#I used to hate this time of year for the heat

[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?

[pedroscurls]

Fall is here!! Time to get cozy 🍁🍂 what would it be like for Hugh and younger gf (30s-55) as they get ready for fall season? Like probably them starting to live under the same roof all cute and cozy

seasons changing (one-shot)

summary: hugh and reader get ready for fall in new york. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warnings: fluff, implied age gap (reader is in their 30s, hugh is 56), hugh is very touchy 😉, reader has some description (outfit and hair), no use of y/n. word count: 698 a/n: i know this is so long overdue and i'm sorry for not getting to this until now! i hope you enjoy it!!! i had a blast writing this (makes me wish i spent my time getting ready for fall with hugh). this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

Fall has always been your favorite season. The crisp, cool air. The leaves changing color. When the seasons change from summer to fall, it always brings a sense of excitement that the holidays are fast approaching. 

And this year is different. Has been different. It’ll be the first time you’re spending it with Hugh in New York since he’s asked you to move in. Part of you still can’t believe this is real, but he tells you just how much he loves it when you decorate the place and how much you make it feel so much more cozy, so much more homey. 

Hugh hates being away from you, but his schedule has been so busy even after Deadpool & Wolverine. He knows that you don’t mind, knows that you understand, but he can’t help but feel guilty for being away from you so frequently. 

So when he finally does get a chance to come home, Hugh’s surprised at the sight of his home that he now shares with you. The moment he steps inside, there’s a sudden sense of warmth that he feels in the pit of his stomach. You’re sitting at the dining table, legs crossed on the chair as you look out the window. He smiles to himself, the entire city scape blanketed by cloudy skies. The trees he can see from afar with leaves the color of orange and it just feels like fall. He can even smell the candle that you lit up, wafting through his entire home. 

Music is quietly playing as you continue to write in your notebook, a cup of coffee nearby. He loves seeing you so comfortable in his home; it surprised him in the beginning how easily you fit into his life, how he now can’t even think of his home without you there. 

It’s like you’ve always belonged there. With him.

“Hey, baby,” he calls out, setting his duffle bag on the couch as he walks in your direction.

When your eyes meet his, there’s a surprise grin on your face. Without hesitation, he watches you get up from your chair and run over to you, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re back early.” 

“Wanted to surprise you,” Hugh smiles, his own arms snaking around your frame. 

“Consider me surprised,” you bury your face against his chest, letting out a contented sigh. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, baby. It feels very cozy in here. I see that you’ve decorated…” Hugh smiles, pulling away to look around the living room and shared kitchen space. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t wait.” 

Hugh walks over to his speaker and raises the volume, the song playing loudly throughout his home. He looks at you and smiles, gently reaching out for your hand. 

“I love it,” he whispers, pulling you into his arms as his hands move along your sides. “I love when you decorate.” 

“Really?” You ask, biting your lower lip as your hands move to rest on his shoulders, gently squeezing. You can hear him let out a contented groan as you slowly continue to massage the tight knots away. 

“Yeah,” Hugh answers, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “You’re making this your home too and I love it. Love you.” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you stare up at him, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s not too much?” 

“Never too much.” He leans down and moves his lips along the side of your neck, hands grazing your backside and squeezing gently. “Smells like fall in here.” 

You gasp quietly, eyes falling shut. “Well, that was the goal.” You let out a whimper when you feel his teeth graze a hot spot on your neck and you reach around to grip the shirt he’s wearing. “There’s still more to decorate…”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, baby.” He smiles, bending his legs only slightly to lift you into his arms, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist. “But let’s hold off on the decoration because I really did miss you, baby.” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“How about I show you instead?” Hugh grins, leading you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

[oumaheroes]

Talk dover to me <3

'How hot is it?'

'It's hot.'

'Is it hot enough for me.'

'Francis, get the fuck in.' Arthur sat up and back further in the tub to make room, 'Stop looking at me like that; get in and shut the bloody door. You're letting all the heat out.'

'Oh, I thought it was hot enough.'

Arthur raised his eyes to the heavens and sank back lower into the water.

Francis shut the door and turned back to glare at him, 'You're taking up all the room.'

'You took too long.'

'Move.'

'I will when you get in.'

'You're insufferable. This is supposed to be relaxing. I'm supposed to enjoy this.' In a swift movement, Francis shucked off his (overly) fluffy bathroom, ‘Get out of the way.’

‘I will when you get in.’

Francis stepped one foot fully into the water with a wince and Arthur grinned, ‘Too hot?’

‘Arthur, I swear to God I will sit on your legs.’

‘I took the tap side for you.’

‘I appreciate the weaponry to hand. Move.’

Before Arthur could retort, Francis stepped fully into the tub and Arthur had to swiftly moved his legs out of the way to avoid tendon damage.

‘Look, you’ve flooded us.’ Arthur said, eyeing up the overflow along the tub’s rim from the wave made by Francis’ entrance. ‘That better not go through the carpet to the floorboards, we can’t afford to redo them after the kitchen.’

‘I’m surprised you have enough heart and feeling in your stingy heart to allow us to have this much water.’ Francis sank as deep as he could go, knees sharp mountains in the water, and closed his eyes, ‘Ugh, it’s been too long since I’ve had a bath. I needed this.’

‘Hmm.’ Arthur pulled one of Francis’ feel forwards to massage his calf, firm circles with his thumbs, ‘It’s rarely cold enough to be worth it.’

‘That’s a terrible opinion.’ Francis cracked open an eye, looking just behind Arthur and to the right, ‘As is the need to have the window open.’

‘I like the contrast.’

Francis shook his heard and closed his eyes again, ‘I think I’m going to quit.’

‘Finally.’

‘Yes, well. I had hopes. Growth upwards, more than anything currently improving.’

‘Move on to another station?’

Francis shrugged, ‘The chance for more responsibility. Menu choices, ideally.’

Arthur snorted and moved onto Francis’ other leg, ‘As if David would ever let you do that.’

‘He does for Nikhil.’

‘Nikhil is an arselick.’

‘Nikhil is also the level above. But even then, to just move off vegetables and fish. I hate fish, or I hate cooking fish. The smell gets everywhere.’

‘I don’t mind you smelling like a whore.’

Francis hit him with a sudden splash of water, Arthur catching the grin of his teeth right before he closed his eyes.

‘Stop it. Let me moan; don’t make me laugh.’

‘I would do no such thing willingly.’ Arthur lay back as much as he could with the awkward and hard metal of the tap, lolling his head against the wall with his arm slung over the ceramic to keep him from sliding. ‘Your unhappiness is my entire aim.’

Francis snorted and cupped water in his hands to tip onto the crown of his head, fingers raking through the strands.

‘Are you actually?’ Arthur asked after a moment, his hand going back to the meat of Francis’ calf, then the cool skin of his knee, ‘Going to quit; go somewhere else.’

Francis shrugged. ‘No. Yes. Inside, mentally, I quit ages ago. But today was just...’ he waved a hand lazily, ‘I don’t know how much longer. Not because it’s hard or bad but, what’s the point. Of being stuck somewhere that won’t change, clinging to something that left a long time ago.’

‘True, I-‘

‘Like you with me.’

Arthur froze, a coldness blooming in his stomach to spread like ice through his veins. He pulled his hand away and Francis eyed him, eyes flicking up and down.

‘How many years has it been?’ He asked, ‘Five? Six?’

Arthur tried to speak but managed only a croak. Swallowed, tried again, ‘Seven.’

‘Ah yes, seven.’ Francis looked around the bathroom, at the cracks that Arthur now remembered as being on the ceiling, the damp mildew stains along the tiles to pillow black in the grouting that hadn’t been there a second ago. ‘Too long, my love.’

Arthur couldn’t speak. He reach forwards, through still, tepid water to where Francis still lay bright and whole against clean ceramic and the vibrant colours of years before. His hands met nothing but the smooth other side.

Francis watched him, silent. There was something of pity in his expression, almost readable as contempt. ‘Arthur.’

‘No.’

‘You have to let me go, Arthur.’

‘Francis.’ Arthur pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, keeping the sound of Francis’ voice safe and away from the reality that his eyes could now see, ‘Please.’

‘It’s funny that this is where you see me.’ A soft splash, the gentlest movement of water, ‘Is this the only place that you have left? The last place you can call me back?’

It was. There had been others, especially right at the start. Francis in the kitchen, Francis in bed. Francis draped across the lounge sofa, hair in Arthur’s fingers, his warmth against his side. But the rooms were too large and the truth too heavy, too much to filter with so much space to repaint. As the years fell away, it became harder through the years to recall Francis there for more than a flash, and Arthur always needed more.

The bathroom, small and cramped in their little old flat, was still enough. Arthur could pull their relationship out there and unfurl it like a canvas, run through imaginary tapes of old conversations and quiet little moments to fill the space and coat it completely.

It still felt so real.

‘Your brothers are worried about you.’ Another splash, coming closer, ‘You look at least ten years older than you should.’

‘Stop. Please, don’t.’

‘Keeping me here is taking too much.’ Another splash. Arthur heard something lift out of the water, heard the plink plink plink of droplets falling from something tangible there with him. ‘How much life do you have left to waste on trying to get back the one that you lost?’

Arthur felt Francis’ hand on his cheek, his fingers cold and hard as bone. Arthur’s breath caught and he squeezed his eyes so tightly that he could hear a roaring of blood in his ears.

‘Are you waiting for me to say that I forgive you? Do you keep bringing me back here, dragging me up, because you hope that maybe I’ll say you’re not to blame? And, since I won’t, you instead play happier memories again and again and again-’ Francis squeezed hard, fingers digging in sharp to Arthur’s skin, ‘to avoid that day?’

Arthur tried to shake his head but couldn't, found his whole body was rigid and stuck. He tried to jerk away, kick his legs at the thing holding him there but his legs couldn’t move. The tap pressed sharply into his back, limescale cutting his skin.

‘Oh.’ The thing that still sounded like Francis tutted, ‘If only you hadn’t been drinking.’

A crash, a car. Night time, Coldplay’s Yellow lifting into the darkness as behind him on the verge... Whiskey on Arthur’s breath, he’d been at the limit but still-

The grip tightened, harder against Arthur’s teeth to force the bitter reality past the lie and into his mouth. ‘Didn’t you have just. One. More.’

Finally, Arthur opened his eyes.

It does not take long for flesh to decompose. Especially in the summer, especially when it was already so ruined, so open.

Nothing hung from Francis’ bones, nothing was left of his softness. His beauty vanished when his soul did, leaving only the shell of a thing that sits before Arthur in chilling water: empty darkness between ribs and cheekbones, picked clean by the creatures of the earth that he was returned to.

‘I’m sorry.’ Arthur whispered to it through its fingers, ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

‘I know.’ Francis’ voice is still in his head; the fused jaw did not move, ‘But that doesn't change anything, does it?’

-----------------

AN:

... I... This just happened and did not go quite according to the plan that I had in mind but we're rolling with it

[diazheartsbuckley]

Inspiration Saturday ✨

A little snippet from the insomnia fic 💗

“I know you’re hurting, Eddie. But-… but it’s okay to ask for help. Whatever is going on with you, let me help you. Please” Buck’s voice is soft and almost pleading at the other end of the line.

And Eddie has to admit it to himself. Admit that not even a year after his wife died, he’s falling in love with his best friend. Scratch that, he knew exactly what he was feeling months ago but he didn’t want to admit to himself, didn’t want to admit that things were changing between them.

“I-…” Eddie takes a deep breath, trying to compose his thoughts because this is not the sort of thing that you tell someone over the phone. “I can only sleep when I’m on the phone with you. I don’t know… uh, I don’t know why that is but you just make me feel at ease, Buck” Eddie chews on his lip, hoping that he said the right words.

“And you take care of me and Christopher. You spend time with us, with me. And you never judge me. You always have my back, no matter what. Even if it means telling me that I’m an idiot” Eddie says, listening to Buck’s chuckling and he can almost see Buck rolling his eyes at him.

Buck’s chuckling fades and a moment of silence lingers between them. Eddie hates asking for help, hate that he needs it but he can’t care less right now. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Till… till I fall asleep?” Eddie’s voice is quiet and he can feel his cheeks heating up at the thought of saying something like this in front of Buck. Even though he knows that Buck would never judge him.

“Yeah, of course, Eds. Anything I can do to help” The softness of Buck’s voice allows a familiar warmth to fill throughout Eddie’s chest, instantly putting him at ease.

Tagged by no one lol but that’s okay, I’ll get the ball rolling 💕

Tagging 💕

@tizniz, @watchyourbuck, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @monsterrae1, @daffi-990, @hippolotamus, @exhuastedpigeon, @actualalligator, @giddyupbuck, @honestlydarkprincess, @bidisasterevankinard, @wildlife4life, @rainbow-nerdss, @ronordmann, @thekristen999, @theotherbuckley, @wikiangela, @bucks-daddy-issues, @loveyourownsmiilee, @elvensorceress, @jeeyuns, @kitteneddiediaz, @spotsandsocks, @princessfbi, @fionaswhvre, @butraura, @slightlyobsessedwitheverything, @loveyouanyway, @underwaterninja13, @epicbuddieficrecs, @devirnis, @inell

[autisticlenaluthor]

“I’m just so tired,” Lena cries, leaning forward, and pressing her heating pad further into her stomach. “I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

She inhales deeply and releases the breath back through her mouth. It’s an instinct now– breathe through the pain, slow and steady. Steady and calm. Calm and consistent. Breathe so she won’t pass out, so her heart rate won’t continue to rise, so she won’t spiral even harder the next time the knife digs into her side and expands so far she thinks it might make the entire organ pop. 

“I don’t want to be sick. I don’t want to keep doing this.”

She sniffs and squeezes her eyes shut. Hot tears trail down her cheeks as her nose begins to run. The heating pad is making her sweat now too. It’s damp around her shoulders and inside her armpits. Her back is sticky and so are the undersides of her knees. But if she takes her sweatshirt off, she’ll start to shiver, even with the heat cranked up. 

So she pulls her arms around her and tries to ignore the wet spots on her back because somehow, she’s still freezing. And when she opens her eyes again, she looks at Kara, as if somehow, Kara could fix things. But all Kara does is return the same regretful glance. 

“I’m sorry,” she says– like she had any say in this. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.” 

Lena nods and bites down on the inside of her mouth. She hugs herself around the heating pad and presses it in so deep it burns. 

She used to think it was true– nobody could deserve to live like this. It was a cruel fate to watch your body rip down its tendons like wallpaper, peel apart its muscles like expired fruit, and chip away at its bones. Lena had felt every last aggression and with each attempt to fight back– to savor the life she knew, was met with more anger.

 Accusations over anxiety diagnoses and trauma, as if she’d committed a felony for having emotional pain too. Speculations over her weight, her age, and her family. It didn’t matter that one day, the vessel she was living in decided to tear itself apart while she was still stuck inside. All that mattered was that her symptoms, her personality, and her past, weren’t convenient enough to be taken into consideration. 

Lena knew that kind of treatment wasn’t normal. She knew that at least, it shouldn’t be. And yet it was. So she rationalized it. She told herself that maybe she did something terrible in a past life. Something eons worse than anything Lex Luthor ever did, and this was her punishment. She told herself whatever vague, obscure story she could come up with in the moment because pain like this shouldn’t be allowed to exist without a reason. She’d tear down everything she’d ever believed in– destroy the fundamentals of science and existence and everything else she’s put a lifetime of faith in because she needs to keep herself on this Earth and if she doesn’t have a reason, she isn’t sure she can continue to stay. 

“What can I do?” Kara asks her. “How can I make this better?”

Wordlessly, Lena shakes her head. Another wave is hitting her. It’s sharper and stronger than the last one, and God, she feels like she could puke. 

“Just…”

Sit with me, she wants to say. Hold me.

“I don’t know.”

Kara looks at her with an expression like Lena just shot a baby deer and somehow, Lena manages to start hating herself even harder.

She hates herself for not being able to cope after years of being sick. She hates herself for still feeling the pain as deeply as she did when it first came on. Hates herself for not getting better like she was supposed to. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs– the words are the only thing she believes in right now. “Kara… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Kara grabs one of the blue bags from Lena’s nightstand and unfolds it. Without a word, she moves behind Lena and sits so she can rest between her legs.

“Just breathe,” she says. “It’s okay.”

Lena does as she’s told and tries to focus on her uneven breaths. She watches the way Kara loosely wraps her arms around her stomach, where the heating pad is, and squeezes her thigh. 

“Is this okay?”

Lena swallows and nods. Her brow furrows when the stabbing starts to grow again. Saliva fills her mouth. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

Lena shakes her head. 

“No, it just generally hurts,” she says. She gets the words out as quickly as she can before she needs to swallow again. 

Kara nods. She leans a bit closer and presses her front ever so slightly into Lena’s shivering spine. She lifts the bag just a bit so Lena won’t have to move if she needs it– something about the gesture only makes Lena cry harder. It overwhelms her so strongly the pain almost takes a backseat. She can feel the weight of Kara’s body hovering over hers, feel her breath on her neck, see her arm extending in front of her. The woman who’s always told her “I don’t do throw up,” is now waiting to catch her vomit. 

Lena almost wants to tell her she doesn’t have to stay– she doesn’t want Kara to be feeling shitty too. So she keeps quiet, not wanting to risk her leaving.

[scorpioriesling]

Just started reading too hot to handle, can’t wait for the next part I love Lucien and the reader together 🫶🏻

Too Hot to Handle - Finale

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, Azriel, & Tamlin

Warning(s): None UP UNTIL the bonus *5 Years Later* part... then you get suggestion, smut-ish, implied smut, dirty talk (you're welcome? like, finally? damn) Sooo maybe don't read that if you're not 18+ or not comfortable with that!

SR’s Note: Guys... I am so sorry this took centuries to get out to you all. I can't thank you enough for sticking around for this little series, and I have enjoyed it so much. I have been so busy with wedding planning (it's literally 34 days from now) and I've had barely any time to write! Please forgive me, and enjoy the season finale of Too Hot to Handle! Yay! Tags: @velarisdusk @lilah-asteria @starlightazriel @mellowmusings @paintedbyshadows @book-obsessed124 @kitsunetori @rcarbo1

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Good morning guests!"

"Good morning, Lana!"

The chorus of uncharacteristically chipper voices ring out from the beds around you, usually to monotonous and bleak in stark contrast to the early morning sun streaming in through the large windows.

"Luckily for you, this is the last morning you'll have to wake up to the sound of my voice," she jokes, earning a couple chuckles from the group. Limbs stretch from beneath blankets all around, and you slowly make an appearance as you untangle yourself from Lucien's grasp.

"Aw, Lana, I was just getting used to it!" Cassian chides, and Lana's lights flicker.

"No need to worry, Cassian -- I'm sure if things with Nesta don't work out, I'll be seeing you back here next season." This earns him a few sidelong glances and guffaws from his friends.

"Damn Lana... you're ruthless today!"

"I am -- I've got a big decision to make," she continues. "As it is the last day of the retreat, and many of you have come such a long way from where you were when you first arrived, I am sure I'll find difficulty in choosing a winner for the prize fund, which currently sits at $110,000." Hushed voices flicker between beds, but Lana continues nonetheless.

"In addition to the winner being announced, you may remember that those in couples get an extra treat today; their final dates," she reminds. You blush as you glance beside you and catch Lucien's gaze, his stare already fized on you. A small smile blooms on his lips when he meets your eye.

"So -- everyone get ready. Couples, I'll see you on the dock in one hour; everyone else, please enjoy your last day at the retreat to spend as you please." Her lights dim, and a few members mutter their thanks before blankets are thrown back in haste and guests begin making way for the showers and dressing rooms.

"I wonder what kind of date we'll get?" Lucien's deep morning voice says, and you feel the flicker of heat between your thighs. His gaze still searches every inch of you, taking in every strand of hair and every inch of skin like its the last time he'd see you.

"I'm not sure," you say, shifting beneath the blanket. His hand finds your waist, tugging you close so he can wrap his arms around you again.

"Luciennn," you groan, his signature earthy aroms immediately infultrating your senses (just the way you like). "I need to get ready-"

"Well, I need five more minutes to snuggle you," he says, resting his chin atop your head. You bury your face into his bare chest, reveling in the feel of his skin against your cheek. You hated to admit it, but you needed those five minutes just as much.

"Five minutes," you agree.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"I knew Lana was bougie -- but to get us each a yacht?"

Helion's teasing remark was acknowledged with a few nods, most of the guests staring out at the blue ocean in awe. He couldn't be more correct; at the end of the dock, five gleaming white yachts madetheir way to the shore. As the first one approached, the Captain appeared from the lower deck and set the boat at an idle speed.

"One ship for guests, Cassian and, Nesta!" He called. Nesta glanced sidelong at you, and you could only offer her a shrug before her giddy counterpart took off toward the ship. She huffed in amusement, following gracefully behind.

"Captain Wheathers," he introduced, shaking Cassian's hand. "I'll be taking the both of you out today -- any questions please feel free to ask." Cassian bounces from foot to foot with excitement.

"Awesome, man! Hey, nice toy you got here. Real clean," he muses. You can practically feel Nesta's eyes roll, and you can't help the small chuckle you let out. As they disembark, the group waves them off and the next boat pulls in.

"Guests Rhysand and Feyre, please!"

"Ooh! That's, us, Rhys!" Feyre squeals. Her excitement makes you smile, a sentiment Rhysand seems to share as she giddily grabs his hand and steps toward the edge of the dock. Your heart swells as he pulls her close, holding her for balance as she takes a wobbly step onto the ship.

"I wonder when it'll be our turn," Lucien purrs, his fingers tracing along the curve of your waist. You'd opted for your white bikini today (Lucien's pick, actually) and sheer skirt cover up -- his touch only sent goosebumps over your bare skin.

"Soon, I'm sure of it-"

"Lucien Vanserra, and Y/N Y/L/N, please?"

You hadn't realized Feyre and Rhys had left, let alone another boat had arrived. Reguardless, Lucien's fingers find yours, threading through in the same way you've come to find familiar by now, and you both step forward to the end of the dock.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"The ride should be short -- maybe, fifteen or twenty minutes at this speed before we get to the designated spot," Captain Morgan explains.

"But, while we ride, please -- feel free to move about, there are drinks, snacks, food, water... I believe they have the picnic lunches in there for you when we make the stop, though." He winks.

"Thank you, sir!" Lucien says politely, bracing his hands on the railing near where the Captain is navigating the boat. He gives him a polite nod back in response.

You decide to make yourself comfortable on one of the couches, the plush seat more inviting than standing and balancing against the crashing waves the boat is cutting through. Lucien doesn't seem to mind, still glued to the railing as he peers out at the line where the sky meets the sea.

Sitting back, you take in the view yourself. You really could not have gotten luckier. Truly... the male before you, radiant in all his glory, shining as though he is the sun himself. Never would you have dreamt of meeting someone so special, so caring -- Hell, all the males you'd been with before only care about themselves, or what Avenue they live on, or only seemed to talk too much about the damned stock market.

Lucien though... Gods. He truly was made perfectly. The way his amber hair flowed against his gorgeously tan skin, his perfectly toned arms and his lean torso -- I mean, he was tall, his legs went on for miles, and he was talented in so many ways, other than being so smart, so funny, so caring about how others felt-

"We have arrived!"

You blinked, practically shaking your head to come out of your stupor. The soft click of the keys as the Captain shuts off the engine has your gaze wandering, looking out at the vast open ocean -- no dock, no shoreline in sight. Just wide open blue... and two, multicolored eyes looking back at you.

"Too busy checking me out to notice we parked?" Lucien chuckles, stalking over to where you're seated. Your cheeks flush, but you know it's true.

"No," you scoff. "I wasn't... doing that. I was, distracted. By... something else." He takes a seat next to you, leaning in close as his gaze flickers to the top of your bikini bra.

"I was a little distracted too, every time we went over a wave," he whispers lowly. Your breath catches in your throat, the heated feeling between your legs returning from earlier this morning.

The sound of an appoaching engine cuts the moment short, and Lucien leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he smirks at your flushed expression. "Hey, I think it was cute that you were lookin' at me anyway." He winks. You roll your eyes.

"Lucien, I said I wasn't-"

"Alright, so -- the staff ship is here to pick me up, I just wanted to go over a few things with you guys before I headed out," Captain Morgan explains. You straighten, and he points toward the water below.

"We'll be back at the villa for around two hours," he checks his watch. "It's eleven now, so around one p.m. we should be making rounds to come back and pick everyone up to head back for the evening," he explains. He then motions to the lower cabin, pointing out safety supplies, the emergency phone, medical kit, and other necessities. Then he gets to the upper deck.

"Finally -- you have access to the upper deck. There is food and drinks provided should you choose to have those, but again please use caution when consuming alcohol. Also, swimming... of course, you can swim, this is the ocean. Please, use, caution, and always remember we are just a phone call away." He ends with a smile.

"Thank you so much-" Lucien starts as the Captain turns to exit, but he quickly turns back to us before departing.

"Oh! Almost forgot. The other boats are within driving distance, but not necessarily swimming or seeing eye distance. So, if you need anything, it is best to just use the phone." He gestures to the emergency phone again before bracing his hands on the exit ladder. "I also do want to point out that you are out in the open, and the boats are equipped with cameras so... maybe, uh... keep that in mind, too." He chuckles, meeting Lucien's eye and earning a laugh from him too. You could not feel anymore embarassed, but thankfully the man starts to climb down, making way for the awaiting deck full of other crew members.

"Have a good time!" He calls, and the boat speeds off, leaving the two of you alone. In the middle of the ocean. On a single yacht.

All to yourselves.

In that moment, your stomach rumbles, and before you can cough or try to cover it up, Lucien lets out a joyful laugh. His contagious Colgate smile only makes you humor the situation, and he dramatically motions toward the stairs leading up toward the upper deck.

"Shall we, my hungry lady?"

That earns him a smack on the shoulder -- but, the stairs you ascend.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The calming sound of the ocean around you only made the moment more perfect. That compiled with the warmth from the midday sun, the feel of the plush towel beneath you, and the burst of juicy raspberry on your tongue -- it was intoxicating, a feeling you almost wished would never end.

And to top it all off, you got to share it all with the most wonderful male you'd ever met.

"So, what do you think you'll miss most about this place when we leave?" He asks, casually popping a grape in his mouth before looking up at you.

You, is your first thought as you gaze down at him, his casual position on the towel propped up on his forearm. You reach for a cheese cube, trying to come up with an answer that sounds less clingy.

"Well... I mean, this has felt like such a vacation, it's beautiful here," you say, peering out at the water. You sit with your ankles crossed, leaned onto one hip as one of your hands lays flat on the deck floor.

"It is beautiful here," he agrees. "I think you are beautiful, Y/N." Your gaze returns, and you watch as a slow smile creeps onto his face. You chuckle, shaking your head at his praise.

"Well, thank you." You say, reaching for your water bottle and sipping the rest of it. "I think you're quite handsome yourself."

"Ahh, really?" His hand clutches his heart in faux-surprise as he makes to stand, extending his hand to you. "I'll take it for you."

You look up at him, shielding your eyes in the blinding sun. "Oh, are you sure? I mean, I can-"

"Please. Allow me." He gently takes your empty bottle, turning to head down the stairs. You sigh, taking in the air around you again. You need to tell him, today. More than ever, you know how you feel, and leaving this place without him would be the worst heartbreak you'd ever felt -- like part of you would be without, somewhere in the world, and you don't know if you'd be able to handle that.

You're sure of it.

In minutes he's back... this time, without a shirt. He is balancing two fresh waters in one hand and two sparkling glasses of champagne in the other. He sets them before you with ease, settling down on the other side of the towel with a smile.

"I found the champagne," he says, brows raised as he gestures to the glasses. You grin, taking one and handing the other to him.

"I see that," You say. "But, you forgot your shirt."

He laughs and he takes the stem from you. "Hey, I got hot!" He holds out the rim for a toast. "Surely, you're not complaining...?" You shake your head slowly, and he winks at you.

"What should we toast to?" He asks, and you take in a breath.

"Hmm... our last day here, in paradise. We made it, baby!" You smile, and he laughs.

"We made it, baby! Me and sticky fingers, on a yacht, on our last day in paradise! Cheers to that." He clinks his glass with yours, and you take a long sip, the bubbles tingling your throat as you swallow it. Momentary sadness washes over you, anxiety over the words you know are to come, how he would respond. You set down your glass.

"What... do you think you'll miss most?" You ask. Lucien's brows raise, and he sets down his flute as well. He chews the inside of his lip, contemplating for a moment before he settles on an answer.

"Well, I was going to try to come up with a simple answer, or one that didn't come off so, attached, but," he fumbles. "To be honest, I think what I'm going to miss the most is you, Y/N."

A knot begins to form in your throat. A few beats of silence pass before you speak.

"Maybe... maybe, you don't have to." Your gaze lifts from the towel, his hopeful eyes meeting yours. You stare at eachother for what feels like eternity, the silence between you filled with a hundred unspoken words.

"Lucien," you whisper, your voice coming out shakier than you like. "I... I don't want to leave here without you." His eyes widen, and your heartbeat quickens.

"I don't want to not be around you," you say, an ounce of confidence behind your words this time. "I... I want to, take you to my favorite places. And, I want to, show you the town I grew up in, and-" you pause, the lump in your throat growing so tight you feel like you may not breathe. "I want you to be in all of the memories I still haven't made yet, Lucien. I- I don't think, I could make them, with someone, else." You say quietly. When you look to him again, he blinks back at you, so locked in on what you're admitting that he'd leaned closer and physically scooted across the towel to sit nearer.

"Lucien, say something, please-"

"I love you, Y/N." He interrupts, the words coming out crystal clear. His hands take yours, his gaze searching your expression for any sign of doubt at his monumental confession.

"Oh my Gods, Y/N, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have just dropped that on you like that, I-"

You don't give him a chance to answer, pulling him in and crashing your lips onto his in the most passionate kiss the two of you had shared yet. He immediately gave in, his mouth moving in time with yours as his hands guided your fingers to brace against his shoulders before his own snaked around your waist. He pulled you onto his lap, his hands caressing every inch of skin across your back and waist as you continued pressing your lips against his with fervor, relishing in the taste of the man that you could admit you loved.

Only pulling back a few inches, Lucien's brow narrowed slightly at the lack of mouth-to-mouth contact -- but you only smiled down at him as your hands held the sides of his face.

"I love you too," you said, and watched as his breath quickened in realization before his mouth was on yours once again. You weren't sure if he even registered that the two of you recieved your green light, but to you, that wasn't what mattered the most anyway.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You pressed a soft kiss to Lucien's cheek as you lay beside him, basking in the afternoon sun. After your heartleft confession (and rather heated makeout session to follow), you'd both jumped in the ocean and swam for a bit before growing tired and ending up on the deck once more, lying upon the towels in the sun.

"Do you feel different since you got here?" Lucien asks. You sit up, the sun growing a bit too warm on your face as you peer down at him. He shields his eyes from the rays so he can look up at you.

"Hmm..." You consider. "I suppose I am different in some ways, I guess. I mean, not who I am really, but I feel like I am, complete, in a way. I feel better, now. Maybe, because I met you." Your own words send a thrill through you, knowing Lucien really could be the one, and he grins up at you, reaching to tuck a stray strand of damp hair behind your ear.

"I know I've changed," he says, dropping his hand. "Not the same country kid from Carolina that walked in here a few months ago, thats for sure." He shrugs.

Oh right. That.

"About that," you bite your lip, twiddling with your fingers. Lucien registers the silence, adjusting to a sitting positon to face you fully.

"What is it?" He asks, his fingers lightly taking yours to stop you from fidgeting.

"I... Lucien, what do we... where do we go? From here?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"What, was the 'I love you' not indication enough?"

"No, I just mean, like... tomorrow, after Lana announces the winner, and we all get on planes," sadness swells in your chest. "I'll board mine to New York, and... well, you'll get on a flight to-"

"Hey, hey." He stops you, his hands cupping your face as he pulls you close to him. You can feel your emotions bubbling inside you, threatening to bubble over with every tender brush of his thumb across your cheek. "I've been honest with you since we met, Y/N. Don't think that changes now," he kisses the crown of your head, and meets your gaze once more. "Especially, now." You offer a sad smile, shaking your head slightly.

"Lucien... I'm not saying I'm unwilling to try, but you know how often long-distance relationships actually work out, I-"

"Who said anything about distance?" His brows form a flat line on his forehead. You lean back an inch to look up at him, not quite understanding.

"Lucien-"

"Y/N, I'll move to New York with you." He says, then looks side to side. "I mean, if that's what you want, and it's not too invasive, I mean."

You shake your head, not quite believing your ears. "Lucien... I... you can't just, uproot your whole life, I mean," you stutter. "You... your real estate business, your job, I mean," He kisses your cheek.

"Sweetheart, do you know how big I could go with real estate in New York?" He chuckles, and you continue your wide-eyed gaze at him. "Besides, I already told you my family is from all-over. I don't have real 'roots' where I'm at now anyways." He shrugs as though the two of you were discussing flavors of cereal.

You swallow hard, thinking of this very big, very new change that was very quickly becoming your new reality. Lucien, moving all the way to New York to be with you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you looked up at his grinning face once more.

"What if you don't like it there?" You ask, and he barks out a laugh. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you to sit as close as possible to him to the point where mere inches separeted the two of you.

"I'd be happy in any city, as long as you're there with me, sticky fingers." You loose the battle of holding back the tears, and they begin freefalling down your cheeks. He doesn't hesitate to wipe them away, gently running his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses atop your head while you work through your overwhelming emotion.

Wrapping your arms around him, you snuggle close, inhaling as much of him as you can. If you could, you'd stay like this forever -- luckily, you would rest easy knowing you'd leave Lana's retreat tomorrow with Lucien, not only as an official couple, but quite literally together. A simple helping hand and playful conversation is what led to this beautiful thing the two of you had created; and now, you had forever to look forward to.

"I love you," you whispered against his skin, as his arms only hugged you tighter.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The group buzzed with anticipation the next morning as everyone sat in the cabana awaiting Lana's arrival. The rest of yesterday went off without a hitch -- everyone talked about their dates, many green lights were once again given, and the singles in the group were able to use their free time to get in one last day at the villa to do as they pleased.

This morning, though, the entire property was utter chaos; packing, running around, items being stuffed into suitcases, and so many emootional exchanges were all happening at once as the gravity of what was happening today seemed to finally settle on many of the group members.

Nonetheless, everyone was here now at the cabana. 11 a.m. sharp, just as Lana requested last night. No wake up call this morning, but you hadn't minded; what you thought would be your last night in a bed with Lucien turned out to be just another night. You could still remember the feeling of waking up this morning and imagining rolling over in your own bed, but finding him next to you instead of the empty sheets.

"Good morning, everyone." Lana greets, the cone appearing from beneath the fire pit.

"Good morning, Lana!" Everyone responds.

"Well, we have arrived at the final day of our retreat, haven't we?" She says, and a few girls make sad faces. "I always hate goodbyes -- but, I am pleased with how far many of you have come since you've arrived here a few short months ago. You've all done well, truly -- give yourselves a hand!"

The group claps, a few of the guys cheering before Lana lights up again.

"Alright, now let's settle. I know you've all got planes to catch." She pauses. "What always makes goodbyes a bit easier for me, is of course, a going-away gift, right?" She chuckles, and a few people agree.

"As you all know, I have a gift of my own -- my hefty little prize fund that I told you about all those months ago. Not so hefty now, but, still quite the chunk of change as it is $110,000." She earns a few cheers for this before she continues.

"Some seasons, I have guests vote for a winner -- other times, I choose one myself." She explains. "However, this go around, I've seen impeccable growth in two people who just so happen to be in an established relationship, and I'd like to award this prize to them both."

This certainly earns her some feedback. Luciens fingers squeeze your knee, and you look to him eagerly.

"So, without further adeu; this season, I'd like to give the Finale Prize to the couple..." she pauses, and everyone glances around to one another.

"... Lucien and Y/N!"

Immediately, you jump up, Lucien rising beside you as cheers erupt from the others. He scoops you in his arms, pulling you into a twirl as he hold you close to his chest. The entire group applauds, cheering louder as confetti and balloons are released above the cabana in celebration. When he finally sets you down, you stare up at him in excitement, your smile bright to mirror his own.

"We won it, baby!" He says, his hands holding you close aorund your waist.

"We won it!" You echo, and in that moment any and all rules are forgotten as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips melt against yours, his touch full of love and pure adoration for the woman he is with; and you couldn't help but feel as though everything, in that moment, was right in your little world.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. You can't help but smile, still reeling from everything happening around you.

"Let's go home, city girl." He says, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You rest your cheek against the white cotton of his shirt, the end of a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.

"Let's go home."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

5 Years Later

"Y/N, almost done in there?"

You huff, shoving the mascara wand back into the tube and pumping it a few times before yanking it back out again. You lean forward, mere inches from the mirror as you hold the end of the wand near your lashes.

"Yeeeah," you call out, so focused on coating every lash with the black makeup that you don't hear the soft knock on the door behind you. Let alone the telltale squeak of the hinge as it slowly opens.

"Sweetheart, Rhys texted me ten minutes ago saying they were pulling up-" Lucien's voice halts as he steps further into the small room, his eyes practically undressing you as you watch through the mirror.

"Sorry, I'm almost done-"

"Oh... no, take your time, baby." He steps close as you cap your makeup, pinning you to the counter from behind. You suck in a breath, meeting his hungry gaze through the glass as he hyperfixates on the low-cut neckline in the reflection.

"I'm happy to wait... riiiiight here." His hand slides along your waist, tracing every ridge and line of the skin-tight fabric. You smirk, the feeling of him pressed against you only growing harder. "This new?" He asks.

You smirk, watching his gaze dip lower. "You like it?"

He scoffs, pressing his chest to your back and bending you more over the counter. His breath is warm as it fans across the skin beneath your ear.

"I'd like it better, off." He growls, already playing with the little straps at your shoulders. "Gods, so pretty Y/N... always making me go crazy," he mumbles. You admit, the praise is nice, but -- you do have the Too Hot To Handle 5 Year Anniversary Dinner to get to.

"Fuck," he utters, kissing the top of your shoulder as his hands palm your ass. "You look so good..." He kisses the side of your neck, his hands grabbing at your waist. "Could just marry you right now."

You twist beneath him, turning to face him in an attempt to not get any more ideas. Chuckling, you hold up your left hand between the two of you.

"Eight months. Only eight more months, and then you can call me Mrs. Vanserra, alright?" The diamond glitters in the light, twinkling as he takes your fingers in his. He brings your knucles to his lips, kissing softly. Its only a moment before his eyes wander, shifting with the movement of every breath you take.

"Lucien -- dinner, remember?" You remind, but his eyes are glued to your cleavage. He shamelessly drags his hands up your sides, cupping your breasts in his palms and giving you a light squeeze before meeting your gaze again.

"I don't remember us having any plans, actually," he smirks, and you give him a knowing look. He drops his hands to your waist instead, effortlessly picking you up and sitting you on the counter so he can stand between your parted knees.

"Lucien, c'mon we're..." he leans in, his lips kissing along your collarbone softly.

"...so, so late." You gasp when he nips at the skin of your throat, his tongue rolling over the spot after. He's come to learn this is one of the things he can do to really get you going... and boy does he use it to his advantage.

That gasp turns into a full-on moan as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass through your dress, pressing your surely soaked panties to his strained cock through his pants. He makes his way up your neck, over your jaw, and to your lips before you begin moving involuntarily against him. Your mind wanders to the various times you'd been in this very bathroom the two of you had shared for years, all the ways he'd taken you on this very counter before.

Making you watch your reflection in the mirror as he pounded relentlessly into you from the back.

Kneeling before you as you held your knees apart, his tongue working your tight clit as you sat on the cool countertop.

Gods-

"Babe-" You pulled back, your eyes barely opening as he sucked in a breath of air before you. "Babe, we're so late, we really gotta go."

He sighs, leaning back further as your eyes widen. You can't help but giggle at the rosy red smudged across his lips and under his nose. He grimaces, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth.

"I might've messed up your lipstick a lil'," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a cute shade of pink. You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before hopping off the counter and adjusting your dress.

"You can mess it up all you want... after, we go to dinner."

In minutes, he's lipstick-free and you're ready to walk out the door to meet your friends you hadn't seen for five years -- and boy could you not wait to catch up.

"Ready?" Lucien helps you into your coat, opening the front door of your shared high-rise and extending a hand to you. Peering at you is the same set of heterochrome irises you'd fallen for five years ago; the same set that belonged to the man you'd get to tell your friends tonight, you were set to marry.

"I'm ready."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[atzjieun]

personal stylist

summary | san helps jieun before she goes out

circa | august 2024

contains | 1.1k words, words, fluff, implied nudity at the beginning, jisan are just cute 

notes | i honestly didn’t think i was going to finish this anytime soon but i started using a writing sprint bot and it actually really helped 😭 but i hope you guys enjoy! 

taglist | @teezingsiyeon @moonkyeom @itzynabi 

San walked out of the bathroom, a towel around his neck that he used to dry the few stray droplets of water falling from his hair.  

On the other side of the room was Jieun, sitting at the desk with her phone propped up like a mirror. A straightening iron rested on top as Jieun sprayed heat protectant all over her hair.

“Choi San, put a shirt on!” she exclaimed, seeing the older boy in the corner of the screen. 

He grinned sheepishly, opening his drawer to pull out a shirt. “My bad.” After slipping it over his head, he rubbed his hair with a towel to get rid of the excess water. San looked over at the girl, quietly watching as she sectioned her hair before picking up the straightener, using it to curl her hair. 

Curiously, he walked closer to her, taking a seat on the bed beside the desk. 

“What’s the special occasion?” he asked with a small tilt of his head. “You never curl your hair.” 

Without looking at him, Jieun shrugged. “I don’t know. I just felt like it.” 

“Are you going out?” 

She nodded, continuing to curl her hair piece by piece while he watched. “Wooyoung-oppa asked if I wanted to try out a restaurant he heard about. Apparently they have really good steak.” 

“Just the two of you?” 

“I guess so.” 

San stood up, slowly reaching in front of the girl before carefully taking the tool out of her hand.

“Here, let me help.”

“It’s ok, I can do it myself.” She looked over at him, reaching for the straightener, though he held it out of her reach.

“It’s fine, I got it,” he responded, taking a section of hair. “Besides, I know you hate curling the back of your head.”

She looked at him through the reflection of her phone, watching the older boy’s concentrated face as he carefully curled each section of her hair before placing it over her shoulder to keep it out of the way. 

“Where’d you learn how to curl hair?” 

Upon her question, a small smile made its way onto San’s face. 

“I have an older sister, remember? She’d complain her arms were tired and make me do her hair for her,” he chuckled. “Plus, I’ve been watching the stylists curl your hair for the last- what? Six years? I think I’ve picked up some things in that time.” 

Jieun nodded, continuing to watch as he curled her hair through her phone screen.

“What restaurant are you guys going to?” San asked. 

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. He wanted to keep it a surprise.” 

The older boy nodded, quickly glancing at her reflection before looking back to her hair. “You guys have been hanging out a lot.” 

Jieun thought back to all her recent hangouts with the boy. Just the night before Wooyoung had come over to their room to watch a movie with her, but surely they hadn’t been hanging out so much that it was worth pointing out?

“Making up for lost time, I guess,” she eventually answered, slight confusion in her voice at the sudden comment. 

“Did he ever tell you why?” 

The girl froze for a moment, glancing at the phone screen to see San watching her, having temporarily stopped curling her hair to gauge her reaction. After a second of hesitation, she slowly shook her head. 

“No…” she answered slowly, shaking her head immediately afterward and giving a tight-lipped smile. “But…it’s fine. He’ll tell me when he’s ready.” 

Before she could look at San’s reaction, a notification on the top of her phone screen distracted her. Jieun reached forward and grabbed her phone, opening her messages to see what she’d been sent.

Wooyoung oppa: You almost ready?

She read the message over a couple times, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she tried to decide what to say. A chuckle behind her made her raise her head despite the fact that she couldn’t see her reflection.

“I’m almost done, don’t worry,” San said, having read the message over her shoulder. 

Jieun smiled, humming as she turned back to her phone. 

Me: Yeah, I’ll be done in a bit

Without waiting for a reply, Jieun locked her phone and placed it face-down on the desk before adjusting her posture. She let out a small sigh, waiting patiently as San continued on her hair. 

A couple minutes later, San placed the straightener back down on the desk. He ran his fingers through her hair, brushing out the curls before placing her hair over her shoulders. 

“Alright, all done,” he said, taking a step back. 

Jieun stood up, walking over to the mirror to see the results. The moment she saw her reflection, a wide smile spread across her face. 

“You’re better at curling my hair than I am,” she commented, brushing a few parts of her hair. Jieun turned to the older boy, who watched her with a fond smile. “Thank you, oppa.” 

San shook his head as he walked up to her, patting her on the head before moving back to his bed. 

“You should get changed now. Don’t want to keep Wooyoung waiting too long, do we?” 

Jieun immediately nodded and without waiting, turned back and opened her drawers. She looked through her clothes for a couple seconds before picking out a few pieces and throwing them over her shoulder. With one final smile in San’s direction, Jieun retreated to the bathroom. 

She emerged a couple minutes later, wearing a white dress with a brown leather jacket over it. San watched as she walked around the corner with a sheepish smile, brushing herself off. She looked at him expectantly.

“Give us a spin, Eunnie,” he said with a grin. Jieun laughed as she walked in a circle, placing her hands on her hips. San raised his hand to give the girl a thumbs up. “Tell Wooyoung to have you back by 11.” 

She rolled her eyes lightheartedly, shaking her head at the boy. “You sound like Hongjoong-oppa.” Without waiting for a response, she reached for her bag and one of the room keys before slipping her shoes on. Before walking toward the door, she waved. “Bye, oppa.” 

“Have fun~” San sang, smirking to himself as she disappeared from sight.  

The moment he knew she was out of the room, San immediately went to his contacts and pressed on one, holding the phone up to his ear. After a couple rings, a “hello?” from the other side sounded through his phone’s speakers.

“Jongho, remember what you were telling me the other day? I believe you now.”  

[xfandom-fairyx]

marching band au

part two

_____________________________________________________

Four pizza boxes, a box of garlic knots, some cheesy bread, and a brookie box sat on the granite-top island counter in the kitchen while the five of us sat in the chairs that sat around it, taking turns with introductions, and stuffing our faces in the process. I sat on the far right, Eijiro directly to my left, then Denki, Sero, and Katsuki on the far left.

I brushed my hair back behind my shoulder to avoid eating it with my bite of pizza, listening to the boys all give a little information about themselves. Turns out, Katsuki’s dad was head chairman of the housing commission for school, and currently owned the house we were living in. Someone had a great idea and based our housing on our college majors and class schedules to insure efficiency with attendance, which I thought was a great convenience. Carpooling would be nice to save on gas, we could share notes, and help each other with studying. I now live with four, hot, funny guys, and we don’t have to pay the bills for this enormous house? (Somebody pinch me, I’ve gotta be dreaming..)

“As you know, I’m Sero, and I play the tenor. My shoulders and back are already pre-hating me for the bullshit they’re about to go through,” he grinned, earning a chuckle from the rest of us. I zoned out a little as Sero kept talking, which is rude, I know, but I was too focused on the ash blonde. His laugh was the roughest among the boys, the deep timbre of his voice creating a rasp in his chest as he chuckled. I took a drink of my water, stealing a glance his way, hoping he wouldn’t notice me looking at him while I was mid drink–

But he was already looking at me. My eyes went wide as heat flooded my cheeks again, and his ruby orbs studied me, his grin mischievous when he saw the flush of my face. I had to focus on not choking, because choking to death within the first hour of knowing these guys would be so fucking embarrassing. Raising a hand, he swept his fringe away from his face and took his turn introducing himself, his gaze trained on me.

“Name’s Katsuki Bakugo, and I play the snare. I’ve been the lead snare at our high school for the last 3 years, and I’ve had these idiots beside me the whole time. I’m here because I’ve always wanted to make music my career. DCI is the number one dream, but I know that I won’t be getting paid for it, so my next option is becoming an audio/sound engineer,” he stated, confidence radiating off of him. My jaw dropped slightly, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“I’m here to be a music producer. It’s just a step up from being an audio engineer,” I grinned. His gaze held mine for 4 long seconds, his grin never faltering. Hearing a chair scrape across the floor, my attention got pulled over to the sunny blonde, who was now standing with one foot propped on his chair as the other held his full weight, posing like a knight.

“I am the one they call ‘Denki the Great,’ and I play the bass drum!” he exclaimed proudly, his right hand balled into a fist that he held over his heart.

“I said ‘ingrate,’ you moron!” Katsuki boomed, his laughter infectious. Denki’s face fell to feign hurt, the hand that was in a fist splaying out to cover his heart.

“Bakubroooo, you’re so mean!” he cried, sitting back down in his chair. We were all still snickering, Denki’s frown fading quickly as he remembered the brookie box that sat neglected on the counter. Eijiro shook his head, grinning at his friend’s childishness, then turned his attention back to me.

“I’m Eijiro, I play snare, too. My dream is to become a music director or a drumline instructor, because I’m not ready to do anything else with my life yet, but the degree I’m shooting for is a Bachelor of the Arts, like the rest of you,” he said, grabbing his solo cup of water and flashing a smile before taking a swig. I took a deep breath, knowing that I was the last one to speak their piece.

“I guess that leaves me,” I started, already feeling more heat rise to my face, “I’m y/n, and I’m in the pit. More specifically, I’m in the auxiliary. During games, I’ll be your cymbal girl, during comps, I’ll be doing multiple complementary instruments and sounds to add to the show,” I explained, looking over at each of them, nonchalant smiles on everyone but Katsuki, who was smirking slightly, his gaze still intense on my face. I suppressed a shudder, suddenly finding the pizza and cheesy bread on my plate very interesting.

“My dream is to become a music producer, so I create my own mixes, beats and samples,” I added, earning an impressed whistle from Eijiro.

“You should totally show us some of your stuff some time!” he jeered. I looked over at him and he nudged me with his elbow a little, a shining grin splitting his face, making warmth fill my chest and a smile pull at my own lips. If I had glanced at Katsuki, I would have noticed that his grin had faltered a bit.

After most of the food boxes were empty, the time on the display screen of the smart fridge showed that it was almost midnight. Sero had called it a night about 30 minutes ago, pulling Denki upstairs after the blonde had stolen another brookie. They were going to “hit the penjamin” before going to sleep, and even though I was invited, I wasn’t about to get absolutely blasted before the first day of band camp. Eijiro was clearing over the dishes and I was taking the trash out to the bin when I caught Katsuki as his foot hit the bottom step of the stairs.

“Hey, Kats,” I gently grabbed the side of his black band merch tshirt, “would you mind showing me a few things around here? Like maybe where the laundry room is?” I batted my eyes, a joking grin on my face. His ruby eyes caught me off guard as they showed his mild irritation, making me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Nevermind, I can figure it out myself,” I whispered, letting go of his shirt and turning back to the kitchen where Eijiro was drying up the last plate. A warm hand caught my wrist, catching me by surprise.

“Grab your shit, I’ll show you,” he rasped. I gave him a thankful smile, running past him up the stairs to grab my laundry bag. When I came back down, he was waiting for me at the landing of the stairs with his arms crossed over his chest, and it took everything I had not to stare at his flexed biceps.

He jerked his head, a motion for me to follow him through the house to two of the mysterious doors that sat behind the dining table, on the wall under the stairs.

“The first door here is a cleaning closet. All the cleaning supplies and extra kitchen towels and shit go in there,” he stated bluntly, quickly opening the door to give me a brief view of the items I would be needing to use frequently.

“And this is the door to the basement,” he said, pulling the second door open to reveal a staircase that had a turnback about halfway down, 20 stairs max. The basement itself was completely open like the floor above, but the floor was covered in a soft carpet, and a neutral gray coated the walls. A few movie posters and music memorabilia hung on the walls, and my eyes floated over another sectional sofa and a few massive bean bag chairs that surrounded an 80” tv. My mouth gaped at the media center; it must have been housing 150 different games. And the foosball table, a ping pong table, the gaming setup with a few different consoles.. the homeowners really thought of everything! Under the staircase was a brand new washer and dryer set— the Samsung smart ones— and the rack for organizing the clothes.. I had to set my laundry bag down, all of this was making my ADHD brain fuzzy. Katsuki must’ve noticed the tiny gasp I had let out when I saw the appliances, because he was smirking again.

“Wanna see the best part?” He asked guiding me over to a door on the back wall, and I squeaked as his hand pressed gently on the small of my back. On the other side of the door was a private recording studio, complete with a rack of guitars across the wall behind the studio glass, a professional drum set towards the back wall, a state of the art mixing table directly in front of us, brand new microphones—

“Oh my god, what the fuck even is this house? I feel like I’m in a dream,” I sighed, settling in one of the velvet chairs in front of the mixing board, the purple, yellow and red lights illuminating Katsuki and I in the darkness of the studio room. He crossed his arms again and chuckled lowly, letting out a short sigh.

“This used to be my actual house. I grew up here. We moved out a couple years ago, and have been using it as an Air BNB to make a little extra to put me through college,” he explained. I could tell he was getting tired because his voice was raspy with fatigue.

“And now it’s my house, again. I turned 18 and my parents put the house in my name. I told the guys they could stay here during our college years, but my dad said I had to utilize it for school use only. So I offered to let him put some more music majors in here. The others should be here in a couple days, they’re from out of state,” he rambled, spinning my chair around and leading me back out to the game room.

“Others?” I questioned. (More stinky boys? Please, God, no.) Katsuki grinned at the displeased expression on my face, laughing a bit as we started back up the stairs.

“Two girls, don’t worry. I wouldn’t make you deal with 6 boys by yourself. I figured 3 girls and 4 boys would be manageable.” All I could do is sigh in relief, making him grin as he shut the door to the basement behind us.

“You don’t talk much. I like you,” he chuckled, gesturing for me to walk upstairs first with him hot on my trail. I hoped the dim lighting hid the blush on my face as I turned to look at him one more time before ducking into my room for the night.

Tucking myself in, I thought about the craziness that just transpired over the last few hours, grinning widely. If this was how life was going to be, I couldn’t wait to spend the next 4 years with these idiots.

..and it wasn’t lost on me that Katsuki had taken the trash out for me.

. • ° * ° • . … . • ° * ° • .

A/N:

Still testing the waters here.. it’s a slow start, I know. Hopefully the next few chapters are a little better, more will be happening than intros and tours. Who knows, I might try my hand at adding some social medias (:

Love y’all 🫶🏻

🤍fae🤍

tags:

@icloudcatastrophe

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Not to expose myself as Old or anything, but I remember when I was a child and I would see fireflies in the summer nights.

There were so many I wanted to put them in a jar and have them light up by my bedside but my mother explained to me that this would kill them as they cannot survive inside a jar and so I settled for watching them. They were like magic to me. Embers that came and went with no fire in sight but themselves.

And now in the place I grew up, I see nothing. Just mosquitoes and ants and flies, large beetles if I’m lucky, but the only lights in the small hours of the night are on houses and street corners, burning with electricity while being so cold and lifeless. Moths wasting their lives flocking to them before getting caught and dying, growing the pile of carcasses that make the light from the bulbs hazy but not obscured enough to make a difference.

I remember summer nights when they were alive, and when days were full of butterflies instead of rows of houses sprayed neatly with poisons so their petunias and marigolds look brighter, and the sounds of shots and cats running down cottontails that would see purpose to those plants.

The lawns are now green, nourished by poisons and carcasses and blood, but when those flowers bloom in the garden, I fear there will be no one left to pollinate them.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little "bouquet" of random flowers I found growing wild in a yard

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Hey Fort? It's hot out here, right?

"Yes, it's Thailand, so-?"

Yeah... just a second, can you hold this with your face a moment?

*sticks a strip of Gaff tape right between his eyes.*

Just, like, for 15 seconds.

*waits while it gets hot*

Perfect.

*rips the gaff tape- and his unibrow- off*

[weezerlvr228]

flippin boobahs!

[plantenjoyer]

I SWEAR I KEEP TRYING TO DO ART BUT THEN SOMETHING GETS IN THE WAY AND THEN I PROCRASTINATE AND THEN SIX MONTHS PASS

[cutneteel]

meh

[robinsnest2111]

overwhelmed with the feeling of how much I want to leave this hellhole of a house for good

[crippledanarchy]

I get bitter cripple feelings every time I see the "begrudgingly taking myself on a mental health walk" memes cause going on walks was how I processed everything in the first 20 years of my life until suddenly I lost it and I'll never get it back and it's been ten years and I haven't stopped being mad about it yet