 98% sure this fable reboot loosely takes place after fable 1. it's got that fable: legends whimsical style to it (think that's the new artistic direction they're going for with this series- still getting used to it), magic is still around, and technology is at a minimum (hey! bows and arrows are back!). The vibe and stylization is very different than what I'm used to for albion, but no complaints.

-the only reason I confidently think it takes place after fable 1 is because of the castle. think it could be fun if we get to explore the lore behind all the shit that went down there before fable 2. mysteryyyyyyy oh yeah also bowerstone is huge now. not city-huge like fable 2, but the reign of terror has fo sho ended, and civilization is expanding... i think... it makes sense to me

-I do know for a fact that the heroes guild is/was up and running. Humphrey's got his pendent thingy, but I still dunno if this reboot is full-on retconning the lore. I hope not- because sometime after Fable 1, when guild dissipated and heroes became somewhat resented, the place got burnt to a crisp. don't think that's happened just yet- but i don't think the guild is all that popular at the moment And hey- the heroes falling from public grace is in the trailers... kind of (lots on emphasis on the people being sick of them). Would make a cool plot-point to see the guild's fall.

-dunno about the hero of oakvale, tho. he's probably dead. is only memorialized by a number of books, songs, and small easter eggs... maybe a statue if we get really lucky. wouldn't surprise me if this game takes place a few hundred years after fable 1 (there's 500 years between fable and fable 2- there's plenty of time to spare) and he's simply faded from the public consciousness. this Humphrey guy is probably the latest, greatest joe-schmo who just got off the pedestal ...actually the implications of past heroes fading out of favor soon as their glory days are over, and being replaced the next "savior" of albion is kind of depressing

-but also! Oakvale could very well still be thriving if i'm right. No shadow court (yet. would be cool if they made a guest appearance ig), possible location to visit, etc

-not gonna get my hopes up with this one- but potential cameos, or little easter eggs for beloved characters are always awesome. seeing theresa minding her own business for once... he-who-shall-not-be-named as a farmboy... one can dream. pulling up on the side of the road to help a blind lady- possibly a random encounter- only to get a brief, cryptic fortune reading from eldritch gma... ohhhh, the potential... .............but jack of blades reference..? any kind of reference to the court at all? pretty please??? all I need is a random poster on a wall commemorating their defeat, and I'll be happy

-I'm very interested in seeing what story this game's gonna tell. I have a feeling it's gonna lean further into player choice, like how bg3 has wonderfully showcased (not that extent, of course). We might actually get multiple endings, too. Least I hope so. With this new stylistic shift, new studio handling this, it'd be nice to see the narrative truly be affected by our decisions.

-im already kinda loving this villain

so yeah