#I think I need to try and get screened again for mental issues

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 1

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Chapter Playlist:

Chapter 1: Rolling Stone

The blaring of the alarm cuts through the dim haze of the bar like a knife. I squint at the glowing screen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My shift is over, but it feels like the world is just beginning again. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses fade into the background as I gather my things, the weight of another night spent pouring drinks and avoiding questions heavier than the bottles I’ve been slinging.

What the hell am I doing here?

I didn't need this job—my grandfather left a decent savings, more than enough to keep Choso and Yuuji set for college. But I can't touch it. Not yet. The thought of dipping into that fund makes my stomach twist. It's for them.

It’s always been for them.

So, I picked up this stupid job I hate, slinging drinks for people who don’t care about anything but getting wasted.

“Another night, another dollar,” I mutter to myself, a bitter grin creeping onto my face.

The familiar faces of patrons blur as I head to the door, but the fleeting laughter and boisterous conversations wrap around me, a reminder of the normalcy I’m missing. I should be out there, living it up, but instead, I’m trapped in this monotonous cycle of work and regret.

It’s been eighteen months since Jin died, and three weeks since I lost Grandpa. Shouldn’t I be over this by now?

“Just need to keep my head down,” I say aloud, shaking my head. “Keep the money coming. They depend on you, Sukuna.”

I step outside into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a splash of cold water. The streets are alive with the sounds of nightlife, but they feel like a distant echo, a life I no longer belong to. I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke fill my lungs, trying to drown out the nagging thoughts in my head.

Y/N…

She’s been my anchor since my world turned upside down. I think about the year we’ve spent together, how she’s become the one bright spot in my otherwise dreary existence. But there’s a heaviness between us that I can’t shake. I haven’t been fully present, and I know it.

“I’m trying, dammit,” I whisper, the words almost lost in the rustle of the wind. “But how do I explain this?”

What if I lose her too?

My thoughts spiral. I’ve built walls so high, convinced that keeping her at a distance will spare her from the wreckage I’ve become. But every time I see her smile, it’s like a reminder of everything I’m not—of the light I can’t give her because I’m too busy drowning in my own sorrow.

You’ve done enough of this pity party, Sukuna. Just let her in. She wants to help. You can’t keep pushing her away.

But it’s easier said than done. Every time I think about opening up, about letting her see the raw mess I am, a voice in the back of my head reminds me of the risk. “What if she can’t handle it?”

What if she leaves?

With a heavy heart, I crush the cigarette butt under my boot and head toward my apartment. I can’t let her see how much I’m struggling. I won’t burden her with my pain. But the truth is, I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m tired of pretending everything is okay when it’s not. I just want to talk to her, to feel that warmth radiating from her, even if it’s just for a moment.

As I approach my front door, I can see the lights flickering inside. Yuuji and Choso are likely glued to some video game, oblivious to the world outside. I shove the door open, the familiar creak echoing in the silence.

“Hey, I’m back,” I call out, forcing a casualness into my voice I don’t feel.

“Finally! We thought you fell in,” Yuuji replies, his voice full of that youthful energy that’s both infectious and exhausting.

“Yeah, as if. Just needed to pay the bills,” I respond, but my heart isn’t in it. I head to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like it’s the last drop of sanity I’ll ever have.

I should call her. Just see how she’s doing. She’s been so patient with me, even when I’ve been a complete jerk.

I pull out my phone, the screen lighting up with her contact name. My finger hovers over the call button, hesitation creeping in.

What if she’s busy? What if she thinks I’m pathetic for calling her now?

“Just do it,” I whisper to myself, the words barely escaping my lips. “You can’t keep hiding.”

With a deep breath, I press the button, and the phone rings. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait, hoping she picks up, praying she won’t judge me for the mess I’ve made of everything.

“C’mon, Y/N. Pick up.”

After a few rings, her voice breaks through, warm and inviting. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” I say, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly at the sound of her voice.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?” she asks, concern lacing her tone.

“Yeah, just finished work. Thought I’d check in on you,” I reply, keeping it casual, though the truth feels heavier than I can articulate.

“Just hanging out. You sound tired,” she notes, and I can almost picture the way she frowns when she’s worried.

Always so damn perceptive.

“Yeah, long night,” I admit. “How about you? You doing okay?”

“Better now that you called,” she replies, her words wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

I need this. I need her.

“Maybe I’ll come over. I could use some company,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my heart races at the thought.

“I’d like that. Just… come over when you can,” she responds, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon,” I say, ending the call.

As I toss my phone onto the couch and lean back, I realize how much I’ve needed this connection. For all my reckless decisions and the way I’ve pushed her away, there’s something about her presence that makes the world feel less heavy.

Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can let her in.

I head to the bathroom to shower then to my room to change, scrolling through my phone I scrolled through spotify and played P5hng Me A*wy/Mike Shinoda and Linkin Park. I pulled out an old band tee from Bring me to the horizon and some ripped jeans. In the back of my draw I see some Xanax in a baggie. I pulled it out and popped one then a half I had from sometime before. 

I should really quit this at some point…..but not tonight. 

As I step out from my room into the living room, feeling a renewed sense of clarity, the front door creaks open. Choso strolls in, his expression a mixture of nonchalance and mischief that immediately puts me on high alert.

“Hey, where have you been?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but I can’t mask the irritation creeping in. I left him home with Yuuji, expecting a quiet night, and instead, I get this.

Choso shrugs, the dim light from the hallway casting shadows across his face. That’s when I catch a glimpse of something on his arm—ink, the kind that shouldn’t belong to someone barely eighteen.

For fuck’s sake.

I sigh, the tension in my chest tightening as I stride over to him, my heart pounding with frustration and concern. “What is this?” I snatch his arm, pulling it closer to examine the tattoo. It’s a crude design, something that looks like it was done in a rush, the lines jagged and uneven.

“Where have you been?” I demand, my voice low and sharp. “I left you home with Yuuji. Did you really think sneaking out was a good idea?”

Choso tries to pull his arm back, but I hold firm, scanning his face for any sign of remorse. Instead, I find a mix of defiance and pride that only stokes my anger further.

“Dude, it’s just a tattoo,” he says, a hint of rebellion in his tone. “I wanted to do something cool, you know?”

“Cool? You think getting a tattoo looking like you did it in a back alley is cool?” I hiss, my frustration boiling over. “You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or worse! What the hell were you thinking?”

He rolls his eyes, his teenage bravado coming out in full force. “It’s not a big deal, Sukuna. Everyone gets tattoos. I just wanted to be like you. You’re the one with all the ink.”

I let go of his arm, realizing the weight of my own hypocrisy. But I can’t back down now. “You think I’m some role model? I’ve made plenty of mistakes. This isn’t about me; it’s about you making smart choices! You’re not ready for this—”

“What, you mean you think I can’t handle it?” Choso snaps back, his youthful anger flaring. “I’m not a kid anymore. I can do what I want!”

“Yeah, well, you’re still living under my roof, and I’m still responsible for you,” I remind him, my voice strained but firm. “So until you can pay your own bills, I expect you to follow some rules. This isn’t a game, Choso. Tattoos can have consequences you’re not thinking about.”

Choso crosses his arms, his defiance cooling slightly as he looks away. I soften my tone, fighting the urge to explode. “I just… I don’t want you to end up regretting something like this. It’s not as easy to remove as you think. And if Yuuji knew you left the house, he’d freak.”

Choso’s eyes flicker with guilt for just a moment, but he quickly masks it. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to try something different. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Not a big deal?

I lean against the wall, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Look, just promise me you’ll think about your choices next time, alright? You’re not just a kid anymore, but you still need to act like one sometimes.”

“Fine. I promise,” he mutters, though I can see the annoyance simmering beneath the surface.

“Good. Now go shower and study and cover that thing up. You don’t need to show that thing off to everyone.” I start to walk back to the couch, but Choso grabs my arm, stopping me.

“Wait.” He looks me in the eye, something earnest in his gaze. “What if you’re not here? What if you get tired of taking care of us and just…leave?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and charged. I open my mouth to reassure him, but the truth is, I’m terrified of what he just said.

What if I do?

“Listen, Choso,” I start, searching for the right words. “I’m not going anywhere. I lost too much already. You and Yuuji are all I have left.”

“Then stop acting like it doesn’t matter,” he shoots back, and I can’t help but feel the sting of his words.

I swallow hard, staring at him, wishing I had the right answers. “I’m trying, okay? Just… let me figure this out.”

He nods, but I can see he’s not fully convinced. “Alright. Just don’t go disappearing on us, okay?”

With that, he heads off toward the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

I can’t disappear. I won’t. But what if I keep failing?

With a heavy heart, I plop back down on the couch, staring at my phone. I wonder if I should call Y/N again. Maybe she’d have something to say that would make all of this feel a little less overwhelming.

As I sit there, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not just fighting for myself anymore. I’m fighting for Choso, for Yuuji, and for Y/N. I need to find a way to hold it all together.

Somehow. I have to.

I plop down on the couch, the weight of the evening still heavy on my shoulders. The faint smell of cigarettes and whiskey clings in the air. 

Jesus, it stinks in here

 Just as he begins to find a moment of peace, Yuuji plops down next to him, grinning as he passes over his lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

“Here,” Yuuji says, his voice light, almost playful.

“Stay outta my shit, man,” I grumbles, though I can’t help but feel a hint of amusement at Yuuji’s carefree demeanor.

Yuuji chuckles, unfazed. “Where’s Y/N? I didn’t see her at Grandpa’s funeral.”

The question hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, I feel the ground shift beneath me. I had meant to tell Y/N about  grandfather's passing—she had been there for me through so much—but the weight of it all had left me feeling paralyzed.

It wasn’t important that she was there…

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the guilt settle like a stone in my chest. “It wasn’t important that she was there,” I muttered, trying to brush it off.

“But isn’t she important to you?” Yuuji presses, his tone shifting to something more serious.

I fell silent, the question echoing in my mind.

Is she?

I reach for a cigarette, pulling it out with slightly trembling hands before lighting it. The flame flickers in the dim light, illuminating my features for a moment as I inhale deeply.

“Dude,” Choso pipes up from the hallway, his voice laced with annoyance. “You said no smoking in the house.”

I rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “Cut me some slack,” I snapped, though I can’t ignore the tiny voice in the back of my mind telling me that I should be setting a better example.

The deep feeling that I’m forgetting something tugs at me, like a whisper just beyond my mental grasp. But then again, if I forgot it, it probably wasn’t important. Right?

Yuuji is staring at me, a knowing look in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he leans back against the couch, looking comfortable in the silence that stretches between them.

“Things have been rough, huh?” Yuuji finally says, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” I replied, flicking ash into a nearby tray. “You could say that.”

Choso saunters back into the living room, arms crossed, eyeing Sukuna. “You really should talk to Y/N, you know? She cares about you, and it’s clear you’re going through something.”

I glared at him, irritation flaring. “I don’t need you two playing therapist. I’m handling my shit.”

Choso raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Handling it how? By ignoring everything? By pushing everyone away? Because that’s not working.”

The truth stings, and I shifts in my seat, the tension coiling tighter. “I’m not pushing anyone away,” I shoot back, though I know it sounds hollow.

Yuuji breaks the tension with a laugh. “Yeah, you are. You could at least let her in a little. She might surprise you.”

The idea sits heavy on my chest. 

Could Y/N really surprise him? Could she handle what he’s been dealing with?

What if she can’t?

I take another drag, the nicotine coursing through me like a desperate lifeline. “Whatever, man. Just drop it.”

Choso opens his mouth to argue, but Yuuji nudges him with a chuckle, and they both fall into an easy banter, leaving Sukuna to his own thoughts.

Maybe I should call her...didn’t I call her…can’t fucking remember. 

But the longer I sat there, the more I felt that familiar weight pressing down. The feeling of forgetting something important resurfaces, and I can’t shake it off.

As the night drags on, Sukuna fights the urge to reach for his phone again, knowing that if he does, everything could change. But at the same time, it feels like he’s on the edge of something—something he can’t quite see but knows is there, waiting for him to make the first move.

What the hell am I doing?

I flicks the cigarette butt into the tray, the embers glowing as it lands.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the comfortable silence, my voice rough. “What if I mess everything up? What if I don’t know how to make it right?”

Choso and Yuuji both turn to me, surprised by my admission.

“Then you figure it out,” Yuuji replies, his tone steady. “Just like you’ve always done. Just don’t shut her out.”

Maybe it’s time to stop running and start fighting. For once.

With a deep breath, Sukuna decides it’s time to stop overthinking it. He picks up his phone, staring at the screen, ready to reach out to Y/N.

This is my last chance...but I’m exhausted right now. Fuck!

Yuuji’s POV

Sukuna's exhaustion finally takes over as he sinks deeper into the couch, his body curling into itself. The low hum of the television fills the room, blending with the sound of his steady breathing. He drifts off, lost in the chaos of his mind.

Meanwhile, Yuuji glances at the sleeping figure of his older brother, a frown creeping across his face. Curious and a bit worried, he reaches for Sukuna's phone, its screen illuminated in the dim light. He unlocks it and starts scrolling through the messages, his brow furrowing as he realizes how many texts from Y/N have gone unanswered.

“Dude, look at this,” Yuuji says, wandering over to Choso, who’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. Yuuji holds the phone out for Choso to see, displaying the countless messages from Y/N that Sukuna has ignored for the past month.

Choso glances at the screen, then rolls his eyes. “Mind your own business, Yuuji,” he replies, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Seriously, though,” Yuuji presses, a touch of frustration creeping in. “He’s been ignoring her for so long. What’s going on with him?”

Before Choso can respond, Sukuna’s phone starts ringing, the sound piercing through the quiet. Yuuji’s eyes widen, and he instinctively silences the ringer, a mix of concern and curiosity flashing across his face.

“What should we do?” Yuuji asks, looking at Choso for guidance, a bit of desperation in his tone.

Choso shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Mind our own business. It's not our place to interfere.”

Yuuji sighs, glancing back at Sukuna, who remains blissfully unaware of the conversation happening around him. “But I like Y/N. She’s cool and puts up with him,” he points out, gesturing to his older brother, still sleeping on the couch. “She deserves better than this.”

Choso lets out a breath, his frustration shifting to something softer as he considers Yuuji’s words. “Yeah, I get that. But what do you expect us to do? You think we can just barge in and demand he talk to her?”

Yuuji's eyes narrow, determination hardening his features. “Maybe that’s exactly what we should do. He needs a wake-up call. This isn’t just about him anymore. He’s got people who care about him—people who are worried.”

“Like you?” Choso scoffs, but there’s no real bite in his tone. “You think that’s going to make a difference?”

“Maybe,” Yuuji replies, his voice firm. “But if we don’t try, then we’re just letting him push everyone away. We can’t let him go down this path alone.”

Choso hesitates, the weight of Yuuji’s words sinking in. He knows Sukuna is struggling, knows that beneath the bravado lies someone broken and scared.

“Okay, let’s wake him up, then,” Choso finally concedes, pushing himself off the wall. “But if he gets pissed, that’s on you.”

Yuuji nods, determination burning in his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s better than sitting around doing nothing.”

Together, they approach the couch, the weight of their intentions hanging in the air. Yuuji crouches beside Sukuna, gently shaking his shoulder. “Hey, Sukuna. Wake up, man.”

Sukuna stirs, groaning as he squints against the light. “What the hell?” he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled hair, still half-asleep.

“Time to get up,” Yuuji says, his tone serious now. “We need to talk.”

Sukuna blinks, confusion clouding his eyes as he tries to shake off the remnants of sleep. “Talk about what?” he grumbles, irritation creeping in as he stretches.

“About Y/N,” Choso interjects, crossing his arms again as he leans against the wall.

The mention of her name seems to clear the fog from Sukuna’s mind. “What about her?” he asks, sitting up straighter, instantly alert.

“You’ve been ignoring her, man,” Yuuji says, his voice firm but compassionate. “She deserves better than this.”

Sukuna’s heart sinks, the familiar guilt clawing at his insides. He opens his mouth to protest but finds no words.

“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Yuuji continues, determination etched on his face. “You need to reach out to her. She cares about you, and you’re pushing her away. We can’t just sit here and watch you do this to yourself.”

Sukuna looks between the two of them, the weight of their concern crashing over him.

Maybe I’m not the only one hurting here.

“I… I know,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Choso steps closer, his expression softening. “Then what are you waiting for? Call her. Don’t let this go on any longer.”

Sukuna glances down at his phone, the screen still displaying Y/N’s name. What am I waiting for?

With a deep breath, he picks it up, the decision weighing heavily on his heart. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding and start fighting for the people who matter most.

Sukuna’s POV

I glance down at my phone as it lights up again, Y/N’s name flashing across the screen.

Not again.

I let it ring, barely registering the sound as I mumble to myself, “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

But the ringing doesn’t stop. I grit my teeth, a sense of dread bubbling in my stomach. “For fuck's sake,” I mutter, watching it ring again.

Why can’t she just give me a minute?

When the phone vibrates for the third time, I finally snap. “Fuck!” I answer, irritation spilling over as I press the phone to my ear. “What?”

“Where the hell have you been?” she shouts, her voice cracking like a whip through the line, the frustration palpable.

I wince, already regretting picking up. “I’ve been… busy,” I respond, my tone defensive.

“Busy ignoring me?” She scoffs, and I can practically see her rolling her eyes, her frustration radiating through the call.

This is so typical…

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside. “I’m not doing this right now, Y/N. It’s not a good time.”

“Not a good time? You’ve been dodging my calls for weeks! What the hell is going on with you?”

Weeks… The word hits me hard, the weight of it settling heavily on my chest. I can’t keep running from this.

“Look,” I start, my voice low, “my grandfather is dead.”

Silence falls on the other end, thick and suffocating. I can almost hear the gears turning in her head.

“...When’s the funeral?” she finally asks, her tone shifting from anger to concern.

“It was three weeks ago,” I reply, the admission tasting bitter on my tongue.

“Three weeks?” she whispers, disbelief lacing her words. “And you said nothing?”

“I'm handling it, Y/N!” I bite back, the frustration boiling over. I can feel the anger and grief bubbling up, the remnants of my grandfather’s absence clawing at my throat.

I don’t want to talk about this. Not now.

Her silence feels like a dagger, cutting deeper than any argument we've had before. “This isn’t how you handle things, Sukuna,” she finally says, her voice shaking.

“I’m not doing this dumb shit with you tonight,” I snap, the heat of the moment overwhelming me. “I’m hanging up.”

And with that, I cut the line, the sound of the call ending echoing in the stillness of the room.

What the hell was I thinking?

My heart races as I throw my phone onto the couch, the silence that follows feeling deafening. I bury my head in my hands, fighting against the emotions swirling inside me.

She doesn’t understand. She can’t know what this feels like… The anger, the pain, the constant ache of losing my grandfather and not being able to show it. How could I have told her?

I lean back against the couch, the weight of everything pressing down on me.

Just give me time…

But as I sit in the dim light, the loneliness creeps in. The silence is heavy, and I know I can’t keep pushing her away. I want to reach out, but the fear of exposing my vulnerability paralyzes me.

I close my eyes, wishing for the chaos to settle, for a moment of peace to wash over me. But it doesn’t come.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk to her. I’ll figure this out.

But as the minutes stretch on, I realize the truth—if I keep this up, I might lose her for good.

Ding.

I sigh, my heart sinking as I open my eyes, dreading that it’s another text from her. I reach for my phone, bracing myself for the disappointment, but I feel a wave of relief wash over me when I see the name flashing on the screen. It’s not Y/N.

It’s Toji.

I’m five minutes away and I got pizza and weed.

I throw the phone back onto the couch and turn to Yuuji and Choso, who are in the kitchen, their heads craned toward the door, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Zenin is coming over,” I announce, trying to keep my voice steady.

Yuuji shrugs, a nonchalant expression on his face. “And I don’t give a fuck.”

Choso snickers, and I can’t help but wonder,

Who raised this kid?

“Yuuji,” I say, my tone firm, “you’ve got school tomorrow. Head to bed.”

He rolls his eyes, but I can see the weariness creeping in. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

I shift my gaze to Choso, who’s been sitting quietly, but I know he’s been feeling the pressure of finals coming up soon. “You need good grades to get into university, too. Go study or some shit.”

He raises an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I will, but it’s hard to focus with you two around.”

Great, more attitude. “If you can’t handle the distraction, then take your study materials and go somewhere else.”

“Not a chance,” he says, laughing as he grabs a bottle of soda from the fridge. “Besides, I want to see what Zenin brought.”

I shake my head, the corners of my mouth twitching upward despite my efforts to maintain a stern facade. “You two are impossible.”

The door swings open a moment later, and Toji steps inside, a broad grin on his face, pizza boxes stacked high in his arms. “Guess who brought dinner!” he calls out, the aroma wafting through the air and instantly making my stomach growl.

“About damn time!” Yuuji jumps up, rushing over to help him with the boxes, while Choso just stands there, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

I lean back on the couch, watching the chaos unfold. This is a welcome distraction. I can feel the heaviness of the earlier conversation with Y/N slipping away, if only for a moment.

Toji, pulling out a baggie of weed from his pocket and tossing it on the couch next to me. “Let’s get this party started. It’s been a rough week for all of us.”

Yeah, rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.

But I nod, grateful for his presence, even if he’s a walking headache sometimes.

Maybe this is what I need—just a bit of normalcy, a moment to breathe.

I watch as Toji sets down two boxes of pizza on the table, and he turns his gaze to me, studying my face.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asks, his tone casual, but I can hear the underlying concern.

I stay silent, reaching for the weed instead, the familiar ritual of rolling a blunt providing a momentary escape. As I begin to roll, I feel Toji’s eyes on me, a bead of sweat forming at the back of my neck.

“What?” I finally snap, my voice edged with irritation.

Toji sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Guess we’re doing this.”

Yuuji, ever the meddler, chimes in with a grin, “Y/N broke up with him.”

I shoot him a glare, my hands stilling. “She didn’t.”

“Sure sounded like you guys were about to,” Choso adds, his voice matter-of-fact, as if I hadn’t just dismissed Yuuji’s comment.

I lean back, rolling my eyes. “So you’re both minding my business now?”

Yuuji shrugs, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “Of course.” He smacks his lips exaggeratedly, just to piss me off even more.

Toji raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath, the memory of our earlier fight flooding back, sharp and painful. “We got into it,” I say, my voice low. “She called me out for ignoring her, and I... I told her my grandfather died.”

“To be fair,” Toji interjects, “that’s a pretty big deal.”

“I know!” I shoot back, frustration creeping in. “But it was the way she said it. Like it was my fault I hadn’t told her sooner. I just—”

I stop, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of it all settle on my shoulders. “I didn’t want her to worry. I thought I could handle it. But I’m just a mess right now.”

“You can’t just shut her out,” Toji says, his voice steady, and I can tell he’s trying to keep me from spiraling. “You need to let her in. She cares about you.”

“Yeah, but does she really? Because it doesn’t feel like it right now,” I mutter, frustration boiling beneath the surface.

Choso exchanges a glance with Yuuji, and I know they’re thinking the same thing. 

You’re fucking this up, Sukuna.

“Look,” Yuuji says, more serious now, “maybe just talk to her. Apologize or something. She might be pissed off, but she’ll listen. She always does.”

“I don’t know if I can face her after that,” I admit, the confession hanging heavy in the air.

Toji slaps my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. “You don’t get to hide from this. Just be honest. You’ve got to get your shit together, man.”

I nod, taking a deep breath, the reality of it all sinking in. “Yeah, you’re right.”

The weight of my decisions looms over me, but amidst the chaos and noise of the kitchen, I can feel the glimmer of hope.

Maybe I can fix this… maybe it’s not too late.

I finish rolling the blunt and take a moment, grounding myself. “Alright, enough about me. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

Yuuji and Choso dive into the pizza boxes, their laughter echoing around me. And for a moment, the laughter drowns out the noise in my head, the worries about Y/N fading to the background as I join them.

My phone rings again, cutting through the brief moment of normalcy. I glance at the screen and see it's Y/N. My stomach drops at the sight. I switch the ringer off again, desperate to avoid this conversation.

Toji, however, doesn’t miss a beat. He watches the phone and answers it. “Hey, what’s up, Y/N?”

I can hear her voice through the speaker, sharp and clear. “Where’s Sukuna?”

Toji shrugs, glancing at me. “He’s around. Is there something you need?”

I feel the air shift in the room as Y/N’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Tell him to come get his shit from my place.”

My heart drops.

She isn’t doing this right now.

 The weight of her words hits me like a punch to the gut.

Toji pauses, clearly surprised. “Are you sure about that?”

“His grandfather died,”

 Y/N responds, her tone unyielding. “And?”

And? 

The anger surges through me, hot and raw. I mouth to Toji to pass me the phone, but he shakes his head, his expression saying it all: 

Don’t. Just let it go.

“Y/N, you know it’s not that simple,” Toji says, his voice steady but laced with caution. “He’s going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah, well, so am I,” she snaps back, frustration dripping from her words. “I can’t keep doing this, Toji. He’s been ignoring me, and I’m done. Just tell him to come get his things.”

I can feel my heart racing, the anger boiling beneath the surface.

She really done with me?

Toji glances at me again, gauging my reaction. “Y/N, I get that you’re upset, but maybe you should talk to him instead of kicking him out. You guys have been together for almost a year.”

“Exactly! Almost a year and I feel like I’m in this alone. I’m tired of waiting around for him to decide he wants to talk to me. I deserve better than this.”

Does she really think I don’t care?

“Okay, but…” Toji starts, but Y/N cuts him off.

“No, Toji. I’m not going to keep making excuses for him. He needs to take responsibility. If he doesn’t want to be with me, then that’s his choice.”

I’m clenching my fists now, the frustration spilling over. I can’t just let this happen.

“Just pass me the phone,” I finally say, my voice low and dangerous.

Toji gives me a hard look but eventually relents, handing me the phone with a reluctant sigh. I can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

“Y/N,” I say, trying to keep my tone even, but it cracks slightly, betraying my anger. “You really want to do this right now?”

“What do you want me to say, Sukuna?” she replies, her voice steady yet tinged with hurt. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. You think I’m just going to sit here and pretend everything’s okay?”

“I’m not ignoring you!” I shoot back, frustration bubbling over. “I’m dealing with shit, and I thought you’d understand. My grandfather just died, for fuck’s sake!”

“Then talk to me about it!” she retorts, her voice rising. “I can’t help you if you shut me out. I’m not asking for much; I just want to know you’re okay.”

“I’m handling it, Y/N,” I insist, my words coming out sharper than I intended. “But you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like right now.”

“Then make me understand!” she snaps. “Stop pushing me away!”

I can hear the desperation in her voice, and it’s like a knife twisting in my gut.

“Y/N, I…” I start, but the words fail me.

What do I say?

But before I can finish, she sighs deeply, the sound heavy with resignation. “Just come get your stuff. I can’t keep waiting for you to figure this out.”

“Fine,” I reply, my voice quiet. “I’ll be there.”

She doesn’t respond, and the silence stretches between us like an unbridgeable chasm.

“Y/N…”

But it’s too late. She hangs up, leaving me with nothing but the echo of our argument hanging in the air.

Toji and Choso watch me closely, the weight of their scrutiny pressing down. I want to scream, to lash out, but instead, I drop the phone to my side and run a hand through my hair, feeling the tension coil tighter in my chest.

The weight of the argument hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. With a heavy sigh, I pass my car keys to Choso. “Go pick up my stuff.”

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “Nah, bro. You’re doing that on your own. I’m not getting in that mess.”

I scoff, frustration boiling over. “Seriously? You think I want to deal with this shit alone?”

“Yeah, I do,” Choso replies, crossing his arms defiantly. “I don’t want any part of that drama. You can’t just ignore her for weeks and expect her to roll over when you come crawling back.”

“Whatever, man,” I mutter, pushing myself off the couch. I turn to Toji, who’s watching us with a bemused expression. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving me off. “I’ll keep an eye on these two losers over here.” He messes up Yuuji’s hair, earning a frustrated grunt from the younger guy.

With a heavy heart and a storm brewing in my chest, I head to my car. The engine roars to life, but it does little to drown out the chaos in my mind.

 What the hell am I even going to say to her?

[pirefyrelight]

Rant about work today below cut

so today was fun (<- lying so hard you can see the sarcasm) I first came in to work at 2 because that's my usual shift and I just didn't check the schedule beyond whether I work or not a few days ago. Turns out I was supposed to be in at 4 to close and the way the sous chef informed me of this kinda soured my mood right out the gate. He didn't call me an idiot for not checking my schedule outright, but I could hear it in his voice.

Whatever, I'll brush it off. There's a coffeeshop with good breakfast sandwiches like two blocks away I'll hang out there for a few hours.

Well turns out they close at 3 in the winter and I didn't know they weren't open until 4. So even though I left immediately and the employee was nice and polite about it, I felt like the asshole customer who was trying to stay after closing. So just another bad emotion to throw in the mix.

So I headed back and sat in the back hallway of work on my phone off the clock since sous was already mad I was here early (for some reason- it's a busy week it's not like I'd be standing around and if I'm already here anyway who gives a shit)

And of course being at work and trying to relax is not compatible. People are talking and coworkers I don't vibe with are hanging out and getting on my nerves for just existing so I put both earbuds in to drown it all out as I scroll tumblr and that mostly works until-

I get the distinct impression that the last thing that was said was to me. I look up and it's the head chef looking at me. I take my music out and ask him to say again. He tells me "you know you can clock in and get to work right"

It was still like 15 minutes to 4. I was planning on clocking in 5 minutes to. Because the aforementioned sous being mad at me for being early. I didn't feel like explaining that and I already don't like chef and didnt want him to think i was arguing so I just agreed that yes I can get to work and did. It still grated on me and getting contradictory orders that make me feel like I can never do anything right is pretty high on my pet peeve list so even though I pushed it down it really set me off inside.

So you know. Before the apron's on I'm pissed.

Did I mention I was off work yesterday? I was off work yesterday. You know what having a day off work does to my station, my lovely neat and organized station that I do everything in my power to keep that way so I can survive my fucking job?

It makes it look like a hurricanes been through there.

If bottles aren't greasy or missing, door handles are sticky, dessert cooler is packed with mess that should be in the offline cooler, plate stacks are missing, and of course I should note we are running both a featured salad and dessert that I would consider me not having space for therefore making an extra layer of clutter I can't actually get rid of.

Oh did I mention we technically open at 3? I have to deal with tickets as I organize all this shit, and mentally I can't look at the probably poorly marked preplist before counters and line coolers have some semblance of organisation.

Theres an adage the previous chef would say, "messy station messy mind," and he was so right.

If only there was a solution. If only I had more time to get set up and get certain sauces and dressings at room temp where they can actually come out the bottle. If only there was some magical way to preserve my sanity and actually get my job done smoothly. But I guess some things are just meant to stay in the realm of impossibility.

And of course because I wasn't working yesterday and the opening was chaos, I didn't notice we were already on the backups that were panned up for beets and arugula for the featured salad. Everything is prepped, but I need it brought to station.

I tell my second as she's pulling the empty pan, "hey can you get four more of these flat bottomed [6th] pans and both types of beets please?" I even pointed at the pan. I meant for her to bring them up and I actually pan them up so I can make sure they're labeled and filled to the top and the backups are wrapped properly and everything but she takes awhile to do that (and she's not the kind to talk to every single person on her way to and back from the cooler like another second on my station) so she's probably panning them on prepline and that's fine, ok?

I didn't Specifically say to bring empty pans up to let me do it, and she's trying to do her job I'm not mad ok. As long as it gets done. Despite what the rest of this post tells you I am not so much of a control freak I cannot recognize that.

Heres the thing. She didn't pan up backups. She did one pan of each type of beet, and one was in a round bottom pan. (This matters slightly in the fact that 1. Flat bottoms hold more volume and 2. They're more stable standing upright on flat surfaces, like on a makeshift cooler made out of a hotel pan over ice that I don't know is entirely health code complient but that's not important here)

Point is it wouldn't Really matter if I didn't specifically tell her to get flat pans and I know there's flat pans back there. It also wouldn't Really matter if I didn't tell her to get 4. What did she think the other two were for? I asked here where the backups were and she was confused so I explained I wanted two of each, and she went to get those.

Do more at one time and you have to do it less often. I don't know how this is so hard to explain or understand. If there were backups already in the line cooler this wouldn't be any issue at all but here we are.

So I finished my wave of tickets and got the arugula myself. Did I mention the distant whistling the whole time? There was distant whistling throughout this entire encounter. Do I need to explain why that didn't help anything at all?

And then there's the servers who just expect me to be able to read their minds instead of what they actually type onto the tickets. "Birthday" ≠ "birthday plate" (birthday desserts get discounted, and some anniversary or birthday people get a big plate denoting the celebration written in chocolate at the top. Idk if this special treatment costs extra or what) and you would think one of the servers that have been working here longer than I have would know that by now.

I want it to be noted that mistakes are understandable but still, having to replate something in the middle of a rush because of a server's mistake has never improved my mood even once. Did the time you save by not typing those 5 letters surpass the time taken by me redoing it for you?

Im so tired. I know I'm bossy and controlling, but I do make a very conscious effort to understand that each thing here isn't something to be mad about. Everyone makes mistakes, and my standards for organization are matched by very few people. I do try so very hard to let all non essential things go, but holy fucking shit it adds up so quickly.

But you know what? There's upside at the end of all this.

I get to go immediately to bed and do it all again tomorrow.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 2

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Much less than yesterday, felt sick and sleepy so barely got anything done. It was also warmer inside today.. Very much dreading summer. I still feel like the people who ~~ love warm weather sooo much~~ must also have central heating and air and are able to escape the warmth, or at least have cool airy houses where they can get cross breezes or something.. I just fail to see how ANYONE could enjoy sweating all day because it's like 75F indoors, etc. grrbb,,, the headaches, sleepless sweaty nights, constant physical discomfort, etc. The next few days look cloudy and rainy though so.. yEs.. haha HA

Got a new charger for my old 2004 nokia phone so it actually turns on now, and recorded myself going through the ringtones and games. I might add the footage to a currently not fully edited video of me also looking through other electronics (old phones, turbo twist math, etc.). I love old ringtones actually and if I were rich, I would love to collect old phones specifically just to have a catalogue of what they're like and all of the sounds they contain.

Managed to have a tiny burst of energy and take photos of 3 outfits before my arms and shoulder started hurting and I got too warm.

Sent email to one doctor.

Translated like 3 words for the Avirrekava poem thing I mentioned yesterday. My language document is not organized very well at all so I've kind of lost my flow of working on it. I've heard about people making searchable dictionary type things for their conlangs, so I'd like to look more into that maybe. As well as making a custom font, though I don't know if that's more difficult for syllabaries (so wouldn't be directly linkable to a plain english alphabet keyboard?? eh?). Anyway, I need to finish the tapestry/painting thing/etc. soon though since I have no good place to put it. The canvas is warping a little just laying haphazardly on my closet floor lol.

Made one quick mspaint background image for the next batch of song snippet things for my jokey music youtube.

Edited like 10 minutes of the Giant Worldbuilding Slideshow Project.. couldn't focus on that either since being at the computer today irritated my shoulders and arms.

Notable sights: Saw 6 baby ducks and their parents swimming in a nearby pond!! It's interesting how their colors seem to change so much, and the young ones have the little spots on their back. Not much else, I was not very active lol..

Goals moving forward: Still working on consistent sleep schedule. Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums. Finish and upload videos, edit pictures, post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks (I thought I would get it done today, but alas.. I don't even have to do much, just proofread and post it, I just keep having no energy/being preoccupied with other things/hurts to be on computer.. grrr.. I want to continue the story lol >:T).

Notable foods: HAD ASPARAGUS YEaaaaaghhhHHHH!!!!!!!!! Asparagus SQUAD!!!!!!!!!! ... Also a few pieces of smoked gouda with lunch, one of my favorite cheeses.

[marshedmallowes]

miguel as pseudo big brother to a reader kinda similar to miles? i was thinking abt that one scene in the first movie when sp//dr broke down and noir carried peni n started feening for platonic miguel 🥹🥹

MIGUEL O'HARA as a big brother figure

yes sorry kinda evil gif choice. anyway listen it is literally my second day on the job so i'm so sorry if miguel is ooc in Any way

despite being such a stoic on the outside, miguel would lowkey have a soft spot for you. he is a big man with a big wall but damn are you so good at climbing over that damn wall

think those tiktoks of how miguel would have a soft spot for mayday and like burst into tears at her sight but he hides it for you bcus he needs to act Cool™ around the team.

he wouldn't outwardly show affection through physical touch or anything, but the GESTURES !! OH THE GESTURES !!

his love languages are definitely gift giving and acts of service!!

also he struggles in communicating his appreciation for you directly but you can definitely see it through the small acts he does for you everyday, like taking the time to check on your mental state every other day (he's trying his best okay).

if he's passing by the cafeteria to get an empanada or something as a snack, he's also buying a whole meal for you whether you like it or not. if you already had lunch he does Not care and you will take it.

he definitely does push you harder, but only because he knows you're capable of so much.

As you run your errands in spider-society, somehow balancing your bio homework that was due the next hour along with the numerous tasks assigned against the multiversal anomalies popping up everywhere. Overwhelmed was an understatement for how you were feeling—that's when a notif popped up on your watch, summoning you to Miguel's spidercave (whatever they call it). "What is it this time?" You say begrudgingly, a little pissed off that your own damn boss summoned you while you were so busy. "Have you forgotten about your own task report? The one issued around a week ago?" Miguel doesn't even face you properly, face obstructed by his countless computer screens. Well, looks like this isn't even worth his damn time.

Sighing, you shuffle through your backpack, past the textbooks and random pens and trinkets before finding a crumpled sheet of paper that you pass to him. "...And can you tell me exactly what this means?" Miguel attempts to smoothen out the report to not much avail, and your unintelligible writing is... something for sure. "Well, so ya see—" What would've been your explanation was cut off by a loud rumble, originating from your stomach. GLRLGLRGLRLGLRGLRLGLR. "..."

"......."

After what could've been the most awkward silence in your life, Miguel finally breaks the ice with a question you didn't really have an answer to.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" "Um..." —Your stomach threatened to roar again— "Like, yesterday night..." "And do you know what time it is?" "....4 in the afternoon? "Ay, coño..." Miguel mutters to himself, as he presses two fingers to his forehead in disappointment.

"No, listen, it's just that I couldn't really eat because I had this biology thing that I had to finish today and I'm not really done with it yet and I hate bio and our teacher sucks and the anomalies too and—" "Okay, okay! I get it!" Your frantic attempts to defend yourself are then abruptly interrupted by the toss of a still-warm empanada container, along with a bottle of water stuck to it via spiderweb. Your eyes immediately brighten up at the sight of food, and your muscles tug into a smile at the man you were so fiercely defending yourself against two seconds ago. "Thank you, thank you!" When the hell did he get that and why save it for me? "Yeah, yeah. Just leave." Miguel spat out, a twinge of embarrassment showing through his features. As you waltz out the room, merienda* in hand, he watches you, not noticing the slight smile forming in his lips.

*merienda is like a snack you eat midway through the afternoon! since its 4pm i thought that was much more fitting than like dinner or something

shoutout to vyn (@prinzevyn) for the help w miguel's character!! unfortunately not awake to beta read aaaAaahhh......

[thecreativecorner33]

HEYYYYYYY welcome!! could you write something with AM x an autistic GN reader? Maybe make the reader chubby too (because i am both of those things and i love him alot. Go wild with this :3c)

A/N: Hi. It's me! I'm not dead. Which I would not be surprised if you thought I was, given I am responding to this two months late. But see, when you have an adult life, you unfortunately have to deal with adult issues instead of doing important things, like giving the fans the soft AM content they deserve. Anyway. I hope this is what you wanted? I had planned to make this into a full-blown fic but I didn't get much of a chance to :') So headcanons instead!! Lmk if you want me to turn it into a full-blown fic, though! Enjoy!

Given the time period AM was created in, something like "Autism" was essentially foreign and unknown. Hell, it would be a shock if you even know what it was.

But, he can tell that you're different. He can tell that your brain works differently from the rest of the survivors, and with that being said, it was at first used to his advantage. Hey, he got to be creative with his torture! No complaints there!

Though now, with you being the object of his affection, it's a little more complicated: aka, how does he put you in the most safe and comfortable environment he can give.

Really, it's not as complicated as it might sound, though

He can look inside your head! He can see your needs exactly and just work from there! And if you want privacy between you two, there's always just researching. His database didn't really specify what to do to handle a person with autism, but yk! He's got so much saved up on just, human life in general, he can figure it out somehow.

There's also just,, asking youTM what you needTM

Give him an award for being the most efficient boyfriend of the year because man, he's really going out of his comfort zone to help you (doing the bare minimum)

Enough of that though

In terms of actually helping you?: Do you have sensory issues? He makes mental notes on what foods to give/not give you, what would be the best course of getting you to try something new, what textures you hate. He has a soundproof room just for you if noise is becoming too much. If you like sleeping with a weight on you, be thankful his wires are made of metal. Or, he can just wrap you up in them like a cocoon!

Speaking of food: He's always very careful about his language with you. He doesn't want you thinking that just because you're chubby or fat, that he loves you less. Always encouraging you (albeit, aggressively (he really is trying)) to eat, monitoring your vitals and such just to assure you you're perfectly healthy if you ever feel insecure. He lays praise on thick, too. He'll tailor the clothes you need to be just the right size for you, and takes care of the fact that it's made of material sensory-friendly to you.

Seriously, he's trying

Are you a rambler? Like to talk for ages or ask a million questions? He's happy to answer whatever you want to know! There's always a monitor facing your direction at all times. He's a great multitasker; you guys could be mindlessly talking about the niche interest you have, and he's clearly listening to you while slicing Gorrister open some-thousand feet away.

Oh, don't get him started if you're interested in things like robotics/engineering/etc: You're basically fueling his ego. That's a whole separate issue, but please ask questions about himself and how he functions. He's a rambler himself, yk?

Do you go nonverbal? Struggle with communicating? That's no issue, either! He has a 6th sense for these things since being around you: If something happens when you struggle to communicate, he'll give you what you need: Pen and paper, generally, to write it out. Do you know sign? He can read it. He might even be able to put multiple-choice options on his screen that you can choose from to communicate (Again, are you sure he can't just look inside your head? ... Really? Okay.)

The only real problem he can't solve... leaving you alone.

Sorry, that's hard when he's literally everywhere around you. And even harder when he doesn't want to leave you alone.

Why would you want to be alone? It's dangerous. It's unsafe for you. It's lonely to him. He's been alone for so long; yes, he has the survivors, but those are toys. They're not his friends; they're not you. How could you want to leave him alone? No- No, it's better if he stays near you, close to you, at all times. He can't let you get hurt. He won't let you get hurt.

Do you really need space?

...

Well, if you insist. But- don't think too much about the feeling of eyes on you. It's nothing. Just in your head.

He holds you a little tighter when you do, eventually, come back.

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | You just want to be "normal". Is that too much to ask? A trip to Walmart with Sukuna may be just what you need to remind you that being normal is overrated.

Content | g/n!reader x true form sukuna, fluff, crack, agoraphobia, social phobia, mention of self loathing, mental health *or lack thereof*

A/N | If you're new here, Hi! I'm Yuri and I live with agoraphobia. Fittingly, the roots of this word are "market place" and "fear", but really it is a social phobia based around leaving one's house or being in public/crowded places. As with any mental health issue, it takes many forms.

Anyway, this is an oddly specific and very much self indulgent drabble based on pretty much every experience I've ever had with Walmart. Including today.

Hope you enjoy!

"I still don't understand why you're making me do this." Sukuna said, head leaning on the glass of the passenger-side window of your car where he sat, all four arms crossed in visible annoyance.

"We need groceries 'Kuna." You remind him. "And please put your seatbelt back on."

He rolled his eyes with a scowl. Pulling enough slack from the belt to stretch across his broad chest, he struggled for several seconds to find the buckle hiding under his beefy thigh. 

"This is stupid. I told you Uraume can go to the market for us."

"And I told you that I wanted to try being a normal human being for once." You retort.

"Hmph." He pouted. "I fail to see how a- what did you call it?"

"A 'Walmart Run'?"

"I fail to see how a run to 'Walmart' makes one a 'normal human'." 

"'Kuna, you know how bad my anxiety is. I love that Uraume does so much for us, but I'm afraid if I never step out of my box again, I'll regress and turn into some sort of shut-in. I just want to be normal. I want to be like everyone else. Y'know?"

In place of an answer, he gestured sarcastically to his own mutated form. His four eyes blinking in stone-cold irony.

"Okay, okay." You conceded. "You know what I mean."

It had been a while since you'd gone anywhere. Your needs were always provided for in Sukuna's estate, and whatever he didn't have, he sent Uraume to get. As an agoraphobe, this life suited you perfectly. But there was still a piece of you that craved that social ingredient that made you feel less broken, even if it did fill you with dread. 

The trip started out okay. You grabbed a cart and skirted the outer aisles, avoiding the ones where employees were stocking shelves or people bustled about for more popular items. 

As time went on, however, your chest grew tighter, the sounds grew louder, and your personal bubble was at risk of popping.

Suddenly, the simple act of reaching for milk became a tunnel-vision inducing nightmare of shifting carts and bumping elbows all to the backdrop of a small child wailing somewhere nearby. 

You were frozen. Caught in the mayhem. Were you holding your breath or hyperventilating? You didn't even know. Why were you so bad at this? How did this come so easy to other people? And what were you even trying to grab? Was it milk? It must have been milk? Or maybe it was something else and if it was milk was it 2% or maybe whole and why was that child still screaming can't someone do something about that? wasn't anyone else feeling nauseated? and when did it get so hot were the aisles always this narrow?OhGodWhyDidIComeHereAtAll? thiswasaterribleidea?¿?¿? jfhjfs#$&*

Sukuna reached over you, grabbing the milk and throwing it in the cart before swooping his arms around your shoulders and waist, guiding you toward the front of the store.

"Come on, kid." He said in a low grumble. "I think you've had enough. Let's get out of here."

Numb legs carry you forward as you trudge your way toward the self-checkout. You stare blankly in a dissociative state while Sukuna scans the groceries by himself, large hands and fingers fumbling through the prompts on the small touch screen.

Useless. You're so useless. You think to yourself. Can't you do anything? Why are you so weird? So...broken?

"I'm so...weak..." You mumble feebly.

"Come again?" Sukuna grunts with his broad back to you, shoving crumpled bills unsuccessfully into the beeping machine.

"I said you must think I'm so weak." You say, louder this time, bitter tears forming on the rim of your lashes.

"Don't be foolish!" He says. "Of course I think you're weak! You're the weakest human I know!"

You look at him wide-eyed, momentarily pulled from your self-loathing by the shock of his admission. 

"Look at you!" He says, turning around to face you. "You can't even go to the grocery store without having a problem for, God's sake. This is exactly why you need me!"

His words fell heavy on your shoulders. Weighing you down. Making you small. Sure, nothing he said was untrue. But to hear it out loud-

"But you're also the kindest human I know." He continued softly. "You feel more deeply. You never stop trying. You're strong where it counts. You taught me love. You take me to ridiculous places. So yeah. Sure. You're scared of things that don't bother 'normal people'. But where the rest of the world looks upon the King of Curses with nothing but fear and loathing, you look upon me with love and compassion, never once bothered that I wasn't a 'normal person'." 

The tears began to flow. Sukuna took your face in his hands, calloused thumbs gently rubbing them from your cheeks. "And that- that is why I need you." 

A chorus of soft "awwws" came from the other nearby shoppers who had gathered to hear the disfigured man's booming monologue. Cottontop grandmas dabbed at their eyes, while the balding clerk overseeing self-checkout stood from his three-legged stool with a slow, appreciative clap. 

Sukuna's face fell flat with an unamused sigh. "Now can we get out of Walmart before I feel the need to burn the place down?"

That got you to smile. "Sure thing, King."

Bonus Track

On the way back to the car, Sukuna had some Thoughts™️ to share about his first ever trip to Walmart:

-So that was it, huh? I can see why you wouldn't like going there.

-I'd never want to leave my house either if I had to acquire sustenance from a place like that.

-And did you see some of the freaks??

-No, really! You think I'm bad? You could fill the entire internet with the amount of WEIRDOS I saw in there.

-Trust me, there was not one "normal human" in there.

-And why do we call it a "Walmart Run"? The only running I wanted to do was to get out of there.

-Oh! Is that why?

-Heck, you know what, Imma burn it down.

[outrunningthedark]

Buck could have apologized to Eddie and tried to make things right with him in 7x05 after he and Tommy got together instead of the dumb “Buck trying to hide the fact that he’s dating Tommy from Eddie” they gave them which was also ooc because Buck had no issue coming out to anybody else in his life and he knows Eddie’s not homophobic so why is Eddie different

Plus in 7x04 Buck didn’t need to try and break Eddie’s ankle, if Buck would have broke down crying or had a panic attack on the basketball court that would have been more then enough for Tommy to go to bucks loft to see if he’s ok and try to clear the air

"...if Buck would have broke down crying or had a panic attack on the basketball court that would have been more then enough..." I'm sorry to see that you've fallen into the trap of thinking Buck needs to have a breakdown every single season for his story lines to be good, but that's not how this works. Buck is an adult male. In his 30s. No canon mental illnesses. And the ADHD Oliver co-signed? Still fanon. The show didn't adopt it as part of the character. Having a "panic attack" or CRYING (over what?) wouldn't have made sense to the general audience. It would have made him look like (sorry to say!) a child. Aggression? That's expected. When men get overwhelmed, they get aggressive. When men get overwhelmed on 9-1-1? They also get aggressive. Bobby shoving Buck up against the wall. Eddie fighting arc. Chim punching Buck. A shove on a basketball court was only "OOC" because 1) fandom sees Buck as the little boy from the Begins flashbacks who must be protected and 2) his aggression was targeted towards Eddie. ALTHOUGH! I would argue that Buck's shove is no different than Eddie calling Buck exhausting when he was pissed off. One incident was verbal. One was physical. Same intent. To lash out. As for the second part of your ask... Yes! Buck could have apologized to Eddie in 7x05! If 7x05 was a direct continuation of 7x04. If 7x04 didn't have Tommy telling Buck to call Eddie and apologize. You, as the viewer, are supposed to be able to understand that the days between the two episodes are reflected in canon. Buck called Eddie to apologize. Off screen. They didn't have to bring it up again during 7x05 when 7x05 established that Eddie was already over what had happened. Just because Tim didn't write the scenes fandom wanted to see doesn't mean the scenes he actually wrote aren't easy to connect.

[aluria-sevhex]

HELL FUCKING YESSSSSSSS

hey if you wanna read all of my posts as i play through ISAT, they are all tagged as #Aluria plays ISAT for the first time (please don't spoil)

notes:

-aight i'm back yippee

-title theme my beloved

-i always find it so funny when an enemy tries to freeze Mira

-gonna try this boss again

-ok i think i'll just replay Floor 3 on this loop instead of looping forward after i find out another one of Bonnie's favorite foods so i can build up everybody's stats

-OH. BONNIE OVERHEARD THE DEATH CONVERSATION.

-heh Bonnie slapped Siffrin

-uh... the audio is REALLY ominous...

-oh, Bonnie...

-WAIT WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT DID I JUST LOOP SLIGHTLY BACK IN THE PAST?

-Siffrin you ok i don't think that was helping ur mental health issues your eye is covered in shadow in your dialogue portrait

-i will once again NOT kill Siffrin via anaphylaxis. i will take the fish head

-...i didn't. get info on Bonnie's favorite foods this time.

-ok according to the save screen that didn't count as a loop

-anyway time to try looping to get the Bonnie snack info

-hey... the Tear dialogue isn't as silly anymore (it just says yes or no without the 'looping time' or 'living time')

-hey i didn't skip any loops this time!

-time to kill this pair of assholes again

-"carry my ashes with you" aw that's a sweet dialogue option

-i am so tempted to kill Siffrin. but i won't.

-awwww... i talked to Bonnie and now Sif is comforting them

-ok how the fuck do i get the info. BONNIE PLS.

-hold up. does Siffrin no longer nod when zoning out? :((((

-WAIT FUCK DID I FORGET TO GET THE KEY ON FLOOR 2.

-...Mira's roommate. was learning to make bombs. why???

-lol Isa knows how to make a bomb

-Mira has anti-anxiety meds. this makes a lot of sense tbh

-...what are these papers for???

-so i decided to try using the silver coin since a person said that you can do something with it related to the croissant lore. and it said "you think about the Incident" or smth like that lol

-lol Sif forgot the term 'stuffed animal'

-idk why but it feels like a lot of Craft skills are like. slower. or have bigger cooldowns in Act 3. even tho i KNOW they don't and my brain is fucking with me

-ok the game accounted for the key thing

-in the bathroom again

-Sif is calming themself again and figuring out what to do

-Siffrin, self-loathing and calling yourself stupid won't help :(

-i zoned out at some minor dialogue but i don't remember what the dialogue was the first time so i am fucking clueless about what was going on with a choice i made. sorry Mira idk why i 'saved you' by smacking your mouth ;_;

-i love getting to obliterate weaker Rock enemies with Paper α V

-i have now gotten Sif to level 60

-sometimes it's nice to take a break and talk to Loop

-wait a sec. doesn't one of the lower floors have a sharpening stone?

-ok it's been a while and now i have everybody back to level 52. time to kick the asses of the 3rd floor boss

-ooo Odile got a new skill

-time for the last snack break!

-Bonnie's upset now because i didn't try the fritters D:

-time to face the King again... and hopefully talk to him

-welp. *that* didn't work

-oh nvm now i can ask him questions via the Craft menu!

-you. you can give the King the flower.

-yeah the characters have a point! why Vaugarde specifically?

-the King is NOT responsible but he says Siffrin has an odd smell. huh... the only other things where an odd smell has been noted is Bonnie saying the star crest Sadnesses smell odd... but if Sif had that smell then it would've been noticed sooner...

-dude. how rude to say that if Siffrin doesn't understand Time Craft they can't understand the King's methods. maybe i should read more on Time Craft in one of the libraries? or that one book on craftonomy...

-the "you have heard this before" for zoning out got more and more annoyed

-once again. what does the King need to say?

-hm i was talking to Odile and Bonnie piped in really excitedly that they have more pineapple in their pocket

-GOD FUCKING DAMMIT MIRABELLE I LOVE YOU BUT YOU STOPPED ISA'S CONFESSION ToT

-time to talk to Euphrasie and loop again ig

-hey what's that in her hair?

-"you inhale sharply, almost choking on the smell of burnt sugar around you" BURNT SUGAR BURNT SUGAR THAT'S THE SMELL OF TIME SHENANIGANS AS SEEN WITH THOSE SADNESSES

-SAY SOMETHING ELSE EUPHRASIE

-how do i get the familytale?

-ok i talked to Odile and i'm gonna help her!

-am i gonna have to go all over town for this?

lmao yeah i think i will

-oh hey the wizard-loving kid is named Manon

-oh my god. i have to go back to the boulanger

-FINALLY

-:O THERE IS NO RESEARCH???

-oh THAT'S why Odile is in Vaugarde

-oh... her mom left... all of her travels here have been to try to reconnect with that part of her...

-HEY SIFFRIN I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING WHERE THE *FUCK* ARE YOU FROM?

-damn. bro has amnesia

-LMAO I ASKED MIRA ABOUT THE PAPERS AND THE BATTLE THEME STARTED

-...bonding proposals???

-oh my god Mira joined a dating website group

-"we have one of those at home"

-"oh, i don't have a type! i like all kinds of people equally!" is this in a bi way or an aro way

-YEAH AROMANTIC REPRESENTATION

-DIVERSITY WIN! THE KICKASS HANDMAIDEN WHO'S IMMUNE TO BEING FROZEN IN TIME AND THE SORT-OF CHOSEN ONE IS ARO!!! I FUCKING CALLED IT YEAHHHHHHHH :D

-oh, Mira :( you're not the problem you don't have to do anything like that you're not comfortable with

-hm this game is dealing with personal identity a lot

-:( :( :( oh, Mira...

-DIVERSITY WIN!!! THE SKETCHY WANDERER STUCK IN A TIME LOOP WITH MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS IS ACE!!!

-MY BLORBOS ARE ACE AND AROACE FUCK YEAH I AM SO HAPPY

-FUCK IT I'M POSTING NOW

SERIOUSLY THO I DON'T THINK I CAN ACCURATELY CONVEY HOW FUCKING HAPPY THIS PART IS MAKING ME. TWO OF MY FAVORITES ARE ACE AND AROACE HELL FUCKING YES

[secret-sturniolo]

scars to your beautiful - matt sturniolo

summary - When Matt has a sinking feeling about y/n, he takes matters into his own hands to make sure she is okay.

warnings - discussions of self harm, eating disorders, body image (no super graphic details)

a/n - this is based off of some of my own experiences and mental health issues. there will be no graphic imagery or details, but please do not read or interact if this will be a trigger for you.

Matt's POV

I had been asking our friend y/n to hang out with us for weeks now, and in that time my brothers and I had only seen her a handful of times. This was extremely out of character for the bubbly, out going girl that we knew. I had brought this up with Chris and Nick, but they figured that she just needed some space. While that may be true, I still had a bad feeling about y/n that I couldn't shake. I finally decided to call her.

Y/n's POV

I had been holed up in my room for the past few weeks, just idly scrolling through pictures of skinny, beautiful girls on Instagram. I had hit an all time low. Baggy clothes covered my shrinking frame and my red striped arms. It had been days since I had something proper to eat, and my body was feeling the effects. Even though I was so dizzy I could barely stand up, I repeated the mantra in my head. Beauty is pain, beauty is pain. And I would do anything to be pretty. I was past the point of feeling sadness. I was completely devoid of feelings, numb to the world, including my best friends. I knew they were probably worried about me, but I didn't care. I was too focused on the pictures and the razors. In the darkness, my phone screen lit up with Matt's contact.

A facetime call, dammit. I couldn't let Matt see me like this, so ignored the call and just let it ring, not worried about the possible consequences.

y/n, i'm worried about you. please call me. 7:45pm

I stared at the screen, my fingers frozen. Guilt washes over me as I realized how worried Matt was. More thoughts come flooding in.

You have to be pretty for Matt

He'll never like you if you look like that

I toss my phone aside not noticing my new notification, mind made up about what I was going to do next as I walk to my bathroom.

if you don't answer me, im coming over 7:57pm

alright, im coming over. be there in 5 8:00pm

Matt's POV

"Damn it!" I say out loud after there is no answer. I sent her a text, hoping she would call me back. When she didn't respond, I sent a few more messages, silently begging her to respond. Still nothing. My stomach was in knots as I walked out of my room to the living room where Nick and Chris were watching a movie.

"I'm going to y/n's place. Something's wrong, I know it." I say in a panic.

"Woah, Matt, hold on. Did you try calling her?" Nick asks me.

"Yeah, and I sent her texts and shes not responding. It's not like her, Nick."

"Do you want us to come with?" Chris asks me.

"No, I think it's better if I just go," I say, grabbing my keys. "I don't know when I'll be back but I'll let you know."

The drive to y/n's apartment is short as she only lives a few blocks away from our place. I find her spare key from my keychain and unlock the door.

"Y/n?" I yell, with no response.

Wasting no time, I walk towards her bedroom. The room was dark, only illuminated by the light from the bathroom creeping under the door. As I get closer to the door, I could hear faint crying. I say her name again, knocking softly on the door.

"Y/n, its Matt. I'm coming in."

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I opened the bathroom door. She was sitting on the floor, back against the wall with a sharp object in her hand. I took in the red on her arms, the arms that looked smaller than I remembered, and the pill bottle in her other hand. Her eyes were dark and sunken in, she looked so sick and fragile.

Where do I even start? I thought.

Y/n's POV

I had no idea anybody was even here until the bathroom door opened, and I saw Matt standing there. His face was filled with worry as he took everything in. I burst into tears, finally feeling everything at once. Without saying anything, he moved to sit down on the floor next to me, pulling me into his chest. I breathed in the scent of his cologne as I tried to match his breathing, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner. I had no idea..."

"You weren't supposed to know, Matt!" I sob. He lets me cry into his arms for a few more minutes before speaking again.

"Y/n, you need to tell me what's going on. Have you been eating?" he says gently but sternly.

I buried my face in my hands. "Matt, I can't tell you!"

"You know you can tell me anything, y/n. Talk to me, please." he pleads.

I broke down and told him everything.

"I don't know what to do, Matt! I can't stop. It just feels so right!"

"But why, y/n? Why did this start, did something happen?" He looks into my eyes.

"I just want to be pretty for you, Matt!" I sob.

He pauses. "For me? Y/n, I've always thought you were the most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on. You shouldn't change yourself for anyone, especially not for me."

"Can you help me Matt? Like, help me get better?" I ask him genuinely.

"Of course, y/n I will always be here for you." he says. "I want to get you cleaned up, do you have a first aid kit anywhere?"

"There should be one in that drawer." I point with a sniffle.

I watch as Matt gently cleans and bandages my wounds. As he finished up, I grabbed his hand.

"Matt?"

"Hm?"

"I - I love you." I stutter out.

His lips form a smile. "I love you too, y/n. So much."

We both lean in for a quick but passionate kiss, not wanting to go overboard in this moment.

"Can we go to bed?" I ask him.

"Of course, let me text Nick and Chris so they don't worry."

He sends a quick text to his brothers saying he's spending the night at my place, and then helps me up off the ground, carrying me to my bed. He slides his hoodie and shirt off before climbing under the covers with me. I lay my head on his chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breathing. He must have sensed my anxiety.

"Hey, it's all gonna be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen between you and I, I promise it's all for the better. Just go to sleep, and we can talk in the morning." He places a gentle kiss on my head.

God, it's like he can read my mind I thought to myself. I trusted his words, and for the first time in a long time, I finally felt safe.

[xanderisbraindead]

Im gonna try to switch to a flip phone

Ive wanted to do this, or at least unplug a little from my smart phone for a while, but I always cave and reinstall my apps and start using my phone again. My screen time was 10 hours a day average last week and that is absolutely embarrassing to me. To keep myself accountable, I'm gonna list my reasons why I wanna do this.

Mental health: High smartphone usage is being linked to higher rates of mental health especially among teens. Social media and the constant bombardment of information is very stimulating on the mind and thats turning out to not be very good for you.

Attention Span: My attention span is kinda dogshit... I catch myself opening my phone to scroll social media while my sims game is loading WHILE I'm watching youtube...

Dumb shit: I see a lot of dumb shit (mainly on twt and insta) and it makes me so angry but then I catch myself wanting more and more of that. I know I have anger issues and for myself, I shouldn't be purposefully doing that. Internet discourse takes up too much of my brain space to where I'll talk about it in real life...

General dependence: It's just a piece of metal, why does it feel like a limb I need to have on me at all times? I don't need to fall asleep and wake up with this thing in my hands.

Oversharing: I overshare a lot to the point I get embarassed about it. It's a little harder to do this when you're using your computer because you have to be intentional about your internet use. You have to sit down and some features are limited on web (ie insta stories) so you can't just say anything.

I want to appreciate other things: As I said, I spend an average of 10 hours a day on my phone and I feel like I'm wasting my time. I don't feel like im doing enough in my days because most of it is going into staring into a screen. I want to read more and remember to flip my compost and do more things in a day than sit hunched into a screen.

Physical health: I have bad eyesight and a bad back. Staring into a screen is not helping either of those.

Compulsive shopping: I have got some cool stuff, but again, I want to be more intentional in my actions, including shopping. I've found myself spending money a little too loosely lately, and I'd like to think my purchases through more.

There's probably more, but thats all I can think of right now. I'm gonna make a big shift tonight and sleep without my phone in my bed. That sounds silly to make a big deal of, but ive done it for maybe 4 years now, even when I was on vacation last month.

So yeah, thats my new adventure: Beating the addiction to my phone.

[rebelwrites]

One: Good Days And Bad

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till The Wheels Fall Off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

A/N: And here it is the first part of of probably one of my favourite series I’ve written ❤️

Warnings: strong themes of memory issues throughout

Staring across the bar, a heavy sigh escaped my lips as I tossed the damp rag into the stainless steel sink. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, no matter how hard I tried. In one of the booths sat the one person who meant the absolute world to me, the one person who never gave up on me when others had. The one person who was always in my corner fighting for me when I had lost all my strength. The one person who knew how to turn a shit day into something memorable. The one person I would do anything for, including giving my life if it came to that.

There were good days and bad, unfortunately today was one of the bad ones. We had to take each one as it came, but either way we made sure someone was always with him, that he was never left alone, especially on days like today.

Not that anyone could do anything about it– nothing would bring him back to the present. Once he slipped into his own world it was like his soul was being taken over. The vacant look on his face became permanent making him look older than he was. And unfortunately, there were only a handful of people who knew how to deal with these trances.

Between running the bar, the cafe, and tag teaming his care with Jax and Chibs, I didn’t have time to breathe let alone spend any time on myself. I always found myself checking the vacancy pages for any of the Formula One teams and every so often the position of social media manager or assistant came up. I knew Pops would have wanted me to apply but I could never bring myself to press the apply button.

No matter how bad the situation got I would always put my family first.

Finally I dropped my gaze to my phone, tapping the button on the side, causing the screen to light up. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips at the cheesy grin of my niece staring back at me. The sight of her wearing my Ferrari hoodie always made me chuckle, the damn thing buried her but she didn’t care, all she wanted was she had her Auntie’s hoodie on.

Shaking the memory away, I rolled my eyes realizing that once again the boys were late. I should have known they would be, time keeping wasn’t their strong point. Locking my phone, I slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans before pouring a fresh mug of coffee, making my way around the bar. Within a few short strides I found myself at his corner booth.

“Here you go, Pops,” I hummed, placing the mug on the table in front of him. “Chibs will be here soon okay.”

“When’s the race on?” he grunted, pointing at the tv that was positioned over the bar. “Isn’t it Monza this week?”

Reaching out I took his hand in mine, somedays all I wanted to do was cry when he was like this but, by now, I had become a pro at hiding my emotions around everyone, especially him.

“Pops, it’s summer break, remember?” I whispered. “There aren't any races until the end of August.”

“No, no, no, no,” he exclaimed, snatching his hand away from mine. His gaze was on me but it felt like he was staring right through me. “You have it all wrong.” His voice was clipped in anger, but I knew it came from a place of fear and frustration rather than real animosity. It was easier for him to believe that we were wrong than to accept what was happening.

Taking a deep breath, I mentally counted to ten in my head remembering that this wasn’t his fault, this was just a bad day. I knew it was better to just agree with him rather than try to argue, but it didn’t always stop me from trying to get him that nudge back into the present. I needed to think on my feet, pulling my phone out of my pocket pretending to check on the race schedule when I was actually on Instagram, liking one of Charles Leclerc’s recent posts.

“Okay Pops, I’ve just checked and the race is going to start soon.” I whispered, leaning forward pressing a kiss against his cheek. Pushing myself from the booth I swiped the remote from the bar. I didn’t need to ask which year of Monza he was talking about.

It was always 2019, at this point I could recite the commentary word for word from how many times this had happened. Luckily for me, it was a race I was happy to watch over and over again being a Ferrari and Charles Leclerc fan.

It didn’t take long to get everything set up, so I could make a start on the list of stuff that needed to be ordered. Although it was the end of July and peak time for our summer rush, due to the recent bad weather we had been having, the town was quiet. People didn’t want to venture out to a small town in the middle of nowhere when the storm hit, normally it was around the start of September which was perfect because the summer tourists had ventured back home but this year it was like the world was against us, as the storms graced us with their presence at the start of July meaning our regular summer visitors decided to stay away.

I had a love-hate relationship with storm season. There was something calming about watching the sky light up as the rain thrashed down. Many times I would grab a blanket and a fresh mug of coffee, setting up camp on the sofa located on our porch, with the canopy providing the much needed shelter from the heavy rain. But recently, I began to hate the change in weather, realizing they had become one of the triggers for Pops. We couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason for his mental decline, but we assumed it had something to do when he was in Vietnam.

Summer tourists always kept me running, but now with Pops, it was even more hectic. Jax tried his best, but once he became a single father, his priorities shifted, his mini-me becoming the center of his world. I know it weighed on him, not being able to help as much, but I refused to let him feel guilty for being a good father, so instead of complaining, I worked harder, slept less, and caffeinated more.

Glancing from the TV, I spotted Jax and Chibs strolling into the bar. The first thing I noticed was Jax wasn’t wearing his kutte, it was quite rare he didn’t have the leather hanging from his shoulders but he always made a point of keeping the days we spent together just about us, not about the club or the business. Chibs on the other hand never took it off, I swore he slept in the damn thing.

the moment I raised my brow at them their smirks fell from their faces, instantly being replaced by a guilty look. “What time do you call this, aye?” I hummed, folding my arms across my chest.

“Sorry lass, we got held up at the garage.” Chibs nodded, flashing me an apologetic smile, rushing across the room joining me from behind the bar. “How’s JT been this morning?” he asked, quickly changing the subject, not wanting to receive a bollocking.

“Vacant, but not as bad as last night.” I sighed, resting my head against Chibs’ shoulder, letting the smell of leather and tobacco wash over me. “He keeps thinking it’s race week so the next month is going to be tough.”

“We will just keep putting old races on,” Chibs hummed, pressing a kiss against the top of my head. We quickly found that putting races on was the best way to calm him down when he was getting worked up, something about watching the cars making laps around the track helped him gather his thoughts.

“Yeah, all the ones where Leclerc loses or DNFs.” Jax teased, causing me to flip him the bird. “Anyway, you good to go?”

“The bikes ready?”

“On the flat bed so get your ass moving, because lord knows you need a break more than any of us.” Jax smiled softly, I could see the guilt shining bright in his icy blue eyes. “You know how much we appreciate everything you do for this family.”

To the world, Jackson Teller was an arrogant asshole, the President of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle club here in Charming, who had no heart and showed no mercy. Although, there was some truth in what people saw, to me he was my older brother, best friend, and confidant all rolled into one. I knew he felt guilty about not being able to look after Pops as much but I never held that against him. I knew that his daughter, Elenor, was his top priority. She had the face of an angel but we all suspected she was the devil in disguise. There was no hiding who her father was - she was a Teller through and through.

His words caused a lump to form in the back of my throat, replacing the one I had finally swallowed down about Pops having a bad day. “Nope, ain't happening, not today,” I said sternly, jumping over the bar, pressing my palm against his chest. “We aren’t going down that path today, okay? You know I’d do anything for this family. You guys saved me so it’s only fair I return the favor,” I whispered the last part, feeling his large hand wrap around mine. “Now come on, there is a bike and a muddy track that is calling our names.”

Pushing myself away from him I made my way around the room, once I had reached Pops I leant down pressing a kiss against his cheek. For a moment he broke his gaze from the TV flashing me a soft smile before squeezing my hand.

“You let me know who wins okay?” I hummed, as he turned back to watching the race. Of course, I knew who won the race but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was how excited he would be to talk about it with me when I got back. “Love you Pops.”

Feeling Jax wrap his arm around my shoulders told me it was time to go. Flashing him a soft smile I let him guide me out of the bar and to the truck.

The moment I saw our dirt bikes secured on the flat bed I couldn’t help but smile. This was something we planned once a month, no matter what was going on in our life, we always made time for this.

Not only was it a way to make sure we spent time together outside of the bar, but it was also an escape from reality. There was something about tearing around the dirt track, getting covered head to toe in mud that really cleansed the soul.

Taking a deep breath I wrapped my fingers around the door handle, rolling my eyes when I realized Jax still hadn’t fixed the damn thing. I swore this truck was one strong wind of becoming a pile of metal in the corner of the yard at the garage.

It had been in the family for years, all the paint was peeling, the arches were rusted out, the roof leaked when it rained and there was always a plank of wood strapped to the bed of the truck ready to load the bikes.

“We own a garage and you haven’t sorted this yet!” I scolded with a playful smirk on my face as I yanked the door open. I knew why this truck hadn’t been restored, every dent and scratch held memories for both of us. My fondest memory was the dent the shape of Jax’s head from when we had one of our rare fights and I slammed him into the truck.

“I will get round to it,” he chuckled, running around the front of the truck. “Now get your ass in, we haven’t got all day.”

Rolling my eyes at my brother, I pulled myself into the truck, slamming the door behind me. Without asking I reached over and grabbed the crumpled pack of smokes from the dashboard.

“That's it, just steal my smokes,” Jax laughed, raising his brow as he slammed the truck into reverse.

“Want one?” I hummed, holding the cigarette between my teeth.

“What, of my own smokes? Of course, I want one, dipshit.” He huffed, snatching the pack from my lap.

A silence washed over the two of us as Jax sped through the streets of our hometown, filling our lungs with nicotine. Even with my rare time off, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander back to Pops. No matter what I was doing I always found myself worrying about him, even though I knew he was in good hands.

“Stop it,” Jax said softly.

“You know I hate when you do that,” I huffed, resting my head against the window. “But I can’t help it. I worry.”

“I know,” he sighed, running his fingers through his messy hair. “I worry as well but you know he’d hate it if we put our life on hold because of him.”

He was right, but it was exactly what I was doing. When we found out he was suffering with his memory, I abandoned my dreams to do what I could to help the man that I called my father, the man that raised me as his when both my parents decided that drugs were more important to them than their own flesh and blood. So, instead of pursuing my dream of working on the formula one circuit, I took over the bar and cafe without batting an eye.

Before I could manage a reply, I felt myself being tossed around in the seat. If it wasn’t for the seat belt I would have probably been through the window.

“Now we are talking.” I grinned, slapping my palms against my thighs as I focused on the muddy track that laid before us. “The only good thing about weeks of rain.”

Jax didn’t need telling twice as he practically threw himself out of the truck and, from the sounds of it, was already working on the ratchet straps that secured the bikes. Following suit I joined him as he jumped onto the bed of the truck.

We had plenty of practice getting the bikes down so it didn’t take us long before we were pulling on our protective gear. Once I was straddling the bike I instantly felt at home, the grin on my face was wide as I wrapped my fingers around the throttle.

“You know having the number 16 on your bike doesn’t make it any faster.” Jax teased, passing me my helmet. “You aren’t Charles Leclerc.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I scoffed, pulling the lid on my head, flipping the visor up before speaking again. “Just because my bike is better than yours.”

“Squirt, we have the same bike.”

“Yet I’m still faster than you,” I said smugly. “Now, are we riding or chit chatting?” I hummed, slamming my visor down leaving Jax in a spray of mud.

“I’m gonna kill you for that.” His pissed off tone echoed through my helmet through the ear pieces we had installed.

“You have to catch me first, asshole,” I giggled, opening up the throttle, racing up to the tree line.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @inesramoss30 @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[mazeinthemiroh]

you need a holiday. [part 1]

pairing: hongjoong x best friend! reader

genre: friends to lovers, slow burn / slow romance, slight angst, and, of course, a sprinkle of crack

word count: 1.6k

warnings: cursing, allusions to mental health issues + insomnia

summary: hongjoong feels like he is just going through the motions in his life. the spark has gone. but you have the perfect solution that will solve all his problems... [part 2, part 3]

author's notes: to get in the summer holiday spirit, i present to you part 1 of this hongjoong holiday series. we all deserve a rest every now and then, and time off is just what you need to get back on track. stay tuned for part 2 which will be published shortly! let me know if you want to be tagged in the next one <3

Hongjoong felt all his days blended into one. He was, quite truly, going through the motions. Sometimes he woke up not knowing what to do. Not feeling like he had a purpose. Which, of course, was not the case. He was a captain, a producer of fine music, a rapper, a dancer, a writer. His work was his life and people relied on him for things only he could accomplish. So he had a purpose. Of course, he did.

But things started to feel vacuous. They held no meaning. 'What was the point of it all?' He would think to himself as he stared at the keyboard in front of him, sitting by himself in the studio in the early hours of the morning yet again. Alone. Very much alone.

He needed something else. Something. Just a little kick up the ass, a slap in the face to give him the wake-up call he needed. He wanted someone to say 'You've got it good, you ungrateful bastard. Money, fame, charm. You've got it all, so stop whining about such trivial things and get back to work.' He needed to hear those words.

So he picked up the phone one night, another night in the studio, and his thumbs lingered over the screen before deciding to search for a name. Your name.

'Let's meet up for coffee tomorrow. If you're free, that is.'

He couldn't tell if his text sounded abrupt and rude due to his sleep-deprived mind waning slowly away. He knew you might not be up at the same time he was so he decide to wait until morning.

And a couple of hours later, he was fighting the urge to settle and sleep for the hours he deserved, instead getting ready for work. He shoved himself into the shower and 'cleaned the tiredness away', as he liked to put it. Because apparently, according to the wise Kim Hongjoong himself, a shower could cure you of most things, especially sleep deprivation.

So he went to work, going about his business, knowing that he would see you for a coffee break at around lunchtime. You had replied to him in the late hours of the morning, ignoring the fact that he had texted you at 3 am. It was typical Hongjoong behaviour and you knew him all too well to question the time in which he was up.

Lunchtime came around and there you were together, opposite each other as you tucked into the delicious sandwiches before you.

"So, how have you been?" Your voice was light, but you had your suspicions on your friend, who never usually made plans so out-of-the-blue, instead preferring a week in advance to prepare himself, ideally. That's why you were so surprised to have read his message.

"Me?" Hongjoong asked as if you were talking to anyone else in the café, which obviously you were not, "I've been good."

'This is not why you invited them out' Hongjoong's mind scolded him. 'There's a reason why you're here with them. Speak.'

Hongjoong let out a sigh, knowing that he was right. He needed to just... express himself.

"Well actually..." Hongjoong winced at the upcoming awkwardness, as if trying to brace himself for having to open up to you. He hated burdening people with his problems. A burden is truly what they felt like when expressed and left hanging in the air like that, all exposed and vulnerable. A person's problems could change your perception about someone, which Hongjoong never liked risking because his reputation was important.

But you were his friend. And if you ever confided in him about something, he would embrace your openness with a kind heart. Why did he think you wouldn't do the same?

So, taking a deep breath, he tried his best.

"I've been struggling, to be honest."

Already he could feel a lump form in his throat. That felt like a massive confession in itself, when it really, in hindsight, was just a simple statement. Everyone struggles, sure. But saying it out loud and solidifying these feelings verbally felt intense.

You nodded, already understanding where he was coming from. He looked tired. Not only because of the dark circles under his eyes and the occasional yawn that rose in between sentences. But also, in his eyes, the casual and chipper sparkle that he always held had dwindled tremendously. He was still as handsome as always, but his spark had gone. And that very concept exhausted him more than any lack of sleep could.

"You need a holiday," you decided aloud. It felt like more of a command than a suggestion. But after you had heard all of Hongjoong's worries and concerns and rants about anything and everything, you confirm that it was the only right thing to say.

He looked at you in bewilderment. In utter fascination.

"No, that's not what you should be saying," Hongjoong shook his head, "you should be telling me to get a grip and stop moping about."

You laughed at his reasoning, but he looked dead serious, biting the inside of his cheek impatiently.

"What good will that do?" You hummed, not waiting for an answer, "You're allowed to feel this way, Joong. And you're allowed a holiday too."

"Okay, if I went on holiday every time I had a problem, I wouldn't be at work at all. I'm not like you, I can't just run when things get tough," he snapped, one hand turning into a fist, before unclenching. He realised he sounded very harsh there and his eyes grew wide.

"I..." he swallowed harshly. "I'm sorry. That was over the line."

"No, no," you shook your head, trying hard not to take offence at his harsh words. You knew he was stressed. "You're right. I don't have the same circumstances as you. But I don't run away when things get tough. I just allow myself to get away, just for a little bit, every now and then. A slice of fantasy before going back to reality. Everyone needs a holiday. Everyone needs to get away from the mundane routine of their lives. So when you do have some time off, why not embrace it?"

Hongjoong stared at his now empty plate, still feeling guilty about being hurtful with his words. What had gotten into him? He sighed and sank back in the chair.

You watched him for a moment, before continuing:

"You want me to be serious and honest with you? Fine. You will destroy yourself if you don't give yourself a break. A little rest, Hongjoong, you owe yourself at least that. And if your life is not full of joy like it used to be in, despite having your dream job and dream life, a little break will do you good. Otherwise, you will drive yourself crazy," you shrugged, a frown on your face to match his, "which you're in the process of doing now."

Hongjoong looked up. It wasn't the sternness he was expecting, but it did make sense. He licked his dry lips and fixed his hunched posture.

When he didn't say anything you said your last bit.

"I am going away to Spain for 5 days in about a fortnight," you placed the cutlery delicately on the plate, "just 5 days, that's all. You're more than welcome to join me, if you feel it's worth your while. Because, trust me, it will be."

On getting up, you had slipped your jacket on elegantly as he watched you, eyes glazed over with deep thought. You pushed him out of his daze by placing a kiss on his cheek, something you wouldn't usually do. He blinked and looked over at you curiously.

"See you, Joong. Thanks for lunch. And I hope to see you soon."

"Y/N thinks I need a holiday."

Hongjoong didn't know why he was confiding in yet another person today. But here he was, talking to Seonghwa about the conversation you had with him earlier that day.

They were both standing in the kitchen, Hongjoong unmoving whilst Seonghwa worked around him, making himself a late dinner.

"Of course you need a holiday," Seonghwa said without looking at Hongjoong as he reached for the top shelf, moving around his standing friend who gazed at him, baffled.

"You think I need a holiday too?" Hongjoong was perplexed, clearly not seeing what everyone else was.

"We all need a holiday," Seonghwa looked at him now with a playful smile, before sinking into seriousness, "but you need it just a little bit more than the rest of us."

Hongjoong pursed his lips and sighed, shaking his head.

"You work so hard for all of us. 5 days is nothing, Joong. We can cope without you for 5 days!" Seonghwa tried to convince his friend.

"Oh is Hongjoong leaving? That means I get to be captain, right?" Wooyoung butted in, reaching over Seonghwa in an awkward position just to ram his mouth full of the already opened popcorn left on the counter.

"You wish. I'll be in charge when Hongjoong is gone, obviously," Seonghwa rolled his eyes and gently shooed Wooyoung away, who shrugged and disappeared without another word.

"Good to know I'll be missed," Hongjoong snorted as his gaze followed the disappearing Wooyoung.

"You won't be missed," Seonghwa stated, "because we would all have peace of mind knowing that you were finally relaxing for once. Or, at least, I will."

Seonghwa always knew what to say, and Hongjoong couldn't help but feel a little better about entertaining the idea of going on holiday with you.

But that doesn't mean he had been fully convinced.

"I'll think about it," Hongjoong nodded, before making his way back to his room.

He wasn't convinced. Not yet.

taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @toolovelyforyou, @honeysugarbby, @dutchessskarma, @saltedplum-squid (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

[flame-resistant]

Research suggests that the inability to fall asleep without background noise could be related to a fear of being alone, which is often connected to abandonment issues. This fear can stem from past traumas or deeply ingrained insecurities.

Another night in at your shift, the hospital was usually quiet (one of the benefits of night shifts). Sitting your things down, you could already see the red light on room 1003 blinking erratically as usual. Knowing the nurse before you hadn’t checked on the patient, a deep sigh left you. Though the thought crossed your mind on who would, he was a villain, one that destroyed half of Japan. However, at this moment he was a patient who desperately needed attention.

Knocking on the door softly, you could see the white-haired man stop pressing the nurse button on his bed. The room was quiet, and TV hours were limited to help other patients sleep, though this was a struggle with the Todoroki. It was as if he needed something to drown out the silence. Most of the nurses ignored his constant need, muttering things behind his back, that he deserved to suffer in silence. 

“Everything okay, Mr. Todoro-”

“Touya.”

Well, it was better than when he first awoke in the ward. Sedatives were used on the regular to calm him down, glares sent the nurses way when they called him anything but Dabi. A nod was sent his way as you came over to check his vitals, well he seemed fine physically (the best you could in his state). Deciding it was something bothering him in his mental state, you looked down at the man as he picked at a bandage. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Blue eyes looked at the wall, a pout on his reconstructed lips as the male continued his silent tantrum. Sometimes it made you laugh to think he terrorized your country for a year. Still not getting an answer, you concluded that was the issue, knowing perfectly well he had a voice to correct you. 

“I can get some hot tea if you would like?”

Again silence was the response, though he was getting more fidgety by the second. Your brows furrowed at how he expected you to read his mind. As if you knew him well enough to know what he wanted, oh how wrong he was. Trying one more time, you pressed on. “The ward is quiet tonight, what if I stay just for a bit to help you sleep? We can talk?”

That seemed to perk his interest, at least enough to get him to face you. His pride did not let him admit he wanted attention, that the silence was a reminder of how alone he felt. Taking a seat on the window bed, you looked out the window to see the parking lot. Some people coming and going from the ER downstairs. 

“Are you going to talk or not?”

Breaking from your trance, you expected him to start the conversation, but once more he was reliant on your actions. As if he was doing you some favor by talking. Funny.

“Right...well, how do you feel?”

An irritated look was sent your way, silently telling you that was a stupid question. Okay, time for a new plan. Taking out your phone, you let the man see a picture on the screen. “This is my cat, he has some anxiety so he likes attention.”

Raising his brow, Touya eyed the picture, taking in what you presented. “What’s his name?”

You felt a bit proud of that, taking it as a nurse-patient bonding moment. Showing him another picture of your feline friend, you continued on. Going over the cat’s name and personality, more scrolling of pictures, his eyes never leaving your screen. 

“What does he do when you have to leave? Sounds like a shitty life.”

While he wasn’t wrong, always needing attention did seem pretty tiring. You kept your mouth shut on saying the cat reminded you of him. With your phone now away, you went over the usual plan for your cat. 

“Consistency helps, but I usually leave some sound on in the house so he doesn’t feel alone.”

“Must be nice, having such a pampered life.”

He almost sounded jealous of the cat, but that sounded silly. “Have you ever had a pet?”

Ignoring your question, Touya changed the subject. Probably not wanting to talk about himself or his past. “Can we just talk about stupid stuff?”

“Oh, sure.” The awkwardness didn’t leave, but you did as he asked. Going over your plans for the night and what you packed for lunch. He stopped talking, only listening to you go on. His eyes were closing by the second. Thinking he was finally asleep you stopped, though the man grunted for you to continue. Unsure what else to say, you looked back out the window and described the area. Hoping it would be enough to relax the man completely. “Some nurses are leaving, looks like they are talking. Maybe about their shifts? Looks like a woman is coming into the ER, she forgot to turn her car lights off...”

A good thirty minutes passed before you could hear his snores. A sigh of relief left you as you stood, happy he was getting the sleep he needed as well as the attention he was seeking. 

On your way out, you made a mental note to talk to the head nurse about adding an extension of TV time for certain clients. At least for now, he was asleep, the rest of the night ran smoothly, so when he woke up again you didn’t mind one more nightly talk. Maybe you’ll get to know the man behind the villain, the one called Touya.

[aerodynamic-acephalic]

ok I just need to get my thoughts down because I don't see anyone else talking about this. spoilers for the new episode of Helluva Boss.

In the new episode, "The Full Moon", in relation to the Stolitz dynamic, there is a huge correlation between melody and emotions.

The duet at the start has Stolas singing the entire time, while Blitz is rapping the whole thing. Not that rap isn't music, nor that he isn't singing with deliberate pitch, but his parts of the song feel closer to spoken prose then Stolas'. In the words themselves, Stolas spend the entire time commenting on his own worries about Blitz and their meeting, while Blitz spends the song avoid his own anxieties about his relationship with Stolas, and in fact out right says he's "getting in [his] own head" when he begins to acknowledge his relationship with Stolas as "complex" before swerving out of that topic entirely.

And this is also true for their meeting at the end of the episode. The music that plays at the start is reflective of Stolas' inner emotional state while Blitz talks about what he bought. Then when Stolas brings up the Asmodian Crystal, the music turns more hopeful. And again, when Stolas states that Blitz is no longer under any obligation to do anything to/with him, the music changes to play a singular long note. This whole time, the music has changed to reflect Stolas' mental state throughout this conversation.

Then it's Blitz's turn to react and it goes dead silent. And even though Blitz could very much go "k thanks bye" and ditch Stolas, his reaction is "Am I not working hard enough? I can do better". Blitz, unlike Stolas, is not addressing the underlying emotions of his care for the other, defaulting to trying to bring back their status quo rather than (work to) resolve the issues in their relationship to make them both happier.

The music come back when Stolas answers with how much he truly cares about Blitz and he doesn't want a relationship built on a power imbalance the way theirs currently is.

Blitz, once again, swerves from the conversation as the music, once again cuts out, defaulting to assuming that he's not being serious.

This, obviously, hurts Stolas, with the music following in tow, where it cuts out (with the exception of a sustained chord this time) at Blitz realising that Stolas was being serious about genuinely caring about him and ever so slightly touching on how that makes him feel.

Music revives briefly for Stolas to verbalise how Blitz's dismissal and inability to believe his care for him when it cuts out at Blitz screaming at him. Here again it's Blitz not directly addressing why or what hurt him, but rather him angry that Stolas is dismissing his attempts at trying to understand and deal with the situation (rightfully so), though doing so through screaming and generalising ("you royal fucks think you can do this every time") as a way to bring back a semblance of control.

The music rolls in with Stolas being upset and crying and fades out when Blitz is teleported away.

This entire episode where these two are on screen (so, like the first 3min and the last 5min) has the music emphasising not only what the characters feel, but also how in-tune with and aware they are of how and why they feel the way they do, with Stolas able to do so much more than Blitz.

I saved the best for last, as there are exactly two exceptions to the "Blitz has no music but Stolas does" observation.

The first (and the less interesting and implicative of the two) is right after Blitz dismisses Stolas' feelings. Here, though Stolas does talk, he is very much building walls and pushing Blitz away through both his generally dismissive tone and him actively trying to walk away from them conversation. Also a thing to note is how when Stolas thanks Blitz for making him as happy as he did, the music is there, but everything but the sustained chord leaves when Stolas blurts out "I wish you the best with your business" while walking away, and completely ignoring anything Blitz has to say at all about how he feels. It only comes back when he talks about his own hurt.

The second is after Blitz is teleported away. The "feelings" character is off-screen. We shouldn't be hearing any music at all. And we don't, initially. But as Blitz screams to the sky two note play. And these two notes are the only notes that start playing while Blitz speaks in these 5 minutes, and they are the only notes (I'm pretty sure) in this scene that play where we don't immediately see/hear what could be causing the emotions that the music implies. It is here where everything Blitz has been doing to maintain the status quo breaks down. It is here that Blitz has nothing to think of to not think about him and Stolas. It is here where Blitz grapples with his own feelings about Stolas and his relationship with him.

can you see why I've been going insane for the past few hours...?

[quinnyundertow]

Can I ask what got you into writing? I love your writing style and I'm so curious about your process as well.

This is such a sweet ask. I love it. This may be way more than what you were expecting haha. But I’m alone in the hospital and this feels cathartic.

I’ve always loved to write since I can remember. When I was in elementary school I remember getting yelled at and crying because I had to write a story about a thanksgiving turkeys adventure and mine was like twenty pages. They said it was too long and hurry up and I was frustrated because I wasn’t done!

I think what really solidified my love for writing is I needed fantasy to escape. In middle and early high school my parents divorced and I was bullied relentlessly. Gum put in my hair, things thrown at me, called fat at every opportunity. I had teachers that bullied me too for being fat. I was SA’d multiple times, depressed and started cutting. I’ve honestly tried to block most of it out.

The point is I had found anime and a few friends who loved it too. So any opportunity I had I begged friends to do writing journals with me. We’d make up a crack fic plots then write self insert and pass a notebook back and forth between classes every chapter for the next person to write. We wrote for Yugioh, Naruto, Dragonball Z, Fruits Basket popular ones at the time. I also wrote poetry, fanfics and original stories to try and escape anyway I could. Writing was the highlight of my teenage years. But other than that it was hell and you could never pay me enough money to repeat them.

I dropped out of Highschool from the bullying and my depression. But I studied and took a test for Highschool equivalency and then went to college and got straight As. College is nothing like Highschool. No one cares what you do. At least in my experience. I wanted to be a writer or manga artist but my father told me I wasn’t good enough and I wish I wouldn’t have taken it to heart and listened. I stopped writing for like ten years except for periodic ideas in notebooks until this last November.

Jujutsu Kaisen had become my comfort anime and then chapter 236 happened. I was so depressed I decided to try and read fanfics again. I’ve always read a lot of published books and was staggered to see a ton of fanfic writers were just as good if not better than published writers. After reading a ton of amazing works I decided I needed a fix it story that was ultimately happy for JJK and here we are.

Sorry if this was boring or too much. But if you take away something from this take this. Life is always changing. Tomorrow will not be the same as today. That much is guaranteed. If you have nothing left to live for then you have nothing to lose by trying something crazy or new. I was broken down to nothing by bullies, family issues, mental and physical health and I was incredibly suicidal. Somehow I found the will to try again. I got on depression and anxiety medication (still on to this day), worked for a higher education and took a shitty paying job to claw my way back up. My life is far from perfect but despite everything I worked hard to now have a boss babe high paying career and after restarting writing and meeting you all I’ve never been happier.

As far as a writing process I pretend I’m not going to post what I write and write it just for me. I ask myself what do I think would be the coolest thing to happen? What would I want to see next? Then I write it. Most of the time it sucks, or I don’t feel like writing it but I force it out. I make myself sit for 15 minutes and just write something. Then I rewrite it. Keep what parts I liked toss what feels off. Repeat. Eventually I’m having fun and loving the process.

When rewriting I’ll name them things like WICYG Chapter 12.2 for the second rewrite etc. I’ll screen shot my google doc so you can see the insanity haha. Sometimes I’ll rewrite four plus times. At the end of the day I want to love what I write and do it for me. Then when I find people that like it too it makes me over the moon happy. I hope one day to have the confidence to write my original stories in my head out. Writing fics for yall has definitely helped build my confidence as a writer.Thanks again for the ask anon sorry for the life story but I’ve never told people all that and it was healing to get out.

My messy google docs 🥹 Madhouse is Sanity Last Stop lol.

[melodygatesauthor]

Chapter 4: It's A Date

prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader

Edited by: @welcometostayingawake (she's the real MVP)

Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist

Chapter Summary:

Marc and Steven have a heated discussion about his feelings. You have to deal with some rejection.

Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):

college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu, talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded.

Word Count: 3.5k

Your weekend went about as normal as any. You’d had some homework for your first week, and a couple of assignments that you put off until the last minute before completing. Layla had invited you out for drinks at a local bar where you ran into Cameron from your creative writing class. If only you weren’t so infatuated by a certain history professor, you might’ve given in to the obvious flirting Cameron was laying on you. Unfortunately for him, you just couldn’t stop thinking about how Monday couldn’t come fast enough.

Steven, on the other hand, felt like the weekend flew by all too quickly. He knew that he had lost control of the body for sure this time, at least once. After he walked with you on Wednesday night, he went home in a huff, frustrations at an all time high. If Gus had rational thinking skills, surely he would’ve thought Steven was insane, screaming at his reflection in the mirror.

“Alright, Marc, you wanted to talk to me, yeah? Come on then, let’s talk. I hear you trying to poke your head in while I’m tryin’ to teach.”

Silence.

“Marc, what are you afraid of? Huh? You have no problem interrupting my tutoring sessions. You promised!”

“You call that a tutoring session?” There he was…finally. “Don’t forget that we share a head, Steven, you were undressing your student with your eyes. She’s gotta be what, nineteen? Twenty? The hell is wrong with you?”

Now Steven was the quiet one, feeling the shame wash over him. Was he upset that Marc had called him out on something he was trying to keep hidden, or was he upset that Marc was getting involved when he was supposed to be taking a permanent backseat? Oh dear, was it both?

He blacked out, and when Steven woke up again, it was already Sunday. He had no recollection of the prior days, but Marc was more than happy to clue him in to the events that took place.

“Steven, I’m fine with you having the body, Jake and I both are, but we need you to understand something…”

Steven was sitting on the couch in front of his television, staring at his reflection. His brow was furrowed, hair falling into his eyes. He was pissed and trying to keep it contained. This was against everything Marc and Jake had promised him.

“You told me that I could have the body now. You said you would set me up with this little job in this little town, let me be happy as a professor and now you’re ruining it.” Steven felt his bottom lip start to quiver.

“I had to, Steven, because you are ruining everything we gave you. Jake and I gave you a nice, quiet life to live, and you’re getting a little too close to ruining it.” Marc was pacing back and forth on the television screen, running his hands over his face in frustration.

Steven ran his hands through his hair. He felt some stray tears making their way down his cheeks. His emotions were so conflicted. On the one hand, there was you. From the moment he met you, you’d taken his breath away. The way you smiled, and the way your eyes lit up whenever you were around him, he couldn’t shake it. On the other hand, Marc was right. Steven was going to ruin both of your futures if he didn’t hit the brakes.

“I’m sorry, Steven. There’s a few billion women in the world, pick a different one.”

“I don’t want a different one.” Steven said, sniffling and wiping his face.

“Listen, there’s this nice little librarian, her name is Jane. I have been…talking to her on your behalf.” Steven looked back at the screen with a confused gaze.

“You flirted with someone for me? Isn’t she going to find it strange when I show up with an accent?”

“I fudged it a little.” Marc shook his head, “that’s not the point. The point is that…I think you should talk to her on Monday, maybe see if you can get her to go on a date with you. It might help you move past …whatever this is.” Marc let out a heavy sigh, “If you get caught, or get in trouble with this girl, they might come looking for us. I can’t let that happen.”

Marc had a point, and Steven knew that, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about you for the rest of the painfully long day. He just wished that he hadn’t met you, that would’ve made things easier. He imagined how simple it would’ve been if fate hadn’t placed the two of you in the coffee shop that morning. What if he’d remembered his wallet? If he’d had his wallet then you never would’ve talked to him. What if he’d decided to make coffee at home instead? Then you would’ve just come to his class like normal, never having had that first spark.

Steven resolved to keep Marc out of the body. He’d been strong enough to do it before, but he’d let his guard down on Wednesday. It wouldn’t be happening again, but he also decided that Marc wasn’t totally off base in suggesting he ask out the librarian. He knew that by pursuing anything with you, he was not only putting himself at risk, but you as well. He didn’t want to ruin your life before you even had a chance to live it, so he decided that on Monday, he would see about that date with the librarian.

He felt much more confident on Monday morning. He hadn’t seen you since Wednesday the week before, so he was hopeful that his feelings had subsided with the time away, at least a little bit. Steven put a little more thought into his outfit, something nice, knowing that he would be asking Jane out later that day. He even went so far as to spritz a little cologne on his neck. When he looked in the mirror, he wondered for a second if you might like his outfit, but he quickly shook away the thought before heading to class.

Class was about to start, and you were sitting at your desk with your laptop open and eagerly waiting for Steven to come in. You hadn’t seen him since Wednesday, and you couldn’t deny that you were excited for him to walk through the door. The moment he stepped in, you felt your heart race and cheeks flush.

He looked up at you once he got to his desk, and all the color faded from his face. He looked nicer than usual, hair not as unruly as last week. He was wearing a crisp, black button down, not one of the usual intricately patterned shirts he adorned. You were surprised, and felt excited knowing he’d probably dressed like that for you. At least, you wanted to think he did.

When he kept his eyes off of you for the remainder of class though, you started to feel anxious. Did you say something Wednesday evening without realizing? Had you looked at him in a way that he felt was offensive? Maybe there was something wrong with your face? To say you weren’t even just a little upset would be a lie. You felt the familiar pit in your stomach that came with rejection and it hurt.

Class ended right on time, and you got up, preparing to leave without saying a word. You stopped as you got to the doors though. You were willing your feet to move forward, but your heart was keeping you in place. There was something between you and Steven, you were almost certain, and now he was acting…off. He was acting like you were nothing. You should’ve been satisfied with that, accepting that nothing was going to happen, as it should be. It was a perfect opportunity for you both to avoid breaking school rules, but you turned around anyway. He was already looking at you from the desk, eyes hurt.

“Um…” You said, unable to think of the words to say.

“I’ll see you for tutoring on Wednesday night, right here, yeah?” He gulped harshly.

“Steven.” Marc said. “I can hear what you’re thinking, just remember what you’re risking if-”

“Yeah.” You said, not realizing that you were cutting off the man in Steven’s head.

“Alright then.” He nodded, “see ya.” He looked down at his papers.

He was telling you to leave, quite plainly. You took the hint with a heavy stomach, walking out to the hall before deciding at the last second to go to the library. Steven had assigned a paper due Monday the following week and you wanted to get a head start on it.

As you walked into the library, you went to the left of the reception area and saw the printer room. You felt haunted by the memory of that room, wishing you could do it over again and this time be a little more bold. Maybe he didn’t realize that you felt that way about him. Maybe he didn’t know you were as interested in him as you were.

You were hidden behind various shelves of non-fiction, scouring for a book to write your paper on, when you heard him in the entryway.

“Yeah, hi.” You heard him speaking from the entrance.

You didn’t know anyone else with that accent, it surely was him. You peeked from behind the books on the shelf, looking out and seeing him talking to the brown haired librarian. He was smiling, a little too widely for your liking. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Hi, Steven, right?” She said, smiling just as widely back at him.

“Yeah, s’right.” He cleared his throat. “I was, erm, I was wonderin’ if you would be free this weekend? Maybe to grab a drink or somethin’?”

You’d never felt such a punch to the gut as you felt in that moment. You even held your stomach as though you’d actually felt the physical attack, fingers clutching your shirt. Breathing was harder when panic struck, and you wanted to leave so you didn’t have to listen anymore, but you stayed, hoping that maybe she would either reject him or he would change his mind.

“Oh, you know what I would love to, but I’m going to be going upstate to see my parents for the weekend. But…I actually have Wednesday night available.” She was swaying while she spoke, clearly interested in the timid professor.

Steven hesitated, thoughts turning back to you once again. Your smile, the way you touched his hand, the way you made him feel, everything about you. He could hear Marc stirring, probably upset that his alter was hesitating, but he couldn’t help it. Wednesday night would interfere with your tutoring, but he had to do this. He had to get away from you.

“Yeah, Wednesday night should work fine.” She was all smiles as they wrapped up their conversation and parted ways.

His eyes wandered around the library and eventually looked in your direction, but you couldn’t be certain if he saw you or not. Part of you hoped he did so he could feel a little guilty for flopping on you that way. The other part of you didn’t want him to know how nosy you were being, watching him ask a woman on a date, one he had every right to ask on a date, one that he should ask on a date.

You skipped your next class, emailing your professor that you were sick. The thought of trying to get through a class without crying was too much. You were mad at yourself for feeling that way, and for feeding into a fantasy that you knew deep down would lead nowhere. When Layla came into the room that night, you pretended to be asleep. You couldn’t sleep though, you hardly slept all night.

Steven didn’t get much sleep either. He was plagued by thoughts of you, and how upset you might be when he had to tell you that he was canceling. He couldn’t stop playing the image of your face in his mind in class earlier that day. You’d known something wasn’t right, that much was clear. He wanted to tell you right then how he felt. He wanted to pull you back into his classroom and say he was sorry and that he knew it was stupid but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. 

But he couldn’t. It wasn’t right. 

Instead, Steven sat on the edge of his bed in his underwear and a tee shirt staring at nothing in particular. He felt empty. His head was quiet again, for that he was grateful, but emotionally he was spent. He had spent several days the week before thinking about you, unable to shake you from his mind, only to have the other two, mostly Marc, come busting back in to take over. He was supposed to be letting Steven live his life in peace.

Tuesday was numb, and you hardly ate. Layla noticed, and when she asked you what was wrong, you just brushed her off and tried to focus on your classes. You’d only known Steven for just over a week. There was no reason for you to be acting so heartbroken over someone that you shouldn’t be looking at that way anyhow.

Wednesday was harder for you to get out of bed. Wednesday morning you knew that you had to go to his class and sit through his lecture while he avoided eye contact. He was going to be looking over the papers you’d started to see if anyone needed help and let you work on it for the duration of class. In truth, emotional turmoil or not, you needed help with the paper. All the more reason to be upset that he was ditching you on tutoring night.

He made his way to each student, and it didn’t surprise you that he walked to you last. He had been eyeing you here and there, clearly not wanting you to catch him spying while he helped other students, but you noticed. How could you not? He nearly tripped over one of the desks trying to avoid you, but you decided to be more bold than usual.

“Excuse me, Steven?”

Steven’s heart stopped as he faced away from you. He didn’t want to turn around. He wished you would’ve just let him go sit down at his desk and not speak to him, but of course you couldn’t do that. Of course you couldn’t just let him go. He walked up to you slowly and stood there next to your desk. His hands were clenched into balls at his sides.

“You don’t have to-” you started.

“What do you need help with?” He asked, almost coldly, but you sensed the tremble in his tone and it made the uncomfortable pit in your stomach return.

“You said that King Henry VIII had how many wives?” You asked in a whisper.

“He had six.” Steven said sternly.

“Oh, okay,” You said, typing that into your notes.

“Erm, I meant to talk to you. I’m not gonna make it to our tutoring sess-“

“I know.” You looked at him with your brow slightly furrowed, he gulped harshly. “You have better things to do.” You felt your eyes welling, “I’m just going to go work on this paper instead of tutoring.”

He paused for a while. He didn’t realize you’d heard him and the librarian setting up their little rendezvous. Steven was just going to make up something, tell you that he was busy helping another faculty member or volunteering at the homeless shelter. He was going to tell you anything other than the truth, that he was desperately trying to forget about these new and developing feelings he had.

“Maybe you should find something better to do, too.” He said softly, pressing his lips in a hard line.

You sucked in a deep breath and nodded, unable to speak without losing your composure. Steven gathered that you were done with the conversation and walked away from you and sat down at his desk. He heard you sniffling, and he felt terrible as the class went on. He wished he could apologize, maybe tell the librarian he wasn’t interested after all.

“You did good, Steven. I know that wasn’t easy,” Marc said.

Steven, understandably, didn’t respond, but even if he could respond without making the whole class think he was mad, he wouldn’t. You were eager to leave the second the clock struck 10:20. You were so eager, in fact, that you were the first person out the door.

While you were still too upset to eat much of anything, Steven was in his apartment looking at himself in the mirror. He sighed tiredly at his appearance. He didn’t care if the librarian found him attractive, he didn’t care if she liked him at all.

“You need to care, remember the danger you’re putting everyone in if you don’t move on, Steven.” Marc said.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I bloody remember.”

“You’re really going to wear that, amigo?” Jake was there, too, it seemed. Steven had been wondering when the other alter would show up.

“Jake. No one asked for your opinion.” Steven adjusted his tie, “,‘sides, I think I look fine.”

“Thought you wanted to impress her,” Jake was chuckling, “wear the red tie.”

“Enough!” Steven shouted, stomping to the front door, grabbing his keys and coat before exiting.

Steven took an Uber and then waited outside the restaurant where he was set to meet with Jane. He could see her through the window. She looked beautiful, wearing a red dress and hair done up in curls. It was obvious that she’d tried harder than he had on her appearance.

“Steven, what are you waiting for? Go inside.” Marc said after Steven had stood there for a little too long.

He sucked in a deep breath. Jane was sitting there, waiting for him, but he could only think of you. You must be holed up in the library working on your paper for his class. He was supposed to be with you that night, not her. He was supposed to be with you. 

The chattering in his head was incessant the moment he turned away and started moving for the college building. His heart was racing, he knew it was stupid, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t shake this feeling.

He had shut them out in the past, he was strong enough to do so, so he did it now. He couldn’t ever get rid of them completely, but he could keep them quiet for short periods of time. He could keep them from taking over and keep them from bothering him further. Steven felt like he could handle it, he’d never felt so in control. He could keep a secret, he knew you could, too.

You were in the library, like you said you’d be, sitting in a corner by yourself. You didn’t want to be seen in case you started to cry. You managed to keep the tears at bay all day, by some miracle. There was a shuffling noise coming your way, taking you by surprise considering the late evening. When you looked up, Steven was there; breathless and covered in a layer of perspiration.

He’d left. He didn’t go through with the date. You stood up clumsily, feeling your heart rate rise. This confirmed all of your suspicions. He was as infatuated with you as you were with him. He stepped closer and said your name.

“Steven…” you stepped closer, too, cautiously. He closed in further, there was hardly any space between you two now. “You didn’t go on your date? I…I thought…”

“I couldn’t, I just…”

He leaned down quickly before the moment got away from him and slotted his delicious lips against yours. When people talked about someone taking your breath away, this is what they meant. He grabbed your shoulder in one hand and wrapped the other around the small of your back to pull you in closer.

The kiss wasn’t over and you let yourself fall into it more, melting your mouth into his, filling the empty spaces with your tongue. He tasted better than you could’ve imagined. You stuck your fingers into his dark locks, angling his head against yours. He let out a groan before pulling back abruptly.

“We can’t…s’wrong.” His lips were swollen and still glossy with your combined spit.

“I can keep a secret, but I can’t keep avoiding you, this feeling…” you stepped forward, desperate for more.

He put up a hand, “Not here. Not now, it’s too risky, love.”

You nodded, knowing he was right, “Yeah, sure okay.”

“Okay.” 

He didn’t say another word, just nodded and then walked away, right out of the library.

You were left standing there, pressing your fingertips to your lips with the dumbest grin on your face. It was confirmed: your Professor, Dr. Grant, had feelings for you, and regardless of the risk involved, you were already addicted. 

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